#But also like.. READ THE ROOM HAMMIE PLEASE

[the--firevenus]

Hammie, in front of a celestial being: you maybe graceful and powerful, BUT my magister still number 1 !!!!!!!!!

Merlin, has not fully recover his full power yet: uhh..

[didsomeonesayventus]

Okay, I trust you as a source for all things Fire Emblem - can you please tell me if Fire Emblem Engage is worth getting? It's a lot of money, and I've seen a real mixed reception for it. I've read reviews that call it uninspired and shallow, storywise, and that some characters are difficult to enjoy. Is it actually worth it, or am I better off just replaying Fates? I am TORN over here.

SO! Good news in brief: if you liked Fates I'm fairly certain that you've got a good chance of liking Engage. I honestly see Engage as Fates 2 with a much better focus on what it wants to be and do! In fact if I HAD to pick a previous entry for fair comparison/vibe similarities, I'd pick Fates, maybe Sacred Stones (though I've yet to finish that one).

Engage is right now my favorite entry of the series.

MORE DETAILED ANSWER UNDER THE CUT (I have only played thru once on normal + casual as of writing)

I still maintain it's a good game and worth it, but you HAVE to be open-hearted about it. It's going to be silly. It's going to be hammy and subtle as a sledgehammer. It will even say the most cringe ass shit with it's whole heart. It's just about the farthest from 3H you can get on the fire emblem scale to the point you could have it sitting next to Kingdom Hearts and I, personally, love that for it, but feel like comparing it to 3H's darker tones is the thing most negative reviewers fall prey to.

Is it simple? Yeah. Absolutely. Terribly predictable, even. Is it heartfelt? YES! ABSOLUTELY! Engage has no time for "wow that was cheesy" because it LOVES cheese and it wants you to know that LOVE IS THE MOST POWERFUL THING EVER. It knows it's running a trite and cliched story and it doesn't care about that so much as trying to hit its notes with just the right vibe- and I argue it does a majority of the time, but can concede some things are rather silly. It's full steam ahead with the power of love and friendship and it does that with about as much reverence as a Sat. A.M. cartoon. A good Sat. A.M. cartoon that you're still thinking of years down the line that was a formative childhood joy.

And it's not about romantic love, actually! Hardly at all! There's a lot more focus on familial and platonic love than romance!! There are explicit "I love you"s regarding family bonds and multiple sibling relationships that make it clear they would do everything for their family. The only romantic aspect is whoever you choose to have Alear S-Rank (the game calls it a ring rank for Reasons but its essentially an S-Rank), and everyone else's supports end at A. Even then there's room in a fair number of Alear's S-Ranks to get interpreted as Really Good Friends, as the focus is not on "I Love You" but moreso the fact Alear and the blorbo in question have a deep, deep bond (though there are S-Ranks that are romantic-tinted and some who will explicitly say they love Alear, and regardless of gender picked! wow! diversity win!). If you were looking for pairing up your sexy chess pieces and getting paired endings, though, there'll be a bit left to be desired.

Again if you like Fates, or Kingdom Hearts, or stories that are cheesy, simple, cliched, but heartfelt, you're going to like this one. The cast is wonderful, and the story has some surprisingly good emotional beats. Oh, and also some of the FUNNIEST supports I have seen. Ever.

Alear in particular has become my favorite lord of the series, just barely scooting ahead of Corrin by virtue of having a more solid characterization and arc that Fates didn't quite let Corrin have. Which, yes, you can rename Alear and give them their own birthday, but there is NO question that Alear is their own character; hats off to Laura Stahl and Brandon McInnis for bringing stellar performances that are essential to the character. Frankly hats off in general to the voice cast as a whole they really bring a charm to the game that cannot be ignored.

I will say that supports are pretty hard to grind out, though, requiring units to be adjacent, and the leveling curve leaves a lot of... wonkiness? It's VERY easy with the rate of receiving new units + leveling funk to have units fall behind, or your army to feel underleveled, if you're like me and mostly skip the side skirmishes (bad gamer, I know). I hear the skirmishes are also kind of wonky and scaled to Alear's level which. Can Be A Problem if you're trying to level or support grind weaker units. Though I will say that playing Normal + Casual playing straight through the main story, while it occasionally made me sweat, it did not make me have to completely redo a map (or, if it did, it was probably only once or twice and I've simply forgotten about the inconvenience). Just made unlocking supports irksome as units fell off and/or made it hard to keep some characters off the bench.

There's also an OBSCENE amount of freedom in what you can do with your units. Go crazy go stupid try not to die. Resource management can get tricky, there's not quite enough gold or bond points to do everything, but you can do a lot of stuff, especially if you find a favorite to focus in on. As for the Engage mechanic: very powerful, but not to the point of sapping all the challenge out of things, and fairly balanced. The Break mechanic introduced I think is a great addition to the weapon triangle mechanics and adds a nicer layer of consideration to unit placement + weapon diversity in your army than before.

Also, if you're worried Engage overly relies on it's intent as an anniversary celebration, don't! Engage still is doing its own thing, and moreso uses references to past entries as spice or flourishes of color. They add some fun easter eggs and flavoring to the story, but it doesn't rely on the emblems or any throwbacks to tell the story it's trying to tell. Are Firene and Brodia a 1:1 for Zofia and Rigel? Yeah! Probably on purpose! They literally got the guy who voices Duma in FEH to do King Morion! Do you need to know anything about Shadows of Valentia to appreciate that? Nope! Just nice to know. Corrin's ring is found in a Northern Fortress, to further help illuminate the cute nods involved.

If you're on the fence, totally get that, especially since dropping 60$ on a game in this economy- ~90$ if you wanna add DLC -is a lot of money to ask for. But I've thoroughly enjoyed what Engage has to offer, and currently am hopping along through playthrough #2 and trying to tell myself to S-Rank someone who isn't Alcryst (I will probably S-Rank Alcryst again). I'd suggest looking into the first few eps of a playthrough if you're still not quite sure, and, frankly, imo there's no shame in just purely enjoying it from a "watched a playthrough" perspective, if you have to.

and, if none of this has persuaded you, please direct your attention to Zelkov and this Honest-To-Alear real support exchange: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1_lsOLB68g

[hongcherry]

Seeing Double, Prepare for Trouble || jjk (m)

"It was no surprise to see multiple people dressed up as Spider-Man at the party. You were no exception. The difference was your costume was only meant for Jungkook's eyes."

🍭 Pairing: spiderman!Jungkook x girlfriendxReader(f)

🍭 Rating/Genres: M(18+); Smut, light crack/humor lol, light fluff, college au, established relationship, SBaFL au, marvel au

🍭 Word Count: 8.9k

🍭 Warnings: soft dom!Jungkook, sub!reader, jk likes being complimented, multiple orgasms, strength kink, fingering, oral (f. receiving, hint of m. receiving), mentions of bruises/marks/alcohol (no mentions of intoxication), unprotected sex (reader's on the pill; stay safe!), dirty talk, big dick!jk, spanking (jungkook likes ass a lot), rough sex, multiple sex positions, breast play, reader has a pain kink?maybe, manhandling, hair pulling, creampie, bound by webs (light), one dark humor joke at the end (can be related to prostitution), they share some candy 😌, jk and reader being their teasing selfs, Yoongi gets the boot

🍭 Betas: @hoebii (My go-to for all my Spidey JK stories! Thank you for always being there for me - the dedication! I know I can always count on you. Thank you for all the "hammy" suggestions hehe) / @hobeemin (Ahh! Thank you for giving my story a shot and giving me great feedback! I'm glad you liked it.) = Thank you both for fitting me into your busy schedules and giving me great feedback. Both your comments made me laugh. I feel much better about this piece after all the help. I'm grateful to you both ^-^

🍭 Author’s Note: Happy Spoopy Day, y'all. Please enjoy my contribution to kinktober. I've had the first scene in mind for over a year lmao, so I wanted to write it before I had to wait another year. I've missed writing the SBaFL couple ^-^ Also, there is a pun in my title relating to something 😉 if you get it, you get it lol

🍭 Storyline: First year in college; After Warning Signs; Can be read as a standalone but has (unimportant) references to And if I did?. You can still understand what's happening without knowing/understanding the reference... There's like one lol.

SBaFL collection | main masterlist

There was a moment of silence as you stood with your door open, baffled by what was before you. Jungkook had been raving about the annual Halloween party at one of the frat houses ever since he overheard Taehyung talking about it to Jimin three weeks ago. It was unusual to see him so giddy about a party since Jungkook was never thrilled for large gatherings, yet for some reason, he was excited for this one. Despite never telling you what he decided to dress up as this was least expected. You had asked if he wanted to do a couple’s outfit, but he had declined the offer.

Jungkook shook his upended Spider-Man mask as if he was waiting for you to toss in some candy in his makeshift basket. His lips were pulled back in a grin, standing confidently in his suit in the well-lit hallway. It had your heart racing at the thought of someone catching him without his mask.

You hastily grabbed his forearm and yanked him inside your room. Your roommate was hanging out with her friends, so you didn’t worry about her seeing Jungkook. You gawked at him a moment more, wondering if he really just walked to your dorm in his suit—out in the open for the entire campus to see.

“You’re not going dressed like that, are you?” You questioned your boyfriend in disbelief. Jungkook tilted his head at your question, eyebrows knitted together as he wondered if you were serious.

“What’s wrong with my suit?” He huffed, a small pout forming on his soft lips.

“It’s your suit,” you replied with what you figured was the most obvious answer. “It’s your real suit.”

Jungkook shrugged and tossed his mask on your bed before taking a seat next to it. His eyes scanned your outfit and frowned when he realized you weren’t ready. You were in your pajamas, yet had makeup on—your eyes and lips coated in purple. Part of your hair was pulled into a ponytail by a green hair tie. He wasn’t sure what you had decided to dress up as, but purple-pajama lover was not in his list of guesses.

“I’m sure I won’t be the only person dressed as Spider-Man. It’s the one day of the year I can dress in my suit and not have to worry about my identity. Isn’t that neat?” He reasoned, eyes wide with excitement. While Jungkook probably wasn’t wrong about not being the only Spider-Man, you worried he would still stick out with the material of his suit. It wasn’t like the ones in the stores.

“You don’t think people will be suspicious that yours is… Better in quality?” You reached out and glided your fingertips across his shoulder and down his arm to feel his suit. It wasn’t your first time touching it, but you couldn’t stop feeling it again. It was bumpy unlike the ones being sold, yet the ridges weren’t rough. Jungkook stared up at you.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I doubt anyone will make the connection. Don’t worry, baby. No one’s going to know the truth.” He smiled at you reassuringly. You hummed as you thought about his words. You were still skeptical but he looked so happy to wear his suit confidently without his mask that you decided to let it go. He could always say he got it customized for Halloween, which isn’t entirely a lie. It was customized for him. As long as he didn’t get nervous and accidentally reveal the truth, he should be fine.

“Hurry and get dressed,” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts with a light pat to your butt. “I’m still wondering about your costume.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you replied and walked to your closest to grab your clothes. Your back was turned as you started to change into your costume. It was plain and simple, yet it would do to convey who you were trying to imitate.

Jungkook was quiet when you slid off your top and replaced it with a black one. It was normal to change in front of each other now, but he could still feel his skin heat as he watched you peel off your clothes. He was so used to having you change in front of him without much care that it felt odd to have you go somewhere else to change.

His eyes followed the curve of your back down to your ass as you bent down to pull up the purple stockings. His fingers twitched at the thought of helping you, his fingers grazing your exposed skin as he tugged the fabric higher until he reached-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you chuckled. Jungkook’s eyes snapped to your face. His cheeks reddened, having been caught ogling. You had already finished putting on your stockings and were sliding on your skirt.

“Sorry,” he mumbled but couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming down your body. “You look great.” He grinned when he recognized the childhood character you used to love. He remembered seeing you watch it in high school, claiming that it was still good despite having already seen all the episodes. He doesn’t recall the show well… Something about a boy who could turn into a ghost?

Once your combat boots were snug on your feet, you walked to stand in front of Jungkook. His hands were quick to rest on your hips.

“Do you like it?” You pondered, hand brushing away his hair. Although he had finally gotten a haircut, the length was longer than he typically wore in high school. He must’ve liked the way he looked after growing it out. Turns out his laziness was helpful for once.

Jungkook slid his hands lower until they rested on the back of your thighs. He squeezed your legs gently, hands just beneath your ass, and pulled you closer.

“Yes,” Jungkook said and leaned in to press a light kiss to your exposed skin above your skirt. Your heart began to hammer in your chest at his affectionate actions.

“You know who I am?” You quizzed and twirled a strand of his hair around your finger mindlessly.

“Pam something,” he replied, not entirely interested in the answer anymore. His hands glided up your legs and slipped beneath your skirt to rest on your butt.

You frowned at his answer. “Sam,” you corrected. “Sam Manson.”

Jungkook hummed but you knew he didn’t care about your response. You called his name to get his attention. He slowly peered at you again, eyes darkening as thoughts of what he wanted to do to you floated in his mind. You noticed the stare and felt your body get giddy; however, there wasn’t time to do anything since the party had already started thirty minutes ago.

“We need to go,” you announced softly and slowly retreated from his grasp.

Jungkook stopped you from moving too far. “Let’s stay here a little longer.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders when he attempted to pull you onto his lap, shaking your head with a teasing smile.

“You were really excited about this party; let’s go.” You argued and reached down to grab his mask from your bed.

“Yeah, but there’s always next year,” he murmured, eyes glued to your uncovered skin. You lifted his chin to look at you, bending down to meet him halfway.

“Don’t be so upset,” you whispered, a hint of a smirk on your face. Your hand slid from his chin to his chest, the feel of his suit sending chills down your spine. There was always something about his suit that had your skin heating up. “I have a surprise for you when we get back.”

Jungkook quirked an eyebrow, ears perked up in interest at what you had up your sleeves. “Care to give me a hint, baby?”

You giggled and pressed your lips against him briefly.

“Nope. Now, take your mask, and let’s get going.”

Jungkook sulked, bottom lip sticking out at your disappointing reply. He reluctantly grabbed his mask from your grasp and stood up. One of his hands was still on you as he did so, making sure you couldn’t walk away. He leaned down, eyes locking with yours as he neared your face.

“We’re not staying long.”

With that, he pecked your lips and adjusted your skirt before ushering you out the door—barely giving you enough time to grab your bag.

Jungkook had an arm wrapped around your shoulder as you walked up to the house. It wasn’t as crowded as you had expected. Sure, there were over a handful of people roaming around, but it wasn’t sardine-packed as you had pictured.

The lawn was cluttered with Halloween-related decorations. It was as if the house vomited its Halloween storage room all over the yard. There weren’t many people entering and exiting the house. They either stayed indoors or out. You glanced at the faces in the yard as you walked by, realizing that many of them you couldn’t recognize. There were a few familiar faces you’d seen in classes, but you’d never spoken to them before.

As you continued your stroll to the door, you noticed many heads turn towards you. No, not you. Jungkook.

You glanced at Jungkook and wondered if he felt the eyes on him. He held onto his mask in his other hand, hair dancing in the light breeze. From the way Jungkook straightened his posture, you knew he was aware of the attention. He peered down at you, flashed you his bunny smile, and continued onwards.

“Woah!” Someone called out when you both entered the house. Music was blaring from a stereo in the other room and there were buckets of candy scattered around along with alcoholic beverages. There was some finger food on the counters, but most of it was gone. “Where did you get the suit? That looks way better than this one.”

You turned your head to the newcomer. The man wore a Spider-Man suit, but it was obvious his wasn’t as nice as Jungkook’s. The stranger's costume was loose and had a tie knotted behind their neck to keep the one piece up. His hands weren’t covered by the suit, which meant the costume either didn’t come with gloves or the guy decided to take them off. The outfit also stopped at the man’s ankles.

Jungkook smiled at the man. “I got it customized.” He replied proudly.

“Seriously? How much did you have to pay?” The guy questioned and leaned in closer, examining the intricate patterns on the material. Before Jungkook could answer, two girls and another so-called Spider-Man appeared. This Spider-Man had a better outfit. The man’s outfit clung to his body and was made out of stretchy fabric, similar to Jungkook’s, but still not the same material.

Your eyes roamed the area as you let Jungkook’s conversation fade with the booming music. You noticed some others dressed as Spider-Man; a few were women with the same tight-fitted outfit. It’s not until your roommate’s face came into view that you slithered from your boyfriend's hold. He didn’t seem to mind as he glanced at you briefly before going back to his new friends.

“Hey Yn!” Jihyun exclaimed. You quickly took in her costume—a red skirt, orange long-sleeve, glasses, and orange knee-high socks. She engulfed you in a quick hug before she looked down at your costume. Her confused expression told you she didn’t recognize who you were dressed as.

“It’s a character from a show I used to watch,” you explained, not feeling the need to go into too many details as she wouldn’t understand.

“Ah,” she said with a nod. “Where’s Jungkook?”

You leaned over to give her a clearer view of your boyfriend behind you. You both glanced to see Jungkook with an arm stretched out, clothed fingers clenching and unclenching. He had his mask on now. He must’ve been asked to put it on for show. Even though you couldn’t see his expression, you imagined he was beaming with pride. It wasn’t every day he was able to be showered with compliments about how well made his suit was. You weren’t there to witness his trial and errors in him making it, but you knew he put a lot of thought into the design and creation. You were on the edge of your imaginary seat seeing him surrounded by people who knew who he was beneath the mask. You hoped none of them connect two and two together.

“I bet your suit is better than the real Spider-Man’s,” the first guy stated.

“You’ve never met him, hyung, so you don’t know that. Spider-Man’s suit has to be better than this guy’s costume. He has to run up walls and stuff,” another guy replied, one who must’ve joined the conversation after you left. The first man rebutted the argument, but you didn’t hear it because one of the girls interrupted.

“Can I touch it?” She asked and held out her hand. As soon as Jungkook nodded his head, she placed her palm against his forearm. Her eyes widened at the soft feel and began to rub up and down his arm.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched the stranger touch Jungkook. It was just his arm she was touching. You ignored the jab from the green goblin on your shoulder as you watched the interaction. Envy didn’t consume you, but you were still wary. Jungkook had this aura when he wore his suit—one that made him more confident. Jungkook didn’t care if he was the center of attention until he was dressed in his suit.

“That’s Jungkook?” Jihyun gasped next to you. You hummed in confirmation.

“That’s an impressive Spider-Man costume he found. I’m sure his is the best one out here,” she complimented. “Hey, you know there’s a costume contest? He should enter!”

“What’s the prize?” You questioned and glanced at your roommate before looking back at Jungkook. The second girl was now rubbing his other arm. You felt your breath halt when the first girl ran her hand higher to his shoulder and near his collar. Jungkook took a small step back and hovered a hand near hers as if ready to grab it if she persisted. The girl’s cheeks grew red and apologized quickly. You couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from tilting upwards at the exchange. You felt a little guilty at that.

“I heard it’s a gift card to a ramen place,” she chuckled. “But hey, free food is free food.”

“True,” you agreed and turned to your friend. There was a sudden presence to your right that had you glancing over. The first thing you saw was Namjoon’s dimples. They were on display as he greeted you with a hug. Jihyun dismissed herself to find the friends she came with, offering Namjoon a small hello before she left.

“Funneth sheeing you hereth,” Namjoon said, though it sounded a little distorted. You tilted your head in confusion and he sighed. He pulled out a plastic set of vampire’s teeth and licked across his top row of teeth. You laughed at the reason behind his distorted words and finally noticed his outfit. It wasn’t much of a costume, just an added black cape to his jeans and short-sleeve outfit with fake blood at the corner of his lip.

“Jungkook wanted to come,” you explained, knowing you were indifferent about attending.

“It’s nice to see you out of your dorm. You know you don’t have to live there, right?” He chuckled. “I can still give you a tour if you want? I know it’s a few months in the semester, but,” he trailed off.

Your smile grew as he spoke. “That’ll be great. I’m sure you can guess, but I haven’t explored campus yet, so a tour would be helpful.”

Namjoon nodded. “Text me later and we can figure out a date and time.”

“Date and time for what?”

You jumped at the new voice behind you; a set of hands rested on your waist. You glanced up to see the famous red and blue mask—the real one.

“Hi Spidey,” you smiled before explaining, “For a campus tour.”

“Jungkook?” Namjoon asked with wide eyes, astonished with his so-called costume. Jungkook pulled off his mask and shook his head to get his hair into place. He smiled at Namjoon.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“I thought you were the real one for a second,” Namjoon laughed. “Great costume.”

Jungkook thanked him and then averted his attention to you; however, you were already looking at Namjoon. You fell back into conversation with your friend. As the minutes passed, you found Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi. You learned there was another party happening and that they planned to visit that one for a moment before going trick or treating. While Yoongi seemed out of his element, he seemed content hanging around the others.

Thirty minutes passed with you hanging out with your friends, talking aimlessly about anything and everything. You could’ve stayed longer, but Jungkook was poking your sides, whining in your ear, and playing with his mask so much you knew he was getting bored.

“Baby,” he murmured to you, “What happened about leaving early?”

You glanced at him and saw he was slumped against the couch cushions. You rolled your eyes at his exaggerated position. Placing a hand on his thigh, you leaned in so he could hear you over the music.

“We’ve only been here for a little over an hour, and you want to go? But you were so excited the past few weeks.”

He shrugged and covered your hand with one of his own. “That was before you teased me earlier,” he pouted and glanced at your lips. You giggled and squeezed his leg.

“I didn’t tease you that much,” you argued. He shook his head in disagreement.

“Let’s go,” he urged, though it was more of a suggestion than a demand.

“And what if I want to stay longer?” You challenged. His lips tipped downwards, and he groaned quietly.

“Five more minutes,” he offered. You smiled at his reply and nodded, averting your attention back to your friends. Jungkook removed your hand from his thigh and started tracing patterns on it mindlessly. Truth be told, you were fine leaving when he asked, but you wanted him to wait a little longer just for the fun of annoying him.

Precisely five minutes later you were hastily telling everyone goodbye as Jungkook tugged on your arm impatiently. He guided you to the door, thanking those who gave him last-minute compliments as he made his way to the exit. The only time he had paused was to grab a handful of candy. He dumped the treats in his mask before walking you to the car you arrived in. Needless to say, he didn’t get the chance to win the costume contest.

He was quick to guide you to his dorm. He shut the door with a shoot of a web.

“We’re back. What’s the surprise?” He asked immediately and plopped down on his bed.

“You’re too antsy,” you laughed, crossing your arms over your chest to stare at him. Jungkook’s gaze flickered to the way your breasts were pushed together at the action.

“I had to wait for two hours. I think it’s time you tell me what it is,” he huffed and opened his mask to distract himself, digging around the candy he had dumped in it before you left the party. He couldn’t stop glancing at your chest and your short skirt earlier. He was slowly going crazy watching you adjust your skirt or top at the party. While you didn’t notice the gazes of the other party attendees, he did. He didn’t like the way some people’s eyes lingered on you. He came close to webbing their eyes shut at one point.

“Hm, you’re right,” you said, a smile on your lips as Jungkook pulled out a small lollipop.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asked when he caught you moving to his bathroom.

You paused at the restroom door. “I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick then I’ll tell you the surprise.”

Jungkook was unwrapping his candy as you spoke but nodded to show he had heard you. He seemed gloomy at having to wait longer. Without another word, you slipped inside with your bag.

While searching for this year’s Halloween costume idea, you stumbled across multiple Spider-Man costumes. Each was styled a little differently depending on the context—goofy, sexy, realistic—but they all were centered around Seoul’s masked hero. You felt a little foolish when you put one of the silly costumes in your cart, but you were also excited to see Jungkook’s reaction. It was originally meant as a joke for the party, though, your eyes had snagged on another costume before you checked out. It was more revealing, something meant to be provocative. You had contemplated your decision for a few minutes. In the end, you went for the latter and decided it would be a costume only Jungkook would see.

You slid the ponytail from your hair and removed the purple eyeshadow, leaving your eyes with eyeliner and mascara only, before replacing your purple lipstick with red. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared at your reflection. The costume was a one-piece with black-webbed patterns on it to mimic his original suit. The front was red while the sides were blue. The top stopped low, revealing the soft curves of your breasts that were slightly covered by black elastic strands in another web-like pattern. The same pattern was on the back, showing off more skin. Etched on the middle of your chest was the Spider-Man logo. The bottom did nothing to cover your skin and almost felt uncomfortable from the way the cut sat high on your hips. You supposed it was just the fact you weren’t used to wearing this style. You finished the outfit with black heels that laced up your legs.

You had tried it on when it first arrived, only this time felt different. You felt more conscious of how much you were, or weren’t, wearing. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Although it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve worn something so racy in front of Jungkook, this was based on his suit. You were nervous he wouldn’t like it; you didn’t want him to feel offended. However, you spent the money and might as well commit.

Taking a deep breath, you quietly opened the door.

Jungkook’s focus was away from you, kneeling down and trying to retrieve something under his bed. He was still in his spider suit, mask abandoned on his bed, and a lollipop hanging from his mouth. Your hands ran down your costume to smooth it out, giving your hands something to do in an attempt to call your nerves.

“Baby,” you murmured.

Jungkook turned his head to you and was mid “yeah” when he got a glimpse of your outfit. His doe eyes grew, blinking rapidly in case his eyes were deceiving him. He quickly staggered up, arms dangling by his sides as he took in what you were wearing.

“Wh- Wha-” he stuttered. He removed the candy from his mouth. His eyes remained wide as they trailed down your body languidly. You noticed the way his chest rose and fell faster. His jaw clenched, making his features more prominent, and his eyes narrowed as they became clouded with a familiar look. His silence had you shifting your weight from one foot to another.

“Is it too much?” You asked and rubbed one of your arms, needing to do something to get your jitters out of your system. Jungkook approached you slowly, eyes still lingering on every detail of your outfit.

“No, you look amazing,” he said promptly and tilted your chin up to meet your eyes. “But if you wanted to be webbed up, you could’ve just asked, baby girl.”

Your cheeks heated at his comment and you tried to turn your head, but he kept it in place. His lips raised in a reassuring smile when he noticed how tense you were. “Don’t be shy,” he continued. “Is this the surprise?”

You nodded. His grin grew, and he leaned down to steal a kiss.

“Hm, I’m glad you didn’t wear this to the party. You would’ve stolen the spotlight,” he joked, trying to ease your nerves. From the small smile forming on your lips, he knew it worked. He slotted his lips on yours once more, pulling you close to his body with one hand. His tongue found yours easily, kiss progressively getting fervent. Your hands wandered down his chest, feeling his muscles tense from your ghosting fingertips.

Jungkook hummed when he felt how much the outfit failed to cover your butt. He pulled back and moved your body to the side so he could peer at the back of your suit.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he groaned in appreciation, hand coming down on one of your ass cheeks. His lips were faintly red from your lipstick and you were sure it was smeared now. One of your hands held onto his forearm for support while the other trailed up the side of his neck. It tangled in his hair and you tugged him closer—needing to feel his lips again. He leaned into your touch, only looking away from your backside at the last minute.

Jungkook pulled away from the kiss after a few seconds, placing the lollipop back in his mouth. He bent down slightly and grabbed your thighs. He lifted you up easily, and you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist. You leaned forward and kissed his neck, sucking gently to leave scattered marks. Even though watching the other girls trying to get cozy with Jungkook earlier didn't bother you in the least, you couldn't help the spark of possessiveness that blossomed through you.

Jungkook softly moaned at the feel of your lips upon his skin. He adjusted his hands to rest on your ass and kneaded it occasionally. One of his hands moved lower, fingers grazing your folds through your costume. You pulled away with a gasp; your chest brushed against his as you tried to calm your breathing. You shivered at his subtle touches, hands clutching his body for a second.

“Everyone liked your suit,” you said and glanced at it as you recalled everyone gawking over it. He smiled, keeping his face close to yours, fingers feather-light against your clit.

“They did,” he hummed. “But I like yours better.”

Jungkook paused his movements against your clothed core and secured his arm around your back. He removed the lollipop and held it out to you. You kitten licked the candy, tasting to see if you liked the flavor. When you realized you did, you wrapped your lips around it and sucked. Jungkook twirled the candy in your mouth for a moment before letting it go. It stayed between your lips.

Jungkook kissed just beneath your jaw near your ear. You felt secure in his hold, carefully moving his hair from his eyes and not worrying about him dropping you abruptly.

“I don’t know; I’ve always found you sexy in yours,” you replied, suppressing a moan as Jungkook pressed your body closer. Your eyes closed for a moment as you focused on the mixture of his hands and the way his mouth pressed kisses along your jawline then to your chest, over the straps.

“Is that so?” He chuckled, grabbing one of the straps between his teeth. He pulled back slightly before releasing the material, watching as it snapped against your skin. He hadn’t moved far enough for it to hurt, but there was a hint of a sting to it. You nodded at his question. The corner of his lip quirked in a small smirk. You pulled the lollipop from your mouth and brought it to his lips. He licked the candy a few times before nudging it back to you. Your eyes were fixated on the way his tongue swirled around it. He chuckled at your expression.

“Eat the rest of it,” he murmured. You did as you were told and chewed off the candy from the stick since there wasn’t much left. You hummed happily and tossed the remnants in his trash bin near you. He smiled fondly at you and continued to tease your pussy. His fingers prodded your entrance, which caused your hips to buck against him.

“You want me to fuck you in my suit, baby?” He asked lowly when he recalled your earlier comment, eyes watching your face carefully. Your heart leaped in your chest. You couldn’t stop your legs from squeezing his waist, moving you closer to his taut figure. He got his answer from the way your body reacted.

“‘M not wearing the right suit, but I’ll make do,” he mumbled and walked you to his bed. He gently laid you down and slid his hands from your breasts, massaging them briefly, all the way down to your legs. He felt himself harden at the dark patch between your legs. Usually, he would tease you, but having been forced to leave your dorm before anything could happen earlier, he was too worked up.

One of his fingers hooked underneath your one-piece to move it to the side. He almost moaned when he saw your arousal sticking to the underside of your outfit. He brought his other hand to touch your folds, smirking to himself when his fingers were coated with your wetness within seconds.

“Do you like me in the suit this much?” He smirked playfully and circled your clit. You whined at his touch. Something about him in his suit had a fire light inside you. The way the material hugged his firm body had you wanting to run your hand across every inch of him. At least, this urge was mainly prominent when he wasn’t in grave danger. In those times, you worried about him being in his suit.

Jungkook’s mouth on your clit tore you from your thoughts. He sucked on the bud, finger still rubbing between your folds. His other hand came up to play with your breasts through the costume, pinching your nipple to elicit a wanton gasp from your lips. Your legs quivered every once in a while, threatening to close in on his head at every harsh suck or flick of his tongue. One of your hands flew to his hair when he slid in a finger. He pumped it slowly at first, quickly increasing his speed along with the number of fingers in your hole.

“Jungkook,” you panted, grip tightening on his locks when he spread his fingers. The stretch felt good, but you knew it was nothing compared to when he stretched you with his dick.

“You sound so pretty, jagi,” he cooed, his breath hitting your soaking cunt. He flattened his tongue and licked one long stripe against your slicken folds. You clutched the sheets under you when you felt his tongue rapidly flick against you; you shuddered in pleasure while you tried to muffle your sinful noises against your arm. You leaned up to get a glimpse of him. His eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he savored the taste of you. Your grip on his hair tightened as you pushed your hips up. You slowly moved your hips against his tongue.

Jungkook’s tongue circled your entrance, teasing it before dipping his tongue in briefly. You panted his name again, which caused his grip on your breasts to get stronger. Your body jerked when you felt his fingers on your clit. They circled it quickly. It wasn’t long until your legs trembled with your approaching high.

“Jung-” You gasped, feeling every movement of his quicken.

“Go on, baby.” He encouraged, though his words were muffled as he kept his face close to your pussy.

“B-but I wanted to come with you,” you complained and tried to pull your hips away. Jungkook stopped you quickly, holding you still.

“Who said this was going to be the only time you were coming tonight?” Jungkook laughed, not stopping his movements as he spoke. You barely registered his words as you tipped over the edge, coming with a loud moan that filled Jungkook’s ego.

Jungkook moaned as you came, mouth and hands relentless as he helped you ride out your orgasm. He lapped up your juices as your knees grew weak. Your body melted into the mattress, mouth agape as Jungkook licked you clean. Before you came back to reality, Jungkook was grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. He moved off the bed and pulled you to him; your feet were on the floor, and your body was bent over the edge of his bed. A surprised yelp escaped your lips at the sudden change and you peered behind you to look at him.

Jungkook was palming himself through his suit as his eyes scanned over your body. His nose and chin glistened, making you feel aroused at the sight. You started to stand up, but Jungkook pressed a hand down on your lower back.

“Stay like that,” he rasped, voice gruff as he continued to touch himself. You whined as you were forced to watch him pleasure himself. The snug fabric did nothing to hide his bulge—making the shape more prominent. He smirked down at you when he heard your desperate whimpers.

“Want something?” He chuckled, hand gripping your ass. You nodded, and you tried to get up again, but like before, he stopped you.

“Use your words. You know I love to hear your voice, pretty girl,” he murmured, tongue-swiping his lower lip. He groaned when he tasted you again.

“Want you,” you huffed and reached out to touch him. He watched as your hand fell out of reach of his crotch. “Want to touch you. Please.”

He glanced down at your pouty lips and was tempted to tug on your bottom lip. “Well, since you used your manners,” he trailed off. He shuffled closer and removed his hand from his crotch. Your hand quickly rested on his bulge; you felt yourself getting wet again at the feel of his cock. It was firm and thick, making you squeeze your legs together to get some friction.

Jungkook released a strangled breath, fist-clenching at his sides as you rubbed him roughly. He gently pushed your hand from him and began discarding his suit. You watched with hungry eyes as it peeled off his body, exposing his rippled torso. He moved it just enough to free his cock, but since this version of his suit—he had multiple—was a one-piece, his upper half was completely bare.

“I’ll keep your earlier statement in mind for the future,” he said, remembering the way you became needier at the thought of him fucking you in his suit.

One of his hands rubbed your ass while the other pumped his shaft slowly. You angled yourself so you could get a better look at him. His hair was messy, and his breathing was uneven. When he caught you staring, he smiled. It was small, one where his teeth weren’t on display, but it was beautiful nonetheless. His eyes softened, and he quickly leaned over you, chest against your back as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. You smiled into it and propped yourself on your hands to get closer. One of his hands wrapped around your chest as he pulled you back until you were standing against his body. His other hand came to rest on your cheek, caressing it adoringly as he rubbed his thumb across your skin.

“I love you,” he whispered after he pulled away and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. The butterflies escaped their cage in your chest, beating rapidly at the three words.

“I love you more,” you replied, lips spread in a wide smile.

“Not possible,” he retorted. Before you could argue, he continued in a whisper, “Gonna’ fuck you until you’re sore, baby.”

Jungkook’s hand found its way between your legs again, causing you to gasp when you felt his fingers glide between your folds before sliding a finger inside you. He grinned when he heard your breath hitch. He removed his fingers from your pussy, making you whine at the loss of contact. He pressed one last kiss to your lips before he pressed you back onto the bed.

He didn’t make you wait long and gathered your arousal with his tip before slowly pushing the head in. A small moan bubbled from your throat, and your hands briefly clutched his sheets. Jungkook pulled out, rubbed his shaft against your pussy a few times, then pushed in again. This time, he didn’t stop until he bottomed out. You mewled when you felt his hips meet yours, dick stretching your walls pleasantly.

His movements were leisurely the first couple of thrusts, enjoying the way his dick disappeared inside you. You felt so warm and tight around him. He loved watching the way your pussy stretched around his thick cock. The sound of your pretty moans spurred him to move faster. His grip on your hips tightened as his thrusts quickened in pace. He bit his lip as he watched where your bodies connected. His moans were being mixed with yours. Your eyes closed as you focused on the feel of his dick sliding in and out. Jungkook watched your face, taking note of the way your lips parted and eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“So good to me,” he praised. “I love how tight you are for me.”

You cried out his name when he slammed into you, pressing himself against you as much as he could. He reached forward, grabbed a fist full of your hair, and tugged you up.

“You enjoying yourself, jagi?” He questioned. He began to grind himself against your ass, moaning lowly in your ear.

“Yes,” you breathlessly replied.

“Wanna tell me who’s making you feel so good?” He asked. You knew what he was searching for. Jungkook had always loved when he received compliments. It stroked his ego and made him feel appreciated. Even in high school, he wanted people to recognize him for who he was, not the image being placed upon him by his peers.

“You,” you shivered. “You fucking me.”

He hummed in approval. “You like the way I fuck you, baby?”

Jungkook began to move his hips again, slowly sliding out until only the tip remained before shoving back inside you in a single thrust. The force caused your body to jerk forward, but Jungkook’s grip on your hair kept you from moving too far. A broken whimper slipped past your parted lips at the action—pleasure and pain intermingling.

“Yes,” you repeated. “Love when you’re rough—when you fuck me hard.”

He chuckled, except the sound wasn’t as sweet as it usually was. It was darker, a little sinister.

“I’m not even using all my strength,” he said and stilled his movements. “You want it harder? Hm? Want me to show you how strong I am?”

You nodded eagerly, not thinking of the possible bruises he may inflict by gripping you so firmly.

Jungkook released your hair suddenly, though before you fully fell onto the bed, you were yanked back again. Your hands were touching the mattress, but most of your weight was being held by Jungkook. He had grabbed onto the straps that formed a spider web on your back.

“You know I haven’t webbed you this time,” he thought out loud as he eyed the pattern of your costume. “Kinda wanna change that.”

“N-no,” you protested.

“No?” He asked, partly worried if he had hurt you last time because of them.

“You said they dissolve in two hours,” you huffed. “I don’t want them on me for that long.” You started to circle your hips. You were keen to feel him move. He hid his smile at your eagerness but didn’t stop you—holding back a groan.

“I took them off last time, so they weren’t on you for that long,” he frowned.

“It still took you some time to remove them.”

“It’ll be different now,” he pouted, mind turning fuzzy from the pleasure you were giving him. “These are less durable.”

“You can take them off quicker?” There was disbelief laced in your question.

Jungkook slowed your hips with one of his hands. He was finding it hard to concentrate on what you were saying.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “But please just move, Jungkook.” You pleaded, half whining from the wait. You couldn’t see his facial expression at your answer, but you were sure he was smiling.

You felt him lean against you, and within seconds there was a soothing kiss on your shoulder. The gentleness didn’t last long, though. He had a firm grip on your costume, and he started to snap his hips against yours again. His speed increased swiftly, muttering praises as he pounded into your tight core. It didn’t matter how many times he had fucked you; the euphoric mixture of love and lust overwhelmed him every time.

The telltale signs of your second orgasm were approaching quickly. Your legs were feeling weaker as they shook beneath your weight. Jungkook groaned when you clenched around him. He let go of you abruptly, which had you falling onto the mattress. He slid out of you and you fussed at the empty feeling, pussy clenching around nothing.

“On the bed,” he said and brought a hand down on your ass. You moved a leg up, ready to untie the straps of your heels to take them off, but Jungkook grabbed your hand. “Leave them on.”

You glanced back at him in confusion. He was staring down at you with hazy eyes, palm stroking his dick as he waited for you to comply. From the look in his eyes, you knew you had made the right decision to wear them. The heels accentuated the curve of your ass and made your body look sexier to him. He took a mental note to have you wear them again.

You climbed onto the bed, getting ready to lie down on your back when Jungkook spoke.

“Flip over, on your stomach.” He waited until you did so before he climbed behind you. His hands traveled from your ankles to just under your ass, pushing it up and causing it to become fuller. He shook his hands and bit his lip at the way your ass moved. He mumbled something about how pretty you looked, but his voice was too low to hear well. With one last squeeze, he pulled away.

“Up,” he commanded and nudged your hips. You compiled automatically, hips lifting in the air. He grabbed your arms and pulled them behind your back. Your cheek was pressed into his sheets. From your peripheral, you saw his hand flip to where his palm was up. His middle and ring finger pressed down; your wrists were tied with webs within seconds.

“I think you’re enjoying your powers too much,” you teased as you tried to separate your arms. As expected, nothing happened. Jungkook trailed a hand down one of your arms calmly.

“You just look so pretty bound with my webs,” he said and grabbed onto your tied wrists. With one hand, he moved the bottom of your costume away again as it had fallen back into place, then aligned his cock at your entrance. He shoved in at once, picking up where he left off at a fast pace. Each movement nudged you closer to your release which he had disrupted earlier. You were a moaning mess. His cock was slamming into you forcefully, yet his pace wasn’t quick. He had traded speed with strength. It had your toes curl and your fists clench.

“Close,” you whined. Although Jungkook didn’t verbally respond, his thrusts became rougher. You could feel yourself move up the sheets with each snap of his hips. Jungkook kept his hands on your hips and lifted them anytime they fell or you slid too far forward, forcing you to keep your knees underneath you. You felt deliciously full. You could feel every inch of his thick cock penetrating your walls. Your pussy was fluttering around him as you were edging closer to your orgasm. Jungkook snaked a hand around you, circling your clit fast and hard. His swift ministrations were your undoing and you came with a cry of his name, broken moans and whimpers following closely after.

He thrust a few more times before he stopped. Jungkook sat back and unexpectedly pulled you back so his thighs were under yours. Your legs squeezed his body when he trailed a hand from your wrists to shoulder, gently massaging it and keeping your torso on the mattress.

“Want your cum, baby,” you mewled when you realized he hadn’t come yet. Your haze was fading, and although he was still buried in your pussy, you felt empty.

“Go on then,” he encouraged and slapped your ass with his other hand. “Make me fill this sweet pussy.”

Your hips jerked when he smacked your ass harder, whining at the sting and the way his cock felt in you. However, you didn’t stay stunned long. You raised your hips up and slid them down again. Jungkook moaned behind you, watching the way your pussy swallowed him. Your movements were quick and sloppy.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he praised. His mouth parted, hair stuck to his forehead from his sweat. There was a sheen of perspiration covering his chest. His eyes were glued to your lower half—to the way your ass bounced as you slammed down on his dick. He loved watching your pussy suck him back in. His breathing was harsh; his thighs were tensing at the tight feeling in his stomach.

You whimpered when you started to feel overstimulated, movements choppy and slowed as you fought through the feeling. Jungkook rubbed your back momentarily before shoving you toward and pushing your ass in the air once more when he regained some energy. He shifted to where he forced your body into the mattress as he got a deeper angle.

He pounded into you as he chased his high. The sound of skin slapping was prominent in his room, and you wondered how thick these walls were. Jungkook didn’t seem to care, though. He rammed into you and held onto you securely. Although you wanted it harder, he still refrained some of his strength not to hurt you.

“Jungkook,” you cried, voice muffled by the mattress. Jungkook became more vocal as he shoved inside you the last few thrusts. He did one final thrust and stilled his hips against yours as far as he could go. He shot his load inside you, eyes closed and eyebrows knitted as he washed in waves of ecstasy. Your hips and shoulders were beginning to ache, but the pleasure between your legs was worth it.

Jungkook pulled from you and rubbed his hands on the back of your legs momentarily. He trailed his hands upwards to spread your ass when he started to see his seed leak from your pussy. His eyes followed the way it slid down your folds. He could’ve sworn he felt his dick twitch at the sight. Before it could drop onto his bed, he adjusted the bottom of your outfit.

He patted your ass and climbed off his bed. You let your hips fall, sighing internally at the comfortable position. You heard some rustling before the bed dipped again with his weight. Before a complaint about still being tied left your lips, Jungkook had freed you. You rolled onto your side and saw him placing a pocket knife on his dresser.

“You okay?” He asked softly, glancing at your wrists and hips. Although your wrists didn’t hurt, you lifted your hands towards him with a feigned pout. He chuckled and peppered delicate kisses onto your wrists. He peered down at your hips. He tenderly rubbed at the skin he had gripped, guilt flooding his chest at having been a little too hard.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. You had both come up with a safe word, and since you didn’t use it, you didn’t want him to feel bad. It wasn’t as painful as he was imagining.

“Stop pouting,” you added when you saw his lips continue to dip down. “You weren’t that rough.”

He eyed you suspiciously but eventually seemed to relent. He removed the rest of his suit and shoved it in a box he kept under his bed—taking a mental note to wash it later. He crawled in bed with you, tugging the covers from under your body to cover you both.

“What are you going to do with that costume?” He asked and traced the straps across your chest.

“Thought about wearing it to next year’s Halloween party. It’ll save me money since I wore something else this year,” you coyly replied and poked his side.

“Not gonna happen,” he snorted.

“Why is that?”

“It’s going to be ruined by the time you try to leave,” he said. “You got lucky I didn’t rip it off your body this time.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and pushed him onto his back. You straddled his lap and placed your hands flat against his solid chest. “You shred this; you owe me money.”

He laughed, rubbing the top of your thighs lazily as he stared up at you. You traced some of the scars marred on his chest from various fights. They were mostly from his earlier years, but it didn’t help remind you of what could happen to him. While he was more experienced now, there were still many possibilities for injuries.

“I’ll give you good dick instead,” he argued confidently.

“Trading in money for sex, Jungkook?” You teased and raised your eyebrows.

“More like forgiveness for sex,” he scoffed. “Can’t have my baby being mad at me, now can I?”

“I’ll also take some gummies for forgiveness, too,” you said and tapped the mole under his lower lip.

“Noted,” he said. You smiled, climbing off his lap and standing next to his bed.

“What happened to cuddle time?” He complained and sat up. He reached out for you, but you moved from his hands quickly.

“I want to change,” you replied. “May I borrow one of your shirts?”

“You know borrow doesn’t fit in your vocabulary; you never return them,” he mumbled but walked to his closest to fetch you a random shirt of his.

You shrugged and held out your hand for it. Instead of throwing it, Jungkook walked to you.

“Yet you always give them to me regardless.”

He let out a small huff at your counter, knowing it was true. “Yeah, yeah. Get changed, little brat.”

You glared at him but it didn’t seem to faze him. He simply handed you the shirt and waited for you to change. He reached out when you started to walk away again.

“I need to clean up your mess, too,” you explained as you stood at the entry of his bathroom. He smirked at that, remembering how he watched his load spill from you.

“I can help with that,” he said, eyes drifting down to your crotch.

“With your tongue?” You bantered and walked farther into the bathroom. You moved your hair before starting to unzip the outfit.

“Are you offering?” He followed you inside and quickly helped you slide down the zipper.

“You just want a round two,” you said and pulled your arms out of the outfit. Once your arms were free, Jungkook carefully peeled the costume from your body. You grabbed his shoulders as you stepped out of it. While you quickly undid the ties of your heels, Jungkook tossed the costume on the floor. Before you could slip his shirt on, he stilled your arms.

“What do you say?” He asked, voice dropping an octave. He backed you against the bathroom’s small counter, hands coming up to rub your bare sides. “Wanna come for the third time tonight?”

You giggled and set his shirt on the counter. “You’re lucky you’re irresistible.”

“Right back at ya’ babe,” he chuckled and pecked your lips. Before he could slot his mouth against yours, there was a rustling at the main door. He quickly extended an arm, shooting a web that shut the bathroom door at the same time the other door opened.

“Code purple!” Jungkook called out and the footsteps halted. There was grumbling on the other side and you faintly heard Yoongi’s voice.

“Hey Namjoon, can I stay the night at your place?” There was a second muffled voice before Yoongi spoke again. “My room is occupied.”

The other door shut and Jungkook slowly lowered his arm.

“You have code colors?” You giggled.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I got rid of him. Now kiss me.”

“I could’ve left. I don’t want to intru-“

“Too late; kiss me,” he hurried and puckered his lips as he leaned forward. You shook your head at his antics but complied.

“Good girl,” he muttered and glided one hand up your chest while the other traveled between your legs. You moaned into the kiss at his touch. Despite the pleasure he was providing, you pushed his hands away. He opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly lowered yourself. He grabbed his shirt from the counter, rolled it up, then dropped it on the floor in front of you. You whispered a ‘thank you’ as you moved it under your knees. It was small actions like that that had you feeling like the luckiest person on the planet.

Thank you for reading! 🥰 I still monitor my SBaFL survey and I'm so honored for all the replies I've gotten. It may not be many for some, but it's a lot more than I expected. I really appreciate everyone's time. Thank you for the feedback and for helping me. I'll try to do some drabbles based on what some of you suggested for more content. No guarantee they'll be published soon though because classes consume my life D: My asks are also open for suggestions. The survey is still open if you want to provide your input. It's 100% anonymous.

Thank you again. Feedback is always greatly appreciated c:

I hope you all are staying safe and happy.

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[jelzorz]

the people need ia93b

Ok nonny but this one's on you

93b

It's an honest mistake.

Honestly.

Crow—because that's just what people call him now and there's no real point trying to fight it, he supposes—is busy, and his ticket to college relies on academics and extracurriculars. He's a little in over his head and that happens sometimes, but basically the point is that it's not entirely his fault it happened.

The Valentine's Day stall is busy this year. Busier than its ever been, and he likes to think it's because they've been using vintage memes. It got a good laugh out of the staff (Mr. Gren) anyway, and the younger kids might complain but the results speak for themselves. They've raised probably twice the average amount of money they usually make on Valentine's Day, which is great for his resume—and charity, of course—but it also means he's spending his free period trying to match cards to roses to recipients.

It's a shame though. It's nice outside, and he doesn't even like the outdoors much. It's nice enough that he indulges himself for a minute—a minute—and gets up for a break. The cards and roses will be fine, right? It's only a minute.

Only it's not a minute. Miss Opeli wrangles him into helping sort memos. Mr. Gren borrows him for admin stuff. Principal Harrow asks him for his opinion on the upcoming dance. He's a teacher's pet if there ever was one (so what?) but anyway, this is all just to prove a point, and that point is this:

What happens after isn't entirely his fault.

He can't be blamed for the open window. He can't be blamed for being called away by teachers.

He can't be blamed for the football that lands on his pile of roses and scatters all his cards.

And, listen, he does his best, okay? Sorting cards and roses on its own is a big job, but sorting them again after they've been messed up is—

Well.

It's not his fault. Not entirely.

x

"Roses!"

The otherwise silent classroom startles, and Miss Opeli rolls her eyes but waves a hand. "Get it over with," she grumbles, retreating to the far side of her desk, an Soren grins at the room full of juniors and starts on the cards.

Rayla shrinks into her chair. She never did return that card, and she hopes with every fibre of her being that Soren hadn't actually gone ahead and sent one anyway. He'd been joking, surely. Surely. And for five or so minutes, it feels like that all it was—

Until he gets to the last couple of roses in his delivery.

"I got one here for Rayla," he says, laying it on her desk with a flourish. "And look at that, one for Callum, too!"

He winks at them both, stupidly obvious and hammy about it, and struts out of the room looking pleased.

"You got a rose!" says Callum, leaning over his desk, his smile kinda nervous. "Who's it from?"

Rayla shifts uncomfortably. This was never part of the plan, was it? She opens the card and it's...

Not signed?

"No one, apparently," she mumbles, shoving the rose towards him.

Callum's smile falters, just a little. "Oh. Maybe you've got a secret admirer?"

"Mm." Rayla wrinkles her nose. "Who's—er—who's yours from?"

"Oh, um." Callum flushes and glances down at his card. He pales. He flushes again. His grin grows wider, and he glances at Rayla with a smile so wide that, for a second, she thinks—hooes, even—that Soren's stupid plan might have worked in her favour after all.

"'Callum'," Callum reads. "'Thanks for being such a great friend. Love, Claudia.'"

Rayla stares.

Callum almost swoons. "Do you think—do you reckon she means it? Do you think, maybe, after all this time, she might—"

He doesn't finish the question. Rayla doesn't need him to—the hopeful, enamoured spark in his eye is enough.

"Maybe," she squawks. "I'm—congrats, I guess."

Callum glances at her. His smile falters for real. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine," says Rayla, looking away. Her heart feels cracked in two, but what else can she say? She can't take this away from him. She grins weakly and pats his arm. "Good for you. I'm glad."

(Somewhere in the school, Crow's neck prickles. Something's not right, he thinks. Something's gone wrong. He brushes it off and thinks nothing of it).

[3pirouette]

Fic: A Tiny Infinity (1/1)

Title: A Tiny Infinity By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: CA:TFA Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 13278 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Steggy Bingo Bash Prompt “Soulmate AU” Peggy’s only ever met one other person, in her very long life, with a soul mark.

A/N: Set during and post CA:TFA, obviously goes AU from there.  

TW for minor alcohol abuse and brief mention of a suicide attempt.

~*~ May 2011

“Auntie Peggy?”

Peggy turned from her computer to see Morgan standing in the doorway. She smiled indulgently at the girl, turning away from her work. “Morgan, it’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

The little girl stepped further into the study, clutching her stuffed pig. “I couldn’t sleep and Hammy and I need a story.”

Peggy laughed to herself, saving the file she was working on before shutting her laptop and turning back to the girl. “Is that so?”

Morgan Stark nodded very seriously. She lifted her stuffed animal to her ear, then looked back up at Peggy as she moved to her. “Hammy also says we need a snack.”

Peggy lifted the little girl into her arms, looking at her very seriously. “I do believe your Mum and Dad said no sweets tonight, but a story, I can do.”

Peggy walked the girl through her apartment in Stark Tower and back to the guest bedroom Morgan was currently occupying. She didn’t mind babysitting duty at all, and was glad to give Tony and Pepper a night out. Morgan pulled at the strands of hair that were falling from Peggy’s bun and tucked them behind her ear, mimicking the way Peggy and Pepper often tried to keep the little whirlwind of a girl looking presentable. “Auntie Peggy?”

“Yes, my love?” Peggy gently set her on the bed and pulled the stool from the vanity over to sit next to her.

Morgan tried to snuggle herself under her comforter. “Is it true you knew my Daddy when he was my age?”

“Yes, my love. He always wanted sweets at bedtime, too.” Peggy tickled Morgan, laughing with her as she shifted her in bed and untangled the mess of the blankets the girl had made.

Morgan rubbed her face, a sure sign she was tired, but her eyes were fighting to stay open. “Auntie Peggy?”

“He always had as many questions as you do, too!” Peggy let her finger bounce off of Morgan’s nose sweetly before moving to tuck the small stuffed pig in.

Morgan reached up, playing with one of Peggy’s fallen curls again. “Tell me about soulmates. I want that to be my story tonight.”

Peggy was slightly taken aback, but knew the question would come from the girl sooner or later. Though the phenomenon was rare, it seemed every week there was a new documentary on some streaming platform about another pair found somewhere in the world. “Yes, very well, then.” Peggy tucked Morgan in tighter and leaned forward on the bed, resting her head on her hands as she spoke. “Soul bonds are very uncommon, indeed, and even the smartest people in the world—”

Morgan smiled, bouncing a bit. “Like Daddy?”

Peggy smiled, “Yes, like your Daddy, don’t know how or why they exist. But they do.” Peggy smiled, fingers itching at her watch band. “When two people who are soul bonded fall in love and they touch, they get a mark on the arm they touched that other person with. Sometimes it is a dot, like a little birthmark,” Peggy poked a tiny spot on Morgan’s arm, “and sometimes it is a great big design like a tattoo.” Peggy tickled up her entire arm, making the girl giggle.

Morgan shifted to her side, hugging her pig tight. “Do they get to pick it?”

Peggy shook her head. “No. Whatever design they get represents something important about their love, but no one really knows for sure. They only get it once they know they’re in love and they’re ready to be with that person for the rest of their life.” Peggy sighed. “Sometimes the people get special things from their soulmate. They can feel their feelings or they get healthier or even, sometimes, they can read their partner’s mind.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “For real?”

Peggy smiled and nodded. “For real.”

“Will I get a mark if I touch someone?” Morgan asked, looking at her hands.

Peggy shook her head, smiling. “No, my dear. It only works if both people have decided to love one another like a mommy and daddy do forever and ever. And it’s rare. It’s so very rare. So even people who love each other very much, like your Mommy and Daddy, don’t have them.”

Morgan yawned. “Do you know anyone with a soul bond Auntie Peggy?”

“I’ve only ever met one person in my whole, very long life.” Peggy looked up across the room, meeting her reflection in the mirror there. She smiled sadly down at the girl before she leaned over, kissing her on the forehead. “Now, get some sleep.”

~*~ March 1945

Steve sat across from her in the bombed-out husk of the bar, tears pooling in his eyes. “I just can’t help but think- if I’d have been just a little faster- a little stronger…”

Peggy reached out, letting her hand cover his.

Instead of being comforting, it felt like lightning.

The shock ran up their arms and they grabbed one another’s hands tight as the sensation ran through them both.

The tears that had been welling in Steve’s eyes fell down his cheeks, his face full of shock. He didn’t let her hand go as he stammered, “Wh- What was that?”

Peggy shook as she took a slow, deep breath. She looked down at their hands and slowly let go, even though Steve seemed intent on holding on. When she flipped her hand over the mark was on the inside of her wrist, like a burn. The angry, red flesh was raising up like a welt: a thin, interconnected line that formed an infinity symbol. She looked up at Steve’s wrist which was showing the same welt rising from his skin, larger and thicker, right where her fingers had just brushed his flesh.

The pain surprised her as it settled flat, the redness fading, the sightly darker, raised skin now a permanent fixture. Her eyes flitted between their hands as she watched the colors slowly darken, the welts looking more and more like perfect, delicate tattoos with each second that passed.

“Peg…” Steve’s voice was horse, his own surprise plain and warring on his face with panic. “I didn’t mean to… I was…”

Peggy grabbed the bottle in front of Steve and took a long swig. “Don’t you dare try to weasel your way out of this, Rogers.” She coughed, the whisky stronger than she expected.

His panicked look shifted a bit, a small smile on the corner of his mouth as he wiped the wetness from his cheeks. “I- I was thinking that if you came here, maybe… maybe you care about me like I care about you, and that after what happened today maybe I should stop being stupid about it and just tell you that I think I love you.”

Peggy’s smile bloomed, she tried to hide it behind another swig of whisky from the bottle. She coughed less this time, and slid the bottle back across the table. “I was thinking very nearly the same thing.”

Instead of taking the bottle, he reached his hand out for hers. Peggy laid her wrist out next to his and they examined the delicate, raised lines. “I thought these weren’t real,” Steve whispered out.

“My Mum said my Nan had one. She and my Pop died before I was born so I never saw it myself, but…” Carefully, Peggy let her hand touch Steve’s, waiting for the shock that never came. “I’ve never met anyone else with one.”

Steve squeezed her hand tight, tears welling up again. The words fell from his lips, the delight tinged with deep sadness. “If you came to distract me, it’s working!” He used his other hand to wipe harshly at his face again as new tears surfaced. “Bucky used to tell me all the time that he thought I’d have a soulmate. That out of everyone he’d ever met in his life, he thought I’d manage to be the one that had one and I’d end up with some crazy looking tattoo mark on my face.”

Peggy reached her other hand out, rubbing it up and down his forearm. “He was a good friend.”

Steve laughed through his tears. “Yeah, and I owe him five bucks.”

Peggy tilted her head, her smile both amused and somewhat sad, “You bet him that you wouldn’t find love?”

“Soulmate. Different.” He swallowed hard and laid his free hand on top of their entwined hands, his face serious. “This… this doesn’t have to change anything, Peg. We’ve just been…”

She licked her lips and smiled at him. “Dancing around it?”

His head fell as he smiled. “I deserve that.”

“We don’t have to do anything about this right now,” she supplied, taking his other hand in hers so they were holding both tight. “Which seems silly because the exact reason they’ve popped up tonight is because we had decided to actually do something.”

Steve gave a small tug with his hands and Peggy stood, rounding the table and sinking into his lap. She settled as he wrapped his arms around her, their faces close enough she could feel his breath on her cheek. She let one hand rest on his shoulder as the other slowly started combing through his hair, smoothing it and pulling out bits of ash as she let her fingernails massage across his scalp.

His eyes fluttered closed under her ministrations, his breaths coming harder and more stilted. His head fell to her shoulder as his arms tightened around her, his words muffled against her coat. “I lost my best friend today, Peggy. He was the only family I had left.”

She could feel his tears against her neck as she wrapped her arms tight around him, rocking gently. She kissed his temple. “You’re not alone, Steve. I’ll never let you be alone, I promise you that.”

~*~ May 2011

Peggy passed her office and moved to the bathroom. She fully expected Morgan to be up in five more minutes, asking for another story. The girl rarely made it to bed without at least two, even when she was dreadfully tired.

Just like her father before her.

Peggy looked in the mirror, pulled at the corners of her eyes and smiled and frowned. She hadn’t aged at all since the day the Valkyrie was lost. Her hair was still thick and vibrant without a single grey in sight. No crow’s feet. No laugh lines.

She hadn’t even had so much as a sniffle in all that time.

Peggy pulled off her watch and ran her fingers over the infinity symbol, still slightly raised, still as artful and as delicate as the day it was burned into her skin forever.

If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the static as Steve’s voice cut out on her, could feel Phillips hovering, waiting for her to collapse. Legend, lore, myth, or truth… just like everyone knew soulmates were for forever, they also knew that when one died, the other was not long for this world. Peggy waited at that console for what felt like hours for her heart to stop in her chest as the SSR took control of the base.

The fact that she hadn’t died had been painful to her at first. She thought it meant he was still alive somewhere, suffering.

After a few days, her own beating heart was the only thing that gave her hope.

Peggy set her watch back on her wrist, covering up the lines. Only a handful of people knew of the mark, and she liked to keep it that way. Less questions, less concerned gazes. She sighed, turning the tap onto hot and splashing the water over her face.

She never used cold. She hated the cold.

Since the day he went down she felt like she was always cold, like her spine was made of ice. She’d gotten used to it after decades of layering her clothes and keeping her home unnaturally warm.

She looked at herself in the mirror again as she toweled the water away. It had been years since she’d taken the time to think, truly think, about being soul bonded.

She avoided it with all her might. It only led to heartache and tears, brooding over a lost lifetime of love and the mysteries of her unchanging body.

~*~ July 1945

Peggy huddled in the cabin of the ship, two jackets and a mound of blankets wrapped around her. “Howard, this is beastly.”

Howard shook his head, pouring over navigation charts as they made their way through the chilled northern seas. “Peg, you shouldn’t be this cold. I’m telling you; this is a clue.”

She pulled her collar up higher. “And I’m telling you, it’s not. We’ve been out here for two months, don’t you think we’d have found something by now?”

Howard moved over to her, pulling her arm from her swaddle and pushed up the sleeve to her jacket, pointing to her mark. “That’s not nothing, Peg. You should be dead.” He moved the sleeve down and tucked her back up tight in the cabin’s bed. “You’re not dead, so neither is he.”

Peggy tugged her arms from the nest of blankets and grabbed him as he started to turn back to the charts. “Howard, I’m begging you, take me home.”

“Peg—”

“Don’t you think I want to find him?” She cried out. “Of course, I do! But it’s been months, Howard, months! And not a single sign of him. Not one!” She shook her head, tears collecting in her lashes. “Two days was all we had, Howard. Those couples you keep talking about- they were bonded for years, decades even. Two days, Howard.” She swallowed hard, eyes pressed closed tight. “What if it wasn’t complete? What if we didn’t bond all the way before he was killed?”

Howard looked at her, his heart breaking. “I want to find him for ya, Peg. We just gotta.”

Peggy shook her head, unable to look at her friend as her voice cracked. “And I need to find a way to let him go.”

~*~ May 2011

Peggy watched Morgan from the door of the guest bedroom. The Stark Tower was quiet these days, and she liked it that way. It was easier to confer with DC and Fury from the tower, but she missed her little house in southern California where she always managed to feel generally warm enough.

Long ago she’d categorized the cold as the ever-present emptiness of her heart without Steve in it. It had become a part of her, and she embraced it with fluffy sweaters that she could wrap tight around herself and pretend it was his arms trying to banish the chill.

A few times she’d tried to date, but it never stuck.

They were never Steve, and any time she saw the mark on her wrist she was reminded that she had true and tangible confirmation that Steve had been the perfect man for her.

Instead, she sank herself into her work and the lives of her friends.

She’d babysat Tony often enough when he was a child to see how much of him was in Morgan, and she’d lived long enough to mourn Howard and Maria and Jarvis and Ana and all of the Commandos when each had passed on.

It had been hard to watch them age past her while not a single thing about her changed.

Howard had tried, many times, to convince her to start looking for him again.

A few times he had. They’d commissioned ships and sonar and even submarines. Every time there was a new development in science it seemed Howard was adapting it and chartering a boat or a plane.

Every time she only ended up cold and depressed, worse off than when she’d left. The last expedition had been in 1990. The repurposed naval vessel had technology she could barely understand on it, monitors and computers pouring out data she couldn’t read, data that left Howard jumping back and forth, excited and with a renewed purpose.

They’d come back to re-stock and refuel, to let Howard spend some time with his family before they went back out. Howard was so sure of himself that time. She’d almost, almost started to feel hopeful they could find his body and put him to rest.

Then suddenly she was without Howard, and the losses were far too many and far too heavy for her to hope anymore.

Morgan sniffled softly in her sleep and rolled over, flinging her arm over the edge of her bed. The one bright spot had been Tony. For all his faults, all his frustrating traits and the way he and his father butted heads, he’d been a joy for her. Being able to focus on him after Howard and Maria’s death, having someone who needed her and kept her grounded, was the lifeline she needed.

Tony’s two am calls because he couldn’t sleep kept her from curling in on herself. Keeping SHIELD up and running gave her a purpose.

It didn’t make the nights any less lonely or the days any less long, but it was enough for a while. Purpose became routine became some semblance of a life that she actually found herself caring about.

Just like she cared about the little girl in the bed, slumbering away, unaware of the threats Peggy helped monitor and mitigate day after day, unaware that her simple question about the world had sent her honorary Great Aunt into a spiral of doubt and loneliness.

Peggy closed the door, stepping away. Morgan was asleep for the night, and probably wouldn’t wake up again, leaving it safe for Peggy to indulge a bit. “Jarvis?” she called, the pang of pain at the AI’s name just a little sharper tonight.

“Yes, Miss Carter?”

She moved slowly through the hallway, stopping at the small storage closet. “I’d very much like to not be disturbed under any circumstances.”

“Yes, Miss Carter.”

She rested her hand on the wooden door, tapping her perfectly red, perfectly manicured nails on the surface. She listened to the sound they made in the quiet apartment, echoing through the floor of the tower as she tried to make up her mind.

Before she could stop herself, she turned the handle and opened the closet.

The dry-cleaning bags rustled like ghosts, the memories they protected hidden and hung in the closet until she was ready to wallow in them. She ran her hand along the row of plastic covered cloth, eyes closed, knowing by memory the order of each thing in here. His dress uniform, hers, the red dress she’d worn that one day, his USO costume… Her hand stopped on her favorite: she lifted out the leather jacket, the bag crinkling under her hand.

It had lost the spicy scent of his skin decades ago, but that didn’t stop her from pulling it out when she was feeling her worst, when she needed to remember Steve over Captain America, when she needed the man and not the legend. She pulled the brown leather from the plastic, letting the metal hanger clamor to the floor as she slipped it on, hugging it close around her body.

She breathed in, and even though she knew it wasn’t there, she could remember how he’d smelled, could remember the warm scent of him fresh from the showers, the tang of the army soap on his skin. Her senses assaulted her with more detail than she’d remembered in decades: the flash of his blue eyes when he smiled, the way the stubble would grow in when they were out in the field too long, how his hand felt when he’d reach out to help her over rough terrain…  Peggy took a shuddering breath as she reached for the box on the top shelf.

Tonight, it seemed, was going to be more painful than most.

~*~

Tony waited until he was on the elevator, Pepper leaning dreamily into his side, to speak. “Update, Jarvis?”

“Quiet evening, sir. Nothing requiring immediate attention.”

Tony smiled, wrapping his arm tighter around Pepper. “And the girls?”

“Miss Morgan is sound asleep in Miss Carter’s guest room.”

Tony waited, but more was not forthcoming. “And Aunt Peggy?”

The AI hesitated. “She’s having a…bad night.”

Tony sighed, rubbing Pepper’s shoulder. “You should…” she started, but she didn’t have to finish.

He nodded, stepping away from her. “You put Morgan to bed, I’ll put Aunt Peg to bed.”

~*~

She knew he was standing in the doorway, but she couldn’t find the energy to seem to mind. Instead, she snuggled deeper into the armchair, taking a swig of the whisky she’d only been sipping up until now. If Tony was home that meant she was off babysitting duty.

“What did it this time?” he asked casually, leaning against the doorjamb.

She didn’t speak at first, not sure she trusted her voice. She turned the page of the scrapbook in her lap, running her fingers over yellowed newspaper clippings touting another win by Captain America. She took another deep swig and spoke, her voice hoarse from the tears. “Morgan asked me about soulmates.”

“Shit,” Tony mumbled, hanging his head. “I’m—”

Peggy cut him off, shaking her head vigorously. “She didn’t know- didn’t mean to—” her voice caught and she swallowed the sob, sitting taller. “Haven’t had a good wallow in a while, figured it was time.”

Tony stepped forward, sitting himself on the edge of the ottoman at her feet. “Last time I saw you in his jacket was…” He shrugged, reaching out and putting a hand on her leg. “Years ago, Aunt Peg.”

“Happens,” she muttered, offering him her tumbler.

He shook his head, watching as she took another deep pull of the amber liquid. He sighed, then asked the question he’d been meaning to ask for years. “You can’t get drunk, can you?”

Her eyes shifted to him, trying to decide how much she wanted to say, but quickly shifted back as she took another long drink. “No.” The word was stilted, harsh. “I don’t think my metabolism runs quite as fast as his, but I can’t get much more than a good buzz going no matter how hard I try.”

“You know, Thor has this stuff…”

“Unless you can get your hands on it tonight, I have no interest.” She sat up, slamming the book in her lap shut. “I’m giving myself one good pity party and tomorrow morning it’s back to life as usual.”

He frowned, letting his elbows rest on his knees. “What? Work all day and night? We’ve had this conversation before.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands, turning his wedding band. “That’s not a life.”

“And since we’ve had this conversation before,” she started, taking a deep breath and throwing her head back on the cushion, “you’ll know exactly how I feel about it. Life does not begin and end with romantic relationships. I have my work, I have my family…”

“And what do you do on the weekends, hum?” He rubbed his hands together, eyes finding her. “What about friends? What about going out to a movie or playing pinochle or shopping?”

“I’ve been hiding for nearly fifty years, Tony. I don’t want to share my life with the world, don’t want to be the subject of the next big soulmate documentary on Netflix, thankyouverymuch. And the only way to do that? Stay inside. Run SHIELD from the shadows through Fury. Stay fucking hidden.” She popped her head up, looking him dead in the eyes, a fierce fire permeating her whole body. “I haven’t changed a day since 1945. I haven’t gotten a cold, haven’t gotten a wrinkle… not even so much as a scar or a grey hair. I haven’t even had to cut my hair.” The tears she’d been holding back finally came, flowing down her cheeks without fanfare as she began to get more intense. “I’ve watched everyone I love grow old and die without me, Tony.” Her breath caught and he tried to reach out, but she batted his hand away. “I’ve watched you grow from an infant until you look older than I am though I’m twice your age, and one day I will have to sit by your bedside and watch you leave this world without me, too.” Her intensity grew, the words coming faster and harsher as she stood, the photo album tumbling to the floor, her whisky glass waving frantically in her hand. “So, I stay home and I pretend and I try to forget. I try to forget that one day, everyone I love in the world will be gone and I will be left here, alone, with only newspaper clippings and old photographs to show for it. So, forgive me if I get a little maudlin once every decade or so.”

She moved past him in a huff, leaning heavily on the hutch where the bottle of whisky was waiting for her. Tony watched as she composed herself, pouring another drink.

He licked his lips and stood, voice soft. “I know that I will never, ever understand what you’ve gone through—”

“Damn right,” she mumbled, hands flat on the table.

“But I am still your family, like it or not.” Tony moved towards her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Even if Dad hadn’t asked me to watch out for you, I’d still be here. I’d still want you here. I’d still want you with us, for as long as you can be.”

Peggy reached up, laying her hand on his, but still not looking at him. “Thank you,” she said softly, “It’s hard to remember these things some times.”

~*~ March 1945 The Next Day

He cradled her between his legs, arms wrapped around her, chin on her shoulder. He could feel her heartbeat reverberating through her back and his chest, spooned together as they were on the ground behind the mess, leaning against an ancient pine tree. It wasn’t a large space to hide in, but the constant noise of the mess covered their talking, and Steve was fairly certain no one else knew the little nook existed.

He held his arm out next to hers, both pairs of eyes examining the marks they’d managed to keep hidden for the past day. “What do you think it means?” he asked softly.

“Infinity?” She thought out loud, turning her hand to run her fingertips over the lines on his wrist. “Always?”

He flexed his fingers, her touch just a little too light so that it tickled. He laced his fingers in hers, wrapping their arms around her. “I don’t… I can’t remember if it’s supposed to be literal.”

She shrugged in his arms, laying back into his embrace. “My Nan and Pop’s was an apple. They had their first kiss under an apple tree, or so my Mother said.” She turned her head, warming her chilled nose against his neck. “I’ve always remembered thinking that it had to have something to do with the people.”

He shifted gently, cautiously kissing her temple. He felt her smile against his neck. “Do you feel any different?” He felt her shake her head against him, her negative hum reverberating through both of their chests. He sighed. “Can’t lie. If you got some of my enhancements… if I knew you would be a little safer out there…” He sighed, only a little disappointed. “Well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” she murmured, leaning away so she could look at him. She smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss him. “Something nice, though,” she murmured against his lips, “about knowing that this is more than just war and fear and hormones.”

He nodded, kissing her again, his lips soft and chaste on her own. “Love,” he pulled her tight to him again. “I think I’ve always loved you, Peggy Carter.”

Her smile grew slowly until it nearly blinded him. “And I quite love you, Steve Rogers.” They sat in silence, enjoying the comfort of the embrace and letting their breaths sync softly.

“You know,” Peggy started, her voice soft and full of mirth, “One of the requirements to be picked for Project Rebirth was that you had no significant other and absolutely no soul mark. Phillips is going to have a shit fit when he finds out.”

“Language,” he teased, squeezing her tight.

Peggy laughed fully at that, turning and kissing his cheek. “Captain, even if you were scandalized at my language, which I know you’re not, it’s too late now.” She moved her hand, letting her fingers wrap possessively around his wrist. “You’re stuck with me.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

~*~ May 2011 The Next Day

She didn’t have a hangover, though she should have.

What Peggy did have was the sadness and regret in the knowledge that she’d managed to drink the very end of the last bottle of whisky Dugan had ever given her.

One more “last” to add to the list. One more relic to add to the closet.

Tony had stayed for a while, tried to talk her out of her stupor, but after she saw Pepper pass by with a bundled Morgan in her arms, Peggy had physically pushed him into the elevator, arguing that she needed to be alone.

It had probably been the last thing she needed, and they both knew that, but he indulged her.

She’d woken up on the floor of the study, wrapped in Steve’s jacket and eyes puffy from crying herself to sleep, at 3AM. Instead of trying to get back to sleep, she started cleaning up, reverently placing each item back in its place in her shrine of a closet, locking away the memories until the day would come where they broke through again like water breaking a dam.

By mid-morning, Peggy was refocused and deep into SHIELD intelligence. She paced her office while talking to Fury, had a holographic meeting with Coulson, and sent Hill a scathing e-mail once she’d gotten her hands on the latest mission reports.

Not too bad for a woman most people assumed dead. It had worked to her advantage that after a certain amount of time, spies tended to just disappear. There had been questions at first, but Fury was a convincing man when he wanted someone to believe something, and he’d made the world believe that Peggy Carter was dead.

She hadn’t been lying to Tony last night: she had no desire to be in the public eye, to answer more questions than those she already had about her appearance, to be the lonely widow of a war hero who should have died with him the day he sacrificed his life.

Hiding was simply easier.

What she hadn’t said out loud, hadn’t told Tony or Fury or even Howard once upon a time, was that on her lowest night somewhere around 1952, she’d taken an entire bottle of painkillers chased with vodka and waited to fall into the oblivion.

The oblivion never came.

Neither did sleep or even inebriation.

She laid there for hours, nursing a headache and a slight buzz, and cried. The universe was cruel, and gave her no recourse.

After that, she’d slowly, carefully, started to test her limits. They were higher than she’d ever imagined. Higher than she ever let on to anyone else. Howard had often suspected, and Tony flat out asked occasionally, but she’d never said out loud that she’d slowly, over time, gained a level of strength and agility only ever seen in one person.

She hoped, somewhere, he was happy knowing she was somehow safer.

She hoped, one day, she’d be allowed the sweet repose he’d been given.

Peggy sat at her desk, head in her hands. The memories crashed over her like waves, thoughts of love and loss and a lifetime of missing him hit her in a way it hadn’t last night. The frailty of the illusion she ran… the dependency she had on other people to keep her secret... The loss of friendship that she tried so often to ignore… it was suddenly too heavy for her to carry on her own, and she had no one she’d even consider sharing the burden with.

She felt the abyss pulling, an old familiar friend that she’d managed to fend off for years.

Peggy texted her team then shut off all of her electronics. She needed to be alone.  

~*~

She’d lived so long she’d stopped feeling bad about days spent solely in bed decades ago. Sometimes she needed that break from people and duty and modernity. Sometimes she just wanted to be alone with a blanket and a book and not have to think about the fate of the world.

She layered up in soft flannel and buried herself under her blankets, a nap the first thing she hoped to achieve.

~*~

She wasn’t sure when, or how, she’d managed it, but when she woke up her pants were on the floor next to her bed. She moved her legs, content that she felt warm enough under the layers of blankets, and rolled over, reaching for the book on her bedside table.

~*~

Peggy had dozed off again, the book barely in her hand. Half awake, she shoved the book next to her and she kicked off the blankets by instinct, curling onto her side. It took a moment before she turned and looked down at her bare legs, down at the blanket she’d kicked off her bed, before she realized something very, very strange.

She felt warm.

Inside and out.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laid with her legs bare for any period of time, the last time she’d felt warm enough to go anywhere without layers upon layers over her skin.

“Jarvis,” she called, knowing the AI always listened for his name, no matter what privacy settings she had on, “Please get Mr. Stark.”

“Mr. Stark is currently in a meeting, Miss Carter,” The AI informed her as her breathing started to quicken. She could feel the warmth through her fingers and toes, a sensation that was so foreign it was almost painful. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Please interrupt him,” she ordered calmly as she stripped her top layer of shirts from her body, sweat starting to gather at the back of her neck, “I think I’m dying.”

~*~

Tony sat at his desk, Banner across from him, with the holo-screen between them showing the faces of three other scientists on the conference call. “You’re telling me you think that’ll work?”

Doctor Helen Cho smiled over the connection. “I do, there’s no reason to believe there’s been any damage based on the scans they’ve sent over.”

Tony leaned on his elbows, looking through the holograph. “Bruce?”

Doctor Banner shrugged, leaning back. “She’s right, I don’t see why—”

The projection was paused and they were interrupted by Jarvis. “Sir—”

“Jarvis! I told you—”

“Miss Carter insisted. She seems to think she’s dying.”

Tony stared at Bruce for just the barest of moments before he was on his feet. “Jarvis, give my regards and end the call. Banner!”

Bruce was positively flummoxed as he stood and followed Tony through the office, out to the elevator, and barely waited for him to step in before he was rambling. “Jesus, if she’s dying now- now! Of all times! Dammed inconvenient.” Tony looked up at the ceiling. “Jarvis, get Doctor Cho on stand-by. No, warm up the ‘copter.” He turned back to Bruce, eyes wide. “We’ll have to monitor her vitals, get her to the med bay on level 15. Maybe even take her to Cho. Can you tell if someone’s dying?”

“Tony, Tony Tony…” Bruce grabbed at his shoulder, trying to slow him down. “I’m not that kind of doctor.”

Tony moved them both out of the elevator as the doors opened, trotting through Peggy’s apartment towards her bedroom door. “Actually- you’re the perfect guy for this.” He stopped at the door, knocking even though it was partially open. “Aunt Peggy?”

He could hear her labored breathing. “Something’s wrong, I think I’m dying.”

“But are you decent? I brought a friend.” Tony looked at Banner, jaw tight.

She grumbled, her irritation loud enough to hear through the door. “Near enough,” Peggy barked out, and that was adequate for Tony to barge in.

She was laying in the dark, in the center of the bed, sweat pooling on her forehead, and one hand taking the pulse at her other wrist. “Aunt Peg?”

Banner looked away initially, hands wringing in front of him. She was wearing only a camisole and underwear, the rest of her clothes littered the floor around the bed along with the blankets she’d kicked off. “That’s your aunt?”

“Looks good for ninety-one, doesn’t she?” He asked, sliding to her side and taking her hand. “Jarvis? Run what you can from here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Banner stepped up to the bed, stuttering as he tried to keep his eyes on Tony. “Nin- Ninety-one?”

Her eyes squeezed shut tight. “I’m feeling every bit of it now.”

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked, holding her hand tight.

“Heart is pounding. And I’m hot,” she whispered, blinking her eyes open at him. “I’m so hot.”

Tony rolled his eyes, trying to hide his fear with humor. “I mean, you’re pretty good looking for a nonagenarian, but I don’t know if—” Though it was weak, her hand hit him firmly on the cheek, stopping his teasing. “Right. Deserved that.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, you did.”

“Sir?” Jarvis broke in.

“Hit me,” Tony said, looking over at Bruce.

“Miss Carter is displaying an elevated heart rate, increased blood pressure, a normal blood oxygen level, and a body temperature of 98.7.”

“98.7? That’s correct Jarvis?” Tony’s eyes widened.

“Yes, sir.”

“Compare that to Dad’s notes?” Tony asked, turning back. “Aunt Peg, you’re not dying.” He smiled until it nearly split his face. “Shit, this is amazing.”

“I feel like I’m dying,” she moaned, rolling towards him and pressing her head into the pillow.

Tony turned to the man who was still attempting to avoid looking at Peggy as she writhed in the bed. “Banner, grab her other hand and get me an actual pulse, will you?”

Bruce side-eyed him, but moved anyway. “Tony, I already told you—”

“You know how to take a pulse, right?” Tony looked at him, waiting. “It’s important.”

“Sir?” Jarvis’ calm voice once again broke in.

Tony smiled at Peggy. “Body temp, Jarvis?”

“Miss Carter’s body temperature over several decades, according to Howard Stark’s notes, averaged 96.5 degrees.”

Bruce stopped counting and looked up. “That can’t be right- she’d be borderline hypothermic.”

“Your damn father,” Peggy cursed, still breathing heavy. “Monitoring me without my consent.”

“Yup. You can yell at him when you see him, which, apparently, won’t be for a while.” He looked back at Banner. “Pulse?”

Bruce shook his head, trying to keep Peggy’s slick hand in his. “About 112, give or take. It’s a little erratic.”

Tony couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Jarvis, what was Aunt Peg’s average heart rate?”

“If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him,” Peggy murmured.

“Miss Carter has never reached a heart rate higher than sixty-eight beats per minute, even when exercising, since 1945.”

Tony laughed out loud. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe she can feel it. Ha!” He looked back down at Peggy, her expression tight with pain but still trained on him, concerned at his reaction.

Peggy fought to control her breathing. “Feel what, Tony?”

“Your hands are warm, Aunt Peg,” he whispered in wonderment, holding her hand in both of his. “Ever since I was little, I just remember you always had the coldest hands. They were always like ice. And now they’re warm.”

Tony looked back up at Bruce, his mania taking over again. “Remember, like fifteen minutes ago, when I said there was an extenuating circumstance?”

“Yeah,” Bruce started, weary and unsure how the two situations were related. “But you wouldn’t say what it was.”

Tony nodded. “Didn’t want to tip my hand. Aunt Peg likes to play this close to the vest.” Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “You have to promise that you’re in this, now. You’re part of the secret. You don’t tell unless she says you can tell.”

“Tell what?” Bruce asked, slightly paranoid and frustrated. “The key to the fountain of youth?”

Tony, for once, wasn’t in the mood for joking. “Promise first, or I’m kicking you out and you’re off of all of it.” He looked at him sternly, “ALL of it.”  

Bruce threw up his hands. “Fine. I’m in. You wanted me on this, I’m in.”

Tony held up Peggy’s hand, slowly unwrapping his fingers from her wrist, face deathly serious.

Bruce shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “She’s got a tattoo. You trying to tell me tattooing the infinity symbol on you will keep you looking young?”

Tony smiled slowly. “Not a tattoo.”

Peggy caught on before Bruce did, pushing herself to sitting, holding Tony’s hand tight. “What’s happened?”

He chuckled, truly happy. “They’ve found him. In the ice. Dad was right. Off by about a hundred miles, but right.”

Peggy’s face morphed quickly from disbelief and happiness to abject horror as she started to cry.

“Peg? Peg!” Tony pulled her into his arms, sitting on the bed, hands a little unsure of what to do as she wept into his chest. “What…?”

She caught her breath, looking up at him. “I am going to die!”

“No, no!” He caught her as she collapsed into him again. “Aunt Peg, no, you’re not going to die!”

Bruce leaned over, trying to help his friend who was completely inept with the hysterical woman. “Tony, you can’t promise her that, we don’t know what’s wrong with her yet.”

Tony shook his head at the man, concerned that someone so smart could be so thick. “I can. I can because you just told me, and Doctor Cho just told me, that you’re not going to have any problems defrosting him.”

“Tony that…” Bruce stopped, eyes wide. “That’s not a tattoo, is it?” Tony shook his head, still holding Peggy as she cried. “That’s a soul mark?” Bruce asked, incredulous. Tony nodded. “That’s a soul mark!”

Bruce started pacing, hand at his forehead. “Wait- you’re telling me that Steve Rogers- Captain Freaking America- had- has- a soul mark and no one knew?” Bruce stopped and then threw up his hands. “No, wait- forget that. You’re telling me that she- Aunt Peggy here- is his soul mate and what? Hasn’t changed in almost seventy years?” Bruce laughed. “This is- this is…”

“You promised!” Tony nearly yelled, Peggy still on his shoulder. “You promised. Until she tells you, you say nothing.”

Bruce waved his hands and held them up. “Scout’s honor.” He slowly lowered them, smiling a little. “What do we do now?”

Tony slowly grinned and leaned back, waiting for Peggy to look at him, her hands wiping at her eyes. “Want to go see him?”

She nodded, sniffling. “How fast can we be there?”

~*~

Every once in a while, Tony would lean over and take her wrist in his, taking her pulse and feeling her forehead and overall making a nuisance of himself despite the fact she had a shiny gold bracelet of nanotech that he’d slapped on her wrist before they’d left the tower that was monitoring her vitals much more accurately.

Every inch of her felt like it was on fire. She’d put on her lightest pair of linen pants and a tank top she’d usually layer under sweaters. On her way out she’d grabbed a shawl, throwing it over her shoulders. Despite the sweat pouring down between her shoulder blades, she felt like she was naked. Peggy pulled the light shawl closer around her shoulders as she slapped Tony’s hand away again. “Hands to yourself, please.”

He laughed lightly, sitting back in the plush chair of the private jet. “You haven’t scolded me like that—”

“Since yesterday,” she interrupted.

He rolled his eyes. “Since I was a kid.”

Peggy swiped at the sweat on her forehead, sighing heavily. “How long until I don’t feel like I’m jumping out of my skin?”

Bruce looked between them and then back down at the tablet he held that was supplying him with her biometric data. “How long did it take for the cold feeling to feel normal?”

“Back in ’45?” Peggy asked, shaking her head. “I was so numb already I couldn’t tell you. Months… years, maybe before I really got used to it.”

“We’ll invest in Ladies Speed Stick,” Tony attempted to joke, but it fell flat at her tight look. “Look- this is all an unknown.”

“You don’t even know if you can—” she stopped speaking abruptly, her voice choking off at the idea of them not being able to bring Steve back.

“No, we do know,” Tony assured. “They’re at Thule right now with the best scientists in the world either there, headed there, or videoconferencing in.” Peggy looked between Tony and Bruce, both men looking at her seriously. “There are… potential problems. Complications. And we’ll talk about them as they come up. But right now? Every. Single. One. Says things are looking good, alright?”

Peggy nodded, looking down at her hands. She didn’t know how to say out loud everything that she felt, and instead tried to focus on her pounding heart, quicker and more vibrant in her chest than she’d felt in a lifetime.

~*~

They wouldn’t let her in. She could see, through the glass of the observation room, just the faintest outline of his face past the layers of doctors.

They’d let Mr. Banner in… Doctor Banner, she corrected her thoughts, and tried to read their lips. The sound was muffled, tinny, and the tears in her eyes blurred everything.

Tony was behind her somewhere, talking as fast as she’d ever heard him speak with another of the doctors, talking about things she didn’t understand and at the moment didn’t care to.

All she cared about was that she could see his face. She pressed her hand against the glass, eyes tight, seeking out his face every time a doctor moved or shifted. Even if it was just the barest hint of profile over the edge of the bed and around all of the people and the monitoring equipment, she could see his face, and for the first time in sixty-odd years, she felt something akin to hope.

~*~

Tony was pacing across from her. They’d moved on to another naval hospital, their helicopter flight while they transported him the longest she’d been out of sight of his body for hours. They were somewhere closer to the states, something with a name she couldn’t remember. She didn’t care to remember it, didn’t care for much at the moment except finishing the food in front of her so Tony would let her go back to his bedside.

“It’s absolutely astounding!” He was bouncing around the room, going on about the same hour-long cat nap as she was that they both caught when they transferred hospitals. “His heart rate is slowly syncing to yours. And it’s been increasing exponentially since you arrived.”

She chewed, not tasting the dry turkey in the sandwich, not caring that there was a mayo packet right next to her that she could use, not caring that the bottle of iced tea he brought her tasted like plastic and was sickly sweet. She shoved the last of the sandwich in her mouth and stood, eyebrows up as she chewed.

Tony just sighed. “Jesus Christ, will you at least swallow, woman?” He shook his head and tilted it towards the door, signaling that he’d finally take her back to Steve. “It’d be such a damn shame if you choked, you two manage to survive almost seventy years on ice only to have your cause of death be a pre-packaged sandwich.”

~*~

She sniffed as the door closed, trying to hold back the flood of emotion that welled in her throat. He was in his own room, now, and they were monitoring him from next door. They were alone, as alone as they’d been in a lifetime.

Peggy stepped closer, slowly, afraid to break the spell. It all still seemed unreal, and the heavy thudding of her heart in her chest made her anxious.

She hadn’t realized how alone, how lost she’d felt for so long, until he was right there in front of her. It felt like a drug pumping through her veins.

Her soul mark itched. She wondered if it was just her own mind making her feel something or if it was truly something in their bond. She scratched at it, but gave up when there was no relief from the sensation.

She stopped moving once she was at his bedside, fingers drifting down to run over the linens next to his hand while her fist clutched tightly at the shawl around her shoulders. They were slowly warming him, something they’d tried to explain to her more than once, but she couldn’t focus on the science, couldn’t focus on anything except that he was here and everything, everything, was going to change for her.

She gently slid her fingers over the back of his hand. “You’re cold,” she whispered, slightly amazed. “I can’t remember the last time someone felt cold to me.” She laughed a little, the sound manic and haunting, her hope and sanity balanced on a thin edge.

She let them move up to his wrist, then back down over the chilled skin. It felt so foreign yet so familiar. She pulled her hand to a fist and stepped back, afraid she’d be tempted to do something that might hurt his chances of recovery.

“I wish I could say you looked good…” she shook her head, wondering if he could hear her. The doctors said she needed to be very careful, things were still too cold, too rigid, to consider him out of the woods or even safe to move all that much. His skin had a blue tinge to its pallor, sullen and sunken in a way that made her have to close her eyes to shut out the image of him sinking in the ocean, cold and afraid and alone. They hadn’t taken him out of his suit: it clung to him on the bed like a second skin in a way it had never looked on him in her memory.

She smiled, sniffing again and wiping the back of her hand across her nose. “Who am I kidding? You’re the best thing I’ve seen in almost seventy years.”

She dragged the plastic chair over to his bedside, sitting slowly. She couldn’t see a rise or fall in his chest, but the monitors at his bedside assured her his heart was beating, albeit far too slowly, and he was, somehow, managing to breathe on his own.

“There’s so much to tell you,” she whispered, clutching at the shawl around her shoulders. She needed to do something with her hands, they itched to touch his skin again. “I don’t even know where to start. I suppose I should start right when… right…” Her voice stumbled over the words, heavy with emotion until she couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears came, hot as they fell down her cheeks. She fought the sobs that wanted to break loose, knowing they were being watched.

She hated showing other people her weaknesses, and this had been her only soft spot for so, so long.

~*~

Peggy awoke with a start to Tony tapping her on the shoulder. “Aunt Peg?”

She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep, but nearly fell from the small plastic chair as she woke up. She’d slid down into it, her leg wedged against Steve’s hospital bed the only thing keeping her from sliding to the ground.

“Upsey daisy,” Tony sang as he helped her stumble to her feet. He gestured to the door where there was an orderly standing by a plush chair. “Got you something a little more comfortable. Figured you wouldn’t be that keen on going anywhere just yet.”

She watched numbly as Tony moved the plastic chair out of the way and helped the orderly move what almost looked like a cushioned armchair next to the bed. He stared at her expectantly as the orderly left with the plastic chair. He swept his arm out towards it when she didn’t move. “You, uh, wanna try it out?”

Peggy scrubbed at her face and forced a smile, sitting down into it. “It’s an improvement. Thank you, Tony.”

He chewed on his lip, watching her readjust her shawl. “I was, uh… I was going to go back to New York, check on the girls, maybe get some clothes.”

Peggy nodded, humming in agreement.

He watched her for a long moment before he knelt at the side of her chair. “Ok, I’m not even going to bother asking if you’re alright, because I know you’re not.” He took her hand in both of his, waiting until her eyes were on him and somewhat clear. “I’ve seen just about every side of you, Aunt Peggy, but I’ve never seen you so quiet. So… lost. How worried do I need to be?”

Peggy took a deep breath, settling her free hand on her honorary nephew’s shoulder. “Go home to Pepper. To Morgan.” She squeezed gently. “I suppose…” she shook her head, a small smile coming over her face, “I suppose you don’t need to worry about me any more than you do any other day.”

Tony smiled, a small smirk that grew the more he thought about her words. He stood with a groan, humor in his voice. “You know, that’s not really all that reassuring.” He took a few steps and turned back. “I’ll have Pepper pack you a bag, too.” He started to leave then stopped once again, stepping back to put his hand on her shoulder. “Just a few hours, ok? Don’t… Don’t go anywhere.”

~*~

The chair was infinitely more comfortable, and much easier to sleep in. The hours passed, blending into and passing through one another into days and weeks. The lights in the room stayed on, food was put in front of her, doctors and nurses came and went, and slowly the blue tinge warmed to white, then pink.

She changed clothes in the tiny bathroom when they came to run tests, but her shawl was ever present in her hands, something to keep them busy from reaching out. She clutched at it when they came to change the bedsheets, carefully rolling him side to side, moving the cotton drenched with the melting ice that kept his suit plastered to his skin away and replacing it with fresh, dry linen.

They could have changed it once a day or once an hour. Time had held little power over her since the day the infinity symbol appeared on her wrist, and since the moment she laid eyes on Steve, his body real and in front of her once again, the ticking of the clock had ceased to have any meaning.

She said little, sitting at his side as he slowly warmed, the ice dripping puddles from the fabric of his uniform, his hair dampening then drying as they slowly raised the temperature in the room over the days that she sat there.

She grew bold, holding his hand. Time was counted by how his hand warmed against hers, how it softened and molded in her grip.

She brushed his hair back from his forehead, finally dry, soft and flowing under her fingers. His forehead still cool, but warming under her touch. She whispered to him, soft enough she pretended no one could hear, recalling in vivid detail every last memory she had of him.

Hours started to pass by the tiny puffs of breath that escaped from his lips; slow, shallow, but enough to start to move his chest under the red, white, and blue there. She shifted her chair closer, laying her head on the pillow next to his, holding his hand tight and watching for the movement of each breath.

Her days passed, both longer and shorter than they’d ever felt, in a blur of whispered memories as she sat watch, falling in and out of dreamless sleep.

~*~

“She hasn’t left his bedside in almost two weeks…” Tony mumbled, sitting across the desk from Banner.

The scientist didn’t even look up, just kept typing away. “You’re worrying too much.”

“It’s been two weeks.”

“It’s been seventy years.” Banner finally looked up and pulled off his glasses. “And based on the biometric data, they’re both perfectly healthy.”

Tony stared at his friend, unhappy. “Physically.”

“What?” Banner leaned back, running his hand over his head nervously. “You think anyone in their position is going to be healthy mentally?” He laughed heartily and sat back up. “Tony- he’s gonna wake up and find out the world moved on without him. She lived her life without him. And for Peggy… all of a sudden after being alone for so long she’s got a built-in boyfriend who is going to have to depend on her for everything.” He shook his head sadly. “They’re going to be a mess.”

Tony picked up a pen from the desk and fidgeted, looking down. “Not everything,” he mumbled. “Pep and I are already ready to move him in. Round the clock care as long as he needs it. I’m already interviewing tutors to help him keep up with the Kardashians.”

“Tony.” Bruce’s voice didn’t phase the man, and he didn’t look up. He called his name again, and then finally reached over the desk and pulled the pen out of his hands. “Tony. You can’t just—”

“Just what?” Tony accused, standing and pacing.

Bruce stood, stopping his friend. “You can’t just pretend that you haven’t lived in this man’s shadow your whole life. That picking up the mantle looking for him wasn’t a huge psychological mind-fuck you inherited from your Dad.” Bruce sighed, hands thrown wide. “You can’t pretend this isn’t effecting you.”

“I’m not,” he answered too quickly. “I’m not. But however much it’s affecting me, it’s hitting her worse. Far worse.” His eyes went wide and he started to open his mouth to ramble, but stopped himself, deflating. “She was a second mother to me, Bruce.” His lips cracked a smile for just a second. “When we didn’t have anything else, we had each other. She watched Dad and Mom and me get everything she ever wanted, and as happy as she always was for me, there’s just always this sadness in her eyes- it was always there, Bruce. No matter what.”

“And this isn’t going to magically change anything.” Bruce shook his head, reaching out to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Him waking up like Sleeping Beauty doesn’t change the trauma that she went through. That you went through.”

Tony let his head hang. When he looked back up at Bruce, there were tears in his eyes. “I just want to see her smile again. I feel like I haven’t seen her smile in years.”

~*~

Peggy shooed the nurse away, knowing she was being irrational, knowing the tantrum hadn’t helped how those around her were viewing her mental health.

She’d had very little sanity left when she’d arrived, she supposed whatever thread she was hanging on to was more than justified at this point.

She waited until the door clicked closed behind the nurse and pushed the cart towards the bed.

He’d been bone dry for days now, and they’d decided his internal temperature was high enough to move him and finally strip him of his uniform.

She’d let that nurse do it over her dead body.

With a deep breath she sat on the bed and ran a hand carefully down his chest. It rose and fell steadily, now, if not still a little slow.

She knew exactly where the buttons and zippers were hidden, and slid her hand along the first seam until she found the snap and the zip. She’d had to help him out of this damn outfit in the field more than once to tend to a would or a broken rib. Her mind called up his dirty, sweaty face, bright with excitement and exhaustion, breathing heavy as she tried to help him shimmy out of the top with a single useful arm.

She couldn’t wait to see his smile again. Couldn’t wait to see those eyes flicker to life. She was tired of looking at pictures and trying to recall the life inside him that the camera never seemed to capture.

Peggy tossed the shawl from her shoulders on her chair and moved forward with purpose. It was a struggle, getting the thick material from his body. Peeling it away where the seawater and sweat had suctioned it to his skin.

He was dead weight in her arms as she moved him around, pulling, pushing, and shifting to pull the jacket, then the pants from his body. Once the heavy woven fatigues were gone, she stepped back, breathless, surveying the work she’d done and what was still left.  

The damp and clinging army issue boxers and undershirt he wore, combined with the wrinkled stark white of the skin that had been hidden from the world under his suit for so long, made him somehow look smaller. The bulk of his suit had always complimented his size. But now, in the bed, without it, he was more the man she’d met long before the needles and experiments. Soft. Helpless. Pale.

She’d asked Tony why he hadn’t started growing a beard or gone to the bathroom. He’d made an off-color joke and then said they’d assumed because he was still healing his body wasn’t focusing on things like growing hair and processing waste. It was too occupied trying to keep itself alive.

She ran her fingers down his cheek, soft and smooth, and then over his chest, where the skin was tight and chilled, gooseflesh starting to bubble up all over him. They might have thought him dry, but the suit had been holding water against his skin.

She let her hand move over his arm. His skin had wrinkled under the fabric like a child’s skin after they’d been in the water all day. It was rubbery and thick along his arms, unlike his hands that were soft and dry.

She flipped his wrist over, tracking the black infinity she hadn’t seen in decades. She forgot how his was the same yet slightly different. Bigger. More defined.

She moved her wrist next to his, lining the lines up. Seeing them together after so long sparked a wave of emotion from deep inside her that she couldn’t stop. The sob burst from her lips before she even knew it was happening.

She couldn’t help herself. It was more like an automatic movement: she couldn’t remember making the decision to do it and couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d wanted to. As the tears came, Peggy did the only thing she could think to do, the only thing that she thought would bring her any kind of comfort: she crawled into bed with him, and hung on for dear life to his clammy skin as the emotion poured out of her.

~*~

“I’d hate to step on your—"

An explosion like a bomb and then

…floating and falling all at the same time...

He remembered cold.

Wet

…then…

Sadness

Grief

Overwhelming grief like a wave crashing over him, chilling him to the bone.

And then just cold.

Coldness.

Shivering.

Never ending numbness.

Always and never at the same time.

An Infinity.

Infinity.

It felt like moments and years all at once. Pain. Fear. Happiness. Exhaustion. Dizziness.

Cold.

So Cold.

And then

…Then

Then…

~*~

She woke to the sound of Tony clearing his throat. He smiled at her when she blinked up at him. “I know you’re excited he’s back, but let’s at least wait until he’s conscious jump his bones, ok?”

Peggy looked down, realizing that in her grief and exhaustion she’d managed to wrap herself in and around Steve, even pulling him to his side to cradle her better. He was still gone, still limp in her embrace, his shallow breaths ghosting over his skin only ever so often. Carefully she extracted herself, righting Steve then pulling her shawl over her shoulders as she tried to straighten out her hair.

Tony moved over to the bed, rearranging Steve’s arm and pulling a cotton blanket from the cart the nurse had left, laying it over his scantily clad body. “Guess dad was right: he was quite the specimen.”

Peggy’s face soured. “He was a good—"

“I know, I know.” Tony batted her comment away. “Right now, it’s more his physical resilience that’s keeping him alive, so no matter how good this guy was, you both need to be damn glad that either that serum or that soul bond is doing its job.”

Tony rounded the bed and held out his arm. “Come on. Let’s take a walk. Maybe get a coffee. They’re going to take him for a new CAT scan, and I don’t think you’ve seen the sun in a while.”

Peggy smiled softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before she tucked her hand in the crook of Tony’s arm, the orderlies waiting outside the door to move Steve. “A coffee sounds lovely.”

Peggy pulled him to a stop right outside the door, waiting until Steve was out of sight and through the double doors at the end of the hall before she let Tony start moving again.

Tony couldn’t keep the humor out of his voice. “I’m going to have to call him Uncle Steve, aren’t I?”

Peggy’s smack across his bicep lacked any real force, but he flinched anyway.

~*~

Cold.

Cold and wet and cold and wet and cold and cold and cold and wet

Loud.

So loud.

The sounds of the universe louder in his skull than he’d ever heard them

…Then

Then…

Calm.

Her.

Safe.

~*~

Doctor Cho was a lovely woman who had infuriatingly little to tell her. Peggy sat on the bed by his hip, one hand holding his, the other combing through his messy hair.

The CAT scan had shown almost no abnormalities. His breathing was getting better. His heart rate was up. Doctor Cho had come and gone with the update long since, a whirlwind of nurses right after, and they were back to being alone, left with only each other and the quiet of the room.

They’d inserted an IV and a catheter because he was starting to show regular kidney function, and there was serious discussion as to how they should go about feeding him at this point.

But they didn’t know why he wasn’t conscious. Why he had yet to move on his own. Why he didn’t roll or groan our toss and turn in the bed.

She kept brushing her fingers through his hair, the other hand playing over the mark on his wrist. It was the only explanation for any of it, and though she hadn’t voiced any of it yet, her mind had turned to darker answers for his lack of liveliness.

She was worried he’d come back only in body, but never in mind. Worried there had been more damage than the serum or the mysterious bond of the soul mark could fix. Worried they’d spend the rest of their days in this little hospital, waiting for him to wake up.

Peggy shook the thoughts away. It was hard to keep them at bay sometimes. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t leaving. Not when she’d found him again. Tony had slowly been moving her in to the small room, she now had her own cot and a desk, a laptop and tablet to get back to work at saving the world.

She’d been by his side and absent from the world for almost a whole month. She did still have some responsibilities to tend to, and the monotony of waiting had long since ceased being a novelty.

If she could run SHIELD from the shadows for all those years, this would be no different.

She wasn’t leaving until he got up and walked out with her.

“You’re safe, my darling,” she whispered to him, kissing his cheek softly. “Come back to me when you’re ready.”

~*~

Safe.

Calm.

Warm.

Safe. Safe. Safe safe safesafesafesafe…

A flickering

Warmth

Feeling.

A twitch…

Her voice… like a wave a summer enveloping him.

He felt his heart pound in his chest.

Her breath on his cheek.

“Steve?”

~*~

“Steve?”

His finger twitched.

She’d been holding his hand for so long she’d gotten used to the feeling of his still flesh, pulse beating lightly against her own, without any other movement in the limp muscles.

It had been just the softest tremor of his pointer finger, right over her own, and for a moment she thought she imagined it, even though it had forced his name from her lips and her attention from the report on the tablet in her other hand.

Until it moved again.

Peggy scrambled from her spot on the chair, sitting next to him and pulling his hand to her lap, holding it tight with both hands. “Steve? Can you hear me?”

She tried to pretend her heart wasn’t pounding in her chest, ignored the doctors she could hear gathering at the door behind her. He was breathing harder, with more purpose. It wasn’t the soft breathing of sleep but the breaths of a man just woken from a slumber. His pulse bounced under her fingers as she cupped his cheek, her thumb smoothing away wrinkles as his face started to move, the eyebrows pulling together in the first expression she’d seen on his face since the hallway in the Hydra base.

“Darling?” she whispered, trying to keep the fear and hope out of her voice, trying to keep it steady for him. “Steve?”

He tried to say something, but his mouth was dry and only the faintest croak came from his lips. Peggy bit her lip, trying to hold herself together as his eyes fluttered open.

“Toes…” he croaked out, confused and lost.

Peggy stroked his cheek softly, smiling as her eyes filled with tears. “Toes?”

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, licking his lips and trying to get the cotton feeling out of his mouth before he looked at her again, still lost and so very, very disoriented. “Don’t wanna… step… on your toes.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. It was a bright, happy sound as she fell to him, holding him tight. He’d finished the very last sentence he’d said to her so many, many years ago.

She could feel his arms trying to wrap around her. The muscles, not quite used to moving, were clumsy as they tried to hold her, slipping and uncoordinated and tangling the IV line so that she had to pull away and lay his arm flat and untangle the line before he hurt himself.

“Peg…” She couldn’t tear her eyes from him: the little lines in his forehead as his eyebrows creased together, the life behind his blue eyes, the way his tongue kept flicking over his dry lips. He reached up, his hand still slightly clumsy as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “What…?”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her lips as she took his hand and kissed the palm, then dropped a kiss down at the curve of the infinity on his wrist before she held his hand tight against her chest. “It’s been so long…”

“Can’t have been that long,” he managed to rasp out, smiling up at her. The arm with the IV in it flopped on the bed for a second before landing on her knee, holding tight. “We can keep our date.”

She wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a sob that burst from her lips, but it reignited the tears. “Oh, darling, you’re so very, very late.”

His smile faltered, more from his fatigue than anything. His eyes were already starting to close again. “Peg…”

She almost jumped when the hand touched her shoulder. She turned, startled to find Tony there. “The doctors need to see him,” he whispered. “I tried to convince them to let you stay, but…”

Peggy looked between the two men for a moment, unwilling to leave him.

“I’ll be fine, Peg,” Steve mumbled, eyes fluttering open and closed. “Go with Howard.”

Tony’s eyebrows leapt in surprise, but he didn’t say anything to the man. “Bruce will be here the whole time. Half hour, tops.”

She forced a smile on her face and leaned over, kissing his cheek. “Won’t be but a tic, yeah?”

Steve’s hand fell from hers gently, the muscles already tired from their minor use. He tried to say something, but it fell as a soft puff of breath from his lips, sleep taking him yet again.

Tony guided Peggy out of the room, her eyes on Steve’s form the whole time.

He’d come back to her.

~*~

He held her hand tightly, staring blankly at the wall. “And… you said how long?”

He’d gone in and out of sleep for about a day, managing only a few words at a time, but he was awake now, sitting up and getting stronger by the minute. Peggy found she couldn’t hold off this conversation any longer.

He’d asked about how long it had been three times, still trying to wrap his head around the basics after the story had poured out of her. “About 66 years, give or take a few months.” She didn’t shy away from the answer, even though he didn’t look at her. “I used to be able to say down to the minute how long you’d been gone, but…”

When he turned back to her, there were tears in his eyes. “And that’s not Howard.”

“No. It’s his son, Tony.” She squeezed his hand and shifted from the chair to the edge of the bed, her hand on his thigh. “No one expects you to be able to process this.” She licked her lips and shook her head. “You ask as many questions as you need, and I’ll do my best to get you all caught up.”

Her bravado was forced, and Steve could see right through it. He tipped his head and waited her out, knowing what she wanted to say was close to the surface.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted softly.

“For what?”

She looked anywhere but him. “Howard was the one who wanted to look for you. He spent years and years just searching and I…” She swallowed, hard, and looked Steve right in the eyes. “I was the one who made him stop. Who told him to stop looking for you.” She shook her head madly. “I had all the evidence, right there on my wrist and in my own body, telling us you were alive and yet I still…” She turned away from him, quiet and sullen. “How can you even look at me?”

Steve reached out his hand and pushed the hair back from her face. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen, Peg.”

“I left you,” she barked out at him. “I left you there, in the ice, alone and freezing for decades!”

Steve didn’t know what to say, he didn’t have an answer that changed what she did, or that could make her feel better. “And I left you, by crashing that plane. I was so sure that—” He stopped, emotion welling up in his own chest. “I was just so sure about it. I didn’t stop to think that I could have… that it meant.” He sighed and sat up further, pulling her to him. “I could have killed you, too. I could have… I never…”

His words devolved to mumbles of little meaning as he held her, and she held on just as tight for a long time. Finally, she pulled back, setting her hands on his cheeks. “Now, you listen to me. You did what you had to do. I’ve had a lot longer to think about it than you have, and there was no other good choice. You made the decision to save thousands, if not millions of lives. We knew that was potentially the cost of everything we did. We knew it could have been our lives that we paid with—”

“But I shouldn’t—”

She stopped him with her lips, kissing his softly. “You had no other choice.”

He let the sentence sit in the air around them for a moment before he replied. “And neither did you.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, but I never would have wanted you to just… I’m glad. I’m glad you moved on.”

“I tried,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “I tried but…”

Steve pulled back, lifting her arm and pressing his lips to the infinity symbol on the inside of her wrist. “It all feels like it was yesterday to me,” he said softly, laying back and tugging her to join him.

Peggy slipped into the bed, pressing herself to his side. “Sometimes I feel that way, too.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, just content to be holding one another. He can’t hold back the whisper. “I’m sorry I missed so much.”

Peggy made the conscious choice to avoid the minefield of emotions in that statement. “Well, you’ve quite a bit to catch up on. History. Books. Politics. Music. Technology.” She squeezed him tight for a moment. “We’ll start with technology, otherwise you’ll barely be able to get around the house.”

Steve smirked, “Howard’s ‘House of the Future’?”

“Something like that,” Peggy kissed his cheek.

“Doctor Cho said they’re setting up some kind of room for me at Tony’s…” he didn’t quite ask the question he wanted, but instead let it hang in the air.

Peggy nodded against him. “His home is quite… large. I live on one of the floors.” She sighed. “I think they’re setting up a medical suite for you on the one below it, just to get you out of here.”

“I’m doing better,” he argued lightly.

“I know, they’re just being cautious.” She cleared her throat. “Mostly because I threatened them.”

“Ah,” he chuckled, kissing her forehead. “No wonder.”

“I want you out of this beastly place as quickly as we can.”

Steve tipped his head up, looking at her. “And?”

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling just a little. “And then we go home. To New York. Get you back in top shape.”

He smiled down at her. “Then what?”

She reached up and kissed him softly. “Then infinity begins, my darling.”

~*~

A/N: I'm fairly sure that's all there is to this little universe, though I don't ever completely discount the possibility of revisiting it. I hope you enjoyed.

Peggy and Steve’s Soulmarks are actually based on a tattoo idea my friend has- she has the world “Always” in her husband’s handwriting on the inside of her wrist and she’s going to incorporate an infinity symbol for their song (John Mayer’s Edge of Desire (“Just a great, figure eight, a tiny infinity”) Edge of Desire is a GREAT Steggy Song.

[captainthane]

Fashion Day As A Cure (Valiant Souls And Early Birthday Gift)

It had been really quiet and gloomy the last few days. Claire wasn’t feeling like her usual self as she chose to stay in her room to meditate most of the time. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to spend with the rest of the DMN group. She…just thought about many things recently and it was affecting her much. She was probably one of the oldest humans that ever existed. Yet, she couldn’t forget her life and every past moment of it…including the bad ones.

In the group, Sally was the most concerned. After all, Claire was the one to help her control her “demonic” abilities through meditation, trainings and support. However, she wasn’t sure how to help Claire in return. Apep was next to her in front of Claire’s bedroom. He was smiling but Sally could feel he was also worried for his best friend. Claire and Apep had known each other for quite a while now.

- Claire is having rough days…(Sally)

- It’s because it’s this period of the year. (Apep)

- I’m not sure what to do to ease her sadness. (Sally)

- Don’t worry my dear Sally~ I got this~ (Apep)

As soon as he finished his sentence, he opened the door without even knocking before entering. Sally rolled her eyes and sighed as she knew he would do something like that. Inside the room, Claire was indeed meditating quietly but of course she was interrupted by Apep.

- What do you want? (Claire)

- You are coming with me and I don’t wish to hear any complaint~ You will follow me~ You can’t disobey a god~ (Apep)

- Fine. Where are we going? (Claire)

- It’s a surprise~ (Apep)

Claire took a deep breathe, wear her coat, waved at Sally and went outside with Apep. They took the car and drove for several minutes. Apep didn’t reveal anything, he parked the car in front of a huge mall. Claire started to understand slowly what was Apep’s idea. She was smiling a bit for the first time in days. They left the car and walked in direction of the mall’s entrance. This place was expensive but it seemed Apep didn’t care. Actually, such place was fitting for someone like him.

- You really know me too well. I have not enough money though. (Claire)

- You are my guest this afternoon, everything is on me~ (Apep)

He winked while Claire giggled. And just like that, they spent the afternoon doing some shopping and testing many kinds of fancy clothes. At some point, Claire finally gave in for a set of clothes. She couldn’t resist as it was making her really elegant and pretty despite her advanced age. Apep also found the clothes he wanted to buy. Both of them laughed once they were wearing their new clothes.

- We are looking very elegant like this~ Especially you my dear Claire~ (Apep)

- Apep…thank you. I…really needed something like that. You are the best. (Claire)

- I know I’m but you are also the amazing kind Claire~ Clearly life is way less boring thanks to you~ Come on~ the day is not over yet~ (Apep)

- Then, let’s enjoy it more before reuniting with the others! (Claire)

Her sadness was vanishing rapidly now. Her life was maybe tough and exhausting but she now remembered that it wasn’t over yet and she wasn’t alone either. She would never replace Apep or the DMN group for anything. It was her family. An irreplaceable one.  

----------

My gift for the birthday of @superyoumna 

Her birthday is tomorrow but since I’m working I prefer to give it now ^^ so Youmna if you are reading this, I wish you a wonderful and happy early birthday! You are an amazing friend and such an incredible person and artist! I will never forget the chance you offered me when it comes to have a small active role for Valiant Souls! I met so many wonderful people thanks to you! I hope you will like my gifts! (The story and the drawing) :D And I hope you will enjoy your birthday tomorrow! :DD

The drawing was a commission from me made by the awesome @abel-draws​ as a gift for Youmna!

Please support her and give her love! (Do the same with superyoumna ^^)

Claire belongs to me

Sally belongs to @superyoumna

Apep belongs to @superyoumna and @rahafwabas

Valiant souls belongs to @superyoumna and @hammie-heart

[heraldofzaun]

//Still lurking.

Some thoughts below the cut. A little melancholic. A little ranty. Many thoughts on how Viktor is perceived by the fandom at large. It got away from me.

I think I’ve mentioned it elsewhere, but I have followers here and this is also a Viktor blog... I think it would be nice if people stopped making fun of Viktor’s accent - I saw T/BSkyen’s (I think that keeps me out of the tag) shorts video on Viktor, and it was disheartening that he chose to make fun of Viktor’s accent several times throughout a one-minute video. No other character with a hammy, over-the-top accent, as far I know, receives this treatment. No one makes fun of Caitlyn’s British accent in character analyses of her. No one makes fun of Fiora’s French accent in character analyses of her. (I just checked his videos on them, actually, and guess what - no mocking their accents by doing them! Although Fiora’s accent does get mentioned, at the least.)

Just... stop doing it? We know the accent is cartoonishly bad and not accurate to actual Russian accents at all. But why, specifically, are people - T/BSkyen, in this instance - compelled to make fun of Viktor by putting on an accent and saying “Get reed of all emotions“ and “GLORIOUS EVOLUTION” and “BEEP BOOP ROBOT BRAIN”? (The misspelling in the first is not mine. It is in the actual subtitles for the video.)

I mean, we all know that the answer is the fact that American (and other countries, but we can focus on America for now) media spent the Cold War convincing Americans that Russians and Eastern Europeans were mindless followers of ideology and/or Crazy Insane Scientists, instead of like... people with diverse thoughts and feelings who may or may not agree with their government, but like... I have to ask the rhetorical questions here because no one else is going to apparently. Anyways it’s 2021 stop conflating people and the governments they live under, I guess.

Anyways, also very disheartening that I just checked the pinned comment on that video and he is now saying that Viktor’s endpoint is the Battlecast universe, which is not a canon fact even in current lore. It’s an assumption. I can’t even say that Full Machine Viktor is Viktor’s endpoint, because that was retconned into being a janitor skin that randomly breaks into Spanish in the skin bio for a... “joke”? (Because that’s a cool thing to do. I’d ask how that got past anyone, but that’s a pointless question.) But Battlecast is not stated anywhere to be the end result of canonical Viktor, as far as I know. I suppose it’s not stated to not be the result, but... Like, what other character gets an AU skinline that people then say has to be their canonical endgoal when it is not said to be their canonical endgoal by any official source?

Quothe the loremaster... “The endpoint of Viktor's quest is the Battlecast universe. In case y'all forgot. Read between the lines of his stories even a little bit before stanning him, I'm begging you.”

The entirety of the pinned comment is frustrating. It is frustrating not only because it clashes entirely with the funny comical tone of the minute-long short, which also decides to yet again conflate transhumanism with being trans (we have heard my thoughts on this before. Please stop doing this), but because it is unfortunately true in aspects about current Viktor. He is really not a good man, even though you may be able to argue that Riot’s biased narrator choices mean that a canonical version of the Viktor-Jayce fight does not exist. (Because both lores tell their sides of the story. Biasedly.) But as the story stands, his character getting filled out didn’t make him more morally ambiguous than his original counterpart. The ambiguity that existed originally was due to us not knowing a lot about him and thus being able to interpret things the way we wished. (I’m sure that there is still room for interpretation in the new lore, but it seems lesser to me. Also, his color story is framed atrociously. It’s going for warm and fuzzy when the content of it is giving a kid drugs but this is a long enough post already...)

Riot does not know what to do with Viktor. They’re content to portray him as a Russian mad scientist and buffoon in LoR and in some other media, because... [gestures at the struck-out paragraph above]. But then they have his lore which... could be interesting, maybe, if it weren’t convinced that the way to tell a morally grey story is to have narrators more unreliable than a pull-start lawn mower. Like, they just don’t know what to do with him.

Any analysis of him needs to come with that caveat, not someone deciding that the best way to spent a minute of analysis is to make multiple jokes about Viktor’s accent being stereotypical via... feeding into it being stereotypical... and saying that transhumanism is related to trans rights in any inherent way.

Also, T/BSkyen says that Viktor only has an augmented hand and the third arm, which conveniently ignores the fact that Prototype is probably supposed to be taken as semi-canonical considering its name and the fact it was made when backstory-related skins were a more common thing. (And also because it hasn’t been retconned into being a janitor.) It also conveniently ignores the fact that Viktor’s lower legs clearly don’t look like armor on his model, but this is a side tangent that doesn’t really matter, so...

Whatever, right? I’ve clearly put more thought into this than League’s local loremaster put into that video and subsequent “no guys he really is a baddie stop stanning him and grow critical thinking skills” comment. Sorry if I sound jaded here or am taking this far too seriously or whatever, it’s just... man, it’s a lot. It makes trying to do my take in any public capacity feel kind of like shit, because it’s clear that the general perception of Viktor is currently 1) Haha Funny Accent Man, 2) Trans Rights!1!, and/or 3) He’s Evil :(, and it sucks. I already am writing for a niche audience who will accept a Viktor who never went to Piltover and who exists in old Zaun. I know that that’s niche. I’m okay with it being niche, I think.

But it sucks to build up all this character and do all this writing and try to... I don’t know, present a nuanced view of someone, and then just get another fucking joke about his accent or his design tropes or about what transhumanism is. Especially when those jokes are what people remember, right?

Sorry. This got whiny. But I think it explains why I’ve lost so much steam on writing our favorite Machine Herald, because stuff like this just keeps kind of... happening.

Thank you to the folks that send in anons about my analyses or who like my posts about my artistic endeavors or just... well, interact in general. It does mean a lot to me that you guys are invested enough to hang around and read 2k words of me doing the Pepe Silvia scene from Always Sunny as I connect dots that might not have been meant to be connected. It’s just hard to keep doing it, sometimes, and I guess this is one of those moments.

[prometheanglory]

tagged by @/edda-blattfe! thanks for the tag !

fic prefs: aaaaaa i’m a rly big fan of angst and drama? kvjdfbh generally speaking I only read fics rated mature and up, but if it’s got the potential for emotional evisceration then i’m already eyeing it up 👀 that being said, i don’t like fics that go too hammy on the angst and always resorting to death and or having to break down screaming and crying or something lol i’m incredibly picky w/ angst. i’m very much for symbolism and introspection.... love me some nuanced  feelings. huge fan of fics with flavors of self-imposed destruction or kinda. impulsive crash and burn?? i’m NOT here for woobies, i need... self-awareness of being Awful... IF I WALK AWAY FROM IT WITH FEELINGS THAT I CAN’T PLACE (in a good way) THEN UGH. YES!!!

slow burn or love at first sight ? (I’M A LITTLE BITCH FOR SLOW BURN I LOVE IT SO MUCH...THE YEARNING.... THE YEARNING!!!)

fake dating or secretly dating ? (i cant pick LMAO i like them both. fake dating bc there’s the inevitable Slip, secret dating bc of the need to hide away.. good stuff.)

enemies to lovers or friends to lovers ? (i like the Gradual Shift and the difficulties of moving on from ur past habits... like YES.)

“oh no there’s only one bed” or long distance correspondence? ( :-) hehehe )

hurt / comfort or amnesia ? (generally speaking i don’t rly read hurt/comfort but i get kinda bored of amnesia fics.)

fantasy au or modern au ? ( modern aus usually just fall into the same pitfalls and i get kinda bored ! fantasy always good fun ! ) 

mutual pining or domestic bliss ? ( mmmm :] it’s just ! exciting to read about two people chasing after each other )

smut or fluff ? (horny on main LMAO but yeah. shit b hitting differently. takes a skilled hand to effectively write smut and not bore the reader. bonus points if you throw in extra emotions outside of ‘i need to bang rn’, i’m fond of the smut fics that got a double sided blade. hit me with that subtle angst or I Am So Entranced By You. EMOTIONAL HIGHS YEAH )

canon complement / missing scenes or fix it ? (i like both ? but if i honestly if i had to chose, canon complement can rly emphasize and heighten the emotional impact of a scene bc the fics can dive much further than the actual source could have due to time constraints or something ! )

one shot or multi chapter ? (depends ! but generally i like multichapter things)

kid fic or road trip ? ( hmm.... hard question. i don’t really read either of these, but i think i’d choose road trip just because it’s got good potential for character interactions bc ur stuck in the same tiny space LMAO. )

reincarnation or character’s death ? (HONESTLY. I LOVE REINCARNATION IF ITS DONE IN A RLY SPECIFIC WAY BUT. yknow sometimes u just prefer it when they die and its done with. something very, clean cut about it. room for introspection and processing how exactly the death is affecting them?? love it. )

arranged marriage or accidental marriage ? (GOOD SLOWBURN POTENTIAL. SO MUCH GOOD SLOW BURN POTENTIAL. )

neighbors or roommates ? (aint no better way to learn about each other than being crammed in the same place)

high-school romance or middle-aged romance ? (idk. good jaded potential. i like it. a nice mature flare to things outside of the usual genre of ‘teenage fling’. that being said though, middle-aged flings are very much welcomed.) 

time travel or isolated together ? (lot’s of freedom here)

sci-fi au or magic au ? (i haven’t seen many sci fi aus for the things that i read rip so this an unfair advantage)

body swap or genderbend ? (i don’t rly read these fics ! but if i had to, i’d read bodyswap just because)

angst or crack ? ( i think i already exposed myself as an angst/drama maniac through my previous answers. I JUST RLY. LIKE EMOTIONAL INTENSITY. PLEASE DEAR GOD SHOW ME EFFECTIVE EMOTIONAL WRITING WITH AN INCREDIBLE AND UNIQUE ATMOSPHERE.)

apocalyptic or mundane ? ( KICK ASS AND SURVIVE. also i just like the angst and desperation potential that comes with apocalyptic. not so much an ‘edgy grimdark one-note tale’ but i like the possible exploration of tragedy and hope. ) honestly if u see this, ur tagged. go. do it. i need u to do it. i cannot be the only clown in this circus. (but just in case. hi yume ily homie @briarrosescurse)

[peonypearls-muddled-musings]

Flowers - Dargon (birthday blurb)

"Where are you going?" He asked as he slowly walked behind the toddling child in front of him. Dargon inched forward, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched his daughter amble through the castle garden. She rounded her little fists as she stomped along and cooed to herself.

Dargon couldn’t help but smile as he followed. Dagney would often stop to look at her surroundings. Her stops were interluded with thoughtful nibbles at her little fingers with what few teeth had grown in by now. She perused her path options before she peered up at her father. Their identical amber eyes met before she squealed in delight, and her hammy little arms flapped before she scooted along on her way again, which granted another laugh from her father as he followed slowly behind. He wanted to ensure her safety, but give her enough space to explore. 

The past year had been full of new experiences for the whole family; for little Dagney, and especially for Dargon and Gwinletta as they ventured into parenthood. Neither of them had ever really let themselves explore the thought of one day being parents during their younger years as they merely fought to survive; but after they met each other, and through their subsequent marriage, they realized they could grow the family they'd never had, and they were excited to bring little ones into the nest. 

As Dagney grew, so did their questions of their own families. Gwinletta often missed her parents, who had sadly met their demise at the hands of pillagers when she was ten. She had never quite been able to cope with her grief, and she dearly pondered what their experiences could have been with little Dagney. Each time Dargon looked into Gwin’s eyes as she held Dagney whilst she talked about her mother, and as she reminisced about the little lullabies and special mantras from her younger days, it broke Dargon's heart. Through each lullaby Gwin wrote for Dagney, Dargon knew they came from a place in Gwin’s soul that still hurt to this day.

But there was a long-lodged thorn that pierced Dargon's heart from the bountiful rosebush that had bloomed along with his family. He looked at Dagney and wondered about his own mother. What would she say about her son now? The boy she'd named her home-tongue's term for 'garbage' had been given crown and queen and child; said child had come forth with help from his blasphemous abilities, and he'd never once regretted the worry and agony. But his situation had been much different from his mother's; at least that was what he’d gathered from the knit-together pieces of his memories from when he lived with her in Hell. Those memories often stirred shame and confusion. He'd entered the world as a being born to be hated and, if need be, slaughtered. His mother, a human, had been forced into Hell once it had been discovered she'd borne a Shifter mongrel. She had no business being there; and she made sure her son knew it. Dargon had all but raised himself; but as he looked at his daughter, who he quickly picked up before she could force her way through a patch of tulips, he couldn't help but wonder: what had their relationship been like when he was this small?

Dagney fussed and wriggled until Dargon released her to a different path He gave her a little pat to let her know he was behind her; and she zoomed on her way as she babbled to herself. She grumbled and gurgled in thought as she toed through the grass, which remained constantly green and fresh in the controlled atmosphere of the interior gardens. 

The thorn remained buried; questions about his mother he'd asked himself for so long had piled up over the year. As he carried and delivered Dagney, to the first time he held her, through his talks and songs to her, all while he looked into her eyes, wide and bright and innocent as she soaked up every ounce of emotion he and Gwin offered. 

The very thought Dagney being named something similar to him made his stomach churn. It was another thorn in his heart. His daughter, his new day; he could never liken her to the throwaway name he’d been given. 

But he had no idea about his father. About who he was, or his relationship with his mother. Dargon had no clue about how he came to be; and another thorn lodged itself as he wondered, not only about what his mother's fate had been after his escape from Hell, but also about the unknown circumstances of how Dargon had entered her life. 

He felt so many stinging sensations in his chest; all the way down his spine and gut, to his hands and feet. He closed his eyes, feeling them burn. The fine clothing he wore didn't matter. The expensive gold rings on his fingers were worthless. The castle felt so far away. 

For a moment, he was, once again, an unwanted Hellion.

Until a squeal broke him out of his stupor as Dagney toddled back his way as she roughly brandished a peony she'd torn from a nearby bush. She made her way back to Dargon, who sighed and felt the thorns slowly release his skewered heart.

Instead, the blooms burst forth as Dagney smiled at him; and he knelt down to greet her.

"Is this for me?" He asked as Dagney waved the flower around which caused a bend in the stem before she allowed her father to claim the poor bloom. "Thank you," Dargon smiled as she grinned at him, pleased with her gift. She reached up, and Dargon happily lifted her into his arms as she retrieved the peony.

"I think I know someone who would love this," Dargon said as he turned to leave the garden. Outside in the castle, the halls were painted gold with another autumn sunset, and Dagney's laughter could be heard through the castle as Dargon kept her entertained. They reached their apartment, and were greeted inside with the smell of one of Gwin's favorite candles. She sat in the living nook, dressed in her nightgown with a book in her hand and a still-steaming cup of tea on the table next to her. She looked up as her husband and daughter returned, and she beamed; she set her book aside and stood to greet them.

"My two favorite people," she announced just as Dagney waved the bent peony her way. Gwin appeared surprised, but the gleam in her face was genuine, and Dargon couldn't help but smile. "For me?" Gwin asked as she accepted the flower from her proud daughter. "Thank you, love!" 

Dargon met Dagney's gaze as she looked up at him, pleased with herself. He nuzzled her little mop of brown hair and kissed the side of her head before he let her down to roam the already Dagney-proofed apartment. Gwin smelled the peony as they both watched Dagney sit at one of her toys before peering up at her husband. 

Dargon could almost smell the springtime in her green eyes.

"That flower's almost as pretty as you are," he said, and his hand reached forward to claim hers; he kissed Gwin’s soft knuckles as she smiled back.

"The first line in the oldest book."

"A classic," he said softly as she pressed her body to his. "But don't take my word for it, I mean, I didn't learn how to read until I was, what, 20? Books still really aren't my thing." 

Gwin laughed, pressing her cheek to his chest as she embraced him. She felt his arms around her; his palms ran down her back, open and splayed as he read her the same way he did every day. She looked up, about to reach up and kiss him; but concern etched itself on her face as she could tell his own features were knitted a certain way.

"Dargon; are you okay?" She asked softly. Dargon blinked as he realized he still wore the heaviness of his thoughts from the garden.

"It's... nothing new," he said; which clued Gwinletta in on the cause of his distress. She reached up and let her hand trail his scarred face gently. Her fingers slowly slipped into the dunes of his platinum hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch as he soaked it up like it was the last, crisp rays of sunshine before winter. "I thought I was done feeling this way."

Gwin's expression softened. "You have every right to wonder. Every right to be sad," she said as her other hand claimed one of his with the peony bloom interlocked in their hands. "You help me when I miss my family. I won't turn you away when you wonder about yours."

"I know you won't. But... These memories offer no happiness to us; no aid in raising Dagney, or being effective leaders."

Gwin squeezed his hand. "That doesn't mean you have to ignore them," she said. "I'm not going to tell you to stop mourning what you experienced. I'll never expect you to get over those years of your life. You've been dealt enough cruelty; I don't intend to add onto what you've witnessed." 

Dargon pressed his forehead to hers as he yearned for every bit of her warmth. Her calm countenance granted him much-needed serenity before they looked into each others' eyes once more.

"I love you," Gwin whispered. 

Dargon never took that phrase for granted. Three words bound together with her touch and gaze, like the binding of their wedding rings, in a union that offered him solace with her grace alone. He squeezed her hand back before he kissed into the palm that traced his face, which was decorated with scars. 

"I love you too," he offered back. 

With fresh water and a handsome vase, the peony found a home on the dining table, and soon Dargon and Gwinletta had readied Dagney for bed. Dargon slipped into his own night clothes and he went to join Gwin in Dagney's room. He leaned on the doorframe as he listened to Gwin soothe their daughter to sleep with one of her own penned lullabies. Dargon watched the two most important people in his life, entranced in a cocoon of warmth and tenderness. Gwin remained seated in the rocking chair for a short time after finishing her lullaby as she allowed for a moment of quiet to envelop the room before Dargon approached. Gwin let him take Dagney to place her into her crib, and both of them leaned over to stroke her hair or touch her little hands with a whisper of ‘goodnight’. 

Dargon closed the door gently behind them, and Gwin interlocked her hand with his. “You’ve come such a long way, Dargon,” Gwin whispered up at him as she offered a smile. Dargon felt the roses in his chest reach further out, budding and warming his heart as he gazed down at his wife. 

“I’ve had a lot of help,” he answered; and as they entered their bedchambers, Dargon didn't expect Gwin to run her hand up his arm in the firm fashion she did; the way he recognized as a silent cue that she wasn't interested in sleeping just yet. It was something he didn't have to overthink for once. Her eyes were solely on him as her hands ran up his arms and down his chest; and within moments the night outfit he'd just slipped on was discarded quickly by her as he helped her out of her gown. 

And each breathless utterance of his name that Gwinletta whispered into his eager mouth tasted like the roses that bloomed in his chest.

[anatraart]

When You’re Gone Part 2

Read it on AO3 HERE

Alexander awoke the next morning to a knock on the door. Groaning, he rolled out of bed, slipping on his sweater before opening the door. Nobody needed to see his scars yet. He didn’t want anyone to know that much.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by an equally tired-looking John. “I was chosen to come let you know to get ready. George figured we could all go out to breakfast, then go shopping after.”

Alexander nodded. “Alright. I’ll be down in 15.” John nodded in response and wandered off. Alexander went over to his bag and grabbed his only other set if clothing, walking in the bathroom to take a quick shower and wash his face. Alexander ended up throwing his hair into a messy bun, letting a few stands free so they framed his face.

He did one last onceover, deciding to keep the sweater on in hopes to keep the little respect he had from these people. When he decided it was okay, he left the room, shitting the lights off. Alexander made his way downstairs, recalling the few times he had been through these halls. It was so odd to think that this was his home.

That’s when it hit him. This was his life now. He’s probably be kicked out sooner or later, either from his sexuality or all the medication he takes. He’d be with another family soon enough. Everyone said it always happened.

Alexander took a breath to calm himself before heading down the stairs and making his way to the voices he heard, which happened to be coming from the living room. When he entered, all eyes turned on him, so he decided to look down.

The first person to speak was Martha. “Dear you know it’s warm outside right now, right?”

Alexander nodded. “Mhm.” he didn’t want to deal with it. They couldn’t know. He had to be careful if he wanted to stay.

Alexander watched nervously as John and Lafayette gave each other a look, almost as if they knew something. Lafayette whispered something to John, who nods and stands up, walking to Alexander. Without warning, John grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out of the room, earning curious looked from George and Martha.

As soon as they were out of earshot, John let go of his wrist, arms crossed. “Would you like to spill the truth?”

Alexander stopped and stared at him. John’s face and posture held no real anger or aggression. “Not exactly.”

“Look, I know I shouldn’t have snooped, but I saw you were on antidepressants. Now sure, it said nowhere it was an antidepressant, but unlike everyone else here I know one when I see one.” Alexander’s eyes widened, and he admitted defeat.

“I just… You shouldn’t have…” John shook his head.

“I won’t say anything if you tell me. Please.” John looked at him with pleading eyes.

“F-fine…” Alexander shakily pulled up one of the sleeves. He closed his eyes, waiting to be yelled at, but without a moment’s notice he felt someone pull him into a hug. Warily, he opened his eyes, noticing it was John, who had hugged him.

“Hey, It’s okay alright?” Alexander nodded, and John pulled away from him. “Please though, come talk to me if you feel like doing this again? I know how it feels more than you’d know.”

Before he could ask what he meant, John walked off, back into the living room. Pulling the sleeve down and wiping his face to make sure he hadn’t spilt any tears, Alexander followed him back inside, plastering a smile to his face.

“Alright, well if everyone’s ready let’s get going.” George said when Alexander walked in the room. Alexander nodded and quietly followed everyone out.

Alexander ended up being next to John in the far back seat of the car, choosing on sitting there and enjoying the quiet over conversing, only speaking when someone would ask him a question directly.

When they arrived at the mall, Alexander let himself be dragged out by an overly excited Lafayette, followed by a smiling John. Alexander wanted to complain and ask where they were going, but seeing how excited Lafayette was, he let it slide.

The first place Alexander was dragged into was a Macy’s. It started out okay, but once Alexander looked at one of the price tags he begun to freak out a little, constantly asking if they were sure they were fine with spending so much on him.

Considering he had grown up with barely enough money to eat, he was appalled at the prices. 40 dollars for a pair of jeans seemed excessive to him. The entire time, John and Lafayette kept telling him not to worry about it. At one point, John even felt the need to pull him aside to remind him that it wasn’t an issue for the Washingtons. Alexander decided to just let it go, figuring it couldn’t be that bad. When they were done, Alexander, Lafayette, and John were able to get away, deciding to go get lunch.

They went to a place called Panda Express, which confused Alexander as he had never heard of the place. It turned out, it was Chinese food, which Alexander also discovered was delicious.

“So, I’m kinda curious. Someone mentioned you had an older brother. Where is he?” Lafayette asked while they are, looking genuinely curious. Alexander wanted to yell at him for asking about James, but ultimately decided against it. Lafayette probably doesn't know what happened.

“He… he died in the hurricane.” Good. It wasn’t rude, and it hopefully will shut off all questions.

“What was he like?” John gave him a small smile. Shit.

“Oh… He was amazing. When our cousin committed suicide, he was the only person I had left. He actually convinced someone to keep it a secret as to keep us out of the system.”

“The… system?” Lafayette looked at wim with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“Foster system.” John answered for him. Alexander shot a smile at John, who returned it with a nod.

»»————- ————-««

John wanted to scream. He was trying so hard not to flirt with Lafayette’s new foster brother, and it was so hard. He didn’t even know if Alexander liked guys.

He has mentioned his little dilemma to Lafayette, who had thought he was joking. But holy shit the little immigrant was adorable. He was trying, and had hoped Alexander hadn’t noticed the looks Lafayette would give him whenever he would say anything that could remotely be seen as flirting.

He felt bad when Alexander’s brother was brought up during lunch. He had noticed the brief flash of sadness overtake him, assuming Lafayette didn’t as he continued the conversation.

John was grateful when George and Martha came up to them, quickly extinguishing the conversation. Turned out they had added Alexander to their phone plan, telling him they needed to be able to contact him. Alexander kept telling them they didn’t need to, despite George being insistent.

Alexander ended up giving in, and John added his number into Alexander’s phone.

“I’m so adding you into the group chat.” Lafayette said, smiling deviously.

“Oh my god Laf, no. Not the big one. Let’s not kill him with everyone’s bullshit yet.”

“It’s fine, John. I’m kinda curious anyways.” a few minutes later his phone dinged, and opening up the notification he wanted to scream.

Baguette has added Hammy to The Squad™

TurtleBoi: Oh god Laf. you're going to kill him. Pegs Play nice

PegLeg: I haven’t said anything yet!

BurningThings: Wait, Laf is this the new foster brother you mentioned?

Baguette: Yep!

MyPantsAreHot: Ahh. So you’re the one John mentioned.

Hammy: Wait, what?

TurtleBoi: Nothing. Don’t worry about it

NeverSatisfied: Guys stop it. John was right. You’re all gonna kill him.

BurningThings: Aww.

PegLeg: I think we should all introduce ourselves.

MyPantsAreHot: Ang, Liza is Peggy alright? She just said something smart.

NeverSatisfied: Idk might be sick

PegLeg: Hey!

Baguette: I agree with Peggy though. Alexander has no clue who anyone is.

TurtleBoi: Alright. I’m sure you’ve figured out Laf and I.

Hammy: Yeah.

NeverSatisfied: Angelica Schuyler

BurningThings: Eliza Schuyler

PegLeg: AND PEGGY

MyPantsAreHot: xD omg Peggy.

Hammy: I’m kind of confused what ‘omg’ means

TurtleBoi: Wait, have you ever had a phone before?

Hammy: Never had the money. Plus there were only like, 3 phones in my village.

PegLeg: Wait, ‘village’?

NeverSatisfied: Peggy be nice or I’m going to come and steal your phone.

Hammy: It’s fine.

MyPantsAreHot: So like where are you from?

Hammy: Nevis. Small island in the Caribbean.

BurningThings: damn.

Baguette: Je suis curieux de savoir s'il parle un français Angie.

NeverSatisfied: Ce serait bien. Je crois que l'espagnol est parlé dans les Caraïbes.

Hammy: Le français, l'espagnol et l'anglais sont parlés d'où je viens.

TurtleBoi: English. Nobody else speaks French.

Baguette: John parle aussi l'espagnol

PegLeg: English!

Hammy: Aunque ahora no tengo ganas de hablar en inglés.

NeverSatisfied: Shit. How many languages DO you speak?

Hammy: Three.

TurtleBoi: Finalmente alguien que habla español aquí. Laf y Angie tienen su francés.

Pegleg: Herc, Eliza, I guess it’s just us speaking English here now.

Baguette: Oui! Get Thomas in here and we have 4 French speakers!

NeverSatisfied: Laf, no.

Pegleg: Don’t kill him with Jeffershit yet.

BurningThings: Please, leave Thomas out of this group chat.

Baguette: Mes amies, come on. He’s not that bad.

MyPantsAreHot: Laf, this is the one time I have to disagree with you. Please don’t add Jefferson.

Hammy: What did Thomas do to make everyone hate him?

TurtleBoi: He’s a pretentious fuck who thinks he owns everything.

Baguette: Better he meets him here before dinner.

TurtleBoi: Fuck. I forgot Martha and George wanted him to meet everyone.

PegLeg: Oh, that’s tonight?

BurningThings: Yes, Peggy. I told you this an hour ago.

NeverSatisfied: These are not my sisters. I am not related to them.

Baguette: Fine. He’ll meet Thomas tonight.

TurtleBoi: Pegs you’re on glue duty.

PegLeg: Alright. It’s going to be amazing tonight.

Baguette: Now, as much as I’d like to continue talking, we’re pulling up to the house. Ttyl!

TurtleBoi: Bye

John turned off his phone and decided it safer to ignore the continued dings. He looked over to Alexander, who had started ignoring it long ago. As soon as the car stopped, John was out of the car, dragging Alexander along with him.

Alexander seemed to not mind being dragged around, and John was grateful for that. He felt bad enough as it is, even more so at the thought he was going to have to meet Thomas fucking Jefferson and most likely his even more pretentious parents.

“Well tonight is going to be interesting.” John said once they got to Alexander’s room.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if Jefershit is going to be here, at least one of his even more pretentious parents will be as well. I mean, the Schuylers will be fine. They’ll adore you. But the Jeffersons? They’ll tear you apart.”

Alexander sighed. “I guess, but I mean how bad can they be?”

John wanted to smack some sense into him. If he didn’t know Alexander wasn’t used to these kinds of things, he would have done so long ago. “Look, they already talk shit about me because unlike their perfect son, I don’t like going to all the events and shit. Nothing against you, but they’re going to be talking so much shit about you.”

“What do you mean though?”

“They only talk to ‘their kind’ such as families who come from old money, and who have their perfectly behaved kids.”

“Oh…” Alexander looked like he felt bad, which made John feel like shit.

“Look, I’m sorry come here.” John pulled Alexander into a hug. “Plus, they’re like, super homophobic. Literally, 80 percent of our little group is gay, bi, pan, or something similar. I think Angie is the only straight person, to be honest.”

When John spoke, he wasn’t thinking. He still had no idea about Alexander’s views on that kind of thing but feeling Alexander relax into the hug, he hoped he had said the right thing. Before either of them got a chance to speak again, there was a knock on the door. John pulled away, noticing how much more genuine Alexander’s smile seemed and went to the door.

Opening it, he saw Lafayette, standing there with a smile on his face. “I was told to tell you guys to get ready. The Schuylers are going to be here in an hour, since Peggy and Eliza wanted to meet Alexander before Thomas comes.”

“Alright. Thanks for the heads up.” John smiled and closed the door when Lafayette walked off, presumably to get ready. He turned around to Alexander, smile spreading. “Time to get you ready to meet the Schuyler sisters.”

[zukadiary]

Company/BADDY ~ Moon Troupe 2018

Welp I'm in Japan again, for a bizarre trip considering none of my so-called faves are doing anything I'd normally clamor to see live... There are multiple reasons for that, but a big one is I let the idea of this show seduce me completely. I pegged it my most highly anticipated Grand Theater of the year pretty much as soon as the blurbs came out, anticipated it even more after I read and loved the novel, and pretty much lost my mind as soon as the first BADDY tweets surfaced back in February. So I braved Golden Week crowds in Hibiya to squeeze two viewings out of the last week of the run, and I'm quite pleased with my choices.

COMPANY

I summarized Company and its characters a bit before so I won't do it again; they stuck to the premise well enough.

I'd call Company cute and very pleasant; I thought everyone did a wonderful job and any qualms I have are with Ishida-sensei. My love of the book definitely enhanced my appreciation of the show because I went in already attached to the characters, but it also set me up for disappointment in a few places where Ishida fell flat. It's a bit of a long book though, and overall I think he cut exactly what needed to be cut to fit it into one act.

What I LOVE about the play as a whole is the modernness of it; Takarazuka almost never does shows set in present-day Japan, and its shows set in present-day elsewhere often come awkwardly tinged with an uncool dad vibe (LET'S TAKE A SELFIE FOR FACENOTE a la Vampire Succession, for example). Company felt totally natural and it was really refreshing. That said, something bugged me about the line delivery in pretty much the entire show; it was kind of stiff and hammy. I'm inclined to believe it was the direction, but I do wonder if it was just Patented Takarazuka Acting™ and it happened to stand in greater contrast against a modern play (and I also wonder if that's why they shy away from such stories).

Tamakichi was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. Her character Aoyagi's backstory was changed by absolute necessity; the book opens with his wife leaving him, but in the opening song of the show he tells us she's died from cancer two years back. Book Aoyagi is a nobody at work and pretty much a total loser in general at the beginning, and goes on a real journey of self love and improvement. I am a little sad we didn't get this angle because I think Tamakichi could have done an absolutely heartbreaking job portraying that particular transformation, but I also completely understand that including all that simply wasn't possible. Instead we have Cool Good-Looking Senpai Aoyagi, reliable leader from start to finish, whose journey is injecting some joy back into his life and beginning to heal from his wife's death. Tamakichi is so good at the wholesome everyday hero I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. My biggest takeaway from her performance, other than that she slays in a basic clean-cut suit, is that she has blossomed and is such a top star. NO SHADE to Tamakichi up till now; she's done nothing but impress me since assuming office. But while what stood out to me in Grand Hotel and All for One was the balance of the troupe and how perfectly they allowed their other wonderful players support her, SHE stood out to me in Company all on her own; her presence and confidence were incredible. They kept Chapi the exact right amount of time.

This could be Chapi's most typical top musumeyaku role since Tamakichi took over, but it's still unique in that she's the pursuer in their romance and I love that. Minami, while less confident in her ballet/work life than Stage Aoyagi seems to be in his work life, is slightly more confident in their personal interactions—always trying to joke, lighten the mood for him, drop hints—and it's a lovely dynamic. Her portrayal was probably the most faithful to the book. Chapi is bright and cheery and the smoothest actress, and every bit of real ballet we get to see her do is a blessing.

I had the greatest attachment to Haruka (MiyaRuri) and Yui (Umi-chan) going in. My absolute favorite aspect of the book was the slow burn surrounding everything Haruka: his relationship with Yui especially, but also with Aoyagi and the others. Of course I totally understand there is no room for slow burn in one act. Aside from that, Miya was exactly the Haruka I imagined and that was a joy to watch (her costume and countenance in the Dark Gay Swan Lake scene in particular is a VISION). Yui is another refreshing atypical musumeyaku character and Umi did a great job. It's a pretty good show for musumeyaku roles in general; Sara (Wakaba) and Noa (Touka Yurino) are also pretty big parts. I loved Kumichou in particular, she had some amazing one-liners.

My biggest disappointment was in Ishida's handling of Nayuta (Reiko). Reiko did just fine, but I felt that Ishida sucked all the life out of the character. Book Nayuta is a hot-headed asshole who underneath all the strutting and crude commentary cares a lot about his performing. A lot of that comes from him being a trainee idol and trying to prove that he has a place among his equally hot-headed senpai whereas Stage Nayuta is the star of the group, but it's NOT AT ALL HARD TO IMAGINE that a star idol might be kind of a hot-headed asshole. Stage Nayuta was just kind of pretty and there, and as a result the drama surrounding him joining Dark Gay Swan Lake in the Prince role felt flat to me. This is one change I really think could have been made in the given timeframe. (Trivia bit: in the understandably zuka-fied Final Drama where Nayuta injures Sara on stage with a lift gone wrong, Nayuta locks himself in the bathroom at intermission and won't stop crying from guilt. In the book, he feels his finger slip between her ribs during the lift, and dwelling on the sensation makes him so ill he can't stop throwing up).

Toshi is a VERY cool idol group leader; Ari is, as I predicted, herself; and Ruu, Shimon, and Mayupon are a pretty funny group (boss and salarymen), with Mayupon in particular also absolutely WEARING the normal suit look. Everyone else was pretty light on the stage time.

BADDY

BADDY is a triumph. If you still have the opportunity to watch it sans spoilers, I recommend it, I'm jealous, and I would love to know what that's like. However I can also say that I read almost everything about it before seeing it and I felt no less impact from its brilliance.

It's completely ridiculous, but the balance it strikes in its ridiculousness is absolutely sublime. Simplicity combined with absurdist randomness; both using and upending traditional Takarazuka elements JUST enough; it strikes the perfect note.

There's so much to unpack.

For one thing, it's SO META. We open in Takarazuka City on the Peaceful Planet that has seen no disturbance in 103 years, and down comes the Baddies' spaceship with a thunk. Following the thunk, Tamakichi declares "Looks like you've been waiting quite a while for this," RIGHT BEFORE going into the standard opening announcement—"written and directed by Ueda Kumiko," etc—and I am sure that's her sticking in her own jab about Takarazuka waiting 103 years before letting one of their female directors do a revue. Really, I wouldn't be surprised if the ENTIRE THING was a reference to this; I mean we're in TAKARAZUKA CITY where COOL BADDIES infiltrate a BORING LAME SOCIETY THAT HASN'T CHANGED IN 103 YEARS and then they BLOW EVERYTHING UP and EVERYONE GOES TO HEAVEN. That's bold, UeKumi.

There are smaller amusing references too... Reiko commenting that Amashi Juri's character looks new (she just switched to musumeyaku), Tamakichi kidnapping Reiko and giving her to Miya saying "here you're in charge of improving this person's general everything" which I'm pretty sure is Miya and Reiko's IRL relationship.

(Amashi Juri is so cute I can't stand it, help).

Another thing, it flows so beautifully for a revue with a plot (not a theme, a plot... the only other example of which I can recall at the moment is Nova Bossa Nova, which does not flow like this). Despite the scenes connecting perfectly into one cohesive story, they are still individual scenes that feel like standard revue scenes, with variety and costume changes and great music and really fun choreography.

Chapi is given the queenly treatment she deserves; she's as much the star of the revue as anyone else. The rockette with her in the center might be my personal highlight, and it's the perfect example of what I mean by both using and upending Takarazuka traditions. We've got typical rockette-style costumes, synchronized kicking, the works—but we've traded the high-pitched KYAA for YELLING ABOUT HOW ANGRY THEY ARE in unison with some really badass choreo. It's the perfect balance of respect and rebellion; it works because the rockette is such a standard part of our fan lexicon, and the small differences make us open our eyes wide. Crushed velvet kuroenbi. Ray Bans during the parade...

The duet dance also—passionate and angry and LITERALLY fiery, as Tama and Chapi dance and eventually descend through the floor with one long hard kiss surrounded the entire time by swirling flames. I mention that in case the flame effect (like the starlight during Maa's Chopin in HOT EYES) does not show up on the DVD, which would be tragic.

As beautifully and wholesomely as Tamakichi carried herself in Company she pulled out all the stops and slayed in BADDY. Dynamic (and dangerous) radiantly glowing top star. Miya is downright erotic.

Mayupon is just an alien, in the background, through costume changes, the entire time.

There was a fun amount of gender fluidity presented in sort of a nonchalant? way?? Like not the gratuitous otokoyaku-in-drag situation we usually get; paired with the free-flowing top 4 love quadrangle, it felt, dare I say, progressive.

I had an extra fun experience at my first viewing... TSUKI MATSURI! Tsukigumi has a tradition where one day per run (though I imagine not every single run) they all wear afro wigs in one scene and adlib it to hell and back. Since it was my first time and this did not seem at all out of place against the backdrop of BADDY I didn't even realize until after, but what lucky timing.

I can't wait for UeKumi's next show, and I went into QR and came out only with Tsukigumi bromides, I don’t know myself. 

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S1 Ep 37: Swapping Bodies OMG There’s So Many Bodies

The card hell card games continue, and Yugioh has decided to fall on old habits and hide everything under his RNG hat.

Yep, for the 27th or 58th time people have just completely forgotten what it means for Pegasus to be a psychic. Yugi’s also a psychic so how did...anyways...

Up to now I thought the hats were a random toss of the dice, but it turns out Yugi has to choose which hat and apparently this is information that Pegasus can just reach over and nab and so Pharaoh and Yugi do their favorite thing and just start freakin the heck out.

(read more under the cut)

So, the brain brothers decide to have a time out, which is a thing they can do now, where they hang out in this hallway between a vine covered wall and a Tetris map.

It’s a little unclear if this is all happening in a split second, or if Pegasus and Yugi are just staring at each other this whole time while Joey and Tea twiddle their thumbs. I’d like to think the latter.

I’m glad we finally see the inside of this kid’s head. I’ve actually wondered for kind of a while and I’m happy to see it is sufficiently weird. Too bad we only ever get to see this blue floored room.

To think that Yugi’s super annoying habit to keep a secret and lie to everyone he loves became plot relevant to beating the final boss.

Also it’s kinda weird that we put so much pressure on Yugi and Pharaoh melding brains together like for...so many episodes, for the real answer all along to have been “Just don’t.”

It’s enough to screw over Pegasus.

Joey’s eyes have so many different looks. Like I’d say this is off model Joey but have we ever had an on-model Joey?

Considering that this is alternate history Egypt, I’m guessing that Pharaoh’s inevitable backstory plot will be way weirder than normal Egypt--it’s just that normal Egypt set a pretty high bar.

Side note from the research I did into weird Egyptian folklore, there’s some dispute about whether or not the Pharaoh that drew ho-ho’s and twinkie’s wherever he had a battle was one person or 3 people, which is even more like our Pharaoh.

Also on your own time please look up the story about the Pharaoh and the piss if you do not know it already, it is the precursor to Cinderella in the weirdest way possible.

Overall, he still hasn’t said which Pharaoh he is and hasn’t given himself a name. Yugi just calls him “spirit” which is...weird, honestly. I don’t even know if he knows at this point, he’s been dead a long time and without a body is it even important?

Speaking of people that clearly have no freakin idea what their actual name is or just don’t feel like it’s important, the ghost living in Bakura is having an excellent day.

It’s OK, storyboarder, it happens to the best of us.

None of you took off your jacket while running up this staircase? No wonder it took them like 5 minutes to catch up.

I’m actually genuinely surprised Tristan ever caught on and that his mind hasn’t been wiped yet. Like, this is the longest he’s witnessed dark magic without getting erased. He’s improving.

Anyways, lets get some lazy animation in there, with this slowly moving monster on a shot that slowly pans out. Mm. The good stuff. That’s the good low-budget stuff I’m looking for.

Anyway, Bakura really didn’t need to bother with the Man Eater Bug because he decided to throw a pot at them. Yes, a pot. It wasn’t all that interesting to look at so I didn’t cap it but the pot has been somewhat a recurring card that just kind of always screws up your day.

It’s a pot.

Bro and I did a quick count just to make sure, and not counting people that came back to life, and not counting people who have been dead before episode 1:

the imprisoned card boys trinity + PaniK + Guy who got ritually sacrificed last night + these unfortunate mooks who were just doing their job.

We may have forgotten someone though.

As for Bandit Keith, he died in such a wacky way that he’s probably fine.

Pegasus is so bothered that he can’t read their cards, that they wipe out his little toon town and he gave every hammy villain ever written a run for their money in how poorly you can scream “nooooo” Like I genuinely enjoy Pegasus’s VA but damn that line reading: wow. He destroyed it. Like not in a good way but in a “that was the take you decided to use?” kind of way.

And I went to see if there was a Youtube recording, but typing in “Pegasus nooooo” got me a lot of fan videos instead. So, I thought to myself, you know what? I can record it, it’s like half a second and I have the software, I do art and stuff!

So I go to record it in OBS but the thing about OBS is that the “record” button and the “stream straight to twitch” button are of course right next to each other. Like clockwork, I accidentally clicked “Stream” on OBS and had a legit panic attack that the five people who follow my art-only twitch account would suddenly get an email notification that instead, I’m streaming the worst voice acting in Yugioh. Thankfully, twitch has a safe guard where it won’t stream unless it’s been longer than a few seconds so...phew.

Needless to say it didn’t make it to this review. Maybe later, but I’m terrified of making that mistake again.

After mourning the loss of his weird fanfic cards, he decides “Fine then! I’ll make a freakin shadow duel! Have fun!” and Pharaoh was like “Dammit, again?”

Bakura pulling an Office, looking straight into the camera and just nodding smugly at me that he will never have to explain to me how the hell he broke all the rules so far set up in the past 30-some episodes of Yugioh.

So Ryou (which is Bakura’s first name it turns out--I did a hair of google research but didn’t click on any pages because of spoilers. We’ll talk later about how no one is close enough friends with him to use his first name.) is kind of a weird guy, right? Like he’s got a lot of the Yugi problem where you don’t always know where one ends and the ghost in his brain continues. When they’re compared with each other like this, especially in an episode where Yugi has to be independent, it’s an interesting take on the same problem.

Both Yugi and Ryou rejected their spirits at one point, but the big difference is that Pharaoh is a lot more flexible, and kinda understands that to get the puzzle to work you do actually need two people. This whole duel with Pegasus would have been pretty moot with one person. As for Bakura, he’s decided to try going solo with some desperate conjoined brain-twins surgery, and I guess we’ll find out how well that works out for him.

So Tristan has to do whatever Bakura says for a while out of the fear of getting sacrificed to a pot.

Remember, canonically, no one has checked on Tristan and Bakura in about three episodes because they assume Tristan has extreme constipation.

Anyways, next week on Yugioh:

Will Bakura take over Mokuba’s body and get hair that is like Super Saiyan huge? Will Tristan throw Bakura over his shoulder WWE style like he did to Double Spike Mohawk Mullet Man? Is anyone going to fall to their death down this big tall tower? It’s just this tower seems really underutilized, and I’m not used to seeing a villain on a tower like this in a cartoon without someone getting Disney-deathed.

[aswithasunbeam]

Hey! I love your fics soo(get it Soo) much! Could you please make a fluffy A Winter's Ball/a night in Morristown Hamliza fic?I'd really appreciate it.

Ha! I love that! And I’d love to do more fluffy Morristown stories!! They’re one of my favorite things to write! I actually wrote a really long piece set in Morristown over on my AO3 account, which you might not have seen as I haven’t cross-posted here on tumblr. It’s called “A Winter’s Romance” and the overall vib is pretty fluffy, though there is some angst thrown in for good measure :)

Here’s a link and an except from the first chapter, if you’re interested!

[Read on AO3]

February 1780

“Is this your shirt?” Tilghman asked, digging through a pile of clothes that had yet to be laundered. His jacket had been discarded, his breeches were half undone and the shirt he had on had been untucked. All in all, he looked like a disheveled mess, which was unfortunate, as the dancing assembly was to start in less than an hour’s time.

Hamilton looked over at the bright white linen in Tilghman’s hands and shook his head. Not only was the shirt too large for him, but his clothes had all been mended and washed too many times to look that white. “Must be Mac’s,” he suggested as he yanked fresh breeches over his hips.

Tilghman frowned, looking around the room with an intensely puzzled expression. “What’s happened to all my shirts?”

Hamilton tried to stifle a laugh. “Would you like to borrow one of mine?”

“Yours would make me look like a chubby giant,” Tilghman refused.

Hamilton did laugh this time. “Just wear the one you have on, then.”

“This one smells.”

“Well, I don’t know how to help you,” Hamilton said with amusement as he pulled on his uniform jacket. He ran his hand over his chin and considered shaving again.

“I want to look my best. Do you know who just arrived in town today?” Tilghman’s eyes lit up with excitement. Hamilton shook his head, and his friend continued, “General Schuyler’s daughter, Elizabeth. We met some time ago when I was negotiating with the Six Nations. She’s twenty-two, now, and still unattached. She’s supposedly visiting her aunt, Doctor Cochran’s wife, but it’s obvious she’s on the hunt for a husband.”

Elizabeth Schuyler. The name conjured the image of striking black eyes and a warm smile. He’d met the young lady some time ago when he was in Albany trying to pry troops loose from the greedy hands of General Gates. General Schuyler had invited him to dine, although most of his family was away. Elizabeth had been at home, however, and she had more than upheld the Schuyler reputation for hospitality. He didn’t remember the conversation exactly, but he remembered laughing a great deal.

“And you’re hoping to oblige her in her quest?” Hamilton asked. Tilghman had just turned thirty-five that Christmas, so there was something of an age difference, but he doubted it would prove much of an obstacle if the girl was willing.

“She’s a lovely young woman,” Tilghman replied diplomatically. Hamilton took that to be a firm yes. “She’s traveling with Catharine Livingston. Aren’t you acquainted with her family?”  

Kitty Livingston’s name hit him like a swift kick to the abdomen. He’d been utterly infatuated with the beautiful heiress when he’d boarded with her family before he’d started at King’s. He’d gone so far as to write her a love letter. She’d rejected him in no uncertain terms. He was still trying to disentangle himself from Cornelia Lott after his disastrous meeting with her father. The prospect of a night with both Cornelia and Kitty made him feel vaguely ill.

“Ham?” Tilghman prompted.

“Hm?” He hummed, pulled from his thoughts. “Oh, yes. I’m very well acquainted with the Livingstons.”

“You wouldn’t mind entertaining Miss Livingston a bit, would you? Just so I might have the chance to speak with Miss Schuyler alone?”

Hamilton met his friend’s hopeful eyes and found himself nodding. What was a bit more humiliation and misery, after all, if it might bring his friend happiness?

~*~

Lively music and a roaring fire greeted Hamilton and Tilghman as they entered the hall where the dancing assembly was held. A table was set up in the corner with what passed for a feast in these conditions: two pots of stew, assorted root vegetables, and a very meager chicken that had already been almost entirely consumed.

“Colonel Hamilton,” Cornelia’s high voice came from just behind him.

He turned and saw that she had been waiting by the door. “Miss Lott,” he replied, bending low and pressing a kiss to her outstretched hand. “You’re looking well.”

“Oh, I’m very well, Colonel.” She gave him a tiny, hopeful smile. “I hope you are, also. I’ve missed seeing you the past few weeks.”

“I’ve been…very busy,” he said vaguely.

She nodded rapidly, clinging on to the excuse like a lifeline. “I thought you must be.”

An awkward pause followed as he searched for something to say. He didn’t want to raise her hopes, and he was still too embarrassed and stung to tell her about his humiliating meeting with her father. And what good would telling her do anyway, he thought; knowing would only cause a rift between her and her father. As he was standing there staring at her, the band struck up a new song.

“Would you like to dance, Colonel?”

“I…” He hesitated. If he danced with her, she’d think there was still hope for them. The only way forward he could see was to break her heart. Being cruel now would be kinder in the end, he told himself. “No, Miss Lott.”

Her whole face fell. She blinked at him, as if waiting for him to take it back, or to explain.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. Then he turned away.

He felt like a monster.

He spotted Tilghman, McHenry, Webb, and Richard Meade standing in a group near the food and he made his way towards them. Mac slapped him on the back companionably when he stopped beside him. Tilghman shook his head. “Poor Polly. Looks as though you’ve just torn her heart out.”

He refused to look back. Plastering the same fake smile he’d been wearing more and more of late, he said, “You know how it goes.”

“Onwards to the next conquest,” Webb laughed.

“That chicken didn’t make for much of a feast,” Hamilton commented, desperate to change to subject. The conversation mercifully turned to dreams of feasts after the war.

Tilghman tugged at his sleeve a few minutes later.

“Mrs. Washington is done speaking with Miss Schuyler and Miss Livingston,” Tilghman whispered, his eyes focused somewhere to the left. Hamilton followed his gaze and saw the two young ladies were standing by the fireplace, speaking quietly to each other.

Hamilton nodded for his friend to go first, and followed a pace behind as they made their way to the girls.

“Miss Schuyler, how wonderful to see you again,” Tilghman proclaimed as they approached.

“Colonel Tilghman,” Miss Schuyler greeted him warmly. “I did not know I’d be graced with your company tonight.”

Tilghman bent low to kiss her hand.

“Might I present Colonel Hamilton? He’s a dear friend of mine,” Tilghman added, gesturing back to him without turning around.

“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Schuyler when I dined with her family in Albany,” he stated, bowing and kissing her hand as well. When he stood, he found her dark eyes scrutinizing his face. He smiled tightly at her, sure she didn’t remember the meeting. She must have dined with the whole Continental Army by this point, with Philip Schuyler for a father.

He turned his attention to Kitty. “Miss Livingston,” he greeted, bowing to her this time. He then introduced Tilghman, who repeated the ritual.  

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Tilghman asked, his eyes glued to Miss Schuyler.

Hamilton turned his attention to Kitty. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve last spoken.”

Kitty nodded, her eyes tracking over his uniform and lingering on his rank insignia. “You’ve done well for yourself since then, Hammy,” she noted, smiling warmly at him. “I’m very glad to see it.”

He thanked her softly. Glancing to the side, he saw Tilghman had fully engaged with Miss Schuyler in conversation about her travels from Albany. He smiled and held out a hand to Kitty. “Would you care to dance, Miss Livingston?”

“It would be my pleasure, Colonel,” she agreed. As he lead her towards the dance floor, she leaned in to him and added, “I see Colonel Tilghman has wasted no time in staking a claim for my dear Betsey.”  

They shared a smile as they positioned themselves to join the dance.

~*~

His breath created a great puff of white smoke in the frigid air as he leaned against the porch rail. The music from inside was still audible, but dulled by the closed front door. There were torches glowing along the walkway that provided fairly good light, but hardly any warmth. Still, a moment of solitude was well worth braving the bitter cold.

Miss Livingston had quickly found dancing partners, lovely and eligible as she was. Cornelia seemed to have departed the party shortly after their talk. Tilghman was happily monopolizing Miss Schuyler. Everyone inside seemed paired off and content, leaving him free to slip outside.

He missed John. He missed having a dear, loyal companion, someone with whom he could talk and laugh. Someone to drive away his darkest thoughts on these cold, lonely nights.

He may as well get used to being alone, he thought harshly. No man was ever going to consent to having him for a son-in-law. Cornelia’s broken heart would be a warning to him to never attempt to love again.

The music swelled suddenly, then dulled again with the sound of the front door closing. He turned to see Elizabeth Schuyler stepping out onto the front porch. She smiled at him.

“Are you well, Colonel? I saw you stepping outside, and I was concerned.”

He forced another smile. “Quite well, thank you. I was just a bit warm from dancing.”

She nodded, then stepped closer to him, leaning against the rail as well.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she commented mildly, her face turned up towards the sky.

He followed her gaze, looking up at the nearly full moon and the bright stars dotting the dark winter sky. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “Though it is terribly cold.”

She laughed. “I’m from Albany. I’m quite used to the cold.”

“I wish I were,” he replied.

“I suppose you never had to deal with these kinds of conditions in the Caribbean.”

He nodded, then his brow furrowed. “Did you recognize my accent?”

“No,” she said simply. She glanced over at him and smiled again. The expression made her eyes sparkle, he noticed. “You mentioned you were from Saint Croix when you dined with my family in Albany.”

He cocked his head to the side, surprised. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s just, I know you must have dinner with officers all the time,” he tried to explain, hoping she didn’t think he accusing her of being rude or ill-mannered.

“That is true,” she laughed. “But you made an impression.”

He laughed as well. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

She gave him a considering look. “I suppose we’ll find out,” she said coyly.

He grinned and nodded.

A companionable silence followed, their attention turning back to the still winter night.

“Did you really come out here because you were warm from dancing?” she asked suddenly.

He looked back at her, and found he wanted to answer honestly. “No. I’ve been feeling a little low of late. And, due to some unfortunate circumstances, I had to hurt someone’s feelings tonight. I suppose I’m simply not in the merry-making spirit.”

Her expression was compassionate. She reached out a hand tentatively, laying it lightly on his upper arm. “I saw you standing out here from the window,” she told him. “You looked…lonely.”

“So you came to keep me company?” he asked.

She nodded as she removed her hand. “You can tell me if I’m intruding.”

He shook his head. “I’m enjoying your company,” he assured her.

She smiled again. A moment of silence followed, before she began to speak again, easily changing topics. “I was speaking to Mrs. Washington earlier. She was telling me about her work with the sick and wounded soldiers, and she promised to take me with her on one of her visits. I do hope I can make myself useful while I’m here.”

“I’m sure the men would appreciate your assistance,” he told her sincerely.

“Is there anything else I could do to help? Mrs. Washington told me you would know best what needed doing.”

He felt a flicker of pride at the compliment from the dear old lady. Considering a moment, he asked, “Can you knit? Sew?”

She nodded.

“We always need hats, mittens, scarfs and the like. And many of the men have clothes that need mending. That would certainly be a help.”

Her eyes dropped to his hands gripping at the railing. “Do you have any mittens, Colonel?”

He looked down at his chapped hands and shook his head. “I had a pair, but they wore out last winter. I haven’t had the chance to replace them.”

“I’ll knit you a pair first,” she said decisively. “From what I’ve heard, your pen is our country’s best hope of winning this war. Whatever would we do if you developed frost bite?”

“I’d be most obliged to you, Miss Schuyler.”

“Speaking of frost bite, I think perhaps we should go back inside,” she suggested. She chuckled as she looked at him. “Your nose has turned bright red with cold.”

He nodded. She turned and pulled open the front door, light and music pouring out. Looking back at him, she made a little motion with her head to urge him on. As he followed her inside, he felt a smile stretching his face again. A real smile.

Well, he thought, that was just…so inconvenient.

[justlurkinnothurtin]

The Tragic Tale of Emilie Agreste - Chapter 4

Full chapter! The rest of the story is on AO3 due to mature elements in this story. If you want to read the full story, here is the current chapter on AO3 and here is the story link.

On Monday morning, before the rest of the family woke for their days, Emilie snuck out of the house for the long drive to the theatre. The long drive gave her a chance to focus on an action and let her mind be blank. No worries, no nightmares, just her, the car and the road. She found parking quickly enough and had arrived fifteen minutes early. Not wanting to wait inside her baking sedan and taking Gabriel’s warning of arriving before eight seriously, Emilie took a walk along the city block. In basic trainers, jeans, and a tank op, Emilie felt like she could walk the streets unnoticed. She enjoyed the anonymity until her path brought her to the theatre door. She went inside and promptly at eight, Emilie knocked at the door of the closet. Once again, Gabriel opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Ms. Emilie, you came back.”

Emilie stood her ground. “I did.” When it became apparent that Gabriel would not move, Emilie spoke again. “Mr. Agreste, will you please move so that I might assist you?”

Gabriel sighed and moved, holding the door open for morning visitor. “Please come in.” As Emilie walked into the closet, Gabriel moved the doorstop into the doorjamb, keeping the door ajar.

Emilie noticed the changes to the long table. The piles of props were gone, put away or tossed depending on functionality. The accessories and clothing piles were half the size from Saturday as well. “I see you have been busy, Mr. Agreste. Do these costumes still need to be hung?”

“Yes, the remaining costumes belong rack J,” the dour costume maker replied. “You are allowed to call me Gabriel. You needn’t be that formal.”

A tinge of pink would have settled on Emilie’s face had she not already primed herself with blush. “I’m sorry. My sister made a comment, and I,” she trailed off, not wanting to reveal that she talked about him at the dinner table. It hit too close to the early years of school when Amelie and Emilie would come home with tales of which classmates were their boyfriends on the playground that week only to be replaced the following week for superficial, childish reasons such as liking biscuits more than cake.

A smile escaped Gabriel’s stubborn demeanour. “What comment did your sister make?”

Emilie spoke as she went to work, hanging clothes. “She might have said something along the lines of being overly familiar. The comment was out of line. Even Frederick told her nothing deserving of that description happened.” It didn’t occur to Emilie that she said anything revealing until Gabriel spoke.

He paused mid-hanging of another flimsy outfit. “You were discussing with your sister and her husband whether or not I was overly familiar with you.” He finished hanging the outfit and hung it on the rack. “Do you think I was overly familiar with you?” Gabriel partially hoped the answer was yes so he could have an out from keeping his volunteer busy. He partially hoped the answer was no so she could stay.

The tinge of pink grew to a distinct shade of pink. It was starting to peak through the makeup which was so carefully applied in the dim light of daybreak. “I do not.” Emilie moved to playful teasing to deflect from the embarrassment of the situation. “It was two against one, you see. Frederick was the deciding vote after Amelie decided that applying plasters was so intimate, one could only apply plasters to another adult within the confines of marriage or engagement at least.”

“Where does the line exist for first aid administration?” Gabriel openly mused.

“Probably somewhere between applying plasters and kissing bumps and bruises to make them feel better.”

The costume maker wondered how much blush he could get to show through her make-up by asking Emilie if she wanted a kiss on her finger to make it feel better. He ultimately decided against such things since a blush was not worth his job. They worked on hanging up the rest of the pile without discussion. As they got towards the end, Gabriel gave Emilie a warning on the time. “It’s already 8:45. You should probably make your way to the stage. James doesn’t consider anyone on time unless they are at least 10 minutes early.”

Emilie finished hanging up the last costume in her hands and responded, “thank you for the tip, Mr. Agreste.” She thought about it for a moment, and reconsidered. “Thank you, Gabriel. I’ll try to remember to use your first name.”

“You’re welcome. Good luck with rehearsal, Ms. Emilie.”

A grin spread on Emilie’s face as she mocked Gabriel’s opening lines. “You are allowed to call me Emilie. You needn’t be that formal.” As she headed towards the door, she asked one last question. “Same time tomorrow?”

“I’ll find something for you to do, Emilie.” Gabriel felt as if he was crossing line by dropping the miss, but the smile on her face when he said her name made him not care.

Emilie made her way through the theatre to the stage right before 8:49. More than half the cast was already seated, waiting for James to take the lead. Emilie found a seat next to Denise, who had been chosen to play Titania. Denise greeted Emilie with a question. “How did you get in? I didn’t see you come in the front door, and I thought maybe Cheryl scared you away with her hammy acting.” A low ‘bite me’ called from the other side of the theatre.

Emilie shook her head, and informed her new friend. “I came early and was helping out backstage.”

Denise gave her casted fairy a knowing look. “Is that what the kids are calling these days?

“What? No, I was helping Mr. Agreste hang up costumes.”

Denise dropped her voice down low. “Really, you were helping the Gabriel Agreste, the stern-faced costume man, hang up clothes?”

Emilie was perplexed by the Denise’s reaction. “Yes, and why are we whispering?”

Denise mulled over her answer before responding. “Even if Gabriel is not my cup of tea, I am well aware that he is a conventionally attractive person. I am also aware that more than half the women in this production has at some point approached him and been turned down. One woman has such a reputation for chasing after him, that at one point he had multiple copies of her costume ready to go because she kept coming with excuses for him to fix said costume. I don’t think any of them would be particularly happy that the new girl is getting cosy with the collective eye candy.”

Emilie did not have a chance to respond to Denise before the director called for the start of rehearsal. James explained that they were going to go through the entire play once before selecting sections to focus on. That was how he wanted to start every rehearsal, after warm-up exercises. Tomorrow during rehearsal, groups of performers would be called back to the closet to be measured for costumes and possibly given a costume to try on for adjustments. Lunch will be taken 12:30 to 1:30 every day. In four weeks when the show starts running, practices will change to make up for performing at night. During the run, the show starts 7 pm Wednesday through Saturday, with a matinée at 2pm on Thursdays and Sundays. Performers are expected to be in the Theatre and back stage 4 hours before every performance, except on Thursdays. On Thursdays when the theatre puts on two shows, then actors needed to be on set one hour before the first show. James requested everyone to get on stage so they could begin rehearsals.

Emilie asked Denise how measurements for costumes would go. Emilie had only been in very low-to-no budget community and school productions and had gotten used to purchasing or bringing in a costume for the show. She hadn’t gone through a costume fitting before.

Denise explained, “My Little Lamb, first it’s almost always grouped by gender, so tomorrow, most likely you, me, and all the other fairies will go get measured at once. We all strip down to our skivvies or a slip, and Gabriel takes our measurements while Nathalie writes them down. Usually Gabriel has a costume from a prior production that works or is close enough, and he’ll have you try it on. I heard we have a bigger budget this time for costumes, so everyone might be getting new costumes. After measurements are done you come back to rehearsal.”

Emilie fixated on the point of Gabriel taking the measurements. “Why doesn’t Nathalie do the measurements or let us provide our measurements to him?”

“Because she only assists Gabriel when James asks her to. Because I’m really not sure she know how to accurately measure someone. Because he’s very nit-picky and doesn’t want anyone’s vanity measurements. Because it’s literally in a room full of people so no one believes he’s going to cope a feel in front of that many witnesses. Because he’s the only one who knows which measurements he needs. There’s many reasons, just pick one.”

Every reason Denise listed was logical. It made sense. Emilie still dreaded tomorrow regardless of sense and logic.

[captainthane]

First Blood (Valiant Souls)

Disclaimer : this story will be a bit more dark than usually. If you are not used to this stuff, be careful by reading it ^^”

Claire was being closer to her seventeen years old. She was looking stronger and braver than before. She had been training her powers for a few years now. Fona was proud of Claire. She managed to learn how to use the special swords in a good way. Everything seemed to be well for them. They could find a calm place to live. A small village where people were accepting Claire. The fact she was happier decreased the grey color of her skin. She was more human than the previous years. She even befriended a kid there. They were playing and chatting a lot. However, something was bothering Claire. She noticed some people had disappeared the recent weeks and she didn’t know why. She was hoping it wasn’t a demon like Fona but Fona herself claimed no demon was in the area.

- Are you still lost in your mind Claire? (???)

Claire jumped a bit from hearing his voice but she smiled after that.

- Come on Alex. You know I love to daydream most of the time. (Claire)

- You are a curious girl but that’s why I like spending time with you. Have you heard about the disappearance of some villagers? That worries me. No one wants to talk about that and no one is trying to find them. I wish I could help. (Alex)

- You would put yourself in danger. Don’t do that okay? Please? (Claire)

The young man was blushing and accepted to stay out of trouble for Claire. He was glad to have a friend like her. He was pretty alone before. The only person who was also nice with him was Derrick. He was older than him but he didn’t mind hanging out with him.

- It’s getting late. See you tomorrow at the same hour? (Alex)

- Sure! Have a good evening! (Claire)

Alex was still wanted to search and to help his village about the disappearances. When it was the night, he walked in the direction of the place where the last victim was seen. He was searching for some clues. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice behind him.

- Alex, Alex, you are always curious about everything am I right? (???)

- Hi Derrick, I didn’t hear you coming. You got me, I wish I could find what happened to the people who disappeard. (Alex)

- Oh I can help you with that. I think I know where you can start your investigation. Follow me. (Derrick)

The two men walked in the forest and never returned during the night. When Claire woke up, she decided to wait for Alex. However, he didn’t show up. He was usually in advance.

- Why is he not here? That’s weird, don’t you think? (Claire)

- Maybe he got sick? (Fona)

- No her mother would tell me, she knows we are closed. (Claire)

As she was talking with Fona, an older woman came closer to Claire. She seemed upset and really worried.

- Claire, do you know where Alex is? I can’t find him anywhere in the village….(Alex’s mom)

- No madam, I have no idea where he could be. Did he say something last night? (Claire)

- He just said, he wished he could help the village about the disappearances….oh god………i hope he didn’t follow his idea….

Claire bite her own lip and ran around the village, searching for him everywhere it was possible. She then found some footprints outside the village near the forest. She decided to follow the path that was indicated the footprints. She walked for one hour and she arrived in front of an old hut. It smelled pretty bad. She came closer to the door and opened it. She was quiet and stunned by the scene she was saying.

- No….No….(Claire)

Lots of jagged bodies were around the room, blood was everywhere as well as bones. In the center, there was somekind of a wolf eating something. Claire recognised the body…it was Alex. She didn’t make a single move but the “wolf” heard her.

- Oh~ Another fresh food~ I didn’t expect it that soon~ You look tasty~ Really tasty and delicious~ (???)

- You….you…

The werewolf sneered and laughed terribly.

- Yes I am a werewolf and I can say Alex was truly tasty, i didn’t finish him yet. If you saw his face when I transformed and started to eat him. I enjoy that so much~ (Derrick)

These words were the ones he shouldn’t have said. Claire’s skin became grey, her clothes turned dark, her eyes was red and some horns appeared on her head. The werewolf was surprised, he didn’t expect that.

- What….what are you? (Derrick)

- You….You…YOU ARE GONNA PAY! (Claire)

As she screamed, her swords appeared and she charged the creature and hit him as hard as possible. He yelled and screamed with agony.

- Please, don’t kill me….I will leave the village, you won’t hear about me anymore….have mercy…(Derrick)

- Mercy?….Mercy?! DID YOU HAVE MERCY WHEN YOU KILLED ALL OF THESE PEOPLE?! No you didn’t…it ends now…I am avenging them…(Claire)

She striked him and slashed him in half. His blood covering Claire’s face and the room. Once the adrenalin passed away, once the situation was calm, tears came out from her eyes. She cried and the only thing she could hear was the voice of Alex’s mom “you monster, you demon! You will die for what you have done to my son, to us!”. It was time to run away….again.

In the facts post, I said Claire has a no killing rule but it doesn’t mean she never killed right? Well here you have her first true kill. I hope you will enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed to write it ^^. It was more dark than usual but i still loved writing it ^^.

Claire and Fona belong to me.

Valiant souls belongs to @superyoumna @hammie-heart @wolfwrathknight

[justinehudock]

When You Finish This Story, Just Remember: The Cat’s Name is Molly Sarlé

I wanted to make his first name Ammo, exactly like “what comes out of a gun” ammo. I really thought it sounded cool. As the child’s mother, that would make me The Gun—a nickname I knew would suit me to the ground, and that I could live up to, I knew—having a handle like that on him. Seeing as how, my little son, baby would-be Ammo, barreled through me as ammunition does its steely, swaddling “mother”. Dark and cold her interior may be, notwithstanding. It’s not important; a mother’s a mother’s a mother. 

But, my partner, and the other half of the sireage—they don’t like any term more intimate, isn’t that gross?—to would-be Ammo, hated the whole suggestion “'fiercely”. They said to me, “From Point A, all the way to Point O.” In fact, when I tossed up the idea, my partner responded, "I mean, holy shit, that should be illegal." And looked it up, too. To see if it was! Boy, they’d’ve been a real smug shit if it had been. 

It isn’t, obviously. Why should it be illegal to name a baby Ammo, especially a baby human, which’s got all those rights? Of course, it can’t be. Unlike license plates, we could have named him FUK, or B00B, or anything else that agreed with us. We could have given him your name, too, if we wanted, but we didn’t like it. No, Ammo’s no violation of the law, not just for the fact of having that name and the little sucker living with it, shooting through life and all of life’s unique barrels with that tacked to its bib. It’s just that a lot about the situation would hazard the illegal, apparently. I’ve been unfairly coerced to concede that — that there are a “number of issues” with it. Life as an Ammo’d be a “house of law waiting to collapse”, so my partner analogized, in the terrible, hammy way they have that I really — I almost can’t stomach it after a day at work. 

This is their own logic (I don’t buy a bit of it, for the record): you’d be like someone, I don’t have names, with a credit card number and chip frequency duplicator on hand; lying around the house. You may snort, the thing’s just a reader! or so my partner began, even doing the snort for effect, though it came out more like a snuffle. To be totally honest, I barely heard this speech, hardly even glanced up from my puzzle to watch their theatrics, which my partner was only doing to stomp all over my most favorite name. I was slurping up coffee like a pig to tune out whatever they were building to. But my partner went on, and I had only made a small cup.

It only recognizes numbers, too, they said. So you couldn’t even call it a good reader. I’ve got a young nephew on my brother’s side that can read back the alphabet in burps. And his younger sister, a niece of mine, can sing it back. Her elocution? Touchable like silk. With whole words thrown in, too! wonderful, delicious, like those dried bits of red in a fruit cake. But the credit card reader, it's just a mediumish, blackish box, sitting on the side table we use for desk stuff overflow, and sometimes the cat sleeps on it. You know the thing I’m talking about.

Like with Ammo, as a name, you can’t make a box illegal, if you’re just keeping it more like a fish, like we planned to, remember? Planned to feed it expired Coldstone Creamery gift cards and, for a snack, little slips of paper scrawled with different sections of pi? Not harnessing the box for its intended purpose, I mean. Never for anything immoral!

It’s the inevitability issue, though, with your friends’ credit cards, the visiting work guys’ credit cards, our moms’, their boyfriends’, more cards, plastic cards, thin plastic cards: they all start falling into the machine’s reader sleeve, mysteriously -- don’t look at me! Buttons get pushed, you’re being really Bond about it and only when they flush the toilet or wash their hands do you even start fiddling with the stupid slow piece of shit, so it’s all utterly inaudible. The whole maneuver is as silent as falling snow, I’m telling you. Quiet, I’m always quiet.

But, see, did you catch that? The cards would end up in the reader, despite your good intentions. All I’m saying is, illegality would always be on the sidelines, like, uh, the devil’s hands. Like using a permanent marker on flimsy-everyday writing paper, the mundane bleeds into disaster. The machine isn’t bad but bad things happen when it’s around. Was it Washington who said “anything that can go wrong will go wrong”? It was him, or some other guy with a wig. Any guy with a wig would know. And this, it’s just your basic black box, hardly more interesting than a shoe box, in my view. Any son of mine’d be a whole lot smarter, and more disposed to white-collar troublemaking, than that box, too. So, there’s the entire issue in a nutshell.

I really did want to name my little son Ammo, though. The craving shot through me in rounds: wake up, wham, Ammo. On the supermarket’s produce floor, squeezing Asian pears, sniffing Spanish oranges, picking Chilean peppers, kabloom! Ammo, mi amore. More bad than I wanted any idea original to my hormone-fermented brain, at that point; badder even than my incontrovertible but “really unfeminine” desire for a pregnancy body that resembled 2009 Chris Pratt’s. His thick physique that looked so warm, the perfect ward for growing a brawny Ammo, more evenly than all the other little boys in the world. But, me and my partner also knew our son should get the chance to see an airport sometime, as well as other, crowded public places important to anyone’s formative years. Dog parks, and fairgrounds. Ball places. That’s something my partner and I agreed on, that it was important to the rearing of any well-adjusted boy that he visit all kinds of environments, bustling ones and snoring ones, too, but to sniff around, learn the meaning of “horizons”, bang and bounce all the important germs so they don’t come sniffing around his immune system anymore. Tousle with the other kids and poke fun at the ones on leashes. But not choke them with their own collars, when their parents looked away. We’d tell him no-no-no.

Listen, though: if the boy ever got lost, and that can happen in crowds, you’d see how shouting his name—with alarm in your voice, because it’s not unalarming to lose a baby. It’s a parental thing.—wouldn’t please the immediate society too well. Wouldn’t please society in earshot, or the powers that be, too well at all. And we factored in letting him get lost a couple times as a child. It was important to us. No self-respecting adult I know was in constant parental purview as a kid. I know some people, and this is true, who, as children, were always near their parents in public spaces, and they’re in jail now. And, trust me, you don’t want to know the shocking sort of stuff they stole to get there. Adult prison! They don’t send you there for burgling righteous items, or for working under the thumb of right-minded Johns. There is no “wholesome” in organized crime. They share fewer than three letters, in fact. So, it’s all pretty disgusting. 

Yeah, the name idea was, as I said, eighty-sixed. My second and third choices, too, but I wasn't as attached to Bullet and Bomb anyhow. Once we crossed Ammo off the list, though, officially and everything and all that, black ink spilled & etcetera, etcetera, my partner picked up on my disappointment. They saw the little furrows—dents—developing in my disposition, like spooky UFO photos in a red room. I had begun to walk through the condo with my shoes on; and, when I made tea, I’d steep for four minutes, rather than the three that had always been my signature. My partner knew, now, just how much I wanted a little Ammo, barreling through the house, barreling through his school years, barreling through his SATs, barreling, barreling, barreling. Starting gymnastics, tumbling through that. Meeting the president, ultimately.

My partner, they aren’t the shiniest penny in the bank—they don’t hear euphemisms like you or I do, just regular sentences and snickering—but they are careful to notice these sorts of things. The little shifts of emotion in their other half. And that’s worth more in a partner than one hundred of the shiniest pennies! So, we decided on a compromise. Compromised on a decision. Turned back the odometer from a red-hot eighty-six to a chill, alright-everyone-take-it-easy forty-three, and the baby was given Ammo as a middle name. 

To keep the whole thing totally and definitely not a flag-raiser, we even made his first name Luigi. So Ammo’s tucked in there like any creatively bullshit, Italianate honorific. Sometimes people ask us about the spelling, and we tell them (and you’re just gonna scream over this) that it means “extra love” — because of the extra M. They believe it. So many people believed it, in fact, I started to doubt that it was a lie, after all. So I looked it up. 

Of course, you couldn’t fool the real Italians with that, because they know the pronunciation differences as a pretty basic requirement, but most people, they’re not Italians. And the ones who are, anyway, are so turned on by talking about their own families, and their own jobs as high school psychiatrists, and their own trouble finding this or that something-or-other from the old country, States-produced mozzarella that doesn’t taste like placenta—and oversalted, oh, Dio—or whatever, that they never say a thing about Ammo or his extra M. Never even heard a word we said to begin with. Fucking Italians. 

So we’ve got a little Luigi in the family. But everyone who loves him calls him “Ammo”. Except, you’ve got it now, when we’re in public. In public, he’s Luigi. To his acquaintances, and, it’s what he taps into the bowling alley’s keypad to track his climbing score. And what he told the butcher to call him, who saves the calf giblets we treat to our cat, Molly Sarlé. It all works pretty smoothly that way. Like “buffed marble,” my partner says (I got an attack of sneezes from that). But I have my Ammo. And, if he gets lost in any of those public spaces we’re always in, we have this system where we’ll shout “Middle name! Middle name!” to the nebula. And he’ll shout back, “It’s kind of illegal! It’s debatably illegal! It’s risky! It could induce a panic!” like our own family game of Marco/Polo. (You should hear him: Ammo’s cute baby voice, shouting those long, older-boy sentences so beautifully and articulately.) 

In that way, we find our way back to each other, with a big smile on my and my partner’s faces when we see our precious son in the crowd: his wonderful chubby cheeks shining like lead alloy; his bright eyes, gleaming and glowier than coppermines. God love that wonderful son of a gun.