#How she never wanted nothing but the best for Oz

[fun-twisted-tales]

Can I just talk about how Boq “Glad he’s heartless so he’ll be heartless killing her” Woodman, when he actually sees Elphaba die, looks like this?

Because it is not talked about enough.

[siolixz]

~ Veils of Crimson ~

Chapter 1

Pairings: oz cobb x reader (Carmine Falcone's daughter)

<chapter2> <chapter3> <chapter 4> <chapter 5: part 1>

Reader is the daughter of Carmine Falcone, she is young (19) when the beginning of the story happen, but nothing sexual between her and Oz at this age. She will grow and evolve as the story progresses, I wanted to explore the relationships between her and everyone else in the story in this chapter (besides Alberto). I was worried i made it too long now im worried its too short haha, next chapter are gonna be longer. Oz is still manipulative and scheming.

Story inspired by Driving Miss Falcone by (https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger)<- super good steamy story

It's a slow burn because THATS HOW I LIKE IT, yes there will be smut.

Enjoy, give feedback if u want xoxo

Warnings: mature language, smut (not in this chapter sorry), general teenage horniness.

Being the daughter of Carmine Falcone was, as many might say, easy. You went shopping every single day, you ate at the most expensive restaurants (and if you didn’t, you had chefs that would prepare everything your heart desired), you slept in the finest sheets. Compared to most young adults your age, you were born “full,” never having to worry about anything or anyone disturbing your peace or threatening your well-being.

Still, you were well aware of the things going on around you, even if your father or anyone else in the family, for that matter, usually just glossed over you. All of them opted to compliment how beautiful you were or how stylish your clothes were—blah, blah, blah. You understood that your father ran an organized crime syndicate, that he was respected, and that the clothes on your back and the food in your belly came from one thing only: blood money. But everyone seemed to be okay with it; I mean, who wouldn’t be, right?

You never saw anything weird or a crime being committed. Everyone—and I mean everyone—was well-mannered, spoke in a nice fashion, and you never had to ask for anything; everything was handed to you on a silver platter. You had a driver, for God's sake—someone at your beck and call who could drive you around wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

You didn’t have many friends. Those people you talked and socialized with? You couldn’t call them “friends.” They were all just bootlickers who thrived off having Carmine Falcone’s daughter near them; at least that’s what Alberto told you.

If you had to choose, you wouldn’t even go to those fancy-ass events that Sofia dragged you to every single time. She said that you two were women and that you were responsible for “keeping up appearances” and all that. To give her credit, she really made you guys quite the big deal. Ever since she took over her late mother’s organization, you’d grace the cover almost weekly, either because of something she did or some controversy a journalist would make up.

If you had to choose someone to spend time with, it was Oz. Sure, he was your driver, but he was the only person worth hanging around.

To start, he was funny. He always made you laugh, telling you the best stories from his childhood—either about his idol, Rex, or the sort of things he and his brothers got up to. It was a joy to be around him, at least for you. You always defended him when your uncle or your brother would make fun of his gait. Who the hell were they to talk? You never said that, though, because that was disrespectful, and you weren’t allowed to curse—well, you weren’t allowed to curse around family. Oz never minded; you were sure of that.

One year, when it was your birthday, Oz gave you the most gorgeous necklace. He knew exactly what sort of metal you adored, and in the middle was this very dainty diamond. Sure, it couldn’t have cost him a fortune, but it was the symbol that counted. The scandal that followed in the house afterwards was something to remember. You remembered telling one of the older girls there about the gift. That girl told Alberto, who then told your father. They didn’t know who it was from, but they knew it was a member of staff, and your father gave you an hour-long lecture about boundaries and how you shouldn’t have accepted the gift, ever. Sure enough, after two months, he forgot all about it; he had more important business to attend to. Oz apologized afterwards, when it was just the two of you, but you told him it was nonsense.

Your sister rudely interrupted your daydream when you arrived at, you guessed it, another press-infused dinner.

“Hey, you got your head in the clouds again, missy? We’re here.”

“Oh yes, I couldn’t figure it out by the cameras that are all pointing at us from outside, Sherlock. Thank you.” You knew your sister didn’t mind the bratty remark now and then; you were close—well, close enough. She was the first-born daughter, the second in command, really (Alberto was more like the “okay to the world choice” because he had a penis). You were the princess of the household; all you had to do was bat your pretty eyelashes and shine your big eyes, and all was forgiven, as long as you didn’t meddle in “grown-up business.” You were also a grown-up, but whatever. Oz had already made his way out of the car and toward the door.

“Remember, smile, be nice and courteous, and don’t talk to the press. Let’s go.”

As you exited the expensive vehicle, you thanked and smiled at Oz, who, in turn, smiled back. He went to the front, pushing anyone who got too close to you out of the way as everyone shouted things regarding your father or the organization. Your sister grabbed your hand and led you inside; your dad always told you to pay them no mind, so you never really listened to what crap they were yelling anyway.

As your sister was introduced as “the chairwoman of the Isabella Falcone organization” and stepped up to the stage, you felt a sense of pride looking at her. She looked very beautiful in her red dress, obviously picked by you. You knew she usually got quite uncomfortable during those public speaking moments, so you made sure to look her straight in the eyes, straighten your back (which made her straighten hers out), and smile at her. It was your way of telling her that she was a Falcone; she better make everyone in the room remember that. No stuttering on the stage or hesitation.

These dinners or lunches or whatever—they felt like they took an eternity, with the exact same thing being said at every single one: “We need to protect women; the Isabella Falcone organization made this and that. This is very important for women all around Gotham.” While yes, you were sure they helped some people—like the rich ladies who were all here—you were sure they all felt much better about their privilege after attending these sorts of things. When you passed around the East End, you noticed the women on the street: the ones with two kids following them, or the pregnant women who went to work to support their families and give their kids something to eat, the ones wearing high heels and patrolling the corners of Gotham. You often wondered if they benefited from the “help” your sister and the other gals here offered.

Well, at least the food was nice. Every once in a while, you would see Oz walking into your field of vision, and you made sure to get him a plate of the sweets he liked. Even if he rejected the plate most often, he never said no to you. Of course, no one did.

After your smart sister was done talking, everyone applauded. You were the first to get up, and everyone else followed suit.

Immediately after, you went to Oz, with the plate, of course. He rejected it, but you said you weren’t going to repeat yourself, and he took it. That was a sort of ritual you guys had. After Sofia dodged one pretty woman after another, she came over to you two, and Oz started to say thank you to everyone coming closer—a sort of “shut the hell up, go home.”

“This is the third luncheon this week. A lobotomy couldn’t take the edge off,” she said. You had no funny remark to that; you knew when to press buttons and when to keep quiet. After she was anxious, it was no time for funny remarks; let’s leave.

“Even when you’re helping people, you still gotta eat shit,” Oz said, trying to be funny. He should’ve said that to you, not her. They were both walking ahead of you now, completely ignoring your presence. Of course, he showered her with his attention, just like everyone else.

“Better than some jobs, though.” He handed your sister a cigarette—a very bad habit you hated. You always told her she looked like a man. Ugh.

“Like what—” she glanced over at you and shook her head in your direction. “—driving this princess around?” She had that all-knowing smirk on her lips; this was her payback for your smart mouth when arriving here.

Oz’s smile fell. “Oh, that’s not— you know what I mean.” Serves him right for kissing her ass.

“She’s messing with you,” you interrupted. “We know it’s a shitty job.” He better not think it is.

“You deserve better; I mean, we both do, but you have a dick, so at least you're eligible for a promotion.” He laughed at that. Your heart skipped a bit at the sound of his laughter. The few times you made him laugh were rare, and here she was, after not being around him for months, making him laugh. Why did she have to steal the show every time? He was yours; she had her own people to make laugh.

“I’ll get the car; you did good,” he said as he left.

“Thank you,” Sofia responded. After turning around, she let out a little laugh. “Wow, what’s gotten into you?” Okay, maybe you didn’t have the most pleasant expression on; maybe you were sulking a little. Maybe.

“This is the last time I give you a ride.” Now she really started laughing.

“Are you jealous? Well, your secret is safe with me, don’t worry.” She said this while still chuckling to herself. “I like men my age, who walk normally.” She whispered the last part as if it were some great shameful thing. “I see the way he looks at you; everyone does.” She winked.

What? Oz was your driver and your father's employee. Maybe sometimes you liked to pretend he was some rich older man, powerful like your dad—someone people respected when you walked together in any luxury store or when you ate together at any fancy restaurant in which he wasn’t supposed to eat, like, at all, when he was with you. But you weren’t going to walk in there and eat all by yourself, were you? That’s why you always had him by your side, and you didn’t call any of your “friends” to go with you.

You put your head down at that comment, cheeks red with embarrassment, and practically sprinted to the open door Oswald had waiting for you. You knew he was staring at you, expecting a smile and a “thank you.” You didn’t say anything.

You heard someone call after your sister, but you didn’t care; you just wanted to get home—like, now.

The road home was quiet, allowing you to think about what your sister said. Did you have a crush on Oz? You wanted to make him smile and laugh. Sometimes your eyes would linger on his big hands on the steering wheel, how he was an expert driver, how his hands would move as if caressing something—like a leg, maybe your leg. Maybe he would take his hands further up.

Okay, that’s enough. You could feel the tips of your ears flashing red and that familiar ache in your belly. Those thoughts were for later. With excitement coursing through your body, you swallowed a smile.

That night, at the family dinner, you let Sofia speak about the organization and how today was for her. Your eyes traveled up the walls to the big painting staring at you; they looked beautiful—the family, with Alberto’s and Sofia’s mom and Carmine. They really did. Carmine was engaged to your mom after Isabella’s death, but she passed away before they could marry, and you were only a few months old. Questions about the woman who gave birth to you were quickly dismissed and, to add insult to injury, redirected towards those living. You knew she was gorgeous, smart, and witty—that made you smile, just like you were.

After eating a bit of food, you asked to be excused, and your father swiftly granted it. He loved the fact that you didn’t linger for too long or ask any important questions.

The next day, you and Oz went to a jewelry store; after that, you bought some dresses. This time, however, he stayed in the car. You knew he was wondering if he had screwed up with something. I mean, yesterday he had two Falcones to deal with. You bought this gorgeous red satin dress; it was simple but elegant.

It embraced your curves so nicely, and even if you weren’t going to be allowed to wear it, the slit on the side might make your dad as red as the dress with fury. You still liked to envision it. Oh well.

The ride home was unusually quiet. Almost always it was filled with Oz’s voice or your laughter; now, only the occasional sound of the blinker was heard.

“I’m sorry if I did or said something to upset you, Miss Falcone. It wasn’t my intention.” That rough voice of his interrupted—usually, he called you by your name, but now it was replaced with the courteous nature of a regular staff member.

The truth is, you and Oz weren’t ever going to be together. It sounds crazy even thinking about it. This was a juvenile crush based on familiarity. He was just a driver; this was probably the highest-ranking position he would ever have. Now you could either be the laughing stock of the family, or you could get over it.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling well, that’s all, Oswald. Nothing you can do about it.” You refused to meet his eyes, and you knew he wanted to say something like “hey, look at me,” like he usually did when you were upset. The mention of his full name stopped him.

“I wanted to tell you that tomorrow night I will be unavailable from 4 PM to 7 PM; your sister has requested me.”

[book--wyrm]

I do love that Eve is like. The ultimate refutation of the way Oz chases his Rex Calabrese fantasy.

Because in a way, Eve really is the perfect recipient of this dynamic. She knows Oz and all his flaws so well—she knows he's a selfish, lying, backstabbing killer, she knows that he's fundamentally kind of an asshole, she knows that he is at minimum about 60% bullshit by volume at any given moment.

But she accepts him and his help, and offers her aid and advice in return, as little as he listens to it. She doesn't judge him, even defending him to Sofia after their breakup (we all got our shit, don't we?). She loves him, in her own way, enough to push back when Sofia derides the idea. She is loyal to him.

I cannot emphasize that last part enough. She is loyal to him. During her meeting with Sofia, Eve was fully, totally, a hundred percent prepared to take his location to her grave. She didn't choose not to go with him to save her own life, she chose not to go because she needed to stay to protect her girls.

And realistically that's really the best case scenario for the Rex fantasy, right? To be seen and known for all your scummy deeds and dark, vicious nature, and yet be loved and respected as a protector all the same? Maybe Eve wouldn't throw a parade for him if he died, but she'd pour one out for him with the girls and remember him fondly. We ate when he ate. He was a nasty sonuvabitch but he was ours.

And then.

Sofia comes. And all she has to do is tell the truth.

And the whole thing comes crumbling down.

Because Oz was never, and could never be the kind of man who deserves that respect and loyalty. Because it's only "we got each other's backs and don't screw each other over" as long as its convenient for him. Because Oz will do anything to have that Rex reputation, including undermining its very foundations.

Oz loved Eve, in his own way. Besides his mom and vic, Eve is the person he cares about the most. But he doesn't respect her. He doesn't value her priorities, only the affection she gives to him. So he screws over her girls, and hides it for a decade, and doesn't think a second about it because ultimately, he doesn't want to protect the people, he wants to be loved as a protector.

And once Eve, the person he has been the most Rex-like with for god knows how long, learns how deep the rot runs? She turns her back on him. Because as much as Oz wants to be loved like Rex, he can't help being anyone but The Penguin.

I also have to say, I absolutely adore that the person who does genuinely come closest to the fantasy Rex that realistically could never exist isn't Sofia—it's Eve herself.

For Oz, I eat you eat means sharing scraps off his plate with the people who fill it. For Eve, it means sharing in their meals. And when needed, sharing in the danger.

I think a worse, less thoughtful show would only really contrast Oz with his major rival, giving her the virtues he lacks and vice versa. And I have seen some reviewers and reactors talk as if like, Sofia sparing Eve earned her Eve's loyalty or something. Like Eve is switching from one mafia boss to another.

Nothing about that scene reads that way to me. Eve doesn't share Oz's location out of loyalty, or gratefulness. She doesn't owe anything to Sofia for not shooting her.

She tells Sofia because she gets it, gets how deeply Oz has fucked Sofia over. She tells her out of kindness, out of empathy, out of understanding.

And that is why she earns the Rex reputation, and Oz only borrows it.

[rodanhoax]

Jaune: *Wielding the relic of destruction* It's over Pyrrha! Give me back my son!

Pyrrha: Don't you mean, "our" son?

Jaune: Pyrrha... y-you look so different.

Pyrrha: I did a little something with my hair. And my lips.

Jaune: Are those thigh highs?

Pyrrha: So you noticed those too?

Ironwood: Okay Jaune, take the shot.

Pyrrha: What do you think of them?

Jaune: I uh... um-

Ironwood: She's standing right there, Jaune. Take the shot.

Pyrrha: Do you like my open bust dress~?

Jaune: Oh god yeah.

Qrow: What the hell is wrong with you?!

Port: Blast this harpy!

Jaune: I'm sorry guys, b-but I cant.

Port: The shrew has been forged from brimstone.

Qrow: Translation?

Ironwood: He's saying she's an evil clone.

Jaune: I hear ya. Counterpoint:

Jaune: She's really hot.

Qrow: Damn it Arc!

Port: Reject women! Embrace huntsmanship!

Ironwood: Can't you see how evil she is?!

Pyrrha: I'm going for the goth girlfriend look.

Jaune: Okay guys, I know she's an evil clone... But, she is the mother of my child. To be honest, this situation is confusing as hell for me. I... I'm tapping out.

Qrow: Tapping out?

Ironwood: You're a huntsman, you can't tap out.

Jaune: Dude, I'm tapping out.

Port: What would Ozpin think of this treason?

Jaune: The professor?

-Flashback-

Ozpin: You're like a son to me Jaune, I trust you with my very life. I want you to know that I keep a gun in hidden inside my cane. It's always with me Jaune. I sleep with it. I dream of it. You can never be too careful around these students-

Jaune: It's not working, he... keeps talking about guns.

Ironwood: Guns?

Jaune: Yeah.

Qrow: That doesn't sound right.

Pyrrha: Are you sure this isn't his evil clone?

Jaune: He kind of hinted it was for... self defense?

Port: Guns are nothing before my axe!

Qrow: Isn't your axe also a gun?

Port: Silence!

Ironwood: You don't think the professor actually used it do you?

Jaune: Do I think the professor shot someone? No, of course not. That's like totally ridiculous. Besides, we would have heard about it.

Pyrrha: He could have just wiped your memories.

Jaune: What?

Pyrrha: He could have shot someone then wiped everyone's memories about the event. With his magic it would have been easy for him.

Jaune: This is a terrifying thought.

Ironwood: Don't listen to her Jaune!

Pyrrha: Join me Jaune. The Grimm Queen needs a king.

Jaune: Not gonna lie, Grimm Queen is kind of weird, but i'm in.

Port: Step away from her you fool!

Jaune: I'm kind of bricked up at the moment.

Qrow: Don't worry Arc, I know this ain't easy. That's why I offer myself... as a sacrifice. Do what you want to me Pyrrha, make me your freaky sex puppet for all I care. Just let Arc go!

Port: What a noble gesture!

Ironwood: He is truly the best of us.

Qrow: Tie me up. Slap me. Step on me! It's alright, my ego ain't that big. Just leave the kid out of this!

Jaune: I know what you're doing.

Qrow: You ain't gotta thank me Jaune. Y'know... I really shoulda said this sooner, but... but you're like a brother to me!

Jaune: You've always had a thing for her.

Qrow: Oz would've been proud of ya, kid. I know I sure as hell am.

Jaune: You can't just live out your sick fantasies with my fake goth girlfriend!

Port: Your words can no longer reach him... His heart is set.

Ironwood: We shall remember you, Qrow... We shall remember you.

Qrow: So Pyrrha... How ya wanna do this? Should I take off the cape now, or-

Pyrrha: Sorry, Qrow, but you're a little old for my taste. Not to mention a furry.

Qrow: Furries deserve love!

[lowkeyhollland]

it'll be a wednesday

peter parker x reader "it'll be a wednesday & i'll be going into this coffee shop" can u tell i have a coffee addiction

Peter groaned when he accidentally spilled an iced coffee behind the counter. He grabbed paper towels to clean up the majority of the beverage on the floor before grabbing a mop to clean up the rest of the area. The bell above the door rang and Peter mentally sighed. His morning wasn’t off to the best start; a spilled coffee, ten minutes late to his shift, and now it felt like a morning rush. 

“Hi, welcome in,” his voice trailed off once his eyes landed on you. You smiled acknowledging him before reading their menu. 

He patiently waited by the register for when you were ready but couldn’t help but stare; at how your head was slightly tilted to the side causing your hair to fall over your shoulders, messing with the case on your phone, popping it in and out of its place. Peter ignored the other customers who had walked in shortly after you, taking their orders on autopilot. He watched as your eyes lit up when you read their seasonal drink special and walked a few steps forward, your eyes still locked on the menu so you knew you couldn’t mess up your order. 

“What can I get started for you?” Peter followed his unofficial official script. 

“Uh, hi! Could I get a medium iced Nutella latte, please?” Your voice was hypnotic to the brunette boy. He thought he could listen to you talk all day for the rest of his life.  

“And what’s the name?” He took out a Sharpie and wrote down ‘16 oz. iced Nutella’ on the plastic cup. 

“Y/n.” He smiled at the name as you watched him write it down, even smiling to yourself when he spelled it correctly. 

“Alright, Y/n. I’ll have that right out for you.” He walked away after you paid and you found a table off to the side to sit at while you waited. 

This was your first time in this coffee shop, and you are still trying out new places. You took the whole place in; the warm fairy lights hung around the building, the cream-colored walls with local artists’ paintings, couches in the corner with games on a coffee table for others to play. 

Peter called out your name, a small blush crept onto his cheeks when he saw you walking towards him. He knew it meant nothing, you were just another customer. But oh how he wanted to see you shyly walk toward him with a smile on your face every day. 

“Thank you…” your voice trailed off, eyes scanning anywhere for a name tag. 

“Peter!” He beamed. 

“Thank you, Peter,” you smiled at him one last time before grabbing a straw and walking away. “Have a nice day!” You yelled as you walked out the door, causing butterflies to stir in Peter’s stomach. 

His day just got so much better. 

– – –

It had been a week since you had walked into Peter’s coffee shop. He had lost hope that you would ever show again making up scenarios on why you never came back, but he knew this was delusion at its finest. 

It was early afternoon and the morning rush had finally died down. Peter was in the middle of making a matcha when he heard the bell ring. He looked up for a quick second and caught a glimpse of your hair. 

“Uhhh matcha for… Ashley!” Peter’s eyes flickered between the drink in his hands and you, barely able to read the name. 

“Thanks, cutie,” a blonde girl walked up to Peter, winking at him as she took her drink out of his hands, fingers slightly brushing up against each other. Peter’s ears turned pink at the nickname, giving her a polite smile. 

“You’re welcome.”

“So, when are you off? I’d love to get to know you more.” Ashley was eyeing Peter up and down while he shifted uncomfortably. 

“I’m not so sure, just, you know… whenever?” The blonde girl gave Peter a weird look.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you around, handsome.” Ashley spun on her heel and walked out, the bell ringing above her. Peter exhaled and wiped away sweat he didn’t even know was there. 

“So, are you that bad at flirting or are you too nice to tell someone you’re taken?” You asked Peter once he was in front of you. His face turned red, smiling & looking down at his shoes to hide his face. 

“I- uh- just wasn’t interested.” 

“So, bad at flirting.” You smirked at the brown-eyed boy noticing how red his face was getting from, what you assumed was, embarrassment. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he playfully rolled his eyes and you giggled. “So, what can I get for you today?” 

“An iced Nutella latte, please!” Peter’s face lit up as he recognized your order from last time. 

“Medium?”

“Yes, please.” 

“And what was the name?” It was Y/n. Peter already knew because that name had been ringing in his head for the last seven days. He wrote it down as you responded to him, doodling a little smiley face next to it. 

Peter quickly got started on making your drink, looking back at you now and then. You looked up from your phone when he called your name, walking towards the boy with a smile on your face. 

“Thank you so much, Peter!” You exclaimed while his ears turned pink when you remembered his name. 

“Y-You’re welcome, Y/n.” Peter grinned, noticing you remembered his name. He watched you walk away, but you quickly turned to face him. 

“Oh also,” you started and Peter leaned in. “How late are you guys open?” 

“Are you flirting with me?” You let out a laugh at his response. 

“No, you’d know if I was flirting with you,” you smirked at him. Though he hates to admit it, his heart broke a little when you confirmed you were not. “I just love the atmosphere here. It’s great for studying.” You continued to smile at the boy.

“We’re open till midnight.”

“Really?! Why so late?” Peter shrugged. 

“I’ve never really thought about it. I’m guessing it’s cause we’re in a college town, which gives students a nice place to study and do group projects.”

“Cool. Well, I’ll see you around, Peter.” You winked at him before walking away and his cheeks flushed pink. 

– – –

The next couple of weeks, you came into the coffee shop often. Conveniently, Peter had been working most of the time you came. He had your order memorized like the back of his hand, but sometimes you would take him by surprise and order a muffin or a bagel. 

The bell rang and he smiled when he saw you walk in. It was his favorite part of all of his shifts. Sure, he had a few regulars that he loved talking to, but the small talk between the two of you has slowly made its way to one of the favorite things he looks forward to nearly every day. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/n!” Peter beamed. 

“Hello!” You smiled brightly at him, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater. 

“The usual?” 

“Yes, please.” Peter put in your order, doodling another smiley next to your name on the cup. He took you in as you tapped your phone on the card reader. 

“I like your outfit.” He complimented. It wasn’t anything much, just an oversized cream-knitted sweater with a short denim skirt paired with brown high-top Converse. You shyly smiled and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, a small blush painted across your cheeks. 

“Thanks. This skirt just came in the mail today, I hope it isn’t too short.” You pulled it down a little even though your backpack was hung low enough to hide anything. 

“It’s cute, I love it.” Peter smiled as he continued to stare at you. He started to think about how if he finally had the balls to just ask for your number. The outfit you would wear if he took you out on a date during this fall season like for a pumpkin patch or even a haunted house. Would you lean into him when you cold—

“So… my drink?” You asked, snapping him out of his daze. 

“Oh! Right, right. Uh, I’ll get started on it.” You giggled at how flustered Peter was when he almost dropped the empty cup. 

“You are fucking delusional,” Peter mumbled to himself as he made your drink. 

You found a table near a window to get started on some homework. You set up your computer and notebook, put on headphones, and started on your homework. Indulged in your work, you didn’t hear your name being called and practically jumped out of your seat when Peter tapped you on the shoulder. 

“Holy shit you scared the crap out of me,” you exclaimed. Peter laughed and set your drink down. 

“Next time, maybe don’t be blasting Red by Taylor Swift.” Your face flushed as red as the cover of the album. 

“How did you…?” 

“I could hear it. You know, you can destroy your eardrums by playing music that loudly.”

“And you know I simply do not care.” You smiled smugly at the boy and he just laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Talk to me when you’re wearing hearing aids at 40.” You playfully rolled your eyes at the smirk plastered on his face. “Enjoy your latte!” When he walked away, yelled back at you leaving you a smiling mess. 

A few hours had gone by and you were still hunched over your homework. A yawn escaped your mouth causing you to drop your pen, laying your head on your arms on the table. You felt someone nudge your arm so you looked up only to be met with chocolate brown eyes. You took off your headphones and gave him a confused look. 

“Here, on the house.” Peter handed you a coffee cake muffin and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. Or maybe it was the hunger. 

“How’d you know this one is my favorite?” 

“You’ve ordered it a few times,” Peter scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “You just looked like you needed something.”

“Are you saying I look bad right now?” You raised an eyebrow and his eyes widened. 

“No! No, no. Not at all. I mean like you just— I mean you were falling asleep and—“ You laughed and he joined in with you. “I just thought it would help you focus on… whatever you’re doing.” He took a quick look at your work, all the scribbles and numbers in your notebook looked like a foreign language to him which took him by surprise because whatever had numbers involved, he normally understood. 

“Thanks, it’s very much appreciated.” You took a bite from the muffin, relaxing a bit. 

“It’s no problem. What have you been working on? It’s Friday, shouldn’t you be having fun tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood but you just rolled your eyes. 

“Bro don’t even get me started. It’s my accounting homework. We have an exam coming up and I need to finish this if I wanna go out tonight.” You looked at your work and shuddered. Just the sight of it was repulsing to you. 

“You’re in accounting? You don’t strike me as a finance man— uh woman.” You let out a dry chuckle and shook your head. 

“Correct. I’m not. I’m in business marketing, but one of the required classes to even get into the business school is accounting. It’s absolute death.”

“What do you want to do with your marketing degree?” Peter asked, taking the seat across from you. 

“I’m not really sure yet, the field is so broad. I just like making things pretty.”

“I can see that,” Peter gestured to your notes filled with colorful pens. You giggled and shook your head.

“It just helps me understand what’s going into which account, that’s all. But in all honesty, with my degree, I think it would be so fun to work in social media or the fashion industry. Ooh! Or maybe even do the marketing for a tour for like Taylor Swift or something. That would be everything.” Peter listened to you intently and you felt yourself become a little shy of the attention. 

The two of you ended up talking for a while, finding out where he goes to school and what he’s studying for. You’ve always loved your small talks with the cute barista, but this was another level. You admired how he looked with the sun hitting his brown curls perfectly while it was setting. He looked unreal but in a good way. 

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be working?” You glanced at the clock and noticed you had been sitting and chatting for thirty minutes. His ears turned pink and he looked down at his hands. 

“I actually clocked out when I gave you your muffin.” He sheepishly smiled at you and all you could do was smile. 

“And you are so, so sweet for that. Thank you so much! But don’t you want to go home? I feel so bad, I’m sure you’re tired. I don’t want to keep you away from anything.” Peter’s heart warmed at how thoughtful you were of his time, but he felt bad that you felt bad

“No! You’re not keeping me from anything, I promise. This was really nice.” He gave you a reassuring smile. 

“Oh good, good. Well, I was thinking of heading out because looking at my notes is giving me a headache and I think I would rather die than look at any of this anymore today.” 

“We can, um, walk out together? If you want to, that is, unless you have somewhere to go then–”

“Yeah! Yeah, no I would like that. And there’s less of a chance of me being kidnapped with a cute guy walking with me.” You bit back a laugh as you watched Peter’s face turn red. Once you had packed up all your stuff, the two of you headed out the door into the chilly autumn evening. 

“Do you guys have fall break coming up?” You asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater. 

“Yeah, I think it’s next week.” Peter had no idea what to do. What do you mean he’s walking with his crush, specifically, seeing her outside his work? He just stuffed his hands in his pockets and ignored the desire to hold your hand. 

“Same! Are you doing anything fun?” 

“Not sure, probably just gonna go home and spend time with my aunt. I’ve been so busy with work and school I haven’t had a lot of time to swing by.” No pun intended, Peter thought to himself.

“Oh, that’s so sweet. So, you’re from around here?”

“Yeah! Are you?” You were about to respond until you saw a familiar face running towards you. 

“Y/n! Oh my god! Hey!” It was one of your suitemates, Sophia. The two of you hugged while Peter just stood awkwardly to the side. “Did you see my text?”

“Ugh, no. I’m so sorry! I had been studying all day.” You pulled out your phone to find her text.

“It’s all good! Well, our favorite frat is throwing a party tonight. We’re all gonna go get ready right now.” 

“Oh my god! I neeeeed to go!” You smirked at Sophia. Peter watched the entire interaction, just smiling and nodding his head. “Oh! This is Peter. Peter, this is my suitemate, Sophia.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Peter reached his arm out and they shook hands. 

“Is this the cute–” Sophia started but you smacked her arm to stop, sending her a glare. 

“Thanks for walking with me, Peter. We gotta go, though. I’ll see you soon?” 

“Yes! Yeah, I’ll see you soon, Y/n.” You bit back a smile and waved goodbye to him. Peter watched as you and Sophia walked away, smiling a bit until he realized: he didn’t even ask for your number. 

– – –

Peter was working another afternoon shift, which he didn’t mind at all. He was still a little upset that he didn’t get your number, so he made himself an iced Nutella latte so he could wallow in his sadness over the greatest fumble of his life. The bell rang but Peter ignored it, popping a lid over the plastic cup and grabbing a straw.

“Peter?” He recognized that angelic voice anywhere. Turning around, he saw you fidgeting with your hands at the register. Your hair was thrown up in a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with black sunglasses on.

“Hey!” He put the drink down before he had even gotten a sip and ran up to the register. 

“I have the worst hangover ever,” your voice barely above a whisper. Peter quickly slid over the latte he made for himself to you. 

“On the house, because you look like you need it,” Peter bit back a smirk. It was hard to see your expression with those big sunglasses on, but he could imagine you rolling your eyes by the way you bit your lips to hold back a smile. 

“You are an angel sent from heaven,” you praised the boy, drinking the smooth, sugary liquid.

“So I’m guessing you had fun last night?” Peter wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“I fear I become a whole other person when drinking Pink Whitney.” 

“Damn, what happened?” 

“I don’t even remember, I blacked. I guess I made out with one of the frat guys, according to my friends. Oh, and I threw a drink in someone’s face. I don’t know.” Peter was unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t a huge party person so he couldn’t really relate to any drinking experiences, but he also didn’t know how to respond to you making out with a guy. 

“Is this the reason why that’s your ‘favorite frat?’” Peter asked, using his fingers as quotations to quote Sophie from yesterday. You let out a dry chuckle and shook your head. 

“It’s our favorite because the guys in it are actually the most stupid people I’ve ever met. I mean, last night, they literally set up a slip ‘n slide down their stairs. It’s so fun to watch,” you swirled your coffee with the straw, reminiscing moments from last night. “You should come with us next time!”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not really a ‘party’ person,” Peter avoided your eye contact while your lips formed a line. “But,” Peter’s tone changed. “Maybe I’ll go, just for you.” Your face lit up, nodding in silent confirmation of those unofficial plans.

“When are you off?”

“Are you flirting with me, Y/n?” 

“Maybe,” you said, your voice was airy. Like clockwork, Peter’s face turned red and you just smirked at him. 

“I’m off in fifteen. If you wanna wait, we can, uh, you know, walk–”

“Yeah! I’m down,” you smiled at the boy before walking away to sit at your usual table, waiting for the cute barista. 

And that’s how the next few weeks were. You would get your coffee and sometimes Peter would give it to you for free (those were automatically your favorite days), you would wait for him to get off work, and then the two of you would walk home together. Peter would tell himself every day that it was the day he would finally get your number, but one of you always had something urgent to get to once you had to go your separate ways. Last week, your suitemate’s cat ran away. A few days ago, Peter had a Spidey emergency where he just ran off. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t waiting for Peter to finally ask you out. He consumed your mind, despite you never hanging out outside of the coffee shop. The two of you talked about your schools, the classes you were taking, and just random stories on your walks home. He would even help you with your accounting homework while he was on break or if it was slow. He was so endearing and kind to you, but you were waiting for him to make the first move. 

But soon, those weeks turned cold fast. You hadn’t shown up at his coffee shop in a week and a half. Peter was starting to worry that you died or something, searching for you while on patrol and mindlessly staring out the window, hoping you would walk in. 

– – –

It was a cold, winter day. Peter made himself a hot chocolate to wallow himself in his sorrows after not seeing you for so long. He was starting to beat himself up for never asking for your number, in fear that he wouldn’t ever see you again. He didn’t even know your last name to search for you on Instagram. 

Christmas had passed and the new year had already begun. He had all these daydreams about the two of you spending the holidays together, but you never showed. He started to think that maybe you found a new barista to flirt with and you and your new boyfriend had babies together already. 

Even Peter’s coworkers had noticed his mood drop. When you started to go to their coffee shop frequently, his entire personality was a lot brighter. He smiled more and hummed while making everyone’s drinks. But now, he would just stare out the window, grieving the loss of what never even began. 

Peter drank his hot chocolate while watching the snow fall outside from behind the counter. Some buildings still had their Christmas lights up, making the city feel more homey than ever. 

“Welcome in,” Peter mindlessly announced when he heard the bell ring. He hadn’t bothered looking over, assuming one of his coworkers would take over the register. 

“Wow, I’m gone for like a month and that’s all I get?” Peter whipped his head around so fast he could have gotten whiplash. 

“Y/n!” He ran around the corner to hug you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling into the hug. “Where have you been?”

“Missed me that much, pretty boy?” You laughed as he playfully rolled his eyes to hide his blush. Peter walked behind the counter again so he could take your order, but he took you in. You were wearing a maroon beanie and a white winter coat over your big knitted sweater. 

“Aren’t you cold?” He referred to your ripped jeans. 

“Not really,” you just shrugged. 

“The usual?”

“Yes, please!”

“You still want it iced?” Peter raised an eyebrow at you and you nodded your head. 

“Yes, oh my god. I’ve been craving this drink for the last month!”

“You’re crazy to want an iced drink in this weather.”

“Call me whatever you want, but I’m feening for this drink.” Peter laughed at you when you took out your card, prepared to pay. 

“So, where have you been?”

“Oh! I went home for break.” You said it so nonchalantly like you didn’t leave Peter alone and depressed for the last month. 

“You’re not from around here?” He questioned you. 

“No. I could’ve sworn I told you I was gonna be gone. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!” You pursed your lip out and Peter just gave you a sad smile. 

“It’s okay, not like I missed my favorite person or anything.” Your eyes widened and you could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle when he walked away to make your drink. 

As Peter was making your latte, he knew he couldn’t risk going no contact with you again. He grabbed a Sharpie from the register and quickly wrote down his number next to your name, hoping you would notice. 

“Y/n!” He called out. You smiled at him as you were walking up, grabbing the drink from the counter. 

“Thank you! I gotta go, I already have assignments to start on. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah! See you later, Y/n.” He waved and smiled at you. You gave him one last wave as you walked out the door, your back pushing it open. 

Peter went the rest of his shift high on adrenaline, making the best drinks he’s probably made since the first day you walked into the coffee shop. He clocked out and grabbed his backpack, walking out into the cold. He felt his phone buzz from his coat pocket, taking it out to see it. 

hey pretty boy :)

Peter was smiling and giggling the rest of his walk home. 

[loveshotzz]

I have a pretty good one awhile ago but I don't ever see myself writing it.

Reader and Eddie are good friends, Argyle drops by his trailer to buy, and he ends up flirting with the reader. Later reader and Eddie go to a party, Argyle is there, and in sure you know where it goes from there

Argyle x fem!reader

You can call me names if you call me up

Warnings:18+ Weed dealing, weed smoking, mentions of drinking, slight mentions of hellcheer? (eddie has a crush and we make fun of him for it) kissing, semi public fingering (f! receiving)

Word count: 5.8k

beta’d by @superblysubpar

Authors note: This is my first ever Argyle fic! Thank you @sleepy-princ3ss for letting me write this! I had a lot of fun this one but it’s scary to write a new character so let me know what you think! I also had a good time writing Eddie as our best friend who doesn’t want to fuck us. Wild right? Still, there’s lots of Eddie in here too 💕

The summer heat always feels extra sticky inside Eddie’s trailer this time of year, the stale breeze that floats through his cracked window does nothing to cool you down. Thumbing through the worn covers of the records Eddie keeps in his room you hum along to the last few chords of Ride The Lightning. When the covers of Back In Black and Blizzard of Oz stick together, you grimace as you pull them apart. A crumpled cut of a babe from a Heavy Metal Magazine is the ‘glue’ that was holding them together.

“Eww Eddie! What the fuck?” god, your best friend was gross.

Clumsy loud footsteps bring him to the entrance of his room, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, his face flushes an even deeper shade of red when his eyes zero in on what you’re glaring at.

“I - uh,” coughing nervously, he scratches the back of his neck, the chain wrapped around his wrist sliding down his arm, “I don’t - I don’t know how that got there.”

Scoffing with a roll of your eyes you examine it a little more closely, careful not to touch it. The blond hair and the big blue eyes were a dead give away why this had to have been his favorite.

“She kinda looks like Chrissy don’t you think? Like if she got a metal makeover or whatever you’d call this,” snorting when his face turns into a tomato, his own glare takes over his features when he narrows his eyes at you.

“Why are you even snooping through my records, this one just started?” blinking quickly with embarrassment he looks like he’s ready to explode and you’ve never been more pleased with yourself.

Opening your mouth ready to bite back with something that you were sure was going to send him over the edge, the sound of three quick knocks followed by a single fourth one cuts you off before you can even start.

“Who’s that?” confused at his lack of communication with anyone crashing your hang out, he snaps - gesturing for you to step away from his records before he answers you.

He’s halfway out his bedroom door with you quick on his heels when he finally does.

“Jonathan and his friend from Cali are here to pick up real quick,” groaning at the sound of Jonathan’s name, Eddie laughs loudly before signaling for you to shut up with a finger to his lips.

It wasn’t that you hated Jonathan, he was just always such a downer when he’d join in on your smoke sessions.

Opening the door when you cross your arms with a nod signaling you’ll behave, he turns his charismatic Munson charm up to a ten with a wide grin.

“Byers,” giving him a slight bow, he extends his tattooed arm wide inviting them in, “Byer’s friend.”

You see Jonathan first, who gives you an awkward small wave and a tight lipped grin, lifting three fingers you give him the same energy.

“Oh hey man, the name’s Argyle excited to see what kinda weed you got out here,” Jonathan’s cute friend that follows him in was not what you expected as he clasps his hands together rubbing his palms excitedly stepping through the threshold.

Chestnut hair longer than Eddie’s sways as he walks in, the top of it hidden by a flipped bill green cap. Its smooth texture makes your hand twitch, you’re almost positive it’d feel like silk against your fingertips. A big dopey smile graces his full pink tinged lips as his already bloodshot brown eyes meet yours when he finally turns to see you in the hallway.

All the loud colors and clashing designs on his clothes makes the corners of your mouth tug up. Curiosity piqued, you throw him a more flirtatious wave, fluttering your lashes for good measure.

Eddie rolls his eyes from behind him catching onto your antics, but Argyle looks like he’s been turned to stone, frozen in place as he takes in your barely covered frame. Leaning a shoulder against the wall you watch his eyes trail up the uncovered expanse of your legs till he hits the frayed ends of your jean shorts, your spaghetti strap tank top gives him the perfect view of the curve of your breasts barely hidden beneath the thin fabric. Sweat beading off your heat kissed skin.

Clearing his throat he shakes his head when he feels his jaw go slack, glancing worriedly at Eddie who’s already too busy rummaging around the living room looking for his trusty metal lunch box.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just my partner in crime,” waving a dismissive ringed hand in your direction as he digs behind the couch Jonathan just got settled on, Argyle’s face falls slightly at the nickname.

That still didn’t stop him from watching you push yourself off the wall and walk to the kitchen island, sitting yourself on the cleared spot on top. Legs moving to the beat of the music still bleeding out from the speakers in Eddie’s room, you knew he was completely transfixed on you as he rocked back on his heels.

“Got it boys!” cheering himself on loudly, it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Only you would lose your lunch box full of drugs Munson,” winking at Argyle after you roast your best friend, his smile turns shy when he looks away.

“Bold of you to insult me when you smoke for free,” squinting with threatening eyes, he flips the lid open, the metal connecting with the wood of the coffee table in a loud clunk.

Sticking your tongue out at him he scoffs before turning his attention towards Jonathan pulling out two different bags of the new strains Rick had just supplied him with.

Argyle watches you both with confused eyes, unsure what to think of your banter as he feels the shift in your stare. The heat of it makes all the blood rush to his cheeks when he dares to meet it. Waving him over, you remind him to actually finish walking in. Eyes going wide at the realization, he looks down as he walks over to stand in the space right next to you.

Leaning his back against the formica countertop, your knee brushes the side of his arm with every small kick of your dancing feet. He smells like the kind of weed that makes you feel bad for whatever Eddie’s about to sell them and a hint of an earthy toned cologne. Dark eyes lifting up to yours, his breath catches in his throat when you meet his gaze instantly.

“Sooo, how’s it going?” purposely nudging him this time, you get a smile to finally break across his nervous face.

“It’s uhh- it’s good, Jonathan’s mom is super nice. Her cooking is shmackin,” giggling a little, he told himself it was because of the lingering effects of the weed they smoked on the way here, not because of the way you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you listened.

“Oh yeah, dinner at Joyce’s is always a hit. She really is the sweetest,” eyes crinkling in the corners when you grin at him, he was even cuter this close.

“How long are you visiting?” resting your chin on your shoulder when you look up at him, the height difference is still noticeable despite your advantage. His cheeks turn bubble gum pink at your flirty questioning.

“Just for a few weeks, I don’t want to put them out too much you know? She’s got a full house over there with everyone back,” you catch a hint of sadness in his mellow voice. He missed his best friend, that was more than evident. The thought of only seeing Eddie a few weeks out of the year sounded miserable.

“So you and Jonathan huh? How’d that even happen?” The difference in their personalities was astounding, but even you had to admit that Byers came back from California a little more relaxed. Meeting Argyle you’re starting to figure out why.

“Ahh yeah, dudes was like having a total meltdown at school one day about some stuff with Nancy, I felt bad you know, he looked like someone kicked his dog.” Glancing over at his friend he laughs at the memory.

“So I just showed him the ways of Purple Palm Tree delight and the rest was history.” Smirking proudly when he looks at you, his eyes briefly drift towards your lips curled up into their own grin.

“Finally! Someone got Byers to chill out!” Your praise is loud enough to get a side eye from Jonathan and a laugh from his cute friend.

“It’s super nice of you to come all this way to visit Argyle, I hope you make the most of your time here,” sweetness drips from your words making his eyes grow as big as saucers when he catches the slight invitation hidden inside them.

Jonathan finally speaks loud enough for the whole room to hear, snapping your attention away from the pretty stoner boy.

“Are you guys going to the party at Rick’s tonight?” shoving the bag of weed he just bought in his back pocket, his beady eyes dart between you and Eddie.

Argyle’s still in his own world and Eddie’s got a front row seat to his completely smitten gaze dead set on your face. Despite being annoyed with you all afternoon, you’d always been a good wingman when he needed it. Lips pulling up in a mischievous smirk he wiggles his eyebrows at you before answering.

“We are!”flipping the lid to his lunch box shut with obnoxious force, you’re truly shocked he hasn’t broken it yet with his need for dramatic flair.

The sound of metal clanking loudly snaps Argyle out of whatever lovesick daze you already had him in from just from batting your lashes and showing a little interest. His eyes connect with Eddie's, a sheepish look taking over his face from being caught openly gawking.

“We are? what part-“ Eddie glares at you before cutting you off.

“The party I was literally just telling you about before they got here,” he looks pointedly at the boy shuffling his feet next to you.

Argyle’s eyes stay fixated on the dirty carpeted floor doing his best not to stare, completely oblivious to the way Eddie was trying to help him out, not scold him.

Glancing over at the cowering boy, it’s like a light bulb flashes on top of your head when you realize Eddie was trying to help you get laid.

“Ohhh that party! Sorry, stoner memory you know?” bumping your shoulder with his, your lips twist up in a grin when the chocolate of his eyes meet yours, “Totally going”

The look on Argyle’s face is hard to read as a mixture of excitement and fear cross over his features at the same time. Shifting uneasily, he keeps looking at Eddie from the corner of his eye but he can’t stop the smile that slowly spreads across his soft lips, big pearly whites flashing at you.

“C-cool, I’ll totally see you there,” coughing as he scratches the back of his neck before quickly turning his attention to Eddie, “And uhh- you too man, I’ll uh see you there too!” the last part comes out loud enough to be a yell, his nerves making his voice shake.

“Uhhh, yeah man. For sure,” Eddie’s tone is laced with confusion, eyebrows raised in question as he looks at Argyle like he’s growing a second head.

Jonathan looks at his friend with wide eyes, his cheeks turning rosy from embarrassment from his outburst. Shaking his head, he stands up with a pat on his thighs - giving the universal gesture for ‘it’s time to go’

“Alright, well this got awkward. I think we’re gonna head out, we’ll see you guys tonight,” beckoning his friend to follow him towards the front door, he steals one last look at you before almost tripping over his own feet following Jonathan, flashing you a lopsided grin.

Shutting the door behind them Eddie turns to you with a smirk that you want to smack off his face.

“Look if that’s what you’re into -“ you throw a stray Readers Digest at Eddie before he has a chance to finish teasing you.

“Oh? Would you like him more in a pleated skirt waving some Pom Pom’s for Jason and his goons?” jumping off the counter you go for the jugular, your smirk growing when you get the same hard glare from earlier in his room.

“Listen, Caspian likes who he likes. I’m just the guy behind the wheel,” hands raised in mock defense, you snort rolling your eyes walking away with crossed arms.

“Eddie, your dick isn’t the Prince of fucking Narnia,” his boisterous laugh booms over the music and your glad he can’t see the way your lips twitch up at his antics, butterflies making their way inside your stomach at the thought of seeing Argyle’s goofy smile again again.

——

You’ve always hated parties, especially Reefer Rick parties. Messy and way too loud, it wasn’t just the usual crowd at Harrington's, dodging leering stares around every corner, you cling to Eddie’s arm as a deterrent.

“I don’t know what you were thinking wearing that skirt to Rick’s,” laughing at the permanent look of disgust that was stuck on your face as the two of you weave through the crowd, you turn your head up to stick your tongue out.

“You’re gonna give that poor kid a heart attack,” Eddie shakes his head when he sees the Cheshire smile that takes over your face as you approach the makeshift drink station, “Death by bone - Byers!”

Eddie’s outburst makes you jump when your eyes meet Argyle’s from over the keg on the dining room table, the stoned grin on his face faltering when he sees your arm wrapped tightly around Eddie’s. Big brown eyes only grow bigger when he gets a glimpse of the expanse of your legs and another thin tank top covering your chest like earlier, leaving little for his imagination.

The rosy color comes back to his cheeks when you let go of Eddie as you approach with a smile that seemed to be reserved just for him pretty on your glossed lips.

“Hey Argyle,” breathy and smitten, your own cheeks heat up when the corner of his mouth turns up, lopsided just how you like.

“Hey - wow, you look - wow - yeah you look gorgeful,” stumbling over his words, Jonathan looks exasperated with his best friend already, “I mean gorgeous, err — um beautiful.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows in a greeting at you before taking a sip from his red solo cup, doing his best to ignore the stuttering mess next to him as he greets Eddie with their dude shake.

Argyle catches Eddie’s passive stare and it only seems to make him more nervous.

“Hey man, you look, you look uhh great too!” stammering a little less, his voice raises a few octaves borderline yelling just like in the living room earlier.

“Careful Argyle, keep smooth talking me like this and I’m gonna think you want me and not my friend here,” Eddie winks with a dimpled grin spread wide across his face before he scopes out the scene of the party. Zeroing in on a home base on the couch in the living room that sat miraculously unoccupied.

“Think I’m gonna post up, you know what they say ‘When in Rome’,” he gestures with his head to the spot to Jonathan, “Wanna join? I got a joint with our name on it.”

“Isn’t Rick gonna get pissed at you for selling at his house?” finally tearing your eyes away from Argyle who’s openly gaping at Eddie, you look up at your best friend.

“Pffft, please. It’s not like he’s not going to see the fruits of my labor, it’s fine, trust me. He’s probably already plastered and passed out on his waterbed anyway,” shrugging off your concern he looks at Jonathan expectantly.

“You good with that buddy?” clapping a hand on his friend's back, Argyle’s brown eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie, repeating the words “my friend” like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Yeah, he’ll protect me from all the creeps won’t you,” grabbing his hand, the heat of his palm is an instant comfort against yours. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look up at him from under your lashes. His cheeks turn the color of cherry blossoms when he finally meets your stare, squeezing your hand gently, he looks back at the two boys finding his nerve.

“Yeah I’ll protect this pretty little princess with my life man,” saluting your best friend, Eddie raises his eyebrows seemingly unimpressed before turning back to Jonathan.

“Ready?” ignoring Argyle’s pledge you snort at Eddie’s casual bitchiness.

“Yeah, let's go. Look, be cool man, don’t take anything anyone here offers you, got it? I’m not taking care of you again like that time you ate the mushrooms you found in the woods,” Jonathan looks a lot like the guy you’d always known talking to his friend like he would his little brother with a finger pointed in Argyle’s face.

“There'll be no mushroom consumption on my watch, Byers,” mocking Argyle’s salute, your antics earn an eye roll from Eddie knowing damn well if the offer was given to both of you, you’d fold.

“Alright! You kiddos, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Eddie grabs Jonathan by the shoulders aggressive enough to have his beer slosh over the lid and you were almost positive that annoyed scowl would be stuck on his face all night.

Watching them till they both got lost in the crowd of bodies, you and Argyle finally dare to face each other. The air between you thickening now that you were alone, and he was still very much holding your hand.

“Do-“

“How-“

It was like a cheap rom com the way you both went to talk at the same time, cheeks heating up as you both look at the ground, a new shyness taking over. Squeezing his hand you encourage him.

“You first,” soft and sweet, you swear you his pupils dilate from the way you look at him.

Argyle gets the same expression on his face Eddie does when he’s forced to talk to Chrissy when she comes to buy weed for her friends. He was silently hyping himself up. Straightening his shoulders he clears his throat before the smile that made your stomach do flips graces his kissable lips.

“Can I get the pretty lady a beveregino?”

A stumbling drunk someone knocks into you before you have a chance to give an answer. Flying into his chest he lets go of your hand to grab at your hips, helping you regain your balance. The slurred apology falls on deaf ears when you and Argyle lock eyes from this close, chest to chest his fingers dig into you just enough to notice.

“I’m not much of a drinker, more of a stoner. Wanna go by the lake? I stole a joint from Eddie before we left,” grinning with pride at your sticky fingers, his lips twitch up, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Woman after my own heart, hell yeah! Let's blow this popsicle stand,” turning you around he keeps his hands on your hips, lips coming close to your ear from behind, “Lead the way my weed smoking goddess”

Goosebumps rise, dancing across your skin at the feeling of his warm breath fanning down your neck as you lead him through the crowd. His hands never leave their spot from your hips, their grip tightening as you get closer to the sliding glass door that takes you out to Rick’s backyard.

Stepping onto the wooden deck he finally lets you go, there’s just a few stragglers outside smoking cigarettes too lost in their own conversation to notice the two of you. The air has lost most of its humidity, leaving the night in a post heatwave glow. The stars gleam bright next to the moon in the clear night sky, reflecting off the water it lights your way as you walk hand in hand down to the lake. Stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye the whole way down, you catch him doing the same thing, both of you giggling every time your eyes meet.

Finding a place nestled next to Rick’s boat house, you were far enough from the party for the loud music and constant chattering to seem like a faint noise in the background. The laps of the water hitting the shore take center stage as you curl your legs under your thighs when you sit like the princess he claimed you to be on the plush grass.

His knee brushes yours when he plops down Indian style next to you, his curious eyes follow yours as you look down at your exposed cleavage. Digging into your bra you pull a perfectly rolled joint with a smug smirk on your face, twirling it around in your dainty fingers he can’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

“I thought chicks only did that in movies, that’s some secret spy shit,.” the smile he gives you makes you want to squirm, “Crafty and beautiful.”

Not used to the kind of confidence he was giving you alone like this, you bite your lip to try and hide your smile as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“Please, Eddie’s just oblivious,” scoffing, your face feels like the hottest part of the day from words that were sweeter than the ice cream cone you had earlier at Benny’s.

“I think it’s a little bit of both,” winking as he leans back, eyes watching you the way every woman dreams of as you search for a lighter.

“I think Eddie still has the lighter,” the cute pout that pulls at your bottom lip has his fingers twitching.

Holding up his index finger he starts digging through his multicolored jogger pockets.

“No need to worry, I’ve got us covered beautiful,” pulling out a bright yellow Surfer Boy Pizza one, he hands it to you with a lazy lopsided grin.

“My hero,” leaning forward as you snatch it, you dare to press a chaste kiss on his cheek as a token of your gratitude.

His eyes go wide enough to see the whites behind them and that perfect kind of smile that pushes against his cheeks is almost brighter than the moon hanging in the sky.

Scooting closer when you flick the lighter, the breeze that washes over the lake has other plans when it keeps snuffing the flame out. After the third failed attempt Argyle scoots closer, shoulders and thighs touching his big hands cover yours as a shield.

“Thank you,” daring to look at him from this close, his eyes meet yours almost instantly, catching the way they flutter down to your lips and how he has to wet his own after.

Tearing your gaze away, you focus on lighting the joint, the flame catching almost instantly with his help. Twirling it around so it burns even, he lets his hands fall at the same time as you. The palm of yours landing on the top of his, your eyes meeting again as you hollow out your cheeks taking the first hit. He just smirks, not moving an inch, the heat of his body is warm against your skin from this close.

The silence is comfortable as the two of you pass the joint back and forth for a while, fingers brushing purposefully with every hand off. Leaning completely against each other with pinkies hooked between you, he’s the one that breaks the silence when you hit the middle of the joint.

“So have you lived here your whole life?” plucking at the grass next to him he looks up at you with soft eyes as you finish filling your lungs.

“Yep, pretty much. My parents lived in Indianapolis till I was three then moved here for a quieter life,” snorting at the cliche of it, you pass him the joint, “What about you? Always been in California?”

“Yeah, it’s just me and my mom. She’s like the best ever though, so, you know I don’t really need anyone else but her,” taking a big hit of the joint so he didn’t have to elaborate further, you changed the subject.

“Would you ever leave? Like, move somewhere else?” it’s your turn to pick at the grass, the nerves of getting to know a boy getting the best of you.

“What? Like here?” smirking at you when he hands you the joint, your cheeks heat up at what he’s implying.

“No! Don’t move to Hawkins, there’s nothing here,” smiling around the end of the joint you take a hit to distract yourself from his playful stare.

“I don’t know, it seems pretty cool to me so far,” you don’t miss the way his pinky squeezes yours after the sentence leaves his mouth, eyes looking at you pointedly daring you to catch on.

“You wouldn’t survive the winters, I’m sure of it,” looking at him from under the hood of your lashes, your teeth tug at your bottom lip barely hiding your smile when you hand him back the joint.

“What about you? Do you wanna move?” his eyes glaze over when he takes his hit starting to reach the end of it, your bodies buzzing with the high and the excitement of a new crush.

“More than anything, Community College is just really cheap out here and I don’t know what I want to do yet, so the plan is to move anywhere that's not here after I figure that out,” sighing at the thought of finally leaving Hawkins you meet his gaze when you feel the chocolate of his eyes on you.

“I’m going to Community College too! And I also don’t know what I’m doing! Look at us two peas in a pod man,” he’s loud with excitement sending you into a fit of giggles and you lean even deeper into his side as he hands you the joint.

“Just need Eddie hurry it up, he finally graduated but he still has to take two summer school classes. We’re supposed to do this college thing together,” he catches the small frustrated pout you try to hide.

It’s quiet for a minute, the elephant in the room coming back as the sound of the water and crickets fill your ears.

“So you and Eddie like never..?” not bold enough to meet your side eye after the question leaves his mouth, you smirk as you take another rip. Exhaling slowly before handing it back to him.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids so naturally, we tried kissing once. It happened the summer before Junior year,” sticking your tongue out like there was a bad taste in your mouth, the memory makes you shudder, “Too weird, we’re too close.”

Argyle just nods trying to keep his poker face as he takes a hit when he hears that Eddie has actually kissed you before, but you catch on quick.

“Besides, despite the metal appearance,” leaning closer like you were about to indulge in a secret you whisper, “He likes cheerleaders.”

Earning a snort from him the smoke of his inhale flows freely out his nose and mouth as he chuckles at your antics.

“And I like pizza delivery boys, especially cute ones from California,” the weed settles enough to make you feel bold and you watch him freeze at your flirty words.

He slowly meets your gaze, bloodshot eyes scanning your face for any trace of humor but he’s only met with the hungry look in yours staring at his lips, and he swears your brows furrow with want when your tongue glides across wetting your bottom lip.

“Yeah?” his voice cracks when he puts out the remainder of the joint into the ground, angling his body more towards yours.

Nodding, you squeeze your hooked pinky with his silently begging him to give you what you want.

Taking your cue, he leans forward close enough for your noses to touch, the hesitation to fully commit has your lips brushing feather light against his. You can taste the last of the joint as you breath each other in, grabbing a fist full of his shirt when you’ve finally had enough, you close the gap with a satisfied hum when they mold instantly with yours.

It feels like the Fourth of July behind your closed lids, still a month away but the fireworks you swear you feel blur your vision when you lose yourself in him. Begging for more when your tongue swipes across his bottom lip, he groans low when he gives you everything you want. Tongues and teeth clash together desperate like years of pining finally come to an end despite it being less than a day, maybe it was the weed or maybe it was him, but it feels like it’s everything you want and more.

The initial intensity dwindles as you start to move lazy and slow against each other. Taking his time, he savors every giggle and gasp he pulls from you. Your hands find their way into his long hair, it’s even softer than you imagined when your fingers run through it. His hat falls off when you give it a gentle tug at the base of his neck.

Working up enough courage to pull you on his lap, he swallows your moan when you feel the bulge in his pants. The lace panties you wore just for him and the thin material of his joggers is the only thing between you and what’s underneath. Your skirt sits bunched up at your hips with his hands and you can’t help it when you rock against him, feeling every inch of him against your clit.

Pulling you down closer, his lips take a break from yours to make their way over your jaw and down the curve of your neck. Nipping and sucking against all the sweet spots that sit nestled just behind your ear. A high pitched whine escapes you when he applies just the right amount of pressure with his teeth, smiling against your skin, his nose nudges against your earlobe, a soft “Yeah?” sending your nerves down your spine.

His hands make their way to your thighs squeezing at the soft fat before his fingertips drag their way across the expanse of them finding their new home at the curve of your ass. Toying with the sides of your underwear you collect his lips again with your fingers holding onto his chin.

Rocking with a little more force when your tongues meet again, his hands grip you harder making you bite his lip in response.

“You- you can touch me,” your voice is quiet when you dare to say the words out loud, his lips stopping abruptly against yours.

“A-are you sure?” his eyes look black even in the moonlight when they meet yours from over the bridge of your nose.

Nodding against him, you encourage his hand as your lips meet his again, pulling your panties to the side he groans loud into your mouth when he’s met with your slick folds coating his fingertips.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re real,” staring up at you, he’s mesmerized at the way you shudder when the pads of his long fingers rub circles on your clit.

Mewling when he lets the tip of his middle finger poke at your entrance, you dig your nails into his broad shoulders when he finally pushes one in, your velvet walls gripping him hard, pulling him deeper. His hips jut up at the sensation only adding to how good it all feels.

“G- god Argyle don’t - don’t stop please,” your demand comes out as a whine when he adds a second finger, curving them slightly brushing that spongy spot inside of you.

“I like that, I like when you say my name like that,” the pad of his thumb meets your bundle of nerves as you start to shamelessly ride his hand, the need to cum taking over all the bashfulness from before.

“Yeah?”

Nodding against the side of your face he nips at your jaw before taking your lips, the strokes of his fingers becoming more deliberate.

He manages to say, “Do it again” between kisses as he curves his fingers once more, getting him exactly what he asked for.

Kisses turn sloppy as you get closer to your release, your hands leave their place on his shoulders to dig at the roots at the nape of his neck, tugging the way that earned you a moan the last time.

He increases the speed of his fingers, the sound of how wet you are is loud enough to be embarrassing but it only makes him twitch inside his pants as he thrusts up, your mouth falling open against his.

“I’m gonna - god - I’m gonna cum,” pulling his hair hard enough it should hurt, he only pushes himself deeper in response, the new intensity sending you over the edge.

“Yeah? Good, come on let me feel it,” his voice is hardly recognizable the moment those words come out of your mouth. Deep and thick with want, it has your thighs shaking as you drench his fingers, face buried in the crook of his neck you let your orgasm wash over you like a storm.

“Jesus, you look like an angel right now,” his voice comes out like a whisper, almost like he’s saying it to himself.

His hips stop their movements as his fingers slow their pace when he feels your body start to calm down, pulling them out despite the fight of your walls they keep fluttering around nothing from the aftershock.

Your gasp is quiet against his skin when you don’t feel so full anymore. You’re too stoned and too tired to open your eyes when you hear the sound of him sucking his fingers clean.

“You’re sweeter than fucking pineapple, I swear,” chuckling at his own revelation your lips tug up into a smirk finally having the strength to meet his gaze.

“You like pineapple?” you had no idea the question would elicit such a strong response until his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Do I like pineapple? Do I like -“ Jonathan’s panicked voice rings out over the lake interrupting the out of body experience Argyle was about to have about fruit.

“Come on guys, Rick kicked Eddie out for selling at his party!”

[gilverrwrites]

Hii! It's Sugar Daddy (Arkham) Oz anon again! I promise that after this one I will leave you alone 😭 It's nothing overcomplicated, just reader looking for aftercare and Oz realising in that moment that she genuenly loves him. Something nice and sweet (well, as sweet as it gets with Arkham Oz lol). Reader's personality is the same from my previous request! You can skip the NSFW part if you want since I'm more interested on want comes afterwards, though if you wanna write anything about it I won't mind at all! Thank you again! <3

What You Want

Arkham!Penguin/Reader No Oz anon, please don't leave! Gotta have someone to thirst over Sugar Daddy Ozzie with!

1K Words CWs: No smut, but mentions of sex, Sugar Daddy/Baby dynamic exhibitionism, minipulative reader, mild angst. Petnames: Kitten, F!Reader 18+ MINORS DNI

He might be getting on in years, might be wearing an extra few pounds, but nobody could accuse him of not being able to keep up with the youngins’. He’d put you through the wringer, that was for sure.

A self-satisfied smile spreads across his face as he looks at you now, half his age at most, strewn out across the bed, still panting, and shaking, swollen and bruised in the places he’d stretched and squeezed at, bending you in ways you didn’t know could be bent. You stare back at him through lids you can barely keep open. Eyes that drive him crazy. Eyes that would make him hard all over again if he still had it in him.

He’s about to crack wise, say something about ‘you askin’ for more? Don’t think you’ve got it in ya girl’ when there’s a knock on the door. Neither of you reach for the comforter, you know too well how Oz likes to show you off, especially when he’s made a mess of you.

A moment later Candy pokes her head through the door, she does well to keep a straight face, despite her wondering eyes. She’d been in your place not too long ago, but she didn’t have your spunk. Didn’t know when to push and pull, when to bat her lashes at just the right time to wrap him around her finger. There wasn’t a soul in this city who could make an honest man out of him, but so far, you’d come closest.

“Phone call for ya boss. Says it’s important.” She declares, casually tossing the phone to him when he gestures for it and making her exit. It was one of the boys, muttering on about a planned shipment coming in, and a Robin being spotted in the area. He’d be fuming, irate that not one of the people he paid knew how to do their damn job, if your bloody eyes weren’t on him, now fully awake, all big and admiring. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you want him for more than just his money.

“Alright, alright, bunch of morons. Keep your knickers straight, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

At that you pout, pushing your bottom lip out. “Awh, why the sour face, kitten?”

“I just thought you’d stay longer.” You continue to skulk, batting those long lashes as you crawl closer to him.

“Go have a bath or somethin’, I’ll be back later.” He informs you, shuffling off the bed and heading for his clothes before you can start peppering him with those sweet, ever-so-tempting kisses that are sure to keep him where he is, basking into the limelight of your affections like some love-sick schoolboy. “Go hang out with the girls, I’ll give ya some cash to get food with.”

“I don’t want to hang out with the girls.” You speak so eloquently, yet so belligerently, kneeling up on the bed, showing off all the good. “And I don’t want food, I don’t want any of that. I want you, Oswald. I want you to stay here with me.”

Oswald? You never called him Oswald. It was Oz to your friends, Mr Penguin to his boys, Ozzie when you wanted something, and Daddy when you got it, but never Oswald. Oswald was reserved for the serious stuff. You hadn’t called him Oswald since the night you’d called him sobbing down the phone about a nightmare you’d had. Why you’d called him for comfort was a mystery, but he’d done his best to soothe your crying, talking with you until you’d fallen asleep with the line still open.

“Why?” He can’t help the confused tone that slips out. He’s done the bit he spoils you for putting up with, you should be relieved he’s giving you an early out. Instead, the moment his fingers touch your cheek to try and calm you, you lock your fingers around his wrist. Gently, trying to pull him closer, ghosting his skin with paper-soft kisses until your face sits comfortably in the palm of his hand.

“Because that was a lot, Ozzie, and it always feels better when you stick around after… Because I love you.”

The words hang in the air, thick as cigar smoke. They weren’t unheard of between the two of you, but he’d never taken it seriously before, you’d just said it to sweeten the pot.

“Please Ozzie, I’ll love you forever.” “Thank you, Daddy, mwah, love you!”

But something about the way you said it, the way you’re looking at him has him thinking differently. You’ve already bared everything for him, but there’s something off about your demeanour, something vulnerable, something that has him believing it this time.

“I…” He sucks his teeth, thinks about his next words carefully. He wants to placate you, please you, love you, but he can’t come off as weak. Theres a distinct difference between loving someone for the things they can do for you, and simply loving someone. “I can probably stay a bit longer, the boys all be alright. How about we take that bath together, aye? Would that keep ya happy?”

You’re disappointed. You try to hide it, but he sees it faster than you can mask it. The pull of your lips, the droop of your lids before it’s replaced with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“That would be great, Daddy.” Your hand thread through his body hair, twisting and curling it between your fingers. Your mouth is soft and inviting, as you plant gentle kisses to his upper body, conveying your gratitude. “You’re the best.”

He’s just starting to melt under the near-intoxicating touch when it’s gone again. You’re holding his hand, leading him to the ensuite. He watches you closely, wondering how much longer you’ll love him without the returns you’re hoping for. How many shoes, bags, and shiny trinkets he’ll have to invest in to prolong your affections, or if, per usual, you’ll find a way to get what you want.

[r0semultiverse]

Qrow’s Semblance is Fortune! 🐦‍⬛

I talked about this briefly before, having speculated that Clover’s pin carries on his good luck after death or that Qrow has just done a lot of training mentally and/or physically. @benevolentslut had some amazing additions as well & I want to sum up this theory for you as best as I can as we reached similar conclusions even before I had read her reblog.

Qrow has only been in the negative all his life, mentally and emotionally.

This man has had barely any positivity in his life.

"His whole life he's been the epitome of cynicism and pessimism." - @benevolentslut

Qrow grew up under constant stress & threat of those around him.

Needless to say, but I don't think he could trust anyone he grew up around except maybe Raven.

Then he has to constantly worry about being found out by the other huntsmen! Also growing up with the threat of huntsmen and Grimm the entire time!

Then Oz drops the whole Salem problem on him & I'm sure that didn't help his mental health in the slightest!

"His sister leaves him and their team, and then summer disappears." - @benevolentslut Yeahhhh he is losing everyone close to him in one way or another! That cannot be a fun experience!

This look like the face of a guy that's doing okay?

I'm just going to copy paste this here as I hadn't noticed it & it feels worth noting that the intensity of his misfortune seems to increase with the increasing mental strain.

While we don't know for sure that all of these things are a byproduct of Qrow's misfortune semblance, it certainly isn't out of the realm of possibility. Notice the worsening of his mental health resulting in potentially more disastrous outcomes. 😰

"we see him blaming himself constantly for everything that goes wrong, and it only causes that to become more true." - @benevolentslut

She lists a lot more examples of where Qrow's semblance has potentially worked this way in the original post. Clover comes along & starts lifting him up, giving him actual hope. He now has a little seed of hope planted in him. 🍀

Wow, Qrow is doing so good for himself lately! I sure hope nothing-

Oh... oh no. From his perspective Ruby & Yang could literally be dead. He is stricken with grief as he watches it all unfold & probably sunk back down into a negative spot mentally. He may even blame himself in some way.

When you're this low, there's a saying that goes "nowhere to go but up."

I firmly believe that Qrow would see things that way, especially after reaching his lowest point. He can only do his best to help those around him. Though he's the most alone he's ever been, he's becoming a part of a new community where people help one another. In that sense, it's impossible to be alone. In spite of it all, he slowly finds his mental health improving! Ruby's message to the world is bringing people together! 🌹

"and we see him take up clover's role, both in terms of how he's helping out around shade, and more literally, in the unmissable parallel where he catches the guy who trips." - @benevolentslut

Ruby & Clover have both filled him with hope & he's more optimistic than he's ever been, which results in bursts good fortune! ✨

There's also already a premise for shifts in mental health and trauma resulting in semblance evolution.

Cinder betrayed Neo & so she winds up in the Ever After & through her form changes is showing us that she now has negative feelings towards Cinder.

She's so upset that her semblance starts to make multiple clones of her which it has never been able to do before. Her Overactive Imagination semblance has evolved due to the state of her mental health.

Her semblance begins to evolve so much to where she can create entire architectural structures and buildings out of it!

She can even use it to talk through the people she recreates, something she's not physically capable of herself.

While we do have to take into account that the Ever After plays by rules that are a little bit different at times; this absolutely confirms that semblances, much like people, can change & grow! 💪

My conclusion: Volume 10 & beyond will show Qrow's personal semblance evolution as he finds out that his power is actually Fortune itself & the ability to control it, good and the bad.

[ac3-76]

Legend of korra headcannons🐌

warnings: brief mention of drinking(kinda alcoholism), other than that nothing

(Most of these are in a modern setting)

Wing Beifong is a motorcycle guy and posts Aushen Ride type videos

Varrick is a coffee addict and he has awful coffee breath

Korra got a stingray tattooed on her upper back. the tail goes down her spine and the wings(?) are on her shoulder blades

If Formula 1 is a thing in their universe, Future Indistries is one of the og teams

Asami would have future industries make a feminine car for the races taking place in Women's History Month (march)

And for the cars used by the drivers outside of March there'd be something feminine on it, like a lip stick kiss mark

She started it because she wanted a more feminine touch in the sport to show that you can be a girly girl or a girly person and still enjoy and partake in something that's traditionally masculine

I feel like in general she uses her cars to bring awareness to things occurring in society

When Bolin got paid for the Nuktuk series one of the first things he bought was a high quality gaming set up that he had his eye on for years

Now he streams him playing video games and makes a fair bit of money from it

Sometimes the others will play games with him and make apperances on his streams

the fan favorite is Asami because she has the best builds in Minecraft and the best strategy in Call of Duty

Mako likes to watch Criminal Minds and other law/criminal shows to see if he can figure out where it's going and solve it before the characters do

Wu photoshops everything that he posts and is very active on all social media platforms

when Korra went on her own for 6 months after Zaheer tried to kill her, she started drinking because it made her sleepy

she didn't have to be awake and deal with her hallucinations, and when she slept it was nothing, no dreams, no nightmares, just hours of being away from her trauma

being with Toph in the swamp for a couple of weeks(or days?) was the start of her recovery from becoming reliant on drinking to avoid dealing with trauma

Opal collects cool rocks and crystals she finds in the places she travels to

She gets them as gifts for her mother

Also because she's an Air bender and thus follows the air nomad life style, she's always sure to say thank you to the land for allowing her to give the rock to her mom

Huan has had his art in museums and has sold some pieces to well known rich people

He gives most of the money to charity

Mako sleeps on silk sheets only

he was fine with cotton and other cheaper materials until he became Wus bodyguard

Wu insisted he sleep on silk sheets after Mako told him that he had never slept on silk, and now Mako needs silk sheets

Korra's had the same black 21 oz hyddroflask since she was 15

she refuses to buy another waterbottle

it's also covered in stickers

Bolin got Pabu a bed that was specially made for Pabus size, weight, and measurements

Kinda like the one Princess Anneliese had for her cat, Serafina, in Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper

Korras favorite thing to do when she sees a book or something with words is to ask how much spice in it

She's at a restaurant with Asami, they just got the menu, Korra picks it up and displays the front cover to Asami before asking "Booktok girlys before I read this how much spice is in it?"

She thinks it's the funniest thing ever

Wei and Bolin stream and play video games together, Wei has very severe anger management issues when it comes to video games

Not punch a hole in the wall bad because Su got mad at him the one time he did punch the wall, so he's practiced restraint, but still pretty bad

Su has a wax warmer for the scented wax cube things in every room of her house

She makes sure the scent is changed every week, and it has to be the same scent throughout the whole house

Tenzin avoids using social media and most technologies, as do the air nomads and monks, but Kya did get Tenzin to allow her to make a social media account for the air nation

it's mostly run by Jinora and owned by Kya on Kyas phone

it's used to spread information about the air nation, their culture, beliefs, customs, history, etc.

Lin wears boxer briefs

Asami has endometriosis

Mako doesn't handle spicy food that we'll, which is odd considering he's a fire bender

Wei's really into photography and always has a compact camera on him

His favorite compact camera is his Panasonic Lumix TZ95

Wings not super into photography but knows his way around a camera because Wei has rambled on about cameras and angles to him so many times

Wing also has to take pictures for Weis Instagram so he's had training on how to use cameras from Wei

Korra goes through a lot of interest that last for a couple of months, one of those interest was wood working/carving

Korra made Jinora a wooden claw clip for her birthday once

it's the only claw clip Jinora has and she loves it

Makos biggest guilty pleasure is cross stitch and other embroidery styles, but mostly cross stitch

Bolins bed has an uncountable number of pillows on it

After Korra and Asami come back from their spirit world vacation, they decide to travel the world

They both only ever traveled for world saving business, and even then it was earth kingdom and water tribe areas only

So they spent the next year or two traveling the world to see it in a tourist way and not a fighting war way

[therealbrigeedarocks]

wicked (the musical) ((the movie)) (((pt 1)))

it's fine

it's a low fucking bar when with how much sfx went into this goddamn film that about 95% of the time you can actually see shit (there are a handful of questionable shots but otherwise there's no like terrible cgi-covering bad lighting for this film) ((and this is coming from me watching the cam version so like, take that as you will))

i like a great big bunch of the set and costume designs, especially when it came to the library set piece. absolutely unnecessary and even impractical but goddamn did it make for some good choreography in the middle of "dancing through life"

one of my pet peeves of design however shows up at the end, when it comes to elphaba's broom. i get it, you can't have a generic broom for something meant to be Iconic and Distinctive and Marketable, but at the same time there is no way in hell this scraggly and pointy as fuck broom was ever used in the day-to-day cleaning of a fucking palace, let alone would be comfortable to use/ride as flying transportation

i heard they were going to pad these movies out by adding shit from the wicked books, and i know i'll never get to see elphaba whack a dying (dead?) madam morrible in the face with her broom, but i would've liked to see her attend a classmate's dinner party admitting to the deed as they get drunk

or just having friends in general i mean she and boq hung out all the time in the book and they are barely within 5 feet of each other in the musical and movie

speaking of shit from the book, i actually would've liked if they added elphie showing up somewhere from the middle of a rainstorm and having to carefully slough off a giant wet cloak to avoid the water touching her instead of just...a throwaway line about her not getting wet and a dinky umbrella

the leads do their best. arianna is basically doing a kristin chenoweth impression anyway and honestly something tells me she would've gotten shit if she deviated too far from what we all know. cynthia erivo does a pretty good job making the songs her own and i enjoy her interpretation

speaking of, the idina menzel and kristin chenoweth cameo was cute and funny and appropriately during the Song Created For The Film Adaptation So We Can Have An Oscar Nomination For Best Original Song

jeff goldblum is also fine and while i would've liked someone more along the lines of joel grey to fill in for the wizard, i also can't think of anyone else who would do a decent job.

no wait that's a lie, i think alfred molina could've done just as well whatever man i can dream this has nothing to do with me wanting alfred molina in more things

put alfred molina in more things please

if i had to be nit-picky about anything i think the thing that irritates me most is just something that happens in a lot of musical adaptations, which is when the timing is off or there's too much "dead air" (aka just not singing bits) between verses. it can stop the momentum in its tracks because they need to keep the plot going which doesn't seem to last as long on stage (but also you can't stop for different takes or fuck-ups on stage so it is what it is)

that said, as expected, the movie ends just as the first act of the musical does: on defying gravity. the song is great, the visuals are great, and while it's iffy to have a regular ass cape suddenly become large and looming for no reason, it's doubly nice to see it as such both for the costuming effect used in the musical and to have it billow like smoke ala how she "travels" in the judy garland movie. having the wizard of oz (1939) font for the title and end credit card is a nice touch because let's be real this movie was never going to escape the judy garland version

it's good it's fine and everyone is already making the joke about how there's not gonna be any memorable songs in the pt 2 of this movie

calling it now: "for good" is gonna be the song they use for all the marketing for pt 2

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

FINDING YOU Chapter 7

Summary: You're in a relationship with Steve Rogers, but his best friend just always seems to be around!

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: angst, self doubt

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 7

“You didn't love her, you just met her!” Bucky laughed.

It was the most relaxed you’d seen him in a public setting and it warmed your heart. Bucky had become your best friend in the months following your trip to the mountains. You were awkwardly watching Bucky, Steve and Peggy having a conversation from a distance feeling afraid to approach, despite your conversation with Peggy, you still felt apprehensive. Your partially concealed attention may have been considered eavesdropping.

“I thought you said she wasn't real.” Steve said with bravado, but you could tell he was trying not to blush.

“My pal here was sure this ‘woman’ was the only one who would love him,” Bucky teased.

“Who was she?” Peggy asked. Did she have a hint of apprehension in her voice? Was there more he had kept from her?

“Her name was Dottie. She was from somewhere over the rainbow. I thought I was saving her, but she ended up saving me.”

“I think he got caught in the rain after seeing the Wizard of Oz and was delirious from the pneumonia he developed.” Bucky interjected.

“I guess in the end she made me feel like there was hope for me. And there was.” Steve took Peggy’s hand. “I still believe it happened. But I know it wasn’t real, it wasn’t love.”

You had wished you hadn't stuck around to listen to this story. Your curiosity for the man you loved had taken over but wanted to scrub his words from your brain. The words Steve had spoken had no malice, but his firm simple matter of fact denial of his feelings, or lack thereof was devastating.

You wandered away from the crowd that surrounded Steve and Peggy lost in a haze of your thoughts. He had never cared for you. It was Peggy, it had always been her and always would be. Had he cared about you at all? Had you imagined the connection you’d felt with him. The whole year you’d spent in each other's arms, it had all been a lie.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself at the bar, nursing a large glass of chardonnay. Oh how tempting it was to drink down to the bottom of the bottle, but instead you stared at the smudged fingerprints of your hand on the glass, lost in a storm of negativity. Every criticism you’d heard, every derogatory thought you’d had about yourself came crashing over you, every insult, every taunt pulled you under, deeper and deeper into despair.

All the years you’d spent at medical school amounted to nothing, the years with S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t borne any fruit. You hadn’t made a difference to the world, not like her. You’d been living in her shadow ever since you’d made the decision to join Coulson’s team. What were you even doing with your life now? Deep down, you knew that you had made a difference in the lives of many, but what was a few individuals compared to the legacy created by Peggy Carter. Of course he hadn’t chosen you.

There was a tightness in your chest, a black cloud which descended on you. The darkness spread through you, creeping into every corner of your being, poisoning your soul and corrupting your thoughts. You were so lost in your despondency that you didn’t notice Bucky sitting down beside you.

It wasn’t until he snapped his metal fingers in front of your face that you were able to acknowledge his presence.

“Oh hey Buck.”

“Don’t ‘hey Buck’ me. What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth with the intention of speaking, but your throat felt thick with emotion and you couldn’t find the words to describe how you felt without tears falling. So you stayed silent, shrugging slightly in response.

Bucky studied your features intensely as you took a mouthful of wine to avoid further conversation. In the end, he decided not to press the issue. He ordered a bourbon and sat with you in silence. Bucky’s presence always seemed to give you comfort, his solid non invasive nature made him the perfect companion when you didn’t want to talk. You were about to order your third glass of wine, but he stopped you.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“It’s just going to make you feel worse.”

“I don’t care.”

“Why don’t I take you home?”

“That’s fine, I have wine there.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but dismounted the barstool. He offered you a hand but you pushed him away. It was only to your detriment, as you’d consumed two large glasses of wine on an empty stomach and you weren’t as stable as you’d have liked.

“Come on.”

You followed him, teetering along until you reached his bike. He handed you his helmet which you accepted reluctantly.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he smiled at your concern for him. “Come on.”

You put the helmet on and climbed onto the motorcycle behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist as Bucky sped down the street. The protective helmet was snug around your head and the warmth of Bucky’s back against your front made you feel safer than you had all evening. You felt yourself letting out the grief you’d been fighting to keep buried all evening. Tears slipped down your face in the confines of the safety helmet as you wept.

The ride home was taking a little longer than expected, not that you objected to the scenic detour that Bucky had taken. You were glad that you were able to stop crying before you reached your apartment.

“Thanks Bucky,” you mumbled, not making any moves to remove the helmet.

“Any chance I can get my helmet back?”

“Unlikely.” You didn’t want him to see your red puffy eyes.

You were locked in a stalemate. Bucky wasn’t volunteering to leave and you made no further moves to dismiss him or invite him in.

In the end it was Bucky who made a lateral move and swung his leg back over his bike.

"Get on."

You decided not to challenge him and hopped back on behind him. He made a few swift turns and pulled up in front of an iHOP.

You smiled at the thought of pancakes and your stomach rumbled loudly in anticipation. Bucky twisted round to look at you. It was almost like he could see through the reflective visor surface.

"Pancakes won't work if you keep that thing on."

"Fine."

You pulled off the protective headgear, grateful that Bucky made no mention of your tear stained face. You followed him inside where you found a table in a shadowy corner. Wordlessly, he handed you a napkin giving you a chance to wipe your face. You were surprised at how he had taken control of the situation, normally Bucky was very docile with your interactions, preferring to comply with your every demand. Before you knew what was happening, he had placed an order for both of you and you were silently tucking into strawberry covered pancakes. It was only when you'd finished that Bucky turned on you.

"What happened?"

It wasn't a question, it was a command.

You sighed. "Bucky…"

"Tell me."

The look in his eyes almost frightened you, giving you a momentary glimpse of the last thing his enemies might have seen before their encounter with The Winter Soldier. You blinked and that look was gone. It was almost as though he was angry. It wasn’t that you were afraid of Bucky, you knew you could trust him, but you were glad that those days were behind him. The wildness and fury in his eyes, his dilated pupils a midnight blue, the icy fire you caught, that wasn’t something you’d have wanted to encounter in a dark alley.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the look was gone and your friend with his gentle easy going manner was back in front of you. It was so short lived that you wondered if you’d imagined it.

“Ace?”

"I thought he loved me," you admitted dismally. You felt foolish for hoping that Steve might still harbor feelings for you even though he'd made his choice clear.

"I don't understand."

"He said it didn't mean anything. What we had was nothing."

You didn't need to tell Bucky who he was. 

"When?"

"Just now," you waved your fork in the direction you thought the party was continuing. "You were there."

"Steve wasn't talking about you."

"Yes, he was," you said quietly. “Okay, I’m not sure how to even start explaining this. But I’ll try. You’ll have to be patient with this crazy story. Okay?”

“Alright.” Bucky looked at you quizzically, but nodded in agreement.

“So a few years ago, my team and I ended up getting involved in a war against the Chronicoms.”

“Chronicoms?”

“They’re an extremely advanced and ancient race of synthetic, semi-robotic beings that operate in the galaxy as observers. They have a strict code of not interfering with the natural course of life on a planet. With one exception: to prevent an extinction-level event.”

“Extinction?”

“Extinction,” you confirmed.

“Thanos didn’t count?”

“Thanos didn’t,” you shook your head.

“Wow. So what extinction level event were you involved in?”

“Cliff notes version, because that's a whole other story. The Chronicoms planet came under siege and they wanted to establish Earth as their new home. They harnessed the powers of the Time Di’Allas to go back in time to change-”

“Woah, woah, I’m sorry, Time Di’Allas?”

“It’s a giant monolith artifact which has time travel properties. Understand?”

“No, but I’m not sure I’m going to understand more than half your story.”

“May I continue then?”

Bucky held out his hands, as if to say ‘the floor is all yours’.

“So they went back in time to try and destroy S.H.I.E.L.D. And we followed them. Anyway, I got stuck in early 1939. It was barely over twenty four hours but the Chronicom Hunters spent the whole time trying to kill me.”

Images flashed through your mind as you told Bucky the story as you remembered it.

Your heart was pounding as you ran through the streets of New York City. The hunters were on your tail and they were vicious, showing no mercy to anyone who crossed their path. Your throat burned as every breath stretched your lungs to the max. At any second, your body was going to give out. Lactic acid was scorching the insides of your veins, your legs were feeling heavy and you were losing speed.

To make things worse, it started to rain. Dark clouds loomed overhead, reducing visibility and the wet cobblestones made your feet slip and slide as you pushed one drenched shoe in front of the other.

You knew your luck was about to run out, as you rounded a corner, a last minute decision to zig rather than zag. It was a fatal error in your calculations as your feet went sliding in different directions and you landed face down in a puddle. A groan escaped your lips as you pushed yourself up and small pebbles pierced the skin of your palms and ripped your pants. You stood up, brushing your palms off when you came face to face with a brick wall. You sighed, turning to face the opening of the alley, ready to fight for your life.

“Hey!” A voice hissed at you from behind you.

You turned but didn’t see anything.

“Over here!” The voice called again.

This time you caught sight of a slender built blonde haired man behind a fence.  He was beckoning to you. You looked back and forth between the alley entrance and the stranger behind the fence. It didn’t take much time to calculate that you would more likely stand your own defending yourself against a single rather scrawny looking man versus three Chronicom Hunters with sophisticated weapons of destruction. You decided to take your chances with the man.

He held the fence open and you slipped through the gap.

“Come on, this way.”

You followed him silently, stalking through small back alleys until you reached a movie theater.

“We can duck in here.” Steve smiled at you.

“Thank you.”

“Two please.” Steve pulled out his wallet and bought two tickets.

“What movie are we seeing?” you asked.

“It’s something new, just released yesterday. It’s called The Wizard of Oz.”

A grin spread across your face. “I’m sure it will be incredible.”

The two of you hurried into the screening room and claimed two seats in the back just as the room darkened and trailers started up.

“Thanks for helping me out back there,” you whispered.

“No problem.”

“Why did you?”

The blonde shrugged. “I don’t like bullies.”

It was such a simple answer, an honest one. Something you hadn’t heard in a while and you appreciated the sentiment. You settled back and tried to enjoy the movie, every once in a while you glanced towards the door, but no one appeared and your heart rate settled back into a normal range.

The movie came to a close with Dorothy telling Aunt Em that she had been in Oz. "I’m so glad to be at home again!”

The lights came up and people began to file out.

“So-”

“So! Thanks again for helping me.” You smiled at him gratefully.

Now that the lights were brighter, you could see his face more clearly along with the blush which had spread across his delicate features. He didn’t quite meet your eyes when you spoke to him.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m-”

He stopped as you pressed two fingers to his lips to silence him. He stared at you in surprise and it was your turn to blush as you pulled your hand away.

“Sorry. I just don’t think we should learn too much about each other. Those people that are looking for me are incredibly clever at getting information from people. The less we know about each other the better it is.”

“Alright.” Steve didn’t look surprised that a girl didn’t want to know who he was.

“I do need something to call you though. How about Daniel?”

“That’s fine,” he stammered back at you. “You’re not leaving?”

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me out a little more?”

“Of course,” Steve replied eagerly.

“My friends will be back to get me soon. I was wondering if you knew somewhere I could lay low for a while?”

“I think I have an idea.”

You smiled.

“So if I’m going to help you out, what do I call you?”

You thought for a moment, before a smirk crept across your face. “I’m Dorothy.”

“Nice to meet you, Dottie.” Steve smiled. “Come on, before they throw us out.”

You followed his lead. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled down the street. You matched his stride as he walked, slipping your arm through his as you noticed that there were few unaccompanied women out and about. It wouldn’t be wise to draw attention to yourself.

“Sorry,” you said as you noticed Steve blushing. “I just didn’t want to get questioned about being out unchaperoned.

“We don’t live in the 1800s anymore,” Steve grinned at you. But he didn’t make any move to untangle himself from you. “That said, I’m curious about where you purchased your clothes. I’ve never seen a dame wear anything like that around here.”

You looked down at your fitted black top and dark jeans. “Maybe we need to make a stop for clothes.”

Steve stopped outside the first store that sold women’s clothes.

“Guess this is as good a place as any.” 

You shrugged. “What if I have standards?”

“Then you wouldn’t be here with me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Look at me. It’s not as though women are lining up to cut a rug.”

You didn't understand what he said, but you knew you didn't like his tone. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Sell yourself short.”

“Are you really going to bring up my height?” Steve kipped.

You swatted his arm. “Come on,” you pulled him into the store. “Help me find something to wear.”

After a few moments of perusing the aisles, you picked up something that caught your eye.

“So Daniel, what do you think?” You held a green swing dress up in front of you and shook your hips from side to side.

“Looks real swell.”

You laughed and threw it across his arms.

“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” he asked, trying his luck at getting information from you.

“Where else could I find a dress like this?” 

Steve chuckled at your evasive answer.

“Come on, I’m going to try them on.” You lead the way to the fitting rooms.

You spent the next hour parading outfits in front of Steve, trying to get his opinion. Unfortunately he didn’t give you much guidance, he said you looked beautiful in every single one. Eventually you found a winner, a scarlet below knee ruched puff sleeve A-line dress. You knew you’d found the one because his jaw quite literally dropped as you emerged from the curtained cubicle.

“You like it?”

“It’s perfect,” he whispered. He was almost afraid to make noise and wake himself from the dream. “Now that you’re all decked out, I can show you a place where you can stay.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed his arm gently, grateful for his generosity.

You felt lucky to have come across this kind stranger, knowing that you’d not survive if you were stuck on the streets of the city. The hunters after you were ruthless and you definitely needed rest if you were to make it until Zephyr One jumped to the next point in time. You needed to be ready.

You paid for the dress with the little money you’d left the Zephyr One with and the two of you left the store with your clothes folded in a bag. You had decided to keep your own boots on, luckily they didn’t look too out of place and you needed to be practical. The man beside you kept glancing in your direction, blushing profusely when you caught his eye.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You made a great choice.” You grinned at him.

Your expression changed slightly as you caught a glimpse of a familiar looking figure. It made your heart rate shoot up and you slipped your arm through his in panic. You gave a quick glance backwards but there was nothing there. You’d always been a rather jumpy person, it was shocking you’d survived for so long with Coulson’s team. Facing an enemy face to face was so much easier than waiting for someone to jump out at you from the shadows. 

“It’s alright,” Steve said softly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You felt a pang in your heart. This poor man had no idea what he was up against, yet here he was, offering to protect you. The Chronicom hunters would squash him like a bug. Maybe letting him help you wasn’t such a good idea after all. You were about to pull away from him when he spoke again.

“So you’re really not going to tell me anything about yourself?”

There was something about his eyes, the beautiful blue made you feel like you were falling into the sky. Your heart contracted with his offer of chivalry.

“You don’t think a little mystery is exciting?” you flirted.

“I’ve had enough mystery to last me a lifetime. I prefer getting to know people.”

The earnestness in his eyes made you feel guilty. “I wish I could tell you something more.”

“Do you think something terrible would happen if you did?”

You bit your lip, thinking about the butterfly effect, the ever diverging multiverse, the implications on the future. “Maybe.”

“Who are you? Mata Hari?”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” you quipped. “Look, Daniel. Or whatever your name is. I’m not sure that this is a good idea.”

“Why?” His face fell and you hated it.

“I don’t want to put you in any danger. You’ve already done enough for me.”

“I can’t stand around and leave a beautiful dame in danger.”

“Wait? Are you just helping me because you think I’m ‘beautiful’?”

Steve looked incredibly flustered by your sudden outrage.

“No, I wanted to help you. And you just happen to be incredibly beautiful.”

“Nice save, Danny boy.”

“Are you interested in somewhere safe to stay?”

“It’s not your apartment, is it?”

“I think we’d have to be going steady before I’m ready to take you home.”

You chuckled at the phrase. “Good to know where I stand.”

“Come on,” he took your hand and led you down a side street. The boldness of his action surprised you. He had been so reserved until now, this move was unexpected and you loved it. Despite the sweatiness of his palm, you were happy to follow him.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

You didn’t hear his answer as a Chronicom rifle blast missed your face by mere millimeters and hit the side of a building.

Everything after this point happened very quickly. Steve, or Daniel pulled you behind him. His arms raised for a fight. One second he was standing in front of you, the next he was on the floor, out cold having been hit with a stun blast.

“Daniel!” you screamed, your emotions getting the better of you for a moment.

It was suddenly as though your brain had switched to fight mode, it was just you against hunters. May’s training had been grueling but your body now moved flawlessly as you dodged blasts from the rifles, deflecting the energy pulses with your powers until you were close enough to engage in hand to hand combat.  You were able to disarm the hunters and incapacitate them with their own weapons.

You stood in the middle of the street, breathing hard from exertion, rifle in each hand, as it started to rain. The drops struck the street with force, drenching your clothes within minutes

“Daniel!” you patted the unconscious man’s cheek and whispered his name in his ear. “Daniel, wake up!”

The hunters were definitely down for the count, but they traveled in packs and you weren’t sure if the two on the floor had sent out a signal before they shut down. Either way, you didn’t need to be found surrounded by two electronic bodies by the authorities.

Steve groaned, regaining consciousness. 

“Hey, can you get up?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve jumped up to his feet. His clothes were already drenched and hair plastered across his face. “Get behind me.” He grabbed your wrist, trying to push you to the side, looking around for the threat. His eyes widened as he spotted the bodies sprawled on the ground.

“We have to go!” You tugged at his sleeve.

“Dottie, what happened?”

“Not now, let’s go!” you urged him to lead the way. “Come on!”

Steve started marching down the alley, away from the Chronicoms with you in tow. Your fast walk turned into a jog, then a full run until you arrived at a large warehouse-like building. Steve stopped in front of a large iron studded door and started fumbling with some keys. You glanced around checking for anyone who might be pursuing you before you and Steve slammed the heavy door closed behind you.

You and Steve both collapsed against the door, panting with exhaustion and relief. As soon as you caught your breath you lay your head on his shoulder.

“Thanks Daniel.”

He didn’t answer. But you noticed a whistling noise coming from his chest. You looked up at Steve’s ashen face and realized that he was still breathing hard. The whistling was actually wheezing.

“Do you have asthma?”

He nodded.

“Got your-” Did they have inhalers in the 1940s? “Got any meds with you?”

He gave you a shake.

You looked around, your heart picked up the pace a little again. Asthma attacks could kill, this was potentially more dangerous than the Chronicoms. You spotted a little kitchenette and armchair with blankets draped across it.

“Come on, get up.”

Steve whined, although it came out as a loud wheeze.

“I know, we’re just going to go over there.” You nodded your head towards the hardback chair and tiny table.

He took the hand you offered him and you supported him across the space. You searched your brain for all the ways to help ease an asthma attack without using inhalers and steroids. As Steve sat down, you noticed that his teeth had started chattering slightly. He must be freezing in this wet clothes, you thought.

“I think you should take off the wet clothes. There are some blankets,” you grabbed one from the sofa a few feet away. “The cold must be triggering your symptoms.”

Steve complied reluctantly, removing his coat and shirt, but kept his undershirt and pants on. You draped a blanket over his shoulders and rubbed his upper arms to try and make him feel warmer.

“Sit up straight. And take deeper breaths. Nice and slow. Like this.” You inhaled slowly and blew out slowly through slightly pursed lips, holding tightly to his shaking hands.

Steve copied you. Once his breathing was a bit more controlled, you told him you were going to make him some coffee. If you remembered correctly, caffeinate was a bronchodilator and a warm drink would really help him warm up.

It wasn’t long before the wheeze had quietened and Steve was looking less gray. His grip on the mug didn’t loosen and he was staring at the steam coming out of the cup but he looked more stable and you felt less anxious about leaving his side.

“Daniel, I’m just going to go and change back into my clothes, they’re still dry. Okay?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up. So you started walking away.

“Who were those people?"

You didn't answer.

"Did you kill them?” Your silence didn't deter him from asking another question.

“No.” That wasn’t strictly untrue. They’d never been flesh and blood to start with, not alive.

“Who are you?”

“Daniel, please.”

“My name’s not Daniel.”

“I know,” you replied sadly. “But the more I explain, the more I have to tell you and it risks so much. Please, I need you to trust me. I'm not a bad person.”

“What happened to those men?”

“I fought them.”

“If you know how to fight, why were you running away?”

“Because I was scared. I am scared. Of messing things up. I'm not supposed to be here. I've already put you in so much danger. I'm so sorry.”

“You could go to the authorities.”

“The authorities wouldn’t know what to do with these people.”

“Why are you here?”

“Ummm-”

“I mean why are you here in New York? You said your friends were coming to get you. What happens when you leave? Will those people go around hurting anyone else?”

You smiled about the fact that he cared.

“They’ll leave too.”

Steve continued to look at you, trying to analyze your intentions. His piercing blue eyes felt like they were boring into your soul. It sent a chill down your spine and you shivered.

“You should put on your dry clothes. Or you’ll catch a chill.”

You did as you were told. It was a relief to be out of the wet clothes and you instantly felt better. You went back over to where Steve was still nursing his coffee, glancing around the room as you walked.

“I’m sorry, you don’t like it?” you pointed at his mug.

“Too much gives me palpitations.”

You chuckled. “I feel that.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you say the oddest things?”

“Yeah, I’ve déjà’ed that vu.”

Steve stood up, slightly unsteady and wobbled over to the sofa and pulled another blanket over himself.

“Are you still cold?” you asked, going over to sit beside him.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around his slim torso, shuffling closer, trying to warm him with your own body heat.

“So what happens here?” you asked, waving your arm towards the rest of the room. You were suddenly feeling nervous about how close you were to this man you’d only met earlier that day.

“Art.”

“Art?”

“Yeah, I sometimes do sketches, illustrations for work purposes.”

“You’re an artist?” you smiled. 

“It pays the bills.”

“You’ll have to show me some of your work some time! Maybe?”

“I’d like that.” 

And he smiled. Damp strands of his blonde hair flopped over his eyes. You reached out and brushed them away from his forehead.

“Still cold?”

You leaned in towards him so your shoulder touched his.

“A little.”

His eyes were mesmerizing. His lips looked so soft. You felt an invisible pull towards this stranger who had dropped everything in his life just to help you. Your noses were almost touching and you tilted your head. Steve closed his eyes, you did the same. Just as you thought he would close the space that was left, you heard him gasp and you opened your eyes in time to see him turn his head and sneeze loudly.

He flinched, not wanting to see your reaction. “Sorry.”

“Bless you,” you whispered in his ear.

He turned back to face you, surprised that you hadn’t moved. You were just as close as you had been. He watched intently as your eyes flicked down to his lips, it made you blush. It wasn’t often that you had to make the first move, you didn’t have the nerve. There was always a first time for everything.

“May I kiss you?” you asked.

He nodded nervously and you smiled, giving in to the pull he had on you. It was slow, he was unsure, but you could taste the coffee on his lips. You took the lead, his lips were soft and his breath felt hot on yours. His eyes remained closed the entire time. It was short, you didn’t want him to feel pressured or overwhelmed. As you moved away, your nose brushed his gently and he opened his eyes to look at you and it was your turn to feel flustered. This time it was Steve who reached out and took your hand.

“Thank you.”

You grinned back at him bashfully, not wanting him to let go of your hand. Both of you sat in a comfortable silence until Steve’s head started sagging on your shoulder.

“Hey sleepyhead, you should get some sleep. It’s late.”

Steve jumped up, the blanket across his lap falling to the floor.

“You can take the davenport.”

You assumed he meant the sofa. “We can take it in turns. I think you should go first. I’m not in the mood to sleep yet.”

You were lying. You were tired, but he looked exhausted.

“Are you sure, Dottie?”

You smiled, he finally used your pseudonym. Steve was definitely feeling the weariness. Even though you’d known him for less than a day, you could tell he wasn’t the unchivalrous type. He would give up the sofa in a heartbeat had you asked.

“I’m sure. Thanks Daniel.”

He handed you a blanket. “I’ll take this one. You need to stay warm too.” Steve kicked off his shoes and curled up on one corner.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” You pointed at the other end.

“Of course not.”

You made yourself comfortable, wrapped in the blanket which now smelt distinctly of the man beside you. It made you feel calm and relaxed. Your mind told you sleep wasn’t wise, but your body had other ideas and you fell into a light slumber.

You woke up with a start, groggy from your sleep. Your phone buzzed again and you silently thanked Fitz for having upgraded your battery giving it a week’s lifespan. It was time to leave. You could tell it was still dark outside, and Steve was still out cold beside you.

You picked up your phone and texted the team. “Send me the location. I’m on my way.”

There wasn’t time for a long protracted goodbye. The Zephyr One jumps were getting more and more erratic, which is how you’d ended up in this situation in the first place. If you woke him, there would be more questions. If you left a note, there was only evidence of your presence. 

You climbed off your seat cautiously, trying not to make any sudden movements, then pulled on your boots. He looked so peaceful but you wished you could see his eyes one last time. You shook your head, trying to push away the sentimentality. It had been a day, you’d known him for less than a day, you couldn’t be this mushy. May would be disgusted by your behavior. You ought to leave. You were going to leave.

You dropped to your knees and leant over the sleeping Steve. You stroked the hair away from face and pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead. He felt hot, hotter than you'd expected. There was a flush on his cheek. Did he have a fever?

You were about to put your hand on his forehead when he stirred. You froze, not wanting to risk waking him. The buzzing of your phone called your attention, you needed to leave now. You didn't want to leave him vulnerable and alone but ultimately you couldn't stay. You got up quietly and padded over to the door. It locked automatically when the door was shut. Good. He would be safe from anyone trying to enter.

You slipped out of the door, closing it behind you. Then you started running hoping that no one would stop you. 

"Wait, I can't believe this! It was real? It was you?" Bucky asked incredulously.

"Yeah," you sighed.

​​

[s4tvrnsays]

AU Development: Wardrobe

As someone who’s obsessed with drawing characters in cute clothes, one thing i love abt character design is showing a character’s arc through the things they wear.

In my au, the main three (elodie, marinette, and adrien) all go through varying levels of wardrobe changes, either in simply color or a full 180 in style.

All of them changed after becoming heroes. It taught them something, helped them learn to express themselves, explore who they want to be, or find the confidence to show the side they hid from sight. All three, by the end of their journey, find themselves unable to differentiate between their hero persona and their civilian self.

And other than writing, telling a story through visuals is the next best thing.

I’ll start from simplest to most drastic.

Lets start with Élodie.

At first, Élodie would wear exclusively grayscale, with some beiges on occasion. Think about The Wizard of Oz, and how dorothy’s home in Kansas is bathed in grays with no hint of color, to represent the dullness and lifelessness of her life there. Élodie’s wardrobe follows that same idea to an extent. Her self isolation and rejection of others has led to her life becoming much like Kansas, bleak and dull and barren.

Grays were easy. Grays took no thought to put on. Clothes are just that, clothes. Pieces of fabric that don’t have much significance, so why should she care about them?

It is only after she becomes cigognelle that her clothes begin to change with her. Blacks and greys begin mixing with browns of various shades, dark blues start to show up in between, and red accents materialize out of seemingly nowhere, covering her clothes in little patterns. Her clothes begin to carry meaning.

Then, the red overtakes everthing. It covers her sweaters, her rings, her shirts. She sees it in her pencil case, and in the polish she buys. In her leotards and on her cameras, in fabrics and stickers. Her clothes begin to carry meaning. A patterned red and black shirt becomes her go-to shirt to wear on errands. A blue ribbon Marinette gave her somehow showing up wrapped around her camera strap.

That is how we know then that her and cigognelle have become one.

Élodie’s world was thrown into technicolor the moment she wore that caped feather suit.

────────────────────

Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t known for her personal style. Not at first, at least.

Her heavy sweaters and unassuming colors didn’t bring much attention to herself, but she expected that. Her designs are bright and wonderful, but they never felt good enough to make real. And even if she did wear them, the looks people would give her!

But for all that she couldn’t do, Marinette dreamed. She fantasized about being the belle of the ball, rocking to a party wearing something made completely by herself. An original. People would beg her to tell them where she got her outfit, and she’d confidently respond that she made it all.

But her dreams often stayed such. Marinette thought maybe at her new school she might get the chance to finally show off, but as always, nothing changed. She stayed quiet. Stayed unassuming. Stayed hidden.

But Marinette found her solution in a pair of little red earrings.

She could show her true self as ladybug, the mask acting as her shield from the world’s judgement. She can be as loud as she wants, act in whichever way she wanted to, and there’d be no repercussions!

Ladybug showed her how good it feels to let go of all her anxieties and worries, how to have fun with life and live without care.

Soon arinette found herself wearing the little pieces she makes. Headbands and hair clips to school, little charm bracelets, and patches on her backpack and uniform. She wore the dresses she finally had the confidence to actually sew, the bright tights she always wanted to wear, cute scarves she learned to knit!

Being ladybug inspired Marinette to leave day dreams behind by making them her reality.

────────────────────

Lastly, Adrien changing his wardrobe was something everyone expected.

All he knew was decided for him. His hobbies, his friends, his activities, as well as his clothes. Hes used to wearing his father’s creations, the sleek Gabriel brand clothes. Stylish jackets, handsome merino wool turtlenecks, expertly crafted dress shoes, and much more.

His clothes are restricting and stiff, with the exception of one piece. His bright orange sneakers. They’re still Gabriel, but theyre rough and scuffed. His mother convinced his father to make them for him when he turned 14, and he finds himself wearing them more and more since she left. They’re the one thing Adrien himself chose to wear, and its no surprise Gabriel hates them.

Adrien’s wardrobe doesn’t go through a gradual change after he becomes Chat Noir. At most, he buys more jewelry to wear, but nothing more. God knows his father won’t let it pass.

But after finding out the truth about his father’s schemes, adrien goes through a phase that has been long coming. He trashes all his old clothes, and gets new ones. He’d refuse to buy brand new clothes, buying from thrift shops, second hand stores, and even commissions marinette to make him some.

His colors become darker, stronger, and brighter, a contrast from the soft blues and whites he wore before. More of Chat begins to show through, in neon greens, hoodies, and knitted beanies.

He borrows scarves from Marinette, shirts from Nino, necklaces from Élodie, bag charms from Alya, etc.

Adrien Agreste’s switch was a long time coming, and he couldn’t be happier.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Second Chances

Summary: In the Heroes and VIllains verse, Robin Hood becomes King Robin of Sherwood, a man grieving the untimely loss of his wife and their baby son. When he rescues the bandit Regina and her son Roland from a snow storm, he finds himself staring at a second chance. Will he be strong enough to take it or let another chance at love and a family slip through his fingers?

Chapter 1: A03

Chapter 6: A Wedge

AO3

Excerpt:

"Your Majesty?"

Robin looked up as John entered the room. He clasped his hands behind his back as he said: "Lady Zelena West is here."

"Oh," Robin said, surprised. He stood from his desk. "Where is she?"

"She's waiting for you in the receiving room," John replied, stepping aside so Robin could pass him.

Robin clapped John on the shoulder. "Thank you. Can you have the kitchens send us up some tea and sandwiches please?"

"Of course," John said, bowing. "They should be sent up shortly."

Thanking his friend, Robin left the room and headed down to the receiving room. It had been a some time since Zelena had last visited and he was eager to see his old friend again. Growing up, she had been one of his best friends and for a while, she had been the apparent choice to become queen until he had met Marian at a ball. He realized he only felt friendship for Zelena and she had agreed that she only saw him as a brother, happily stepping aside for Marian. Or at least, he thought it had been happily. He had had his doubts when she left court shortly after his marriage, retiring to her family's estate on the other end of Sherwood. Part of him wondered if she had truly been heartbroken or if she had just wanted to spend time with her aging parents before it was too late.

Don't be silly, he told himself. It was the latter. Zelena has never really been shy with you. She would've told you how she felt.

He entered the receiving room and smiled as he saw the familiar redhead. She wore a pink satin dress with a wide skirt and lace at her cuffs. Zelena stood in front of a portrait of his parents, admiring the painting with her hands clasped behind her back.

"Hello, Zelena," he said, approaching her. "It's good to see you."

She turned from the portrait, smiling brightly as her eyes lit up. Zelena rushed toward him, arms opened wide. "Robin! It's just as good to see you!"

He took a few steps toward her until they met up and she wrapped her arms around him. Robin held her as well, feeling good to be reunited with his best friend. "Welcome back," he said. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too," she replied before pulling back. She ran her hands down his arms. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well," he told her. "It hasn't been easy but I feel like the worst of the grief is behind me. I still miss Marian and our son but I have started to move forward with my life."

Zelena nodded. "Good. I am so sorry I wasn't able to get here earlier and couldn't be there for you during the darkest time of your life."

"You have nothing apologize for," he assured her, not wanting her to feel guilty. "You needed to be with your parents and with the bad winter we had, it was safer for you to stay in Oz."

"I know," she replied. "Still, I thought about you every day."

He felt his smile falter as guilt filled him, knowing he couldn't say the same about her. So he just thanked her instead and motioned to a nearby chair. "Please, sit down. The kitchens should send up some tea and sandwiches soon."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!" she exclaimed, sitting down in the nearest armchair. "I've missed the food here at the palace."

"I am still surprised you didn't try to steal some of my kitchen staff from me," he admitted with a chuckle as he sat in the armchair next to her.

She laughed. "I did consider it. But I didn't want to insult our staff at home in Oz. They do still make my meals."

He nodded, knowing that every royal and noble family had the same one rule. "Never upset the people who make your food," he said.

"Exactly," Zelena said.

A servant emerged, carrying a silver tray with a tea service on it. She set it down on the table and curtsied. "Shall I serve the tea?" she asked.

"I can do that," Zelena said. She then looked at Robin. "If that is alright with you."

He turned to the maid. "We have it handled. You may return to the kitchens and we'll summon someone when we are done," he told her.

She curtsied again. "Enjoy."

Once she left the room, Zelena picked up the teapot and poured some tea into Robin's cup. "Do you still like a dash of milk and two sugars?" she asked.

"I do," he replied. "You still take it with milk and as many sugars as you could possibly fit in it?"

Zelena chuckled, nodding. "Some things never change, do they?"

"No," he replied, taking the cup from her as he studied her. Zelena seemed to be the same as when she left over a year ago and it was nice to talk with someone who continued to act the same around him, who didn't treat him as if he was made of glass. Leaning back, he smiled. "And I'm glad for it."

"Me too," she said, fixing her own cup of tea. She held out her cup. "To the things that never change?"

He nodded, clinking his cup against her. "And to dear friends."

"Cheers," she replied, sipping her tea as he did the same. She then picked up the plate of sandwiches and held them out to him. "Sandwich?"

[robbyrobinson]

Two Beautiful Scenes (SPOILERS)

Like damn, didn't think that I'd almost be brought to tears this week. Thought that I had dried up much of them from episode 7 of Dandadan, but I almost nearly cried watching Wicked (2024). Both of those were just so beautiful I almost bawled like a baby.

"To a Kinder World" is probably one of the greatest episodes in 2024 anime thus far with everything working to its pleasure. Momo wanting to resuscitate Aira even after she had her jumped and tried to "exorcise" her. And then there is the aura transferal.

I was honestly surprised to see that there were a select few who thought that the scene of Acrobatic Silky with her daughter did not work or did not understand the context behind it. For instance, when she first wakes up and you hear running water, it is pretty apparent that she is an escort with the one in the shower being one of her clients. This was someone who was a single mother who worked hard to provide for her daughter because she loved her that much. Even if it meant selling herself and doing unsavory things.

This is a classic case of show don't tell where the story gives several hints and implications without making the audience feel that they need to be spoon-fed information. The OST... good god, the music was so good. And that dance she did before she gave into despair. It accentuated the tragedy of the episode and, honestly, even after I watched the episode, I still think back to everything that Acrobatic Silky did for her daughter and just how unfair her plight was.

And then the fact that, after sacrificing herself for Aira, there would be nothing left of her as if she never existed? Like, screw you Turbo Granny for being so condescending. Granted I know it was because she and Okarun didn't see Acrobatic Silky's memories, but it still hurt to think Acrobatic Silky was still being mistreated even when she was barely holding onto her form.

But really, Acrobatic Silky and Arai were alike in many ways and you could say they ultimately needed each other. It is just so tragic to see a mother who had their daughter stolen from her, and a girl who not only lost her mother but didn't understand that her mother wasn't coming back. Of course, Arai ensures that Acrobatic Silky's heart was at peace.

But, yes, with Wicked, I can't give you the exact date I first found out about the musical, but I just loved the songs in particular "Defying Gravity" which I was wondering how it would be done justice in the movie. Both Cynthia and Ariana Grande do a phenomenal job with their chemistry and how they can hold a harmony. I was legitimately crying over how good it sounded. Like, what's break it down.

I just loved how they had the song feel "natural" like they have moments where they allow the song to breathe with pauses. Elphaba's "Something has... changed within me" really sounds like she was trying to choose the best words to describe what she was feeling in that moment. I just had chills hearing the raw sadness in Elphaba and Glinda's voices where you could tell they did not want this to get to that point, and that, had Oz not have been such a big threat, I could see Glinda joining Elphaba.

The orchestra, the action... and the big moment of Elphaba causing that black out was so cinematic as hell. That war cry... I was just so, so moved by it all.

[tinyozlion]

“True Friends” - Understanding Mr. Treize and the Contradictions of OZ

“Treize himself has a tremendous disdain for any tactic that allows for excess casualties. Ignoble behavior on the battlefield sullies any victory, and civilian death makes a mockery of what a True Soldier fights and dies for. For Treize, there is nothing more hateful than removing the human component from battle, or the cowardly avoidance of responsibility for human death.”

Gosh! What a great quote! I wonder who said that? Oh right, that was me! I did. I wrote that in the entry about “True Soldiers: Aesthetics, Honor, and Chivalry”.   

Let’s examine that a little more, shall we? 

“His Excellency doesn’t want battles that involve civilians.”

Everyone who knows Treize best, his “True Friends”, who grew up with him, who were trained by him, who understand him, all seem to agree: His Excellency wouldn’t stand for needless casualties. OZ may be ruthlessly pragmatic and underhanded, but that couldn’t be Treize’s fault– no, it’s always Lady Une! It’s his fanatically devoted colonel who always chooses the path of greatest violence, heedless of any collateral damage– she’s the one to blame! Treize would never give an order that risked civilian lives.

…Right?

…Right?

Surely he would stop her, admonish her, make her face serious consequences for the atrocities she was willing to commit. He’d leave no room for doubt that she had failed him and disappointed him.

...Right?

Yeah, that’s right, a firm slap on the wrist oughta do it. Tell her to try a little harder next time to understand the value of human life. Just do better! It’s alright to use mobile suits to attack a school, but we’re going to put a stop to it because I’ve changed my mind about killing a teenage girl, as a personal favor to a friend. 

–Friends of His Excellency would certainly like to believe that he would never knowingly sacrifice civilians, but he sure doesn’t seem to mind benefiting from someone else doing it for him.

How well do Treize’s friends really understand him, when they seem unaware of how wide a margin of error he finds acceptable in pursuing his ideals? 

Well, ideals are fine and all, but war is war, and some amount of pragmatism is necessary to stay on top. Treize isn’t the one calling all the shots (yet), and the organization he reports to expects results. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet, right? That’s why it pays to have a Chief Omelet Maker working for you, so she can break all the eggs, and murder school children, and threaten nuclear assault, and you can come away still smelling like roses. 

…But what sort of effect does that have on her? 

It’s better for a ruler to be feared than loved; being hated is the perfect motivation to stay strong; fighting will never disappear from the world, so the strong should rule it for the sake of damage control; God was too lenient when he gave mankind the free will to rebel; people find comfort in being controlled by the powerful. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

So Lady Une devotes herself to fulfilling those ideals unflinchingly, no matter how much blood ends up on her hands. Better her hands than His. OZ has to be the strongest. OZ has to win. OZ must be victorious at any cost. Damn the Colonies, damn the politician’s daughter who made herself a liability, damn the wounded soldiers left behind at New Edwards Base– she’s going to make OZ so absolutely unfuckwithable that their enemies shit themselves at the mention of its name, and she’ll do it herself if no one else will. Because THAT is what His Excellency wants. She understands him. 

...So why does he keep telling her– ever so gently, ever so gracefully, that she’s wrong? If making sure the strongest rule and the weak obey isn’t what pleases him, then what will? 

Killing is simple– anyone is capable of killing anyone, so you mustn't abuse that capability. The Earth is fragile and infinitely beautiful. Human life is fragile and infinitely beautiful. One must always take responsibility for the fates of those who fight for you, and honor the sacrifice of those who die. Tragedy in war is inevitable. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

So Lady Une devotes herself to fulfilling those ideals with grace and empathy, to bring an end to needless bloodshed. The world needs a strong, compassionate leader, who is capable of loving humanity and guiding them to a peaceful future, where loss and war are tragedies of the past. Order and peace can be maintained without sacrifice, by using technical advancements to replace soldiers on the battlefield and keep them out of harm’s way. That is what His Excellency wants. She understands him.

...So why does he tell her– so sadly, plaintively, that she is wrong? That he is not who she thinks he is, that the future she has so carefully laid out for him is a fantasy of her own making? Why does he plead with her to come back to him, as the person he once knew so fondly?

Civility and honorable conduct on the battlefield is worth more than victory. To fight for something one believes in with perfect clarity is the purest endeavor of mankind. The tragedy of loss is what gives a battle meaning. Honoring the sacrifice of those who have died for your cause means being willing to die for it yourself. To fight, to lose, to die for a noble cause is to move the hearts of all humanity, to touch immortality. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

And so she does– she sacrifices herself to save the Gundam pilots and turn the tides in outer space, rejecting Romefeller, rejecting the Mobile Dolls. At last, she understands him. 

…But didn’t she always?

Except perhaps in the case of using Mobile Dolls to replace soldiers (an idea that was easily manipulated by its inventors to fit into her worldview at the time), her understanding of Treize’s ideals wasn’t ever wrong, just fragmented. She focused on a single facet at a time, each time excluding the contradictions of the other sides– light bouncing off a solid plane without revealing the rest of the prism’s convoluted geometry. 

She isn’t mistakenly interpreting him– HE is a mess, and she is representing him accurately, one dimension at a time. 

What is more significant is that he finally understands this about her.

Treize is mortified to realize what sort of effect he has been having on someone he cares about, during a period where he is questioning the validity of his own beliefs and significance. He may mistakenly believe that he is responsible for having fragmented Lady Une’s personality– which is not how the condition she has operates– but he is not mistaken in taking responsibility for her distress, and the danger he has put her in.

Losing her, or believing that he has lost her, is devastating. Rather than moving him to action, it moves him to inaction; aware that he has come to represent ideals that are too easily manipulated by people who he fundamentally disagrees with, that the idea of him is too powerful to be used responsibly by the current rulers, he withdraws. 

Treize cannot switch off the magnetic field of his charisma or its continuous pull on the soldiers who take inspiration from him, but he refuses to willingly lend himself to a cause that he finds irresponsible. In fact, he refuses to join any cause until one presents itself that he can have complete faith in– and complete control over. 

The people whom Treize considers his True Friends are the ones who “understand” him– this includes his enemies, the ones who oppose him but nevertheless espouse values that he can respect. In fact, ANY strongly held ideal, even ones in opposition to him, and ANY display of courage, is more admirable in Treize’s estimation than lip service to his own ideals or those of his organization. The “fighting spirit” that is of paramount value in his worldview is not limited to combatants– he expresses immense respect for Relena Peacecraft, more so even than his respect for the Gundam pilots, who he comes to idolize. What matters is the strength of conviction. What matters is courage.

He respects and admires Lady Une, even when her errors in judgment have megaton consequences, because she is so singularly and ferociously dedicated to her goals. He tolerates the violence and inhumane actions of the Specials and OZ soldiers because they are fanatically ambitious and ready to die for their ideals. As long as the ultraviolence isn’t cowardly or self-serving, then Treize can and will overlook the body count– noble sacrifices, all. He’ll memorize their names later on today.

Treize’s ideals are flawed and contradictory. There is a tipping point in the series where he gains enough self-awareness to recognize this fact. This does not stop him from believing in his ideals– he can’t simply turn away completely from what he values and loves about humanity and its “fighting spirit”– but it does allow him to appreciate those who see his hypocrisy for what it is, and who despise him for it. 

“You’re only capable of looking down on others; you’re only fighting to satisfy your ego. How many people have died because of you?”

The fact that Treize has memorized the names of all 99 thousand people who have died for him does not do anything to improve Wufei’s opinion. For Treize, that number is a sacred personal burden; to Wufei, it is evidence of offensive, monstrous egotism. 

Wufei, of all the Gundam pilots, is best acquainted with how wide the margin of error is in Treize’s ideal of chivalry. Nataku herself, the namesake for Wufei’s gundam, fell neatly into that margin and died in it. Long before they met and dueled, Wufei knew of Treize as the OZ official jointly responsible for an attack on his Colony. While General Septem of the Alliance (then in control) would have murdered everyone on the Colony indiscriminately with biological weapons, Treize’s solution was more sporting: OZ sent in Mobile Suit troops to directly eliminate the rebel element, who were armed with nothing but a single decrepit prototype Leo and an unfinished Gundam with no ammo-- a much more chivalrous way of sterilizing a Colony, allowing the largely unarmed group of dissidents to die fighting rather than be killed with the push of a button.

Would the deaths of the Long Clan have been meaningful sacrifices in Treize’s eyes? Was exterminating civilians for the sake of convenience a noble cause to fight for?

One could argue that the existence of the then-in-development Gundam was enough of a threat to justify an attack, but at the time the idea of gundanium mobile suits was no more than a rumor. Could Treize, back on Earth, have reasonably predicted its invention? 

Not if we are to believe his own words, which clearly indicate that the Gundam’s existence was unknown to him until reported after the attack.  

For those who fall outside of his cult of personality it is easier to see past the charisma to the reality: no matter what his soldiers think of him, Treize is not a god. He is only a man, and no one person has the right to decree some deaths necessary to the future. 

–And Treize, for his part, would agree. He is a single individual, whose ideals people put too much faith in without fully realizing the essence of what they mean. But the belief people place in him gives Treize a level of power that must be acknowledged and used responsibly, and to the best of his ability, he tries to use it for the good of Earth and humankind. 

As a symbol, he is far more influential than he could ever be as a man, and his awareness of that fact leads him to choose the path of martyrdom, knowing that his very existence is a threat to peace. The only way he can neutralize his own power as a military icon is to join the sacrifices to the cause. And what more iconic way to do that than with a duel?

Treize may have resigned himself to being an anachronism and a dreamer, but if he is going to die for the sake of the future, he will at least go out according to his ideals: gracefully, nobly, at the hands of an enemy he respects. 

For personal and aesthetic reasons, Milliardo is Treize’s hopeful first choice as a dueling partner, but Milliardo had his own role to play in their final performance, which prevented him from participating in a duel for their mutual actualization. So Wufei is the right choice; Wufei both understands him and has a justified reason to want him dead. Besides, it’s an elegant, symmetrical solution– the continuation of a duel that he predicted they would be destined to finish in mobile suits.

--And what effect does that have on Wufei? Perhaps expectedly, a fracturing one. 

It shouldn’t be surprising that Treize’s ideals resonate so powerfully with someone who was raised in a warrior culture, especially someone who only knows how to express his beliefs and sense his self worth through combat.

Wufei, too, lives with contradictions that he cannot fully unify. 

Treize Khushrenada cannot live in the world he wishes to see realized. 

 If he were to win the war against White Fang, the cycle of oppression and resentment would continue. Even if he were to immediately relinquish his power to Relena and demilitarize the Earth Sphere, the end result would lead to more conflict; his refusal to take control of the Colonies would be seen as capitulation, and a betrayal of those who fought for him against the threat of annihilation from space. Even the considerable power of his charisma would evaporate overnight if he were to appear to be turning his back on the soldiers whose fanatic loyalty had allowed the unified mobilization of Earth’s military forces under his banner. But, as a general leading from the front lines in a noble defense of Earth, dying gloriously in battle for the sake of peace lends all that charisma to the future he fought for. 

--The message left to the surviving soldiers is not: “His Excellency led us into battle and then abandoned us when he won”, but instead: “this is the peace His Excellency died protecting.” 

Indeed, after his death, Treize’s name IS used in an attempt to lend legitimacy to the argument that soldiers have been devalued in a time of peace, and that continuous war to determine the strongest victor to lead humanity is his true legacy. But it doesn’t stick– the would-be dictator who tries to use Treize’s name in service of his military takeover is killed by a nameless soldier, whose change of heart is motivated by the memory of what Treize actually died for. 

--It is not a victor who moved the hearts of the people, but a glorious loser.

[riddle-me-ri]

Reader looking at the different Penguins with nothing but love in her eyes. They eventually notice and reader looks away out of shyness. She says that they look very handsome and couldn't help but staring. That's it. That's the request <3

- Timid Anon 🐁

A/N: aww, this is so cute! I get the feeling a good majority of them wouldn't mind lol

The Penguins Catch Reader Staring At Them

Arkhamverse Penguin:

It takes him a minute to notice, but he definitely…feels it?

There’s no mistaking that feeling of someone staring at you.

Not to mention, he’s so distracted by his business between the club and the arms dealing.

He’s always thankful to have you as a reprieve. 

Oswald isn’t too surprised when he notices you’re the one staring a hole into him.

The sweet look on your face, it’s the first time he’s seen anyone look at him like that. 

Like he’s a human, a person. 

When your eyes make contact with him, you’re quick to look away and try to stare at something else. 

He chuckles and asks if there was something you needed. 

You shook your blushing red face. You whisper softly about him just being handsome.

It was the mob boss’ turn now to blush. 

Reevesverse/Farrell Penguin:

Oz finds it absolutely adorable. 

It makes his day and night every time. 

He leads you to think he doesn’t notice, but he always does. 

He just wants you to stare at him longer. 

It makes his heart swell up with pride. 

For all the money, influence, power he has and continues to have. 

It doesn’t compare to how you stare at him, like he’s an actual king. 

When he decides to let you know the gig is up…he takes delight in your flustered state. 

You tell him that you only stare because he’s really handsome, and you couldn’t help it. 

Oz laughs heartily, and replies that your staring is what makes him feel most handsome. 

Gotham Penguin: 

There’s no mistaking the feeling of someone next to you. 

The feeling of someone watching you. 

It has Oswald on alert…most of the time.

He’s supposed to be the silent observer not the observee.

It doesn't take long for him to realize who was responsible 

You were quite obvious once his eyes met yours, you quickly glanced away.

Once your eyes left, the pressure of being watched is gone.

What’s left is a swelling warmth in his chest. 

He may not like being observed like a hawk

But he loved the way you looked at him with pure admiration.

BTAS Penguin:

Oswald wanted to doubt it for the longest time that it was you staring at him. 

Why would you stare at him? He’s not pretty or handsome…

He doesn’t confront you on it because he genuinely can’t bring himself to believe.

Until one day he couldn’t take it. 

He stole a glance in your direction and sure enough your eyes were on him. 

Your express showed softness, fondness…one he’s never seen before. 

Thinking he had to be mistaken, he fully turned to face you.

You quickly ducked your head back to whatever activity you were doing. 

Always observant, he noticed your face redden as you tried to avoid eye contact. 

A meek apology about how he is just really handsome.

His face soon tinted red as well, as his doubts were proven wrong. 

TNBA Penguin: 

He finds it incredibly endearing. 

It boosts his ego like nothing else. 

Ozzie relishes in your adoring expression whenever you look at him. 

He does his best not to catch you.

He wants you to stare for as long as possible. 

Yet he loves that flushed look on your face when he looks up at you

And he gives you a knowing grin.

When you compliment his appearance, it only causes his ego to grow.

Often he will return the motion and compliment to you.

Hoping to reciprocate the same amount of confidence you give him to yourself.

Telltale Penguin:

Ozzie finds it extremely flattering. 

He loves to catch you and tease you about it. 

“Aww, don’t stop on my account, love. Just returning the favor.”

Likely to make sure to do something attractive in your eyes to make sure your eyes stay on him. 

Having your sole attention on him gives him all the confidence in the world. 

Doesn’t like it when you get distracted from staring at him. 

He’ll do whatever he can to redirect your eyes back to him. 

To have your love, support, and pure admiration…

It’s a power trip for Oz.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

One Bad Day Penguin: 

It makes Oswald’s chest swell up every time. 

Like Gotham, he’s very keen on the gut instinct of being watched. 

His fight instinct is diminished when he sees your soft smile and gentle eyes.

Adoring, admiring, so sweetly at him. 

Ozzie can’t help but return the sweet expression and top it off with an acknowledging wink. 

This breaks your trance and your scrambling to pretend that you were doing anything else. 

This causes Oz to chuckle, you were far too cute for your own good. 

When you shrug and say you couldn’t help it, he was just really handsome. 

It’s Oswald’s turn to blush.

The Batman (2004) Penguin: 

Ozzie wants to catch you do it one day.

I mean he does it to you…on a day to day basis. 

He isn’t the least bit shy about it though.

When the hair on the back of his neck stand up, he’s cautious.

But when he glimpses at you smiling at him sweetly. 

It’s all over. 

Oz turns on his heels grinning proudly.

Despite being slightly embarrassed getting caught, he’s reaction makes you laugh. 

When you tell him it’s because he’s just so handsome…

He becomes puddy in your hands and tells you to stare at him more. 

Batman Unlimited Penguin:

Similar to BTAS Penguin, he’s extremely doubtful you’re looking at him.

Surely, you’re looking past him at something else?

Yet whenever he tries to follow your eyes there’s nothing…

And you’ve turned your gaze away with a blushing face. 

After so many occurrences of this, perhaps it wasn’t far-fetched for you to look at him. 

One day, he catches you and somehow has the courage to ask what you’re constantly looking at in his vicinity?

One part of you is embarrassed–the other is sad that he genuinely didn’t think you could be staring at him. 

When you tell him that you have indeed been staring at him…

That he’s too handsome to ignore…

Oswald’s doubts are quickly replaced with utmost elation.