#and the blue duck pattern really adds to it even more

[sedgewick-gayble]

i was thinking about the art tracy did of all of the lackadaisy characters as different dog/canine species and i thought about doing the same thing but with birds. bc i like birds...

i want to draw this eventually but art block is killing me rn

Rocky Rickaby - Blue Jay

I've had this AU in mind for a while now and Rocky was probably the one that took the longest for me to settle on a decision for- the blue feathers integrate the blue in his design from his eyes and suit, he keeps his stripes, and the white and black on his face align well with his Anthro design (i could also see the black stripes above the beak curving further up to make his eyebrows idk)

Freckle McMurray - European Robin

I have really mixed feelings on a european robin for him but it's the closest thing to his fur pattern I could find and it's also soft and cute and fluffy. It works

Ivy Pepper - Gray Catbird

I could've gone with practically any gray bird for Ivy since her design is so simple but...they're called CATbirds!!! And they meow!!!! I had to

Mordecai Heller - Pied Butcherbird

The only little tweak I'd make is specifically making him a pied butcherbird with luecism so that you could add in the additional white markings on his face (his eyebrows, undereyes and maybe a bit around the beak). I also think it's funny that they're called butcherbirds and his surname means butcher

Nico Savoy - Harpy Eagle

On top of the flat, ovular face and the light gray feathers on the head + the dark gray feathers on the top of the head all lining up with his anthro design, harpy eagles are FUCKING HUGE which just makes it make more sense to me in my mind. They're massive it's crazy

Serafine Savoy - Secretary Bird

It's perfect. The white and black feathers matching her fur and even the red markings around the eye?? Spot on. It speaks for itself

Mitzi May - Mourning Dove

Not sure how to explain my thought process with this other than...she's mourning Atlas. So she's a mourning dove. And the colors kinda match

Viktor Vasko - Red-Shouldered Hawk

I was torn between a red shouldered hawk and a red tailed hawk but red shouldered hawks are more primarily orange and they also have the black markings on the face that match Viktor (especially the ones around his snout)

Also not pictured here bc I got lazy but Atlas is a great horned owl, Wick is a mallard duck and Lacy is a swan :> thats all i have atm

(@themissingrainfallkingdom !!)

[sassaffrassa]

First lines meme

Rules:  Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

tagged by @deerna and tagging @kuwdora @bomberqueen17 @bittylildragon @eatingcroutons @witch-and-her-witcher if any of you feel the urge 💕

(ok so i have an unholy number of drabbles so i stuck to works with a word count over 500)

pattern: i love to jump straight into the action, in media res with the least amount of context possible to start, especially if i can do it in a way that subverts the readers expectation for what's about to happen. the more distant the POV, or the greater time frame that the story's describing, the more background info i'll add. (drabbles tend to start with a line of dialogue, turns out lol)

Taste the Rainbow

Witcher | Geralt/Jaskier | T, modern au, 3.8k

Geralt flinches when something comes at his head, but when his hands fly up to catch it, he finds he’s got one of Ciri’s wrists in each hand, and a string of bright colors laced between the two.

Blossoming

Witcher | Vesemir/Mignole | E, daddy kink, 4.8k

She can’t sleep, despite her best efforts. The blankets tangle around her legs as she tosses and turns, feeling hideously ashamed of herself.

Putting the 'FUN' in Dysfunctional

Witcher | Roche/Jaskier | E, spies, 9.1k

Roche has never had much time for music in his life. As a boy there has been fêtes in the market square and bawdy minstrels who came through the house, paying with their entertainment to draw custom before heading upstairs to get their own, and not much else.

A Hangdog Look

Witcher | Iorveth/Roche | E, animal transformation, 10.3k

The bed shifts beneath him, just enough to startle him awake, and Iorveth draws a knife before his eye even opens against the dim light of his rooms. He lurches upright when the weight of whatever is attacking him lands against his back, heavy and startlingly cold and Roche whimpers, ducking his head between his paws.

Roach

Witcher | Geralt/Roche (& Roach) | T, drug use, 2k

Geralt leans his head back, blowing a stream of smooth blue smoke into the air. It clouds around his head, hazing over the bright pinpricks of stars in the night sky.

Your Hand in Mine

Sherlock Holmes ACD | Holmes/Watson | T, remix, 500

Holmes had been standing by the window for a quarter of an hour at least, turning the necklace over and over in his hands. Watson looked down again, reining his focus back to the treatise in his hands.

you've got a friend in me

Witcher | Kiyan & Gaetan | T, possession, 2k

When a Cat goes missing, they usually stay missing, for one reason or another. There’s already too few of them, fewer by the year, witchers of all schools declining as the mages get more and more power hungry, and the caravan has to go further and further out of its own way to avoid Nilfgaard’s expanding territory. They make it hard to find them on purpose, and sometimes that means Cats can’t make it home, if they been gone too long.

the wonders of the universe

Torchwood | Ianto Jones | T, aliens, 3.1k

The first one he brings back to the Hub, he really actually does think it’s a cool looking rock at first.

Team Building Exercise

Witcher | Roche/Blue Stripes | E, sex pollen, 12k

There’s an elven shrine somewhere in the woods, and bloody Roche is the one who stumbles onto it.

Safe Harbor

Witcher | Roche & Anaïs | T, TLOU au, 900

They’re still two miles out from the township when Roche spots the first tripwire. He jumps to yank Anaïs out of its path.

[floralcyanide]

I'm Gonna Love You Forever

Austin Butler x Reader Fluff

>> hii everyone this is just a little thing I wrote to post while working on my WIPs! I hope you guys enjoy it even though it's short.

pairing: Austin Butler x reader

warnings: none, just really fluffy (Y/F/N means "your full name")

word count: 526

masterlist || add yourself to the taglist HERE!

The lighting is dim but not so much that you can’t see in front of you. There’s enough golden light from the bedside lamp to spill over your handsome boyfriend’s face and body. You can count his freckles and beauty marks easily. Austin’s eyes aren’t as blue as they are in direct sunlight but still blue enough to take your breath away. He’s lying in front of you, studying your features just as much as you’re studying his. His eyelashes- god, those eyelashes- you can see the shadow of them fluttering against his face from their astounding length. His lips are a whole other story. The cupid’s bow was a work of art, deep and even with a plump bottom lip to match. Austin’s hair is a beautiful blonde and laid perfectly every time, even if it was supposed to be messy. You love running your hands through it all of the time. A few freckles dotted his muscular arms and chest, and sometimes you’d lay next to him and draw patterns using the freckles as guides.  His skin is flawless, and you envy him for it. Austin’s voice has changed so much over the last few years due to his role in Elvis, but if anything, you love it more now than before. It was deep, rich, and sexy. His personality matches his voice, and it’s what you love most about him. He’s so kind to everyone he meets, Austin is humble despite his newfound fame, and he loves you like there’s no one else in the world. You’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice he’s stroking your face softly, his fingertips just barely touching your skin. He has a small, closed-lip smile on his face, and his eyes are full of admiration for you. 

“I love you,” Austin whispers, slowly tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

“I love you too,” you smile at him lovingly.

He moves his fingertips down your face and jaw, past your neck, and then lets them travel down your arm to your hand. He grasps your hand with his, bringing your intertwined fingers to his lips, kissing your skin. His eyes look at you dreamily, as if you hung the moon and stars in the sky yourself. An odd look flashes across Austin’s face before he turns over and begins rummaging through his nightstand. He grabs something quickly and ducks his hand under the covers before you can see it.

“Whatcha got there?” you ask curiously.

A smile grows on Austin’s face and turns into a full-fledged grin, “I wanted to do this at a fancy dinner or something, but I think right now is the perfect time,” he pulls his hand out, revealing a small velvet box, “Y/F/N, will you marry me?”

All the air in your lungs leaves you, and your heart swells in your chest with happiness, “Yes,” you gasp, “Of course, I’ll marry you!”

He slowly slides the beautiful ring onto your finger and then gently grabs your face before kissing you delicately. He pulls away and looks directly into your eyes, “I’m gonna love you forever, doll.”

taglist: @cozacorner @onxlymnsn

[nattikay]

So I saw this post while browsing toa tags the other day. While I don’t think being obsessed with the school mascot automatically makes Toby a furry (though it is funny to joke about lol) since “being a furry” actually just means “being a fan of anthropomorphic animals” and doesn’t necessarily require any form of costuming or interest in such, it did get me thinking, hmmm...if he was a furry, what would his fursona be? 🤔 And from there I started wondering what Jim’s and Claire’s would be as well because y not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

BUT WAIT, I hear you say--haven’t you already drawn the trio as werewolves and wolfwalkers etc.? Wouldn’t those be their fursonas??

Well yes....but actually no.

I guess it’s a little hard to explain, but there’s a nuance between “[person] but as an animal” and a proper “fursona”. While a fursona is an animal character used to represent its person, it doesn’t have to physically resemble them at all as you would expect [person]-but-as-[animal] to. For example, if you were to design me but as a cat, you’d probably give it light brown fur and green eyes like I have irl. But my fursona, unlike my human self, actually has blue fur and purple eyes. You can give your fursona matching physical traits to your own if you want to, and some people do, but most use only a pinch of their irl appearance, if any at all.

The choices people make when designing their fursonas vary wildly from “it looks like me irl” to “it looks like who I want to be”  to “I just really like this color scheme” to “this particular color/marking holds deep personal meaning to me” to “this particular pattern represents a particular defining moment in my life” to “idk it looks cool and i vibe with it” etc. etc. etc. Everyone has different reasons of varying depth for the decisions they make in designing their fursona.

Therefore, to design a fursona for Toby etc., it’s less a question of “what would this character look like as [insert species here]?” and more of “how would this character choose to present himself with his own [animal] character?”

And that’s a much trickier game than just transferring a character aesthetic to a new species. ^^; We have to kinda dive into the characters and makes some guesses about how they, if given infinite creative freedom to design an animal avatar with no rules or limits, would choose to present themselves.

So all that said, here’s what I came up with:

Starting with Toby because he’s the one who inspired the post. I think Toby might choose a wolfdog fursona. A lot of people who choose wolves as fursonas consider themselves to be overwhelmingly loyal to their friends, a trait that fits Toby very well. However, while Toby likes to be “cool”, I don’t think he really thinks of himself as much of an “alpha” type--he’s more of a sidekick, and he knows that, and he’s ok with that. He’s the wingman. So what better way to incorporate that than to add dog into the mix? Man’s best friend=Jim’s best friend. Sociable, humorous, and unwaveringly loyal. Wolfdog it is!

With the species decided, we can move on to the design itself.

I can’t imagine any form of Toby in anything other than warm colors. This is extra emphasized by the flamelike patterns on his legs and tail, which both speaks to his desire to be totally awesome-sauce as well as acts as an allusion to his flaming warhammer. It’s fairly common (not universal, but common) for people to give their fursonas a more “ideal” physique than the person actually has as a sort of way to live by proxy physical goals or fantasies they’ve been unable to attain irl for whatever reason. Given that we’ve seen Toby struggle with fitness from time to time, it wouldn’t shock me to see him take this route. His wolfdog self is still relatively short and stocky, but it’s all muscle, babey. 

This fursona is strong, fun, boisterous, and generally just kicks butt. Concentrated awesomesauce flows through his veins. Just don't mess with his friends, or you’ll feel the flames!

.

Moving on to Jim. Jim was the hardest to nail down, and most definitely the hardest to keep my personal biases out of oof. Which I may have failed to do anways because yes, ok, I made my favorite character a blue feline, sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  But hear me out first!

For Jim I ultimately settling on a cheetah/lion hybrid.

Cheetahs, in a way, are sort of the underdogs (er...cats?) of the feline world--at least, in their local ecosystems. They are built wholly for speed, not strength--and as such, just about every other large predator in their environment has them beat when it comes to raw strength. Remind you of a certain Trollhunter? plus the long lanky legs. don’t forget those lol

However, because of this disadvantage, cheetahs...usually surrender. They know it’s not worth it to defend their kill from larger, stronger opponents, so they’ll give it up and just catch something else. This aspect doesn’t quite fit our protective, selfless protagonist all too eager to risk everything to save his loved ones--so a pure cheetah may not be the right choice.

So what animal is brave and protective? That’s where the lion part comes in, of course!

Why not just make him a pure lion? Well, a little similar to making Toby a wolfdog instead of a pure wolf. A straight-up lion feels a little too “chad” for our sweet Jimbo. Too much of a jock. 

Jim has the humble underdog nature of a cheetah as well as the bravery and fierce protective drive of a lion. Cheelion? Leetah? idk, but let’s design it!

Like Toby and warm colors, I don’t think I can possibly associate Jim with any color but blue. While it’s never directly stated, given that we’ve never really seen him wear any other color (with the exception of the Eclipse armor), I think it’s pretty safe to assume that that’s his favorite. Blue sweater, blue jeans, blue shoes, even his backpack and bedsheets are blue. So naturally, his fursona would be predominantly blue as well! Plus some yellowish accents to (somewhat) match the natural colors of his chosen species(s).

I imagine he originally designed the character without horns, but then added them after becoming the Trollhunter, since it became such a major and impactful aspect of his life.

His lion’s mane also continues down his back in imitation of the “mantle” found on baby cheetahs. This youthful feature could subtly represent the fact that he’s been forced to grow up too fast and take on so much responsibility so young--so his fursona can still be young and carefree as long as he likes even while his real self struggles with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

This fursona is relaxed, calm, and confident. He’s not just cool--he’s crispy!

.

Lastly but not leastly, we have Claire. Out of the three, I think Claire was actually the easiest to choose--or at least, I had the clearest idea of what I thought she might go for.

Claire is a bit of an interesting duck, because while she’s shown to be fairly popular at school, she’s definitely far from the stereotype of The Popular Girl™. Yes she’s smart and pretty, but she’s also a little spunky or even a bit quirky--she’s a theatre kid, she’s a huge fan of hard rock band Papa Skull, and while I wouldn’t quite call her “rebellious” per se, she’s certainly willing to bend some rules if she feels the situation calls for it (not telling her parents that she was going to the concert with Steve, literally sneaking into Jim’s basement to try to find out what was up with him, etc).

That said, I think Claire might go for a hyena fursona--something a little out of the box, but not totally out of left field. (she also shows a slight Gurl Power™ streak here and there “the staff was not meant to be wielded by man--” “I am not a man!!!”) and if you know anything about hyenas...well, yeah lol)

I think Claire would lean into her punk-rock “rebellious” side with her fursona design. This character is completely free of the pressure of being the councilwoman’s daughter and having to maintain her mother’s public reputation, and thus allows Claire to express a less restrained side of herself. She has a bold semi-edgy color scheme with bright accents (and some earrings to match her person’s hair clips) while still remaining feminine and (her own brand of) fashionable. 

This fursona is spunky and sassy; she’s spicy and sweet all rolled up into one. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to chase it down. She lives her own life and she’s dang proud of it.

.

....sooooo yeah there’s my take on what Toby’s, Jim’s, and Claire’s fursonas could hypothetically be. And I guess since this post was inspired by a joke about Toby’s infatuation with the school mascot, here’s just some quick thoughts on how they might approach fursuiting to end us off:

Jim I don’t see as much of a suiter. He might try it once or twice if given the opportunity, but at the end of the day it’s not really his cup of tea--he’d rather act as the “handler” for his friends, if anything.

Toby and Claire, on the other hand, I could definitely see as suiters. In fact, with her interest in acting, Claire would probably particularly enjoy it--she’d be one of those suiters who really gets into character, absolutely refuses to break the magic publicly (outside of any actual medical emergency), and popular at cons because she just performs so well. 

Toby, meanwhile, would be the more chill type--uses his normal voice in-suit, isn’t really too stressed about “breaking the magic”, just kinda hanging around like he would normally except “look I’m a talking dog, cool right?”. 

also while I was typing this it occurred to be that since Eli is canonically a cosplayer then he could be a fursuiter as well; in his case i imagine he actually made his own suit it’s a protogen and it’s full of little LEDs and other electric gadgets, it’s not the prettiest thing ever as sewing is not his forte but boy did he try!! good for him. good for him

[madammobius]

Chao Update: #3!

Heyo! Madam Mobius here again, and welcome back to the Mobius Garden! I’ve been really busy, and tonight I’ve got some special stuff for you, but first I just wanted to have a bit of transparency and go over a few things.

Since last time, I’ve started using Chao World Extended, a mod meant to enhance and improve the overall Chao World experience! However I’ve always been a *bit* of a purist when it comes to modding games, so I went through the customization options and only checked things that met one or more of these requirements

1: Aesthetic only: Things that only effect looks like the day/night cycle option

2: Was in the Dreamcast/GC port, but was somehow made unobtainable on PC. A good example of this is the jewel chao. The dreamcast had a little gadget called the VMU packaged in, and if you had enough of the in-game emblems you could unlock jewel chao, a special chao variant, with it. However, since the gamecube and PC have no VMU they have become completely unobtainable. Chao World Extended adds a different way to earn them through the Jewel Races! I thought this was fair because it’s still a challenge, and there would be no other way to do it anyway.

Here are some screenshots of the only options I have checked for the mod (as well as my SA2 application as a whole): 

I’ve talked to some of the chao island admins and one has confirmed that beyond one thing (which we’ll get to when the time comes) there are no other vanilla changes, just additions

Okay cool, that’s probably the most infodumpy I’m ever gonna get here lol, like I said just trying to be transparent

Now who’s ready to see some cute chao? 

They’re conversing :00 

Full video with sound here! (You can hear them talk !!)

He loves when I shake him hehe :)) 

Onto some of the more substantial changes though! I’m still trying to decide what type to evolve these little babies into, so throughout this post you may notice that I change course a little bit in the types of animals I give and which stats are highest. Rest assured though! By the end of this post I will definitively have the answer for my evolution plans!

Took a look at UwU’s stats, and it looks like her personality has cycled from the last time I checked! It was cry-baby before but now it’s energetic

Veeeeerrryyy interesting combination !

You absolute troll  ( ⚆ ◡ ⚆ )

Work hard

...nap harder

Time to learn some wonderful singing! I wanted to focus on UwU for a bit so I left OwO in class

I’ve decided that UwU is going to be a power-type! Her highest stat grade is an A in Power so I decided I want to raise it to an S when she evolves

Soon she will be strong enough to demolish the competition in karate (｀\/´)

More stat grinding...

OwO has returned! He is now a wonderful singer :)) 

Accidentally gave UwU a vulture but the new wings and hair kinda look cool with the arms lol

Laaaaaaaaa!!!

I threw a bear at him lol (￣\/￣ )

Checked the black market and they had a very interesting item for sale! It seems my emblem collecting has paid off and there is a shiny blue egg for sale

( I actually saw a rarer orange one much earlier but didn’t get it so  (ゝз･) )

I mean I really SHOULDN’T buy this one... I have enough emblems for much rarer eggs to appear... plus I’m already swamped raising the other two chao and... hmmm

I bought it.

They have all gathered around for the hatching!

Well..... at least she was there at first...

Guess she was curious and decided she doesn’t care  ¯\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯

She’s aliiiiiiiive!!!! 

Welcome to the world, small child

DRAMATIC POSE

𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙑𝘼𝙏𝙀

...this is literally the most adorable creature on the planet I would die for you （；へ：）

Stat check!

Not terrible! I don’t think I’ll evolve her based on stats though, she’s way too adorable NOT to be evolved for looks

Checks out

Taking her to the fortune teller to get her named next... 

hmmm... blue... shiny..... water name? uhhhh hydro? no no.... ocean? nah nah...

wait.

Heheheheheh....

Heheheheheheh...

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH...!

Everyone say hi to Soleanna! (Second N was removed in-game because of character limit, but her name is Soleanna)

For those unaware, Soleanna was the name of the City of Water in Sonic 06! I thought it was fitting because it’s water themed but also silly and a sonic reference lol

You know truth be told... UwU and OwO’s names were just kinda pulled out of a jokey joke hat because I needed to call them SOMETHING. I was gonna wait a little longer, but now that we have a naming theme...

Elise and Mephiles it is!  (again, Mephiles had to be cut short because of character limit but...)

I thought it made sense because they’re both hero and dark chao, plus it fits with the Sonic 06 reference theme

Mephiles would be proud to have an evil chao named after him :)) 

I guess Elise has taken a liking to Soleanna’s eggshell.... I can’t tell if that’s endearing or SUPER weird...

bird :)) 

looks like Mephiles is going to the races!

LITERALLY ANNIHILATED THOSE OTHER CHAO

ONCE AGAIN

He won a shovel!

Elise is gonna do some Karate! Use the strength of all those bears I gave you!

OHHHHHH!!

TWO HIT K-O!! 

She preceded to absolutely annihilate the entire tournament!

Owned

whatcha got there, Soleanna?

SHE’S RIDIN’ THE DUCK!! (ⅈ▱ⅈ)

Awwww, Elise and Mephiles are singing and playing music for her while she rides!! They’re all so cute !! 

So uh.... I kinda did some stat grinding with a dark character on Elise and well...

...she looks a bit like moldy cheese now

I’ll get her fixed up with Tails, don’t worry  ε-(´ D｀) ﾌ

no thoughts, head empty

wait a minute... i hadnt even noticed! Elise’s evolution stat traits are starting to come in! that means she’s getting closer to evolving into a power chao! (power chao have these sort of stripey patterns on them)

We did some more karate to celebrate

It went about how you would expect after her last performance  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In other news though, I’ve decided Mephiles’ final type! I’m gonna go with run! Mephiles’ namesake is a Shadow impersonator, and since a Dark-Run chao looks like Shadow I thought it would be funny :)) 

So I went to City Escape to collect some rabbits! And uh...

They are looking....

...and I do not know if it is respectfully ●﹏●

Mephiles understands that even dark lords of evil can have cute pink bunny rabbit ears

I’m sure you’ve noticed, but Mephiles’ evolution stat traits are coming in too! He’s growing spines and getting a little bluer!

You’re so adorable I’m gonna lose it...

Alrighty! Before we go, here’s a final stat-check for the road!

----------

That’s all for now folks! Thank you for reading it all if you made it here :))

Remember to check out https://chao-island.com/ if you want to learn more about chao and the raising experience! It’s a great resource

My chao posts will always be tagged with #MobiusGarden in case you wish to block them

Love u!

[thiswasinevitableid]

Demonic Intervention (Indruck)

Prompt for the 7th: “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” - The Tempest (William Shakespeare). This fill is NSFW

It can't get much worse. 

Indrid is barely scraping by. He can count his friends in town on one hand. He’s gay in a tiny, rural community and one of the few men like him is a goddamn priest. His house is a mess. And his every waking moment is filled with the demons of his past or the devils lurking in his future. There are so many of them in his present too, roaming the streets of Kepler. 

What’s one more in the mix?

He lights the stubby black candle by the bed, scratches the symbols on the floor, and retreats into his cocoon of blankets to wait.

--------------------------------------------

Duck hates when it’s his turn on the summoning shifts. All this ancient knowledge and power and he’s stuck waiting to see if some yahoo in a graveyard or a wannabe cult leader will call him up into the world. 

He has brambles that need pruning, damn it. 

His name isn’t well known among humans, so he only gets summoned if someone is just rooting around for a demonic entity without caring who they get. He’s only been summoned twice in the last hundred years. The tingle in his horns tells him it’s about to be three. 

The room he arrives in is gloomier than any graveyard; the lights are off, the curtains are shut, and the place looks like it got hit by a tornado with a grudge. By the light of the candle, a pale-haired head emerges from the blankets of the small bed. A hand reaches for the floor, comes back with a pair of red glasses.

“Greetings, infernal one. Thank you for answering my summons.” The man’s voice is flat.

“Even demons got manners. So, uh, what’s the job?”

“There are so many dishes in the sink that the thought of doing them is an insurmountable task. Please do them for me.”

“...You realize I’m takin somethin’ from you for this, right? Like a piece of soul or a month of your life?”

“Mmmm” The man rolls over and says nothing else. 

“A day of your life for this.” Duck feels like he should haggle more, but then he’d had to pretend he actually thought a higher price was fair. 

“I accept your terms.” A crackle of green and black electricity flickers in the air in the form of  Duck’s signature and the other man’s name: Indrid Cold.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.” 

Indrid says nothing. Duck is sure to wash and dry before he goes. 

The next day he’s summoned to the exact same room, in the exact same state of depressing mess. 

“Greetings, infernal one. Please clean this room.”

“Same terms?”

“Mmhmm” Indrid is just staring at the ceiling. 

“You gotta say you accept.”

“I accept.” 

Duck snaps, turning on the light, and gets to work. Technically he could do all this with a wave of his hand. But then he’d lose his chance to learn a little more about the guy who’s settled on demonic deals instead of a maid service. It’s the opposite of the usual problem he has in these kinds of situations, where the humans reveal their deepest secrets, desires, and fears within five minutes of meeting him. 

The records he stacks near their player, the clothes all go in the hamper to be magicked clean, then are hung in the closet; they’re loose and soft, not a scratchy fabric to be found. Tarot cards and candles abound, as do art supplies, and under a pile of drawings he finds magazines featuring muscular, hairy men in various sexual positions. Some of them even look like his preferred human form, the one he’s wearing now. 

He glances at the bed; Indrid is on his side, facing him, must have been watching him at some point but has dropped into a restless sleep. The blankets are slipping, showing a The Sonics tank top hanging off skinny shoulders. Right, that was one of the bands in the record stack. 

Duck doesn’t tend to pry into souls or auras or shit like that; there are whole heaps of trouble that lay that direction. But as he flicks the dust from the bookshelf covered in paperbacks, he feels the edges of Indrids and nearly falls on his ass from the wave of exhaustion and loneliness. 

When it’s time to go, he pauses to pull the blankets back up around him, sets his glasses on the bedside table, and turns the calendar on the wall from “September 1974” to “October 1974.”

When he’s summoned right back to Indrid’s room the next evening, he spots the same tank top on him as he sits up in bed.

“Greetings infernal one.”

“You can just call me ‘Duck’. It’s a nickname.” 

“Oh” Indrid blinks, perplexed, “very well. I, ah, there are some bills that need to be paid to keep the lights on.”

“You need the money for them?”

“No, just for someone to fill out the forms and checks and put them in the mail.”

“Okay. But my fee’s a little different this time: you gotta tell me when you last ate.”

“I accept. I ate this morning.”

Duck snaps his fingers

“Two days ago!” Indrid yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth. He glares, “why does it matter?”

“Because while I’m payin those bills, you’re eatin’ dinner.”

“Everything in the fridge is disgusting and I can’t go to the store.” 

Duck takes the short trip out to the kitchen, opens the fridge to the new sound of Indrid’s footfalls behind him. 

“You got lots of decent stuff in here; could make you some eggs?”

“No, thank you.” Indrid shakes his head, looking a bit ill. 

“Well, what do you want? I can summon it up.”

“I’m out of Lucky Charms.” The humans says sheepishly, staring at his bare feet. 

A fresh box of cereal appears on the table, Duck pulling out the half empty bottle of milk. He thinks back to the drawings he saw yesterday and conjures a bowl covered in a pattern of brightly colored moths. 

He gathers the stack of bills of while hearts, stars, and horseshoes rattle into the bowl. After a few moments of crunching he hears, “May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why is your nickname Duck? Does that word mean something else in demonic speech?”

Duck stuffs paper into envelopes, “Nah. It’s, uh, kinda silly but, uh, most demons learn how to take on an animal form. When it was my turn, they asked me which I wanted and, uh, I said I wanted to try bein’ a duck. Liked it so much I stayed that way for three months.”

There’s an odd, strangled sound that makes him look up; Indrid has one hand over his mouth and is shaking with little squeaks. He’s laughing. 

“I’m, I’m s-sorry but, but I, I cannot get over the image of you as a little, feathery waterbird.”

Duck smirks, “Only part that ever gave me trouble was the quackin’; always came out too deep.”

He just manages to pull the envelopes back as milk comes out the human’s nose and he giggles uncontrollably. 

“Ow, ow, heeh, oh g-goodness, I’m s-sorry I, I just haven’t laughed in so long, ugh, there’s milk on my shirt-”

“Guess you’re gonna need to shower now too.” 

“Nono, I can just change-”

Duck waves the bills back and forth, “Uh uh, if you want me to actually put these in the mailbox, you gotta agree to shower.”

“But that’s changing the terms!”

“Demon.” Duck grins. 

“Very well. Let me finish my dinner first.” Indrid scarfs the rest of the cereal, pads back towards the bedroom while Duck cleans the table. He waits to hear water running before going to the mailbox. When he gets back he sticks his head into the steamy bathroom.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you again.” Indrid pokes his head out from the shower curtain and Duck resists the temptation to make the whole barrier disappear just for a peak. What can he say? He’s always liked his humans a bit unique looking. 

He draws a special sigil in the steamed-up mirror and heads for home. 

---------------------------------------------------

Indrid sets the candle on the table, lights it, adds the symbol he found in the mirror, and then starts unpacking his groceries. 

“Lookit you doin’ chores.” The whiff of burnt pine needles accompanies Duck’s voice and draws the tension from Indrid’s shoulders. 

“I’ll have you know I swept today as well.” Indrid turns and crunches the bag of potato chips in his fists; Duck hasn’t put his horns or claws away, and his shirt is half unbuttoned. 

“Caught me while I was gardenin, which is why I ain’t as put together as normal. What can I do for you?”

“This may sound strange but, ah, what is the fee for just talking with you?”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up and then he chuckles, “You’re full of surprises, little moth.”

Indrid touches the luna moth on his shoulder; how much had Duck studied him when he was here? Did he like what he saw? Does he give everyone he makes deals with nicknames that come out in a drawl like summer honey?

“Hows a little nibble of the old soul sound?”

“I accept. Ah, would you like some cookies? A friend of mine brought them over to me.”

“Sure. The fella on the fridge bring ‘em?” The demon indicates the picture of himself and Barclay, the one he can’t bring himself to throw away. 

“No. My friend Dani, she’s in charge of the gardens for the little co-op in town and when the bakery has seconds she often drops them off for me.” 

He really needs to stop staring at Duck’s chest, even demons probably find ogling rude. Duck’s eyes--one blue, one brown-- catch his own and suddenly claw tips are undoing the remaining buttons. Indrid goes pink but manages to get the cookies and two glasses of water on the table without incident. 

“You know, you never told me why you stayed a duck for so long.”

“It’s the least demonic thing you’ve ever heard but, uh, I just thought it was nice. Bein’ out in the woods, paddlin’ on the lake and watchin the world go by. Sleepin under the stars. Just makes you feel like you’re part of somethin’ bigger than yourself. Now, I got a question for you; why go to all the trouble of summonin’ me just to do your chores?”

Indrid bites his lip, “I knew I was in the kind of mental place where I could not manage it myself. And it felt safer to ask you than to ask my friends. Not that they wouldn’t help me. It’s just, when my mind is like that it turns so inward I can’t conceive of a world that might contain things for me.”

The demon says nothing for a moment, sips his water with a thoughtful look. Then he sets down the empty glass, “Glad you’re feelin a little better.” He tilts his head to indicate the sketch on the counter, “that new?”

“Yes” excitement bubbles up in his chest, “I was reading about--ah, well, it’s, it’s sort of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”

Duck kicks his feet up on the spare chair and gestures for him to continue. So he does, tells the demon about reading every book he could find on the mythology and folklore of the Mexico and the American southwest, about his new inspiration for a series of drawings, his worries that no one will like them or purchase them and he’ll be stuck running his little psychic side business until he dies 

Duck, in turn, tells him about life as a forest demon, about his hellcat, and about the fact he routinely comes up to the human world for french onion soup because the stuff made in his realm never tastes right. When Indrid next looks at the clock, it’s well after midnight. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“No complaints here. But I oughta get home and feed Winnie before she shreds my cabinets again.” The demon stands, rounding the table, “gotta get my fee first.”

“Right. How should I…” Indrid stiffens as Duck bends forward, wondering if the sharp teeth that smiled at him all night are about to pierce his skin. 

Warm lips meet his forehead and he sighs at the tenderness in the gesture. Duck, however, moans as he pulls back, then quickly covers his mouth.

“Uh, that, that’s a totally, uh, totally not, uh, un-normal reaction, uh, fuck, see you around.” 

He’s gone with a campfire crackle, leaving Indrid to wonder how a demon can be such a terrible liar.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Sweet fuckin hell.” Duck gasps as his living room forms around him. His lips still tingle from kissing the human’s forehead, from the sheer force of the want and yes that came when he took that sip of soul. It’s never like that, never comes so willingly and eagerly, like the soul is searching for someone to look after it. 

Technically, there’s nothing stopping him from zipping right back up there and pinning Indrid to his bed while he takes what the human seems so happy to give. 

Duck takes five deep breaths, then ten, and then goes to retrieve Winnie from the cabinet she clawed her way into.

------------------------------------------------------------

When Barclay suggested Indrid find someone to confide in, Indrid’s going to guess he didn’t mean, “routinely invite a demon into your house to play cards or listen to music.”

Most times, Indrid isn’t even summoning him; they have two standing dates a week, plus a game night with Dani and her new girlfriend, Aubrey (who Duck seems to know but refuses to say more about how). Duck will sometimes drop by unannounced, and he hardly ever collects a fee these days. When he does, it’s always a taste of Indrid’s soul, taken via a kiss on the cheek. 

Indrid would let him take it any way he wanted. He’s well past denying the fact Duck is type in all his forms, that he’s gentler than most humans, and that he’s so charming Indrid would eat out of his hand. 

Duck even goes out with him, like the boyfriend he wishes he had. When he puts on his human form to accompany Indrid around town, he radiates enough residual, demonic energy that the people who normally make Indrid’s life a living hell stay far, far away. In fact, tonight is the first night in months he’s had something close to a disaster, and it was mostly an accident. He’s peeling his beer-soaked shirt over his head when he feels mis-matched eyes on his back.

“Have a little too much fun bartendin’ tonight?” Duck holds out his hand, rendering the shirt fresh and clean when it touches his palm.

“Some caveman hit on one of our regulars and would not back off when asked. She threw a full pint of beer on him and I happened to be standing right behind him when she did.” He wiggles out of his jeans, let’s Duck give them the same treatment he gave the shirt, “ugh, I need a bath, I smell like Rheingold.”

“Allow me.” Duck waves his hand and steam wafts from the bedroom, goes into it and grabs the bubble bath from under the sink as Indrid follows him in his underwear. Duck’s constant glancing at his crotch and legs makes him bold. 

“What’s the fee for such excellent service?”

“No fee, little moth. I’m just doin’ a favor for my friend.”

“And what if your friend wants to repay you anyway?”

When the demon looks up from the tub, his eyes are glowing, “Only if he’s doin’ it because he wants to and not because he owes me.”

“I want to, so very badly.”

In a flash Duck is in the tub, beckoning Indrid to join him. Indrid tests the water with his finger just to be safe.

“Mmm, nice and warm.”

“Hellfire, sugar. Now get your cute ass into the tub or--oh fuck yeah.” Duck growls as Indrid strips and climbs in with him, drags him into his lap and traces his claws up his sides while Indrid yanks him into a kiss.Curious, Indrid reaches one hand up to rub the base of his horn, the dark brown curls like smooth bark beneath his fingers. 

“Fuuuck” Duck groans, “feels like gettin a back-rub.”

“Then I better keep at it. Oh, oh my” Indrid sits back to admire the vines of green appearing in Duck’s skin, “you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Kinky little thing, you like that I’m a demon.” Duck scrapes his teeth along Indrid’s shoulder, “that really why you summoned me? You were hopin I’d have my, uh, demonic way with you?”

“N-no, I, I, it’s no secret I’m attracted to you but I, you make me feel so happy, I’m so safe when I’m with you, and, and if all your care and affection towards me has been part of some malevolent plan please, please just tell me because I, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He kisses Duck with far more force than before, forestalling the inevitable confession that this was all just a game for his soul and his own, pathetic admission that he’s not sure that changes anything. 

“Oh, sugar” Duck keeps brushing their lips together as he speaks, “First time I tasted your soul I knew I was fucked. Knew I wanted to keep seein’ you, even if you never gave me another goddamn thing.”

Indrid buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, letting out shuddery sighs as Duck pets his back. He’s never leaving this spot, Duck is just going to have to carry him about while he does his infernal business and his housekeeping.

“Tell me what you want, little moth.” Duck kisses the shell of his ear. It still tingles, even when his soul stays put.

“Please fuck me? Oh! Oh that’s very efficient and extremely strange.” He squirms in Duck’s lap as his ass turns slick and stretched, like someone has pulled four fingers from it.

“Do it the traditional way some other time” The curved head of a cock bumps his ass, “you wanna feel just to be sure you can take it?”

He flails in the water a moment, finds a warm, responsive shaft with four, bumpy ridges leading to the head. It’s no bigger than the one toy he splurged on during his last trip to the city.

“Yes, certainly, oh, oh, AHHhnnnn yes.” The cock is hotter than his body as it slides in and he wonders if it will just melt him from the inside out, if Duck’s cum will be just as warm, how it will feel on his tongue and down his throat when he drags the demon into his bed.

“That’s it sugar, take it all the way. Fuck, been jerkin off to the thought of you on my dick for months.”

“Nnngh” Is his eloquent reply, the ridges of Duck’s cock making his toes curl and his fingers dig into Duck’s skin. 

“You like that idea, little moth? Knowin I could be out temptin anyone I wanted to and instead I was in bed thinkin’ about you?”

“Mhhmmm” He whines, the desire pouring off the demon wrapping around him and soothing his insecurities. 

Duck slows the thrusts of his hips and his voice is gentle when he whispers, “Course I did; no one can compare to you, ‘Drid.”

“Ohgod, Duck, please, please, please, want to be yours, always yours-”

“Careful,sugar, that sounds like you’re anglin’ for an infernal marriage.”

“A, a what? OHhhhnnyes” He moans as claws knead his ass.

“It’s a special kind of deal where a human agrees to marry a demon. Soon as they’re dead, they go straight to their spouse, no other options provided.” Duck cups his face, holding it steady so he can look into his eyes, “but there ain’t no need for that right now; way I see it, we can do this like we were just two normal fellas for now.”

“But it sounds fun.” Indrid offers a teasing pout and gets an adoring kiss in return. 

“Yeah? What if I tell you a lot of demons mark their spouses by piercing these” He pinches Indrid’s nipples, the pain making him bounce more determinedly on his dick. His demon growls, drops one hand down to thumb at the head of his aching cock, “pierce here too. Won’t even do it in public like you’re supposed to; do it at home so no one else will see just what a sweet, needy thing you are for me--whoah, fuck, did not expect you to cum just from playin with this nice dick a little.”

“V-very sensitive” Indrid gasps against the green swirls in Duck’s shoulder, his orgasm such a surprise he’s still registering it, hips twitching and tongue threatening to loll out of his mouth.

“Keep that in mind for next time. Might even bring a cage so you don’t cum too early and spoil my plans. Now, hold tight, little moth.” 

Indrid clings to the warm bulk of Duck’s body as his cock pounds up into him, the demon easily holding his hips up and his ass open so all he can do is whimper and writhe on it. When he cums it’s hot enough that Indrid squirms

“Don’t hurt does it?” Duck pets his sides, concerned. 

“Nono, it, it’s nice, just very strange.” Indrid winces as Duck pulls out, watches him wave his fingers to clear away the mess. When the demon makes no move to let go, Indrid looks up, “you really meant what you said? About wanting me as a boyfriend?”

“Damn right I do. Now c’mere, lemme get the beer outta your hair.”

Indrid hums as Duck scrubs his scalp and runs warm water over his skin, talking all the while about how they should go camping as a first date so no one will bother them, says he’ll even turn into a duck to make Indrid smile. 

Indrid says he knows just the spot, let’s his boyfriend dry them off and bundle them to bed and then, for the first time, falls asleep with a devil in his arms.

[penn-dragon]

Tangled Adjacent AU

That reminded me I still have more parksborn snippets to post

Context: This is from what I lovingly call my Tangled Adjacent AU which is inspired by, you guessed it, Tangled. The basic premise is that after Harry’s mother died Norman became obsessively overprotective of Harry and keeps him locked away in Oscorp to the point that no one even knows Norman Osborn HAS a son, feeding him inflated stories that keep him scared of the world and ESPECIALLY the menace Spider-Man. Until one day Peter accidently stumbles across him and becomes determined to help draw this misinformed, sheltered kid out of his shell.

Peter pushed open the grate and pulled himself out of the vent, tumbling to the floor and knocking a stack of books over on his way down.

“Yowch,” he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and rubbing his aching head for a moment. “Not one of my more graceful landings, I’ll give me that.” 

He dropped his hand to wrap both arms around his sore ribs, lifting his head and coming face to face with… a teenage boy. A teenage boy who looked terrified and furious all at once. Peter’s eyes widened.

He was holding what appeared to be a microscope above his head, ready to strike. A nice one. Probably the first thing he’d grabbed when he heard Peter come in. Peter held one hand up in front of himself, keeping the other pressed firmly against his ribs.

“Woah there.”

“What are you doing here, Spider-Man?” The boy hissed. 

“Oh man—” Peter started uselessly, a little taken aback by the hostility. “I—uh— Look I didn’t mean to barge in, but—short version—I just got done beating a baddie, saving the day, you know the drill— Swung a little too close to Oscorp and had a run in with the security drones. I just ducked in the first vent I saw and ended up here.” He paused, glancing around the room. “... Wherever here is.” The little room looked like it was part of an apartment, but wasn’t recognizable as one of the few residential floors Oscorp had for it’s CEO and the small number of employees who could afford the rent. 

“Please,” the boy snapped, lifting the microscope slightly higher above his head, “you expect me to believe you ended up here by accident?” 

Peter wondered if his arms were getting tired holding that.

“I mean, I guess you don’t have to believe it, but why else would I be here?” 

“To inject me with venom and suck out my insides?”

He said it so matter-of-factly, even with the sarcastic lilt to his voice the suggestion was so ridiculous coming from a boy glaring daggers at him and holding a microscope above his head that it surprised a laugh out of Peter. The boy startled at the sudden sound, jerking back slightly.

“Seriously? These rumors have gotten so out of hand. I know the press doesn't like me but—jeez— Not only am I physically incapable of doing that, I really wouldn’t want to.”

That seemed to take some of the steam out of the boy’s engine, his grip on the microscope loosened slightly. Not off guard, but thrown for a loop definitely.

“Who even told you I do that?”

“My… dad,” he answered haltingly, like he hadn’t actually meant to say it.

“Who’s your dad,” Peter muttered, more to himself than anything, “J. Jonah Jameson?”

“No…” the boy trailed off, clearly not intending to continue.

“Well,” Peter filled in the silence with a short shrug of his shoulders, “I promise I’m not here to suck out your guts. So you can put that down—”  Immediately the tension was back in the boy’s muscles, holding the microscope ready to swing, “—or not.” Peter let out a short sigh lifting his left hand again to wave it placatingly. “Look you can keep that if it makes you feel safer, but I’m really banged up here, so I’m gonna sit. Please don’t hit me in the head with that thing, it would hurt.” Peter slowly lowered himself to the ground, scooting back so he could lean against the wall and shuffle himself into a semi-comfortable position. “Plus that looks like a really nice microscope, it’d be a waste to crack it over my skull.” 

Being given the high-ground—or maybe concern about the microscope—seemed to deflate the boy once more. He lowered his arms slightly, then let the microscope sink all the way to his chest where he wrapped his arms around it in a more comfortable hold.

“... It’s my favorite microscope,” he said after a pause. 

“No kidding? I can see why, wish I had one that nice. Mine’s a piece of second-hand junk from Ebay.”

“You like science?”

“You bet! Made all my own gear.” Peter held out his hand, folding his wrist down to show off his webshooter. The boy flinched back at the sudden movement, pulling the microscope further against his chest and retreating backwards to the mouth of the door. “Sorry! Sorry,” Peter called, tucking his hands under his armpits. “No webs, got it.” 

The boy continued to hover cautiously by the door. Now that his initial fire had calmed down he looked small. Mostly in a metaphorical sense, he was probably a couple inches taller than Peter, but he was skinny, and his jet black hair stood out in sharp contrast with how pale his skin was. His eyes, however, were a soft, muted blue that watched him wearily. 

“Do you… live here?” He asked, eyes darting around the room. It was definitely a bedroom… or at least, something close to a bedroom. There was a double bed pushed up in the corner, nearly eclipsed with stacks of books, notebooks and loose papers. Opposite was a desk covered in slides and petri disks where the boy must have been working when he stumbled in. The rest of the room was disturbingly bare. No pictures, posters, or any kind of memorabilia that would imply someone lived here. Nothing he would expect from another teenager’s bedroom. The boy didn’t answer, just continued staring at him from the doorway. As the silence stretched on uncomfortably long, Peter realized he didn’t intend to answer.

“What’s your name?” He tried again, tilting his head to study the other boy.

He didn’t get a response right away. After another stretch of silence under that unwavering blue gaze, Peter assumed he wasn’t going to get one. But as he dipped his head to check on his battered ribs, a quiet voice rose in the silence.

“Harry.”

Peter looked back up.

“Harry?” The boy—Harry—didn’t speak again, but he did avert his eyes for the first time since Peter entered the room, almost like he was embarrassed hearing his own name said aloud. “Harry,” Peter said again, testing the name on his tongue. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Spider-Man, you can call me Spidey.”

Harry looked back at him, clearly struggling to think of a response. Peter decided to spare him from thinking of one.

“Look, it’s clear my being here is… not so welcome. So I’ll just bounce.” He slowly stood up, minding both his injuries, and Harry still cowering at the door while trying to look like he wasn’t cowering. “I just needed to catch my second wind, so I can get out of range of the security bots before they turn me into Swiss cheese.”

“You fought the security bots to get in here.” Harry’s voice chimed back in. Peter turned his head to look at him. He was a step further into the room and there was a different look on his face. A spark in his eye that wasn’t there before.

“Yep,” Peter answered, popping the ‘p’ playfully. He turned back fully, curious to see where this was going.

“How were they?”

Peter tilted his head.

“Well they didn’t kill me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well, obviously,” Harry snarked, “But i mean aside from that. How was their reactivity? Could you spot their patterns easily or no?” Harry moved forward and set the microscope back on the desk, lifting his hand to his chin as his eyes sunk to the floor and Peter was actually startled by how suddenly his demeanor changed. “I’ve been fiddling with them recently, trying to improve their efficiency—”

“Wait,” Peter cut in, “you built the Oscorp security bots?” 

Harry’s head snapped up, and he flinched back, ducking his head like he just realized he said something he shouldn’t have. He crossed his arms over his chest and suddenly his guard was back, and all the personality spilling out of him a moment ago was slammed back behind a wall.

“No, I— I didn't build them… Robotics aren’t really my thing… I’ve just been tinkering with them recently, as a side project.”

Peter watched him for a moment, wondering what he’d said to cause such a sudden shift, and how he could get that excitement back.

“Well, while they were trying to kill me it seemed like they worked pretty well,” he said, and Harry’s eyes lifted back to him, intrigue shining through in the blue of his eyes. “Little tip though, you should add a section in the coding that keeps them from flanking with each other. It seems like a good idea to surround an intruder but it’s way too easy to just duck out of the line of fire and watch them shoot each other.”

Peter knew very well that he was making it that much more difficult for himself the next time he had a run in with Oscorp’s security, but in his mind it was worth it when he once again saw the caution drain out of Harry’s eyes as he ran through Peter’s advice in his head.

“Hm,” he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[angryschnauzer]

Superior Specimen - Chapter 6

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving), Drama, Theft, Amateur Heroics, Hospital Visit, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Blow Job, Fingering, Lavish lifestyle, Henry is loaded, The Shard, Expensive Gifts, Sixty nine, Unprotected Sex

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Chapter 6

 Henry left soon after, grabbing a slice of toast as you’d stood in the kitchen in just your dressing gown, apologising for not being able to spend the day with you but he had meetings for work and for future dig’s planned for the southern hemisphere in the winter. You’d stood in the kitchen sipping your coffee for a long while after he’d left, thinking over what he’d casually dropped into conversation; was this a fling?, Was the fact that he would spend months at a time out of the country the reason why such a catch was still single? Or was this something he did; find a girl, romance them, and then leave them on ‘business’ once things got boring? You shook your head to rid yourself of those thought and immediately regretted it, your head hurting from your wound. You gingerly touched it and brought your fingers in front of your face, letting out a sigh of relief when you saw there was no blood, but you realised you’d need to be careful for the next couple of days. 

 As you continued to sip your coffee you read over your emails again, re-reading the one from your boss and frowning; it seemed very short and curt, but he was probably just annoyed that one of his staff was due time off in their busiest season due to what was essentially a workplace injury.

 You decided you were going to head to yoga, even without the joke earlier about needing to limber up, it would help you focus and recharge your mind as well as your body.

 -

 By the time Friday afternoon had arrived your week off was surprisingly busy; finally finding time to do all those small chores that you had put off for weeks, but also you’d taken the chance to go shopping for a dress for your date.

 Rather than hit the chaos of Oxford Street or Westfield, instead you’d sought out a couple of vintage and secondhand dress agencies. Your morning had been fun, searching through unique pieces until you’d found it, the dress that was perfect. The woman that ran the vintage shop had guessed it had been a custom piece made in the 80’s, the midnight blue velvet piece fitting you like a glove. It had a thigh high split on one side and was patterned with silver sequins hand sewn on sporadically to make it resemble the night sky. It was strapless but had little hooks along the scalloped bust line that could hook over the cups of a strapless bra for extra security. You had a pair of silver heels in your wardrobe at home that would work perfectly with it, and with a bargain clutch from Primark you were sorted. 

 As you primped and preened that afternoon, fixing your hair and makeup, you smiled at your reflection as you pulled the dress on just a few minutes before Henry was due to pick you up. You were checking the contents of your clutch when the doorbell rang, frowning as you answered it and saw Henry on the small intercom screen;

 “Henry? You know the code”

 He grinned at the camera;

 “Yes, but I’m being gentlemanly… this time I don’t already have you drunk or drugged in my arms…”

 You pressed the buzzer to let him in, flicking the latch on the door as you went to fasten the straps on your heels, looking up just as he peered around the open doorway and stopped dead on his feet;

 “Wow…”

 He looked you up and down, his eyes wide as he took in your curves in the vintage dress, his gaze pausing at your chest on his way down and then on his way back up again. 

 You had a similar reaction when you saw how he was dressed; navy suit and kingfisher blue shirt, the top few buttons undone where it fitted his chest like a glove. He crossed the room slowly, like a predator stalking his prey, resting his hands on your hips and ducking his head to kiss you before pulling back to admire your cleavage close up;

 “I must say, I am a big fan of this dress” He ran a fingernail over the top of your breast, your skin prickling in Goosebumps at his touch before he opened his jacket and pulled a flat velvet box from the inside pocket and handed it to you; 

 “You remember when we first started talking properly, that I said I’d brought you something back from Siberia?”

 Your eyes went wide;

 “Henry… what is this?”

 “Open it and see”

 In disbelief you pulled the box open and let out a small gasp; nestled within the box was a delicate necklace, a raw amethyst gemstone set into a delicate silver chain. As you held the box he lifted the chain, walking behind you so he could bring it over your head, his fingers nimbly fastening it before he traced his fingertips over your bare shoulders and pressed a kiss to your neck;

 “You look stunning… the platinum looks beautiful on you”

 You spun around, your hand resting on the necklace;

 “Platinum?! I thought it was silver! Henry, this is too much… I can’t take this, not when it’s only our first date…”

 He brought his hands to yours and gently clasped them, pressing a kiss to your fingers before he smiled kindly;

 “It’s not really our first date though, is it? We’ve had drinks, I’ve spent the night… And please, let me give you this…”

 “But it’s too expensive!”

 “Not to me it isn’t… I’m lucky enough to me more than comfortable financially, let me share it with you” He closed his hands gently around yours as they held the necklace, pressing a kiss to your knuckles; “It suits you… and I can’t exactly keep it, the chain would get caught on my chest hair”

 You laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips;

 “Thank you”

 -

 Henry had driven you through the early evening London streets with ease, confident and calm even when cabs would cut in front of him or Uber Eats bicycles would whizz past your door at traffic lights. As much as you’d asked him where you were going, he just smiled and replied ‘you’ll see’ before returning his attention back to the road. 

 Finally you recognised some familiar sights as you passed the entrance to Borough Market, before he swung a left and your eyes went wide;

 “We’re going to The Shard?”

 He grinned as he steered the car into the space outside the entrance, the valet opening your door was Henry strode around the car and took your hand whilst handing his keys to the valet. The ride up through the building in the silent elevator gave you butterflies, before he took your hand as the doors chimed. Henry offered you his arm and you tucked your own through it, your stomach flipping nervously as he walked with confidence up to the maitre’d;

 “Good Evening Dr Cavill”

 You had to try and keep your face neutral that the staff knew who he was, and Henry greeted him in return as if he was an old friend;

 “How are you Michael? Family good?”

 “Yes, thank you Sir. My daughter will be starting Oxford university in September, thank you for your letter of endorsement”

 “Wonderful, great to hear. Are we ok to have some drinks and take in the view before we sit down for dinner?”

 “Of course, Sir. I can prepare your table for whenever you need it. You’re booked into the Westminster Suite tonight?”

 “Yes, that’s the one”

 The man smiled as he led you and Henry to a small bar table near the window, and as soon as you’d rested your small clutch bag on it a waiter appeared;

 “Can I get you some drinks tonight?”

 Henry glanced at you;

 “Champers?” You nodded as he continued; “We’ll have a bottle of the Krug 1996”

 The waiter nodded once and walked away, and it was only when Henry lightly touched your arm and made you jump did you realise you’d zoned out a little;

 “Princess?”

 “Sorry, just trying to process this is all real” you laughed quietly

 “Very real” he took your hand and was about to say something when the waiter returned, setting the small tray with two champagne flutes and a small bowl of strawberries onto the table, before quietly opening the expensive bottle in front of you. Pouring two glasses he set the bottle onto the table and left without another word, letting you return your attention to Henry;

 “What’s on your mind? You were quiet in the car the whole way over. Is this too much?”

 You smiled;

 “No, it’s wonderful. Obviously it’s not a standard night out for me, but you know…”

 “What else is bothering you?”

 You took a deep breath and smiled, pointing to your glass of champagne;

 “Ok firstly, this; I’m not taking a sip until I tell you that I one hundred percent want to sleep with you”

 “Ok, that’s good to hear” he grinned

 “You are so kind and caring, specifically waiting until I was sober before we would sleep together, and now obviously you have thought tonight through, you’ve got a suite here - that was a bit of a surprise I’ll add, but a pleasant one - so I want to get this completely agreed to before you waste all this money and then not asking for consent…”

 He nodded and sipped his glass, smiling and a kind look on his face as you continued;

 “Also, my safe word is Nerd”

 “Nerd?”

 “Yes. In case of later…”

 “Gotcha” he paused for a moment before nodding to your glass; “Do you want a drink now?”

 “God yes” You tipped the glass and sipped at the bubbles, feeling them burst over your tongue, and as you were setting the glass down and reaching for a strawberry Henry rested a hand on your hip;

 “Is there anything else?”

 “You said you were organising digs in the Southern Hemisphere for the winter… where would that leave us, you and me? Would this between us just be a summer fling? I just kind of want to know where I stand before you break my heart”

 “So firstly, I do not see this as just a summer fling. I feel like I’ve known you for years, and remember we were talking on Instagram for months before I finally worked up enough courage to say more than just asking if your day was ok… But the winter digs, it’s what I do. Obviously I’m attached to the museum, but I’m also linked to several others all around the world. I can be away for a month or six months at a time, it’s all dependant on the weather and permits, local politics, but I’d fly back whenever I could, and fly you out when you could take time off work”

 “You would do that? You would wait for me?”

 He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you gently to his chest as he ran a finger gently down your cheek;

 “Of course I’d wait for you. I have always waited… I have found people don’t wait for me”

 “What?! But… but you’re a catch! You’re kind and caring… you know how to treat a partner in every way!”

 He shrugged, looking a little pensive;

 “I don’t know what to say… but the last couple of girlfriends presumed I would cheat so ended things ‘before I broke their heart’... which I would never do…”

 He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before a quiet cough sounded behind you, the pair of you turning to see the waiter;

 “Would you like your table now or would you like to continue with drinks here?”

 Henry smiled at you;

 “I could eat, you?”

 “Yes, please”

 The waiter nodded and loading your drinks onto a tray before you followed him, Henry leaning to whisper in your ear;

 “I look forward to eating you later too”

 -

 Dinner was fabulous, each dish seemingly better than the last, flavours dancing on your tongue and you had to struggle not to make obscene moaning sounds, but when the occasional one did escape Henry’s smile would spread further across his face until you laughed as well. By the time the dessert menu was brought over you declined;

 “Are you sure?” Henry pushed; “Really, you can have anything you like, this whole night is on me”

 You laughed quietly;

 “I’m not looking at the prices…” you leant back and rested a hand on your stomach; “But I am *just* the right amount of full at the moment to be happy to do any other activities tonight… if I eat dessert I wouldn’t”

 Henry nodded and gave a nod to the waiter, quietly speaking to him before turning his attention back to you;

 “Princess, shall we retire back to our suite? A nightcap whilst we take in the view; there’s a telescope in the room”

 Nodding you sipped on the last of your drink as Henry signed the bill, slipping a stack of notes into the clip before closing the small black file and handing it back. He stood and quickly circled the table, helping to pull your chair out before offering you his arm. 

 The ride in the lift to the luxury suites was quiet, the atmosphere almost sparking with the energy the pair of you were giving off from the sexual tension. Henry walked you to the door and you were ready to rip his clothing from his body, but as he pushed the door open he smiled and pressed a finger to his lips before speaking, and not to you;

 “Michael, thank you, but we won’t be requiring the butler service tonight”

 The man you recognised from the restaurant emerged from what you could see what the small kitchenette area, wiping his hands on a pristine tea towel;

 “Understood Dr Cavill. I hope you have an enjoyable stay. Your request from the restaurant has been stored safely in the refrigerator”

 “Thank you, Michael,”

 As the man passed you saw Henry slip him a £50 note as he quickly shook his hand, before taking the Do Not Disturb sign and slipping it over the gold hook on the outside of the door and quietly closing it.

 You watched as he shrugged his jacket off and slowly stalked across the room, wrapping his arm around your back, his other hand gently tilting your chin towards his lips as he kissed you, the press of his hot hard body against your own. The kiss was soft, yet he managed to completely dominate you, his tongue pushing against your own and you could taste the whiskey he’d finished his meal with just a few moments before. Your fingers clawed at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and yet as you managed to get one unfastened he pulled away, slipping his hand into yours;

 “Come on, let me show you the view”

 The noise that escaped your lips was a cross between a laugh and a toddlers disgruntled moan;

 “Henry…” you whined; “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but please, I’m so fucking horny right now, I need you to fuck me into the mattress”

 He turned and walked backwards, tugging you to the panoramic windows and the telescope that sat on the full-length tripod, a quiet laugh filling the void between the two of you;

 “Princess, I promise you will get that… we have all night, all weekend! I just have one thing I want to show you…”

 He peered through the telescope before stepping back and nodding to you, gently guiding you until he was standing behind you, his hands on your hips. You looked through the  eyepiece and let out a gasp; on the roof of a building in Canary Wharf was a light display… and yet it wasn’t just lasers, there was light patterns of dinosaurs; Diplodocus reaching for high leaves, T-rex stalking in the bushes, a group of Raptors running across the building.

 “Oh Henry… how did you?”

 “I have some friends in the city… and some more friends that run outdoor events… just called in a couple of favours”

 You watched through the scope and smiled as you felt Henry wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his hard body flush with your own and started to caress your neck with soft kisses. One hand slipped to your thigh and gently started to tug your dress up until it was high enough for him to slip his hand into the thigh high slit and curl around to seek out your pussy. He was still firmly holding you in place, letting you watch the light show in the relative darkness of the luxury suite, but as his fingers dipped beneath the thin elastic of your lacy thong he let out an appreciative groan as he found you already dripping wet;

 “You really are horny, aren’t you?”

 He found your clit and started to tease it with tight circles, at the same time grinding into the crease of your ass with the hardness still confined to his smart trousers. Under his expert ministrations you soon found yourself swaying your hips, working between pushing harder against his hand then pushing back to feel that delicious friction from behind. Your head fell back against his shoulder and he let out a feral growl against your neck, his teeth grazing against your smooth flesh before gently biting, causing a shudder to run the length of your spine;

 “Ok, Dinosaurs are great, but I need a different bone…” 

 Your words were breathless and were greeted with a low chuckle. Henry withdrew his fingers and you watched as he brought them to his mouth, tasting your juices from the glistening digits, before he moved them to the zip of your dress and slowly started to unzip you. The dress fell to the floor and he let out an appreciative moan;

 “No bra?”

 “You complaining?”

 “Absolutely not”

 Your fingers started quick work of his shirt buttons, unfastening them all before pushing the fabric over his massive shoulders. As he cast the garment aside you unbuttoned his trousers, lowering the zip and palming the massive bulge his boxers could barely contain, Henry’s hips pushing against your palm involuntarily as you felt the heat of his skin though the fabric. Your tongue painted patterns against his chest and his voice stuttered;

 “I want you to sit on my face, ride my tongue Princess, let me make you cum”

 He dropped to his knees and pulled your lace thong down your legs, before unfastening the tiny straps of your heels, running the tips of his fingers up the length of your body as he stood and rid himself of his own clothing, pulling you to the bed.

 He lay on the soft covers, pulling you up his body until your knees were either side of his head, his strong hands gripping onto your thighs as his tongue darted out and parted your folds. His eyes glinted with mischief and you could feel yourself shaking with anticipation as he spoke;

 “Turn around”

 Taking a couple of moments to shift 180º, you rested your hands on his broad chest as he pulled you down to his mouth. At the first touch of his tongue swiping through your folds again you groaned and curled your fingers through the coarse hair on his chest, shuddering at his expert touch. With each pass of the strong muscle you could feel your body rapidly heading towards orgasm already, but when you felt a wide hand flat on your back, pushing you forwards it was heaven as his lips latched onto your clit and he slid two fingers of his other hand into your soaked channel.

 Resting your chest against his abdomen you were face to face with his dick, hard and thick as it rested against his stomach, reaching up to his navel where it wept precum. Wrapping your hand around it you smoothed your thumb over the clear liquid, wishing you could reach it with your mouth, but instead spitting on your other hand to work the hot hard flesh. The groan that was muffled from between your thighs told you he was enjoying it, and in return he slid a finger into you, stretching you, and you knew you were done for. 

 Your attention waived from him as he worked you closer and closer towards your orgasm, before he managed to curl his fingers just right and you were cumming over his face, his strong arm holding you to his mouth as you shook with pleasure. 

 Finally he carefully withdrew his fingers from you, lifting you so he could lay you head to foot on the bed beside him before resting one massive hand on your soft stomach as your breath came out in rapid pants, your heart racing. You felt the bed shift and the welcome touch of his warm hands parting your legs so he could crawl up your body, pressing open mouthed kisses to every spot he crossed. Eventually he reached your own lips, kissing you deeply, his tongue wide and strong and you could taste yourself as your own tongue danced with his. You could feel his hardness nestled against your folds, slipping against you as your bodies writhed together before he finally pushed himself up on his powerful arms;

 “Are you ready?”

 “Yes… please Henry…”

 Reaching down he took hold of himself and slid the tip up and down through your folds until you felt that delicious notch of his swollen crown resting at your entrance, he looked back to you;

 “I’ll go slow… just relax…”

 He started to push forwards, your velvet walls slowly parting as he filled you inch by delicious inch, your eyes going wider with each push. He tilted his hips and immediately found your g-spot, your eyes rolling back in their sockets and you let out a groan that would have rattled the glass in the windows had the building not been fitted with hurricane proof panes. You felt Henry’s soft lips press a kiss to your neck, his mouth moving gently over your skin as he spoke;

 “You feel like heaven Princess, taking me so well”

 “H-Henry… please…”

 “What Princess? Is it too much?”

 “NO! No, oh my god, please… please move… fuck me… fuck me like you mean it…”

 “Princess…” he warned

 “I can take it… I want it…”

 You looked into his eyes and saw a glint of concern, before a wide smile spread across his face;

 “You can, you’re a good girl…”

Pulling his hips back he pushed back in, parting your walls further and the feeling of being so full was almost indescribable. Sure, you’d had partners with big dicks in the past. Some with small dicks. But no-one that had ever been both long and as wide as Henry was. He wasn’t obscenely long, so there wasn’t the uncomfortable stabbing in the cervix, but every inch of his was thick and meaty, and you could feel him completely. Each thrust was becoming harder and faster, and soon he was wrapping one arm around your thigh to pull your legs open wider, tilting his hips so he could change the angle as he fucking railed you into the mattress, your fingers clawing at his back as you begged him for more and more. 

 The room faded around you, it was just you and Henry, the pleasure each other’s bodies were sharing with the other, feral grunts and moans as you felt pleasure like never before. You fitted together like two pristine pieces of a jigsaw, working together in unity. The rough brush of his chest hair against your hypersensitive nipples was yet another added stimulation, and with each rapid push and thrust your bodies rubbed together to bring you closer to your peak. You were trembling around him, your legs shaking where you were so close to orgasm. 

 He let go of your leg, now resting both hands either side of your body as he moved quicker, each thrust more powerful than the last, and with each push you had slid a little more along the bed, your head now hanging over the end and resting on the chaise lounge that sat there, the blood rushing to your brain giving you a head rush. You wrapped your legs around Henry’s waist, hooking one foot over another as you pressed them against his ripe ass. Your bodies were slick with sweat, and when you felt that tell-tale sign that your orgasm was starting a guttural moan emerged slowly through your throat.

 Your body shook with intense pleasure, you could feel for the very first time your internal muscles squeezing and massaging Henry’s massive girth within you, realising that you had never felt so complete.

As you rode out your orgasm Henry evened his thrusts out, and as your own pleasure was starting to ebb away it set off his own, his thick seed filling you as you felt him twitch and buck within you. You watched as he threw his head back and moaned your name, the smooth expanse of his neck aching for you to touch, and with the last ounce of strength you had you did just that and pressed an open mouthed kiss to his Adams Apple.

 With one final grunt you felt him twitch for the last time before his body relaxed, and those steel blue eyes met yours in the twilight of the room, your bodies only illuminated by the bright lights of the London night skyline. He shifted, moving one hand behind your head to support and cup it in his massive palm, the other resting on his elbow so your bodies were pressed together yet he wasn’t resting his entire weight atop of you. There were no words, the smiles on your faces told the other all the words your mouths couldn’t articulate. 

 The passing of time didn’t register in your mind, and it was only when Henry’s entire body did an involuntary shudder did you both come back to reality. Steadying himself on his arms he slowly pulled out of you, letting out a string of gentle ‘hoo-ha’s as the pull of your body against his over sensitive flesh was almost overwhelming for him. Kneeling on the bed he ran his hands over your thighs, warm against the now goose bumped skin and he pulled your legs apart slightly;

 “Wanna watch my cum drip out of you Princess”

 His hands rested on your inner thighs at the apex, his thumbs pulling apart your lips and you watched as he watched his thick seed slowly pool at your entrance. With one thumb he swiped it through the cum before spreading it over your swollen folds. He let out a grunt and moved, sliding an arm behind your back and helped you sit up, pressing his thumb to your lips which you eagerly took into your mouth, sucking on the thick pad as you tasted your combined essence on his salty skin. 

 “Let’s rest for a while before the next round” he muttered before kissing your cheek. 

 You nodded, muttering about needing to pee, and on wobbly legs you staggered to the bathroom like a new-born fawn.

Chapter 7 >>>

Chapter 6 notes:

In case you wanted to be nosey and see just how much Henry spent on their date:

Champagne:

https://thechampagnecompany.com/krug-1996-vintage-champagne-75cl-gift-box Restaurant at the Shard: https://www.the-shard.com/restaurants/aquashard/ Room at the Shard: https://www.shangri-la.com/london/shangrila/rooms-suites/suites/westminster-suite/

[madasthesea]

“What is a Build-a-Bear?” Nebula's rasping voice framed the words like they were a foreign language, careful and slow.

Tony blinked at her. He was still in the Medbay, slowly recovering from starvation, oxygen deprivation, and the last of his stab wound. The time between getting off the ship and waking up here was blurry. Nebula, who had suffered from hunger much less than Tony, had come to visit him while Captain Danvers and the raccoon prepared their ship to go find Thanos.

“What?” he croaked.

“You called Rocket a Build-a-Bear.”

He didn't remember doing that, but it sounded like him.

“Oh. It's a stuffed animal,” Tony explained listlessly, picking at his blanket. “It's for kids.”

 Peter's room was a mishmash of Lego figurines, science apparatus, and second-hand furniture. Tony glanced around, taking it in. The last time he'd been here recruiting the kid, the space had been much more bare. He smirked as he saw the Star Wars spaceships, but it turned into a wicked grin when he caught sight of a red and gold stuffed animal.

“Kid, what is that?”

Peter looked around from where he'd been rummaging in his desk for his spare webshooter. He saw where Tony was looking and his cheeks immediately flushed.

“Um. A… birthday present.”

Tony reached out and picked it up. The little bear had gold Iron Man masks all over his crimson fur and was wearing a shirt and pants that looked like the Iron Man armor, complete with a tiny glowing arc reactor and a cloth mask.

“It looks new,” he remarked casually.

“It isn't!” Peter hurriedly assured him, rushing over and trying to snag it from Tony's hands. Tony pulled it closer to his chest, raising an eyebrow at Peter.

“Don't get grabby, Parker,” he chided. “Now, come here, we're taking a selfie.”

“You give these slain creatures to your children?” Nebula asked. Her voice and face were as emotionless as ever, but there was something like disgust in the tilt of her head.

Tony, jerked out of his thoughts, took a second to catch up.

“What? No! Geez, no. They're not real animals, they're made of cloth.”

“Cloth,” Nebula repeated, sounding dubious.

“Yeah.” He hesitated for a second. “Come here, I'll show you.”

He reached over to the bedside table, where he'd slammed his phone down half a second after Rhodey gave it to him. He'd taken a single glance at the lock screen photo—one of Peter with engine grease all over his face, the car he and Tony had restored together barely visible in the background—and promptly hyperventilated until he passed out. He hadn't touched the phone since, and his hands shook as he reached for it now.

He swallowed hard, unlocking his phone and carefully not looking at his background picture—this one of him, Peter, and Pepper all asleep on the couch. He opened his camera gallery and quickly scrolled through the file of photos of Peter, trying not to see any of them, any of the hundreds of memories that would forever more be nothing but agonizing reminders of his own failure.

He overshot the one he was looking for and had to go back, but finally he pulled up a picture of Peter's Iron Man Build-a-Bear, his own hand holding it up to the camera.

Nebula crowded around the head of the bed, peering down at the screen. She looked at it critically for a second, glancing between it and Tony.

“What is it's function?” She finally asked.

“Kids cuddle with them,” Tony replied. She looked confused. “You know, hug them?”

Nebula shook her head.

“Oh geez. Um. Like, like this.” Finger hesitating for a second, Tony swiped to the next picture. His breath stuttered in his lungs.

Beaming up at him from the screen was the ghost of Peter Parker, bright and young and perfect. The teddy bear was tucked under his chin and his cheeks still faintly pink with embarrassment. Tony had had to make a really stupid “dad joke" to even get Peter to smile. In the picture they'd taken together, Peter was mid eye-roll.

Tony's thumb hovered over the image as if about to caress the boy's face. He could feel Nebula looking at him, knew she recognized Peter as the kid that had died in Tony's arms. And even if she hadn’t, she still would have known—she was the one that had heard him screaming Peter’s name in his sleep, whispering apologies to the Peter he hallucinated once the infection took hold.

“Why do they… cuddle them?” Nebula made a face at the word and Tony snorted, still staring at his screen.

“Us humans do that. We, um, need physical contact.”

  Tony woke up to the hazy awareness that came with heavy medication. He remembered the entire fight, this time, and groaned quietly. His injuries would take forever to heal, his busted knee would probably ache for the rest of his life. Getting old sucked. But taking the brunt of the damage was worth it as long Peter got to grow old, too.

Speaking of Peter, Tony felt a suspiciously Peter-shaped weight against his side. He peeled an eye open and, sure enough, Peter was tucked up against him, his arm over Tony's stomach.

“Kid,” Tony groaned. Peter looked up at him, a nasty bruise on his temple.

“Mr. Stark.”

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked, fighting the pull of medication trying to make him fall asleep again.

“Human contact helps dull pain,” Peter told him. He pressed himself a little closer. “Is it working?”

“Better than morphine,” Tony said drily. Peter made an aggravated noise at his sarcasm.

“I'm trying to help,” Peter whispered.

Tony sighed, shifting a little so that Peter's head was nestled more comfortably against his shoulder.

“You know you don't have to feel guilty, buddy. You really don't.”

“And you know that I do anyway, so just let me…” Peter trailed off.

“Let you cuddle me?”

Peter nodded shyly.

“It's the only thing I can do for you right now.”

Tony closed his eyes. This kid.

“Eases pain, you say?”

“And helps you sleep,” Peter added, his own words getting thicker as he started to doze against Tony’s chest.

Tony ducked his head and lightly kissed Peter's bruised temple.

“Well, heaven knows I could use some of that.”

 Tony jerked himself out of his own thoughts this time. The picture of Peter was blurry now, and Tony blinked hurriedly to dispel the tears.

“Do you… don’t alien kids have something like that?” he asked.

Nebula's dark eyes stared at him for a long moment.

“I don't know.”

Right. Suckiest dad in the universe.

“Tell you what, when I'm up and moving again, and you're back from your space adventure, we'll go get you one.”

Nebula worked her jaw for a moment, like she was going to argue, but her eyes betrayed curiosity and a little bit of excitement in her gaze.

“Fine.”

  Marching up to a Build-a-Bear after the end of the world with an ex-homicidal blue alien was pretty high up on Tony's list of ‘weirdest things I’ve ever done,’ but he glared at the shop attendant that cowered behind the counter as if it was totally normal.

He'd been a little surprised the place was still open, actually. Plenty of stores had had to close their doors after the Snap, too short staffed or without managers and owners.

This was the same store he'd come to with Peter. It still smelled the same. The memory punched the air out of his lungs.

  “Keep your eyes closed, Pete.”

Peter scowled. “Mr. Stark, people are giving us weird looks. I can feel it.”

“Chill out. Just a couple more seconds.” With both hands on Peter's shoulders, Tony steered them through the brightly lit store, around little kids and stands with tiny clothes hanging on little cardboard hangers. When they reached the right spot, Tony reached out tipped Peter's chin down so that he'd see the surprise right when he opened his eyes. The kid didn’t even flinch at the unexpected touch and Tony’s lungs constricted at the trust Peter put in him.

“Alright, kiddo. Go ahead.”

Peter opened his eyes.

“No way…”

There, at the end of the line of Avengers themed teddy bears, was a red plush with spider web patterns all over it. It was wearing a replica of the Spider-Man suit and had a mask shoved up on it's head, smushing the ears.

“Congrats, kid, you've joined the ‘recognizable enough to make a profit’ league,” Tony laughed, both hands still on Peter's shoulders.

“Oh my gosh!” Peter picked up the stuffed animal, running his fingers over it. He tugged the mask over the bear’s face.

“Looks just like you, Pete,” Tony joked, grinning widely. Peter gave his arm a soft whack.

“This is amazing. I have to take a picture and show Ned. He’ll freak,” Peter rambled, fishing for his phone in his pocket.

“Or you could just show him in person.”

“It’s a bit far to come—” Peter started, looking around at the store with a furrow between his eyebrows.

“I’m obviously going to buy you one, kid,” Tony interrupted, rolling his eyes. “To add to your collection.”

Peter blushed. “Mr. Stark.”

“After all, you can’t have Iron Man without his loyal sidekick Spider-Man, can you?”

Peter pursed his lips, but there was something soft and awed in his face, like being Iron Man’s sidekick was a dream come true. “Not your sidekick, Mr. Stark.”

“I know, kiddo,” Tony assured him, ruffling his hair. “Now, come on, show me how this works.”

Twenty minutes later, they were leaving with a new teddy bear, the little pseudo-birth certificate that came with reading ‘Underroos.’

“Your face is leaking.” Nebula’s voice startled him so badly he flinched. His hands flew up to his face, wiping away the tears on his cheeks.

“Right. Sorry.” Nebula didn’t say anything. It was one of the best things about her.

“What do I do?” she asked, a little quieter as if embarrassed to not know.

“Just pick one you like,” Tony said shrugging, walking around the store and peering at each bin full of animals waiting to be stuffed. Nebula trailed along behind him, examining them as if wary they would come alive and bite her.

When they came to the Avengers ones, Tony paused. The Spider-Man bear was still there, the crate almost empty. The only ones that seemed more popular were Iron Man and Captain America. Tony smiled a bit. Peter would flip if he knew he’d beaten out Thor.

“That’s your son,” Nebula remarked, a touch surprised.

Tony swallowed, looking at the little plushie. He decided not to correct her. “Yeah. He, uh, he’s pretty popular, here on Earth.”

Nebula stooped and picked out a Spider-Man bear. “I like this one,” she proclaimed, with a confidence that surprised Tony. She’d never expressed real preference or dislike for anything before.

Tony cleared his throat. “You... you don’t have to get that one, just cause it’s—You don’t have to get that one for me.”

“I like this one,” she said again.

“Alright, Bluebell.” She glanced up at him at the nickname. “Let’s go get you your very first stuffed animal.”

After the bear had been stuffed, the little heart placed inside—Nebula had been very confused at that part—and closed up, the worker left them to pick out clothes and whatever else they wanted. Nebula looked at the bear in her hands for a long moment, and then raised it and tucked it under her chin, mimicking what she had seen Peter doing in the picture Tony had showed her. Tony watched, one eyebrow raised, as she stood like that for a long moment, eyes closed.

When she opened her eyes, she looked at Tony.

“I see,” she said simply. Tony smiled.

  Two weeks later, as she and Rocket boarded their ship to leave Earth, Nebula had her little Spider-Man bear—decked out in an Iron Man outfit, at her insistence—under her arm.

[copperbadge]

Sewing a Duck Bill Mask: A Quick Handy Guide With Photos

I’ve had a couple of requests for a guide to how I make the masks I’ve been wearing and selling, so I sat down and made one while taking pictures. This is for a “duck bill” style mask (also known as a Fu Mask) which does not have pleats but does have a generous nose pocket. The original pattern came from Make Masks 2020 and you can find the pattern here, but I have made several modifications. 

Instructions below the cut! Sorry for mobile users. 

So, in the pattern linked above, my original template was the largest size on the last page, with a 1/4″ seam allowance added onto that all the way around. That’s what you see here on the right. 

However, the one on the right proved to be just slightly uncomfortably small for a lot of people, and I had a friend who wanted a wider chin so he could speak easier with one on. So I created the template on the left, which added some length to the height of the mask and the width of it, and slightly curved out the round “nose” side more. I’m afraid I don’t have a pattern of it handy because I basically just traced the original and made my mods freehand, but you can see the differences in comparison pretty clearly. Don’t be afraid to test out a few freehand trials, since all your pieces will be the same size anyway. 

I find using a piece of thick cardboard as a pattern is easiest; I put the template on the fabric, trace around it with a marker, then cut out the shape. I flip it over and trace and cut again for the second piece, and so on. (I actually do a complicated maneuver involving several careful folds, but we won’t get into that.)

Essentially, to start with, you are cutting out four pieces of fabric using the same template; two with the “nose” facing one way and two with it facing the other, so that when flipped their “good” sides face each other. These four panels will make up your mask. 

You place the panels with the “good” sides facing each other because you’ll be sewing it inside-out and then reversing it. To start, each set of two panels gets a single seam on the curved “nose” side: 

It will end up looking like this: 

The tip of the scissors is pointing at the nose seam. Remember if you’re using fabric with a pattern oriented a certain direction, the curvy bit is where your nose will be and the longest straight side is the bottom of the mask. Orient your template accordingly. 

You can trim the excess from the nose seam if you want; it isn’t absolutely vital but can be helpful later.

Then you’re going to take one of the two pieces you now have, it doesn’t really matter which, and turn it right side out: 

now tuck it between the two pieces of the one that’s still wrong-side-out, to make a sort of sandwich: 

Make sure you snug the two nose seams up as close to each other as you can. It likely won’t be perfect. 

Now open both pieces like a book. You will create a “pocket” where the nose seam is, and that’s ok, just pay attention to which side it’s on. Note that the long straight edges on the bottom are at a slight angle to one another -- that’s normal and how it should look if you’ve folded it open properly. 

In this one you can see that the “pocket” is on the right side of the fold. So I’m going to sew two seams on the left side of the fold first, where the pocket isn’t. First the bottom seam, starting from the middle and going outward: 

Then the top seam, starting from the middle and following the curve of the “top” of the mask, so that eventually I have half the mask sewn together like so:

Note that the short straight edge opposite the nose pocket is not sewn together; that’s where the ear loop will go, so we’re not sewing that yet. It’s just the top and bottom for now. 

Now you need to flip the nose pocket so it’s under the part you’ve already sewn. You’re not turning anything inside out, you’re just moving the pocket-flap so you’re not sewing the top to it. Then sew the other two seams, again starting from the middle, so eventually your mask looks like this: 

You can see at the bottom of the right side that the fabric isn’t completely aligned. As long as the blue fabric and pink fabric are reasonably flush with each other inside the seam, that doesn’t matter; it just happens sometimes in the course of using two dimensions to sew a three-dimensional object. Do not panic, just trim it if you want to and go on with life.

So now you have what is basically a lumpy fabric tube; both ends are open, so you can turn it inside out, rather like a sock with the toe cut off: 

Aw, it’s a butterfly. 

Make sure you tuck one nose seam inside the other, and run your fingers along the edges of the open ends to pull the fabric all the way up to the seam. For some of my clumsier ones I use an iron, but usually you can just push on the seams and it’ll flatten out into something that’s starting to look more masklike. Take a very blurry photo. :D

This next step is 100% optional and by far the most difficult part; it’s the central nose seam, which binds the two pieces together at the center and adds structure to help hold the mask away from your face even as the edges lie flush with your skin. Open up the mask but don’t flatten it, so it forms a sort of cup, and press the two nose seams (pink and blue) together as you sew a seam up either side of the center from bottom to top. 

The fabric will remain curved in front of and behind the machine’s “foot”; don’t try to flatten it, it’s meant to do that. Just do the best to keep the bit directly under the foot flat and smooth. 

This is where I am most likely to screw up and cause wrinkles, little bunches, etc. These are cosmetic and don’t impact the mask particularly, but I always try to have the “front” of the mask -- the side people will see when you wear it -- on the inside (the pink, in this case) because the wrinkles and pouches are more likely to show up on the part you can’t see while sewing (the blue). 

Not perfect, but serviceable. Phew! As I said, that step is not mandatory, your mask will work perfectly fine without it, I just like the look and it does help hold the mask away from your face a little. 

Now you’re going to address those open, unsewn ends. Take the raw ends and tuck about 1/4″ to 1/2″ inward on both sides so that you have a nice neat edge: 

You can see how the pink and blue are tucked in against each other, as opposed to the raw blue beneath them on the other end of the mask, which hasn’t been tucked yet. 

At this point you can do a number of things; you can sew in laces you tie behind your head, for example, or elastic tape that goes over your head. I use everyday hair elastics in a couple of different styles as ear loops.

The one in the middle, which is thin rolled nylon, is my elastic of choice because it’s the right mix of broad and stretchy. These are known as Scunci brand “hosiery ponytailers”. The one on bottom is heavier and less inclined to stretch but is more available, at least in Chicago (I can get a bag of 50 for $7 a lot of the time). Both are 2″ diameter nylon hair ties available at most places that sell hair accessories (the scunci brand I get at Target, the generic one below it at a local bodega). The one at the top is not ideal, but you can get like 20 of them for $2 at Walgreens and they’re not awful. Just make sure that whatever kind you use, your needle is sharp enough and they are soft enough for the needle to pass through them easily. You will need two loops, one for each side, snipped once to open up the loop. 

Tuck the ends of the elastic into that neat clean edge you’ve made on the end of the mask, then carefully sew a seam on the outside of the mask, over and through the elastic. Use a small stitch to ensure that at least one or two stitches pass directly through the elastic itself. You may have to shove it a little to get it under the foot. 

If you’re fashion-forward, make sure you’re using a color that will compliment or contrast with the fabric. I like using blue thread on warm fabrics, orange thread on blues and purples, and green thread on greens, whites, and blues. 

Turn the mask over, do the same tuck, elastic, and seam on the other side, and your mask is complete!

It seems like a lot of steps, but once you’ve done it, it’s relatively straightforward. Have fun and keep masking! 

[thebluestbluewords]

fitting rooms have locks for a reason

Malvie + Ben, a little spicy, technically part of my queer parenting/babyfic/polyamory 'verse. Not explicitly stated, but it's got some pretty heavy d/s themes. ~1600 words.

*

“I don’t think this is ever going to be a good look on me.” Mal says doubtfully, fisting the extra fabric of her skirt up as she steps onto Evie’s fitting dais. “I might just be too short for this to ever look good.”

Evie does not roll her eyes, because she is a good girlfriend who is working with her girlfriend’s changing ideas about her body, rather than against them. “It doesn’t look good now, obviously. You have to shut up and let me finish pinning it first.”

Mal drops the skirt. “Fine.”

Finally, “Thank you.” Evie says graciously, and gestures for their boy to come forward. “Servant boy, more pins!”

Ben ducks his head. Evie’s got him on his knees today, his feet looped together with one of her scarves so he can’t move easily even if she wanted him to stand. He gets quiet sometimes, when they boss him around like this, but they’ve talked about it at length and he insists that it’s better when they let him get to that point.

He’s not that far down yet today. “Your highness,” he says, holding out the magnetic dish with the wickedly sharp straight pins that Evie uses for fittings. She could tie his hands too, but half the fun is pulling him around into odd positions and seeing how long he’ll be able to hold it before she either has to move or scold him.

It’s a good day, so Evie’s going to give him a fighting chance this time. “Stay right there for a sec, babe. Don’t move a muscle,” she says, pulling his arms, and the dish sitting in his hands, up so that she can reach easily. It means that his arms are stuck awkwardly just above his head, but his shoulders are already relaxing into the pose. “Thank you.” she adds, on second thought. A little praise never hurt anyone.

“Evie--” Mal tries, as Evie gathers the fabric she’s been holding up out of her hands. It’s a few simple tucks that honestly, Evie doesn’t even need her to model for. She’s been designing for Mal practically as long as she’s been designing for anyone other than herself, and between clothing and their other activities, she knows the shape of her girlfriend’s body better than her own.

“Shh.” Evie says, and brandishes a pin. “I’m almost done, just hold on.”

Mal shuts up.

It really only takes another second, and then there’s just the hem to get up, and their boy to shove around again, until he’s moving a little looser and easier, just like Mal does when Evie finally finds the dresses that make her feel like the best version of herself, and that’s it.

Evie drops the hem to Mal’s legs, and the spare pins back to the bowl. “Do you want to try walking in that, Mally?”

Mal steps down from the little fitting dais that Evie’s got set up, and does a little runway walk over to the mirror propped against the far wall of the studio. “It’s not bad.” she admits, swishing the flowy skirt around her legs. “I like the pleats.”

Evie tries not to talk up her own accomplishments more than absolutely necessary, but Mal does look a full treat. “Told you,” she says, because well, she did. “Lift your arms, how’s that?”

Mal raises her arms above her head obediently, and gives a little wave. “Good.” she says, and shakes her shoulders out, like she’s dancing. The dress shifts with her, fabric floating along the elegant lines of her body. “I like it.”

“Excellent. Let me see you now, give me a twirl.” Evie says, gesturing. Her own dress is a simple one, form-fitting black with a sheer blue jacket that leaves her arms free for pinning and fitting her designs. It’s one of her new favorites, now that she’s been doing a lot more of the actual work end of her business lately, and a bit less of the studying end. She’s still got her team, of course, and two years of business management classes have taught her how to manage all the loose ends of the little world she’s made for herself, but it’s still nice to have a reliable outfit stable for getting shit done in.

Mal twirls. The hem lasts for two rotations, and then Mal, being herself, even though they’re old enough to know better, gets too excited and spins fast enough to make her hair fly up. The hem, predictably, falls out.

Mal looks guiltily up at Evie. “Oops.” she says, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You might need to re-pin that one.”

Of course Mal wants to make them go through the process again. Evie should serve her right and make her hold her own pins this time, just to give their boy a break.

“That’s fine, I’ll get it set back up where you need it.” Evie says instead, kneeling down to gather the loose edge back up again. It’s not so bad really, just the front piece that’s come undone from her loose attempt at figuring out how high Mal will want her hem. “I’m gonna leave a pretty generous hem this time, just in case we need to take it out more later.”

“In case what, I need to run away again and we don’t do this for another month?” Mal says bitterly. “That’s clever of you. Knowing when I’m going to have another breakdown.”

“Or if you want to wear the dress again, M.” Evie says gently, repinning the soft fabric. “That’s also a thing you can do.”

“People will talk.”

“And what, are you going to listen?” Evie asks, glancing up at Mal from where she’s almost finished getting the skirt up again. “Don’t take criticism from people you wouldn’t go to for advice, babe. I don’t care what the gossip rags say about your outfits, and neither should you. I can make you something blingy to wear over it, if you need to change it up that badly.”

“No!” Mal exclams, smoothing a hand over the top of the dress, where it drapes over the faintly rounded curve of her belly. “I like how it is. Don’t change a thing.”

“Don’t complain if you don’t want to hear my solutions!” Evie says, gesturing with an empty hand. “You’re all pinned up again, if you want to get out of this and let my pin boy do his work with you.”

Mal does crack a smile at that. “Ooh, and what kind of work could that be, I wonder?” she asks, eyes sparkling. “I’ve heard good things about his handicrafts, but if you’re still going to use him for any other projects I’m sure I could find other ways to work with him.”

Evie glances over, just to make sure they’re all good.

Ben meets her eyes. He’s looking a little bit dreamy, but not like he’s in the stratosphere just yet. They’re fine. “I do have a few more designs that could use work,” Evie admits. “And it is easier to get those woven patterns you like nailed down if I’ve got a second pair of hands at my disposal.”

Mal smooths her skirt again. “I think it would be nice,” she says, looking at the both of them, watching them watch each other, “If we could. Uh. Test out the versatility of this dress.”

“See how it’s going to hold up for some extracurriculars?” Evie offers, sweetly. “Test the range of movement you’ve got in the legs?”

Mal’s a blusher, which is unfortunate for her and very fortunate for her partners. “Maybe I want to make sure it’s going to fit a little something else under the skirt?” she says, going for lofty and disinterested, and ending up somewhere around nervous-pleased and eager. “It’s important that it can accomodate, uh, my changing body?”

Good lord, if this is what Evie’s going to be dealing with in miniature she’s never going to make it through their kid’s youth. “You can do all the testing you need, so long as you don’t break anything and you have him back in one piece for the next time I need a helper, m’kay?” she says, and gives Ben a little nod.

He takes the cue, which is good, because it means he’s still in the game. It’s easy enough for Evie to guide the two of them, both of her beautiful idiots, over to the gold fainting couch she’s got in the corner for exactly this purpose. It’s not exactly set up for three, but it’s a simple enough switch for Evie to slip herself down beside Mal, half behind her, so that she can get her mouth on that soft spot behind her ear where she likes to be kissed. It takes a second longer for their boy to finish settling into his own position, but that’s to be expected when she’s got him helping like this. It wouldn’t do to have the help in place before they want him there. This is for Mal, after all.

Speaking of. With all the work that Evie’s just been putting in on the skirt, it wouldn’t do to have Mal messing that up either. Evie reaches down and flips it up, leaving Mal’s pale thighs exposed to the light.

Ah, and their boy is in place now. Good.

Evie trails soft fingertips down Mal’s side, until she’s got her nails, matte red and dark like old blood today, on the pale edge of her skin where it meets the dark fabric of her undergarments.

Ben is keeping his hands to himself, because he’s a good boy who knows what they need from him. He leans his head against Mal’s inner leg instead, nudging his mouth up against the opposite side as Evie’s fingertips.

“Mally,” Evie asks sweetly, directly into her girlfriend’s ear. “Do you want more from us?”

Mal shivers in response, which could be good or bad, and then pushes up into the touch. “Yes,” she breathes, and turns her head to press her next words up against Evie’s lips. “Please, Eves. Need you both.”

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Miami Nights (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW.

Summary: While in Miami to celebrate their upcoming wedding, Ethan and Naomi sneak away from the festivities to have their own celebration.

A/N: Like all of my NSFW fics, this was 100% self indulgent and written with only me in mind. 

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And if your tags do not work, I’m sorry, and blame Tumblr. ~v~ In a perfect world, Ethan Ramsey would be at home, on his couch, a good book in one hand and a tumbler of scotch in the other. The last place he necessarily wants to be is in the crowded bar of a Miami hotel, sandwiched between a 21 year old girl and her friends, and some guy crying into his pint of beer.

The things Ethan does for love.

Coming to Miami was Naomi’s idea. She wanted a fun weekend away for their bachelor and bachelorette parties, and Miami was the only place she even considered going. What better way to celebrate their upcoming nuptials than to go to the city, specifically the hotel that started it all?

He hasn’t seen her all day, her friends kidnapping her as soon as their plane touched down. He misses her. They’ve been attached at the hip ever since they began dating, even more so after she moved into his condo, and being without her feels strange, even if it’s only for a night. And while he’s grown fond of Naomi’s merry band of misfits, spending the entire night with Bryce, Elijah, and Rafael requires more patience than he has.

He’s spent the entire day with them, and his capacity to be around other people has reached its limit. So while the guys were making plans of going to a strip club, Ethan left altogether, quietly slipping out of their room.

Ethan feels a tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere, the slight drawl of Naomi’s accent when she has to pronounce certain words. Once he’s turned around, all thoughts of what he could possibly say are gone.

After two years together, Naomi’s beauty shouldn’t stun him anymore, but she still manages to render him speechless.

“Wow,” is the word his brain finally settles on.

Forever the drama queen, Naomi twirls around so her fiancé can get a full look at the sparkly dress she’s wearing. “I take it you like the dress?”

“You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” Her eyes sweep over Ethan, taking him in. He’s not doing anything in particular, but his presence is still commanding and magnetic. “You look pretty handsome yourself. Now, do you care to tell me why you’re missing your bachelor party?”

“I didn’t want to go to a strip club,” Ethan says simply. “And Lahela kept referring to us in third person, calling us ‘The Boys’ all night. It was becoming tiresome, so I left.”

“You can’t leave your own bachelor party.”

“Says the woman who ditched her bachelorette party,” Ethan shoots back.

Naomi rolls her eyes. “I only left my bachelorette party because you texted me to meet you down here.”

“I was simply over the night,” he says with a shrug. “We did a bit of gambling, we went to a cigar lounge, we got dinner. That’s more than enough entertainment for me. The other guys will be fine for the rest of the night if I’m not there.”

“Well if you’re checking out for the night, so am I.”

“No, you can still enjoy the festivities with your friends.”

Naomi shrugs. “Kyra and Sienna went too hard on the tequila shots at the club, and they’re currently passed out. Aurora, Jackie, and I were just in their room talking.”

“About anything in particular?”

“Mostly hospital gossip, nothing major.” Naomi takes a step forward and wraps her arms around Ethan’s neck. “Take me to our room, we can order room service and have our own celebration.”

One of Ethan’s eyebrows raises at the command. His hand travels to his fiancée’s hip, squeezing roughly. “Oh yeah? What kind of celebration?”

“I don’t know,” Naomi says, playing coy. “But I’m sure you can come up with something, doctor.”

~v~

They manage to get to their floor in record time, after Ethan requests that a bottle of wine get sent up to their room, which is a miracle because they spend entirely too much time stumbling through the halls, stealing kisses and touching each other.

Because they got separated early in the day, Naomi didn’t get a chance to see the room she and Ethan would be staying in for the weekend. As soon as he slides the key card through the door and pushes it open, Naomi just knows.

It’s the same suite she and Ethan shared the first time they visited The Celestial. “Ethan, this is...wow.”

“I take it you’re surprised?”

“I’m more than surprised.”

Naomi wanders around the room, her fingers lightly touching all of the fixtures. The bedding is still the same, white and lavender, the room open and light. It even smells the same, and suddenly she’s transported back in time, 3 years ago.

Leaving Ethan where he’s standing, Naomi heads to the balcony, throwing open the sliding glass door. Everything is so still, weird for a city like Miami that’s constantly buzzing with energy. She doesn’t notice Ethan step out a minute later, a chilled bottle of merlot and two glasses in his hand.

He pops open the bottle and pours them both a glass, handing one to her. “Would you like to toast?”

“Sure.” Naomi raises her glass. “Here’s to us, our upcoming nuptials, and the best marriage the world has ever seen.”

“That’s a bold toast.” Ethan gently clinks his glass against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

Naomi takes a hearty sip, ignoring all of the tips a sommelier usually gives on how to drink, the fruitiness of the wine taking over. She watches as Ethan heads to the railing, his own glass less than full.

“I still can’t believe you managed to get this room,” she says, sighing wistfully, overlooking the ocean from her vantage point. “How did you pull it off?”

“Everyone has a price. I said money was no object, and when I told them it was a surprise for my fiancée, they were a bit more inclined to help.”

“Really?” Ethan hums and nods in response. 

“I told them the room has sentimental value to me,” he explains further. “It’s the room where I realized I was utterly helpless against your charms.”

“Ethan Ramsey, you’re truly a romantic at heart.”

He’ll never get used to hearing her praise him so openly. Ethan ducks his head down so Naomi can’t see the flush creeping up his neck at the compliment. “You bring out this romantic side of me.”

She goes to join him at the railing. He doesn’t say anything, but he slips his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Butterflies bloom in her stomach at his words. It’s nice to know that their first trip to Miami means so much to him, because it was an absolute game changer for her.

“I remember everything about that night so vividly,” Naomi says, her voice almost a whisper.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Losing to Declan in that poker match, coming out here, sharing a bottle of pinot noir, and talking about Naveen and my dreams for the type of doctor I want to be. I remember it all.”

“And then we kissed,” Ethan adds.

“Oh yeah, we did kiss, huh? I can’t believe I almost forgot that.”

“Ha ha, Rookie.”

“You know I’m just kidding. Of course I remember that kiss. It was the start of quite the journey for us.” A pained look flashed across Ethan’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I kissed you and then I immediately reneged. I started us on that ridiculous journey and wasted so much precious time because I didn’t want to admit that I was falling for you.”

“Hey.” Naomi grabs Ethan’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, and look at where we are right now. We’re getting married next week, we’re starting the rest of our lives together. Yes, the journey took a bit longer than I had hoped, but I don’t think I’d change anything in our past. It’s led us to this moment right here.”

“How are you so much more...wise and articulate than me?”

Naomi shrugs. “It’s a gift. Not everyone is privileged to possess it.”

“You remember all of the broad strokes of that night in Miami, but I’m more fond of the tiny details.”

“Like what?”

“I remember your blue dress and how it matched my eyes,” he starts. “I remember the sweet smell of your perfume, jasmine. I remember your coconut shampoo. I remember the way your pupils dilated when you saw me step out of the shower.” Ethan pulls Naomi closer to him and one of his hands gently cups her face. “It’s the same look you gave me when you realized that I threw that poker game for Naveen’s benefit, one of pure awe.”

“Your skin was incredibly soft,” Ethan continues, his finger tracing a nonsensical pattern on her collarbone. “Like silk. And it still is. But you want to know my favorite memory of that night?”

“Wh-what?”

A hand underneath her chin, Ethan tilts Naomi’s head up, their lips dangerously close. If she moves just a hair closer, they’ll be kissing. She’s tempted to just take the plunge, but she’s frozen, trapped under a spell of his.

With that, Ethan’s mouth descends on hers, pulling Naomi into a kiss with a ferocity she wasn’t expecting. She melts into it immediately, moaning, her hand flying to the back of his neck, getting tangled in the hair at the nape. She can taste the wine of him, the sweet taste of cherries as tongue slips into her mouth, deepening the kiss.

Ethan pulls away only to nip at the corner of her mouth. “That fucking moan of yours. The tiny little noise you make at the back of your throat whenever you’re aroused. It’s been playing in my head on a loop ever since.”

His beard scratches a path down Naomi’s neck and shoulder as he kisses her.

“You want to make that sound for me again?” Naomi nods frantically, desperate for whatever is about to come her way. “Good girl.”

Taking her hand, Ethan pulls her away from the railing. Instead of heading back into their suite, he presses her into the tall pillar next to them, barely giving her enough time to put down her wine glass. The exposed skin of her back collides into the pillar with a soft thud.

“Out here?” She asks with a squeak as Ethan tugs at her dress.

Ethan shrugs. “Why not?”

His lips are on her neck again in an instant, clouding her judgment and making it harder to respond. “Someone can–” she dissolved into a fit of moans at Ethan’s ministrations. “Someone can see us.”

“We’re thirty floors up,” Ethan deadpans. “And it’s pitch black out here, no one will see us.” He grabs her hips, pulling her flush against him, and Naomi gasps at how hard he is. “Now hearing you, that’s another story. You’re loud and I have every intention to make you scream.”

If he wasn’t holding onto her, Naomi is sure she would’ve fallen over at his words. Ethan’s cockiness is on full display, and arrogant Ethan was definitely one of her favorite versions of him.

Ethan pulls away, giving Naomi a bit of breathing room so she can properly think again. “Does that sound like a plan, Valentine? Me having my way with you right here on this balcony?”

“God, yes.” She ignores the way he smirks at her unbridled eagerness. Ethan has a healthy enough ego without her stroking it.

“Correct answer, Rookie.”

Ethan’s hand wraps around the silky material at the top of Naomi’s dress and yanks it down. Naomi hears the ripping of the material and her eyes fly open in shock at the cool Miami air hitting her exposed chest.

“We’re going to have to talk about the serious lack of respect you have for my clothing.”

“You told me you got this dress because someone you called a “Pictagram influencer” advertised it and had a coupon code making it 70% cheaper,” Ethan counters.

“Yes, the dress was cheap, but you have to stop ripping all of my clothes.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“With a new dress?”

Ethan rolls his eyes at his fiancée’s quip, but he ignores it. “Something better.” He kisses down her neck and chest, stopping to wrap his lips around her nipple, biting down gently.

It takes a second for Naomi to register that the source of the unladylike growl filling the air is her. She grips Ethan’s shoulder to steady herself, her nails digging through his shirt, and her head falls forward at the sensation.

“You’re always so responsive to me,” Ethan murmurs softly. His mouth descends on her other nipple, his tongue flattening over the pebbled bit of flesh. “And I don’t even have to do anything to you.”

“Well, can you do something to me?”

“You young people have no patience,” Ethan clicks his tongue teasingly. Slowly, he sinks down to his knees in front of Naomi, tugging her dress down with him. He’s already ripped it, there’s no use in exercising any more care. The sparkly dress pools at Naomi’s feet and she kicks it away.

“You old people move too slow–”

The words die on her throat as Ethan hooks a finger into the band of underwear and tugs them down at a frenzied pace. His calloused fingers dig into her hips, hard enough to bruise. She always calls him old, teasing him into accepting whatever challenge she’s thrown his way. “I’ll show you old, Rookie.”

Leaving her hip, one of Ethan’s hands travels to her knee, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He hooks her leg over his shoulder, giving him more leverage.

She can feel his breath, warm and tickling on the inside of her thigh, so close, yet so far away from where she actually needs him to be. Her hips fly forward, a silent plea for him to continue this little game they’re playing. Thankfully Ethan doesn’t tease her any further as his tongue flies out, licking at her folds.

Naomi inhales sharply and she nearly hikes up the wall at the sensation. “Oh, God.”

“You’re so wet for me, Naomi,” Ethan whispers against the overly sensitive flesh.

He dives back in, moaning against her and Naomi throws her head back at the vibration. “Always for you.”

She can tell by the way his blue eyes sparkle as they lock eyes that he’s smirking. But Naomi doesn’t have time to care about that because his lips wrap around her clit and he sucks hard. Naomi cards her fingers through his hair, tugging at him roughly, like she will die if he doesn’t keep his attention right where it is. 

It doesn’t last long though, and with ridiculous strength and skill, Ethan manages to grab her wrists in one hand, and keeps her hips planted against the pole with the other. Naomi receives the message loud and clear: he’s in control here, unequivocally.

Secure in the fact that she won’t be doing too much moving, Ethan doubles down, his tongue lapping at her. The familiar scratch of his beard against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh only makes her more delirious with lust.

Molten core levels of heat prick at every bit of her skin, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Her stomach tightens and there’s a tingle at the base of her spine. She’s close and it’s not fair that he can make her come this quick, and she’s not sure if she hates it or loves it. “I’m gonna–”

“I know.”

Ethan pulls away slightly, but Naomi doesn’t get the chance to whine about it. In an instant, he’s slipped a finger inside of her, earning a groan. He is just so...relentless in his goal, and Naomi barely has a chance to breathe before she’s keening (something so dramatic and unlike her. Ethan will never let her live it down). Her orgasm is swift, crashing into her like a tidal wave, knocking her off kilter almost instantly. Ethan doesn’t back away, his mouth still on her, working her through the release.

Her entire body is buzzing, still wracked with aftershocks when Ethan finally stands up. His eyes are dark, no longer the ocean blue they usually are, now taking on something closer to the midnight sky, fully dilated and hooded. His mouth is wet, slick with...well her, and Naomi has never wanted to kiss him more.

“That was a promising start,” Ethan says. “But it’s just that: a start. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

A start? If Naomi had the energy to do so, she would laugh at him, but one look in Ethan’s eyes lets her know that he’s being serious. She gulps audibly. She’s a shaky puddle of goo right now, and that was only the beginning?

“Turn around, hands against the pillar,” Ethan commands.

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Naomi. Hands out, ass up.”

He’s using his commanding doctor voice on her, and she loves it. Naomi does what she’s told, palms flat against the pillar holding up the balcony.

She hears rustling from behind, and she’s sure he’s undressing. Now she’s extremely aware of their power imbalance: she’s stark naked, save for a pair of high heels, while he’s still fully dressed. It’s not fair. Shifting slightly, Naomi lifts a foot and shakes it, hoping to get the shoe off in one fell swoop.

She’s stopped short of her plan as a sharp smack is delivered to her ass. She’s unable to contain the expletive in her throat, a loud, “Fuck!” drifting into the Miami air.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ethan asks.

“Taking off these heels.”

He tsks at her, as if the answer isn’t good enough. “I don’t remember giving you permission to do so.”

The authoritative tone zips straight through her, and Naomi turns to face him, putting on her best doe eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Christ.” Naomi didn’t know it was possible, but Ethan’s eyes darken even further at the word. He doesn’t bother stripping out the rest of his clothes, just quickly undoing his belt and pushing his pants down until they pool at his ankles. Without warning, Ethan wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Naomi’s back collides with his chest with a hard thud. “Kiss me.”

That’s not a command that needs repeating. Naomi tilts her head back in an attempt to kiss him, but their vast height difference and Ethan’s death grip on her make it a challenge. She just barely manages to capture the corner of his mouth before Ethan growls impatiently, and grabs her neck, forcing her head back to deepen the kiss.

It’s overwhelming and heady, and she’s so caught up in it, she doesn’t even realize his cock, hard and pulsing, is poised at the entrance until he plunges into her in one smooth thrust.

If he wanted her loud, he got what he asked for, because Naomi breaks their kiss in order to scream at the welcome intrusion. The air rushes from her lungs, and she can’t even begin to breathe again before Ethan pulls out and enters her again with just as much intensity as before.

She feels delirious, and she can’t pinpoint why. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re 400 feet above solid ground, and one look down makes her head spin. Maybe it’s the fact that someone, somewhere in this hotel knows exactly what they’re doing. Maybe it’s the fact that every inch of her skin burns deliciously as Ethan has her stretched at full fucking capacity, and she has nowhere to run or hide. There’s no sheets she can pull, no pillows to muffle her moans, nothing she can grab onto to anchor herself to reality. She’s suspended in this moment, and she can’t do anything but simply take it as Ethan fucks into her like a madman.

The noises she’s making along with the sound of their skin slapping together is wildly obscene, and it only spurs Ethan on. Abandoning her throat, his hand travels down to her chest, his forefinger and thumb pinching her nipple, bringing the tiny nub to an almost painfully hard peak. He makes sure to give the same level of attention to the other nipple, torturing his fiancée until she’s whining unintelligibly.

His lips find her earlobe and he bites down. “Are you close again?”

“Yes,” Naomi answers.

Instead of speeding up, Ethan slows down, his thrusts slowing down to an agonizingly deep pace, fully pulling out of her and thrusting in again at a leisurely pace, the sole intent of driving her insane.

“Ethan,” she whines. She’s a shaking mess, unable to do much else besides cry out and occasionally moan his name. Her spine curves, back arching and her head falls against his shoulder. “Fuck! Ethan, please.”

“Please, what?”

Despite his teasing, Naomi can tell he’s just as desperate as she is. His breath is coming out in ragged and uneven pants, there’s a thin layer of sweat, slick and coating his chest, and she can feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic against her back. He’s just as tortured as she is.

In a Hail Mary attempt to get what she wants, her inner muscles clench down on him, stopping him mid-thrust. Ethan’s knees buckle, the move unexpected and throwing him off-kilter.

“Shit, Naomi,” he manages to rasp out. “You don’t play fair.”

Being fair has no place in this, she plays to win, but she has no time to throw it back in his face as he presses into her clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her yelp.

If her last climax felt like getting slammed with a tidal wave, this one feels like floating down a river: languid and unrelenting, refusing to stop. It consumes her entire body, engulfing her in pleasure so white hot and intense, she’s sure stars are popping behind her eyelids as every bit of pleasure is wrung out of her body until there’s nothing left to give.

Ethan’s thrusts speed up again, messy and spasmodic, all rhythm gone. His hips snap against hers before she feels him coming, his entire body going rigid.

Thankfully, Ethan has enough energy left to pull them into a chair because Naomi was more than willing to simply collapse onto the concrete and stay there. She curls into his side, her face finding a spot in the crook of his neck.

They don’t speak for what feels like forever, both just trying to regulate their breathing and return back to normal.

Ethan breaks the comfortable silence, but Naomi barely realizes he’s talking before it’s too late to fully listen. She tilts her head back so they can lock eyes. “What?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” Ethan says.

“I can’t feel my legs,” is all Naomi manages to say. Ethan chuckles and reaches forward, slipping Naomi’s heels off, the relief pretty much instant.

“Better?”

“Much.” She sighs sleepily, her eyelids growing heavy. She burrows deeper into his side, Ethan’s body heat lulling her to sleep. “This was much better than staying in the girls’ room.”

“And it was much better than going to a strip club with your friends,” Ethan adds.

“You like them. They’re your friends too, don’t deny it.” Ethan doesn’t outright confirm or deny anything, which is all the confirmation Naomi needs. “Told you so.”

“How about a shower, Miss Know-It-All?” 

“Sounds great,” Naomi huffs, but she makes no effort to move.

“This is doing more for my ego than you’ll ever know.” Ethan is careful, extracting himself from Naomi’s grip in order to get up. He then hooks his arms underneath her, lifting her up bridal style to carry her back into their suite.

Naomi might as well be unconscious because she’s dead weight in his arms as he maneuvers his way to the en-suite. Thankfully the shower isn’t complicated and all Ethan has to do is turn a few knobs for it to turn on. He waits a few seconds to make sure the water is the perfect temperature, before pulling Naomi in with him.

They don’t spend too much time in the marble and glass box, as Ethan can see Naomi is probably seconds from passing out. The shower is over almost as quickly as it began. Both wrapped in large hotel robes, Ethan nudges Naomi back to the bedroom where she collapses face down onto their bed.

Once Ethan is in bed with her, Naomi rolls over, her face firmly planted on his chest. Upon making contact, Naomi sighs.

Ethan kisses the top of her head. “I can practically hear your thoughts. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Naomi assures him. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“It just feels...surreal, being back in Miami, being back in this room,” Naomi explains. “We’re getting married next weekend.”

Ethan lifts Naomi’s left hand, her engagement ring sparkling in the moonlight. “It does feel surreal.”

“I think we should make it a tradition, coming out here.” Ethan looks down at her, a curious eyebrow raised. Naomi feels the need to explain herself, the words rushing out of her mouth. “It doesn’t have to be annual or anything, but I want this to be our special place.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Ethan says. The next they come to Miami, she’s going to be his wife, and the thought spends a thrill down his spine.

“And we have to have sex on the balcony. It’s tradition now.”

“I’m starting to think you only want me for my body.”

“Of course not,” Naomi argues. “I’m in it for your money, too.” Ethan pinches her leg for the teasing, and she squirms away from him, laughing.

“When I die, I’m bequeathing all of my money to Jenner.”

“He’s a good boy, he’d share with me.” 

Ethan rolls his eyes and pulls Naomi in for another kiss. They don’t make it very far though, as the sound of a cell phone pierces through the air, making them spring apart.

“Yours or mine?” Ethan asks, eyes scanning the room for the source of the noise.

Naomi bends over and sees her cell phone on the floor by their bed, and not on the nightstand. 

Weird. She picks it up, and her eyes widen at the amount of texts she’s received in the past minute, the vibration so strong, it knocked the phone off of the table. “It’s mine.”

Bryce L: DUDE!!!

Bryce L: Where the duck r u?

Bryce L: ????????????????????????????????

Bryce L: Srsly not funny, did u run away from ur own bachelor party?

Bryce L: Pick up fone. Nay will murder us for losing u. 

Bryce L: But I will murder fist, 4 running away

Bryce L: Oh shut. Naomi, ignore this!!! 

Bryce L: JK, false alarm

Bryce L: Ethan is fine, picky promise!

Between the misspelled words and strings of emojis, Naomi can tell that her surgeon friend is completely drunk, but she manages to figure out what he’s saying. “So Bryce is having a meltdown because he lost you.” Taking the phone from Naomi’s hand, Ethan holds it up to his face, squinting as he reads. “And he thinks he was texting you, when he really just texted me.”

Ethan chuckles slightly, and mere seconds later, his own cell phone rings ‘Dr. Bryce Lahela’ flashing across the screen. “He’s figured it out, and he’s calling me now. Should I answer?”

“No. Let them have their Hangover moment.”

“Their what?”

“From The Hangover. The movie with Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, Zack Galifiniakis where they get totally shitfaced and lose their best friend a day before his wedding,” Naomi explains. Ethan just stares at her blankly. “Oh my gosh, you’ve never seen it?”

“How does this come as a shock to you, Rookie?”

“Well, we can't get married until you’ve seen the entire trilogy.”

That makes Ethan’s brows fly up. “There’s 3 of those movies that you want me to sit through?”

“God Grandpa, you’re so lame,” Naomi groans and her hand reaches out onto the nightstand, grabbing the remote control. She points to the large flatscreen tv in front of them. “Hopefully we can order movies on this. If not, I brought my laptop so–” Ethan plucks the remote from her hand, and tosses it to the edge of the king sized bed. It lands softly. “Hey!”

“I don’t care about some stupid movie.”

“It’s not stu–” He tugs at the knot holding her robe together until it falls open. “Ethan…”

“You have options, soon to be Missus Ramsey,” Ethan starts. He rolls over until he’s on top of Naomi, his arms bracing either side of her cage, caging her underneath him. “We can watch that movie, or we can pick up where we left off on the balcony. Which choice do you prefer?”

“The movie,” Naomi quips back with a smirk.

She laughs at her own joke and Ethan’s eyes darken mischievously, taking on the challenge. “Just for that, I’m going to guarantee that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

[hallowedmuses]

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟

SUMMARY: Our ragtag team of heroes including Natasha Romanoff, Daniel Sousa, Clint Barton, Loki Laufeyson, Veronica Stevens, and Deke come together to rescue Director Daisy Johnson from the clutches of Lucia von Bardas. TRIGGERS: Torture, Violence, PTSD, Trauma WRITTEN WITH: @ofbartons, @oflokismischief, @ofdcniels, @daisyljohnson, @ronniestvns, @oflemcns

CLINT: when loki woke him up for the rescue mission, clint wasted no time. he threw on the first shirt he could find, which luckily was clean, and his shoes before literally tumbling out the door with his bow in hand. his fuzzy pizza-sliced patterned pajama pants wasn't the most tactical choice, but then again neither was his bright purple t-shirt and converse. once they'd arrived at the hellicarrier, clint took out the guards on a section of the deck before firing a bomb arrow at the wall to create a point of entry for 'tasha and the dude in the blue shirt. "i will admit, being subtle might have been the smarter play here." he chuckled over the comms while firing a trio of arrows. the explosion had two purposes in his head- one, the point of entry, and two, draw attention away from daisy's rescue duo. the second purpose was just working a little better than he'd thought it would. he slid across the deck, firing off a couple more arrows before standing up and kicking one of the guards in the chest. using the controls on the handle of his bow, he switched to a smoke arrow before aiming at a group of the guards "hey lo, i'm really glad you have the cape still." keeping the arrow drawn back, clint turned his head to look at his boyfriend "otherwise i'd be too distracted by that ass of yours." he winked and let the arrow loose, still looking in loki's direction "not to mention all these schmucks would be staring at it." he switched back to regular arrows before firing into the smoke.

LOKI: Loki should've known Clint would be far from ready when it was time to lead the mission, it had been quite awhile since he'd gone into battle but then again he did quite love the hunt when it came down too it. His mission was simply and if anything he could easily take out anything humans could throw at him. "Possibly but then again we have quite the army of people who have been missing out dear Director and I'd burn the place down if she wasn't in there." He mused throwing iced daggers at all who dared come near. For those who got to close they were met with his quick stabs and his illusions. when he heard his boyfriend speak chuckling softly "Its all about fashion darling, Those little SHIELD outfits do nothing for my figure" He mused back looking at Clint he always found his Archery skills rather attractive before he rolled his eyes "as for my ass I'm sure I can other wise to distract you, maybe flirt with a villain or two and see how much of your spy skills come out to play, after all Green is quite your color my hawk"

NATASHA: "Subtilty was never your strong suit, but I do appreciate the flare. The pajamas make it easier to find you too," she laughed as Clint shot a few explosive arrows to give herself and Daniel an entry point into the helicarrier. As Clint, Loki, and Ronnie guided Lucia's guards away from the entry point, Natasha and Daniel made their way in. Natasha fired off a few taser disks, hitting the oncoming guards squarely in the chest. She watched them fall to the floor, convulsing as electric shocks ran through their body. As the guards fought to peel the taser disks off of themselves, Natasha made her way through the hallway. She ducked as a few rounds of bullets came flying at her and Daniel. She grabbed him and pulled him toward the wall for cover. Natasha used the wall to shield herself as she fired at the oncoming guards. "Ronnie, have you located the room where Daisy's being held captive?" They could aimlessly fire rounds all day, but they needed to know what direction to go. She made a face as she heard bits and pieces of Clint and Loki's conversation over coms. "Honestly," she frowned and looked over at Daniel. "I can't even be mad. I did this to myself inviting those two along."

RONNIE: “Yea... I’m working.. on it.” Veronica breathlessly remarked over the coms. A few grunts could be heard as she flipped the guard she’d been tangled up with and stabbed him with one of poison daggers.  “Now where were we.. a yess.. here we go.” Ronnie grabbed her data pad, ducking down behind a bolder as she took control of the building. “I’m in, I’ve got eyes on Daisy.. She’s alive..” Ronnie neglected to add how bad she looked from the live feed she was getting on their shitty surveillance system. “She’s on the fourth floor, third door to the right. Give me thirty seconds, I’m disabling the alarms and lock mechanisms now. I’m about to fry the fuck out of their systems and equipment. Can’t promise I won’t blow the lights.. hope you brought flares.” Ronnie playfully teased, falling forward as a couple of guards began to fire at her out of no where. “Hey lover boys! As uncute as it is listening to you flirt endlessly while taking out guards, I could use some help over here! Cover me while I shut down their main line.” She made a mental note to switch them over to their own channel when she was finished here.

DANIEL: while this wasn't the strangest mission he'd ever been on, that title probably had to go to the whitney frost case, this had to be the most chaotic and strange team daniel had been apart of. you had not one but two super spies (one of which was in pajamas and using a bow and arrow of all things), a tech genius, a god (or were they an alien? daniel was a little fuzzy on that particular detail), and deke... at least most of them seemed to know what they were doing. daniel ducked down when agent romanoff pulled him out of the line of fire "thanks." he waited for the shooting to stop, meaning the men were reloading, and once they did he leaned out at shot the men. keeping low he moved towards the door to the stairwell one he heard daisy's location. daniel couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him at the couple's banter "compared to the things i've heard howard utter, this is nothing."

DEKE: In the past, when Deke had thought about his 'next cool mission' this had hardly been the thing in his mind. Not Arrow-Guy in his pajamas, not working with someone who practically a God, Black Widow herself or well, any of them. Certainly not Daisy being in danger like this... But still, he was nothing if not adaptable. So adapt he did. Rescue Daisy now, rankle his mind about all these events later. There was something pretty calming about the group of them being so casual and prepared (though he still felt a spike of fear at every loud noise, the many of them). He was working with the best, Deke reminded himself. He'd gotten the Hyperbaric Chamber ready to go for Daisy upon their return, nervously awaiting. In one of his more anxious moments  he'd thought about preparing food for Daisy before remembering he wouldn't know how long she'd be in there for. So, with the chamber up and waiting, Deke listened on the comms and waited. "How's it looking? It sounds pretty crowded." Crowded, being the word for all the many enemies they seemed to be facing (and taking down). "You guys doing okay?" He was fairly sure they were but it didn't hurt to ask.

DAISY: Daisy had been living in a fantasy world, but it could only last so long before she eventually had to wake up. Wake up was a relative term. It didn't mean she was entirely awake and aware, more so that she had to wake to the reality of her situation, that there were no happy endings, that she couldn't get what she wanted, that actions had consequences, and even when you thought you won, it could come back to bite you in the ass. In the time that it had taken everyone to track down her kidnappers, Daisy had been put through several different forms of torture. Lucia had even been so kind as to grace her with her presence, reminding Daisy of what she'd done to the woman and how everything she was going through now was her own fault. Daisy could give her that much. Daisy had done her fair share of awful things, even if she hadn't been entirely in control of her own actions at the time. Nick Fury Sr. had made sure of that. It seemed that even after she'd taken things over from him, he still managed to screw up her life, but in the end she wasn't really surprised by any of this.

Currently, she didn't know where Lucia was, and she was just surrounded by guards who had all made sure not to listen to a word she said. Still, that didn't mean she wouldn't try. Her ears were ringing, but she could still feel some kind of activity on the ship. She spat out blood. "Sounds like . . . you've got company," she taunted, her voice raspy and barely carrying out to them. Her breathing was shaky and uneven. "You might . . . wanna go deal with that." They ignored her, saying nothing.

CLINT: clint had been in a lot of sticky situations before, but this wasn't one of them... if anything he was like a greased up hog running from the farmers trying to catch him, which might be a little dangerous for him. bad things tended to happen to him when he got too confident, but at least both loki and 'tasha were here to keep him from dying. he was about to fire off an arrow when a guard came up on his left, so he turned and stabbed the arrow into the guy's eye "oooh... i hope your insurance includes vision." clint quipped as he fired another set of arrows into the group. "aww, don't be like that lady. you know that my husband and i are cute as fuck." he winked at her as he ran by, headed towards loki... not because he needed the back up but purely because clint wanted to get another look at loki. his look was different from the last time clint had seen him in his battle gear and the blonde had to admit it was a damn fine look. "hey handsome! you come here often?"

LOKI: Loki had enjoyed the thrill of field work, it had been such a long time since he'd been able to use his daggers and magic against an actual threat. The best part was having Clint fight side by side him, before they'd been on opposite sides of a war, never sharing more the small glances. He fought with a passion ensuring they would clear a spot to bring Daisy home, there was no way he was leaving without her even if it cost every single on of these humans lives. "Did you really just say that Clint?" He questioned chuckling softy as he quickly disarmed three more guys pinning them down with a couple of his daggers. "We actually are, plus you are the driving force that brought us together in life and on this mission. The blame is fully on your shoulders Nat darling." He teased the other as he noticed his lover coming towards him. He could easily see that glint in his eye whenever Clint saw Loki in his more regal clothes, though now he'd donned on his Asgardian wear leaving that as his go too field work outfit. He turned to reply to Clint before throwing a dagger right into the bad guy who'd tried to take Clint by surprise. "Depends on who's asking, and if they are going to buy me dinner first," He mused winking at Clint.

NATASHA: Natasha had learned long ago to tune out the chatter of the coms. She kept her volume low so she could focus on their current situation. If shit hit the fan outside, she trusted her team to be able to handle it. "Ah, Howard Stark. If working with him is anything like working with his son, I'd pass on the opportunity," she joked. Tony wasn't so bad...in small dosages anyway. The lights on their side of the helicarrier flickered before going out completely. In the next moment, Natasha and Daniel were bathed in an eerie red light. Ronnie must've knocked out the security system. Only the emergency lights were operational now. "Fourth floor, third door," Natasha nodded as they slipped into the stairwell. She heard heavy boots above them. Reinforcements were coming through. "Five pairs of boots," she whispered to Daniel as she ducked behind one of the spirals. As the sound of boots came closer, Natasha shot a taser disk at the first guard. He convulsed and fell forward, tumbling down the stairs. He was wearing the same mask Natasha saw in her memories. The widow jumped out from behind one of the spirals and landed a kick square in the chest of one of the guards. He fell forward and took a third guard down with him. Three out of five. Not bad. She turned to take down the other two, but it appeared Blue Shirt was already disengaging them. She would have to share the body cam footage from her stealth suit with Daisy later. That was sure to lift her spirits.

RONNIE: “Nice one Nat.” Ronnie mused as she watched Nat take out three guards at once, followed by Daniel knocking out a couple more. “You kids make a good team. Daisy’s gonna be so proud.” She snickered into her earpiece. She’d muted Loki and Clint’s come but kept an eyes on everyone’s body cams in case the lover boys got into trouble. She loved them dearly, but their banter was brining her lunch back up.  “They’ve got her surrounded.. ten.. maybe fifteen guys.. the footage is shit.. but I’m trying.. ” Ronnie relayed, watching the room she was being held in like a hawk. “She’s saying something to them but no ones budging... hold on..” a few clips to enhance the audio and suddenly Ronnie was sporting a shit eating grin. “I knows we’re here. Hang on, Director.. we’re coming for you.”  

DANIEL: hearing that they had eyes on daisy made him feel a little better but he wouldn't feel settled until she was out of here completely. after kicking the fifth guard in the chest, with his bionic leg for good measure, he turned towards natasha to see if she needed help "ten to fifteen? i think we can handle that." daniel smirked before reloading his guns "so how do you want to do this?" he peeked around the corner seeing that there were no guards outside the room but daniel knew all hell would break loose once they went in.

DEKE: He listened intently to the communications, hoping to hear word of Daisy's safety and prepare the Hyperbaric Chamber for her. Well, it was mostly prepared. It'd really be him opening the thing, then everything was smooth sailing. That is, if her injuries could be healed by it... Which they should. Unless she literally lost a limb or died she should be fine. She would be fine. He heard the ruckus over the comms and felt his heart swell with fear. "Any eyes on Daisy yet?" He asked desperately. Then he heard it. They found Daisy. "Is she okay?!" He asked over the coms, without much hope of getting an answer. They had other things keeping them busy, after all. So he continued waiting anxiously.

DAISY: As the fighting outside continued, the guards around Daisy got more anxious. They could hear on their comms that they weren't exactly winning this fight. "Let's just get rid of the dead weight," said one of the guards. "I doubt Lucia wants this one alive anyways."

"Did you hear her say that or are you just assuming shit again?" asked the other guard. "You know what she'll do if we go against her orders."

"Screw her orders. That's the fucking Avengers out there. If Lucia wants her alive, we can just blame her death on the Avengers, say they didn't give us any choice. Hell, we can say she attacked us." He pulled the tubes that had been connected to Daisy out, but there were still drugs in her system. She couldn't do much. She could barely move. He pulled her up by her hair, shoving a gun against her skull. "You're going to get them to stand down, or you're going to die.

"Guess. . ." Daisy choked on her words. It was hard to focus on her words, when she was focused on something else. "Guess I'll die then." Her shoulders moved up slightly in a shrug. She wasn't actually expecting to die now. She imagined Natasha was probably leading this charge, and these guards didn't stand a chance against her. If Daisy could just move her fingers a little more, she could help Natasha too. There. A small tremor shot out from her fingertips, and the door to the room slammed open. The guard still had a gun to Daisy's head, but Natasha would be here in 5...4...3...2...1... //

NATASHA: "Thanks, Ronnie," she replied when Ronnie relayed the message about what was waiting for them up ahead. "I dunno, Danny Boy," she smirked up at him. "I seem to be carrying all the weight here," she elbowed him gently. "Pick up the slack or I'm gonna leave you behind and save your girl myself. Maybe I'll steal the kiss right from under you too." Natasha glanced down at her utility belt to see what supplies she still had left. "I still have a few taser disks left. That should be enough to shock the oncoming guards. The rest we can take down the good old fashion way." And with that she heard the door to the room where Daisy was being held slam open. "Good girl," Nat grinned. Daisy was a fighter till the end. "Come on, Daniel. Let's work for a living." Natasha sprinted into the room full force. It didn't take long to make an assessment of the danger. She threw the first taser disk at the man who'd had a gun to Daisy's head. He dropped the weapon and began to convulse on the floor. Natasha threw the remaining disks that she had at the next few guards that tried to come at her. She used the momentum of their falling bodies to take down a couple more men. She was really hoping this would be the last of them.

DANIEL: the male let out a quiet huff at the update from ronnie "quack right?" he raised a brow before rolling his shoulders "to be fair, you are enhanced." daniel joked. he looked calm on the outside but internally he was worried about his girl... if that's still what she was. plenty of time had passed for her and daisy was probably given many opportunities to move on from some square she only knew for a short time... he wouldn't blame her in the slightest. nodding he followed after natasha, downing guards with his guns before exchanging blows with a couple. he dropped to the ground and knocked the legs out from under one before moving towards daisy his heart nearly breaking at the state she was in.

his hands were shaking slightly as he knelt down by her “hey... what did i tell you huh? i thought you were supposed to take care of yourself.” he was so relieved to see her again, although this wasn’t the reunion he had been hoping for after he had to stay behind to make sure that the team was able to escape back to their timeline with the chronicoms in tow. he worked as quickly as he could, removing any leftover wires and nodes from her body, while talking to her about... well, anything really. if anyone asked him later what he’d said, danny boy wouldn’t be able to tell you. his focus was getting daisy out of there and making sure she was safe. after he pulled the helmet off her head, he started brushing the hair out of her face “keep fighting okay? you stay awake for me daisy and i’m gonna get you home.” memories flashed in his mind of their time in the barn with malick, his heart breaking at the fact people kept hurting the amazing woman in front of him. he’d kick himself later for not trying to find a way back to her sooner, could he have prevented this from happening if he had? or perhaps he’d have been taken too, used against her in some way... he’d never really know, but daniel had to focus now. get her home, get her safe, make sure she’s okay three easy goals he could focus on. as gently as he could, daniel gathered daisy up in his arms and lifted her from the ground. “i got you sweetheart, it’s okay.”

DAISY: As the man who had been holding Daisy fell after being tased by Natasha, Daisy crumpled too, her body unable to hold herself up after constant torture. She was glad to have been right about Natasha coming in, but after her head hit the floor, her awareness of what was around her was fading again. She vaguely heard the sound of fighting, and then there was a familiar voice that she hadn't heard in a long time. Her eyes, covered in her own blood, wouldn't open anymore, but she recognized Daniel. She must've been slipping. It was a result of being so close to death. An auditory hallucination. It wasn't real. "Daniel?" she whispered, allowing herself to ask even when she knew this wasn't real.  

NATASHA: Natasha was tired as she took out the last of the guards. Parts of her tactical suit were torn and her lip was bloody from where one of them managed to hit her, but she was thankfully in one piece. She pushed her coms button to give the team a status update. "We have Daisy," she informed them. "We're en route out through the north bay entrance. Take the carrier, find Lucia," her voice took on a darker tone. "I have some questions for her myself." Lucia von Bardas was the one that ordered this torture. Natasha was about to return the favor. She turned to see Daniel pick up Daisy. The woman was barely conscious at this point. Natasha approached them and gave Daisy a reckless smile before quacking obnoxiously. "I didn't give you permission to die. This is so unprofessional. I'm sure you'll make it up to me though."

Her coms buzzed. "Romanoff, we're in."

"Welcome to the party, boys," she grinned. Moments later she heard boots on the ground and the sound of rooms being checked and cleared. It was the back up unit that she'd called. "Come on, let's get her to the Hyperbaric Chamber."

DANIEL: "yeah sweetheart, it's me." he spoke softly as he adjusted his hold to keep a feel of her pulse like he had when he pulled her out of that barn all those years ago. watching the small interaction between natasha and daisy made him smile, seeing her have family like this made him so happy... it was everything she deserved. seeing the agents filing in daniel started moving out of the room, daisy didn't look too good and she needed to get back to hq to start recovering. he turned and looked over his shoulder, smirking slightly "you coming romanoff? thought you said you were gonna steal the kiss from me?"

DAISY: She still heard his voice speaking to her, and she felt like it was just a sign that she was going to slip away again soon. The sound of Natasha's voice was something she knew to be real. She could focus on it, though that was getting harder to do. She heard Lucia's name, and the hellicarrier started shaking violently. It wasn't intentional on Daisy's part. She was hardly in control of her body right now, but as Natasha came over to her and started quacking at her, Daisy calmed enough for the shaking to stop. She tried to return the greeting, but it only came out as choked gurgling. Apparently, blood in your throat didn't allow for very articulated speech, even in the instance of duck calls. She managed at least a small smile as Natasha criticized her for not getting permission to die. "n't dead yet," she wheezed out.

She felt herself being lifted up and moved through the halls. Her eyes weren't open, but she could hear and feel just well enough to know she was being moved quickly. Daniel's voice spoke again, and she had to remind herself again that this wasn't real. It was easier to believe that it was a hallucination from what he said. Even if it was her Daniel, she was sure Natasha would kick his ass for implying she was falling behind. Daisy hadn't been able to see much before, but she'd heard the fighting. Plus, she knew Natasha well enough too to know that she must've done almost all of the fighting here. From the sound of Natasha's orders, she was leading this thing. Whoever suggested she of all people was falling behind was going to regret the words coming out of their mouth. Daisy almost felt sorry for whoever it was, but at least it wasn't actually Daniel.

Whoever was carrying her, certainly not Daniel, got her off of the hellicarrier fairly quickly, or maybe Daisy was just losing her concept of time passing. She heard S.H.I.E.L.D. agents directing the person carrying her back to the zephyr, telling them to get her to the hyperbaric chamber as quickly as possible because she didn't look good. She fell back into unconsciousness before she found out if she made it into that chamber or not. Maybe she was dead. She hoped not. Natasha hadn't given her permission to die yet. How would she make it up to her?

DEKE: Deke was nervous. Not his usual 'state of being' kind of nervous but the more dastardly 'holy shit is my friend alive' kind of nervous. Also the 'she got tortured and it's my fault' kind of guilt laid in pretty thick too. But... he couldn't let that take away his focus right now. He needed to be an agent. Turn off the nerves and the guilt, he was a pro at it in the past he could for sure do it now. He would, if nothing else than for Daisy's sake. The moment Daisy was in, all hurt and bruised and broken but still Daisy, still strong. Well, Deke did what he did best. Move. As soon as it was possible with Daisy situated and safety in there the machination turned on and began it's process.

That was his part. Small. In the end, it was Daisy who would have the toughest job. And that was surviving. Deke inhaled deeply, wishing he could do more and knowing he could not. He ran a hand through his hair. "She'll be okay." He spoke, not even knowing if the words were for himself or the others. "She will..."

NATASHA: She rolled her eyes at Sousa's joke. "My pacing's fine. Yours though..." she frowned. She'd carried most of the operation from the investigation to the rescue mission itself so she wasn't even mildly amused. "We'll have to work on that if you wanna keep up with me and Daisy," she winked. She'd already stolen a kiss from Daisy...more than that actually. But she wasn't gonna tell the old man that. Bless his heart. Now that her team had moved in on the helicarrier, getting to the zephyr wasn't all to hard. Natasha's shoulders eased once Daisy was in the chamber. She would be okay.

"Romanoff, we have Lucia," one of her agents reported through the coms.

"I'm on my way." Natasha looked up at Deke, Daniel, and the others. "They have Lucia and I have questions." She also had a penchant for violence. And based on the way Daisy looked right now, Natasha had no plans to go easy on Lucia. "I think you guys can manage from here. Get Daisy home safe or the next body I bury will be yours," she informed the team. It was very clear she had the means to carry out on that threat. With that, Natasha left Daisy's side and made her way back to the helicarrier to interrogate Lucia. / END

[kasienda]

A Miraculous Reveal - Just an Ordinary (Bad) Day

Marinette choked back a cry as her eyes landed on the black butterfly that fluttered towards her. She slid down to the ground, and pulled her knees to her chest. How had she sunk this low? Yeah, her day had sucked, but it was the suck of an ordinary bad day where everything seemed to go wrong.

But it shouldn’t have been soul ending. Ladybug’s responsibilities hadn’t interrupted Marinette’s life at all. Chloé hadn’t been picking on or undermining her. Lila hadn’t cornered her in the bathroom, and while her history teacher was probably irritated that she had run out of class, she wasn’t facing a potential expulsion.

It was just an ordinary bad day.

Surely, not anything worthy of an akuma. Especially not an akuma for Ladybug.

Marinette should have been able to handle it. She always handled it. She just needed to breathe deeply and calm herself down.

And yet, the akuma fluttered ever closer.

Continue reading on Ao3

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to breathe.”

Marinette choked off a sob, scuttled backwards on her butt away from the sparkling butterfly, and did as her kwami advised. She took long and even breaths, trying to soothe herself, but she was losing the battle. Her tears threatened to claw back up her throat anyway.

It had been an absolutely terrible day.

It had started with the nightmares. She hadn’t been able to fall into slumber without tearing awake an hour later with her pajamas sticking to her sweat soaked form, struggling for air. On a bad night, Marinette didn’t always remember the haunting images that plagued her attempts at rest, but she would tear awake with a pounding heart and crying eyes just the same.

But this night, the dreams were far too vivid. In some, she faced the concerned faces of her friends and family, but she didn’t know their names. In another, she lived underground, living off rats after Hawkmoth’s dystopian wish came to fruition in the form of iron-clad authoritarian rule. But the worst nightmare featured Chat Blanc’s soulless blue eyes staring straight through her - never seeing his partner and friend. He hunted her through forests covered in winter white, or he threw her off the tallest building in Paris. And in the last one, he hadn’t tried to hurt her at all.

No, he had tried to turn his cataclysmic power on himself.

He had been so alone. Died alone in a desolate world.

She hadn’t been able to save him.

And after that, she had been unwilling to try again for sleep.

It felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Her head existed in a fog with a dull ache between her temples. Her thoughts and motivation were even more sluggish than usual this morning. She wished that she could just sleep through one whole night just once this week. Was that too much to ask?

When she hadn’t made it out of the bathroom quickly enough, her mother had been kind enough to leave a breakfast tray on her desk. Only, with a towel over her head as she was drying her hair, Marinette hadn’t seen it. She had knocked the whole tray - strewn with eggs, toast, and coffee - over onto the floor when she stumbled past. It wouldn’t have been a big deal except she had a project laid out on the floor. A pattern pinned in place that she hadn’t cut out yet. The coffee alone no doubt ruined the fabric she had spent months saving up to buy.

Marinette fell to her knees in front of the disaster.

Her mother found her there still clad in only her towel, staring stoically over the lost project.

When thin warm arms wrapped around her, Marinette’s started in surprise.

“Oh Marinette, I’m so sorry,” her mother apologized. “I didn’t mean to risk your project. I was trying to save you some time.”

Marinette shook her head against her mother’s chest. “It wasn’t your fault,” the teenager responded tonelessly. “I didn’t see it.”

“I can’t promise anything,” her mother soothed, as her hand rubbed warm circles along her back. “But I will try to save the fabric.”

Marinette nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes from the disaster. She didn’t know what she was feeling, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And it wasn’t really about the fabric. It was about everything.

If Ladybug hadn’t been needed last night, no doubt Marinette would have finished cutting the pieces out, and had the project tucked away safely.

If Marinette wasn’t the Guardian, she would have had more time to earn more money to replace the loss, and she would have more time in general to recreate the now soggy patterns. More time to spend on the things that brought her joy.

As it was, Papillon had her up and running frantic at all times of day and night.

It wasn’t fair.

“Marinette, I will clean this up,” her mother assured her, still rubbing her back. “Do you think you could start getting ready for school again?”

Marinette stumbled to her feet, and began the usual mad dash to collect all her things before heading off to school.

She was only five minutes late by the time she ran out the door, with a ham and cheese quiche in her bag as a second attempt at sustenance. It wasn’t until she had fallen into her usual seat beside her best friend that she realized she had forgotten her essay.

The essay that she had actually completed, proofread, edited, and printed out. The assignment was no doubt still laying in her printer’s document tray on her desk in her room.

She let her head fall to the desk in frustration. Why did it have to be for Mendeliev? Any other teacher would have let her retrieve the paper during lunch and turn it in for full credit. But Mendeliev? While the science teacher was never very sympathetic with anyone, she had lost all patience with Marinette and her scatterbrained tendencies months ago.

Which is why Marinette’s grade was in jeopardy. She could not afford this late penalty. Having to retake the course in summer school was the absolute last thing she needed to add onto her plate.

At the end of class she had asked anyway, but the stern science teacher glared down her nose. “We’ve already had this conversation, Marinette,” she said coldly. “I’ve no interest in repeating it now.”

Her head hung low, Marinette trudged into the hallway barely noticing the bustle of students around her. Until one of them crashed into her and icy cold swept across her front.

“Oh my god! Marinette!” Rose’s shrill voice punctuated her shock. “I’m so sorry!”

“Marinette!” another voice crooned mockingly. “Finally found a fashion statement that suits your personality, I see!”

“Shut up, Chloé!” Alya barked already at her friend’s side, trying to help wring out the dark liquid from Marinette’s original shirt.

Marinette crumpled like paper on the spot. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, her throat closed up, and her chest felt tight.  

Rose squeezed her hand, as tears sprang to her blue eyes. “Marinette,” she sobbed. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. I was just running to meet Juleka. It was an accident. Please forgive me.”

Marinette squeezed Rose’s hand in return. “I-it’s okay, Rose. I-I know it was an accident. Today… today, has just…” and she choked on the words.

“Ladies!” Damocles’ voice barked across the courtyard. “Get to class!”

“But sir!” Alya objected. “Marinette needs to get cleaned up.”

The principal eyed the three girls. “Marinette is fully capable of cleaning herself up in the restroom. You and Rose need to get to class.”

Her friends glared daggers at the principal’s disapproving frown, but eventually shouldered their bags, and turned towards class with sympathetic smiles and slumped shoulders

Suddenly, Marinette stood alone in the courtyard in her sopping wet blouse. She blinked her eyes furiously, beating back the tears that threatened to fall. When she could breathe easily again through the lump in her throat she picked up her bag, and made her way slowly to the bathroom.

But within the privacy of the tiny girl’s bathroom, her emotions caught up with her again, and was soon weeping softly as she tried unsuccessfully to dab the coffee out of her pale pink shirt.

How much was too much, before a girl couldn’t take it anymore?

She fought against the thought, and forced her breathing to slow until she could dam up the flow of tears. She could do this.

She was Ladybug.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Alya: Hey girl. I just received a slip to leave for a dentist appointment. I have to go. Are you going to be okay?

The words blurred for a second, before Marinette stubbornly wiped her eyes, and recentered her breathing all over again. Of course, she would be okay.

She was Ladybug.

She typed back a quick response assuring Alya that she would manage.  

After she finished rinsing her shirt the best she could, and using a hand dryer to get it down to damp rather than soaking, she returned to class.

Marinette ducked under the teacher’s disapproving gaze, and scrambled to her seat.

History proved to be particularly dreary that day. The teacher was just droning on and on. She would have had difficulty enough paying attention on a normal day. As it was, Marinette’s emotional reserves were shot and with Alya gone for her appointment, and Adrien absent for who knew what, there was nothing there to distract her. Soon, she caught herself nodding off.

“Marinette!” Her teacher’s sudden unexpected voice tore her from her unsanctioned nap. “If you stay awake in class, you might actually score higher than a D on the next exam.”

And that was the straw she could not handle. Tears burst from her in uncontrolled torrents. Right in the middle of class. Consoling and judgemental comments alike had poured in around her.

She didn’t wait for the teacher to call the class back to order. Instead, she bolted for the exit.

She had thought she could soothe herself in the privacy of the empty hallway, but instead she had found herself on the ground, backed into a corner on her butt, face to face with an akuma.  

It honestly was almost pretty. Electric violet sparkled across the butterfly’s black fluttering wings.

Some part of her wanted to reach out and touch it.

Because Marinette was sick of crying, tired of being the bigger person, and far too aware that her thin shoulders could not bear the weight of protecting an entire city from a terrorist indefinitely.

She had no fall back position. She was it! A sixteen year old girl. Who thought that was a good idea?

If she was going to lose someday anyway, why not today?

Tikki’s bulbous form flew into her face and took up her entire field of vision.

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to breathe,” she added gently.

Marinette nodded, trying to follow those directions.

Because she couldn’t be akumatized. No one would know Ladybug was out of commission. No one could bring out extra allies from the miracle box.

But her throat was tight and her chest felt hollow and she just wanted to curl up on herself and cry.

Chat Noir would have to face her alone.

The butterfly melted into her earrings. She felt them grow hot, but she couldn’t move as the electric violet flooded her vision.

Hello, Lady Liberty.

His voice was cold, but booming. It seemed to scream from inside her own head. Her hands clutched either side of her face.

“Marinette!” Tikki yelled, but Marinette had to strain to hear her.

You bear a heavy load. Let me ease your burden by allowing you to let it all go. You can be free.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks. Marinette wanted to let go. She wanted to be free.

But Tikki was still screaming, and Marinette knew her kwami was the one she ought to be listening to. “Don’t fight your feelings! If you fight them, they double down. Try to accept them. Forgive yourself, Marinette. Have patience and compassion for yourself. Please! Can you do that?”

Marinette nodded, but who was she nodding to? She didn’t know.

I grant you the power to free everyone from the burdens they carry.

Marinette nodded again.

“Think of something that makes you feel safe and loved,” the other voice interrupted urgently. “Something that makes you have hope! Go to that place on your mind, Marinette.”

Her mind instantly flooded with visions of her partner.

Being tangled up with him in the string of her yoyo the first time they met. He hadn’t been upset. He hadn’t doubted her ability. He had been excited and wanted to know her name.

Him diving in front of her to take a hit only to instantly fade from existence. But he had smiled, just for a moment. Like he had died happy knowing he had protected her.

His infuriating smirk every time he managed to pull off a stupid joke at a ridiculous time or one up her in some ridiculous competition.

He gave her advice - patient and heartfelt - even when she was asking for advice about confessing to another boy.

His arms wrapped around her - solid and safe - after her biggest mistake that had cost her a mentor. His faith and trust in her had never waivered.

And suddenly, she was laughing through her tears.

She was in love with Chat Noir.

When had that even happened?

It didn’t matter, but the revelation made one thing crystal clear: She couldn’t be akumatized.

That would leave her partner alone.

And she would never do that to him.

Marinette gasped for air as the butterfly broke away. The akuma couldn’t hold her. Not like this, not with the joy that flooded her form at the realization that she could be happy - that she could make her kitty happy.

The winged creature flapped away, and Marinette sagged to her knees. Her bones felt like jelly, but she was giggling hysterically.

The black butterfly flew away. Only once it was out of sight did it occur to her that she should have transformed and purified it.

But she hadn’t been thinking at all, and now Ladybug was going to have to deal with an akuma.

She supposed that was better than Ladybug being the akuma.

Muffled screams pierced the silence, followed by the sound of a classroom door slamming open.

Marinette didn’t move immediately. She remained huddled up on the floor unmotivated to get to her feet. Students evacuated from their rooms - some more orderly than others. Despite the chaos around her, Marinette remained unaffected by it.

Even an explosion rocking the ground beneath her legs still folded underneath her form, was not enough to bring her out of her funk. Paris could wait for five minutes.

“Well, look at you!” Chat Noir’s booming voice echoed from the courtyard. “Aren’t you a regular class act?”

Marinette was running for a safe spot to transform before she had made the conscious decision. While she was willing to make Paris wait, she couldn’t leave her partner fighting for a second longer than necessary.

Not ever.

No matter how done she wanted to be with this day.

“M’lady!” He greeted happily when she landed beside him.

“What’ve we got?”

“Apparently a pop quiz burst this kid’s bubble!” Her partner reported, his green vertical pupils never leaving their adversary. “Apparently he was angling for an A in Geometry.”

She sighed. How mundane. “His teacher is the target?”

“Monsier Fontaine,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Let’s get this over with, kitty.”

The akuma wasn’t particularly dangerous, which wasn’t surprising since she knew he hadn’t been Hawkmoth’s first choice.

But Ladybug was having trouble keeping her head in the game - she was still raw and shaky from too close a call. She stumbled through an easy dodge more than once. But Chat was always there hauling her to her feet or blocking the attack.

Once he had her upright and centered for the fourth time, she wasted no more time waiting for an opening and immediately called for her lucky charm.

A spotted frying pan fell into her hands. She blinked at the pan, her mind remaining stubbornly blank. She had no clue what to do with this!

“What amazing plan will you cook up next?” Chat grinned at her, his baton spinning in his hands blocking another blow.

She looked into his smiling eyes, and everything instantly fell into place. God, he always was exactly what she needed. Of course she had fallen in love with him.

The battle lasted another twenty-two seconds.

But when Chat Noir offered her a fist for their traditional victory fist bump, she knocked it aside and seized him in a hug instead.

He stiffened for a second, but then his tension fell away and his arms encircled protectively around her. “LB? Are you okay? I didn’t think that battle was that hard. I certainly don’t remember dying that time.”

“Shut up!” she whispered into his chest as she clung to him.

His arms tightened around her. “As you wish, M’lady.” His head leaned against her own and she stood there feeling the comfort of his solid warm frame holding her upright. They just stood there for several seconds. Everything was quiet. Then his chest was vibrating. Was he purring?

She hadn’t known he could do that.

She nuzzled her cheek into his chest, closer to the soothing vibration.

“LB, are you okay?” he asked again.

She shook her head. “I just had a really bad day.”

Her earrings beeped in warning, but she remained within his embrace.

He sighed and melted against her. “Who do I need to beat up?” he mumbled.

She giggled. “I’ll text you my list.”

“I’ll take care of it by end of day tomorrow,” he joked, his voice tickling her inner ear.

She knew he was joking, but she grinned anyway. He was always on her side, no questions asked.

“I need to talk to you somewhere private. Where do you think would be safe from prying eyes?”

He pulled away just an inch and searched her face intently. She had no idea what he saw, and she quickly found her gaze falling into her hands, a heated blush creeping out from under her mask.

“Do you remember that café we went to after patrol last week?”

She nodded.

“There’s a deep balcony in the alleyway about three stories up. The building is closed for renovations, but the balcony is untouched.

“Perfect. Go recharge, and meet me there?” She requested.

“See you in ten, M’lady!”

Ladybug launched herself up out of the school’s courtyard and onto Paris’s rooftops. Her earrings beeped again. She ducked behind a chimney, and let the transformation fall. Tikki fell into her hands.

Tikki didn’t take her offered cookie. Instead, the kwami flew up to Marinette’s face and nuzzled her head into Marinette’s cheek. “Are you okay, Marinette?”

Marinette leaned into the affectionate gesture. “I’m exhausted, Tikki. I feel raw and numb. But not as upset. Thank you, by the way. I would not have survived that without you.”

“I’m always happy to support you. I am sad that it was necessary today.”

Marinette stroked the top of her kwami’s head. “I’m going to tell him who I am.”

To her relief, Tikki didn’t object. Instead, the kwami nodded. “I understand. But if you’re emotionally done for today, just know you don’t have to talk to Chat Noir right this second. It can wait until tomorrow or next patrol.”

Marinette shook her head. “Today proved that not telling him is a potentially huge risk. I am not going to sleep again until I fix it. And plus, he deserves to know. He’s wanted to know for so long.” She trailed off for a moment as her feelings caught up with her all over again. “He’s going to be so happy,” she whispered, a tear slipped down her cheek even as she giggled.

“You love him?” Tikki asked with a soft smile.

“I don’t even know when it happened!” Marinette exclaimed. “And that stupid cat is never going to let me live it down,” she grumbled.

Tikki did a happy little dance in the air. “I’m happy for you, Marinette. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you, Tikki. Now, let’s go.”

Tikki inhaled the cookie in two gulps. Marientte called for her transformation and launched herself into the skyline once again, her heart light even if butterflies fluttered in her stomach with nervous energy.

She arrived at their meeting place. He was already there sitting in a lotus position frowning into space. His expression brightened when he caught sight of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked for the third time, his eyes shining with concern.

And she found herself lost in his gaze - sincere and yet, incredibly open. How had she ever turned this boy down?

“I…” she trailed off, unable to find words. She just needed to say it. Why was she hesitating? This was going to make everything easier and he would be thrilled, wouldn’t he? He had always wanted to know.

But he hadn’t asked in a long time. Maybe he had moved on. Like she had asked him to.

She shook her head at herself. It didn’t matter. She had been akumatized. This wasn’t about what either of them felt. Not telling him was putting millions in danger every single day.

She found herself smiling.

“M’lady?”

She dropped down next to him, deep into the private balcony with walls on three sides. The balcony wasn’t designed to have a view. She suspected its function was just to allow the inhabitants to be outside.

“Tikki, spots off,” she whispered.

“Woah! What are you doing?” he demanded, turning his head away.

That wouldn’t do. She took his face gently between her hands. He didn’t resist as her skin tight suit peeled away in a ripple of pink light.

He just stared at her, his eyes wide in shock. “M-Marinette? But… I saw you… and L-ladybug.”

“Fox miraculous,” she explained.

“Ah,” was all he managed to say, his beautiful green eyes wide with shock.

“I-is this okay?” she asked.

He blinked at her dumbly. “Uh, y-yes, of course it is, m’lady! More than okay! Just completely unexpected.”

“You don’t have to reciprocate,” she told him.

He blanched. “Are you kidding me?! Plagg, cla-”

She pinched his lips closed with her bare hands. “No! Wait! Let’s talk first. You can reveal yourself after if you still want to.”

“But I…” he objected, his body tense and unmoving.

She covered his mouth again. “Please?”

He sagged against her hold. She didn’t remove her hand until he nodded. “Whatever you need, M’lady Princess.”

Every muscle in her body loosened at the new combined affectionate nickname. Princess. She was his princess. And his lady.

“Tikki?” Marinette called.

The kwami nodded.

“Spots on.” And she let her magical energies wrap her once again in its protective warmth.

Chat’s eyes were as wide as canyons as he watched her display. “Wow! That was… amazing. Your transformation is like a dance. You’re so graceful. I mean… I knew that, but this is just like the epitome of...”

She covered her face with her gloved hands, trying to cover the heat she felt growing from the bottom of her mask. “Please, stop,” she begged. How was she ever going to tell this boy what she needed to when he kept sending her thoughts and feelings scrambling in a million different directions with gushing praise?

He grinned. “I can’t help it,” he objected. “You’re so amazing. I mean... I already knew that, but now…” he trailed off and really looked at her. “I’ve suspected you more than once. I just…  But after kwami buster, I assumed it was just wishful thinking.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wanted me to be her?”

He barked a laugh. “You have no idea.”

Her blush bloomed from her cheeks to the very tips of her ears. But she didn’t know what to say, and the silence stretched between them.

“So… uh…” his hand rubbed the back of his neck. “What changed your mind?”

She wrapped her arms around her stomach in an attempt to soothe herself - to assure herself that she hadn’t truly become an akuma. She hadn’t betrayed her duty or her partner in that low moment. “I just... I need you to know.” It was all she managed to say before her throat seemed to snap closed, choking off everything else she needed to say.

“It must’ve been some bad day to convince you to go against the prime directive of superheroing,” he offered, his voice gentle and soft.

And she laughed, but within seconds her mirth transformed into tears and she was finally crying, the sobs tearing through her.

His arms instantly wrapped around her. And she fell into his embrace and just let herself cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here,” he soothed, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back.

And she cried herself out. It was a good cry. A release of not just the day, but also of all the tension and stress she had carried for weeks, or maybe years, with no place to unburden herself.

Until today.

“What happened?” he asked when her cries had finally faded.

The question was thrilling. Amazing even because it occurred to her that for the first time since taking up the mantle of Ladybug, for the first time in years, she didn’t have to filter anything.

“It’s stupid really. Just a bunch of little things that all added up.” And she told him all of it. About the nightmares, and she’d tell him about the reality of Chat Blanc soon. But for now, she stayed focused on the day. She spoke of her ruined fabric, her feelings that mishap had triggered about being Ladybug and the Guardian, about her blouse getting ruined, about her friends not being there in class, and her stupid stupid teachers wo just didn’t understand that homework could never be her top priority. “And I could have handled all of it, I swear! It’s just so hard on top of all of this. The akuma was the last straw.”

“Akumas do have the worst timing,” he commented.

She sighed. He didn’t realize that she didn’t mean the monster they just fought, but the raw little black butterfly.

“It was meant for me,” she admitted softly. “It actually succeeded in melding with my earrings.”

He turned rigid underneath her, suddenly as frozen as an ice sculpture.

Her grip around him tightened. “And you know what I was most angry about, Chaton?” she continued, determined to get all of it out. “I wasn’t angry at Papillion. Not really. I was just upset that I couldn’t let myself be akumatized. I’m the only person in Paris who isn’t allowed to just say “fuck it” and let the butterfly take me. The only person who isn’t allowed to have a bad day. I want to be able to have a bad day!”

“I want to be able to let myself be akumatized, and just be able to trust that Ladybug and Chat Noir will take care of it. Why don’t I get that?”

She pulled back just enough to see his face, and she was horrified to see the tear tracks down his cheeks.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”

His eyes landed on hers. “Whatever for?” he demanded.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she admitted, brushing his tears away with her thumb. “I’m sorry that I’m so pathetic. That I wasn’t strong enough.”

He pulled back, and turned her so they were looking right at one another eye to eye. He had a hand on either one of her shoulders. She felt like he was staring directly into her soul, but she couldn’t look away. She had never once seen him so serious.

“Buginette, I need you to hear me right now,” he paused as if expecting her to object. When she didn’t, he continued. “You are the strongest person I know. From what you said, I gather that you were able to throw off an akuma after it had gotten you.”

She nodded confirmation.

“I’ve never known anyone to do that. I didn’t know it was possible. Maybe someone has done it before. I guess I wouldn’t have a way of knowing, but… I guess what I’m saying is that you’re not pathetic. Not even close. You’re so strong, and incredibly resilient. And I don’t know how you’ve done everything you do as Ladybug and as Marinette for so long.”

His eyes bored into hers, never once did he look away.

“And you’re allowed to be human, Buginette. And this feels weird to say, but I want you to be able to have a bad day, too.”

She laughed. And he smiled in response, touching his forehead to hers. His compelling green eyes filled up her whole vision.

“I’m sorry that you’ve felt so alone in holding the mantle of Ladybug. I’m sorry that I haven’t been here in the way that you needed.”

She shook her head. “That’s not true! You’ve always been here. You’ve always given me what I needed even when I didn’t realize. And me feeling alone was more my fault than yours,” she insisted. “I’m the one that insisted on keeping our identities secret. I thought it was too dangerous to share our identities.”

She pressed her lips together in thought.

“But when I was facing that akuma, I realized that not sharing is dangerous, too. That I’ve been keeping all my secrets in one basket. And while that makes them harder to lose, it also makes me more vulnerable. If I hadn't been able to fight off that akuma, you wouldn’t have had any back up and you wouldn’t have known that Ladybug wasn’t coming.”

“You’d likely be an absolutely terrible akuma,” he commented. “I mean, you kick ass without anything boosting your skills. I’m going to have nightmares about akumanette now.” His tone was light.

She stuck her tongue out at his teasing. He smirked.

She allowed the moment of silliness before growing solemn and serious once again. “Master Fu kept all his secrets in one basket and kept himself hidden for over a century. He told one person - me. And less than two years went by, and all it took was one stupid thoughtless mistake on my part and it all came toppling down!”

Chat squeezed her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s also easier for him to stay hidden and keep secrets when there aren’t akumas out terrorizing the street every other day!”

“And I don’t even know how to do this as well as him,” she continued to rant as if he hadn’t spoken. “And I am falling apart, Chaton.” she broke into soft sobs again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “I’m right here. And now that I know who you are, I’m going to be so present and so supportive you’re going to wish that you had never revealed your identity!”

She traced the curve of his jawline with two fingers. “In this moment, I really don’t think I’m going to regret any of this.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “For?”

“For trusting me. I promise I will do everything in my power to protect you, your secret, and by extension, your loved ones.”

She nuzzled further into him, her head resting on his collar bone. She didn’t want to be caught crying again.

“I don’t know if I’m worth your devotion, Chaton,” she whispered.

His arms tightened around her waist. “Shhh! Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

The tears flowed before she could stop them. “I-I don’t know how… to be the Guardian,” she confessed.

He only smiled. “You didn’t know how to be Ladybug at first either. You rose to that challenge beautifully.”

Her lips twisted into a displeased frown. “Only because I had such an amazing partner,” she said emphatically.

“I only have ever followed your example,” he told her. “You taught me to be a hero.”

She laughed. This boy. He never stopped. “God, I love you.”

Chat Noir looked like she had clubbed him with a two by four. His eyes were overblown, and his mouth open in a little ‘o’ of surprise.

She bit her lip, trying to assess his reaction because for once in his life he was being infuriatingly silent. “I meant it. It wasn’t just a slip. I actually love you.”

He blinked at her, unmoving.

“P-please say something,” she begged.

“I… uh…”

She wilted at his hesitation. “I thought you’d be happy…”

He pulled her against his form, tucking her head under his chin. “Trust me, Bugaboo, I am over the moon! I’m not sure that this day could get any better honestly. I’m just also in shock and more than a bit confused.”

She relaxed into his embrace, melting at how natural it felt to be held in his arms.

“Since when do you love me?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a gentle breeze.

“I think it’s been a while now, but I realized it just today,” she confided into his chest.

“How?”

“When we saw the akuma, Tikki told me to go to my happy place and I thought of you,” she sat up and looked up at him then. “You’re the only place anymore I feel safe and completely understood. And I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.”

“What about your friends?” he whispered, his eyes swirling with an emotion she could not label.

“They’re great. But they can’t understand... and it’s not like I can explain it to them.”

“What about the boy you love?”

“I had to let him go.”

“Why?”

She leaned up against him once again, her gaze falling to their feet. “I couldn’t share all myself with him. And he doesn’t need all my baggage. Plus, I think I already missed my chance. He’s in love with someone else.”

She could hear his frown. “How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“He told you he was in love with someone else,” he repeated, the disbelief clear in his voice.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I find it hard to believe that he could love anyone else when he knows you.”

She rolled her eyes. “He told me that the girl he loved didn’t like his jokes, and since I was sitting right next to him in his fancy limo car when he said it, I knew he wasn’t talking about me.”

He went rigid underneath her. She jerked up, and searched his face. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” he said, turning his gaze away.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

He gaze swung back to her, his cheeks burning in the most beautiful pink. “I just find it impossible that he wasn’t talking about you.”

She gave him a flat look. “He definitely wasn’t talking about me.”

Chat’s gloved hands cupped both sides of her face. “He was actually.”

She was lost in his intense gaze.

“He just didn’t know it was you,” he whispered.

She stared at him for several seconds, but she shook herself and pulled away. “How would you know? You weren’t there!” she objected.

His claws scratched at the back of his neck. Her eyes zeroed in on the action. It was familiar.

“I know you don’t believe me, but It’s true. He was talking about you,” he insisted, looking right over at her. “You never have liked my jokes.”

“That’s not true! It’s not the jokes that suck!” she objected. “Though they are a bit lame,” she tacked on softly. “But it’s the timing! Your timing sucks!”

And then her expression faded. Her eyebrows scrunched towards each other under the pressure of the mask. “Wait, a second. I have never liked your jokes?”

“Well, you definitely didn’t like it when I pretended to be a wax model.”

She felt her face go slack, her eyes overblown and gaping. “A-Adrien?” she whispered.

“Hi?” He gave her a self conscious little smile.

“H-hi,” she managed back, her voice too high.

His whole face lit up in understanding. “Oh my god! You always stuttered around me because you liked me?”

Her cheeks burned hot.

“I was convinced forever that you didn’t like me at all, or that I was intimidating somehow for being a fashion icon,” he rambled.

“You were intimidating,” she broke in. “You were so kind and genuine. And just… incredibly patient. I liked you so much. I was terrified of messing things up. Which I did constantly, because I am such a spaz.”

His whole form softened, and he offered her the smallest most sincere smile and she gasped. Seriously, how had she never recognized him before this.

His hand slowly moved towards hers and he wove their fingers together, before touching his forehead to hers ever so gently. “Nothing has ever been messed up. You have always amazed me on both sides of the mask. I fell in love with Ladybug when she stood up to Hawkmoth on our first day on the job. I love the way her brain works and how her creative genius can find victory when she has almost nothing to work with.”

“And I’ve always admired Marinette for the way she goes out of the way to make everyone feel welcome - even stray cats that land on her balcony, the way she expects others to do the right thing, and the way she stands up when someone else doesn’t live up to those ideals. I love when her eyes get so big when she’s nervous and I positively love the moments when she trips over her own feet.”

She smacked him playfully, heat blazing from her neck to her ears. “Shut up! You do not!”

He laughed. “I do though! It gives me an excuse to touch her.”

She went still, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Every time you trip, I get to catch you or offer you a hand to get back up. I love those moments, Marinette. I’ve always cherished them.”

“Really?” She asked, her voice small, her eyes filling with emotion she could not define.

“Really,” he assured.

She moved before she thought about it. She literally threw herself at him, and he barely caught her; he was so startled. But he did catch her. Because he always caught her. And that made it really easy to kiss him.

Her lips pressed against his. And she took satisfaction from the fact that he took him a second to react, that she had managed to catch him off guard.

But then he did respond and she didn’t have the space for thought.

His hands cupped the base of her skull, cradling her whole head. His claws gently kneaded into her hair, sending tingles shooting down her neck and all the way down her spine. And his lips - they were so soft. As soft as a baby’s newborn skin. He gently sucked in on her lower lip causing her to gasp. They were sharing the same breath. His tongue tentatively brushed past her lips and she met it with her own.

Unfortunately, she eventually needed to breathe again.

“I love you,” she gasped against his mouth as she pulled away.

He smirked. “I told you that you’d fall for me eventually.”

She shoved him playfully away when he cackled happily. But she was laughing too.

“What am I going to do with you?” she demanded.

He pulled her against him again, and kissed her chastely. “Love me forever, I hope.” And then his expression grew serious. “Because I love you, Mari. I have since the day I met you.”

She grinned and traced the side of his face with a knuckle. “Forever doesn’t sound so bad,” she admitted before kissing him again.

And it really didn’t.

Even if he never let her hear the end of the fact that she had finally fallen for him despite her denials. Even if she had to put up with puns at the worst possible times. Even if he insisted on taking blow after blow for her.

If she was being honest, she didn’t want to hear the end of it. She wanted him to tease her for forever and a day. She wanted to hear his stupid jokes. And she wanted to fight with him at her side.

Because that was who he was. And she loved him.

[ducktracy]

187. daffy duck & egghead (1938)

release date: january 1st, 1938

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (daffy, turtle, duck), danny webb (egghead)

starting off the new year with a bang—the first cartoon of 1938 is one of my favorites! two tex avery creations, daffy and egghead, make their second appearances paired together.

both characters have gotten a makeover, though egghead’s is more drastic: he now has hair and talks in a dopey drawl courtesy of danny webb. daffy, on the other hand, now has blue irises and a matching ring around his neck—this design would be exclusive to this short only. but, it IS the first cartoon to pen him as daffy duck! he’d appear in a number of looney tunes shorts with porky as the year would go on.

like so many other “hunter vs prey” shorts, egghead is determined to hunt daffy. daffy, however, is prepared to do everything in his power to make egghead miserable.

ben hardaway, who would have been directing his own cartoons at the time of this cartoon’s release, is the writer, and it shows throughout. ben is notable for his more hayseed sense of humor, relying on puns so corny you’ll be flossing your teeth for a week to remove the kernels. his punny touch is noticeable right at the start, with daffy and egghead bursting out of literal nutshells in an odd little introductory sequence. irv spence does some nice animation here: daffy shakes his fists in the glory, soon to be interrupted by the fire of egghead’s gun. egghead chases after a HOOHOOing daffy, the smoke from the gun spelling out to the audience “DUCK SEASON STARTS TODAY”.

the scene is odd, but more so out of uniqueness rather than perplexity. one wonders how tex really would have prefaced the cartoon if he were paired with another writer instead.

in a tradition that would carry out into tex’s MGM days, one of our first impressions of the short is a facetious disclaimer:

a sense of tranquility is established through a soft, sweeping rendition of “morning song” from the william tell overture. various gorgeously painted backgrounds fade into each other to convey the passage of time and rise of the sun, each background absolutely stunning in its own right. in a tex avery cartoon, such peace and harmony can only mean one thing: chaos is soon to follow.

our eponymous hunter creeps onto the screen, remarking aloud on the eerie stillness of his surroundings. “i wonder if there are any more hunters out here this morning.” right on cue, a swarm of hunters pop out of the reeds, reciting a popular catchphrase from the ken murray show reused in many a ‘30s WB cartoon: “whoooooooooa, yeaaaaah!”

the sound of quacks ring out from the recesses of the reeds, turning egghead on the alert. just as he prepares to hunt his prey, a signature avery gag of epic proportions interrupts the scene... literally. 

tedd pierce’s silhouette darkens the screen as he makes his way to his movie seat--a latecomer. egghead spots him and urges him to sit down and not scare away his prey. the latecomer does so, only to rise up again and change seats. our frustrated sportsman urges the silhouette to sit down again, which he does so. the silhouette never utters a word, and that’s the best part. the matter of fact delivery of the gag, the control of it all is what makes the gag so funny. such even temperament from the silhouette juxtaposes starkly with the wild nature of avery cartoons. the normal is now the ridiculous. 

when the silhouette snoops around for a better seat once more, egghead loses all patience and fires his gun straight at the silhouette. tedd pierce’s theatrics are hilarious--he twirls around, clutching his heart, hamming up his injury to the last drop. the anticipatory drum-roll as egghead looks on brings the entire act together. finally, pierce collapses, much to the contentment of egghead. he merely rubs the dust off his hands in a job well done and continues where he left off.

cartoon characters shooting audience members isn’t an alien move in warner bros. cartoons (bugs in rhapsody rabbit, daffy in the ducksters), yet the inclusion of the silhouette and its subsequent dramatics brings a new level of inclusion with the audience. imagine what an uproar this would get in a packed house! it’s a great way to break the barrier between cartoon characters and the audience. WB did a great job of making the audience feel included. hell, a majority of daffy’s character throughout the ‘40s hinges on this! but that’s an analysis for another time.

speaking of daffy, he’s the perpetrator of those quacking sounds in the reeds. egghead parts the plants to see if his prey is still there. he is—daffy gives him a viscious bite on egghead’s bulbous nose before going back into hiding.

“that duck’s craaaa-zy!” daffy pops his head out of the reeds again, shrieking a reply of “you tellin’ me? WOO WOO WOOHOO!”

daffy’s voice is significantly more shrill than his dopey guffaws in porky’s duck hunt. in fact, it’s so shrill that this could easily be considered one of his most annoying cartoons. though his 100% screwy, totally out of his mind personality isn’t my favorite personality for him, it’s still pretty damn great! so if you like obnoxious daffy (like me), this is a short for you. if you can’t stand him being a lunatic, stay away!

with that, daffy takes an exit, whooping and shrieking all the way in a direct throwback to his ecstatic exit in porky’s duck hunt. this is a game-changer for the merrie melodies series—the screwy, lunatic antics were typically reserved for the black and white looney tunes shorts. and here we have daffy, splitting the ears of his patrons and being a royal nuisance in the more expensive, esteemed merrie melodies, typically reserved for song and dance numbers! this ain’t your mother’s merry melody.

when daffy takes refuge within a cluster of reeds positioned in the middle of the lake, egghead uses this as an opportunity to lure out his prey with a decoy. specifically, ONE LOVE-LURE DUCK DECOY.

egghead sends the obnoxiously feminine duck decoy out into the water, quacking in time to the beat of stalling’s “the lady in red” underscore. the decoy disappears into the reeds, and there’s a pause.

a flurry of aggravated, warbled quacking cues us in that daffy is pissed off. the action is all hidden behind the plants, leaving details of their altercation is up to the audience’s interpretation. what we do see is daffy’s physical anger: he pops out of the water at the bank of the lake, throwing the decoy down at egghead’s feet. a makeshift sign cleverly held up by a cattail echoes a beloved catchphrase from the radio show fibber mcgee and molly:

bubbles rippling on the surface indicate daffy’s presence. he pokes his head out to heave a teasing quack at the befuddled hunter before dipping back down again, prompting egghead to stick his rifle in the lake. cue a tried and true gag that was likely much funnier then than now: the ol’ tie-the-gun-into-a-bow trick. 

the next gag is one that tex avery would refurbish in his MGM debut, the early bird dood it!: egghead physically lifts the lake up like a blanket, where daffy appears just in time to give his nose another honk for good measure. cue crazed laughter and intricate water aerobics. daffy halts, addressing the audience directly with a flimsy reassurance: “i’m not crazy, i just don’t give a darn!”

irv spence takes the next showdown between hunter and duck. look at how much more appealing egghead is in his hands! egghead leans down to retrieve his gun he tosses aside, when daffy zooms into frame and fights him for it. daffy’s consistent smile as he and egghead battle for dominance, both trying to reach higher and higher on the gun, is hysterical—he’s absolutely getting a kick out of egghead’s frustration. though it was clear he was reveling in porky’s own anger in porky’s duck hunt, here his enjoyment is much more blatant. he loves being a pest.

daffy slides the rifle beneath his legs and out of sight, bopping egghead on the fist and causing him to slug a haymaker against his own head. signature irv spence grawlixes add a nice level of two dimensional graphic design, like something straight from a comic.

out of nowhere, a random turtle disrupts the altercation. the turtle is a parody of parkykarkus from the chase & sanborn hour, speaking in a thick accent and slightly butchered grammar. he opts to settle daffy and egghead’s fight once and for all, posing as a referee. “just a minute, chums. just a minute!” he supplies the two with pistols, both fitted for their respective sizes. to daffy, “turn around.” to egghead: “now you turn around.”

i love how daffy’s curiosity with the turtle’s interruption is noticeable. so noticeable, in fact, that the turtle grows hostile, getting up in his face and shouting “KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLES BUSINESS, AIN’T IT!” it’s rare to see daffy lacking control of the situation, even this early on. 

the two put their backs together per the turtle’s command, walking ten paces backwards in time to the turtle’s countdown. just as the turtle reaches ten, daffy jumps behind egghead, who fires. a potentially gruesome conclusion is avoided as the bullet hits the turtle’s chest instead, causing his head to rocket upward, hit a branch, and shrink back into his shell. in a hardawayian touch, daffy hands egghead a cigar, walking off screen, satisfied.

random as the scene is (hardaway’s influence seems to be particularly strong throughout this whole middle section), irv spence’s timing and appealing animation makes up for it. the switch to another animator entails an inevitable downgrade in draftsmanship.

after egghead realizes he’s been duped, he retrieves his rifle and prepares to shoot daffy. though initially startled, daffy thinks on his feet, and eagerly places an apple on his head for egghead to aim at instead. stalling’s fitting accompaniment of “william tell overture” raises in key each time egghead fires (and subsequently misses), a pattern that sounds almost identical to scott bradley’s scores under the direction of tex at MGM. 

egghead shoots a tree, the lake, a barn, and even straight past daffy, who grows increasingly irritated at the hunter’s incompetence, moving closer to him with each effort. hardaway’s influence is strong with the next gag, matched with tex’s fast pace to prevent it from overstaying its welcome: daffy thrusts pencils, sunglasses, and a sign that says BLIND on it before turning to the audience and tssking. “too bad. too bad!” harsh indeed. i imagine this gag would have been prolonged had hardaway directed this cartoon or wrote it under another director.

if anything, this cartoon certainly displays the importance of the relationship between director and writer. writers have a much bigger influence on the cartoon than one might believe! there’s a reason as to why chuck jones and mike maltese are touted around as a dynamic duo. i wouldn’t call hardaway a bad writer by any means, but his influence is certainly potent. tex is a strong director, and thankfully he could cushion the blows of hardaway’s corniness as much as he could, but it’s also evident that certain decisions were made that tex wouldn’t have made in other circumstances.

decisions such as daffy singing an entire ode to his lunacy as the cartoon’s song number. this is definitely a hardawayian insert--a prototype, hayseed, screwball bugs bunny sings his own nutty anthem in hardaway’s hare-um scare-um just a year later. full song numbers have been making their way out the door in avery’s cartoons, and by either this year or next they’d be absent in total from the merrie melodies series. it’s unlike avery to write a whole song about characters explaining their nuttiness.

that is why i have qualms with the scene. at his zenith, daffy never attempts to explain or justify his screwiness. even in the mid-’40s, when he’s able to think and speak coherently and isn’t a mere caricature of his name, he showed no self awareness for his condition. the “look at me, ain’t i a crazy one?” jokes with him were out the door by 1939. half the fun with him is how unaware he is of his daffiness--he lives in it constantly, always zipping from emotional extremes, but never stops to tell the audience just how crazy and fun he is. here, his self-awareness seems ingenuine and prideful. daffy is my favorite character for his humanity and relatability (even--if not more so--when he’s a total loon). here, he lacks that dynamism. he’s merely a stock reflection of his namesake.

with that said, daffy’s rendition of “the merry go round broke down” is my favorite merrie melody song number, period. i’m certainly biased due to my undying affinity with daffy, but irv spence’s animation is genuinely fun to watch, and mel blanc does a wonderful performance. i know all of the words by heart! essentially, daffy’s justification for his daffiness is because the dizzy pace of the merry go round went to his head and made him nuts. while this sense of bragging is relatively out of character for him, it makes for a contagiously fun song, and also, this is his second film ever. they still had much to explore. 

the scene concludes with daffy shaking hands with his reflection in the water and diving back in. fade out and in to egghead, still furiously attempting to pursue his prey. cue a fun little avery gag where our hunter nonchalantly opens the reeds he’s hiding behind like a pair of blinds. daffy’s carefree quacking and swimming in the lake almost seems to mock him. in a gag that would be reused in avery’s lucky ducky over at MGM to a greater extent, daffy puts on a mask to scare away the oncoming bullets. indeed, the bullets retreat into egghead’s gun, prompting befuddled stares at both the gun and the audience.

daffy engages in another round of spastic water aerobics, HOOHOOing all the way. he only pauses to cling to a cattail, echoing an averyian daffy catchphrase that he would also shriek in daffy duck in hollywood, “ain’t i some cutie? ahah! i think i’ll do it again! HAHAHA!”

a nice, jazzy score of “bob white (whatcha gonna swing tonight?)” accompanies yet another endeavor by egghead. he’s either stupidly bold or boldly stupid to keep up such a tiring charade--or both! egghead loads a pair of gloves tied to a string into the barrel of the rifle, cleverly using a cattail as a bore brush. and, despite the absurdity of his makeshift fishing pole, it works: one gloved hand grabs daffy by the neck, the other konking him on the head and knocking him unconscious. egghead reels in his prize, dumping daffy into a net and letting out a handful of gleeful “WHOOPEE!”s.

avery’s timing is succinct--immediately after egghead snags his duck, the sound of a siren drowns out his celebration. a duck nearly identical to daffy approaches the scene in an “asylum ambulance”. “gee, t’anks a lot for catchin’ dis goof!” duck confiscates his fellow duck comrade. the decision to turn the conversation confidential, complete with the lowering of the voice and shifty-eyed glances is great. “y’know, we been after dis guy for months!”

despite everything that egghead has endured, he seems genuinely shocked at the duck’s claim that daffy is “100% nuts”. “oh YEAH?” he echoes, daring to believe it. duck nods. “yeeeeah!” with that, he gives egghead a honk right on the nose.

daffy, completely unscathed, wastes little time in joining the festivities as both ducks beat the tar out of egghead from both ends, literally kicking him in the arse and honking him on the nose. both ducks head to the lake, HOOHOOing in shrill unison as they bound off into the horizon. egghead only has one more option... to join them. thus, we iris out on our brave hunter HOOHOOing into the horizon himself.

as i said at the beginning of this review, this cartoon is one of my favorites--for this era, anyway. despite its imperfections, it’s still a rather fun and rousing cartoon. it’s exciting to see daffy becoming more recognizable, in terms of voice,  demeanor, and appearance. the same can be said for egghead as well, though i doubt anyone has the same attachment to him as they do other characters. i certainly don’t.

admittedly, porky’s duck hunt is a more solid cartoon. this cartoon feels much more like a string of gags than anything, though i suppose that could be said for many a tex avery cartoon. he wasn’t known for his moving stories. hardaway’s corny, hayseed sense of humor serves as the biggest detriment to the cartoon, but luckily tex is a strong enough director to try and work around those weaknesses as best he could. and even though i disagree with the reasoning behind the song number, the song number will always be my favorite merry melody song. 

i didn’t mention the backgrounds very often, but they’re STELLAR. the colorful, whimsical palette brings a lot of energy and vitality to the table. if you were to describe the cartoon in one word, “energetic” would certainly be it.

so, with that said, go watch it! this is a really fun cartoon that serves as an interesting look into early daffy’s character, obnoxious as he may be.

link!

[amberskywrites]

Anniversary Gifts

Kiane Week Day 2 - Flowers/Daisy/Sweet Olive

AO3 Link || Masterpost

Fandom / Genre: Nanatsu no Taizai (The Seven Deadly Sins) / Fluff

Pairing: King/Diane

Warnings: None! It’s tooth-rotting fluff ^^ lmk if there is anything I should add though!

Summary: It's King and Diane's anniversary, and by the end King has to admit that Diane's gift to him is much better than what he gave to her. It was a million times better.

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“So,” Diane began, and King looked up from his book curiously. She grinned at him, leaning close on her hands. “Can you please tell me what you’re giving me for our anniversary?”

King snorted as she gave her best puppy eyes.

“I told you already, I want it to be a surprise!”

Diane huffed, crossing her arms and flopping backwards onto Chastiefol. She pouted at her husband, drumming her fingers against her arm. “You’ve been working on it for months, you can’t let me have it just a little bit early?” she asked. King shook his head and Diane grumbled under her breath.

He laughed lightly, closing his book and setting it aside before giving her his full attention. “Do you want a hint?”

Her face brightened, and she nodded eagerly. King suddenly felt a little bad for the hint he was about to give her, however, he did want his gift to her to be a surprise. He really didn’t want to give it away.

“Alright. It has something to do with flowers.”

Diane’s face fell, before it turned slightly annoyed and she threw her hands up. “We are surrounded by flowers! That doesn’t help!” King laughed again, moving to sit beside her on Chastiefol.

“I asked if you wanted a hint, I never said I had to give a helpful one.”

She shot him a glare, though it was only half-heartedly. King took her hand and leaned forward, kissing her cheek, and her face relaxed and her lips formed a smile as a light blush dusted her cheeks.

“I promise it’ll be worth the wait. But we should really get some sleep.”

“Why?”

He started settling down into Chastiefol - he and Diane were monarchs and could sleep on anything, but really Chastiefol was the softest thing in existence and was great for sleeping together if they wanted a good night’s rest - and Diane followed, curling into him. King’s arms wrapped around her and held her close, and he kissed her forehead.

“The earlier it is, the sooner I can give you your gift.”

King felt Diane gasp lightly in delight that she wouldn’t have to wait much longer, before giggling and nodding. “Alright, night then.”

He hummed his reply, only closing his eyes when he felt her breathing even out and could hear her snoring softly.

The next morning, King was awake before Diane. The sun wasn’t up quite yet, still hanging low below the horizon. He smiled down at her sleeping peacefully, sprawled across Chastiefol like she usually was when they woke up. With any luck, she wouldn’t wake up for awhile, giving King enough time to go and check on his gifts (grabbing one of them in the meantime).

He brushed her bangs from her face before kissing her forehead and carefully getting up off the sacred treasure. King threw on some more proper clothes for the day before flying out of the room, heading to a place Diane didn’t know about just yet. Well, she knew about it, but she never had much interest in actually going inside.

Slipping into the room, he noticed just how messy he had made it. King set to cleaning it up before he actually grabbed what he came here for, which was in the center of the room.

The fairy cleaned up quickly before making his way to the center of the room, circling the present he had made and taking note of everything.

King bit one of his nails subconsciously as he inspected his handiwork. The dress wasn’t too short or too long, and he knew it would fit Diane perfectly. He reached out and adjusted some of the fabric, smoothening it down and inspecting that everything would stay in its place no matter what.

The dress was a deep green, fading into a lighter but just as vibrant green the further down. Various shades and hues of orange flowers wove around the waist, forming what looked to be a belt sewn into the garment. The same flower pattern was around the neckline, and a few of the flowers littered the bottom of the dress.

This was only one of the things he was giving to Diane, the other being something that had honestly taken him ages to manage to keep alive. He hoped she’d like both gifts.

King carefully removed the dress of the stand it was on, draping it over one of his arms before leaving to go check on the other gift.

Soon enough, he was in his room again, a basket in hand with some snacks for him and Diane to share in a bit. Diane was still asleep, just as he had expected. He smiled to himself, setting down the basket and the neatly folded dress he had brought in with him. King moved to her side of the bed, where he settled on the edge and reached out to gently shake her awake.

She muttered something under her breath, swatting his hand away and turning over to bury her face in Chastiefol. King huffed, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Diane, it’s time to get up.”

“The sun’s not even up yet,” she complained. Her voice was muffled by Chastiefol, and she hugged the treasure closer to her.

“Well, it can’t be up yet if you want to see your gift.”

Diane shot up at that, looking at him with a mix of confusion and excitement. “Really?”

King nodded, grinning at her. “I technically have two gifts, but the grander one is one we have to go and see sooner rather than later.” He leaned forward to give her another kiss, just a peck on her lips before pulling away and getting off the bed.

“Two gifts? I thought we agreed on just one each?” She watched him walk over to where he had placed something and a basket. King smiled at her sheepishly.

“I couldn’t help myself.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he chuckled, before picking up whatever was next to the basket and handing it to her. Diane looked down at it, a little confused before she unfolded the object and her eyes lit up at the dress.

“Oh, Harlequin!” She was beaming as she ran her fingers over the folds of the dress, tracing the flowers that popped brilliantly. She grabbed her green ribbons - she had ribbons of all different colors so they’d go with everything - for her hair before dashing to the side room to change, kissing King quickly as she passed him.

He didn’t have to wait long for her to come out, fixing one of her ribbons into place and King swore her smile was worth all the times he had poked himself sewing, drawing blood more often than and having to make excuses for why he had to keep bandaging his hands. She did a little twirl, the skirt of the dress fanning out before settling when she stopped.

“I take it you like the dress?”

Diane laughed lightly as she nodded, any sign that she was still tired nonexistent as she made her way over to King and pulled him into a tight embrace. King hugged her just as tightly, placing a light kiss to her temple before he pulled away, remembering they had somewhere to be.

“Alright, off to the other gift I have.”

“Wait, let me grab the one I have for you!” Diane broke away from him completely, going over to her desk and opening one of the drawers. She pulled out a medium-sized box, wrapped neatly in colorful paper with daisies as a pattern. She looped her arm into his, holding the box under her free arm.

“What’s in it?” King asked, peering at the box curiously. Diane grinned.

“I’ll show you after you show me what other gift you have.”

King hummed, stealing another kiss before grabbing the basket and together they left their room, King guiding her down paths Diane knew well. Or at least, that was until he made some vines move away with his abilities and tugged Diane gently down the hidden path she didn’t know even existed.

Their arms dropped away from one another as they approached their destination, but they still held hands, and King squeezed hers ever so slightly as they walked. He felt Diane squeeze back, more confident in the gesture than him and he felt a little more relaxed.

They stopped at another entrance covered by vines, and King held them aside for Diane. Diane ducked under the plants and she looked out over the field that greeted her, King joining her moments later. “Probably a few seconds now,” she heard him mumble. Diane glanced at him to catch him looking up to the sky, where it was slowly turning shades of pink and orange as the sun rose.

“What’s gonna happen in a few seconds?”

He smiled at her before nodding towards the field. She tilted her head before following his gaze, and she watched intently.

Slowly, the first rays of sunlight began to shine upon the little patch of land. The dark green grass was illuminated by golden light, and she was about to ask again what was going on before she noticed what was happening. When she did, she had unintentionally let go of King’s hand.

As more light fell upon the field, the grass changed, flowers seeming to grow instantly and blooming in the morning rays. They were a mix of brilliant colors, from gold and white to deep purple and bright blue and vibrant orange. Soon, the entire field had shifted and Diane realized it wasn’t a field but a meadow, one emanating faint levels of magic. She was grinning at the beautiful display, one hand clutched over her heart as she stared with wide eyes.

“It’s gorgeous…” she breathed, finally tearing her gaze from the flowers to King. He was staring at her the entire time, a lovestruck grin on his face. “Are they…”

“Magical?” he finished, and she nodded. “They are. They’re rare flowers that only bloom in the morning and remain bloomed for a few hours. They’ll close back up again by this afternoon. Merlin helped me make them, and she cast a spell on the flowers so you could walk on them without crushing them.”

Diane whistled lightly, turning back to the flowers, impressed. “They’re yours, too.”

She swiftly looked at him again, eyes widening once more. “Really?” King nodded, and Diane wrapped her free arm around him, pulling him to her abruptly. King laughed and returned the embrace just as quickly as he did earlier.

When Diane pulled away, she was still beaming, and she held out the box for him. “I don’t think it will top being given a meadow filled with magical flowers,” she said as he took the box, “but I hope you like it.”

He placed the picnic basket he had with him on the ground as he got a better grip on the present, feeling how it was slightly heavy.

“I’d love anything you give me,” he stated. It was the truth after all, but Diane shushed him and told him to open his gift.

King unwrapped it carefully and easily, finding a wooden box under the paper with a simple lid. Diane had her hands folded over her mouth, watching for his reaction. King took the lid and put it under the box, pulling out what was inside. His eyes widened at the little stone sculpture he took out.

It was of him and Diane, sitting close together like they usually did when King would take Diane out for flights on Chastiefol sometimes. Except in the sculpture, they were holding something. When he looked closer, he was able to tell what it was instantly, and he could feel the smile tugging at his lips. He looked away from the little baby the stone versions of them were holding and up to Diane.

“Wait, are you actually-”

She nodded, smiling nervously behind her hands and her eyes looked glossy. King could feel his own eyes welling up with tears as he set the sculpture back into the box, placing it carefully on the ground before almost launching himself at Diane.

Diane laughed as she caught him, feeling how his arms tightened around her and she buried her face in his shoulder. He sniffled, laughing at his own tears as he held Diane close and kissed her temple, processing it.

She was pregnant.

“Best anniversary gift ever,” he mumbles as he pulls away just enough to kiss her lips. She giggles, tears slipping down her cheeks and he reaches to wipe them away, ignoring his own tears of joy.