#baby's first web weave please be kind

[skitskatdacat63]

"The Boy With The Thorn in His Side"(x) - The Smiths × 2023 Strollonso moments + pundits' reactions

[differentavenue]

Dark and Steamy Nights W/ Spider-Man

Any!Spider-Man x Afab!reader

Summary: The nights with Spider-Man.

Warnings: SMUT, oral (m to f) ,Fluff

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You only knew Spider-Man in the dark evenings. He only came around when you were alone and vulnerable, like he has some sickly sweet fetish of having the power over you and maybe… some submissive side of you likes it.

“You do keep your window open for a reason, don’cha pretty girl?” He says when you bring up the fact. The young silken voice can be condescending, like he doesn’t like doing the things he does to you, in your very own bed. Or shower. Or balcony.

Doesn’t he like how you taste? When you writhe under his grip, pulling you to the edge of your bed. His fingertips leave marks on your thighs for the next night he’s over. Like his signature on your skin. Then, when he eats like a man starved; sometimes you think he’s just being selfish, taking as much as he can. Though he would take more if he didn’t pity you. “So sweet baby, would do anything to eat you all the time.” His tongue works you through mind shattering orgasms over and over again. The kind that have you gripping the sheets and tangling your fingers in his hair.

He loves how you feel wrapped around him. Especially when he first enters you. The faces you make of tense pleasure mixed with your scent make him feral. When he is fully seated inside you he makes sure to let you adjust; you clench around him and grab any part of him you can. Spider will even web your little hands up, he knows you love it. He’s cocky in that way, he will move slowly, fully pulling out of you before shoving his way back in. “You can take it sweetheart, and you will.” Euphoria washes over the both of you every god damn time he speeds up his thrusts. “Don’t be such a crybaby. You’ve been screaming my name for the past 10 minutes. Take it like a good girl.” And for a split second he will worry he’s gone to far, always making sure you are okay. “You want this? Hmm?” And through your sobs you tell him yes, because he loves when you use your words.

He loves you. He does, but there’s no backing out if he tells you. You would have to know who he is, and he doesn’t need someone hurting you because of him. Then, on those special nights, he makes sure to run you a bath or wipe you off properly. Usually no words are said between the two of you. The feeling of admiration weaves its way in the comfortable air. Once you’re all cleaned up, you are tired from the days events. You always ask him to stay. “I can’t baby. Go to sleep, make sure to dream of me.” He gives a bittersweet kiss, one filled with everything that he wishes he could tell you.

Ave: I desperately need ideas! Please feel free to give me some ;) I do Fluff, Smut, and Angst. As well as any character from any movie or show you can think of. Thanks for reading ❤️

[starryevermore]

🥃 “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.” with peter parker please <3

spidey powers ✧ peter parker

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: 🥃 “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.” with peter parker please <3 - annab-nana

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 497

warnings?: fluff, pet name (baby), not proofread

“Ugh, I fucking hate this,” you groaned, throwing a bobby pin down on the sink counter. You started pulling the small elastic ties from your hair, tossing them in the garbage because they were too stretched out to be used again. After all, you’d already tried redoing this hairstyle at least five times now with the same elastics. 

Peter poked his head into the bathroom, eyebrows knit together in concern. “Everything okay, baby?” he asked. 

“No. My hair’s being stupid and won’t cooperate,” you pouted. 

It felt silly, the way tears were pricking at your eyes. But, you wanted to look nice. You and Peter rarely went out anymore, trying to save up money to buy a place of your own. But you’d gotten a big promotion, and Peter wanted to treat you to a nice dinner at a restaurant Mr. Stark had recommended. So, you wanted to dress up. But your hair refused to do anything you wanted it to.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Peter said. “Could I—I mean—I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want—”

“…Well, I suppose spiders are good at that whole weaving thing, so you might just be able to come up with a decent-looking braid,” you teased. 

“I’m not that kind of spider!” Peter laughed. He stepped out for a moment, returning with a chair so you could sit while he braided your hair. “I don’t even produce my own webs.”

“Yeah, why is that?” you asked, taking your seat in the chair, watching in the mirror as Peter stepped behind you, sectioning off your hair with a rat tail comb. “Didn’t you say one of the Peters from a different universe made his own webs? And there was, like, a little hole in his wrist they shot out of?”

“Blehh, don’t remind me of that,” Peter shuddered. “Great guy, he was, but that web stuff…Gives me nightmares.”

“I’m just curious, how can you be Spider-Man when the only real spider part of you is you’re sticky?”

“I have a spidey-sense!”

“Yeah, but is that an actual spider thing? Or just a different superpower that you’ve decided is a spider-related power because you chose the moniker Spider-Man?” You paused for a moment. “Though…If you, and the other Peter, really had spider powers, wouldn’t your webs come out of your butt? Have you tried that? Maybe you can produce your own webs but—”

“I’m not going to test that!” 

The two of you went back and forth about Peter’s powers until your hair was finished. 

“You know what? I think I was right on the spider-weaving-thing,” you said, admiring the way your hair looked. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “You look gorgeous.”

“All I have done right now is hair and makeup,” you laughed. “I haven’t even got dressed!”

“And yet, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

join my sleepover!

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Nymrius

Rating: NSFW Length: 1546 Pairing: Male Drider x Male Reader (both cis)

Pure filth. *Blows kiss* For the spider lovers out there.

xxx

Hanging upside down from a thread of silk wasn’t the first thing I thought would happen on a weekend evening, but I would be lying if I said it was my first time. This instance was significantly less sexy, however, and I was sure the kind of eating that was planned wasn’t the pleasurable sort. “Getting desperate?” I asked, trying to ignore the pressure of the blood rushing to my head in favour of looking up at my captor.

“Shut up,” said the young drider who was dragging me up into his web, thin arms struggling with my weight. Driders always were on the delicate side, and I was anything but; I’d make a few meals for him yet, I reckoned.

“I might have the right to remain silent, but I lack the capacity,” I said, struggling to get a better view of my soon-to-be-murderer. “Afraid for my life and all. You understand.”

“I said, ‘be quiet’!” the drider snapped, though his voice trembled.

“‘Shut up’, actually,” I quipped, letting out an embarrassing squeak when I was heaved the rest of the way up in one unceremonious yank.

“Are all humans this odious?” the drider muttered, chest heaving almost as much as mine was.

“Only the ones who don’t want to die.”

“Well, neither do I,” the drider quavered, stubbornly beginning to wind me up in his silk. “I’m sorry, but I have to feed.”

“Couldn’t hunt something smaller?”

Acid yellow eyes narrowed in my direction, gleaming in the twilight. “If you must know, no. They were too quick for me.”

“You look much too old to be a helpless spiderling. What’s the matter? New management saw you as a threat?”

The drider bristled, hissing at me. “I should bite you just to silence you.”

“But you won’t,” I reasoned, “because you don’t have the venom for it. You’re not a hunter. You’re a weaver.”

“And just what gave you that idea?”

“You’re wasting your silk on me and crying. You’re no hunter.”

Thin hands scrambled up to wipe beneath the drider’s wide, shimmering eyes, his breaths hiccuping sharply in shock. He scowled at me thunderously, and if he’d had the venom, I’m sure he would have bitten me just as he’d threatened.

“Now what?” I asked, looking up into his face from my odd, twisted angle. “You’ve either got to kill me or wait for me to die. Do you have the stomach for either?”

“I don’t have a choice now, do I?” he waspishly replied, crossing his arms over his lithe chest. “Seeing as ‘management’ saw me as a threat for their precious offspring, I now have to fend for myself.”

“And you’ve up and managed to hunt yourself a hunter,” I laughed, helplessly amused. “Let me free and I’ll hunt you all the food you can fit in that pretty belly.” The drider flushed red at my words, which was both exactly what I was expecting and a pleasant surprise. “Oh, so it wasn’t your weaving that was a threat, but your appetite.”

“Bite your tongue!” hissed the drider, jabbing me painfully with one of his hard, slender legs. “What would you know of my ‘appetite’?”

I coughed the air back into my lungs, grinning widely; perhaps the blood rushing to my head was making me more reckless, or maybe it was my own appetite rearing up for one last hoorah before I was put out to pasture for good. Either way, I found myself saying, “Put your sweet cock in my mouth and find out.”

The drider squeaked. Mortified, no doubt, and by the looks of his shimmying against his webbing, aroused. Of course out of all the driders that could have caught me, I’d been caught by a prim and proper little beast.

“Come on,” I wheedled, going breathless at the prospect of what I was suggesting. “Give a man his dying wish to make a pretty thing like you come in his mouth.”

“Oh, gods,” whispered the drider, hiding his face in his hands as his thorax quivered. “It’s a trick. You’ll bite me.”

“Only if you want me to, sweetheart,” I purred, and delighted in the way he shivered from head to spinneret. “What have you got to lose? I’m dead anyway. I might as well rub myself off against this silk of yours before I go.”

The drider swore, eyeing me venomously and shifting closer with something between wariness and anticipation. “I’ll make your death painful if you hurt me,” he warned, and I nodded as he climbed over me, revealing a silvery-pink prick almost as long as my arm. My mouth watered as he pressed the slender, tapered tip to my lips, slipping my tongue out to taste him and groaning as his slickness coated the inside of my mouth with a gentle bittersweetness. He swore again above me as I took him into my mouth, sucking gently and pushing him against the insides of my cheeks as best I could.

“So good,” I whispered when I came up for air, wriggling my own erection up against my bindings as much as possible. “Look at you, so hard for me. Having me all tied up get to you, pretty boy? Like having the power?”

“Oh, gods, shut up,” the drider groaned, though judging by the way his prick twitched and throbbed, I’d hit the nail right on the head. I slipped my tongue into the little opening at the head of his cock and swirled it about, trying to hide my surprise at the way he cried out and ground down against the roof of my mouth. The next time, I applied a touch of teeth, nibbling at the opening and being rewarded by a healthy spurt of pre over my hungry tongue. We both moaned when I slurped him back into my mouth and lifted my head to have him grind against the back of my throat, his long, slender fingers spearing into my hair as he slid further and deeper into me.

Watching him was a madman’s wet dream. He bit at his fingers to quiet himself and gyrated his hips, rocking himself into my throat and teasing his body with his small, dexterous hands. Figures that I’d find a new passion on my last night on earth, but I was determined to see this whole thing through to the end, whatever end that may be. I redoubled my efforts and relished in his twitches and moans, losing myself to the breathless rhythm of riding him with my throat until he pulled away, leaving a string of pre and saliva joining my lips with his cock.

“What’re you doing?” I slurred, but he didn’t answer, instead moving around me and shifting me around until I was on my front, knees glued to my chest with silk and ass in the air. I twitched when I felt him cut away the silk and fabric of my trousers covering my aforementioned ass, then squeaked in my own right when I felt his cock grinding against my taint and balls. “Easy,” I gasped, cheek stuck to the silk beneath me. “Easy, baby, you haven’t even—“

“Hush,” the drider hissed, pushing insistently against my entrance and making a high noise of triumph when he made his way in, slick and persistent.

“Fuck,” I wheezed, tightening around him reflexively and finding that the intrusion barely bothered me more than my own fingers.

“Oh, I intend to,” the drider purred, pushing into me with tight, shallow thrusts that slicked up my insides and eased more of his dick inside me as he went. It was tapered at the end but broadened considerably as the length trailed on, and it wasn’t long before I was sobbing for mercy beneath my unruly lover. I was going to be gaping if I survived this, and I must have said so, because he laughed above me, grinding his thorax against my back and making me moan pitifully. “I’ve changed my mind about killing you,” he whispered as he fucked me, speaking between my wanton groans and the lewd noises coming from our slippery union.

“You might kill me yet,” I managed to choke out, though my traitorous body was already starting to push back against his cock, greedy for the fullness he offered. “Oh, fuck, at least tell me your name.”

“Nymrius,” he answered, soft and sibilant, and dug his nails into my skin when I echoed it a moment later when he thrust deep into my ass.

“Nymrius,” I said over and again, a prayer and a plea all at once. “Nymrius! Fuck me. Please fuck me. Not going anywhere. I’m yours. Trapped. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nymrius snarled, pistoning his hips into me hard enough to make me see stars, over and over again until I came hard enough that I wasn’t sure he hadn’t bitten me to make my insides liquid in the first place. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that,” he muttered somewhere above me after several moments spent catching our breaths, and I laughed.

“I’ll hunt you a damn bear if that’s what you want. Just don’t stop fucking me tonight.”

The drider sucked his teeth. “Are all humans this obnoxious?”

“Only the ones who want to live.”

[weirdmarioenemies]

IT’S TIME TO TALK ABOUT BUGSNAX

Do you know about Bugsnax? You gotta know about Bugsnax! Everyone’s talkin’ ‘bout Bugsnax! The game that baffled viewers of the PS5 reveal, leading to many sarcastic jokes about it being “game of the year”, and leading so many to convince themselves and others that it MUST be secretly a horror game.

And that’s BOGUS! Even kind of rude, if you ask me. Isn’t it sad how so many simply cannot accept that something so unabashedly silly, so proudly whimsical, can exist without a twist? That the core concept, that the developers put so much passion into, isn’t seen as “enough”, and that it apparently must be a sort of cover-up? I sure think it is. It’s basically the new “were they on DRUGS when they made this”!

Of course, when I saw the reveal of Bugsnax, I knew the truth. That this was like a game tailor-made for me specifically. A creature-collecting game where EVERY single creature is not just food with googly eyes (which, by the way, puts EVERY Bugsnak on my Best Ever Characters List), but EVERY single one is based on some sort of invertebrate! Not a SINGLE collectable creature here that I dislike, or even not like that much!

And as we learned more, the passion only grew! Even the regular characters are funny creatures... there are mysteries to be uncovered... there’s a boatload of LGBT+ representation, even! There’s a non-binary character who’s just as prominent as everyone else, who everyone else effortlessly uses the correct pronouns for! 

At this point, I’ve not only become a quite prominent member of the Bugsnax fandom across the wiki and official Discord server, but I’ve now finally played Bugsnax, and it is my favorite piece of media ever. I am not exaggerating. Please, if you get the chance, play Bugsnax (by Young Horses Games, creators of Octodad, by the way!). I could go on for so long. But this is not a game review, it’s a creature review! And this is not just a Funky Friday. It’s Flavor Friday this week!

So I’m going to be talkin’ ‘bout a bunch of Bugsnax! Both some of the most major ones, as well as some of my top favorites. Each Snak’s name will be a link to a video of all their lovely voice clips! I will not be talking about any plot details, but some Bugsnax discussed will be ones not “officially” revealed at the time of the game’s release, so keep that in mind if it may concerns you!

STRABBY

We will start with Strabby, the first Bugsnak ever seen, as well as, without a doubt, the mascot! And I think it’s perfect for the role. It’s simple, it’s iconic, it’s cute, it’s silly, and I would probably say this about any Bugsnak if it were the mascot, but Strabby is the one with an official plush, so here we are!

Strabby is based on a ladybug, and maybe it doesn’t resemble one THAT much, but I still think it makes sense, as a red little “bug” with seeds resembling spots in a way, and being conventionally charismatic overall.

Also, say hello to Sprout! This baby Strabby in a ball is entrusted to the player to take on their adventure, and can be directed with a laser pointer to access small areas, and help catch other Bugsnax!

BUNGER

Strabby may be the mascot, but Bunger is, without a doubt, the breakout star! All Bugsnax are silly, but Bunger is absolutely goofy. This fast food rhino beetle runs around without a care in the world, saying “bungerbungerbunger”, and gleefully knocking any other creature it sees into next Tuesday. They also knock away any traps in their path, but their recklessness and love for ketchup is key to capturing them!

CINNASNAIL

Strabby and Bunger may be the only ones with dancing gifs (for now), but now we enter my FAVORITES! Starting with Cinnasnail, who is absolutely perfect in every way, and of course my number one favorite. A cinnamon roll snail is even a creature concept I’ve come up with and drawn myself over four years ago, and seeing Bugsnax have the same idea for my favorite creature was really magical! Of all the Bugsnax, Cinnasnail not only has my favorite “bug” basis, but maybe also my favorite snack basis. I do not eat cinnamon rolls very often at all, but they are so splendid. As a snail, it is of course rather easy to catch, but it tends to be JUST out of reach... you will need some way to retrieve the trap before it escapes!

FRYDER

Fryder may be cute like all the others, but it’s also really dang cool! I really love the visual of the ketchup cup being the main body, but also like a sort of obscuring hat. Fryder is based specifically on orb-weaving spiders, and unfortunately its ketchup webs did not make it into the final game, but it still behaves uniquely in that it lurks on cave ceilings until tempted with ketchup to come down!

DR SODIE

Dr Sodie is one of many Sodies throughout the game, all delightful and based on specific canned drinks, but Dr Sodie in particular is my favorite, thanks to its name, implying this Sodie has a medical license. At this point, you may be questioning how this is a snack at all, but Bugsnax are only KINDA bug and KINDA snack! This is 100% edible and 100% Bugsnak, baby! Sodie’s anatomy fascinated me even before I played the game, and hearing it SING made it for sure one of my top favorites! It is also one of the ones I was most confused on the bug basis for, until finding out that Sodies are shrimp! I think they have some of the most interesting behaviors, too. They swim happily around, but unlike most Bugsnax, they HATE sauce of all kind, and spray water to wash it all away! How inconvenient... or is it?

CRAPPLE

a CRAB! a CRABAPPLE! Delightful! It’s a bit hard to see here but yes, it does have eyestalks. Crapple is important to me on a personal level, you see. Every day, I eat an apple with peanut butter for breakfast. And Crapple’s favorite sauce is peanut butter! You can even cover Crapple itself with peanut butter! I can make peanut butter apple IN this game! As if it wasn’t perfect enough. Also wonderful is that Crapple is a curious creature and likes to pick things up and bring them back to its lair!

I really do have a lot to say about Bugsnax. But I think this is a good point to stop at for now, given the length of the post! There will be a part 2 in the future, and this one will probably be soon!

[honesthammie]

4th prompt part 2

The silence was appreciated as your mind wrapped up today's event. You had met your soulmate in a goddess of a woman. Everything you had discovered so far was perfect. You watched as she pulled a metal disk and metal stick from her pockets. The metal stick made a strange buzzing sound and glowed a faint orange at the tip as she hovered over the disk.

"What are you doing?" You asked after watching her in curiosity for a few moments. You would've let her continue as her face was quite the sight. Her eyes were sparkling with intent and her nose had the most adorable scrunch.

She stopped for a moment as you spoke as if thinking on what to say before continuing. "I'm scanning for any spider eggs in the building so we can take them with the other spiders to a planet of their own. A planet without civilisation but full to the brim with creatures they can eat. I think, the fam got them all. No, fam still doesn't seem right. The team does sound better!"

"A planet? What, are you some kind of alien?"

"Yes. Would that be a problem?" She asked. From the way her eyes sparkled, I believed her. Great, no wonder why she seemed so ethereal! So when I say, she's out of this world, it'd be a fact and not a flirtatious comment! For fuck sake, that's one of my best lines as well! Maybe I could use it when the time is right?

"Nope. After the discoveries of my life recently, that's actually the most believable thing. Please don't ask yet. However, those spider babies trust me. You aren't going to get them to listen without me. I spent at least a full 5 hours with them, they trust me more than you. Come on little Miss Sunshine, hop to it, the spiders won't wait forever." I spoke with confidence. I knew she knew, she needed me. That's why she followed me. "I'm (y/n) by the way"

"Great name! Love that name, was always one of my favourites. I've always fancied myself as a (y/n) but the faces never seem to fit it. I'm normally a John but I can't be now I'm a woman. Why don't you give me an alias for when I'm undercover?"

"Hmmm. I quite liked the name Alice and you certainly suit that name. Is there a name people call you when you aren't undercover. What do family call you?"

"Alice. I love that! I'm keeping Smith. Alice Smith. Perfect! Knew you'd be the one to help me. People tend to call me the Doctor. So do I for some reason. Wish I knew why."

This cute blonde alien was more mysterious the more we talked. She told me of how her ship goes in time as well as in space. She told me of the time of when she met Robin Hood with an older face and a companion named Clara. All this talk and I wasn't bothered once by it. I could listen and watch her all day as she talks about adventures she's been on. She puts all the theatrics on and waves her arms about with so much passion and her eyes show her emotions so clearly. But I also saw age. If she's older than she looks, just how old is she? Not that it bothers me, it's just, if she's like hundreds of years old, she's probably had other lovers and I don't know if plain old me can compete with that.

Sooner than we realised, we came towards a blue Police box. She clicked her fingers and waltzed right in. This must be her TARDIS. I walked inside with awe. The ship was beautiful inside. Like a gem hidden as an ore. The golden and blue lights perfectly reflected her personality.

"It's fucking massive Sunshine! Ya didn't warn me about walking into a football field! No wonder why thousands of spiders seemed no problem! Fucking hell!" I stated as my eyes scanned the room in front of me. Then I felt a little tug on my right trouser leg. I looked down and saw a little spider wanting my attention. I bent down and picked him up. He seemed happy to be held like that so I kept him in that position as I wondered towards the Doctor.

I had so many questions I wanted to know and I'm sure she has too. But now was not the time for that. We needed to get these spiders to their new home. I continued to watch the Doctor as she danced around something she called a console. She was pressing buttons and pulling levers and many more things until the ship made a strange wheezing noise and I was thrown off my feet. Thankfully I was caught by someone. I looked up and saw an oldish man.

"Hello Love! I can tell this your first time here. We all fell down when she first did that with us. You learn to find something to grab onto. I'm Graham by the way." Graham spoke gently but loudly over the noise of the ship. I couldn't help but giggle, my grandad used to call me Love too.

Then as quick as the ship started, it came to a gentle stop. I looked around and notice the same 2 people from earlier. The girl was smiling and laughing to something the boy mentioned. They must be old friends. I then noticed the Doctor walk towards the doors and open them just enough for her to check outside.

"Right (n/n). I'm calling you that as we are friends now. Go on, it's your first new planet and you care about these spiders more than we do so I think it's best if you check everything it perfect for them!" The Doctor spoke with excitement. She even clapped her hands for a moment, obviously not being able to control the surge of energy running through her.

I held the spider in my arms and the doors opened in front of me. I closed my eyes for a moment as the light blinded me temporarily. I could feel the warmth of a sun and the cool breeze the gently whipped past your face giving you the perfect cooling needed. The planet smelled sweet yet sour like Toxic waste sweets. I could hear many creatures making strange noises, some were doing a high pitched growl and some others were doing deep scream. Then there were nicer sounds like birds tweeting but in a lower key and something sounded like a piano, specifically an old ragtime piano.

I slowly opened my eyes and noticed the silver sky and its 4 suns in each direction. I noticed that the high pitched growl was from a small flying frog like creature and the deep scream was from a big rabbit- horse like creature that was just chewing the purple leaves off the metal looking trees. The bird like sound belonged to a small Robin like creature, but instead of a red chest it was a beautiful blue hue and it had silver eyes that sparkled just right. The Ragtime piano sound belonged to a dog-raccoon like creature that scampered away with its mouth full of the fallen berries that the rabbit-horse dropped from the leaves. The grass beneath was as black as ink and the pond to the right of me was a strange red colour.

"Well what do ya think? I personally think it's perfect but you seem to know these arachnids better than me so, I could be wrong, although, I'm not often" The Doctor spoke with eagerness. I noticed her looking at me as I took in the world around me. Why does this feel all too familiar to me? Why do I like the escapism of Earth? Why is this so, freeing?

I took a deep breath in. "Its perfect Doc. The spiders will love it here! They'll adapt pretty quickly I believe. The creatures are big enough to satisfy them. Although the sounds are a little off putting." I put the spider in my arms in the oddly cotton soft grass and watched as the thousands of others followed in its footsteps. Some carried the baby spiders and others carried the eggs. They had already found a cave to lay the eggs and started weaving some webs within 10 minutes.

Once I was happy with everything, I said my goodbyes and entered the strange ship once more. I could feel fresh tears sting my eyes like tiny hot needles. I get so attached so quickly and I noticed the string warm up and I checked on my soulmate, she was looking at me with an all too familiar look, the look of complete adoration. So the string tells me when her love for me evolves until we kiss? I mean, that's when it disappears for everyone else.

"This was great Sunshine! I had a ride of a lifetime, I really did. So I guess, you can drop me off home, I'm probably not wanted and I don't wanna ruin your team dynamic here."

"Why on Earth would you think that? I was actually wondering if you'd like to join us. Those spiders trusted you and having someone like you would really make the adventures more thrilling. Besides, I really like you and there's something special about you and I can't place my finger on it. I don't like not knowing things. If I drop these off home for a bit, would you mind if I ran some tests on you?"

"Really? Sure. I don't mind. I actually wanna know aswell. You see, I know what's special but I don't want to tell you in front of the others, its a bit embarrassing." I asked whilst blushing. She nodded her head and set the TARDIS coordinates to Sheffield. The Doctor promised she'd be back in a week and set the TARDIS to float in our solar system whilst she got to work on me.

We walked into what I can assume is some sort of med Bay. The walk had conversations about the last planet and how we thought the spiders would adjust. Eventually she sat me down on a white bed.

"So, you said you knew why you were special. I don't like cliffhangers so I'll give you a custard cream if you tell me." She said as she got a paper document and waited for me to speak.

"I don't know how or why but have you ever heard of the red string of fate story?" I asked, wondering how to word this without sounding weird. She nodded her head in understanding. "Well, when I turned 16, I could see everyone's red strings. The world was covered in red. I was confused at first until I read that story."

"Hmm. That is interesting because all stories have some truth to them. Some are exaggerated and some are exactly as said. Well that story is a good example of that. Thousands of years ago, there were 2 species of human, homo sapiens and homo spectrians. Spectrians were low on numbers in population as they'd spend almost all their life playing match maker. You'd know Spectrians as Cupids. However when battles and wars happened, Cupids were out of a job as everyone had to focus on the country and not themselves. This is where arranged marriages started happening and Cupids were becoming depressed. Eventually the Cupids decided to blend in with the humans and became virtually extinct. You might be the only Cupid left in the universe, other than Valentine himself." She explained it so well.

"Can Cupids see their own string?" I asked. She paused for a moment. Her eyes flickered between heartbroken and hopeful. I felt the string flicker between cold and toasty warm just like her eyes.

"No. Cupids weren't supposed to have soulmates. But I guess you are technically half human so maybe that makes sense. Do you know who your soulmate is?"

"She's amazing. She's like a Goddess. When I first saw her I immediately thought, She's too fucking perfect for someone like me. She incredibly smart too but, can be oblivious. I mean, I only met her a few hours ago and I'm fucking smitten with her. She reminds me of sunshines and rainbows. I'm just waiting for her to make a move." I told her. She looked at me for a moment, processing this new information. She smirked for a moment once she figured it out.

"Well my soulmate had me wrapped around her finger the second she jumped in front of a spider to save her life. A bold move like that normally makes me mad but, she did it so well. I haven't known her long but I can see me being by her side forever, travelling the stars. She reminds me of those stars actually. The way she sparkles in the light. I love you (y/n) with both of my hearts." She spoke softly as we slowly leaned in. When she finished, she planted her soft lips on mine and the red string was gone. Not that I noticed until an hour later when we picked the team up and held hands to announce our relationship.

Maybe dating a sunshine is exactly who I needed.

[imagine-loki]

The Slutty Web One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 7 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Astrid apologized, agreed to everything and Thor lead them to a location to hide their vehicle.

"Loki will be pleased to know your helping."

"I should have thought to from the start." She regrettably admitted.

Frigga hugged him. "Thank you for agreeing to take her back should this fail." ***** For eight days, their plan worked until her Father paid the palace an unexpected visit.

Odin was in the front courtyard boasting to some Einherjar about beating an Embassador at charades, when their commander, Nedvar, interrupted. "Ignoramus at twelve o'clock, Sire."

The King groaned. "Splendid. It's Rodderick the dipshit."

"Give the word and we'll pitch him over the wall."

"Tempting, but what do I tell my daughter in law?" Odin hated the occasionally unkempt Lord who preferred perfuming to bathing and greeted him from behind a hedge. "Welcome Roddy. I look so forward to your unscheduled visits."

The disdain was mutual with Roddy feeling Astrid could've done better than wed whom he considered a criminal, Prince or not. "Greetings, Heiness. Might you be so kind as to share the knowledge of when your son intends to return?"

Astrid's parents had two daughters, her being the youngest and known to the Royals as her Father's least favorite.

"That depends on whom you miss more. Asgards lovely Duchess, or my son? Her beloved pardoned Prince. I can give either a message."

"Miss? Impossible as Astrid's practically taken up residence again. Should I relay you wish she ceased luring her Mother from bed crying, or send her home to disturb your sleep?"

"I wasn't aware she'd returned from Midgard. Has age required you hearing aids, or were you night prowling in hopes of accessing Ingrid's locked bedchambers again?"

Roddy frowned and crassly replied. "The lovely Duchess returned with Frigga. Is your wife telling lies, Allfather? Mine would never."

Odin cackled. 'Festering dimwit. Ingrid is banging my valet.' "You shall regard Frigga as 'Queen' and with utmost respect."

"My apologies. She is celestial, yet your defensiveness is revealing."

Roddy liked poking subtle jabs at the Royals and assumed Astrid a barrier to consequence. Most were directed at Loki and the King, but he'd worn Odin's patience too thin. "Insult anyone in my family again, including your daughter and face repercussions. Be gone, Rodderick."

"So soon?"

Odin's jaw clenched. "Leave egghead before I crack it on the pavement. Nedvar, escort him to the gate."

"Gladly, Sire."

Roddy followed, hardly perturbed. "One might expect the offering of a beverage after a stuffy carriage ride."

The commander jolted the gate closed. "Try opening a window Lord Heskin. If you're thirsty, there's a pub nearby rumored to host naked wrestling in the basement. Some days it's ladies, others gents. Enjoy."

When Odin entered their chambers bellowing to the Allmother, her lady in waiting sent word through a chain of servants to a handsomely paid Stableman. Familiar with an alternate route to Astrid's parents, he arrived ahead of Roddy and rushed her to the observatory.

Thor received her call and left immediately. 'Shite, brother. Where art thou?' ***** Following two days in Paris, Loki and Brianna cruised Lake Laguno in Switzerlandand. She questioned him about Asgard and her grandparents, yet when asking the circumstances behind his adoption, Loki spun a tale of half truth.

"Jotunheim had a King named Laufey who owned a magical cube that opened bridges to every realm. Long ago, he used it to attack Earth. Grandfather bravely defended your realm, forced his army back to Jotunheim and demanded he relinquish the cube. Laufey refused and continued attacking Asgards army until most of his people died. Grandfather found me alone amidst the rubble and decided to adopt me."

"You didn't tell him who your parents were?"

"I was an infant and the only survivor for miles."

"Where was Laufey?"

"He'd gone into hiding like a scaredy cat."

Instead of finding his comment amusing, anger washed over Brianna. "He abandoned a helpless baby to freeze? Introduce us and I'll use him as target practice."

Loki booped her nose. "I'm honored you wish to avenge me, but Laufey died and still suffers in the afterlife."

"How?"

"King scaredy cat will never have the privilege of meeting you."

Brianna smiled. "Or you. Was Grandfather hurt?"

"He lost an eye, but recovered nicely."

In Amsterdam, they visited the Artis zoo with over 900 species of little animals, an aquarium, planetarium and Zoological Museum. Further confirmation Brianna's his was how quickly she learned enormous amounts information and remembered the smallest details when later initiating a quiz. Since confessing to the burglaries, Loki was curious how she knew the homeowners were abroad and worked it into their conversation.

She replied like it was all in a day's work. "Dory accompanied me to different parks in fancy neighborhoods around Jersey, posing as my babysitter. Between eavesdropping on adults and questioning kids, it's amazing what you can learn inside a sandbox."

"Questions of what nature?"

"Like, 'I'm new to the neighborhood and love my big house. Where do you live?' Or, 'I'm going to visit my aunt Matilda's lavender farm to make soap.'"

"How was that helpful?"

"Most thought it dull and bragged of their families planning grander trips. Once attaining addresses and dates, I'd stake out their houses and proceed from there."

"Ah. With Dory as the lookout?"

"I left her in shelters or nearby motels. She never figured out how I managed, but by the third burglary, stopped worrying whenever I'd sneak away and send her a text." His eyes widened and Brianna rose a palm. "Dory lacked powers and I wouldn't risk her arrested because of me."

Why lecture when she'd acted out of desperation to find him? "You're a good friend, Og Min Lille."

"Thanks. I regret the stealing, but pranking the authorities was fun."

Loki thought it something innocent like tipping off their hats, but discovered her mischievousness paralleled her intelligence.

"I always struck at night and at one house, four police were investigating inside when I turned on the lights, flushed every toilet and set off their sirens. At the third, I poured a large olive oil path onto the kitchen floor, slammed a pantry door and watched two come running. One slid into it and fell, while the other amusingly contorted himself until the first tripped him. They sure swear a lot for the good guys."

"Brianna." He playfully scolded. "Say you did nothing worse."

"I'd be lying."

"Oh?"

"At the last house, the master bedroom had black drapes and life size models of a lion, wolf and a fang baring polar bear on its hind legs. Weird people. After aligning them near the door, I closed it, extinguished the lights and tripped the alarm. The police came, shone a flashlight inside and from the foyer, I made the bear roar."

Loki chuckled. "Did they scream?"

"And shot the bear."

"What?!" He led her someplace quiet. "From now on young lady, all pranks must meet my approval or…" While pondering means of discipline, he blurted what first came to mind. "...All shoulder and piggy back rides are discontinued."

He made both fun, thought Brianna. Bumping into things when her hands covered his eyes, then flipping her over his head for tickles. Or feigning valiant attempts at shaking her off to escape enslavement.

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~ "Have mercy and release me!" He pleaded, captured during a picnic.

Brianna popped him on the head with her fake sword, a stick with a bushel of leaves at its tip. "Cease your begging, pheasant! I rule this realm, appoint you my new zombie slayer and hunter of all things chocolate. Fail and be fed to puppies!"

Loki set her down and knelt on one knee with a hand to his chest. "A frightful demise your majesty of cuteness. I humbly accept."

"Daddy, I'm supposed to be fierce."

"Eh he he he. Sorry." ~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Brianna deliberated his threat and wittingly proclaimed. "Are you not the God of Mischief and I your offspring?"

He arched a brow. 'Don't laugh or she'll never take you seriously.' "I mean it."

Brianna had already pulled some under his nose. A boy who'd aggressively budded before her at a park slide discovered his shoelaces tied together after nose diving into the sand. A woman at a restaurant who harshly berated a server had red wine spilled onto her Gucci bag. Minor sprinklings of karma she happily administered.

"But you're still a prankster."

"Rarely and without endangering anyone." 'Shite. I'll need to keep that fib under wraps.'

Brianna crossed fingers behind her back and feigned defeat. "O-kay. Can I have a snow cone now?" ***** After seeing the Northern lights in Norway, they'd returned to their hotel where she became oddly sombre.

"Has something upset you?" Loki asked.

"During our travels, I've seen many people with children. It's obvious they're loved, but my family..why, Daddy?"

Her pain pierced Loki's heart as she clung to him. "People can do terrible things for incomprehensible reasons, but you're my little girl now and I'm overjoyed you've come into my life."

When her tears ceased, she unexpectedly opened up about the women. Her first memory was of Jillian singing her to sleep at age three. She and Claudia taught her to talk, walk, bathe and dress herself, brought her toys, fictional and educational books. Yet it was Jillian who'd paid her the most attention, their visits consistently monitored by Hannah. A person so controlling and void of sentiment, Brianna wondered how the trio became friends. The woman opposed their closeness and the first time Brianna defended her Mother, she was forbidden upstairs without Hannah present, who ordered Claudia to report otherwise. This became impossible when the two landed full time jobs. With Jillian delegated homemaker, Hannah was forced to trust her. Over the past year, she'd broadened Brianna's computer knowledge, snuck her for walks to a hidden trail entrance off the main road she'd marked with glow in the dark tape, taught her outdoor safety and survival skills and always stressed keeping everything secret, especially Brianna's magic or Hannah would separate them for good.

"Jillian knew of your powers? Why have you never mentioned any of this?"

Brianna frowned. "She bread me to thicken her purse. No amount of secrets and added kindness makes that excusable or her worthy of commeding."

An undeniable fact Loki avoided arguing. His daughter was hurting and preaching Jillian might've experienced a change of heart could impede their relationship.

She halted his conflictual thoughts by bashfully asking. "Do 'you' love me?"

"Very much, Brianna."

"Can I stay with you forever? Please? I'll move to Asgard."

Loki doubted she comprehended the gravity of her words. "Forever doesn't mean a month long visit as we previously discussed. It involves permanently residing on another realm thousands of miles from Earth where the landscape, culture, even people's wardrobe's are entirely unfamiliar."

"I know. Devoid of space travel, would it be any different if I moved to India, Antarctica or say..Bhutan?"

"I suppose not. I'm sorry, Bhutan?"

"It's a small country just south of China. I memorized Earth's geography and most of its cultures in one month."

"Very good." 'Genius supreme. I must catch up.' "Then you're willing?"

She yawned, proudly raising her chin. "Affirmative. I'd like to see those sandbox dwellers top that adventure."

Incredibly relieved, Loki chuckled. "You've ten remaining seconds to gloat, sleepyhead. Ten..nine.….three, two, one."

"Hey, you said those last digits awfully fast."

"It's time for vampire pajamas, your fierce and Royal Highness."

"A story too? Will you conjure The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud?"

"The Empty 'what?'" He amusingly queried. "No way, Jose. I've chosen three options of popular children's literature from the internet. The Cat in the Hat, Whinnie the Pooh, a rather peculiar name for a bear and Charlotte's Web."

"Isn't the last tale about a spider?"

"Yes."

"They're creepy. I choose that one."

'Mother would be impressed.' "Hurry then before zombies find us and eat my brains!"

Brianna shouted from the bathroom. "Nobody hurts my Daddy! Huyya! Take that you fiendish barbarians! Uh oh."

Loki rushed in upon hearing glass crack and found her standing on the bathtub ledge. "What did you do?"

"I was pretending to fight them off with my hairbrush when it flew from my hand, struck that picture and landed in the toilet."

He laughed renewing both with magic. "Your toothbrush is safe, yes?"

Loki finally thought her asleep when she reached out for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot to say I love you too. Goodnight."

His heart swelled twice its size. "Goodnight, Og Min Lille." ***** Next they ventured to London and a budding lover of history, Brianna asked to visit The British Museum. While viewing a dinosaur skeleton from an upper walkway, she pointed into the crowd below.

"Daddy, isn't that Tony?"

He took a gander. "Well, well. Iron Man it be."

"Who's the strange lady he's with?"

"Pepper, darling. She often wears wigs to avoid recognition."

Her eyes brightened. "Please, can we say hello?"

"Inconspicuously. I'll him send a text." Daddy concealed his phone. 'Greetings kinky crossdresser. What brings you to Londinium?'

'Loki???'

'Yes. Act casual, we're hiding.'

'Holy shit! We're on vacation and at the Savoy in the Royal Suite. Can you meet us there ASAP? It's important.'

'We're on the ninth floor. Rendezvous in an hour?'

'Ha! We'll be there with balls on!'

'Come again?'

'🤪 Bells, dammit! Bells!'

'😂 Brianna can't wait.'

Tony hurriedly guided Pepper through the crowd. "Excuse us..pardon us..excuse us."

"Where's the fire?" She whispered.

"Daddy Snowflake's in town. Hustle, Butch." ***** Their door opened and Brianna ran to him. "Uncle Cootyoodles!"

"Little Warrior! Am I happy to see you!"

The couple listened with enthusiasm about everywhere she'd been, then Tony asked to speak with Loki alone.

Virginia led her into their bedroom. "Wait 'till you see all the cool stuff I bought."

"That'll keep her busy." Said Stark. "Pepper's a London shopaholic. So why the vanishing act? Thor called me."

Loki scoffed. "I did tell him not to."

"Don't be angry. Astrid returned and wanted to contact me."

"Why? You knew nothing."

"She didn't believe him. Neither did your Mother and Thor worried they'd show up at the Tower."

"What?! Our Mother came to Midgard in search of me? Shit..shit!"

Stark told him everything and Loki's face was unreadable. "Nope. There's nothing weird about staring like I've grown a nipple on my face."

"Did I mention it's pierced? You're saying 'my' brother, Shakespeare in the park, lied that extensively for me?"

"Yes and sent them back to your Dad to expand on it. What's everyone's problem with an awesome six year old anyway? Is that why you didn't go home?"

"Becoming a parent, you're suddenly bombarded with complex decisions centered around one tiny person you never fathomed loving so deeply, much less an indisputable desire to protect above all else."

Stark smiled. "Look at you. The master of Sheisterism all growed up..whose dodged my question."

Loki sunk into a chair. "Maturity aside, my life is a mess. Asgards people still regard me a traitor, Astrid and I are constantly arguing and it's completely unfair of me to expect she Mother a child she didn't bare and Odin's my grandest worry for classified reasons I've become an insomniac over. I can't subject Brianna to that. Her life has been dreadful enough."

"Not anymore. She has you now. I endured shitloads of public and political outrage over changes to Stark Industries. 'Wealth aside', I thought it my doom. People adjust and opinions fade. Astrid will come around once they meet. Look at the number Little Warrior did on us."

"She 'is' irresistibly charming."

"Whatever gramps issue is, arrange for her a few rounds with the old coot. She'll straighten him out."

Loki smirked, picturing Brianna dancing circles around the Allfather. "My Mother would buy ring side seats."

"See? The bulk of your family is on your side. Let them help."

"As appealing as that sounds, Astrid will expect hours of explanation I haven't the energy to convey. I love her, but she 'is' a drama queen."

"Eligible for an academy award."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Piss off, flying human."

"Thor's willing to talk without the wifey knowing. I've a burner phone as you tend to appear in the strangest of places."

"Mm. Like when I ran into you in a sleazy massage parlor near Carnegie Hall?"

Loki was still a bachelor then, but Tony wasn't.

"I didn't know they offered sexual favors until the masseuse grabbed my dick. They weren't listed on the brochure."

"Eh he he he. I'll call when I've a chance."

They clammed up when Brianna exited the bedroom. "Can I go Daddy, please?"

Pepper followed. "Sorry. I blabbered the Tea shops chocolatiers add finishing touches to their masterpieces at this hour."

"You may." Said Loki.

Tony slipped Little Warrior fifty euros. "Buy me an eclaire and keep the change. Badass ate mine."

"Yay! Thank you!"

They left and Stark unpacked the phone. "Here's your chance while Brianna's absent. Text him, 'Garage?'" ***** Jane distracted Astrid while Thor sat in the cabin of his truck and the brothers soon cleared a lot between them.

"I'm not upset you deceived me anymore Loki, nor is Mother. Yet I'm worried Father's making her life miserable. Are you fearful he'll scorn Brianna?"

"Not up for discussion and relax, brother. You've been gone a while. Mother's gonads have grown."

"She's taking male hormones?"

"I meant she's less meek? Have you dropped the toaster in your bathwater?"

"That only happened once." Thor defensively replied. "I was late for a waxing of my package and hastening making breakfast. Nor have I recently smoked Jane's medical marijuana. She threatened torture were there not enough to ease her menstrual cramps again."

Loki deadpanned. "Norns you're a tit, fruit of Odin's loins.' "How's Astrid?"

"Coping. Jane said she'd do anything to see you again."

"Coping amidst stewing over my bedding of another 'Midgardian hoe' I've fathered a child with, and the humiliating circumstances involved."

"Believe me, brother, she too is no longer angry and the diaries contents stayed within Stark's walls. It isn't my story to tell."

"Your software needs reprogramming, impersonator. Thor Odinson was never so thoughtful of his sibling."

The blond laughed. "He's turning over a new leaf."

Loki had sought privacy in another room and suddenly heard Brianna desperately calling him. "I have to go. Don't tell Astrid we spoke yet." Upon opening the door, she threw herself at him.

"Daddy!"

"What happened?" He asked Pepper.

"We neared the shops door when she gasped, bolted for the elevator and started frantically pushing the button."

Brianna was trembling. "Darling, why are you frightened?"

"We can't stay here, Daddy! She's down there!"

"Who is?"

"Hannah!" She cried. "I'd know that red headed witch anywhere!"

"Shhhhh." He soothed. "I promised they cannot hurt you, remember? Stay here with..."

Brianna wrapped herself tighter around him. "No Daddy! Don't leave me!"

She was so distraught, he couldn't. "I won't, Min Lille. Shhhhh."

"Virginia's gone." Said Tony.

Loki's head shot up. "Back to the shop?"

"Yeah. Said the witch looked familiar and went on a hunt."

"Fuck! Get her back here!" Brianna jumped from Loki's voice. "Sorry Min Lille. Tony, now!"

"Erm..why?"

"Because they've met! If Pepper confronts her, she'll vanish!"

[alexanderlightweight]

take my throne above

ao3 link

Magnus frowned as he watched the last glimmering effects of the distant portal shatter and fade.  The demon who had alerted him to the attempted breach, hissed and pressed it’s crested brow against his shoulder before launching into the dusty heavens of Edom, retreating to it’s nest until it could be of further service.  

“Magnus?  I thought the point of eloping to Edom was so that we didn’t get unwanted visitors.”  Alec’s amused voice was soft, he had no need to speak loudly when his words would be carried directly to Magnus’ ears by the wind.

Without turning he held back a hand, perfectly content to wait the mere seconds it took for his Alexander to reach his side and slide their fingers together.  It made him feel complete whenever they were reunited, time was such a boundless domain but he suffered the burden of it whenever parted from his love.  

“Nothing to worry about my dear!  Even if someone did get through, between the demons, my magic and your superior archery, they’d have no chance against us.”  Magnus flicked his fingers as he spoke and let the might of his power echo across the canyon they overlooked.

“How time passes,” Alec murmured and pressed a devoted kiss to Magnus’ jaw, “I remember when we first came here, how even the magic of this realm fought against us.”

A pang of uneasiness made Magnus still, his muscles tensing as turned to cup Alec’s face with his hand, “too much time?”

“The years we’ve shared,” Alec said, voice lowering, “are but a mere moment in our long life.  I could never ask for anything but more time with you.”

Magnus pulled Alec close for a sweet, passionate kiss that was tinged with his desperation and adoration.

“Sometimes I worry,” Magnus said and the admission was a relief to share, “about just how different our lives became, how much you lost to live this life .”

“Does it matter?”  Alec asked, confused and a little hurt, “Magnus, we survived when we shouldn’t have.  We found a way to destroy the soul sword, ensure that Valentine would never be able to summon Raziel and that his son would never rise.  Lilith is defeated and your father confined by limbo and all because we sacrificed ourselves. I lost nothing and gained everything.”

Magnus smiled but he felt little joy, “immortality was a boon where you’d expected death.”  He reminded Alec gently, “your family and friends expected you to have a mortal life and your presumed death, while a tragedy, was not unexpected.”  Alec nodded in understanding but didn’t interrupt as Magnus continued, “and after we won, you were just as trapped here as I.”

“Magnus, I know enough to be sure that in life and any dimension, you will always be the best thing to happen to me and the love of my life.”  Alec vowed and squeezed Magnus’ hand gently, “Edom is but the place I live, my home is you.”

-

Alec frowned at the ichor coating his fingers and ignoring the sting of it, he absently wiped it onto his pants and kept walking, the carcass of a small demon cracking under his heel as he continued on.  The demon had been a tolerable one until it had drawn too close and tried to play with the shiny and captivating shimmer of his arrows, cute in theory but aggravating in practice. Alec didn’t mind the demons for the most part, but if they became a nuisance, well then -he was still a shadowhunter regardless of his place of dwelling.  Despite Edom lacking shadows it never lacked prey and here, in his husbands empire, Alec was one of the apex predators. Still, stalking the same kind of demons over and over again became somewhat monotonous and while he would never complain to Magnus, he sometimes missed the thrill of the chase, the edge of danger and the exertion of a good brawl.  

Tumbling and training with Magnus was its own kind of fun, but a different kind that always led to games and eventually to their bedroom and Alec wanted more than a little rough and bloody foreplay.  When he’d been an active shadowhunter in New York, he’d never considered himself a reckless soldier, or one that chased the high of a fight. However that had been long ago and while his recollection was strong, those had been the budding years of what had become a long life.  The echoes of that time faded more and more the longer he lived, until the people he’d once loved and called family were nothing more than dark shapes in a washed out memory.  

“Lost in time?”  Magnus asked, his voice and face a beacon of color in a dim world and Alec was reminded of how much joy there was to be had.

“Something like that,” Alec said with a laugh, delighted as Magnus caught his hand and spun him.  Magic wisped out, burning the last of the ichor away as music began to play and his husband wooed him with steady hands and confident steps, a teasing tango for two.

-

Magnus twirled on the edge of his heel, his magic weaving an intricate web and the scream of pained fury from his captive made him smirk, it had been a long time since he’d had live prey like this.  Demons made no threats and begged for no mercy but this, he let his magic burn and watched as his opponent withered and writhed in Edom’s flames before their life was snuffed out, this was interesting .

Back at his castle, at their castle, Alexander was waiting for him.  Bright eyed with a wide, boyish grin that spoke of an age lost to decades, blood a pretty rogue for his face and the blush of a bruise on his knuckles.

“You look radiant,” Magnus teased and was pulled into a fierce kiss that took his breath away and left him swaying where he stood.

“I’ve missed the hunt,” Alexander admitted and he looked like a god of war, the gleam in his eyes the madness of immortality and the delight of the living’s victory over the dead.  “Maybe we should let intruders in more often.”

“Anything you want.”  Magnus promised, his own excitement rising at the thought of another chase, “ everything you want.”  They were the protectors of their land and from their enemies bones they built a throne of power, metaphorically of course, Magnus may rule a dimension of hell but unlike his kin he had class.

-

Alec wet his lips, tasting the dust of Edom and feeling a new surge of cursory delight as he took in the green, nearly glowing terrain of the world before him.

Edom had an effect on you when you spent long enough in her embrace and Alec couldn’t remember the last time he’d inhaled clean, untainted air.  It was crisp and almost sharp as he breathed it in, marveling at how cool it felt and the caress of it against his skin made him shiver.

“Regrets?”  Magnus asked, his eyes gleaming a deep gold and a look of hunger -normally reserved for the bedroom or calling down a storm- had darkened his features into something fierce and beautiful.  

“There are no regrets when I’m with you.”  Alec promised fervently, “besides, Edom will be there for us to return to whenever we please.  Out here though, here there are entire worlds to explore.”

“And subdue,” Magnus added softly, something delightfully wicked in his gaze as he offered his hand, “I’d be a poor ruler indeed if I brought my husband to a boring land.”

“Boring?”  Alec asked and his laughter was low and unrestrained, “baby, with you around that would be impossible.”  

[lighterandpaper]

Waiting

Photo by @ante_kante

In Laurie’s bedroom, she peers out her window. There is a creature like a spider, only much larger. She watched it weave its entire web, and now it is motionless; waiting. There is a knock on Laurie’s bedroom door. “Come in,” she says. She wipes tears from her cheeks and looks at the door hopefully.

When George enters, she groans and curls back up in her bed. “What do you want, George?” 

“You’ve been in here for a month. Why don’t you come out and eat with us? I’m going to start Lord of the Rings--” 

“No,” she says. 

“Have you talked to Tina at all?” 

“No,” she says. 

“Look,” he says. “I need to talk to you about something and I can’t wait anymore.” 

“And the truth finally comes out,” she says, hands gesturing at the wall. 

He comes all the way in. “I’ve been thinking about Fate,” he says. “It’s hard to think about right now, but she isn’t ageless like us...” He waits for a reaction. When Laurie doesn’t move, he continues. “I can give her some general aging treatments that you pioneered, but she will still age in her DNA.” 

Laurie’s expression softens, but George can’t see it. “That’s true, George.” 

“Well, as you know, they can’t get here to pick us up for another 80 years...” he says, his tone asking, “Need I say more?” 

Laurie doesn’t speak for a while. “I can’t do it, George. I’m sorry.” 

“What do you mean you can’t do it? You did it on Earth!” 

Laurie finally faces him. “Yeah, I had an entire university, it’s staff, and the scientific infrastructure due to centuries of work by thousands of scientists! I can’t just whip up a batch of immortality potion just because you really want it, George.” 

His expression remains controlled. “How can I get you to try?” 

“You can’t,” she says. 

“Please,” he says. “I want my daughter to see Earth. Please, just think about it.” 

Laurie doesn’t answer. George stands and leaves. 

Later, Laurie is sitting with her feet propped up in the lab. She hasn’t showered in days. She’s eating a whole potato like an apple. “It’s kinda nice to give up,” she says. “You know?” 

Soren is typing on the computer and glancing at the clones. Laurie’s own clone is somewhere between the size of an adult and a fetus. “Yes, I do know, but not in the way you’re thinking.” 

“Oh boy,” Laurie says, getting even more comfortable. “Blow me away with some of that philosophy, baby.” 

Soren smiles. “You haven’t given up. You’re just putting on a big ‘I’ve given up’ show for attention. When you have truly given up, everything will become clear to you and you will no longer get in your own way.” 

“You think I’m trying to get attention? Have you smelled me?” 

“Yes,” Soren says. “Currently.” He wrinkles his nose. 

Laurie is quiet for a while. “Fuck you.” 

Soren nods. “Tell me about that anger.” He’s still working.

“I’ve lost everything and you’re sitting there telling me I can’t even have this. I can’t even be a slob without you ruining all the fun.” She takes a half-hearted bite of her potato. 

“You can do whatever you want,” he says. “You can fool them with your show.” He nods toward the door. “You just can’t fool me. Or you.” 

“Stupid insight...” she mutters. 

Soren continues to work and Laurie sits close by, secretly thankful for Soren and that he was the only person she didn’t feel embarrassed to be around. 

The sun is getting near the horizon and the raw potato didn’t exactly fill her up. She stands. “Can I get you some food, Soren?” she asks. 

“Sure, grab me a tray,” he says. 

In the hall, a door opens on her way to the open area. Henry is coming out of Tina’s office. He glances at her and then looks down quickly. He walks away. Laurie stopped in her tracks and watches his back. 

“Laurie!” Tina says. Her head is sticking out of her office. “Come in!” 

“No, I was just going to get some food for--” 

“Shut up,” Tina says. The out-of-character response stuns Laurie out of her slump for a moment. “Come talk to me right now. I’m not asking.” She walks back in her office without closing the door. 

Laurie follows like a nervous deer. “Sit,” Tina says. Laurie sits. “Why haven’t you been coming to your sessions?” 

“Well, I’ve been sorta all over the place--” 

“Yeah, it’s a small dome,” Tina says, a quick smile. “You know you signed papers that you would do at least one therapy session a day with me. Everyone did. We believed it was vital for the social success of the mission.” 

“I’m sorry, Tina--” 

“Obviously, girl,” she says, scanning Laurie up and down with a pen in her hand. “You know, I try not to let my own feelings get involved, but it also hurts me that you don’t want to talk to me, you know?” 

“Umm, I’m sorry, you’re kind of throwing a lot at me right now.” 

“How do you feel right now?” Tina says. 

“... Confused,” Laurie says. “And a bit provoked.” 

“That’s good!” Tina says. 

“How is that good?” 

“How were you feeling two minutes ago?” 

Laurie’s mind flashes to seeing Henry. Understanding grows on her face. “I see what you’re doing.” 

“Can you still tell me how you were feeling?” Tina asks, her tone returning to normal and sweet. 

“Depressed,” Laurie says. She looks at the floor, her body slumping again. “Abandoned.” 

Tina nods understandingly. She puts a hand on Laurie. “Anyone would feel that way. What does it make you want to do?” 

“Give up.” 

“What does giving up look like to you?” 

“I don’t know. Just not being here anymore.” 

Tina nods again. She lets Laurie simmer. “What else are you feeling right now?” 

“Guilt,” Laurie says. “I nearly killed Anna. Fate. Henry. I lost my baby...” She bites her lip, fighting the tears that fill her eyes. 

“You can let it out,” Tina says. She hands her a box of tissues. 

Laurie allows herself to weep for the first time since she can remember. She curls up in the chair. Tina is quiet, a hand rested on Laurie, for the entire duration. When Laurie quiets to soft sniffs, she says, “Fuck.” She begins to laugh. She sits up, still giggling. “Is it OK that I also feel like shit that I can’t study McGregor anymore?” 

“Yes,” Tina says. “I saw how happy it made you to study him. That’s part of the reason I didn’t pester you too much for missing sessions.” 

“Ahhh, fuck,” Laurie says. She blows her nose. She slumps. “What am I goin to do?” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“Maybe apologize,” she says. “Uhh!” she puts her forehead in her hands. 

“That’s probably a good idea.” 

“Ok...” Laurie says, resigned. 

Tina stands. “I know you’re hungry, but you have to come back tomorrow.” 

Laurie nods. 

In the open area, George preaches about the eventual return of the Earthlings. Henry is off to the right, working on his metal. Everyone else is at George’s feet, listening intently. “Their return is only the beginning of our lives. We will return to a new Earth, heroes and adventurers. Right now is not wasted time, it is time to really get to know ourselves...” 

Laurie grabs a tray of food for herself and Soren and heads to the back. 

“I almost gave up waiting for you,” Soren says when she opens the door. 

“Sorry, I ran into Tina.” 

“Seems like it helped,” he says. He takes a bite. “Ew, this is cold.” 

[alliswell21]

Avengerlark, Assemble!

Here is my first try at this... I know it’s not my best, and it’s actually kinda short. This first one is dedicated to @dandeliononfire, since it’s her brain child. While I do have a backstory for K & P, If anyone is interested in more, please, by all means, send in a request/prompt and I’ll try to work with it.

Unbetaed.

Enjoy.

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Heads up!” A whole car wheezes by on my right, just as the shiny flash of metal zooms past me propelled by hand and feet jets.

“Hey!” I call out in aggravation and leap in the opposite direction, shooting strand after strand of web compound out of my wrists. The Kia is still descending straight to a store front, so I start weaving a sturdy web in front of the falling vehicle.

Then out of nowhere, a huge shadow looms on top of me. I only have time to look up and hug the nearest wall before She-hulk crashes on top of the flying car with a mighty roar, pancaking the frame to the concrete directly below.

I moan frustrated.

“In coming meteor!” A male voice snaps in my suit’s com.

I start running across the wall, slinging a web and leaping upwards.

“Where are you going, webs? Get the civilians in the ground!”

“There’s nobody down there!” I yell back. “I’ve looked and there isn’t anyone on the street!”

Iron Girl’s furious growl comes through the com.

“Guys, the sky is falling! Take cover!” Hawkeye calls out just as the first ball of fire descends.

“Smash!” She-hulk punches the fireball, pretty much the same way she did with the flying car, except this time, the object ping pongs against the ground and everything it touches catches on fire.

A second and third flaming rock hit earth. The computer sirens come up into everyone’s earpieces, “Warning, warning. Imminent failure.”

“Move it, move it, move it!” Screams the Iron girl jettisoning in between meteor fragments, blasting everything in her path, but the debris is falling to fast, too close. Unnatural in my opinion.

“Warning, Warning. Failure imminent.”

“Huge bogey approaching.”

“Warning, Warning—“

“Everyone, run for cover. We can’t fight a rock that sized!” I call out, navigating myself around the chaos.

“Prepare for impact, in three, two, one—“

A volley of arrows pierce the already deflated tires of the Kia She-hulk smashed a minute ago and the whole background glitches twice, before the blue lights of the training center flicker back to life all around us. A whirring sound coming from the vaulted ceiling signals the hologram machines shutting off for the day, and soon after, a chorus of tired, painful groans echo in the cavernous room.

Only the flattened car and a few other big objects, like a dumpster and a few light poles remain.

“Ugh! That was awful.” Says Gale Hawthorne, landing awkwardly in front of me. He scowls at his crossbow, pulling at the string like he’s afraid it got damaged with the few arrows he just shot into the useless rubber of the car.

Congratulations Hawkeye, you just killed an inanimate object. The thought comes into my mind unbidden, so I force my eyes elsewhere before the words escape my mouth. Too bad my eyes turn to the exact spot Iron Girl touches ground.

I’m not as quick averting my gaze this time.

“It wouldn’t have been as bad if everyone had been in position!” She bites, flicking both hands at the same time; the Iron suit opens up down the middle, panels of shiny gold and green armor recede and fold back until only the back of the suit stands, and Katniss Everdeen’s slim, strong, and perfectly sculpted right leg steps out of her encasing. The rest of her body follows, and I have to groan internally, because she’s wearing those biking shorts again, the ones that mold to her tight, little behind like a second skin and leaves nothing to my imagination. Her sports tank top doesn’t help either.

I tear my mask off before I suffocate panting like I just ran a marathon in it.

“Everyone was in position, Catnip. Even Johanna was in position for once!” Grunts Hawkeye.

“She-hulk did good!” Responds the big, green girl, otherwise known as Johanna Mason, the She-hulk.

“I built a net for that car!” I exclaim exasperated. “Do you guys know how much wasted web material that is? It takes three days to gather ingredients, make, and package one tiny vial of web! Can we not waste it?” I grumble.

“Spider-lad sad!” Says She-hulk mockingly.

“Spider-MAN, thank you very much, Johanna. And I’m not sad, I’m aggravated about the fact that perfectly good spiderweb went to waste.”

“She-hulk sleep hammock!” Jo gives a hulking chuckle before jumping on my beautiful net, like it's indeed a hammock.

Only, she gets stuck and starts roaring angrily, kicking her massive legs and punching the air with her humongous fists, until finally the threads give and she sags half a foot deeper, but it’s still suspended above the ground, cocooned in my net.

“Stop squirming!” Shouts Gale, aiming an arrow at my web and efficiently cutting Johanna out of the mess.

I groan again. It’s helpless.

“Enough!” Calls Katniss cracking her knuckles. “This exercise was a disaster! Nobody responded the way they were supposed to. The execution was sloppy and loose. We looked like a bunch of amateurs!” She snaps, “How can we defend Earth from threats if we can’t even manage a measly simulation?”

“The simulation was faulty.” I say, “There were no civilians in the ground, the meteor shower was coming in too tight and fast, not to mention too big a chunks of it. Plus the reaction to the one punch from Jo was totally wrong, it defied laws of physics.”

Her flaming gray eyes turn to look at me, there’s anger in her gaze when we lock eyes. “You weren’t in your spot! Why did you move?”

“Katniss, the buildings were holographic, in case you forgot. I situated myself as close to my mark as I could. I can’t magically cling to holograms, you know. And throwing that car my way in retaliation is not very heroic either. You’re lucky my spidy senses tingled a second before that Kia flew past me, Iron Kat, otherwise I’d be a windshield splatter. Your warning skills could use some improvement!” I respond in kind.

Katniss’ face flush with renewed anger. I can see her biting the inside of her lip as her scowl deepens. She’s formulating her comeback, but Gale beats her to it.

“Give it a rest, Catnip. The Web Slinger is right. We can’t always have a neat formation during practice. Is just not realistic. If an enemy attacks Earth, it won’t wait until we’re all set in our designated areas, camera ready. If you want to have a real fighting chance, you need to learn to plan on the fly.”

“Fine! If you’re so awesome at improvising, then you have point tomorrow! I’m going to shower before our call with Ms. Potts.” Katniss stalks out of the training center, and Gale and I stand there watching her perfect ass walk away from us.

At least, I am.

Gale’s her second cousin though, so I guess he wouldn’t be looking at her romp the same way I am; which embarrases me right away, because I’m supposed to be annoyed with her, in a professional matter, instead I’m admiring her retreating form like some kind of pervert.

“She-hulk hungry!” Says Johanna stepping between me and Gale, jogging after Katniss.

“Did you think Catnip noticed Jo’s not wearing a shirt?” Asks Gale staring at Johanna with both fascination and revulsion.

“Dunno. But I’m sure she will once she’s showing Pepper Potts the replay video of today’s exercise.”

“She’s gonna be mad.”

“She sure will.”

“I’m glad she’s your girl and not mine,” Gale gives me a glance out of the corner of his eye. “You deal with your angry bobcat of a girl.”

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling anxious. “Um… you know about us?” I cringe.

Gale rolls his eyes and steps away from me. “Peeta, she came down to breakfast two days ago wearing the top of the pajama set Effie Trinket gave you for Christmas… while you wore the bottoms.” He turned sideways to level me with a pointed look, then kept on walking away while speaking. “Neither of you are very slick, my man. I would warn you to keep your sticky limbs away from Katniss, but she’s been more cheery since you two started sneaking around. If this practice had happened two months ago, Miss Iron Maiden would’ve force us to repeat the simulation until everything fell the exact way she envisioned it.

“No, she’s definitely more laid back since jumping your arachnid bones. Heck! I even saw her smiling yesterday. You know the last time I saw her smile? It was a while ago. So, from fellow teammate to teammate, you keep her happy, Peeta Mellark, whatever it is you do in that cave of yours, keep her happy. And I’ll keep pretending I don’t know what you’re up to with my baby cousin.”

Gale disappears down the hallway, making me feel like a total idiot.

“I make her smile?” The thought makes me ridiculously happy. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m merrily swinging on my webs from wall to wall through Avengers tower to my room; a stupid smile splitting my face in two.

I make Iron Kat smile! F yeah, I’m the man!

[beesmygod]

this is what riverdale is about (part 6)

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

and now...we come to the end of our journey...the final 4 episodes of the season. who killed jason blossom? you forgot that’s what we were doing, huh. you  were way too distracted by sex archie and the jughead/betty relationship (called ‘bughead’ in universe). 

i have a friend who has been watching riverdale because i have basically tricked him into doing so and frankly, what i am typing here was and is only the surface of this show’s nonsense. as he watched episodes, he reminds me of all the completely bananas shit that this show throws at you literally every second it is on screen and honestly its a relief to know that, as much as i can try to just give you some basic facts, watching the show itself is still a totally different transcendent experience. its really the only show of its kind; shamelessly stupid but unaware of it while openly delighting in all the silliest cliches presented as straight faced as possible. if these write up do anything for you at all, please, please. watch the show. you will be shocked at how much more there is to discover.

images are from the riverdale wiki

---

SEASON 1 (PART 4): 

the lost weekend: this is the one with a very special guest star in it: molly ringwald as archie’s mom! she and fred (luke perry) have been separated for some amount of time for an unknown reason. yay she’s so cute! i love her. oh uh, also they’re getting a divorce. the papers are going through. archie gets the bad news in the middle of a gaming sesh with jughead.

meanwhile, veronica meets with her dad’s lawyer (whose name is paul sowerberry?? he never shows up again despite his unbelievably silly name) and tells him she’s not giving him a good statement as to her father’s character to help him get a lesser sentence. “fuck you dad!” is the general sentiment before she stomps out to go to school.

oh man there’s a weird aspect of this show that i have neglected to mention. this isn’t something i’ve ever experienced in school so it was totally foreign and weird to me but the students have their own lounge that they mingle and talk in...at...some point during the school day?? jughead’s opening monologue of this episode makes great pains to talk about how every moment of their lives are scheduled from 8am to 3pm but there’s apparently plenty of sittin’ time where they can just laze about this random room talking about crimes they have or are going to commit. a great deal of talking happens in this room when usually you’d have to like, sneak a convo while getting shit out of your locker between classes. i dunno, it’s weird. this is where archie tells veronica about clifford blossom sending her dad to jail so he can jack the land everyone is fighting over.

archie and betty make plans to celebrate jugheads birthday by taking him to the movies, which i feel like is in poor taste given his movie house was just destroyed but whatever. with betty coming along it’ll be just like the three muskateers! betty replies “AcTuAlLy ThErE wErE fOuR mUsKeTeErS” and somehow he doesn’t beat her to death with his bookbag right there and then. betty then doubles down on the bad words flowing out of her mouth and proposes they hold a surprise party for jughead since, according to his dad, he’s never had one. i have no idea what would compel her to think he would want this. even i know he doesn’t want this and i only know him through a tv screen. on top of this she goes out of her way to invite his deadbeat alcoholic dad multiple times. i thought she was supposed to be the smart, observant nancy drew type but like...what the fuck betty. jughead does, in fact, get pretty pissed at archie just for telling his girlfriend that he even has a birthday. presumably instead of telling him he emerged fully formed from the leader of the black parade’s forehead.

after finding out from some files that her dad was receiving money monthly from clifford blossom for some unspecified reason before the arrest, veronica challenges cheryl to a dance off and wins. unfortunately, veronica cant come forward with what she knows because it would make it look like her dad put a hit out on jason in retaliation. dance off to relieve the pain.

jughead fucking hates his party and makes sure everyone knows it. this is something NORMAL people do and he is NOT normal!!! he leaves the party in a huff when cheryl shows up to get her dance off revenge by ruining the party by inviting the whole school. this is the episode where he does his famous “im a weirdo, i have a hat” speech, which is deliciously dumb. they get in a fight, while jughead’s dad talks to kevin’s boyfriend (who you will remember is a member of his gang he assigned to keep tabs on the progress of the teens looking into the whole land plot mess) while betty’s mom secretly listens in?!

cheryl activates chaos mode and locks everyone in the house so they can play a game called “secrets and sins” which is really just an excuse for her to ask everyone horrible questions to make them feel bad. veronica accuses cheryl of fucking her brother, dilton doiley tells everyone about grundy’s statutory rape of archie andrews and chuck tells everyone about dark mode betty drugging him for an impromptu bdsm session which causes jughead to go apeshit and try to throw a weak little baby punch. jughead’s dad, as the only adult who for some reason let all this happen, finally throws everyone out and tells them to go home.

archie and veronica sleep together, by which i mean, next to each other in the same room. veronica testifies on her father’s behalf and discloses to betty the link between jugheads dad and the serpents and her dad’s land plot dreams. molly ringwald appears for 20 seconds.

INHALES. OKAY.

to riverdale and back again: its homecoming babey! archie’s very supportive mother has a nice talk with him. :) veronica founds out that her dad only has to serve “a few more months” in prison for his various white collar crimes, further proof that riverdale takes place in america. jughead and his dad have a nice normal breakfast while fp sweats and asks him “hey uh, how come uh you’re writing about the uhhhh murder and investigating it and stuff” like a normal dad would. archie and veronica tentatively agree to start going out. 

penelopy blossom brings polly (betty’s pregnant sister, remember her? i didn’t) a strawberry milkshake in the most ominous way possible. veronica plans to sneakily find out if jughead’s dad is helping her own and for what purpose, ultimately. jughead accepts and invite to betty’s house for dinner, not knowing her mom is going to grill the shit out of him and his dad over the whole kid murder thing.

polly finds the ring jason proposed to her with back in penelope’s room while snooping, and has no idea how it wound up back in the hands of his mother. according to penelope, jason threw it in their face when he renounced his lineage, then gives her another milkshake.

the cooper family event is disrupted when betty, wise to her mother’s horseshit, invites her estranged dad to dinner too. all hell breaks loose when the subject of homecoming comes up and fp reveals that while alice and hal were crowned homecoming king and queen, they got in a knockout, drag-out fight backstage. alice flips out before he can reveal what it was about and betty and jughead flee for the dance. meanwhile archie and veronica try, and fail, to find something incriminating in fp’s trailer.

cheryl discovers the milkshakes are DRUGGED and polly is going to sleep through homecoming. she informs her parents that she has disposed of the ring (evidence) and they dont have to worry about it anymore. you can see where this is going.

jughead’s dad drops a bomb on him right before homecoming that they’re going to move to toledo to meet up with jughead’s mom and baby sister. jughead hates this bc he just got used to betty and he wants to write his murder book.

archie and veronica sing a truly terrible cover of “kids in america” that has to be seen to be believed.

meanwhile, sherrif keller tears up fp’s house with a search warrant and finds the gun that was used to kill jason blossom. WHAAAA??? BUT ARCHIE AND VERONICA JUST SEARCHED IT??? how could this happen.....jughead finds out about the web of deception weaved by the friends and tells them all to fuck off so he can go to toledo with his family. jughead literally turns around and is informed that his dad was just arrested for murder. his life is so hilariously bad.

the sheriff sucks so bad at his job because he tells his gay son everything who then spills the beans to archie and co (sans jughead) who learn that fp is being framed, because they already tossed the place before.

cheryl has the ring. at this point none of these things mean anything.

i cant believe i still have two more of these. i’m going to have to split this post after this one.

anatomy of a murder: as it turns out, archie discovers, information you discover during a breaking and entering won’t hold up in court. oops. meanwhile fp inexplicably confesses to kidnapping jason after his fake drowning at sweetwater river so he could use him as ransom after discovering he heir to all that sweet maple syrup money. according to fp, jason nearly escaped so they cut their losses and blasted a hole in him. he also confesses to torching the car and stealing the sheriff's files (which we, the audience, know hal cooper did, not fp). well. that’s that, i guess.

betty’s dad comes back to the family home to destroy the murderboard evidence all like “whoo hoo! fp took a bullet for me!” hal’s concern and his reason for stealing the files in the first place, as it turns out, was because the feud between the coopers and the blossoms is more complicated than we thought. the coopers WERE blossoms, until grand-pappy was murdered, so they packed their shit and left with a new name. so that makes polly and jason related. cool!

fp apparently used his his last phone call to call kevin’s boyfriend who, after some pressing by the gang, admits that while he didnt see fp pull the trigger, he did help him put jason’s body in a freezer. this tip leads them to the corpse of a serpent who had a sack of money in a monogrammed dufflebag with the initials “h.l.” (hiram lodge). this is a comically dumb move for a crime boss to make. it is shockingly stupid.

joaquin tells kevin about a secret stash he and fp set up before he bounces from town forever because riverdale sucks. in the stash is jason’s jacket. everyone puzzles over what it means until betty, noted brain genius checks the pockets. in it they find a usb drive.

they sit down and watch the usb and react like they’re watching a sad documentary and not a snuff film. betty calls CHERYL OF ALL PEOPLE and tells her what they just saw on the usb. cheryl, queen of chaos, confronts her dad and tells him that everyone knows what he did.

it turns out the video depicts jason tied up in the basement of the whyte wyrm, there the dead serpent watches over him. clifford blossom walks in and blows a hole in his kid. fp confessed to protect jughead, who was threatened by cliff as the heat poured on.

clifford dies surrounded by his greatest love, maple syrup, by hanging himself in the syrup barn. lol

the sweet hereafter: how the fuck is there another episode of this? they solved the murder, what else could there possibly be to do. wtf. anyway.

the cops find hella drugs in the maple barn after clifford’s death. the assumed story is that jason learned about his dad’s heroin smuggling business and threatened to tell the cops on his dad which lead to his abduction, and eventual death. i guess the polly thing is in here too somehow. not important i guess. the lodges prepare for hiram’s arrival. betty and archie are going to be honored by the mayor for cracking the case at the 75th annual jubilee (wtf). hermoine attempts to buy fred out of the project now that the cops are cracking down on the serpents and making them the face of the construction company is now a very bad look.

betty tries to write an article for the town paper about fp being innocent but her parents wont publish it, citing it as a conflict of interest given she’s smooching the subject’s son. jughead FINALLY JUT NOW gets a social worker who realizes that fred has a dui and is not fit to care for a kid. he has to transfer to a new school district...SOUTHSIDE HIGH SCHOOL!!!

cheryl apologizes for throwing hands at jughead in a previous ep and gives him her iconic spider brooch. i am only bringing this up because she says, specifically, that selling it will net him a good amount of hamburgers and “s t-shirts” for years. why is she the only one who notices he only wears one kind of shirt. betty’s article getting published in the school paper leads to the above retaliation.

veronica’s mom honest to god asks her to sexually manipulate archie into convincing his dad to sell the project to her.

betty’s mom, after a confrontation, tells betty abt the fight she and her dad had on homecoming night when they were high schoolers. turns out...alice was pregnant. she gave the baby up for adoption after she went to the sisters of quiet mercy, like she did with polly, even though hal wanted an abortion. betty immediately tells all her friends this shit.

jughead transfers to the new high and flourishes. turns out they’re all baby gangsters there so they look at him and his dad as kings to be admired. when the archie group heads off to go rescue him, it turns out they dont need to do anything. but now that theyre all conveniently together, veronica gets a txt from cheryl saying she’s going to go be with jason....

they rush to the river where cheryl is having her ophelia meltdown in his stupid little river boat dress where she punches through the ice until she falls through. theres no way to describe how silly this scene is unless you see it so i won’t try but its so melodramatic and cheesy that youre going to be amazed that it got through the writing team at all. archie saves her by punching through the ice the other way. from under the ice. you will soon find, that all of archie’s solutions are to punch things.

betty does a speech at the jubilee that convinces fred not to sell. a nice ending for him.

meanwhile cheryl burns her fucking house down for a lark. just for the drama of it all. 

the same night, jughead and betty start to fuck, as do veronica and archie. not int he same room, like totally separately. but jughead is interrupted by the serpents and a dog named hotdog, who give him a jacket of his own so he can join the team. betty is scandalized.

archie goes to meet his father for a breakfast at pop’s chocklit shoppe for a serious talk. but while he’s int he bathroom, a man with a gun is holding up the chocklit shoppe. he demands fred’s wallet, then pops a hole in him and runs off.

and that.........is where this season......ends.

---

thank you for joining me for season 1 of this shitshow. i love this shitty show. if you loved reading about it, or were mortified by whatever the fuck happened here, then you should watch it as well.

i never pass up an opportunity to shill myself, so if you like what i write, drop me a buck or two at my patreon. i do more writing like this, but also i mostly make comics, so make sure to read the page when you’re signing up so you know what you’re getting!

i WILL return...with season...2!

https://www.patreon.com/aghoststory

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations, DEL! You’ve been accepted as IO.

Del, I didn’t want to stop reading your app, and honestly? I’m a little mad that it had to end. But that makes me all the more excited to see you continue Cain’s journey on the dash! When it came to Cain’s bio, I really felt that you nailed the dichotomy between healing and hurting that was central to his skeleton. I especially loved the way he saw his abilities as curse-like at first, and how he’s been able to separate what his hands can do versus what they want to do. If Cain punched me, I’d thank him.

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information: 

NAME/ALIAS: Del.

PRONOUNS: they/them

AGE: 24

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: HST. Tbh about a 7...maybe a 6. I'm in classes and a full time internship so I can be a bit slow but I always try to keep my activity up as best as I can!

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: CAIN

GENDER/PRONOUNS: he/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: 

So when I was reading some tips for Cain I accidentally misread it as “fists born to heal” and I really ran with that idea for a hot minute and a half. 

For me, Cain is like a baseball bat to the face. He's blunt and brutal and effective. He isn't interested in politics or the nuanced exchange of power and intrigue that weave through the city like a web. He's a simple man. He has simple desires. He wants to hit stuff that pisses him off. He wants to protect the people he cares about. Thats the entire reason he sticks with the Jem Family, because being a mutant fucking sucks and that's society's fault, so fuck society. 

I really want a Cain who is very straightforward. If some people are...layered ...like onions, then Cain is the type of person who’s more like a rock. Try to peel back his layers and you will accomplish only two things: 1) fucking up your hands real bad, and 2) realizing that there’s nothing underneath. With Cain, what you see is what you get. And what you get is a man who is perpetually angry and probably wants to fight you.

He is aggressive and he is angry at both a micro and a macro level and he is willing to shake the city down the bedrock if that’s what it will take to beat some sense into people. He’s not interested in maintaining peace or compliance as tensions in the city rise higher and higher. He doesn’t want to hurt people who don’t deserve to be hurt but he’s willing to do what he needs to do (though I think it’ll be interesting as conflicts and events arise to explore how willing Cain actually is to make sacrifices and see collateral damage happen). Cain wants to see the world change and he doesn’t mind if it burns a little first. I fully believe that he’ll be a big mover and shaker and shit instigator. 

BIOGRAPHY:

The anger is with him all along.

It's a cyclical kind of story. His father’s father meets some poor woman, makes a baby with her, and leaves. Over two decades later his father does the same thing. This time he clears out their joint bank account before he disappears. 

Cain hates his grandfather and his father. He hates that part of them is part of him, buried in his blood and his bones. They ruin his life and neither of them stick around to see it happen. The older he gets the more of his father he will see in the mirror, and the angrier he will become. 

His ma is a good woman. She is a good mother. She doesn’t deserve to be married to his deadbeat, chickenshit father. 

Cain adores her. She does her best. She doesn't complain when his father leaves, she doesn't even resent him for being such a shitty husband. When it becomes clear that his time out on the road is the type of time out on the road that never ends, she just sighs a deep, sad sigh from the middle of her chest. Cain will always remember that sigh, the way it sounds. It is like a reverse Pandora's box' all the hope emptying out of her at once and leaving only the bad shit behind.

She has a kid to raise and she does it without complaint. She works herself to the bone to keep him warm and keep him fed. She cleans for a living. The work is hard and the pay is shit. The hours are long.  Cain spends a lot of nights waiting for her to come home. She comes back sore and tired and aching. Sometimes she is barely able to stand. Cain learns how to help as quickly as he can. Maybe this is where the healing starts; him and his mother, his hands running over her back, knuckles digging into the knots of tight, angry, wrong, and digging into them until they slowly break apart. 

All of the cards are stacked against him as a kid. for most of his childhood he is a shrimp with no father. He is a dirt poor. His mother works all of the time. He's not that smart and he's not that friendly. He is at the very bottom of a very long social  food chain. He gets into fights often and he is destined to lose most of them. A lot of his time is spent getting hit. He uses up the rest crying, hot angry tears in his room, alone. He makes few friends. As soon as he's old enough to fake fourteen, and even a little before that, he works. He rides newspaper routes and scrubs dishes and fixes cars and mows lawns and does anything anybody tells him to as long as it will get him paid.

There's no magical thirteenth year for Cain. He never goes away for summer and comes back gigantic. Growing up is a slow, laborious process that ticks by in centimeters and inches. There's a time where he's small and scrawny and always picking fights and always losing them. Then he starts losing them less. Eventually he isn't losing any at all. His bullies start to look small and scrawny themselves and they start to leave him alone unless there's enough of them that they think they can all gang up on him at once, but after awhile even those fights are ones that Cain can win. 

That’s about when he starts to get paid to fight. This time he gets to fight in a ring. He’ll never get his chance at becoming a boxer or some MMA jackass but he’ll come pretty close. There’s no star power in Cain. He’s an angry, ragged son of a bitch. He’s got the charisma of a fly. People don’t like him much on principal. No one is ever glad to see him win a fight except maybe his mother. But you don’t have to be well liked to win, and Cain does win. He wins a lot. Eventually people start to show up to watch him fight.

That’s how he finds his father again.

Chicago is a big city. It's the kind of place where you can meet someone and never see them again for a decade, maybe two if you didn't get out much.

He’s just finished a fight in some seedy arena on the west side of town. He’s won in a single, brutal knock out and some people are excited about that but most people are pissed off that there wasn’t more of a show. Cain’s ignoring whatever the fuck people are yelling at him and Cain is just tryign to leave so he can peel of his dumbass shorts in the bathroom and go home.

And there’s a man in the crowd in front of him. He’s staring at him. Cain stares back.

He is older than Cain remembers, and he is shabbier. There’s a beer gut where there wasn’t one before and his arms are thinner. His face is lined with wrinkles and his teeth are yellow. A few are missing. If Cain were anyone else he might not recognize him

But a boy always knows his father and a man always remembers someone he hates.

This is what he remembers in that moment as his hands curl up into fists. He is a kid. He is watching his mama make some calls. She’s asking around to see if anyone has seen his father. He knows what she knows but refuses to admit. No one has seen him. No one has heard from him in days. He is gone and he is not coming back. 

Eventually she dials that bank. Cain isn’t really sure what she’s talking about but he knows that it’s not good. His mother’s face goes pale and her lips go tight and thin and she nods along to whatever the man on the other line is saying even though it’s clear she’s not listening to him anymore.

She says her goodbyes in a tight, polite voice. It only shakes a little at the very end. Then she hangs up and she sighs that sigh. It’s going to stay with him all his life. His father leaving doesn’t destroy his mother. It just hollows her out. That’s worse in Cain’s opinion. 

He is only 12. But even 12 year olds can want to kill people. He swears that if he ever sees his daddy again, he’s going to beat him dead. 

In 15 years the anger is still there, pure and white hot. It will always be there. It will always be waiting. 

He jumps out of the ring in one easy lunge and then he’s on top of his dad. He’s punching him in the face. The man spits blood and broken teeth. Cain is hitting him again and again and again and again. His hands feel hot, unnaturally so, like something other than his own blood is heating them up from the inside. Beneath him his father bleeds and spits out more teeth and groans and still Cain beats him. No amount of beating will ever be enough for him and he knows this. He knows he’s going to murder his father on this floor and he knows it will make his mother cry. He hates that these things are going to happen and he accepts them anyway. This is what needs to be done. This is what his father deserves. 

He grips his father’s head in his hot, hot hands and he spits in his face. 

It takes six guys to drag Cain off of his father. There aren’t enough inside the bar to do it. He knocks three out when they try. But eventually the police show up and there are enough of them. Cain is a big guy and he’s strong and he’s tough but even big strong, tough guys don’t do well when they get tazed. 

They drag him outside and they shove him into a cop car and the last thing Cain sees of his father is a man, covered in blood, pulling himself off the floor with shaking arms. 

He disappears before anyone has a chance to ask if he wants to press charges. Cain isn’t surprised.

Three aggravated assault and battery charges are enough to put him away for a long time, though. The sentencing is actually lighter than what he expects. Weirdly enough, despite the bloody crime scene and Cain’s size and all the witnesses who were sure they saw Cain beating his father to death, there’s no serious injuries to speak of. He hears down the legal grapevine that his father walked away that night, and that the guys who tried to pull him off didn’t even need trips to the hospital. Cain had bloodied their noses but somehow neither of them were broken. Miraculously, his public defender tells him. They all claim that they’re feeling better than ever.

Cain sits and listens to him. There’s a tick in his jaw that won’t go away, an angry jump of muscle as he grinds his teeth.

His mother does cry when he’s sentenced. He’s not happy to see that. 

When he’s back in his cell, alone, he drives his fist into the wall hard enough to split the skin of his knuckles

His hands feel hot. His knuckles hurt but they stop hurting very quickly. When Cain turns them over to see, he watches his skin knit slowly back together, closing over the open wound until it looks as if there were never a wound there at all. Cain stares. He swallows. He hits the wall again, hard, in the same place. He watches blood drip from his hand and then he watches the dripping stop. The same thing happens again. 

Oh, he thinks to himself. Oh fuck. 

Prison is a lot like being a kid again, except his mother isn’t there to comfort him when he gets into fights or when he crawls into his bed to bleed. Everyone wants to get a piece of the new guy, especially since half the time somebody gets into a fight with Cain, none of their injuries ever really seem to take. Cain puts his hands on them. He lays them out and he holds them down and he hits them again and again and again and  they hurt and they bleed and they get back up afterwards feeling fine.

He hates his powers at first. He wants to be able to beat the shit out of people the same way he has for years but the moment to hands get hot it's over. Nothing he does is really going to hurt his opponent. Sometimes they leave the fights looking better than when they came in.

 It doesn't take long for his prison mates to learn what he is. It doesn't take much longer for the warden to get wind of it too. 

And that is how Cain Douglas finds himself moved from Cook Corrections to Hornsbury Prison for mutants. 

If Cook Corrections was prison then Hornsbury is something below it, something sub-prison where men and women aren't allowed to feel even the slightest bit human. It's the type of place that’s not even trying to pretend it's here to fix you. It's here to break you and it wants you to know it's here to break you, all that guards, all the wardens, and most of the prisoners all want you to know you're here to be broken. 

He's roughed up by a couple guards in the first week. Thanks to his power not much of what they do to him manages to stick, but not much of what he does to them manages to stick either.

After that they just throw him in the hole for insubordination. It's cold in that dark, empty concrete room. It smells of the piss and fear sweat of the last guy they had in there. 

He spends a lot of time in that hole. He will never admit it to anyone. But sometimes he is afraid he will die in there, all alone.

He gets out eventually. Maybe it is for good behavior. Maybe it’s because people realize that Cain can win fights but he can never end them. His hands are harmless and by extension, so is he. 

There’s no job waiting for him when he gets out. He’s just spent five years in prison. Two of them were in Hornsbury. Everyone in his part of town knows about what he did to his father and worse, they know that he’s a mutant.

The first night Cain spends back in his home, someone sets fire to his mother’s front lawn. 

He packs up and leaves the next day. He loves his mother. This will always be true. But he won’t stick around her if it puts her at risk. 

And then there’s really nowhere for him to go but the Jem Family. He’s heard of them, before prison, but he never cared about it before becoming a mutant. He doesn’t care much about it when he first arrives either. It could have been any gang as they gave him a warm place to sleep and some food to eat. Cain isn’t picky. Unfortunately the Jem Family and Damien have a way of creeping under his skin. They’re good people. They care about people, about mutants. And they care about Cain, which more than he can say for just about everyone else in Chicago except for his mother. They give him food to eat and a place to sleep and pay him money he can send to his mother every month. 

They help him learn how to control his powers. They give him back a part of himself he thought was lost forever. Thanks to the Jem Family, he gets to decide what, when and who he’s healing. He also gets to decide what and when and who he’s hurting and honestly, he’s a little more thankful for that than the former. He starts to be happy that his power is what it is. He gets to help people that he cares about. He starts to care about helping people at all.

It was easy not to care about mutants when he wasn’t one. It was easy to ignore the way they were treated. 

But that’s not something Cain has the luxury of doing anymore. He sees how much people hate them. How afraid they are. He’s seen it in the scorch marks on his mother’s lawn, and in Hornsbury. He sees it now more than ever as everyone in the city starts to pick a side. It pisses him the fuck off. 

This city has needed the shit kicked out of it for a long fucking time and with the gan’s finally uniting, now is as good a time as any to land the first blow. 

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS: 

DANA RAMONE,

HE IS JEALOUS. He’s learned to appreciate his power but that by no means means that Cain like, likes being a healer. He’d much rather have something crazy and violent and powerful to use and he would definitely be kinda salty at Dana depending on their attitude towards their power. I also think it’d be neat to explore (mun willing of course) how he feels about her lack of control because he’s struggled with that before. If there’s a warmer relationship between them I can totally see Cain maybe trying to work them with them on control because he knows what it’s like to always feel a little bit incompetent in your own body. 

But y’know. If they don't’ talk that’s fine by him b-baka.

JACKSON RAEMERS, 

What Cain feels about Jackson is very similar to what an older sibling feels for an annoying younger sibling. He doesn’t want them seriously injured or hurt. He cares about them deep down. But if Cain went a whole week without seeing Jackson it would be the best week of his fucking life. I think Cain would be big on just shaming them for bing such a klutz and if they come in for really superficial injuries may just make them go deal with it themselves.  

LUKE ESPINOSA,

So I read on Luke’s own relationship description that they’d probably totally destroy Cain if they were allowed to use their powers on him. I want Cain to be like, very , very aware of that and totally pissed off by it. He’s not sure what makes him more angry, knowing that Luke thinks he could beat the shit out of him or knowing that it's true. He doesn't like losing. He never has. And he doesn’t like knowing that the only reason he wins against Luke is because Luke is giving him a huge handicap by not using his powers. It makes his blood boil and that definitely comes out in the way he fights with him and just deals with him in general. I’d love it if these two just sniped at each other all the time and def got into all sorts of dumb, non-competitions outside the ring to try and prove who’s the best without bringing powers into it. I’m talking some anime rivalry type shit. 

EXTRA: PINTEREST! NATCH! https://www.pinterest.com/bellydeli/mootants/he-hits-stuff/

[bazingaholmes98]

Prompt: Tony finds out Harley didn’t survive the Snap. 

A/N: Well hello there my marvel lovelies i felt like feeling sad, so here ya go. This is my first attempt and Tony so please, please, PLEASE let me know how I could improve this and in my defense I’m hella sleepy to proof- read this but I need the angst out of my system ;-;

@afuckingshipper @my-babies-are-ash Cause y’all wanted to be sad with me :)))

Dull voices buzzed around him, and gentle pats rained on his back. At some point, he registered Pepper hurling abuse at him, as she clawed at his ripped jacket, when a yelp informed him that her hands had found the deep gash in his side.

Tony didn’t see what the fuss what about though. Another corpse to the corpse pile - humanity had borne through worse and come out okay. Then why did this feel shittier than all those?

Oh, that’s right. Cause you could have stopped this. Ha.

Tony’s mind spun out of control as he collapsed onto some fine linen, the pain on his side slowly devolving into a dull throb, as a reassuring voice above him announced that the nanites will heal his innards in no time.  Tony thanked the voice and grabbed at his nanite housing unit on his chest, asking for a computer to reprogram it.

He could see Pepper snarl at him from somewhere and Nebula’s beady eyes consider the red head expanding before her in anger. Tony sighed at Pepper. Please, he willed his eyes to say, not now. Baby please not now.

Pepper seemed to understand, but her anger was too profound, too volcanic to muster sympathy, as she stalked out of the room asking for Happy to commandeer for his idiot boss a god forsaken laptop. Tony felt his heart sink - he wanted to run after her, hug her, promise her that he would never leave like that, even if it mean that another half of the Universe was going to dust.

Then why didn’t he? Why did he just readjust his back rest to receive the laptop that Happy was handing him?

“What are you doing?” Nebula asked softly from the shadows, the hood covering her blue visage. Everyone seemed to be taking her presence pretty lightly. And why wouldn’t they - everyone had other shit to care about. And apparently they all needed Tony’s attention, he observed as his phone logs and emails seemed to be blowing out of control.

“Friday get rid of this drivel,” he raised his head to face Nebula, as he slowly unhooked the nanite compartment from his chest, “Just taking stock. Seeing what we have lost. The world’s in chaos outside, and we can’t…” the words seemed to stick in Tony’s throat. What could they do? They couldn’t bring them back? It was the only way, Tony… bullshit Stephen and you know it, Tony’s brain seemed to be shouting. There is no way this is how they come on top. Not like this.

He snapped his mouth shut and quickly attached a cable to the unit and began to furiously type away - the nanites started to weave and shape themselves into his HUD. His brain was racing at a million miles per hour, the incomplete sentence hanging over his heart like a guillotine.

We can’t what Tony? Come on you vivacious prick can’t you complete a goddamn thought without spiralling into… there we go, go on panic you stupid, stupid fuck…

Tony starting to hyperventilate, as deep breaths pained his side. Nebula’s dark eyes remained fixed on the human, her deepening sadness masked effectively. She could feel the words in his mouth, stuck there because of denial. “They’re not coming back. So we gotta think of something yeah?” she finished flatly.

Tony nodded and continued typing away as the Iron Man mask slowly took shape on the hospital bed. He stared at the mask’s blank eyes.

The suit and I are one.

Prophetic. I feel just about as empty as this tin can.

“They aren’t coming back” Tony repeated blankly. Nothing could bring back the dead, especially those that were literally already dust. So why was he quickly rapping away at the laptop keyboard, trying to get Friday online?

It was like that time he was in his garage, in his car, sifting passionately through old reports about Vanko, trying to find out more about his assailant, and as the webs lifted, he remembered feeling an uneasy peace.

He could do with a little peace, however intangible and ridiculous that might sound. As if on cue, the eyes lit up with the familiar blue, and Tony slipped the mask on his head.

“Good to see you again, Boss.” Friday’s cool voice declared as soon as visor hissed in place. “Based on the reports and the events of the last month, I had estimated your safe arrival to be nearly 0.1%”

“Missed you too Friday,” Tony thought, as he was painfully reminded of JARVIS. “Alright what’ve we got?”

“It’s not good, boss.” Friday said, sounding tentative, “Governments are in disarray, they’ve been shutting borders left and right, nuclear threat is at an all-time high, even though Wakanda tried to....”

“What about SHIELD? Fury should’ve been…” A cold icy realisation began to explode throughout Tony’s abdomen, and suddenly he felt like he wanted to vomit. Director Fury never seemed like the kind of guy who could just blink out of existence - Tony had always imagined that he would go out in an explosion, Viking Style, with the rain of heaven shining off his bald head. A beacon of hope to those who deemed themselves irredeemable.

So why didn’t he mourn him?

“He’s dead.” Friday said confirming his worst fear.

“Compile a list of my contacts who are alive. I need to know who we can get on right now.”

The list was small, pathetically small. Nat, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Clint were alive. He raced his eyes across the list, looking for other potential additions to a team, trying to ignore the glaring loss of a Peter Parker on that list or the way his heart dropped like a turbulent plane as his eyes grazed the words “May Parker”. Not even that Lang dude seemed to be alive, or Pym, or his daughter, or…

“Friday,” Tony whispered, “Friday, where’s Sam Wilson?”

“Deceased, boss.”

“T’Challa?”

“Dead.”

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Dead.”

“All right fuck it, give me all the dead folks.” Tony groaned, his stomach flipping and somersaulting unpleasantly. The list was frighteningly large.

“Maria Hill.” He croaked.

“Dead.”

“Wanda? The Maximoff kid?”

“Dead.”

A child. That pompous shit Steve had said so himself, she was just a child. She didn’t deserve this, did she? If only he had listened - What good did... ah, fuck it never mind. He was too tired to think about lost causes.

The face of a young boy wrapped in a poncho suddenly popped into his head, and before he could stop himself he blurted.

“Harley. Harley Keener, Teness-”

“Dead.”

Nebula gasped at the speed with which Tony hurled his mask off his face, a gust of air exiting his already empty lungs, as he collapsed back into the bed, his face a sunken shell. The light twinkle that nebula had seen return when they had landed on Earth faded - to Nebula, Tony’s eyes were like the stars snuffed out by violent black holes, a black hazy void of dreams wisping about his doleful round eyes.

Just a child. 

“Tony?” Nebula noticed a dark man wobbling into the threshold, his gaze concernedly surveying the broken man on the bed. He seemed friendly enough, but Nebula inched closer to the bed, unsure of whether her intent was to protect Tony from the intruder, or Tony from the all-consuming darkness growing within his heart.

Tony continued to stare blankly at the wall ahead of him, as Rhodey stepped gingerly over to his friend. Relief washed over him when he saw Tony alive and well - watching Bucky disappear in front of Steve had made him paranoid for the months that he waited to hear from Tony again. It made him mad - it was like Afghanistan all over again. But seeing Tony’s expression - he recognised it from that time Rohdey had come to shout at him about Monaco in the garage. It was one of utter defeat. The face of the man free-falling out of control - his eyes were tinted with red, his face a bruised, battered mess. A man who had nothing more to lose, and would like nothing to change that state of affairs, thank you very much.

“Tony,” Rhodey said softly, his arm grabbing Tony’s shrunken form. Tony’s lip twitched and Rhodey tried hard not to hug him in the tightest hug he could manage and tried to put a smile on for his best friend. “Yeah man, that was some Afghanistan type shit. How many times have I gotta tell you that doughnuts ain’t good for you?” he chuckled, his eyes constantly on the lookout for any sign that he might collapse.

Tony managed a smile, as he grabbed Rhodey’s forearms and gave them a little squeeze as if trying to put all unsaid feelings into that little gesture. He was truly glad that his best friend was alive. But that solace quickly gave way to the image of Harley’s cold form wrapped in a poncho seared into his mind. That image slowly dissolved to dust in front of him, like Peter, like Quill, like fucking Strange. The smile slipped off his face.

He wanted to cry but no tears came. His brain continued to whir and click - it felt like shit, trying to get Friday back online, ignoring Pepper, hunting for those alive to form a team or a plan or something… it hurt cause that’s what always happened when Tony tried to feel hopeful. He would just end up hurting himself or someone he loved.

Tony wished to God that Stephen was right. Tony wished that he could find hope in Stephen’s affirmation that this was the one plan that would succeed. Tony wished that he could continue fighting, continue saving that little spark of hope that seemed to reside in some gold titanium armour within his body.

But for now, he was all out of wishing and lungs seemed to be getting even more airless than usual. Faces of the dead swam into his vision - people he had failed. The unlucky ones hand picked by the lottery of the Universe. 

“I had estimated your safe arrival to be nearly 0.1%” 

Funny how his luck seemed to be work in the worst possible way. The Universe seemed to be running his life in an entirely different casino - a casino where every chip was rigged to screw you over.

“So you’re just going to leave me here, like my dad?”

“I’m sorry.”

He was breathing heavy, his brain spacing out as Rhodey’s arm caught his slipping form into a hug. His eyes were screwed shut as his heart hammered against his chest, a little voice in his head crying out desperately

“Oh God, What do I do? What do I do?”

But while there was a comforting voice at the other end of the line in Tennessee, here it was just Rhodey’s cries for a doctor and his own relentless sobbing.

[dreamstormdragon]

OC Snippet Tag

Rules of the game: Pick an OC and answer the following 7 Qs!

I got tagged by @theblueskyphoenix

As for an OC… Darnit making me choose between all my babies.

I pick my Spider-Verse OC Athena Parker, because I’ve been wanting to do more with her but am on a bit of a “Don’t do anything new until after nano” so… Yeah.

1. Your OC is at a jazz bar when they see a mysterious, alluring dame being pestered by a joe that just won’t let up. What do they do?

She, really wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. She was just there to make a trade of goods, with a seller because it was cheaper than shipping.

However, she wasn’t about to sit there and watch that happen. The girl stood up, adjusting her gloves, taking aim.

The guy opened his mouth, for another pickup line, when he was silenced by a glob of web across his mouth. He let out a muffled yell of alarm, as he started looking around, expecting New York’s favorite webslinger to be hanging around the bar somewhere.

Athena tapped the woman’s shoulder gesturing for her to sit next to her.

“Thank you… I have no idea where that came from though.”

She smiled.

“Maybe there’s a friendly neighborhood spider chilling around. Root beer?”

“Please.”

2. The world will be destroyed in three days. What does your OC do with their remaining time?

The world, was going to collapse in three days. No one had expected that blasted device, to be recreated in another universe… Let alone a universe full of danger like no other.

“This is going to be tough.” She remarked, looking down at the ruined city, her hair blowing in the wind.

The man beside her, narrowed his eyes, giving her a nudge.

“You wanna sit and wait for the world to die, or get home in time for dinner?”

Athena smirked, pulling down her mask.

“Let’s stop the zombie apocalypse. I wanna punch zombie you in the face.”  She gave a thumbs up, showing she had a capsule in one hand. “We can make a cure rain right?”

Peter patted her head, before pulling his own mask down.

“Let’s roll.”

3. Your OC spends the night in a haunted house for a bet, only to realize that the rumours might be true… What do they do?

She hummed a little under her breath, her mind trying to block out any of the noises coming from around her.

Yarn over, pull through, yarn over pull through…

The air around her went cold, as something icy grabbed her shoulder.

“I, swear if you interrupt my counting I’m gonna sock you.” She growled, turning as a large misty apparition shrunk down behind the couch. “That’s what I thought!”

“Boss…” A voice whispered. “What do we do? She just gets mad!”

“Take her dang yarn!”

Athena held up a spray mister, meant for plants.

“You touch my yarn, I cleanse you out of this dimension.”

4. A character your OC cares deeply about has just passed away. How do they handle their grief?

She supposed, it was too good to be true. To believe she’d ever have a full and happy family, where no one was going to disappear from her life.

She sobbed harder, burying her face into a bundle in her arms. His spare suit, his mask… It still smelled like the laundry soap he used for it and baby powder.

MJ was downstairs, dealing with the press but Athena… Athena couldn’t go down there. It was just a reminder, that in the end…

 Spider-Man, chose to save her instead of himself.

Dad… Why? Why did you do this to me?

 She sat up, slowly staring down at the mask. No more night time runs in their casual clothes, no more sitting up late watching movies while making jokes.

No more dramatic sighing whenever we go to the craft store…

No more tucking me in at night… No more kissing Mom goodbye before patrol…

“You were supposed to be there for me… I’m not ready for this part…. I’m not ready,...” She growled, her voice shaking as she punched the mask down into her mattress. “You were supposed to give me away at my wedding you jerk!”

She sunk down into her bed, curling up.

“You… You were the only one who got what I’m going through…”

Dad….

Please come back.

Please let this be a bad dream I can wake up from…

I need you… I’m scared.

Daddy, I’m scared…

I’m scared of the dark...

 5. Your OC walks into a coffee shop. What kind of coffee do they order?

Athena hummed a little, strolling into her favorite shop.

“Ah, if it isn’t the weaver!” The barista laughed. “How hard did your dad’s credit card cry this time?”

Athena grinned, holding up a hefty bag from her favorite yarn store.

“Pretty bad. Can I have a mocha frapp with extra java chips, six pumps of vanilla and caramel?” She asked.

The barista winced.

“Oh… Oh, you are terrible. You want actual coffee in that?”

Athena stuck her tongue out.

“Nope. Give me my overly sugary drink fix please!”

6. Your OC finds themselves in a financial pinch - they need money, and fast. Who do they go to or what do they do to get the dough?

Athena sighed heavily, looking up from her laptop, to the people across the room. Her mother met her eyes, as she shook her head getting up quickly. She wanted no part of this upcoming war.

“Daaaad.” She called, in the most sugary sweet voice she could manage. “How much do you love me?”

Peter didn’t look up from the report he was typing up for the Bugle. “How much is this gonna cost me?”

“Just… a hundred and fifty…”

“For what?”

“Freshly dyed, baby alpaca yarn… and angora in some beautiful shades.” She batted her eyes, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. “I promise, I won’t ask for anything else!”

“Athena… I’m gonna teach you a lesson my aunt May taught me.” Peter looked up at her with a stern look. “I’m not made of money. I’ll drop cash gladly on your yarn that doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg but if you want that really fancy crap, either wait until the holidays or your birthday. Or find a way around it. But I am not dropping that much on new yarn, when you have tons of it upstairs.”

Athena sighed heavily, looking down at the skeins she oh so desperately wanted. She already could imagine the sweaters and shawls she could create from them.

Then… she got an idea… Athena looked up at him, giving another innocent look.

“Dad? Can I have an etsy store?”

“By all means, if it gets rid of the yarn you’re stashing in my spider shed go for it.”

A few days later, Athena was listing batches of Spider-Man related memorabilia on her new etsy store, from jackets to order by commission, to premade little plushies of the famous webslinger… and a few of her own persona.

“You think people really are gonna buy Arachne stuff?” She fidgeted, looking at the tiny plushie in her hands, that resembled her costume.

Peter patted her head, taking it and slipping her a twenty. She looked up at him in surprise.

“I know at least one person who will.” He winked, giving her a grin. “I think I’ll make her my little desk guardian at work.”

Athena giggled, hugging him tightly.

“Love you Dad.”

“Love you too Weaver.”

7.  Your OC somehow obtains the ability to time travel. Where do they go, and what do they do?

She was going to stop this. She had been so determined to stop it… she didn’t think about what would happen when she did. She saw her younger self, milling around a shop room, singing under her breath.

Before she had been bitten by a radioactive spider, dropped into her dimension… while it sucked her newly divorced future parent into another.

She had been intending to jump back, to stop the divorce from happening in the first place… but it made her pause.

Her younger self, had been so alone… She had her group home, yes. Her fiber art club at school.

But years of accumulating skills, taught to her by people who had said “we promise this is the last home.” Had hurt…

Arachne stared at Athena, spotting a familiar bright green, blue and black spider crawling along the wall.

Soon, I’m gonna get bit… Then in a few months, Mom and Dad are gonna drop in on my life...

Gosh and I was gonna mess up a good thing I had…

I love my parents… but I know if I stop that, then I stop this.

Then I stop my family from existing…

So, she turned away. She jumped back to her own time, throwing away the device that was letting her make the jumps. Trading her costume, for her favorite dress and jacket, bolting down the streets towards home.

Home, with her room that had the special shelves, just for her ever growing collections of yarn and thread.

Home, with the old school sewing machine her aunt May had left to MJ when she passed.

Home, with her weaving loom and her knitting needles and crochet hooks…

Home…

With her parents.

ooooo

Aaaaahhhh this was fun, to explore Athena a little bit, since I do wanna do more for my spider gal. For now… This shall be it. This was fun!

Let’s see…

I taaaaag….

No one. >83

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: xvi

who has two thumbs and no self-control? there’s just gonna be... so much garcy fic this week, you guys. so much.

part xv/AO3.

April 15, 2013

It’s Monday, it’s tax day, and it’s the week that midterms start. If it was possible for a group of people’s collective moods to actually be little black stormclouds over their heads, the entire history department would be drenched, but they have mostly confined themselves to double doses of coffee and bitching about the IRS, as well as various passive-aggressive email chains to the idiots who thought it was a great idea to schedule three faculty-search-committee meetings this week. Lucy is sitting on two of those, was up until three AM last night reading the various CV submissions (besides, it’s hard for her to sleep for other reasons these days) and trying to draw up her shortlist of candidates for the new Assistant Professor of East Asian History that Stanford is preparing to hire. She is all for more diversity in the workplace and the academic realm, but as timing goes, this could be. . . greatly improved.

Still, she supposes, she can’t complain too much, and she’s about to be away from it for several months anyway. Her leave starts at the end of next week, and she won’t be returning until the start of the fall quarter, so there’s plenty of stuff that needs to be finished up before that. Her in-tray has been apparently cursed with a magical charm to never go down no matter how much Lucy works on it, but aside from one of said committee meetings in an hour, she is free to hack at it for the rest of the day. Flynn said he’d bring lunch over, too.

A faint smile curls up the corner of her mouth, and she decides that coffee (decaf, unavoidably) sounds like a good idea, even if she’ll have to fight through the zombified departmental hordes to get it. She submitted her taxes three weeks ago, so at least she doesn’t have to mess around with that last-minute headache, though she is sure that any number of replacement headaches will pop up in its place. She does feel bad for her colleagues, even if they did bring this upon themselves. You’d think academics would be more organized, but honestly, they really aren’t.

Lucy hauls herself to her feet, picks up her mug, and heads out of her office, down the hall to the staff kitchen. Her friend Eleanor and Paul from Late Antique and Byzantine History are leaning by the coffeemaker, having an involved argument about someone amusingly named King Boso, but while this is potentially a fascinating subject, Lucy definitely needs them to move. She clears her throat. “Hate to interrupt, but I have a need.”

“Good timing, you just missed the stampede.” Eleanor empties the grounds out of the percolator and reaches for a new pack. “Decaf, I assume?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I haven’t been properly awake in weeks.”

“I thought your leave started on Friday.” Eleanor puts in the capsule and presses the button to start the cycle. “Or is it this Friday?”

“This Friday. I have no idea how I’ll finish everything.”

Paul, as if sensing that the conversation might devolve into girl talk (he’s a dazzling genius, but the kind with absolutely zero people skills who should just stay happily shut in a library learning dead languages), makes his excuses and scuttles out. Eleanor digs in the fridge. “The Huns just took the last of the half-and-half, but we have powdered creamer.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m drinking it black these days, anyway. Garcia’s rubbing off on me.”

Eleanor raises a slightly impish eyebrow. “Clearly.”

Lucy blushes, but can’t exactly deny it. She waits until the coffee has brewed, then tips it out into her mug. God, she can’t wait to drink the real stuff again (and see her feet, and walk without feeling like a lumbering juggernaut, and not have to pee every five minutes, and be woken up with auditions for the  Olympic gymnastics team, and all the rest, even if she will obviously then have different problems). She and Flynn were not exactly planning for her to get pregnant after six months of dating, but it happened, in the way that life tends to do, and they’re ready to make it work, as much as anyone can possibly be. Flynn is clearly beside himself with excitement and apprehension at the idea of becoming a father, and Lucy – well, she’s obviously had ambivalent feelings about kids in the past, to say the least. Felt it was something to do more to please her mom, rather than anything deeply desired. But dammit, something has changed. She’s thirty, she’s in a stable and loving relationship with a man who worships the ground she walks on, she has a good job, they’re financially stable (though again, better not to ask how exactly Flynn has chipped in), they’ve just bought a cute little bungalow/fixer-upper of a starter house, and there is the unspoken understanding that this summer, after the baby is born, they will probably get married. Lucy has grown up, or at least grown older. She’s ready for this. Their family. Them.

“You’re due the second week of May, right?” Eleanor asks, sitting down at the table across from her. “Picked out names yet?”

“We’re kind of waiting to see what feels right.” Lucy raises an eyebrow, as if to acknowledge that this is a very San Francisco thing to say, but while they know that the baby is a girl and that her middle name will be Maria, for Flynn’s mother, they still haven’t settled on a first name. “We have a couple ideas, but nothing’s stuck quite yet. Item number one on things not to screw up for your kid, huh?”

“You’ll be fine,” Eleanor says. “Garcia’s a little. . . rough around the edges, but anyone can see that he adores you. And he’s gorgeous, and a medieval history nut. Clear sign of good taste.”

Lucy snorts. “Hey now. He’s definitely taken.”

“Trust me, I know.” Eleanor raises both hands in mock surrender. “Honestly, though, you two are one of the best couples I know. Lucy Junior is going to be so lucky to have you as parents. But – ” She pauses, well aware it’s a delicate topic. “Your mom come around yet?”

Lucy grimaces. Amy is absolutely thrilled at the prospect of becoming a cool young aunt who can spoil the kid rotten, but her mother, well. . . let’s just say that Carol Preston looked at Flynn like he was a dead slug the first time she met him, and her reaction hasn’t gotten much warmer since. Flynn also clearly doesn’t like her; he’s coolly cordial to her for the sake of familial civility, but that’s it. Carol thinks that Noah was a far superior choice, that Lucy callously threw him away to get knocked up by some idiot ex-lawbreaking hooligan (Lucy loves him, but has to admit this is not an inaccurate description) and that while she’s prepared to have a relationship with her granddaughter, Flynn should definitely not think that applies to him. Lucy gets the feeling that Carol will just pretend Flynn does not exist, as if she closes her eyes and blinks hard, he might happily vanish. For his part, Flynn thinks it’s rich of Carol to assume that she gets to have a relationship with their daughter at all, given what she did to her own. As Lucy’s pregnancy has progressed, they seem to be getting farther apart, rather than closer. They haven’t been in the same room since Flynn and Lucy broke the news.

Eleanor can see the answer on her face, and winces in sympathy. “Shit,” she says. “I’m sorry, Lucy. Forget I asked. That sucks.”

“It’s what it is.” Lucy tries to keep her tone light. “Sometimes people don’t like each other. I’m sure Mom and Flynn will work it out.” She pauses. “Eventually.”

“They’re both very stubborn, bossy people with strong opinions,” Eleanor says. “Usually doesn’t mix well. But hey, sure, maybe they bury the hatchet when the kid arrives, let’s think positive. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, Eleanor, thanks. I really need to get my stuff ready for this committee meeting. Then I can come back and tackle the In-Tray of Death.” Lucy finishes her fake coffee in a few more swallows, puts the mug in the sink (cheerily ignoring the “Wash Your Own Dishes Please!” sign taped above it) and waddles back to her office. She gets her dossier of papers together, winces as sharp heels trod her spleen, and gives her side a poke. Then, feeling like a barge needing a tugboat to reverse, she heads for the meeting. Since she’s a small woman, it feels like her belly precedes her everywhere by about two feet. Maybe they can tie on a flasher.

Once that’s done with, and they’ve narrowed the overall shortlist of candidates from twelve names to ten (so, a productive use of everyone’s time, then), Lucy chats with the department chair, accepts his congratulations on her impending arrival, and then makes her escape before Debbie from student services can bustle over with her latest round of well-meant advice about what Lucy should be doing at this stage. Once the morning sickness stopped, Lucy hasn’t minded it too much, but she is not a fan of the (in her opinion, frankly creepy) Mommy Culture that surrounds it. No, she is not going to eat her placenta, or take tasteful black-and-white bump pictures. You will not catch her dead at a gender reveal party, she accepted a baby shower but only a small one with a few women, and the “my labor was TEN HOURS with NO PAINKILLERS!” kind of talk makes her run for the hills. This is 2013. Lucy will have all the drugs, thank you, she doesn’t think a natural water birth is the only proper and fulfilling way for her child to enter the world, she isn’t going to start a blog detailing their toilet training milestones, and the breastfeeding wars make her wonder if these people have real hobbies. Not to bag on women who do it that way, of course, and there have been a few times (thanks to hormones) that Lucy has found herself genuinely weepy over the Miracle of Life. But still. She is, at heart, just too practical.

She rounds the corner into the department reception area, stops, and grins at the sight of Garcia Flynn holding a large and greasy bag from her favorite sandwich shop and looking too tall for the room. (Which, to be fair, is most rooms.) There is paint in his hair, so he’s probably been working on the house again. It’s livable, but they’re still trying to get the finishing touches out of the way before their time becomes unavoidably caught up in caring for a newborn. The nursery is mostly done, decorated in tasteful, gender-neutral colors (Lucy has nothing against pink, but she’s also not slapping it everywhere), and she clears her throat. “Hey, you.”

Flynn starts, nearly drops the sandwich bag, then comes over for a kiss, which is even more of a cumbersome business than usual. The other nice thing about this is that Lucy has not had to lift a finger at home for months; Flynn waits on her hand and foot. He hasn’t been patronizing about it, just that he seems to know what she will need before she does, and makes it available as swiftly and conveniently as possible. He does his best not to hover, fully aware that she is a grown woman and can handle this herself, and that he is decidedly of secondary importance in whose opinion matters the most. Still, he almost never is more than three feet from her side, is usually touching her even with just a finger or the back of his hand, and gets jumpy if she’s out of sight for too long and he doesn’t know why. It must be really hard to adjust from “permanent outlaw on the run from international terrorist organization” to “suburban dad-to-be in loving relationship and DIY home refurbisher,” so Lucy tries to be understanding.

“Hey,” Flynn says, when he’s straightened up. “Free for lunch?”

“Yeah.” Lucy links her arm in his, and they walk out to the foyer, down the stairs, and out into the sunny midmorning. Campus is busy with its usual commerce, and they walk until they find a shady spot under a tree. Sitting, especially on the ground, is a production, so Lucy takes Flynn’s hand and does so with care. Once he’s joined her, he opens the sandwich bag and offers hers, as she leans against the trunk with a groan. “Yep. Ready for this to be over.”

“Only what? Three more weeks?” Flynn says that as if he hasn’t been watching the calendar as anxiously as her, and Lucy gives him a tolerant my-husband-is-an-idiot look. Well, basically her husband. He’s had a bag packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice since month seven. “Your sister was over to drop off the last things from the shower. Helped with a bit of the painting. Oh, and she says your mother isn’t feeling as well again. Watch her announce that the cancer is returned on the very day you go into the hospital.”

Lucy glances at him sidelong. Flynn doesn’t make much of a secret that he can’t stand Carol, but for Lucy’s sake, he rarely speaks this angrily about her. “Garcia, if – if it does come back, she can’t control that. I know things between you two aren’t the best, but – ”

Flynn snorts, taking a bite of his sandwich and doing that head-turn thing he always does in crowded public places, scanning for threats. He still carries a gun, even if only a small one, and he has definitely terrified people he thinks are following them too carefully or staring too long. It’s that fine line between remaining vigilant for Rittenhouse, and turning into a full-on paranoid lunatic who rants at rosebushes. He’s mostly managing it, though as her due date gets closer, he seems to be more on edge. But they’ve bought a house under their real names, they’ve been a normal couple, they’ve opened bank accounts and phone plans and whatever else. There have been plenty of opportunities for Flynn to ping in the system, to draw the attention of the omniscient electronic overlords, but nothing. Smooth sailing.

Flynn himself is suspicious of this, thinks it’s too good to be true, but Lucy (if perhaps naively) is holding onto the hope that he just disguised his tracks well enough with all his false identities that nothing has managed to stick to his real one. It has been over a year of domestic bliss. They’re expecting a baby. Surely if Rittenhouse was going to strike by now, they would have done it. Wouldn’t they? They need to be smart about this, of course, and Lucy has battled the ever-present anxiety that they are doing a child a tremendous disservice by bringing it into the world with no sure guarantee of safety, but then, no parent can give that to any child. There could be a car accident, or some pedo at the playground, or falling out of a tree, or. . .or. . . (yes, Lucy has spent too much time aware of all the various things that could happen). How does anyone ever have children, to give them this world and let them go? Who knows. She still doesn’t.

“Hey,” Flynn says gruffly, drawn out of his anger at Carol by sensing her melancholy. He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing it with both of his. “Lucy? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Lucy musters a smile. “I just hope you’re wrong. She’s still my mother, I’m her daughter. I don’t want the day I have ours to be mixed up with losing her somehow.”

Flynn coughs, as if knowing that badmouthing your mother-in-law to your wife’s face never goes well, and changes the subject. Finally he says, “I should walk you back. You have a lot to finish. So do I.”

“Oh?” Lucy takes both his hands and allows him to winch her to her feet. “More than just the house?”

Flynn glances both ways and lowers his voice. “I promised Wyatt a name,” he says. “I still haven’t given it to him yet. And I’m quite sure we both remember that.”

Lucy starts to say something, then stops. Yes, she supposes, they do. Wyatt fulfilled his part of the bargain to the letter, took the fall for them, even if he got out of jail quickly. He’s stayed in the Bay Area, in fact – has become roommates with Rufus Carlin, the techie at Mason Industries who Flynn threatened for information. (Lucy does judge her beloved’s life choices, like most people, but there you have it.) He’s done this because there still has been no news whatsoever on his wife. Jessica Logan has been missing over a year, it’s clear she either ran off to start a new life in Rio or she’s dead in some drainage ditch, but either way, she’s not coming home. But without a body, without any firm closure, there must still be that awful, tiny itch of hope in the back of Wyatt’s mind. Maybe she is trapped somewhere, held in some lunatic’s basement. Maybe she’ll escape and come home.

Lucy isn’t sure if she should try to visit or not, drop in for casual catch-ups or what have you. Wyatt did them a major favor, she can understand why Flynn still feels obliged to come up with his end of the bargain. Still, the whole point is that they weren’t seen together, and. . . well. She isn’t sure if Wyatt wants to see her pink-cheeked, doe-eyed, and bulgingly pregnant, in the middle of the domestic life he himself has lost, with the guy he likewise still isn’t very fond of. It just seems like it might be insult to injury.

She and Flynn don’t talk much on the way back to her office, as Lucy eyes the stairs but decides that since she gets winded on flat surfaces, she can wait a little longer to be an exercise hero. But as he’s kissing her at her door, she grabs hold of his arm. “Whatever you’re digging up for Wyatt, however you’re going about it – you’re being careful?”

This is always a relative question with Flynn, and she is well aware that he’s not collecting evidence like a Boy Scout earning merit badges. Knows that he might be kicking tires and turning rocks, nicely or otherwise. She isn’t even asking for the full truth of what he’s doing. Just enough to put her mind at ease.

Flynn’s brow creases briefly, but he brushes a thumb across her chin in a quick, tender gesture. “Of course. I’ll see you later, hey?”

Lucy nods, bites her lip, then pulls his head down for one more kiss, just because. He lets go and blows her one last extra over his shoulder, because it turns out that this terrifying murder machine in love is the softest imaginable thing in the universe. Lucy watches him go, then takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. Marches back into her office, and gets to work.

She manages to make at least some sort of dent in her in-tray, and is just wondering if she wants to go to a conference at the University of Virginia in August (it sounds really interesting, but Charlottesville in August is going to be unbearably hot, and the last time she stayed on the Lawn, there was no air conditioning) when there’s a rap on her door. Then, before she has answered – it’s  not her office hour, she wasn’t expecting anyone – it opens. “Lucy?”

It takes a moment for her brain to process this. Then it connects, it burns through her, and she leaps awkwardly to her feet, almost knocking over her office chair and looking around in search of something she can grab. Her heart is racing, pounding in her mouth, which is half-open as if to scream, and her chest seizes up. She backs away. “You!”

“Lucy, please.” Benjamin Cahill holds out both hands as if to pacify a wild animal. He’s casually dressed in jeans and blazer and plaid shirt, looks like he has just strolled down from another department for a professional chat. “Don’t be alarmed.”

“Don’t be alarmed?” Lucy eyes her phone, on the desk, and wonders if she can call Flynn in time, if he’s anywhere near here and can come racing back. If he discovers Cahill in here, it’s going to get messy, and she almost doesn’t care. “How dare you show your face.”

“Lucy.” Cahill looks pained. Almost genuinely. “I haven’t come to hurt you.”

“So you’ve come to deliver more veiled threats about Rittenhouse, or – or tell me that your offer stands, or – ” Lucy’s grip tightens on the back of her chair. “You have to understand there is absolutely no way in the world I am pleased to see you. Leave, or I’m calling campus security.”

“I’m sorry for causing you stress,” Cahill says. “I’m sure you don’t need it right now. I’ve heard about your happy news, on the grapevine.” He nods at her, as Lucy crosses her arms protectively over her swollen stomach. “I just wanted to let you know once and for all that you’re safe. I know things were. . . mismanaged, before. But that’s all been called off. A little present for my grandchild. Rittenhouse may do some things you don’t understand, but it’s about family. We’ve always believed that. A time for a fresh start, and mending fences.”

Grandchild. Lucy hates hearing that word in his mouth, a word to which he has no right. “So what? You have been spying on me this whole time, but you’ll stop because – what, only now that I’m procreating I have value as a woman to you people? The way men only care about rape because ‘I have a wife and daughter?’ Is that it?”

“No, no.” Cahill manages to keep smiling. It’s not at all comforting. “Honestly. I wanted to ease your mind. You’re in the clear. You’ve probably been wondering. If you really can’t forgive me, I’ll understand, but there you have it. Your whole life.”

Lucy keeps staring at him tensely, heart hammering in her mouth. “What do you really want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything. I just wanted to see how you were doing, if you were well. As I said.” Cahill shrugs. “It’s just a time for new beginnings all around. I’ll let you get on with your day, Lucy. Bye now.”

With that, he smiles and steps out of the room, leaving Lucy shaky-kneed, dry-mouthed, and still tempted to call campus security and order them not to let Cahill anywhere near the history department again. Was that supposed to be a warning, a veiled insinuation that he could return the surveillance or whatever else? Do she and Flynn owe their happy life thus far purely to the fact that Rittenhouse is letting them have it, was that the takeaway? Is there going to be a second part of this conversation later, where Cahill returns and lets her know what the price is, if she wants to keep this sweet little deal? Turning over new leaves, her ass. If that was supposed to reassure her, it has comprehensively done the opposite.

Lucy’s concentration is shot, she can’t focus for the rest of the day, and she locks up her office and jumps a foot when she sees the janitor at the end of the hall. She drives home in distraction, goes inside, and Flynn, who has been stirring something on the stove, drops the spoon with a clatter at the sight of her face. He almost rushes over and grabs both her hands. “Lucy? Lucy!”

“I’m all right,” Lucy says faintly, even as it is relatively apparent that she is not. “It’s – I’m just – ”

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” Flynn starts looking around for his bag. “Should I call the midwife?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s – ” Lucy inhales a rattling breath, and allows him to sit her down on the couch. “Benjamin Cahill came by campus this afternoon. After you left.”

Flynn’s face goes blank, then thunderous. “He what?”

Lucy explains, feeling like she’s making a bad job of it, stumbling over her words. Flynn’s expression goes darker and darker, and she doesn’t need to ask to see that his conclusions over it are the same as hers. He gets to his feet and starts pacing as restlessly as a caged tiger, running both hands over his face and swearing. “It was a threat,” he says. “It was definitely a threat. He knew you were expecting a baby, someone told him, or they’ve been keeping an eye on us. They’re obsessed with bloodlines, they believe Rittenhouse has a right to pass on its superior genes, like any other creepy cult eugenics fanatics. Probably think you’re having some – some mongrel half-breed, and they have to – ”

“Garcia, stop.” Lucy reaches for his hand, trying to tow him back to the couch and next to her, but he doesn’t appear to notice. “Garcia, stop.”

She doesn’t know what she’s saying – stop with the pacing, stop with the paranoia, don’t stop because it’s not paranoia, stop and come back here and hold me – but it cuts through some of his mania. He halts in his tracks, looking at her with rumpled hair and anguished eyes, the thought vibrating in the air around him that he cannot protect her or their daughter, and this is exactly their worst fear coming true. There’s a long pause, and then he whirls on his heel. “I need to go out. Ask a few questions. See what I can turn up.”

“Now?” Lucy stands up with a grimace. “You’re really going to rush out and – look, I think it was a trick just as much as you do, but if you take the bait, if they can frame it as they’ve changed but you haven’t, they give you a fresh chance and you throw it away – ”

“They’re not really giving us a chance, now, are they?” Flynn doesn’t look at her as he answers, because he’s already halfway across the room, clearly heading upstairs to get his gun out of the safe. “It’s a carnival shell game, any way they set it up, we lose! And I’m not sitting and waiting for that to happen!”

“Garcia!” Lucy starts heaving herself up the stairs. She should have guessed he’d react like this, and she almost wonders if she should have told him, but obviously she never could (or would have) lied. “Garcia, please!”

She reaches their bedroom, which he is already tearing apart, pulling his gun and its holster out of the safe, slamming extra clips into his belt, looking wild-eyed and frightening. She grabs at his arms, wrestling him to a halt like a runaway bus, as she ends up with her back against the wall from the sheer force of his momentum. She grips his face in her hands, pulling him down to look at her. “Don’t,” she says, scared and small. “Don’t.”

He closes his eyes, shuddering out a deeply pained breath. He passes a hand over his face, trying to control himself, realizing that he’s scared her and clearly ashamed of it. “I’m sorry,” he says, struggling to modulate his tone. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I just – I have to go, I can’t just sit here and pretend it’ll be better in the morning. I’ve spent two years chasing these people, I know what they can do. I’m not – I’m not – letting that happen. Call Amy to come over and stay with you, turn on the house alarm, don’t let anyone in. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Lucy doesn’t answer at once. Her hands tighten on his face, even as she slowly forces them to let go. Then she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her as close as he can. “Please,” she says shakily. “Please be back in the morning.”

He nods, then lets go of her, striding down the hall to the stairs as if knowing it’ll be too hard for both of them if he looks back one more time. She stands at the top, watching him. Hears the door open, and shut, and hears his car start. Tires crunch in the driveway, headlights swing across the front foyer as he reverses, and then he’s gone.

Lucy presses her knuckles to her mouth, holding back a sob. Just for a moment. Then she shakes herself – I’m fine, I’m fine – and goes to get her phone.

Flynn’s head is a roaring, whirling maelstrom for at least the first twenty minutes out. He feels like he’s been electrified, he can’t stop or slow, he drives well past the speed limit, and he’s lucky not to be pulled over. He has a personal black site where he keeps his Rittenhouse materials, well away from the house, as he’s obviously not going to take any chances with that being raided. It’s north, up in the woods, and it has all the files he’s kept, the intel he’s collected – he’s not letting those two years go to waste, and he still adds to it where he can. He’s going to go up there and check all the things that might have pinged, run all the diagnostics and pull anything he can off whatever server he can think of. There has to be chatter, there has to be traffic. Some kind of reference to whatever covert surveillance operation that Rittenhouse has to have been running. He’s looked for everything, he’s never really stopped – how could they have fooled him?

The urge to drive to another location in Marin County – the Rittenhouse mansion in the woods where Cahill took Lucy the first time – and just go in guns blazing, try to take out anyone who’s up there for an evil retreat, is considerable. Flynn knows he can’t, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to. Every anxiety, every lurking terror from every time he’s woken up and looked at Lucy sleeping, the covers sloped over her stomach, has been triggered at once, and it’s a battle to keep his head clear enough as it is. He’s going to ask her to marry him. Should probably have done it before, but – well, one thing at a time. He knows he loves her with his entire mind and heart and soul, and if she came back to him from the future, well. Something must have happened there.

(But what if it doesn’t?)

(What if Rittenhouse takes his wife – well, soon, anyway – and his daughter away from him? What if he loves two people more than anything else on earth, and he loses them? After all this, after everything?)

(He’s not brave enough, he’s not strong enough, to stand that without going mad.)

Flynn’s hands are almost vibrating on the wheel, and he accelerates again. He’s on the Bayshore Freeway, as it happens, the stretch that runs right alongside the Bay between South San Fran and Little Hollywood. He saved Lucy not twenty miles from here, just over ten years ago. Strange that that was the moment that connected them so inextricably, that wound them up where they are, and –

He sees headlights too late. Just out of the corner of his eye.

Hears the screech, and the swerve. Then the crash.

Then there’s nothing but black water below him, and the car is falling.

[knifeshoeoreofight]

Could you please do #8 roommates AU for sidgeno I love all the stuff you do and I absolutely adore all of your prompt fills

Thank you!  This one ran away with me a little, they aren’t all going to be this long. 

Rooming with Evgeni Malkin has made Sid really, really good at silencing charms. Geno’s loud, his music is louder, his friends are the loudest. And the people he brings home? Well. Geno’s apparently a very attentive and thorough lover. Fantastic. Good for him. Either that or one has to reach a certain, uh, ecstatic decibel level, in order to sleep with Evgeni Malkin. Anyway.

Sid isn’t jealous. He’s not. It’s just disruptive. So he stays in his bedroom and casts the strongest silencing charms he knows, curling up in his bed, feeling horribly lonely in his little bubble of roaring silence.

From the very first day they’d met and moved into the suite they share at the Québec Académie de Magie, Sid had both been delighted and terrified at the reality of sharing living space with Geno. He’s exactly Sid’s physical type— big all over, with dark hair and warm eyes, but he’s also sweet, and hilarious, and Sid’s magic seems to settle and calm in response to Geno’s like it’s never done for anyone, ever.

Sid, Maritime Wunderkind, under a microscope from the time he was small, is used to keeping such a tight seal on both his emotions and his power that in the past, he’d been prone to what he’d only been able to call magical explosions. They came with enough warning and buildup that he’d always been able to get away from everyone, to fall to pieces in private, but they were awful. He remembers well sitting in a ring of melted snow and scorched earth deep in the woods behind his parent’s house, tears rolling down his cheeks as sparks fizzle through his hair and crackle along his skin.

He still gets the itch now, feels it crawling through him, power roiling, but somehow, Geno always seems to do or say the right thing to help Sid channel and work out the energy. Sid isn’t quite sure if Geno is doing it on purpose or if it’s just a series of lucky coincidences, but he appreciates it all the same.

He’ll be feeling shitty, energy building, and Geno will ask him to spot him in the gym or to play a loud and ferocious round of whatever his current favorite video game is. Or they’ll go out and play shinny, which is the best of all, blades singing along the ice and the wind blowing snow into their eyes.

Sid will exhaust himself with whatever they’re doing, and by the time they head back home, sweaty and bickering because they’re both sore losers, he’ll feel settled again, magic curled contentedly in his core like a sleeping cat.

It’s been harder, lately. Being kind of in love with Geno and needing to pretend not to be is a strain. Sid’s magic is prone to weirdness these days. He’ll dream about Geno and wake up with snow falling gently over his bed, or a smell in the air like brand new hockey pucks and fresh ice. One time after he collides with Geno in the hallway when Geno’s only in a towel, Sid has to lock himself in the bathroom until his magic calms down and stops manifesting glowing points of light that flutter about his head like a crown of fireflies.

It’s a problem. Because Geno seems to have no interest in Sid that way, at all. Sid’s never even caught him looking at Sid’s ass, which even straight or uninterested parties seem to have a hard time not looking at. So Geno must be beyond uninterested.

So Sid tries to wrangle his magic and tries to ignore Geno’s…everything…as best he can.

Until the day where everything seems to go wrong. His magic feels awful, to begin with, pulsing and angry, feeding on his pining and intensified by his trying to tamp everything down inside himself. It’s rainy, and miserable, and a thousand little things go wrong throughout the day.

The absolute last straw is when he overhears two people talking, a study carrel away from him in the library. It’s a girl and a guy, and they’re apparently comparing notes after having both slept with Geno.  The way they talk about him infuriates Sid. The girl makes fun of his accent and the boy talks about him like the only thing good about him is his easiness and his huge dick.

“Fucking assholes,” Sid spits at them, and books it out of there before his magic explodes.

He makes it home, but barely. He’s got wards on his room that could contain a small bomb, so he falls in the door and slams it behind him, ignoring Geno’s surprised shout of inquiry from the living room.  

It’s ice this time, crystals coating his furniture and his floor, climbing the walls. It’s bone chillingly cold, and Sid can feel his extremities start to go numb. He wants to stop it but he’s not sure how. How do you stop heartache? You can’t, you just have to ride through it. So he curls up in the middle of his floor, and waits.

Who knows what would have happened if the wards and charms on his room hadn’t suddenly shredded like spider webs, allowing him to hear Geno pounding on his door, calling for him. He can feel the wash of Geno’s magic as it takes down Sid’s wards.

“Leave me alone,” Sid croaks, and Geno swears.

“Not good, Sid,” he says. “I can tell you not okay. Please.” His tone turns pleading. “Please Sid. Don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sid manages to rise, ice crackling and falling off of him in shards. Geno’s eyes widen when he opens the door.

“Fuck, Sid,” he says sounding wrecked. “What happen, baby? What made you do this?” Sid blinks up at him as Geno goes into motion throwing a blanket around Sid’s shoulders and weaving a warming hex into the air around Sid’s body. He wonders if he’s confused, or if Geno is, or if maybe he only imagined the “baby”.

They end up on the couch, Sid wrapped up in at least three blankets, leaning against Geno as he tenderly brings a mug of steaming tea up to Sid’s blue-tinged lips. The warming hex is working, but it’s taking a while to do its job.

Sid drifts, enjoying resting his head on Geno’s shoulder and feeling Geno card his fingers through Sid’s hair with his free hand.

“What happen, Sid,” Geno asks again, and Sid figures he ought to at least explain a little, if not the root cause.

“I was unhappy,” he says. “My magic does this sometimes, I don’t know if you noticed.”

“Of course I’m notice,” Geno says. “Why do you think I’m try to help you get energy out?”

“Oh,” Sid says softly. “I thought you might have been doing all of that on purpose.”

“Dumbass,” Geno says to him, sounding affectionate. He prods a finger into Sid’s forehead. Sid sigh and snuggles further into him. “Why you so sad, Sid?” Geno asks, and he sounds so concerned and gentle that Sid wants to cry.

“Wanted something that isn’t mine,” he says. Geno makes a soft, wounded sound. They sit in silence for a moment. Sid can almost feel his own toes again. Then—

“Wish you let me give,” Geno says so quietly Sid isn’t sure if he mean to say it at all. “Would give you anything you asked for.”

Sid tilts his head to look up at Geno, incredulous. “What does that even mean, Geno?”

Geno smiles at him, eyes soft and sad. “Little bit jealous, Sid. Wish you wanting me, you know?”

This time it’s Sid’s turn to make a noise like he’s been hurt. He sits up, Geno’s duvet falling off his shoulders. “But you— all of the people you bring over—”

“One night stands,” Geno says with a shrug he’s clearly trying to make casual. “Distract from what I really want.”

“I’m not the only one here who’s a complete dumbass,” Sid says after an incredulous moment, before diving in to set his mouth on Geno’s, the kiss desperate and punishing. Geno kisses him back immediately, with a shocked groan from far back in his throat. Then Geno’s hands are on Sid’s body, rucking up his shirt and sliding across his chest, his shoulders.

Sid breaks the kiss to pant for air, and to arch into Geno’s touch. “Crazy about you,” he manages to says, before Geno bears him down into the couch, and cover’s Sid’s body with his own.

“Crazier,” Geno says, because they’re always going to be competitive fucks, and smiles at Sid like he’s everything good in the world. But he blinks then, distracted, and looks around them at the hundreds of tiny lights dancing in the air around them. “What this, Sid?”

“Um…” Sid says. “I kind of love you?”

Geno’s answering smile is a magic of its own, and he leans down to kiss Sid’s neck. “Me too,” gets murmured into Sid’s skin as golden light floods the room around them.