#but on the other hand we already know that despite the fact that everyone benefits from an earth that is not actively dying

[xadnem]

Hey I don't want to sound like a conspiratorial dickbag but that plan of making the free national weather services cost money would somewhat impede the general public's awareness of climate change.

[talesofesther]

make it taste like love

Loki x Reader

Summary: You felt him before you even met him. And despite the pain he carried around, his soul was one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen.

A/N: A spur-of-the-moment idea that I simply couldn't ignore. I really hope you guys enjoy it, and yes I'm working on part two of my series with Loki as well. <3

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

The battle had left its mark on everyone, both physically and mentally. All the lives that were lost wouldn't be brought back. But everyone took solace in the fact that Thanos and his army were no longer a threat. And now, it was a time for rebuilding.

Wakanda's grassland was a battlefield. Bodies of both friend and foe lay scattered on the ground. The mourning loomed heavy in the air, you could feel it weighing down on your chest, your throat, and lungs. It was suffocating, prickling into your skin like needles. Yet you still walked, your boots crushing the grass underneath while you avoided stepping on stretched arms and legs, you needed to make sure no one else remained left behind.

A few feet away, the mad titan who once threatened the entire universe lay lifeless on the ground, his head disconnected from his body. For him, you felt no pity.

King T'Challa was both happy and sad to see you and the others leave. Happy, because it meant the end of a war; sad, because of having to say farewell to dear friends. But you, Steve, Natasha, and Banner were needed back in town, back at the Avengers compound; to welcome Tony back on earth, and because Thanos' attack had reverberated in many other places. It seemed like the Avengers were back in the game.

─── ·❆· ───

This morning was a gloomy one. Grey skies peeked behind your curtains in the early hours of the day, maybe it would rain soon. It's been two weeks since the battle, and you were glad to see that most people were recovering; each in their own way, but recovering nonetheless.

You were already up when the clock hit 7:30 AM, holding a warm cup of coffee between your hands, and staring out into the compound's driveway and past the treeline through the big windows of the kitchen. Today would be the day that Thor came back, he'd been helping with the settling of his people in New Asgard until now, but you've heard about him not wanting to be king anymore. You were happy for him, you never did think that a ruler's life suited him anyway—and you missed your friend.

"He gets one chance, Rogers. One chance and that's it." Tony's voice suddenly caught your attention as he stepped into the kitchen, you turned your back to the window so you could watch as your resident Iron Man poured himself a cup of coffee without looking at his mug. Steve was right beside him, his hands on his hips as he sighed quietly, already all too used to Tony's moods.

"Yes, one chance, he proved himself enough by helping us fight against Thanos, I suppose we owe him the benefit of the doubt," Steve agreed, still holding his voice calm.

With a smirk on your lips, you approached your teammates. "What's going on, guys?" You leaned on the kitchen island, taking a sip of your coffee.

Tony ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his expression less than pleased as he took a sip of his own coffee before saying; "point break is bringing his beloved brother to our home." He shrugged, and said in a quieter tone, "Says he changed or something."

"Loki will be staying with us?" You raised an eyebrow. The attack on New York happened before you joined the team, but you were familiar enough with it to be wary of Thor's brother, even if Thor did speak more nicely of him recently. Still, you had never actually met Loki to form your own opinion.

"That's… to be decided," Tony grumbled, shooting a glance toward Steve. "But yes, pretty much. And, by the way, Strange wasn't happy about having reindeer games back in the city either."

"Wow, you guys finally agree on something," you snickered.

Tony mouthed a 'don't' to you, before Steve said; "Strange knows we'll handle it if anything happens, but Thor vouches for him, so…"

You gave Steve a soft smile, and as much as you understood Tony's wariness, you agreed with the Captain. Loki didn't have the best of pasts with the City, but his help in the recent battle was one of many game-changers. He deserved a second chance.

Strangely enough, you found yourself excited to meet the God of Mischief. It was in your nature to analyze people, watch them from afar, and learn about the things they'd rather not say out loud. And someone like Loki, who had both once tried to take over your planet and now helped in saving it, was bound to raise some curiosity.

No more than an hour passed before you heard Thor's strong voice all the way from the living room. A small smile instantly came to your lips as you discarded your book, got up from the couch, and put on your slippers, rushing to the main doors to greet him.

Before you could turn the last corner, however, you came to an abrupt halt. Your breath got caught up in your throat and you had to lean back on the wall for support. Clutching the fabric of your shirt right above your heart, you were glad that this particular hallway was currently empty.

You could hear Thor's voice just around the corner, Tony was there too, but their words were faint and far away. Your vision was suddenly a little blurry, and underneath your palm you could feel your heart beating frantically.

See, this was nothing that hadn't happened before, after all, you are an empath. But a feeling this heavy rarely comes unannounced, unwanted. It briefly reminded you of when you first discovered your power, when you had no control and could pick up on pain, anger, joy, and pleasure that were not your own even if you didn't want to. Yet now, after years of living with it, you had learned to dose your perception of the feelings around you; now, when you weren't willingly focusing, other people's emotions felt more like a gentle whisper, a gush of chilly wind on your skin—something you were able to ignore if you wanted to.

But this overwhelming sadness; this emptiness, and loss, and pain; it came to you with such force that you were not able to block out. Seconds felt like hours, until the surprise of the new feeling passed and you took back control. Whispers of it remained, lurking in your stomach and in the back of your throat, but with a bit of extra focus, you were able to handle it.

And once your mind was finally clear again, it hit you. Who did you catch these feelings from?

You took a step around the corner cautiously, hands buried in your pockets as your eyes roamed your surroundings. There was no one around besides Tony, Thor, and Loki.

You knew it right away. You were familiar with the emotions radiating from Tony and Thor; but him, the raven-haired trickster, he was new, and if you didn't feel empathy for him before, you did now.

Loki held himself immaculately, a straight posture and a serene expression on his face. You had no idea how he did it, how he was able to hold all of those feelings in and still look so well put together; because one glance into his soul and you already felt like crying.

There was a light drizzle falling outside, maybe that's why Loki's black blazer seemed to be shining under the bright lights of the entrance hall. His eyes—bright and ocean-green—were settled on you; the realization got you feeling hyperaware of each movement you made. Even his gaze was heavy.

Thor's booming voice calling your name captured your attention then, he had a big smile on his face and before you knew it he already had your feet off the floor as he held you in a hug.

You laughed against his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight and telling him all about how much you missed him. Still, when you let go, your eyes found Loki's again, he hadn't stopped looking at you once.

─── ·❆· ───

The opinions about Loki's presence in the compound were mixed, but most of your teammates seemed fine with it; truth be told, no one paid much attention to him. As you'd expected, Loki's room was on your floor, because that's where Thor stayed too; as well as Tony, Natasha, and Yelena.

It's been a few days since his arrival, yet you haven't had the opportunity to properly speak with him, alone. But you've been feeling him a lot. Whether it was you subconsciously focusing on him more, or something else, it seemed like your body was more in tune and connected with his than you've ever been with anyone else. You picked up on a few of his emotions even if you weren't actively trying to; you felt his bouts of uneasiness when someone would stare at him for too long, you felt his gentle serenity whenever he'd sit near the windows to read a book, you felt his sparks of joy when people greeted him with a good morning or asked if he'd want coffee; but most of all, you still felt that lingering sadness that followed him everywhere he went, a weight he seemed to be all too used to having around.

In some ways, you felt as if you were invading his privacy, and that bothered you. During the day you tried to keep your mind as busy as you could to keep yourself from feeling him; in the late hours of the night though, when you were trying to sleep, there wasn't much you could do.

You have been tossing and turning in bed for probably about two hours now, drifting in and out of sleep. The crescent moon just outside your window seemed to be taunting you, amused with your misfortune. You scoffed as you glared at the natural satellite—great, now you were arguing with the cosmos.

Loki was having a nightmare. You could tell by the rapid beating of his heart and the cold sweat running down his forehead—your abilities went way beyond simply feeling other people's emotions, but sometimes you wished they wouldn't. It's not the first time that you've felt Loki's restless sleep in the short time he's been here. Your heart ached for him; it got you wanting to alleviate his pain.

But you couldn't do that, so you got up from your bed, put on your fluffy slippers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. The air outside was chilly, biting at your warm skin and making you shiver. At this hour of the night, the compound was completely dark and quiet, a big contrast to how it was when the sun was up. You asked Friday to turn on one of the lights in the kitchen, giving the space a dim-lit look as the single light bled into the adjacent living room.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, humming the lyrics of the song stuck in your head as you reached for the upper cabinet to grab a mug so you could make yourself some tea. When you turned around again though, a gasp escaped your mouth and you nearly dropped the mug you were holding. You cursed quietly under your breath, placing a hand over your heart; if you weren't fully awake before, you sure were now. "You scared me," you muttered, trying a small smile.

The reason for your lack of sleep stood before you, with dark green slippers that matched his button-up pajama shirt, and his hair the messier you've ever seen it be. "Sorry, it was not my intention," Loki smirked back at you.

It hit you that this was finally the first time you were alone with him, and you'd been caught off guard. You tapped your mug, opening your lips but no words came out. Loki's eyes remained on you, unwavering, yet his gaze was so… soft, gentle even; his eyebrows weren't creased and he patiently waited for you with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. He didn't look like the god you usually saw roaming the halls during the day.

"It's alright. I was just making tea," you said finally, gesturing to your mug, "would you like me to make one for you too?"

Loki's surprise at your offer was so great that you felt it in your bones. What was he expecting you to do?

His lips parted only slightly and he straightened his posture before saying; "I would- yes, I would like that."

You couldn't help the full smile that came to your lips and crinkled the side of your eyes, "great, sit down, it'll be ready in just a moment."

The warm mug between your hands warmed up your skin. It felt nice, sitting like this with Loki; in a quiet kitchen with only you and him, and just the lonely light to your left softly highlighting his features in front of you. It was a peaceful silence, and you couldn't help but check if he felt it too.

The rhythm of his heart was calm, his soul felt light and at ease; not completely, but the most you've ever felt from him.

"Why are you here?" His sultry voice snapped you back to reality.

"Uh- I'm sorry?" You frowned.

"Why are you here, if I may ask?" Loki tilted his head amusedly, his fingers tracing the brim of his mug. "Thor mentioned you had… abilities, but he never specified what they are."

Now it was your turn to be surprised by his curiosity for you. "Well, to put it simply, I'm an empath," you told him.

Loki blinked, once, twice, at your response. He looked at you for a moment before inquiring further; "and to put it completely?"

You smirked then, folding your arms over the table. "I can feel people's emotions, if I want to; their anger, happiness, hesitation, fear. But I can also feel their heartbeats, the blood cursing through their bodies. I can tell when they're lying or telling the truth, if they're tired or hurt. And sometimes, I can influence those emotions," you paused, hesitating for a beat, "bring fear, or… take away pain."

Loki grew tense after learning of what you could do. To be fair, most people did at first, you were used to it. Be he felt different, his heartbeat sped up and stayed that way. He'd put his guard up, and it brought a pang of hurt to your chest.

"Are you always feeling everything then?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Gods, no," you breathed, "at first I did, and it was awful. But with time, I learned to control it." You tried smiling at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on his mug.

You bit your lower lip in nervousness. Looking past Loki and out the window, you could see the first signs of the sunrise peeking over the horizon, dark skies turning a soft lilac and blue; you'd been here longer than you realized.

When Loki glanced up at you again, his bright eyes still held sparks of that same softness from earlier. He pursed his lips in a smile; "thank you for the tea." And with that, he got up and left, leaving you in the company of the first birds who always sang in the mornings.

─── ·❆· ───

You made Loki nervous. It wasn't a bad kind of nervous, it was the kind that sped up his heart and made his cold hands feel clammy.

Out of everyone in the compound, you were the kindest. You'd always shoot him a smile whenever you'd pass by each other in the hallways; you'd always save a seat for him at the table; you always respected his silence whenever you came into the library and caught him reading his book, saying a quiet hello and nothing more, just sitting on one of the armchairs with your own book and allowing him to enjoy his moment, and more recently, your presence too.

When he'd finally learned of your abilities, he got apprehensive, worried even; that you'd pick up on whatever it was that he felt when he was near you, and it would drive you away.

So far, it hasn't happened yet.

The sun was out today, and with it, so was everyone else. In the spacious backyard of the compound, Steve was in charge of the barbecue, and Tony was in charge of the drinks. Natasha had sunglasses covering her eyes while she and Clint bickered over a game of cards; Yelena was sitting beside her sister at the lunch table, however, she seemed to be on Clint's side of the argument. Thor and Banner were laughing together as they made fun of Steve's cooking skills, who tried to defend himself by saying he wasn't actually done yet. Tony looked like he was trying to convince Bucky to drink a dubious-looking beverage, the latter didn't seem too keen on it.

And Loki watched them from afar, from the living room window of his floor. Thor had asked that he join them downstairs, saying something about how he should start trying to fit in and mingle, instead of just existing in the others' presence. Making friends wasn't Loki's forte; as much as he'd fight not to admit it, he was still working up the courage.

With a long sigh, Loki turned around and made his way to the place where he'd been spending most of his free time.

The compound's library was quite huge. One of the few rooms in the whole facility that had warm colors painting the walls and lacked the modern look; tall wooden shelves held thousands of books, a soft beige carpet covered the floor, and there were armchairs and sofas scattered in corners and in-between shelves creating comfortable, isolated nooks for reading. Loki's favorite spot was a worn armchair that stood near one of the big windows, it was surrounded by books that most people didn't read anymore, and the window itself overlooked the treeline in which the sun hid behind at the end of every day; sometimes as he sat there to read, it reminded him of his room back in Asgard.

Loki walked brushing his fingers over the spine of the old books, watching as dust particles danced in the sunlight. But as he rounded the shelf that led to his spot, he abruptly stopped in his tracks, feet glued to the carpet.

You sat cross-legged on the worn armchair, with a thick book lying in your lap that held all of your attention; the sun was shining right behind you, creating a halo above your head and bathing the strands of your hair in golden. You looked like something out of his favorite tale, more enchanting than all of the Midgard poetry books he's ever read.

It seemed like you two were making a habit of bumping into each other unexpectedly.

Loki gulped, squaring his shoulders. A beat passed, and then two, until you finally noticed him from the corner of your eyes. You looked up at him with your eyebrows softly raised in surprise, a gentle smile lifted the sides of your mouth; "Loki, hi."

"Hello," Loki greeted you slowly, his eyes shifting from the book in your lap to your eyes, "shouldn't you be out with the others, enjoying the sun?"

"Should I?" You narrowed your eyes, lazily closing your book and getting up from the armchair. "Shouldn't you?" You asked then, smirking as you raised an eyebrow and took a step towards him.

Loki's heart stumbled inside his chest, he breathed out a laugh. "I'm not big on hangouts."

You hummed, burying your hands in the pockets of your jeans. "Why is that?"

For a moment, Loki dwelled on whether to be honest or come up with an easy lie. But you were looking up at him with such delicacy, such attention, not a trace of hatred or judgment in your warm eyes. It almost looked as if you cared... about him.

Loki breathed in sharply through his nose, the words rolled off his tongue on their own; "I doubt many of your friends would enjoy my presence there."

You blinked up at him, lips parting before you told him quietly; "I would."

There was a distant burning behind Loki's eyes, his mouth felt dry. No one had ever rendered him completely speechless before, yet now, you had done just that. With his silence, you avoided his eyes and ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that he couldn't help but follow.

"And..." You continued, voice sweet as honey, traveling between the bookshelves in the secluded library, "We'll never know if we don't try, right?"

The way you referred to you and him as 'we' got a foreign feeling blossoming inside Loki's chest, all warm and tingly. When you offered him your hand, so you could guide him downstairs to meet the others, he took it.

─── ·❆· ───

After a full week of taking care of the whole city, Saturday nights were a time for having fun and relaxing; aka movie nights with the team. Everyone sat together in the main living room of the compound, Tony had labeled it 'mandatory bonding day'. The room itself was pretty spacious, dimly lit, with two big comfortable couches and a TV that almost covered the whole wall, and a small kitchen right beside it for easy snacks and drinks.

"Right, I'm thinking... Terminator." Tony suggested as he came from the kitchen with an extra large bowl of popcorn in his arms.

"We saw that one already," Steve complained as he fumbled with the remote.

"There are multiple ones," Tony said, smugly, as he plopped himself on the couch and threw popcorn in his mouth.

Thor, who sat beside you, suddenly perked up with a giddy smile on his face; "oh I've always enjoyed that one who has the girl with the long, magic hair." The god gestured to his own hair.

Tony gaped at him, his fingers holding the popcorn were frozen midair. "Tangled?" He exclaimed then, eyebrows raised, "You wanna watch Tangled? in my house?"

You fought to hide a smile. "Technically it's our house," you quipped, after all, you were to blame for Thor's love for the Disney movie.

"Why don't we just watch both? The night is still young," Yelena finally suggested from her spot by the corner of the couch.

As they continued bickering, your eyes finally caught sight of the one you'd been waiting for.

Loki walked into the living room quietly, his socked feet barely making any noise on the expensive flooring. His gaze found yours before he saw anything else in the room, and a gentle, shy smile appeared on his lips.

You'd grown very close, very fast. Loki had started seeking your presence more and more each passing day; during the mornings he'd wait for you with an extra cup of coffee in hand, during the missions it was already routine that you two were a pair, and during the night you never parted ways without him planting a kiss on your forehead first.

Never in your life had you met someone quite like him, who carried such a bruised heart and still managed to be so loving. It made you wonder if anyone had ever bothered to see how beautiful his soul was, for you had fallen in love with it before you even touched his skin.

You gently patted the vacant seat on your left side, lifting the thin blanket covering your legs so Loki could sit down, and once he did you draped part of it over his legs as well.

"What's today's punishment?" Loki smirked, making himself comfortable beside you. His shoulder flush with yours.

"Stop it, movie nights are nice. I know you secretly enjoy them too," you chuckled, bumping his knee with yours. His proximity raised goosebumps all over your skin, and if you weren't so focused on your own feelings, you would've felt how much Loki's heart was racing as well.

"I only come to these because you do too," Loki mumbled, his eyes focused on the TV and a frown appearing on his eyebrows as the first scenes from Tangled played on the screen.

Your breath caught on your throat. He had said it so casually, so easily. You wondered if he had even realized the weight of his own words. "Right," you whispered, a little breathless.

It didn't take long for the only light in the room to be the one coming from the TV. When Tangled hit the 45-minute mark, Tony was already snoring and Thor had finished two bowls of popcorn. You, however, were wide awake and fully aware of Loki's arm resting on the back of the couch. What a cliche move, you thought to yourself, your cheeks burning hot and biting back a smile.

Loki's face as he watched the movie was nothing short of comical, one would think he was watching a period drama; his lips hovering ever so slightly before he'd scoff at a musical scene, his eyes softening as the romance between Rapunzel and Flynn blossomed, the way he mindlessly played with the ends of your hair. You watched him more than you watched the movie, and you didn't miss the way he froze and gulped when you finally rested your head on his shoulder.

─── ·❆· ───

The day had started out fine; a cold yet sunny morning, your fingers brushing Loki's when he handed you your cup of coffee, no eminent trouble in the city, everything was normal and fine; until it took a turn for the worse.

You didn't hear the fight, you didn't know exactly what caused it, but you felt it immediately. Anger, hurt, and pain were suddenly heavy in the air even through the closed door of your bedroom. As soon as a shiver ran up and down your spine you got up and all but ran outside to chase the somber feeling.

The elevator doors of your floor weren't even fully open yet when Loki busted his way through them, Thor hot on his heels.

"I knew it was a mistake coming here," Loki snapped, his steps fast as he put as much distance between himself and Thor as he could, nearly running straight into you in the process.

"You know what, brother," Thor began, he had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the living room, "Maybe it really was a mistake to bring you here, you don't care about anyone but yourself, it's almost as if you enjoy hurting people, you can't help it. It'll always be like this, that's why you're better off on your own." Thor wasn't shouting, but his words rang loudly in the room; his chest heaving when he stopped speaking.

You had held your breath the entire time, gripping the back of a kitchen stool until your knuckles turned white. Thor was angry, you could feel it even without being near him, but he didn't mean what he had said, not entirely. Thor's emotions were a passing wind on your skin though, for who you really felt, stood just a few feet behind you.

Loki had his back turned to his brother when he spoke, and he didn't turn around after. Even without looking at him, you could feel the way he trembled, unsteady hands closed into tight fists to mask his hurt; he gulped back a sob, and kept on walking to his bedroom without a word.

You could choke with the amount of pain radiating off of Loki; heavy, sickening, all-encompassing pain that you felt so vividly in your skin and bones. You only shot Thor an angry glance and muttered; "Damnit Thor," before turning around hastily. You thought you heard Thor calling after you, but you decided to ignore him, your priorities already set.

You ran after Loki, catching up just before his door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath, you walked into his bedroom and softly closed the door behind you with a click.

You'd never actually been in Loki's room before, so you took a single moment to glance around. The room itself was a little bare, with only the necessities such as a double bed, a dresser, a desk, a small bookshelf, and the door that led to his bathroom. You made a mental note to gift him something to liven up his space; maybe a plant.

Loki had his back turned to you still, both his hands resting on his waist as his head hung low. But you knew he knew it was you there with him, by the simple fact that he was allowing you to stay.

The silence was a heavy one, packed with the electricity of two souls tightly holding onto each other. Loki was trying so hard to keep all his pain in control, his shoulders shaking with each breath he took; but you could feel it as if it was your own.

"Loki," you said his name in nothing but breath, testing the waters. You took half a step toward him as you fidgeted with your hands.

He didn't answer. You weren't expecting him to.

You pursed your lips before saying; "he didn't mean it," your voice was choked and took effort to come out, the back of your eyes already burning, "what Thor said. He- he didn't mean it."

A few beats passed, and then; "doesn't matter if he did." Loki's words cracked in the middle, it was the most broken you'd ever heard him sound. "He's right."

"He's not," you told him in the same heartbeat, not a tint of hesitation in your tone.

Loki turned around, his gaze finally finding yours and there were tears pooling at the bottom lid of his bright eyes. "Yes, he is," he took a single big step toward you, nearly closing the distance between you and him. Loki's lips trembled as he struggled to keep talking; "and why is it that you care? What's in it for you?"

He was hurt, and he was frustrated, and he was angry; you knew that. Still, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his question. What could he even mean by that? Did he really believe that all this time that you'd been dancing around each other's feelings, it wasn't real?

"Loki, I-" you stuttered, not knowing how to say it without baring your heart in the process. Your hesitation got Loki avoiding his eyes from yours, and you forced yourself to go on. "There's nothing 'in it for me' I just... care about you."

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Loki softly shook his head, scoffing. His tears were a blink away from spilling, he felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around his throat, and his heart threatened to jump from his chest and straight into your hands.

It scared him. How easily you could make his walls crumble like paper in the rain. He flinched slightly when he felt the ghost of your touch on his cheek, blinking multiple times when your thumb brushed away a single tear rolling down his cheek. You touched him as if he were porcelain, and yet it still broke him.

"Is it that hard to believe that you're important to me?" You asked then, voice nothing but a whisper in the short space separating your bodies. With your hand still holding his cheek, you forced his eyes back on yours. "You have a good heart, Loki. I just wish you could see it the way I do. I wish everyone could see it."

The crooked smile he gave you nearly made your own tears fall. "You don't know what you're talking about, you don't know what I've done," he told you quietly, more than anything, he sounded utterly defeated.

"But I do know," your free hand found one of his then, and you tangled your fingers together loosely, "I might not have been with the Avengers when you attacked New York, but I was still in New York. And I still mean it, you could tell me every single bad thing you've ever done and I'd still tell you how good you are, because I see it. Every single day, Loki. I feel you every single day, and I can feel all this-" Your words caught in your throat and you tasted your tears on your lips. "-All this pain that you carry around and you still choose to be good."

Too many emotions swam behind his eyes for you to put a finger in any of them. But tears were running freely down Loki's cheeks now, pooling against your hand resting on his cheek.

"What did you-" he tried, gasping for air as if he was underwater. This was foreign territory. You had a place in his heart no one else could ever have, he realized, and his heart was beating faster than his mind knew what to do with. "You've been prying into my emotions without me knowing?" He sounded more desperate than annoyed.

"I didn't want to," You explained quickly, "I- I never meant to, but for some reason, I can't block you out." Shrugging weakly, you slowly dropped the hand resting on his cheek, missing the way he glanced down in search of your warmth. "I tried. I really tried."

There was a vulnerability in Loki's eyes you'd never seen before. He looked at you as if he'd just realized what love is. You wondered if you mimicked the same gaze—you sure felt it.

Loki shuffled in his stance. His hand, still holding onto yours, tightened its grip. "I'm-" He avoided your eyes, looking somewhere past your shoulder, "I'm sorry you had to feel all that."

You softened at his words, shaking your head and taking another step forward until your sneakers bumped his shoes. "Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

Loki gulped back a sob after you spoke, and that was the last straw for you to let go of his hand and pull his body to yours in an embrace.

He melted into you.

Loki's fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and he buried his head against your shoulder—you soon felt it becoming damp, yet you only hugged him tighter. With the desperation he was holding you with, you wondered when was the last time someone had held him.

The soft sobs escaping him were muffled against you. And you couldn't help but stroke his back, the tips of your fingers burying into his very soul. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone." You spoke near his ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on his skin. "You never deserved it," you promised.

You weren't sure how much time passed, you stayed there for as long as Loki needed you to. When he eventually pulled away, he didn't go far, his hands kept holding your body close to him as if he was afraid you'd leave if he let go.

His bright eyes didn't hold a storm anymore, they were more like a calm sea. A soft frown etched itself into his eyebrows, "did you… take away my pain?"

You chuckled quietly, "No, I can't take away people's emotions." You lifted a hand until your fingertips could brush the skin on his forehead, "But I can make them lighter." You traced an invisible line over his eyebrow and until you reached his cheekbone, "Make the weight just a little bit easier to carry."

Loki leaned into your touch, almost closing his eyes. His hands that rested on your back traced your spine and pulled you closer. "Darling, you've been making it easier ever since the first day I met you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[matcha-chai-latte]

Thoughts that I had after reading chapter 260.

Who is toying with whom?

Yona has once again demonstrated extreme, unbending determination to save the people she loves. All of them, with no exception. And she has turned her back on the gods to the extent that she would toss them from the skies if they mess with the people close to her.

But now, if we think soberly and put aside the coolness of her statement, there’s another side of the coin. Like it or not, she is as much responsible for Zeno’s and everyone else’s suffering as are the dragon gods. Did she forget? SHE was the one that permitted the cycle to continue with no hesitation. SHE was the one that told Hiryuu to keep the dragons and Zeno until she meets them. SHE is the very person she should be angry at in the first place.

She’s angry at the gods for the suffering of her friends, yet she doesn’t care that both them and other countless people have been suffering like that for 2000 years because she asked for it? It’s very ambiguous.

I hope talking with the dragon gods will finally put her brains in place and remind her whose wish it was and who is to blame for the fact that Zeno begged her to grant him death. She is the reason he’s still alive. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t MEAN for anything bad to happen, because it still did happen. She has to face this reality to see the situation objectively.

The only thing the dragon gods can be blamed for is that they made the 2000 year cycle “painful”: Zeno’s eternal existence, the dragon warriors’ broken fates and short lives, the Crimson Illness. And the only way for Zeno to finally die is to be killed by Yona? It is extremely cruel. It was not Yona’s doing and she’s absolutely right for being angry at them for doing it. But she had a hand it letting it all happen.

The deal with the Dragon Gods

Now about her dealing with the gods. Despite her statement, of course she won’t be able to throw the gods out of the sky or anything like that. The gods are still gods, and she is only human (with a dragon god’s soul in her). Therefore, even though she will be able to convince them through aggressive confronta..khm..I meant reasonable argumentation, they are unlikely to comply with her conditions without a benefit for themselves. And they have one desire: to return the crimson dragon back to heaven. They did everything they did, made all those people and even both Hiryuu’s human forms suffer only to achieve that goal.

They will grant her wish to save the people dear to her, in exchange for the return of the red dragon. I can’t imagine any other condition they may have. And fate is cruel. Unfortunately, the soul of the crimson dragon is inside of Yona.

And I don’t think the dragon gods will back down. It has already happened once:

Hiryuu went against gods’ wish, stayed in the world of humans and…you know what happened next. If he stays, the dragons will not leave. The only way to end this is for the crimson dragon god to return to the skies.

The dragon gods cursing the dragons warriors along with Hiryuu’s descendants and making Zeno’s life eternal was a plan to return the Crimson Dragon to heaven?

The dragon gods are GODS. They created the prophecy, gave Hiryuu the relics and they knew what was going to happen in the future. Maybe they knew that Yona would make the decision to keep the dragons and continue the cycle. The gods made the cycle painful and made countless people suffer to make the empathetic human-loving red dragon leave the human world in order to stop it. They will face Yona / Hiryuu with the reality and the consequences of her / their decision, which may result in Yona having no other choice but to sacrifice herself and let the crimson dragon’s soul return to the heavens to stop the cycle and amend for what she did. Maybe that was their plan all along. Any decision we make comes with a price and Yona is not an exception.

So, then Yona will face two options: Yona lives on, nothing changes, everyone continues dying / Yona dies, everyone is saved and lives. I guess we know which one she will choose. She wants to save everyone.

But there has to be a trick to it, something that will save her from dying completely. After all, she and Hiryuu are two different people and the dragons want Hiryuu himself, not his reincarnation. That lake Jinsui is still on my mind, there has to be something about it.

That’s how I see the plot proceed unless any other circumstances rise up or unless Yona magically convinces the gods to leave them all alone.

And what’s the deal with Yona’s blood? Zeno’s blood never “reacted” to the medallion, but hers instantly did. What might that mean? What can she do? Will she be the one to go to the realm of the gods or will they descend to the human world?

[callmelyc]

Just gonna start cross posting every single bit of Twitter nonsense soooo

Lance joining Keith on blade missions post war and calling him "Captain" in the most flirty tone. He does this during meetings and such just to make Keith blush or stutter in his words.

The first time lance does this it catches Keith so far off guard his reaction isn't at all subtle.

"Excuse me, Captain~" Lance all but purrs the title in that lovely lilting tone of his and Keith damn near chokes on his own spit right in front of a room of BOM personel.

He clears his throat best he can trying to gather himself- because what the fuck- "y...yes Lance?"

"What if we went in teams of two? That way at least two people could tackle that northern section there."

Keith turns to look at the map, fluster momentarily forgotten, and sees Lance is right it would make more sense.

So plans are changed with unanimous agreement and things move on.

The flirtatious captain is forgotten until it happens again, this time in the halls.

Keith is talking to a commander for one of the resistance outpost when he feels a presence slide into his side so smooth and efficiently he nearly ignores it.

He knows it's lance, it always was, and he's more surprised by the fact Lance stays so silent.

It's not until the Commander, a man named Zyre, starts to comment on lack of trust that Lance speaks up before Keith can even get a word.

"Excuse me Commander but I can assure you Captain Kogane has it all under control" he says it with a charming smile that seems to ease all of Zyres worries.

Keith never knows how he managed it with such ease and simplicity, to calm someone's worries as if it's his living purpose.

He watches as the two talk, ending with a light laugh and a kind goodbye.

As the commander leaves Lance turns to look at him, blue eyes sparkling like the ocean "what's wrong Captain?" And there it is again that flirtatious sing song of his title that makes Keith gulp. A tanned hand smoothly slides up Keiths arm making his mouth run dry "cat got your tongue?"

Keith fights the flaming blush rising up his cheeks, he turns to rush away in place of a reply knowing it was far more incriminating thid way.

If he hears Lances twinkling laughter as he turns the corner Keith makes nothing of it.

The third time is, unfortunately for Keith, during a joint BOM and Atlas meeting.

Griffin was arguing the benefit of using some of his crew alongside one of the other branches of the resistance and it was draining Keith's patience to no end.

Sure they get along now, somewhat, but that didn't mean he found James particularly pleasant to listen to.

He drones on and on about the efficiency and things he'd already covered in his pitch but despite a good amount of the room being a tad annoyed no one seemed willing to stop him...yet

That's when Keith sees It, the look™ on Lances face and he knows oh God does he know.

Lance smiles when he notices he's caught Keiths eye and tosses him a knowing wink.

Keith fights everything in him not to groan as Lance shifts to cut Griffin off without even looking at the guy. Those blue eyes zeroing in on Keith from across the room with terrifying accuracy and focus.

"Captain Kogane" he says oh so sweetly it shuts everyone up in an instant. Lance even bats his lashes for extra effect because his new favorite thing to do is apparently publicly torture Keith.

"I-" Keith starts far too distracted to even notice the way some have started giggling at his demise. Too far gone for this boy that his loss for words is so heavy for something so small.

"You had a contact in that Sector didn't you? Why not utilize them?"

It's not until after the meeting that Keith realizes others have taken notice to Lances....well, whatever it is he's doing.

Keith tries to ignore the look, the whispers, the focus. He really does. But then Shiro has that shit eating grin on his face as he walks up next to him and Keith would rather be literally anywhere else.

"So Captain Kogane huh?" Shiro asks smugly.

Keith glares at him "shut it grandpa, he's just being respectful."

That makes shiro snort "yeah sure respectful is definitely the word for that."

Keith reserved to say nothing as they walked to the cafeteria and did his best to ignore every giggle and whisper thrown as he passes.

If he thought that was bad he wasn't ready for the way people mockingly called him Captain at lunch. They'd say it with that same flirty lit and over the top gestures that made his skin crawl. Its not in a mean way, he knows. It's more in the they were clearly mocking Lances tone kind of way and Keith found that unacceptable.

It irked him to no end. If they were gonna poke fun at him fine! But don't bring lance into it.

So Keith did the only rational thing left. He left the cafeteria.

He tracked down Lance because even if he was the cause of the teasing Lance was still far better company than anyone else on this god forsaken ship.

He found him in the ships artificial courtyard humming to himself as he played with the vines.

He sits next to Lance enjoying the simplicity of the moment since they usually don't get much time like this and returns the smile Lance throws his way. It's comforting when they're together like this. Just the two of them with no prying eyes or mission discussions.

"What brings you here Samurai? I would've thought you'd eat lunch with Shiro."

Keith huffs a bit "with everyone jokingly calling me Captain I'd rather sit somewhere relaxing."

Lance frowns "do...do you not like being called Captain?"

Keith looks at lance dumfounded, he's unable to reply before lance continues "should I stop?"

"NO!"

The two look at eachother wide eyed for a moment.

A beat pases.

Two.

Lances surprise fades into a small smirk, a dangerous understanding filling his eyes "oh so you do like it when I call you Captain?"

"I- well..." He stutters trying to fight the rising heat on his ears. Keith wouldn't dare admit it out loud he can't. He can't give lance a weapon like this, his heart wouldn't survive.

But despite the lack of voicing his agreement Lance picks up on it anyways. Those sharp eyes always on target, lazer focused, and amused much to Keiths dismay.

Lance chuckles standing to leave "well, I'll see you around then Captain~"

And Keith has never wanted to smack himself more for being such an oblivious idiot.

[ghostaholics]

I had a dream about your enemies with benefits ghost x reader where the reader had a cryptic pregnancy. She kinda just doubled over in pain randomly and BOOM. Baby.

HE'S A LETHAL PERFECTIONIST TO THE CORE: rigid expectations impressed upon everyone; it's what makes him a first-rate soldier – grit factor and an appetite for excellence in everything he does.

(The thing is, Ghost doesn't make mistakes.

Of course, there's a first time for everything.)

It's chaos walking in Bangladesh, guerrilla warfare against an AQ cell weaseled away in Dhaka because the shiteheads have business with the organized crime bosses here. It's a city jam-packed with civilians, innocent lives. No open-fire allowed. A place like this means guerrilla warfare. Hit-and-run tactics. God knows he's not trying to start an international incident by blowing up half the bloody capital.

Cloak-and-dagger: they're picked off one-by-one. It takes a full day. A mess to be cleaned up, and he does it exceptionally well.

Ghost doesn't get any reports outside of the mission until he relays his total kill count.

"Good work," Laswell radios in. "We need you on the first flight to Oslo."

He lets out a slow exhale while jumping into the driver's seat of the vehicle he commandeered a couple blocks over. Time to make his way to the airport, then. They need his back-up. He knows what that means. But he's not going to think about the fact that the rest of the One-Four-One are there for a completely different ops and whether things have gone south if they're calling him in. He was supposed to be their fallback plan. "Everything solid?"

"It's Mav."

His grip around the steering wheel tightens. If he starts speeding through the streets, then he doesn't notice, too tuned in to the conversation at hand. "Fill me in."

"Landed herself in the hospital."

Again? Christ. It's the second visit in six months. He was there for the first one. Damn near had to stop the bloody doctors from calling out her time of death. Fuckin' tossers.

"What's the damage?"

"Well—"

"Alive?"

"Yes," she says quickly.

"Then quit beating around the bush. The hell's wrong with her?"

"All in one piece. Just get here when you can."

Right, so no helpful answers from the Station Chief. And Ghost tries to contact the others, but gets the same fucking silence. Not Price, not Gaz, not even Soap who always answers just to take every opportunity over the comms to blather about anything and everything in real time. He's not sure why he's being kept in the dark like this, but it's definitely putting him on edge.

The only other message he receives from Laswell: Oslo University Hospital. He'd combed the website for information in between stoplights. It'll do, he supposes. Their services don't seem subpar, which at any rate sounds far better than fucking Moscow; he still gets sick thinking about it.

So he checks in, gets his visitor badge. It's a whole ordeal that takes a lot longer than he likes. They tell him what floor, what room. That's the Gyneacology and Obstetrics Wing. He triple-checks, making sure nothing gets lots in translation; doesn't sound right to him, but he'll tear up the place later if they gave him the wrong directions. He memorized the hospital layout already; it'll take him approximately three minutes utilizing the right staircase, or seven minutes if he wants to take his sweet-fucking-time with the elevators.

"Our gift shop is around the corner," they tell him in a thick Norwegian accent before he makes his exit.

Odd.

She doesn't like flowers or cards or sentimental things anyways. Calls them impractical. Would rather hoard his jackets or other belongings of his that she finds useful, so the gift shop would be a waste.

When Ghost finally gets to where he needs to be, 2 minutes and 45 seconds later (skipped every other step just to shave off time), he finds everyone sans Mav waiting outside the room. It's not a happy reunion, despite Soap's grin. Everyone's intact, nobody's dead or anything that would excuse their silence during his trip from Bangladesh. Ghost is extremely unimpressed with their lack of communication and promises that he'll deal with their sorry arses later before shoving his way through the door.

—only to be met with the sight of her sitting up in bed, a tiny newborn bundled in her arms.

... whose fucking baby is that?

And when his eyes snap up to hers, she's glaring at him with a positively seething look that could kill.

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 28

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, domestic Avengers living in relative normalcy until things turn south, language, official team movie nights, political commentary, political discourse, protective Steve Rogers.

✦ Word Count: 6.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Hey! Here we are at Civil War. You might find a few things to be a clear change up from the original source material while others stay about the same.

[Master List]

The twins had really started to come into their own after a few weeks of training sessions at the Compound. With a state-of-the-art gym at their disposal and a plethora of willing trainers on hand, you had taken note of the subtle changes.

At first, they preferred to remain in their quarters on the south end of the residence, rarely talking to anyone outside of yourself and Steve (and Vision, at times). And, at the Captain’s insistence, they began a training regime to get them up to task. Even though they would not be participating in any active missions until they turned eighteen.

Pietro rebelled, at first, against Steve’s program. He was insistent on the fact that his enhanced speed was more than enough to take down anyone who crossed his path. And then he met your unmoveable shield and, after his ego took a minor beating, he agreed to try out a strengthening system.

Wanda’s training was one of a kind. Even though Natasha had offered to give her a basic rundown program of defensive combat skills and firearms training, she had declined at every turn. You were her trainer.

Or more accurately, her test dummy.

As you slam into the wall mats once again, you hold a thumbs up for her to see before waving your hand a moment later.

“Good,” you grit, fighting back the twinge of pain that blossoms from the base of your spine as you move back onto your feet. “That was better.”

A hint of a smile flits across her lips before she regains her composure, her misting red hands falling to her side.

“Great heights can work to your advantage. Most everyone you will come across will experience negative effects if you drop them from such a distance. Me included,” you add under your breath.

You had been at it for the better part of an hour now. Her magic was temperamental at times, but she was getting a better grasp on it as time went by. Being free of HYDRA’s hold had given her the chance to truly feel her powers; and reacquaint herself with them, in all honesty.

“Okay, let’s work on disarming.”

“No,” she groans, already taking a step back.

You can’t help but chuckle as you move toward the edge of the room.

While the rest of the team worked in the large gym down the hall, Wanda had been given access to this room. Every square inch was padded (for your benefit, really), and the walls were reinforced with the strongest metal Tony could acquire. If anything went wrong, the padding would act as an immediate barrier to whatever destruct force occurred during training.

Your workouts with the seventeen-year-old had started off small - focusing on moving objects across the room with accuracy. Followed by larger weighted objects. And then, onto training dummies. And eventually, onto you. The most sturdy person on the entire team who could handle a few rounds with the enhanced teenager.

Now, she could physically pick you up and chuck you against whatever target you laid out for her. Despite the occasional aches, you were incredibly pleased with the progress she was making.

“Come on,” you playfully push at her arm. “You know how he gets.”

She sighs, “He gets that face, like… disappointment but worse.”

With an arm wrapped around her shoulders as you steer her out of the room, you laugh in agreeance, “That’s Captain America for you.”

Arriving in the lavish gym, you find Pietro in the ring with the supersoldier. The teen’s got boxing gloves on, while Steve holds up the punch shields for him to hit. While Wanda moves to stand near the ring, you remain by the weight machines. 

He’s just about perfected Pietro’s movement now. His footwork has made great leaps and strides, and, if it was actually a real fight, Steve wouldn’t mind if the teen was using his enhanced speed to move around him. As it is, this is only part of his strengthening regime.

“That’s it,” Steve encourages, twisting to move with Pietro.

You watch the semblance of a dance that’s taking place between the two; between student and instructor. Pietro’s sweating bullets, his tank is drenched and his white curls are clinging to his forehead while the man opposite him merely smiles - not a sign of exertion to be found.

“Okay,” he smiles as the boy drops his gloves to his sides, chest heaving. “That was better than yesterday. You gotta work on your - ” he demonstrates a particular left jab and uppercut combo for him. “But we’ll focus on that later. Right now, I have to work with your sister.”

“You were brilliant,” Wanda beams as Pietro pushes his way through the ropes, dropping down beside her on the ground, “Eww, wait! No! Don’t - god, you stink - don’t!”

Steve huffs a breath of laughter as the boy moves to envelop his sister in a particularly sweaty hug. His azure eyes meet yours from across the gym, and while the other two occupants are distracted, he makes his way out of the ring and over to you.

You flash him a smile as he draws near, running a hand through his blonde locks.

“How’d she do?” he asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his track pants.

“Better,” you shrug, watching as Pietro zips around the treadmills to corner her near the mirrors. “Always getting better. I can see her confidence building up after every one of your training sessions with her, you know. Even if she’s going around calling you a hardass after.”

His brows rise, “Oh really?”

“I’m sorry,” you grin. “I think Captain Hardass was the exact term she used.”

Shaking his head, his eyes not leaving your face, he calls her name from across the gym with an immediate authority that has both teens freezing.

“I wish you luck,” you murmur to the supersoldier as Pietro suddenly appears at your side.

Wanda slinks over to the training mats on the opposite side of the gym as Steve begins detailing their exact workout for the morning.

“Cronus, she wasn’t kidding,” you groan as the boy begins heading toward the doors. Unable to help turning up your nose as you catch a whiff of his post-workout scent. “Go take a shower, kid.”

He laughs as you shove him in the direction of the locker rooms. With a shake of your head, you head out of the gym - entrusting Wanda’s training in Steve’s capable hands - as you head up to the main floor.

Life at the Compound had been a completely new adjustment period for you.

While you had been comfortable living with the twins, Steve, and Vision at your house in Vermont, it had been your house. This was a total changeup to your usual routine. In the residence section, you only had the team to worry about. If you ever moved outside of it, however, into the research building, the labs, or the hangar, suddenly there was a vast array of employees, scientists, and agents to deal with.

So, slightly similar to Wanda, you kept to your section of the Compound for the first few weeks. But, eventually, you found yourselves in the main living space on the first level of the residence building.

Tony had made the Compound feel similar to the Tower in the sense that everyone had their own space, but also common areas as well like the kitchen and lounge. Even down in Tony’s private lab, he had an offshoot room with a kitchen and living space.

It had been one of those nights, one of those too-frequent sleepless nights with Wanda and Pietro, that you found yourselves in various states of exhaustion on the plush couches in the lounge. Wanda had been curled up next to Steve, eyes slowly blinking as she tried to focus on Cher Horowitz. While you took up the armchair for yourself and Pietro made a makeshift bed on the floor.

Natasha had wandered in from Cronus knowswhere in a knee-length black cocktail dress. And she only blinked once, not a single question on her lips, as she silently joined the four of you for the remainder of the movie.

And as you had FRIDAY dim the lights once the show came to an end, the two teens fully asleep on the couch and floor, respectively, she had pulled Steve away for a conversation that was not meant for your ears.

But after that, one by one, on those particular nights, at least one other member of the team would happen to wander in on you and join in. Eventually, two would show up, and sometimes even the entire team would be assembled in the designated movie space. And at that point, it transitioned from late-night nightmare solutions to weekly movie nights and takeout.

When you wander into the lounge, tucking your hair over your shoulder, you find Clint and Sam locked into a taunting match on the white couch in front of the TV; a controller in each other their hands.

“Eat my shit, Barton,” he bites.

“Ooh. Taking the high road, Samuel?”

Wandering over to them, resting your arms on the back of the couch, you watch as Clint tosses a blue shell at Sam’s go-kart, laughing maniacally as he slips into first place.

“Ouch, tough blow,” you breathe out.

“Grab a controller,” Sam calls over his shoulder. “We can take him.”

With a laugh, you just rustle his shoulder and leave them to their game, “Think I’ll pass.”

In the kitchen, Natasha rests on the island counter with her phone in her hands - her gaze intense.

Snatching an apple from the fruit bowl, you roll around the counter to her side. Squeezing the fruit between your hands, you twist the center - successfully snapping it in half.

“What’s with the face?”

She hums in reply as you take a bite of the sweet fruit.

“It’s deadlocked again.”

Your brow rises, as you question around a mouthful of fruit, “Seriously?”

With another hum, she turns her screen to the left for you to see.

“No, don’t tell me Vis is the tie-breaker again.”

The redhead nods, a smirk turning up at the corner of her lips as you let out a long groan.

“But he doesn’t even eat it! How is that even fair?”

As she types out a text for the sentient lifeform to read, you shake your head. Cronus you hoped he picked Indian.

The weekly dinner and a movie night had been fraught at first - too many people with too many varying opinions on what should be ordered and worst of all, what movie should be watched. This led to the implementation of a weekly poll for both cuisine and film genre.

So far, Ghostbusters was in the lead with a solid 6/8 vote (Sam and Steve had teamed up in hopes of Remember the Titans). But, again, the team had been fully split between restaurants. Vinny’s Pizzeria was fully locked with Royal Palace, and while you were all for a good pizza and pasta combo, you had been craving the tandoori chicken and biryani for over a month now.

“Excuse me, Miss Athena; Goddess of Wisdom, Warfare, Handicraft, Amazing but Impractical Stunts, and - ”

“Yes, FRIDAY?” you interrupt with a hand to your forehead. Tony and his damn nicknames.

Natasha snorts, barely looking up from her phone.

“Sir has requested your presence in the lab.”

Biting into the second half of the apple you respond around a slice, “Tell him I’m on the way.”

Waving in the assassin’s direction, you take the left hallway down to the main atrium. From here, you can see the SHIELD agents doing their morning training regime out on the lawn.

Down two sets of stairs and a few left turns later, you’re in the immaculate white lab that Tony had been calling home for the past year. He’s hunched over a piece of electrical board with a screwdriver between his lips and goggles on his face.

“What’d you need me for, Stark?” you question as you move into the room - careful to keep a solid five feet between you and his project. You had learned your lesson from the last time.

He grunts in return. You watch as sparks briefly fly up from the wiring before he leans back on his rolling stool. Dropping the tool into his right palm, he lifts his goggles up onto his forehead and stares at you.

“We need to get Vision onboard before Cap wins them over with pizza again.”

With a laugh, you clap Tony’s hand in yours, “A matter of great importance, I see.”

“You don’t mess around with takeout Fridays, 007. It’s a sacred rite.”

“Mmm, pass the garlic naan?”

Steve chuckles low in his throat as he leans over to nab the basket from the coffee table, offering it over to you as you nab another piece of warm bread for yourself. His left arm drapes over your shoulders when he settles back into the couch cushions.

“Everything was fine with our system until the power grid was shut off by dickless, here.”

“They caused an explosion!”

“Is this true?”

“Yes, it’s true. This man has no dick.”

Pietro snorts next to your legs on the floor while Tony giggles behind his hand on the chaise lounge.

“God, I love this movie,” Clint grins between bites of curry.

“You would,” Natasha intones beside him, sipping on her pink-colored drink.

Steve’s fingers tighten briefly on your left shoulder, making you turn to look up at him. His face is a swath of warmth and contentment. 

Ever since you moved to the Compound, it’s like another version of Steve was available to you every day. You were so used to seeing the Captain out on the field, on missions. But now, nearly every beginning and ending of your day had Steve Rogers in it in some shape or form.

The team had become a family, in all honesty, these past few months.

Moments like this - the simple domestic moments that were a rarity in the realm of superheroes and villains - were such a blessing. To be next to your best friend - to share a meal and watch an old movie together, that’s where the joy came from.

He smiles back at you before turning to speak to Wanda in a hushed voice. You smirk as he tries to explain a portion of the dialogue that was alluding her. To her right, sits Vision in a chair pulled from the table, he’s also listening intently as Steve explains the scene and why it’s considered amusing.

By the time he’s answered all of Vision’s questions - which is impressive, considering the fact that he’s never seen the movie before either - they’ve already encountered Gozer, and the Stay Puft monster is just coming onto the screen.

“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.”

“I tried to think of the most harmless thing. Something I loved from my childhood. Something that could never ever possibly destroy us. Mr. Stay Puft.”

“Nice thinking, Ray.”

“Okay!” Tony calls out, “Tell me the truth, are you in this one?”

You can’t help but snort as several heads turn to look at you.

It had been quite the revelation, three months back, for them to learn that you had been an accidental extra in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

“I was in Chicago when they filmed the parade scene! We didn’t know it was a production in progress. We heard music and thought, oh, let’s go check that out.”

Tony had rewound the scene to find your face in the crowd. Your colleague from the Art Institute had been beside you for the dance number - you were barely in the picture, but it had been enough to turn Tony’s new obsession into a full-blown problem.

“I’m not in every movie that has ever existed, Tony.”

You had been in exactly two movies the team had watched. Two. You had watched over fifty together now. That was barely even a percentage, surely.

But he bats his eyelashes at you and you can’t help but sigh.

“Sorry, Venkman. I’m terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.”

The camera pans down to the screaming people on the street.

With a dull voice, you point at the screen, “Right there, by the cab.”

“You’re shitting me! Who has the remote? Pause it! Pause it! No, go back - ”

He’s up from his seat, standing directly in front of the TV to try and find your figure in the crowd. His finger runs across each face, then once more before he turns back to you with a glower.

The laughter bubbling out from your lips can’t be contained once you catch the broken look on his face.

“I told you, I’m not in every movie!”

“Ooh, that’s cold,” Sam grins, raising his drink toward you.

Tony stalks over to you, “That hurts, Athena. I’m hurt. Do you see the hurt on my face?”

You can feel the rumble of Steve’s silent chuckles as he tucks you in closer, trying to hide his face from Tony.

“I’m not in Ghostbusters, I’m sorry I lied.”

“Thank you,” he holds up his hands in annoyance.

As he walks back over to his chair to resume the movie, however, you add, “I think I might be in the sequel, though.”

“That’s it! Double movie feature!” he points at you accusingly, followed by a playful wink to let you know that he’s actually not that bothered by it.

When the movie resumes and the Ghostbusters attempt to blast the Stay Puft man to marshmallowy fluff, Steve leans over to you - his breath is warm against your cheek.

“Are you really in the sequel?”

You look up, only to find him but a breath away from your face.

“Maybe? I actually can’t remember if it was that or Look Who’s Talking. I know I was in the city when one of them was filming, and I think I was on the corner or something when they were rolling?”

His hand clutches at your shoulder, bringing you in closer.

“You’re awful,” he murmurs with a wave of warm breath along the shell of your ear.

You smirk, glancing from him, to the TV, and back again.

Settling back into his hold, you grin, “You like it.”

The knock on his office door has Steve looking up from the e-mail he had been religiously re-reading from Sharon. It was a rarity that he was ever disturbed by anyone outside of FRIDAY when he was locked away in here.

Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise him too much, however, to see Tony’s face behind the glass.

“Rogers,” he states as he pushes his way inside, pacing as he goes, glancing around at the various items on the walls.

Steve watches him for a moment before he settles his arms across his chest, rocking back slightly in his chair, as he asks, “Was there something you wanted, Tony?”

“Uhm, yeah,” the other man settles down on the couch across from him, balancing one leg over the opposite knee. “God, this feels very principal calling the parents here, but… the gist is, your ward is causing me a headache, Rogers. Or, more accurately, she’s causing Pep’s team a headache which means I get the migraine.”

He’s immediately on alert, leaning forward as he addresses the billionaire, “What’s going on?”

“Yikes, I’d hate to be your kid. So, basically…” he drones, getting off of the couch to begin pacing once again. “Someone has made themselves an unofficially official handful of socials.”

With Steve’s blank look, Tony rolls his eyes.

“Social media, Rogers. Christ help us all. She’s got the TrueView, she’s got the SnapTap. Basically, anything the kids are down with, she’s got. And, you know we kind of got that separation of kicking-ass life and personal life thing going on for us and… well, Wanda’s blurring the lines a bit. And she’s gaining attention with her rare posting habits.”

There’s suddenly a phone in his face, requiring Steve to look and scroll through a small trove of pictures. Nothing too incriminating, nothing too revealing. There’s one of her in the kitchen, clearly taken by someone else - Pietro, if he had to hazard a guess. Another of a sunset on the outskirts of the Compound. A pizza box with a shot of a movie playing in the background. He thinks he can see Clint’s boot in the corner of the photo.

“This seems like… I don’t know, typical teenager stuff, right?” he questions as he hands the phone over.

“It would be,” Tony clips. “If she wasn’t currently one of only two known mutant refugees in the country. You get that after… Ultron, the press hasn’t been the kindest? Well, we get her posting online and suddenly we’re looking at a PR nightmare. I know that isn’t really your realm, Cap. Not mine either, if I’m honest - ”

Tony grins as he sits on the edge of Steve’s desk.

“I leave that to Pepper and the company’s social media team. And while she’s fine with the official Stark Industry pages, regular Avenger accounts are another thing. They need regulation, approval of posts and what can be said and what can be shown or not shown and… a lot of shit, honestly.”

He finds his arms crossed once again as he looks up at the billionaire with wariness in his eyes.

“What is it you want me to do exactly?”

“Take her phone, send her to her room? Whatever it is pseudo parents do.”

He groans, averting his eyes, “I’m not their father, Tony. I’m about the farthest thing from it, actually.”

Tony scoffs, “Right. Is that what we’re calling Mr. Sensitive cuddle buddy now? Were you or were you not just spotted making Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes this morning for a certain teenage witch? Was it the other person who frequently dones star-spangled tights?”

“Enough,” he bites, challenging Tony to say anything further with his heated gaze alone.

Everyone skirted this topic quite brilliantly. But, like with many things, Tony had the incredible inability to keep his mouth shut.

To be clear, Steve did not view himself as a parent to anyone. But… he knew how attached the teens had become to both you and him over the past year. You were the designated safe people in their lives. And while Wanda let Natasha do her nails, and Pietro frequently joined Sam in his morning workouts, there was a familiarity there between the four of you. That couldn’t be denied by anyone.

So, sure. Maybe Steve was more protective of that relationship. He had every right to be.

They had been traumatized for the better part of their short lives. They needed stability and safety. He had watched as you opened your home to them without question. And Steve rarely strayed far from your side in those endeavors. So, yes, despite the occasional teasing behind his back - though it had died down in recent months - he knew he was basically a pseudo-guardian for both Wanda and Pietro.

Though no legal document ever had his name down as such, nor would it likely ever, he was as good as. Maybe not a father, but a mentor. A person they could rely on.

Tony holds his hands up in a sign of a truce.

“Got it, don’t question the bond. All I’m asking is for you to go and… get her to either take the accounts down or set them to private,” he stands up, straightening his tie as he heads toward the door. He stops, looking back at Steve for a second, “Kids will be kids, right?”

With the prevailing silence now returned to the office, the supersoldier drums his knuckles on the desk for a moment before he closes the laptop and heads down to the lower south hallway.

He tries to come up with the right words as he journeys down to their section of the Compound; the designated four rooms that they occupied along the curved corridor. Wanda’s is the first on the right, her room faces the interior section of the building. The door is ajar and he can hear the sound of sharp pop music coming from inside before he even pushes the door open further.

Leaning against the doorframe, he watches the girl lying across her bed with her face just a few inches away from her laptop. Her feet bounce in time to the music. The video, some kind of late show from the looks of it, shows a man in a maroon-colored suit lipsyncing to a song, much to the audience’s amusement.

“Get much closer and you’ll mess up your vision.”

She balks, pausing the video as she turns to look back at him.

“Could you get any older?” she questions in her slightly accented voice.

Yeah, even he admits that was pretty on brand for the ninety-year-old he was purported to really be.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Steve drags his fists into his pockets and moves to rest on the edge of the bed. Wanda sits up, knees to her chest as she looks over at him with a wary eye.

“Relax,” he smiles. “I just wanted to - ”

“Vision!”

He turns to look at the man who has fazed through the adjoining wall - floating just an inch above the carpeted floor.

“You called, Captain?”

“What… no, I… Sorry, no. I didn’t mean to call you down here,” Steve sighs.

The other man gives him a nod, a curious look in his eye, as his gaze then falls on Wanda. He tilts his head.

“Is this about the social media issue?”

“Vision.”

“There’s a problem with me?”

Oh my god, please just allow him to get out of this in one piece. He was not made for these kinds of conditions.

“Thank you, Vision,” Steve states with more bite than he initially intended to use. 

The sentient being seems to understand as he drops to the floor and proceeds to walk out of the room, thankfully closing the door behind him.

He looks back toward Wanda, “So… I was told you have socials?”

She scoots back, grabbing her phone from the bed and drawing it close to her chest, “Yes…?”

“There are… some concerns over it. Ideally… Tony would like to see you either delete them or - ” he holds up a hand, seeing the immediate rebuke she has prepared, “or, set them to private. Apparently, there’s a lot more to it when you’re a public figure.”

She looks down, picking at her nailbeds - the black polish chipping in the process.

“I didn’t ask to be a public figure.”

With a gentle smile, he says, “I know.”

“Why shouldn’t I get to have them? I have, what, maybe ten pictures and a few posts on there? Nothing incriminating! Nothing that could… I don’t know, jeopardize this, us.”

“I… it came from Stark Industries’ PR department. Pepper is all over that and… well, I’m not completely versed in this area. But, they think it would be safer if the profiles were privatized for now. Maybe in the future, I think, they were considering having official accounts. So… next year, when you’re eighteen?”

“Are you serious?” she sets him with a dead look in her dark eyes.

He lets her simmer for a moment more. His silence leads to her groan, followed by the furious typing of her thumbs on her screen.

“You are incredibly uncool now,” she grits, her eyes briefly meeting his.

“Uncool and a hardass. Wow, really racking up the accolades, aren’t I?”

Her lips curve into a smile, unable to help herself from the looks of it, as she tosses her phone up toward her pillows.

“There. The world has no idea I exist… online, anyway.”

He pats her knee before hopping up from the bed, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, unpausing her video once more. The sound of pop music fills the room. “Don’t say I never do anything for you, Captain.”

Smiling to himself, Steve leaves her to her videos.

Leaning back in his chair, he chuckles as Sam describes the details of his very outlandish sparring session with Nat.

“No, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m wrong. Damn near, so… I got her down, she’s down. And then bam! Up and over my back, choking me out with her thighs. I’m just saying… it’s witchy. Witchy shit.”

Nat smirks into her glass, “Not witchcraft, Sam. Just ingrained training regimens.” 

“Witchcraft,” he mouths in Steve’s direction.

A handful of potato chips are chucked in Sam’s direction, leading to a burst of anger followed by several bouts of laughter from around the table. Steve catches your eye from the seat beside Natasha, your smile is radiant as you playfully toss a wadded-up napkin at Sam.

“Hey. Hey!” His eyes fall on Tony, who’s seated on the chair near the TV. “Shhhh!”

Steve’s gaze moves from the billionaire to the program he has on - ACNN. One by one, the rest of the table’s occupants turn to look at the TV while Stark increases the volume for them all to hear.

“We have our political reporter, Marc Burns who has been listening in on all of this tonight. Marc, while we wait for our analyst to come on, what would you say is your biggest takeaway from the announcement today?”

“I think today we truly heard the emotion behind some of the prevailing arguments that have been rattling the nation. Particularly from Congressman Ulborne and what you’re hearing from the lawmakers is that now is the time, given the protests that have been happening around the country and the world, really, Margaret. Public sentiment against the Avengers has risen to an all-time high.

“And you heard of the challenges, but also the opportunities in going forward with this legislation. While the GOP is eased by their majority in the House, they also have a Democratic Senate to try to surpass.”

Easing his arms onto the table, Steve watches on as a news conference is shown with a man in a red tie speaking, quite passionately, at the cameras. His voice is an enigma as the reporter continues with his remarks.

“These are a set of bills looking to address accountability and responsibility in due part to both the Avengers and the recently rebuilt SHIELD program. While some lawmakers might see this as a challenge, many members of the House are viewing this as an appropriate response to the outcry from the public at large.”

While the man continues, the screen changes to a bullet-point list.

THE SUPERHUMAN REGISTRATION ACT 2016

457 pages

Improve transparency by creating a public registration form

Place restrictions on superpowered individuals/teams from entering allied nations and territories

Enforces criteria and requirements of superhumans to be able to fully utilize their powers under the direction of the US government

“However, you’re already seeing President Ellis and Democrats trying to seize on that topic coming into this next election cycle. And while the current Democratic nominee, Michael Ruebens has declared the bill a gross overstep of government overreach today on TrueView, members of his party are not quite in agreeance with the current presidential candidate.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he hears Clint mutter.

“The current Republican candidate went on to TrueView this afternoon and offered his praises of his party members. Saying: fantastic creation of Ulborne and Giavanno, seeking to hold known terrorist Tony Stark accountable for his actions. It’s about time someone held these so-called heroes to a standard.”

“God, he’s a gem,” Nat tuts with barely concealed malice in her voice. Steve nods in agreement.

He can see your knuckles gripping the table’s edge tighter and tighter as the segment continues on.

“I think we can all agree that Republican sentiment amongst this proposed legislation is strong, Marc. But, it should be noted that Senator Young, from California, was seen at an anti-superhuman protest this past weekend. One of the few Democratic members of the Senate to take such a stand.”

“Well, I think that really speaks to the pulse of the nation right now in the aftermath of Sokovia, and New York, and Africa, you know? The people want to know if these individuals have our best interests at heart and if they are the best people for the job.”

“Okay, well, after this break, we’re going to go ahead and speak to Senator William Sharpe to hear what the Democrats in Congress are truly thinking about this legislation. And at eleven, we’ll be back here with Kennedy Jones to discuss the latest Roxxon leak off the coast. We’ll be right back with more, at America’s Central News Network, ACNN.”

Tony flicks the mute button and turns back to look at the table.

“What the fuck was that?” Clint questions, pointing at the TV. “How long have they been holding that in their pocket?”

“Probably a lot longer than they want us to think,” you reply with a trace of bitterness in your words.

“I mean, that’s gotta go against some kind of law or some shit, right? We’re a private group, individual rights and all that.”

Steve looks at the faces of his team, from Clint’s pure incredulousness to Natasha’s silent rage. From Sam’s quiet disappointment to your… the table creaks under your grasp.

He reaches his hand out, covering your fingers. Your blazing eyes meet his gentle blues from across the table. An exchange of conjoined thoughts happens in the blink of an eye before Steve retracts his hand and you release the table from your grip.

The supersoldier focuses on the one person likely to have the answers.

“Tony?”

Dragging a hand across his face, the billionaire puckers his lips and stares up at the ceiling before any words leave his mouth.

“So… the gist of it is, public discourse is still in question. And before an election cycle where their stronghold on the House could be tossed in a different direction, we have Republican do-gooders trying to shove as much legislation down the hole as they can.”

Taking a breath, he sits up, resting his hands on his knees as he levels his gaze with Steve.

“Fact is, you got some Congressmen trying to work a piece of questionable legislation down into the Senate. If, by some miracle you get a few Dems to jump party lines and vote in favor of it, then yeah. It’ll hit the House and get moved along. But, it hits Ellis’ desk, and… we have a connection. You know… saving his life and all.”

“So, it’s dead on arrival?” Sam asks; a hint of hope in his voice.

“Uh, yeah. Basically. And if by some miracle the Senate can find it in their hearts to agree on something for a change - ” 

Nat chuckles into her drink.

“- and it goes to Ellis, then yeah. I’ll go and wine and dine the guy and get him to veto the thing.”

Satisfied with that answer, the mood of the room seems to shift back to its former self. But there’s a look on your face that brings Steve pause.

He waits until you’re both making your way down to the south hall to bring it up.

Walking side-by-side, your head is downturned, your thoughts almost audible to even the supersoldier.

“Talk to me.”

Your gaze lifts, meeting his face with a look of apprehension.

“What is it?” he questions in a softened tone.

You’ve stopped now, just a hall away from your final destination. Clear of any listening ears outside of FRIDAY’s constant vigilance.

“It’s not going to be the last, you know?”

With his perplexed look, you move to explain.

“After Sokovia, the public hasn’t fully turned back in our favor. With enough outcry and protests, I can guarantee more legislation like this will be coming through. Maybe even harsher ones.”

“You think we’ll be in trouble?” he questions with a slight lift to his brow.

With a pause, you cross your arms, “Not necessarily. I mean, Tony faced down Congress before when they were after the suit. He has an army of lawyers I don’t think any legal body would want to touch at his disposal. It’s just… I don’t know.”

Sensing your discomfort, Steve reaches over and pulls you into his arms.

He can feel the immediate sigh of relief that you exhale when his grip tightens ever so much.

“I don’t want anything to touch the team,” you admit against the fabric of his shirt.

Nodding in understanding, he tugs you even closer.

“I know. Neither do I.”

Glancing down the hall - at the double doors that lead to their rooms, to Pietro and Wanda’s rooms - Steve feels an immediate flash of protectiveness wash over him as he holds you close.

The thought that anyone, or any body of force, would try to disrupt their lives or the lives of the ones he cares about, is enough to keep him on edge.

But with you in his arms, he tries to dispel the thought.

Tony said he could handle it if worse came to worse. And Steve just had to believe that that sort of miracle could occur.

Pulling back slightly, just so you can tip your face up to look him in the eyes, Steve tucks a strand of your hair over your shoulder.

“You worry too much.”

With a warm laugh, you say, “I think I worry the right amount, considering the hecticness of our lives, Steve.”

Giving a nod, he relents with a fair point before you both head off in the direction of your rooms.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[jinxed-sinner]

I 100% think Alastor's behavior is a trauma response tbh. It feels like something happened that inhibited his ability to be fully open with other people, sorta like Blitz. In fact, how about we look at differences and similarities between Blitz and Alastor, since we know Blitz's behavior is a result of trauma?

Both Alastor and Blitz take pleasure in hurting other people. With Alastor, he doesn't care who he hurts (although I 100% think he'd feel guilt for hurting Rosie), while with Blitz, he cares about hurting other people when they're close to him (most recently made clear in Full Moon and Apology Tour). Blitz enjoys hurting people as long as he's not close to then/doesn't know them, which is, in my opinion, a likely reason he started a freelance assassin business (and I actually wouldn't be surprised if it contributed to IMP changing their business from a general Hell assassin business to an assassin business that focuses on offing humans that have wronged sinners). The main difference here is that Alastor's emotional responses are muted (which is why he's significantly less likely to act out), while Blitz's resemble splitting in BPD.

Both Alastor and Blitz are reckless and impulsive. Alastor's recklessness is most clearly seen in The Show Must Go On when he fights Adam, while Blitz's recklessness is made clear throughout Helluva Boss (takes his team to the human world without proper disguises, visits a party where if anyone except Verosika and Stolas knew he was there he would be murdered for it, etc). Alastor also berated Husk on an impulse born from already being stressed out. I can't really think of any specific examples of Blitz's impulsivity and I can't decide if it's because he's so consistently impulsive or if it's because I genuinely can't think of any examples lol

Neither of these two assholes (affectionate) will open up to people unless something forces them to (and potentially not even then in Alastor's case). The only times Blitz has opened up is if he's forced to (Truth Seekers) or if circumstances lower his inhibition (emotional outbursts, Queen Bee, arguably also Truth Seekers). The closest we've gotten to Alastor "opening up" is his mental breakdown that he had when he knew he was alone.

They're both still capable of making genuine connections. Alastor is incredibly close to Rosie (something I personally think is because she has motherly tendencies), and Blitz, despite all his tendencies towards them, seems to consider Moxxie and Millie friends. They're both capable of forming genuine connections, but don't, at least not often; for Blitz, it's because he's afraid of it, and for Alastor, it's likely because he either views it as a weakness or would just rather manipulate people for his own benefit.

It feels a lot like Blitz and Alastor have similar types of trauma; their responses to that trauma are simultaneously similar enough to be comparable and on wildly different ends of the same spectrum. Blitz craves connection, so he seeks it out, then sabotages it when he thinks it's going too far. Alastor avoids connection aside from a few genuine close friendships here and there that he can count on one hand.

I don't think Alastor is incapable of forming genuine emotional bonds with other people, and Rosie and Zestial are proof of that. It comes off more like he actively avoids connection; he doesn't interact much with the hotel's staff and residents aside from Charlie and Niffty, and when everyone's partying in The Show Must Go On, he's watching from afar with Niffty. I also feel like you can easily interpret Alastor's muted emotional responses as him actively trying to mute them; he sounds like he's actively trying not to have a breakdown after he gets slashed by Adam.

He would've largely grown up probably between 1895 and 1915 (or something close to that, depending on his age when he died) as a mixed race kid in New Orleans. You absolutely can not convince me that alone did not in some way contribute to how he is now. Add in a potentially abusive dad and yeah, is it really surprising that Alastor is the way he is? It genuinely just feels like he's a product of his circumstances in childhood. This is doubly the case if the theories that 1, his first murder was that of his dad, and 2, he basically did vigilantism turn out to be true. He himself implies he finds it cathartic to kill the loan sharks in Dad Beat Dad and is pretty much content the rest of the episode after that, he doesn't even seem to care that he's sharing a space with Lucifer after that. I'd be more surprised if his killings in his human life weren't him taking out his trauma on people he thought deserved it to be completely honest.

*Also as a last minute addition, I think it's also easy to interpret Alastor's attitude towards emotions and relationships as viewing them as a weakness, something that it's very likely is also a sign of him being a product of the time period and circumstances he was raised in.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 9: Looking Glass (Mirrors)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spy wants you to know just how beautiful you are.

Tags: Mirrors, hotel rooms, self-conscious reader, kinda sweet

Word Count: 1.9k

The Masterlist

It was true that you were a bit insecure about your appearance, but you never saw it as a major concern. You had always figured that no one in the world was completely comfortable in their own skin, and those that said they were weren’t being truthful. The feeling would usually pass, and you could spend the rest of your time worrying about more important things.

So what if you had a few flaws? No one was perfect. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra. Despite this, you often found yourself in front of a mirror again and again, agonizing over tiny aspects of yourself that you were convinced everyone would notice. It wasn’t long before you began avoiding your reflection all together. It was easier that way. After all, you wouldn’t be wasting time inspecting your supposed flaws if you never gave yourself the chance to look at yourself.

You were quite startled when Spy asked you to spend a night with him. Although, maybe you shouldn’t have been. There had been literal weeks of barely concealed flirting leading up to this point. The mutual interest had been fostered well, and this was the most logical outcome. Surprised or not, one thing was for sure, you were more than eager to agree.

There was one condition. Spy insisted that if you two were going to do this, it would be outside of the base. The last thing he wanted was for one of the other mercenaries interrupting in some way. Plus, he believed you deserved a more romantic setting than the rather cramped private quarters that he was given.

He spared no expense. The hotel he had booked was certainly meant for- well, more debaucherous purposes, but it was far from the sleazy motel that most would imagine. It was more like the kind of place where a couple may spend their honeymoon. Of course that didn’t mean that the room itself wasn’t a bit intimidating.

You stopped short when you first walked in. The first thing your eyes went to was the restraints on the headboard, and then to the various kink paraphernalia that was laid out meticulously on a nearby coffee table. This place certainly provided well for their guests. Then, there was the thing that concerned you the most; a full length, impossibly large mirror on the opposite wall to the bed. There was no way to really avoid looking into it.

“Darling, look at me.” Your attention was directed back to Spy, and you tore your gaze away from the mirror to face him. His suit jacket was already off, draped neatly over an armchair in the corner. He met you with a sympathetic look, clearly noticing your concern.

“I’m not great with mirrors. I don’t really like to look at myself,” you admitted. You glanced away, unable to meet his eyes. You had been looking forward to this night, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin it with some kind of childish aversion.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but I think you may benefit from this,” Spy said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Would you be willing to simply give it a try?”

Glancing around nervously, your gaze finally fell on a leather paddle on the coffee table. “I’ve never been spanked before. In fact, I don’t think I know what half of these are used for,” you clumsily tried to change the subject, picking up the toy and turning it in your hands awkwardly.

“We don’t have to do any of that tonight,” Spy said. You gasped as he wrapped his arms around your waist, taking the paddle from your hands and placing it back down. You were about to protest, but a series of soft kisses to your neck had you melting into his embrace within a few moments.

“We can stop whenever you want,” he whispered, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he guided you to the bed.

“Promise?” You asked, so softly it could barely be heard.

“I promise, mon amour.”

You hesitated for a moment, once again turning to look at the mirror. The thought of seeing your naked body tangled with Spy’s, responding to his every touch, struck a strange blend of fear and arousal into you. What the hell, it was worth a shot.

“Alright. Let’s try this out,” you said, finally turning to face Spy, pressing your lips to his. He kissed back gently but firmly, still inching you closer and closer to the bed until you felt the back of your thighs hit the edge of the mattress. Spy carefully pushed you down onto the soft sheets, and once you were below him, you felt his fingers begin to play at the hem of your shirt.

You quickly took that matter into your own hands, stripping yourself of your shirt and tossing it somewhere out of sight. Your bra followed soon after, and it was then when that familiar gnawing sense of self-consciousness decided to rear its head. You instinctively covered your chest with your arms.

Spy simply took your wrists in his hands with a soft tsking sound. He pulled your hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before placing your arms to your sides, leaving you exposed. You shivered, using all of your self control to keep your arms where Spy had placed them as he ran his hands up and down your body, lingering more around your chest.

Finally, he met your eyes with a gentle gaze, and a soft spoken request, “May I?”

With a deep breath, you nodded. Spy’s hand finally came up to caress one of your breasts and you sighed in response to his touch. He ran his thumbs over your nipples every so often, eliciting soft gasps. Your head fell to the side, inadvertently looking in the mirror. Instinctively, you moved to turn away, but you managed to stop yourself. You had promised yourself that you would try, so you did. You watched, and the longer you watched, the more erotic you found the situation.

Your focus was only torn away from your reflection when you felt Spy’s hands move away from your chest and down to the waistband of your pants. Soon, they were pulled off, leaving you clad in only your underwear. It was at that point that you realized the two of you were on uneven ground when it came to how clothed you were. You decided to take some initiative to remedy that, setting upon him and unbuttoning his fancy undershirt with surprising speed. You only faltered in your efforts when he began to pepper kisses over the sensitive skin of your neck.

Spy smirked at your sudden hesitance, setting to work on unfastening his belt. Eventually both his shirt and pants were discarded on the floor, giving you a good view of his erection straining against his briefs. You squeezed your thighs together at the sight, feeling a familiar warmth between your hips. It wasn’t long before undergarments were discarded as well, from the both of you.

You weren’t sure how long you spent exploring each other’s bodies. It was as if you lost time between the ghost-like touches, rough caresses, and gentle kisses the two of you shared. However, you were both growing eager for the main event. A soft gasp escaped your lips when Spy dipped a hand between your legs, stroking your entrance. He hummed in approval when he felt just how wet you were.

“Face that way darling, on your hands and knees, s'il te plaît.” You obeyed Spy’s instructions, now facing the mirror head on. However you found that you were far too aroused to feel any sense of shame or insecurity when you saw your own lust filled gaze staring back at you. You just needed Spy inside of you. Luckily, you would get what you desired soon enough.

Spy placed his hands on your waist, and you watched in the mirror as he slowly entered you. A gasp-like moan tore from your throat and you fell to your elbows as he bottomed out within you. It was an easy feat, thanks to how thoroughly soaked you were.

You didn’t remain on your elbows for long though. Spy leaned over you, and you gasped when you felt him wrap an arm around you, lifting you up against his chest. You were completely bared in front of the mirror now, held upright by Spy, who was kneeling behind you.

Finally, he began thrusting up into you. He moved slowly at first, but once he was sure you were comfortable, he began to quicken his pace. Despite the odd angle you were in, he managed to easily find your g-spot, making you see stars as he pounded into it repeatedly.

With stimulation like that, it wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm approaching. Your eyes rolled back, and Spy felt your body begin to tremble against his. He knew you were growing closer by the second. You felt his labored breaths as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Don’t come yet. Hold back, and look,” Spy tilted your chin up to look in the mirror. “Look at yourself, entwined with me, trembling on the edge of ecstasy. It is beautiful, non?”

“Yes,” you moaned as you took in the sight. Spy holding you steadfast with your back to his chest, your desperate expression, the way your every breath came out as a labored gasp, it all turned you on even more. “Oh god, Spy, please.”

“Go ahead darling,” he groaned, beginning to thrust up into you again. “Keep looking in the mirror as you climax, watch the pleasure flow through you.”

You did just as he asked and watched yourself as your orgasm overtook you. You watched yourself tremble at Spy’s touch until your head lolled forward, your strength waning as the aftershocks rolled through your body.

“Mon dieu!” Spy’s strangled moan proved enough to bring your attention back to the mirror, just in time to see him come undone within you. His face was buried in the curve of your neck, as if to stifle himself. The whole scene seemed like something out of a movie to you. It was beautiful, just as Spy had said it would be.

Finally, when both of you were thoroughly spent, you collapsed back onto the bed, the mattress creaking from the sudden impact. Spy immediately pulled you into his arms, stroking you back in soothing, circular motions as your breathing slowed and your body cooled.

“Well, chérie? What did you think?” He asked, a smirk playing on his face. He already knew the answer, but you humored him with a response anyway.

“I think you were right,” you said. His grin only widened. With a sigh, you curled into his embrace with a content smile, which quickly grew into a smirk of your own.

“Maybe tomorrow morning we should try out some of those items on the table,” you whispered, running a hand tantalizingly up Spy’s chest. He laughed, possibly a bit surprised by your sudden suggestion, but not entirely unwilling.

“This little confidence boost has made you quite bold, my dear!” He held you closer, and you could feel the gentle rumble of laughter as you rested your head on his chest. “But yes, perhaps we should give them a try.”

You smile at the suggestive dip in his tone. Lifting your head, you glanced at the mirror one last time, admiring the sight of you and Spy, both of you flushed, limbs tangled, and exhausted. With a tired sigh, you laid back down and let your eyes close, content to fall asleep in that intimate. intertwined state.

[damagedintellect]

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit:

Chapter 5 💌  

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.  

Notes: Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.  

💌 Word count: 2,522 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

As expected, neither of you would bring it up once Dazai did make his return and it wouldn’t be until Kunikida received the call from the president that you'd be relevant again. Which is fine you needed the break anyhow. Keeping up with Dazai had been easy at the beginning but now that things have progressed you don’t know what to make of it. It could be the fact that before you didn’t believe in the possibilities thinking that eventually you’d wake up and this would have been a silly little thing your brain created one night. As the days flew by and especially with last night's date things became very real. You were brought out of your thoughts when the phone rang and despite not being able to hear the other side of the conversation you remembered the gist of the exchange.

“All operatives are to leave company offices and gather at the former facility”

Kunikida stopped what he was working on and looked over to who was currently around. “Do you mean your previous headquarters before you founded the agency”

“Only a select few know of that location so we should be safe. We risk being overwhelmed by superior numbers otherwise. Hold on I have visitors”

“Sir, what’s going on? Sir?” His voice wasn’t that concerned at all but you could visibly see the panic as Atsushi entered the room. “What’s wrong?” Atsushi questioned putting the boxes down.

“Something happened with the president. Ambushed maybe.” Kunikida was still very nonchalant in his demeanor. “We should go and help then-”

“I’m sure he’s fine. More importantly-”

“How can you be so calm at a time like this!”

Kunikida sighed “Try and grab hold of my hand, you’ll see why” Atsushi looked at his hand, reaching out but he was already on the floor “That was the first technique he passed down to me. I’ve never won a single match against him. He’s not going to lose against a handful of mediocre hitmen”

Kunikida then made arrangements for everyone to meet at the former facility. You were all waiting around before the president made his entrance “Listen up, the port mafia seeks to eradicate the agency. The guild seeks to usurp the agency. We must do all we can to protect ourselves from both of these foes. Dazai please continue” You were getting excited counting down the minutes for a certain slug to make an appearance. It would probably be the only time you saw Dazai’s counterpart.

“You got it~” He winked at you before addressing the rest of the room. “The guild has substantial financial assets and the port mafia has the benefit of numbers, so we’ll split into defensive and offensive teams and engage them in gorilla warfare. The primary goal for the defensive team is to make sure doctor Yosano is protected. As long as we don’t die outright, her healing ability can cure our injuries.”  Dazai took a pause pointing out the defensive team that consisted of you, Fukuzawa, Ranpo, Yosano, and Kenji. “The offensive team will split into two sections and will surprise the enemy using Junichiro’s mirage ability and my nullification ability. The crux of our strategy is to keep our base of operations hidden. If our enemies hit us here with everything they’ve got our defenses will never hold” he punctuated his speech with a smile. Fukuzawa made the last declaration before everyone dispersed. “Of the three organizations only one of us can survive. Our only option left is to fight. A three way war, a war of the gifted!”

Then you were left to your own devices. You spent the first part of your writing out the details of what would happen just in case Ranpo was serious about you telling him what happens next. You never know with Ranpo. As he finished more and more of his snacks you tried to hand it off to him. He nodded at you acknowledging you did your part but he didn’t open it yet. Maybe he was testing if you were telling the truth or if anything has changed since causing butterfly effects were always a concern in the back of your mind. 

“Man, I’m so bored! I wanna go outside.” Ranpo whined in the president’s direction. Fukuzawa was reading while he put black and white pieces on a board. You think he’s playing “Go” but you thought it was a two player game. “Any suspicious activity?”

Yosano sighed “A bunch of nothing followed by more nothing” It’s been like this for hours now.

“Luckily the only way to enter this hall is through that underground railroad tunnel. Even if an enemy does try to invade our location our security cameras will warn us well in advance.”

“We set up a fair amount of traps on the way as well.” Yosano added just before Ranpo shouted “War is so boring! I’m already out of snacks after just half a day. I know hey Akiko let’s play hanafuda online!”

She had stars in her eyes at the offer. “Okay how much do you wanna bet?

Ranpo went quiet, opening his eyes causing you to perk up from your relaxed position. Chuuya must have finally shown up on some of the cameras. Yosano blinked at Ranpo’s suddenly serious demeanor “What’s the matter?” You leaned over his shoulder to see everyone’s favorite sad boy. "Let me guess they sent the short redhead with the tacky hat?"

“I think we should call back the defensive teams.” Ranpo put his hat back on, peering towards the president who grunted standing up from his seat. “An attack, in your estimation how many are there?”

“One.”

Chuuya casually strolled through the tunnel disconnecting cameras and destroying turrets “I’ll cut to the chase, we could do this the easy way or we could do this the hard way.” He phased out some more cameras for emphasis “I’ve come to trade information. My boss has a special gift for you if I get to have a little chat with (Y/N).” Ranpo immediately turned to you as you froze. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Why does Chuuya know your name, unless, did Dazai actually tell him you said hi? Did he really set you up again! You groaned at the very realistic possibility, rubbing your face with your hand. You were going to strangle him the next time you saw him. You gave Ranpo and the president a reassuring look that you were fine with it. Chuuya held up the picture of Lovecraft and Steinbeck letting everyone get a good look at them “Those men are they members of the guild?”

“That’s right we reeled them in with bait. Here’s the time and location they’ll appear. You don’t get many chances like this do you? You can finally get one over on that lousy guild”

Fukuzawa was mulling it over but before he could ask any questions you growled. You decided to move things along “The mafia used Haruno and Naomi as bait, the guild has no idea it’s a set up and the mafia doesn’t have to do anything but sit and watch. Ranpo can confirm but we can’t waste too much time.” You stood up trying to figure out what your next course of action should be. This was interesting.

Fukuzawa turned to Ranpo as the detective grit his teeth “It is, unfortunately.” The president nodded at you to go have your chat before Chuuya changed his mind on being peaceful. You stopped halfway out the door, a thought occurred to you. “In the event I get kidnapped, don't go after me. I’ll be returned unharmed.” At least you hoped, whether or not they took your word you’d have no idea. Yosano and Kenji stepped back letting you confront Chuuya head on. “I take it you heard about me from the mackerel?” You hoped that neither of your colleagues knew Dazai by that moniker. Chuuya’s eyes had a glint in them. “All you have to do is see my hands right?” He looked over your shoulder as Yosano held her guarded stance ready to strike if needed.

 “We’ll see what I can do with this lighting but yeah that’s the gist of it.”

Slowly Chuuya pulled each finger out of the glove as you approached but the moment you touched his hand just as you expected he threw you over his shoulder with ease. He kicked off the ground avoiding the attacks from behind you. “Don’t worry I’ll return her to you eventually.” He shouted as he bolted out of the tunnel. You huffed “Why am I not surprised?”

“Most people would be terrified to be kidnapped by a port mafia executive, just how much do you know about me?” You shifted in his arms but he gripped you tighter. Obviously there was no point in trying to struggle but you wanted to see his face. “More than you’d want me too. Can you at least princess carry me or let me ride on your back so I can see your hands? I'd prefer to be back as soon as possible.” Once you made it out of the tunnel he set you down “What are you going on about?” 

“I wasn’t sure how far away you were going to take me. I would prefer not to worry my comrades further. Thank you very much.” You grabbed his hands pretending to look them over when you remembered a small detail from the stormbringer light novel and stage play. You focused on Chuuya’s right hand looking at his wrist seeing the pencil scar. Clones are only made of the same genetic materials but any scars or tattoos wouldn’t be copied over even if “N” said there would be no way to prove it, this could be good enough to sway Chuuya. First though you wanted to do something else. You looked back up at him affectionately squeezing his hand as you pulled him into a hug.

“What are you doing?” he was stiff, more confused if this was how your talent worked. Once you nuzzled into him he started trying to push you off. “Compensation for the minor kidnapping but also after seeing what I saw holyshit, you need this more than I do.” He continued to put up a fight “Enough already!” 

Pouting you sighed “Fine, fine I’ll talk. You want to know if I could see whether or not you’re human, yes? Although you have no reason to believe me nor do I have any reason to tell you the truth, I do know the answer but you’ll have to do something for me in return for the honest truth. Seem fair?” You have no idea what the hell Dazai even told Chuuya but maybe you could have this work out in your favor. “Depends on what it is, I’m not going to agree without knowing what I’m getting myself into.” He grumbled but you but there was a slight interest in his expression, you could work with that.

“Do you wanna help me mess with Dazai?”

He paused for a second letting your offer sink in. “Hah?”

“Well, you see we’ve been playing a game and I don’t plan on losing anytime soon. I’ll need your phone number and a picture of us kissing so that when things settle down I can leave my phone near Dazai, have you call it and hopefully Dazai being Dazai he’ll snoop through my phone and see it.”

You could see the gears turning in his head as a wicked smirk overtook his features “I like where you’re going but I don’t think you’ll get the reaction you're looking for. Lucky for you I have a better idea.” He chuckled darkly to himself like he’s been waiting for this kind of opportunity for a while. 

“So are you in?” You put your hand out to shake on it. He immediately took your hand. “I would have done this for free, too bad I won’t be able to see the bastard when it happens.”

“Good, now I’ll get to the point. You’re the original, but you really didn’t need me to tell you that you have humanity gushing from your pores but if you do need proof,” You grabbed his arm tracing the mark “That’s no birthmark, that’s pencil lead from before you were taken to the lab. If you were a clone only your genetic material from your birth would be copied bottom line is you wouldn’t have this mark. N lied to you because he wanted you to give up Arahabaki.” 

Chuuya didn’t seem that flabbergasted. He might have already come to terms with his humanity since he’s never truly needed to know the answer. Maybe this was just closure for the flag’s honor. Almost like a debt he needed to repay. It’s sad to say that Chuuya puts himself so low on the priority pyramid. It was extremely faint but you could see the hint of a smile on his lips as he glanced up to the sky taking a deep breath.

“For my end of the bargain you’re just going to have to trust me.” He started putting his gloves back on offering you his hand when he was finished. “But of course! An enemy of an enemy is thy friend.” 

Your squad would have to wait a little longer for your return. It’s not like they needed you at the moment. Chuuya ended up taking you to his apartment. It was spacious and astonishingly well kept. You whistled “Nice place. So what’re we doing?” He led you into the bedroom and started undressing. You blinked, um what the fuck was going on. You were starting to regret asking him for help. Chuuya still had his pants on, thank god, but he even discarded his choker. What the fuck were you guys doing? He shuffled the bedding a little bit while he spoke. “We’re gonna one up your idea. Take your shirt off, you can leave the bra on just hide the straps that will really send it home.”

Oh you see what he was doing now. You spend no time removing your clothes getting under the covers with him. This was a much better idea. He pulled you close, fluffing your hair to make it messier. “Okay now pretend to be asleep.” You did as you were told and let him take the picture. He ended up taking a few and you both decided on which one looked more scandals. It really looked like the morning after adult festivities. Once you were satisfied you set it as Chuuya’s contact photo. You had him call you for good measure to make sure that it popped up on the screen. It was perfect. You both snickered when the trap was ready. Now all you had to do was wait. You were prepared for the long con. Afterwards, like he promised, he returned you to the agency where Ranpo gave you an ear full. He had finally read your note. You are going to have to be more careful from now on.

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sister Lovers, Water Brothers

Chapter Eight : Love, Get Away Driving, and The End of the World (part 1)

Masterlist

A.N. This chapter is too long to post as one post on tumblr, part 2 is linked at the end.

Steve wasn’t happy with the way Munson was treating one of his kids. So unhappy in fact, that he forces himself into their club leader’s van to see what he’s getting up to with Chrissy Cunningham, and maybe it’s a good thing he’s so paranoid because it might just save her life.

Or, the one where Chrissy doesn’t die in the Munson trailer, and, despite the world-ending, the king(former) and queen(current) of Hawkins High cannot take their eyes off Eddie Munson

Read on AO3

Nancy tumbled out the other side of the gate and stood, dusting herself off and plucking leaves and sticks out of her hair as the rest looked on. They could all agree that gravity flipping around you was an odd feeling, but Eddie and Robin seemed to find it more entertaining than anything. 

On the normal Hawkins side, there was a white hazmat tent put up around the gate, and caution tape blocking off a large area in front of the Munson trailer. Thankful for a bit of cover, they all waited back a second for Steve to come through, but then that second passed...and another.

Robin had never given anything the benefit of the doubt, and she wasn't going to start now on the off chance that Steve had gotten himself into trouble in the few seconds he'd been left alone. She fell back to her knees next to the gate, Eddie close behind her, and looked through to see Steve standing there, hanging off the ground perfectly still. Too Still.

"Steve?" she called, terrified but trying to play it down in case it was nothing.

He didn't respond. His breathing came out uneven and shaky.

"Steve!" She called again, moving to throw herself back through the gate, but Eddie stopped her.

"We don't- it could be the gate," he said, eyes glued to Steve. If he ever saw someone trapped in their own head again it would be too soon.

"You want me to do nothing then?" Robin asked, letting out a panicked laugh.

"No!" Eddie said, explanation caught in his throat as Nancy asked,

"What's going on?"

"He's cursed," Robin said under her breath, but everyone heard.

"Steve?" Dustin asked. He shoved past Lucas and Chrissy, trying to block him from getting to Steve, only to be stopped by Eddie. He pulled the kid close against his chest and spun him so they were facing the trailer. Henderson didn't need to see that, feeling that hopelessness Eddie was drowning again. "Let me go!" Dustin demanded, struggling in Eddie's hold but not getting anywhere.

"Kid, Kid!" Eddie tried to get him to listen, "We need music right? My room, you know where my tapes are." Dustin stopped fighting him and nodded. Without another word, Dustin was unzipping the plastic wall of the tent and running off to the trailer. Eddie turned back to the other kids,

"Don't let him see Steve." Nancy and Chrissy nodded, but Robin was frozen watching Steve and shaking, failing to breathe evenly herself, "Woah, Buckley- Robin," Eddie pulled her back, forcing her to look away, "I'll go back through, I got him okay?" Robin shook her head, not willing to leave Steve even as panic set in. 

"No, I- I can't. He-" she cut herself off trying to turn back to the gate.

"Yes," Eddie said, with no room for argument, "I need you to watch Chrissy okay? I'm going to get him through." Robin kept shaking her head, unwilling to put Steve's fate in anyone else's hands, but Chrissy was already pulling her further back, as Eddie slipped through the gate.

The trip through was considerably less fun when re-entering hell as opposed to escaping, but Eddie felt better knowing Steve wasn't alone, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

"Steve, can you hear me?” He asked helplessly, shaking Steve by the shoulders. 

Again, he gave no reaction, so Eddie quickly moved on to plan B- pushing Steve back through the gate. Putting all his weight behind one shoulder, Eddie acted out his best impression of a football tackle, but he couldn't get Steve to budge. It wasn’t even like Steve was fighting against him, more like trying to push a brick wall.

"Stevie, come on," Eddie tried to reason with the unconscious man to no avail.

Thankfully, Dustin was back with a Walkman in hand and a shoe box full of tapes. Robin ripped it from his arms and began digging through tapes looking almost crazed. Chrissy watched over her, a cautious hand on her shoulder offering the only comfort she could. Then, after a moment, she realized that she recognized none of the album names or even the bands on the cases.

"What is this?" she asked Dustin, as close to angry as she could look, "We need music, Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, Beatles, Music! We need music!"

"It is music!" Eddie screamed down at the gate, then grunted as he tried to shove Steve again. With a frustrated shout, Robin continued to sift through the tapes, despite having checked them all twice already. Dustin was shaking in Nancy’s arms as she held him away from the gate, and she easily took the Walkman from his hands, tossing it through to Eddie.

It shot up, by his feet only to drop back down when gravity flipped on it. He stooped to catch it, at the same moment that Steve fell across his lap, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

Steve's eyes snapped open, and he pulled in deep breaths and sank heavily against Eddie. Confused by his surroundings he looked around, disappointed to see the dark red sky of Vecna's layer glowing down on him. Eventually, he realized someone else was there, holding him up. 

Fingers tightening in the sleeves of Eddie jacket, he looked up at him, eyes filled with tears.

"Eddie?" He asked, confused. He didn't know if this was another trick.

"I got you," Eddie answered, pulling him closer. "You're okay." 

Shakily, they both made their way through the gate even as Steve refused to let go of Eddie. 

Once safely, seated on the other side, Robin threw herself into Steve's lap, curling around him as she began to sob. Dustin was right beside her, cramming his way in so Steve could get an arm out each of them, with Eddie's arm trapped in the middle of it all.

"We need to move," Nancy piped up, feeling she had waited as long as she could. Eddie shot her a withering glare, but it didn't phase her. "No one can see us, but we’ve definitely been heard by now," She warned him, and he seceded. Reluctantly everyone helped each other up and Max led them over to her house. She waved them all through the door, before locking it behind them.

"What did you see? Is it- was it-" Max tried to ask Steve, as Robin settled him on the couch. The kids converged around him, going so far as to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was there.

"It was Vecna," He said, shutting his eyes, either blocking out the memory or trying to focus on the details. "But, his name, it's Henry."

"Creel's son?" Nancy asked, shocked. Steve nodded and kept talking,

"He showed me... everything. He was the first of them, One. After he killed his family with his powers Brenner got him and tried to make others like him."

"Like Eleven," Dustin filled in.

"But he... he's evil," Steve bit, knuckles going white where he gripped Robin's arm. She winced but didn't try to stop him. "He wants to bring the upside down here; he wants to kill every one. he showed me-"

"Steve," Eddie cut him off flatly, "You're going to hurt her." Steve looked up at him perplexed, but when Eddie nodded toward Robin's arm and he took in just how tightly he'd been holding her arm Steve practically shoved her away.

"Shit, sorry, I'm sorry," he told her, curling in on himself but she assured him she was alright. He seemed to come back into himself then, as he looked at Robin, instinctually checking in on all the kids, but refused to meet Eddie’s eye. He wouldn’t even look at him.

"Why don't we take a second to cool off?" Chrissy suggested, looking over the assembled group. The kids were beyond scared and even Nancy looked shaken. 

They were terrified at seeing Steve this way. He had never just been their babysitter; he was their chauffeur and their piggy bank for sure, but he was also their biggest supporter and their only true protector. Time and time again he had shown up to put himself between them and whatever new monster was after them. Sure, he'd been beaten and bruised before, but that never stopped him from putting on a brave face and keeping them safe. Especially now that Hopper was dead, and Joyce was all the way across the country and unavailable, Steve was the one they turned to when this shit came up again, and it was Steve that they knew could stop it from hurting them. Except this time he couldn't. Everyone was realizing that as they huddled together in Max's living room.

There wasn't a hit Steve wouldn't take for them, there was no monster gruesome enough to get him to run the other way, but Henry had just shown them all that Steve was useless against him. Their fight had just become a little more hopeless.

"Henderson, Mayfield, why don't you let him breathe?" Eddie followed up to Chrissy’s suggestion, but Steve wouldn't hear it.

"No!" He cried, pulling them back towards himself., "You’re not taking them, again!”

"Okay, sorry-" Eddie said, already backing up, but Steve was glaring at him now.

“I don’t care what you think,” he said bitterly, and Eddie was thoroughly confused as to what he was talking about. “You can’t-”

“Hey,” Robin said, cutting him off with a gentle hand on his arm as she glanced between the two men, “Stevie, nobody is taking them.”

“Robin,” he breathed, looking at her like the sun shining on his face for the first time, “it’s- you’re here?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” She assured, trying to hide the confusion in her voice, “where else would I be?”

Ignoring Robin’s question, he told her direly, “He’s coming, Vecna. He knows we're after him, and the kids- El- none of them are safe.”

“Steve,” Robin tried to calm him down, “Steve it’s okay.”

“No, because he’s almost ready, and he’s going to-”

“Steve,” Robin finally cut him off completely, then turned to Chrissy, “I need to get him out of here.”

“He can go back to my trailer?” Eddie offered, only loud enough for Chrissy to hear, not wanting to upset Steve again.

“We can go over to Eddie’s,” she told Robin, “The kids can stay here with you, Nancy, if you don’t mind making sure they’re safe?” 

Nancy opened her mouth to answer or argue but didn’t get the chance before Robin agreed and dragged Steve back outside, away from his gaggle of children. He let Robin pull him away, even as he looked back at them.

The four of them snuck back across the dark street, their steps feeling deafeningly loud as they crunched across the gravel, but it was late enough that no one seemed to notice.

Once inside Steve and Robin settled on Wayne’s cot in the living room, while Chrissy and Eddie hung back in the kitchen listening on. Steve continued to ramble about Vecna taking the kids away, and knowing something he didn’t want anyone else to, but Robin’s steady assurances slowly and surely calmed him down.

“It was horrible,” he admitted to her, voice breaking, “he showed me you, the kids all…killed like the others were, and he told me it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t.”

“But what if it is?” he insisted, “What if he’s right? What if I’m not strong enough, if I’m just a-”

“Steven, don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Robin warned, and Steve let out a long sigh like he knew better already, but was testing her for some reason. “You’ve had a long night, hell a long day too. Why don’t we see if you can use Eddie’s shower, maybe change out of his vest while we’re at it?”

“Sure,” he agreed hesitantly, before telling her, “He looked like him. Vecna, like Eddie, I mean.”

“But it wasn’t him,” Robin told him, earning another weary sigh from her friend. “Let’s get you clean, yeah?”

Eddie managed to scrounge up some towels and bandages for them all and they unanimously decided Steve should have the first turn in the shower. He accepted gratefully but  denied Robin's offer to help him clean off the bat bites. Everyone there could tell she really wanted nothing to do with them, but was doing her best friend duty and at least offering.

When he came out of the shower, only looking more exhausted as Robin swapped places with him, Chrissy offered him a pile of Eddie’s clothes. The man in question had disappeared into his room, sensing Steve's hesitation towards him.

“He did the same thing to me, you know?” Chrissy said, lingering next to where Steve sat on the cot, unsure of whether to sit. “Pretended to be Eddie, but… you were the one that reminded me it wasn’t actually him, ya know?”

Steve looked up at her, unable to speak.

He did know what Chrissy had seen, but now he understood why she had reacted how she had. Vecna didn’t just scare him, no, the fear he inflicted was precise and calculated. It wasn’t just the bodies of his closest friends, mangled and gory, but it was the fact that he knew, like one knows in a dream, that it was his fault. Yet there he was watching, knowing he was the one who had failed.

Then, Eddie had stepped out of the shadows, cursing Steve for all he was worth. Reminding him of every sin he’d committed as King Steve and tacking on his current insecurities just for good measure.

Eddie’s usually warm, soft eyes had looked murderous.

“And he cares about you too,” Chrissy told Steve, pulling him back out of his head.  “It doesn’t seem like he wants to admit it, probably has something to do with his whole rebelling against the man persona, but you aren’t really the man are you?” She asked knowingly. All Steve could do was shrug. He wished she had let him get dressed before having this conversation. He was cold. His mind was still reeling.

“He’s figuring that out, too,” She finished, then left him with his stack of Eddie’s clothes to get dressed.

With Chrissy in the shower, and Robin still in the bathroom getting dressed, Steve mustered enough courage, or something like it, to tap on Eddie’s door. It was already mostly open, and Steve could see Eddie sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, fingers digging into his hair.

“Come in?” he called, eyes snapping up only to be surprised when Steve pushed his way in. Standing to greet him he asked,

“Did you need something?” he asked, genuinely, “the clothes fit alright?” 

Looking over Steve, he could confirm the clothes did fit all right. The sweatpants were fine and hung loose where they were tied around Steve's waist, and the shirt might have been a bit small but anyone who knew of Steve Harrington knew he didn’t mind showing off a little.

“Yeah,” Steve said, forgetting why he came in here, “yeah, thank you… and…sorry I guess? I just mean, I wasn’t mad at you earlier, I was just panicking a bit.” 

Steve really didn’t want to explain the words Vecna had put in his mouth, Steve didn’t think they were worth repeating, even as they echoed in his head:

You were never going to be enough to save them.

Look at them, Look at them, Look at them.

Maybe if you’d been less worried about me, they would be alive.

Now, look at what I’ve done.

“Hey, no worries man,” Eddie said instead, kindly, nervously. “I was also freaking out…a lot, if we’re being honest.”

“Oh.” The lingering memory of the way Vecna-Eddie had thrown his head back and laughed faded in the face of the real thing.

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie laughed dryly, moving to pick something up off the many messy surfaces in his room. Rolling the trinket between his hands he continued, “You were cursed and all I could think was I didn’t know your favorite song. It felt like we had the solution, a magic spell to save you and yet… no dice,” he laughed again wetly, holding up the plastic thing that Steve didn’t think looked anything like a die.

“So what is it?” Eddie asked, after a beat of silence.

“What is what?”

“You’re favorite song,” he clarified, letting the die clatter back onto the desk and stepping into his space like he had been all day. He couldn’t help himself. Up close Eddie could see the blush reach Steve’s ears. 

“You know that movie Pretty in Pink? “ Steve asked, fiddling with the hem of his- Eddie’s- shirt. “It came out a couple months ago… Robin got me the soundtrack on tape, and…”

“Steve quit stalling,” Eddie teased, “it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s… a Smith's song? From the movie, the please, please-”

“Harrington,” Eddie beamed up at him and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him excitedly, “You’re telling me you’re into emotional, poetic, British shit? This is the best day of my life.”

“Oh, shove it, Munson,” Steve rolled his eyes, batting Eddie’s hands away, “what’s your favorite song then? Something loud and scary? By that Ozzy guy?”

Eddie tried to hold back his embarrassed smile, but couldn’t. Turning away from Steve he crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly very interested in the details of his own room.

“You can’t laugh.”

“You laughed at me!” Steve scoffed, but gave in, “Fine, fine, just tell me.”

“It’s one my mom used to play for me,” he said, shooting a glance back over at Steve. It was playful, but Steve could feel the significance of it. “And it was the first song I taught myself to play.” He let one of his hands fall down to strum the untuned strings of the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner and cringed at the unpleasant sound.

“It’s called Hung Up on a Dream? By the Zombies?” Eddie said. Steve shook his head. He’d never heard it before, and he really wished the world wasn’t ending so he could go buy a Zombie tape and listen to both sides, maybe on repeat. “That’s alright,” Eddie shrugged.

“You’ll have to play it for me sometime,” Steve smiled shyly, looking over at Eddie’s guitar and tilting his head to read the words, mouthing ‘this machine slays dragons’ with an adorable furrow in his brow.

Before Eddie could explain, Chrissy was calling down the hall to let him know the shower was free, and Steve was scurrying back to Robin now that she was dressed.

*

When Eddie got out of the shower, Steve and Robin were already passed out on Wayne’s bed in the living room. He didn’t blame them, it had been a particularly exhausting day. Especially for Steve, who really did end up taking the brunt of the physical and emotional trauma. Eddie turned off the kitchen light and hoped that whatever few hours of sleep they could get would help them get through the rest of this. 

He found Chrissy in his room where he had left her to change fifteen minutes ago. She was wearing his clothes - an old Judas Priest t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts from school he’d worn maybe twice - and sitting on his bed reading one of his magazines. He hated how much he liked this. Her, Chrissy fucking Cunningham, in his bed wearing his clothes. 

“Whatcha got there?” He asked, shutting the door behind him and absentmindedly hoping she hadn’t picked up a nastier issue of Heavy Metal.

She glanced up at him in the doorway as she closed the magazine to read the cover. Immediately doing a double take of him and then quickly casting her eyes away from Eddie and to the floor next to his bed. Her half-dry hair fell in her face as her cheeks began to burn.

It wasn’t until that moment that Eddie remembered that he wasn’t actually dressed yet, and instead had just walked in wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. 

“Oh, fuck,” He said, feeling like an idiot, “I’m sorry, I should have-” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Chrissy insisted, making a - poor - effort to not stare at him as she stood up, “I’ll just go out-”

“They're asleep already,” Eddie said, talking over her in embarrassed panic.

“Oh, um, okay, no problem.” She sat back down on his bed, facing the headboard and very pointedly not looking in his direction, “Here, is this okay?”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Eddie mimed a frustrated scream. The most beautiful girl in the whole fucking world was in his bed and he made it fucking weird.

“It’s your Metal Forces magazine, by the way.” Chrissy said, still facing away, “It’s actually really cool.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He dug around in his dresser for clothes to sleep in without holes. He usually slept in just his boxers, but that felt inappropriate given his roommate for the night.

Chrissy nodded, “There’s a really interesting article about this band called SHE, it’s all girls. I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“Oh yeah, I remember reading that one.” Eddie said, pulling on his clothes, “I tried to find some of their music, but I don’t think it’s been released here, yet.”

“Awe,” he could hear the pout in Chrissy’s voice, “That sucks, they seem cool.”

“Yeah, you��d probably like Girlschool if you wanna listen to girl rock bands,” Eddie offered, sitting on the edge of the bed, “I don’t have any of their tapes, but I know where we can get one.”

Chrissy tried to not think about him saying ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ as she turned around on his bed to face him. He was stiffly sitting on the edge of his bed, only slightly angled towards her. An awkward moment of silence fell between them.

“I’m gonna be honest,” Eddie said after another few seconds of horrible quiet, “I’d kill for a smoke right now.”

“Hm, maybe not the best phrasing given your current ‘wanted’ status,” Chrissy laughed, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees, “But, I would also kill for a cigarette.”

“I feel a little guilty,” Eddie stood up and walked to the other side of his bed, “letting you smoke.”

He opened up his bedside drawer, only enough to snatch out the pack and lighter he kept there without Chrissy seeing whatever other things he’d shoved in there over the years. He sat down on his bed and pulled his legs up, sitting with his back against the wall. 

“Let me?” Chrissy scoffed, moving closer and mirroring the way he was sitting. She watched as he lit the cigarette, eye’s lingering on his lips as he took the first drag.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Eddie placated, letting the smoke fall out the side of his mouth before taking another drag and passing it to Chrissy, “You are your own woman, you can have a nicotine addiction on your own.”

“You got that right,” She bumped his shoulder with hers, smiling up at him as she took the cigarette.

Eddie watched her take a small drag, wincing at the heat. He wished he had been bold enough to shotgun the smoke for her that first night, but now it would seem unnecessary. He fixated on her lips, finding himself obsessed with the shape of her cupid's bow and the way her cheeks hollowed out as she breathed in the cigarette. Trying to get his mind off of Chrissy’s mouth, Eddie ripped his eyes away from her, deciding instead to look around his room like he’d never seen it before. 

His eyes caught on his acoustic guitar in the corner of his room. He couldn’t help thinking about the way Steve read the words Eddie had formed in white tape on its body. It was cute, the tilt of Steve’s head as he followed the lines, the way his mouth silently formed around the words. The image of him in Eddie’s too tight t-shirt was permanently in his brain. 

“Eds?” Chrissy asked, for the third time Eddie realized, tapping his leg and offering him back the cigarette, “Are you okay?”

The sudden anxiety in her voice was clear, “Yeah, sorry,” Eddie shook his head, taking the cigarette back and putting it between his teeth, “Sorry.”

He suddenly felt sick with guilt. Here he was, a gorgeous girl that he’d had a mind-numbing crush on for years in his bed, and he was thinking about a straight man in a tight shirt. The worst part was the fact that this sudden thought of Steve in no way weakened the feelings he had for Chrissy.

He wanted to scream. Or kiss someone. Preferably one of the Hawkins High Royalty he was currently housing. Maybe both.

“Eddie, are you okay?” Chrissy asked sternly, jolting him out of his thoughts. He was making her nervous. He should have known better than to go nonverbal considering what she was going through.

“Yeah, god, I’m so sorry.” Eddie said, bringing his legs up to sit crisscross and face her, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

When he realized the cigarette in his hand was in danger of ashing all over his bed, Eddie tapped it into the ashtray, trying not to look at the d20 sitting next to it.

“It’s okay, it’s just…” Chrissy paused, taking back the cigarette, “Yeah, you scared me a little.”

“I know, Chris, fuck,” Eddie signed rubbing his face, he needed to shave. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, really, it’s okay.” Chrissy assured him, copying his movements and sitting crisscross across from him. She leaned past him and put out the barely smoked cigarette, grabbing his hands from his lap on her way back, “I’m fine, are you?”

“Yeah,” He stared down at their hands, and then very awkwardly asked, “Can…can I kiss you?”

“What?” Chrissy asked instinctually, just a little taken off guard.

“Never mind, I’m sorry,” Eddie panicked, leaning away.

“No wait,” Chrissy grabbed him by the shirt sleeve, keeping him from getting too far away, “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you to ask.”

“Well, it felt a little inappropriate to just go for it,” Eddie admitted, unfortunately aware of how hot his face was, he swallowed hard, looking away from her.

“Well, it’s very considerate of you to ask,” She leaned into him, close enough that he could smell the shared cigarette on her breath when she laughed.

“I’m not an animal,” he leaned in closer to her, “Despite what everyone in Hawkins thinks.”

Chrissy just hummed in acknowledgment as she closed the distance and pressed her lips to his. Lightly at first, the way he had thought about kissing her in middle school, but they weren't in middle school anymore. Eddie pressed harder against her, reaching out for her waist, as her mouth fell open. She tasted like toothpaste and tobacco and cherry, but Eddie thought he might be imagining that last one. He pulled her into his lap, her legs uncrossing to rest over his thighs. She moved her hands up from their place on his arms, one hand resting against the side of his face and the other fisted in the back of his shirt. He had to pull away, gasping for breath and leaning his forehead against hers.

“So, that’s a yes, I’m assuming.” He laughed, pressing a light kiss to her parted lips.

“Dummy,” She chided, kissing his cheek, then his jaw, then the side of his neck. 

Eddie hummed, tipping his head back as she kissed him. The feeling of her lips against his skin made his mind go fuzzing.

“Fuck,” he breathed out as her teeth grazed his skin, half convinced this was a dream.

She leaned back in, their lips only meeting again for a moment before he pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, worried as he moved away from her to stand up.

“Nothing! Just one- one sec,” He went to his desk and transferred the Queen tape from the Walkman Chrissy had been using to the radio, pressing play and setting the volume low, “There, Vecna free zone.”

“What would I do without you,” Chrissy joked, “I’m glad you’re so smart.”

“Actually,” Eddie said, sitting back down on his bed and pulling Chrissy into his lap, “Right now I’m probably the dumbest I’ve ever been.”

“I’m flattered,” Chrissy let him hold her, smiling widely up at him as he bent down to press a kiss to her neck. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a yawn cut her off.

“We should sleep,” Eddie said, glancing up at the clock by his bed and seeing that it was nearly 3 in the morning.

“Boo,” Chrissy pouted up at him. She looked so pretty, her blond hair falling behind her, splayed out over his bed, her blue eyes so bright and her lips just slightly swollen from kissing him. Kissing him. He wanted to put his head through a wall. 

“Don’t boo me,” He scoffed, brushing her bangs away, “We barely slept yesterday, you're gonna fall asleep on your feet if you don’t get some actual sleep.”

“Hm, fine.” She reached up, resting her hand against his face and just looking at him, “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Munson, just can’t say no to you.”

“In that case,” Eddie pulled her closer and pressed another kiss to her lips, “can I ask you something I’ve never asked anyone ever?”

She tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear, nodding up at him.

“Would you go out with me?” He asked, and then clarified, “Like on a …date? Properly.”

She sat up, leaning against his knee, “You’ve never asked anyone out before?”

“What happened to never making fun of me,” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not making fun of you!” She gasped, shoving him gently, “I’m just surprised.”

“I’ve never really cared about…dating.” The word felt weird in his mouth, “It didn’t seem worth it, before.”

“It seems worth it now?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“A little bit, yeah.” He under-exaggerated, kissing the corner of her mouth just before she yawned again, triggering him to yawn as well, “All right, that’s it,”

He gently moved her away from him and stood up, reaching his lamp in the corner. When Chrissy didn’t move, he nodded at his bed, “What happened to I’m too pretty to say no to, huh? Go on.”

Chrissy groaned dramatically, but climbed under the blankets on his bed. Eddie turned off the light, and carefully made his way back to the bed. In the dark he could feel Chrissy reach out for him. He gratefully laid against her, resting his head in the crook of her neck and breathing her in. She smelled faintly of cigarettes and his soap. 

“I’d love to, by the way.” Chrissy said into the dark, moving her hand across his back, her nails gently scratching at the base of his neck

“Hmm?” He asked wordlessly, moving his hand under her borrowed shirt, resting it on her hip, his skin hot against hers.

“You asked me out,” She clarified, “I’m saying yes.”

Eddie hoped she couldn't feel the embarrassingly large smile he couldn’t hold back and tried to play it cool in the dark, laughing as he said, “Imagine if you had said no.”

“That’d be so fucked up.” She gasped, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Just a little,” He yawned, the exhaustion fully catching up to him. He could feel Chrissy starting to fall asleep, too. He wished he could stay here forever. Safe in the dark with her.

Continue Reading to Part 2

[my-ultimate-is-ready]

Heeey <333 I saw you reblogged some prompts so I'm here to ask for beefboy Gabe "“Wanna dance?”

You should have known when that guy with the tray of hors d’oeuvres who looked suspiciously like Cole Cassidy tripped into your vision.

With Gabriel Reyes making an entrance, there’s no denying that Blackwatch is here for you. It’s not even that you’ve done anything exceptionally terrible, there are plenty of worse figures all about the room, but their existence here doesn’t change the fact that you are tonight’s target. And while you’re as undercover as the commander, a presence not easily hidden, you’ve already been given away. Perhaps by a certain waiter who smelt like cigar smoke.

“We’ve got to stop running into each other like this,” you say as Reyes stands before you, already plotting an escape plan. There are numerous potential exits, but none seem viable when he’s as close as he is. His bulk and speed are inescapable—well, nearly.

“Well, maybe stop being so obvious,” he says with his casual quality, like an old friend. Even when he has every right to be hostile, he isn’t. Doesn’t need to be. “Unless you’re purposely trying to run into me.”

“I bet you’d like that, Reyes.”

“Maybe I would. You are the one that got away.”

“You make it sound like it only happened once.”

Tonight would mark the third attempt. Even when he could have before when it would have made the most sense to, he refused to raise a shotgun at you, and much is the same now. 

Besides, you won’t fight; you’ll run.

You’re very good at that.

“I’d like it if you let me apprehend you this time,” he says in his offhand way.

The commander is too likable for his own good. 

“Wanna do me a favour and look the other way? What I did was barely Illegal. Immoral, maybe, but no one is perfect.” Lifting a flute of champagne to your lips, you survey him over the rim. “Besides, what’s your plan here? You’ll blow your cover the second you put your hands on me in front of everyone.”

“You’re right. Seeing how Cole nearly blew our cover the second we got here, I’d prefer not making another spectacle,” he says, taking your glass and setting it on a passing waiter’s tray who just happens to cut between you at just the right moment. You catch the scent of cigar smoke again. “I’ve got a better idea… Wanna dance?”

It’s not a suggestion.

As if you’re his willing partner, he snatches you up and leads you to the heavily-peopled dancefloor. His strength affords him to effortlessly maneuver and direct you through a charade of a dance until you break through to the other side of the room, clear out to the veranda and into the night. 

Despite the fact that you know he is leading you to your capture, you admire his inventive method. The Commander Reyes doesn’t put you into a headlock. He merely whisks you off your feet.

Lucky you.

“And where are we going now?” You ask once it’s clear that he isn’t about to let you lose for love or money. You see it in his face when you look up over your shoulder.

“What? Upset we can’t dance more?” He continues moving with that straight-ahead look of someone who refuses to be distracted. “Maybe, if you cooperate, we can have another go at HQ. Just don’t make me do all the work next time.”

An endearing plan, if there was any veracity in the offer—but you had something else in mind.

“You clean up nice,” you say—a genuine compliment.

“Flattery? Suspect. You must want something from me.”

“Just curious if you’re still armed.”

“Real cute of you to think I’d set out on a mission without firepower, even if I don’t think I’ll need it.” He sneers. “You wouldn’t be asking because you’re looking for a fight now, would you?”

“I’m smarter than that.”

“Unfortunately, I know.”

Still, you refocus and press again, “You’ve really got everything on under this suit?”

For this comment, you receive a quick itemizing look. “You ask everyone what they’re wearing under their clothes?” 

“Only when it benefits me,” you admit, slipping a finger along his belt from how he holds you and forces you to continue your forward march. Keeping the pressure lighter than light, your hand wanders. “Smoke grenades, too?”

In the last few seconds, before you find and release the pin, you see his face transform with understanding before the two of you are enveloped by white phosphorus. 

The one that got away is no hyperbole.

[sorrengailherondale]

I personally absolutely loved fourth wing. Spoilers ahead

Violet had Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and it is something that is written very well into the book (though at some points it's sort of ignored, though, I think that's actually good.) As someone who has egelrs Danlos syndrome, the struggles of the disease are so clearly written by someone who gets it. Violets talk with Mira with the premise of "nothing will really fix me" is so relatable I nearly cried, and that with her insecurity "what if underneath all the frail joints and brittle bones, was just more weakness" again **chefs kiss** The author even manages to play in with mobility aids in the context of a dragon riding college with Violets saddle, and Tairn telling her that she's worked harder than anybody else, and just because her body is different doesn't mean she should reap the benefits of hard work. This is what originally drew me to this book, and makes violet easily the most relatable character I've ever read, "You look all frail and breakable, but you're a violent little thing" could be my motto for life.

"should I call the wing leader" is one of my favorite lines, and Dragon sass and mockery is a staple. In much of the fanfic, it's the key reason to read

Did I see Brennan being alive coming? Yes. Did I see Dain's betrayal coming? Yes. Did I see Liam's death? Yes. None of this makes the book less compelling. The only thing that concerns me is the length of this series-- Vi and Xaden are basically already together and Dain has already shown his true colors? Why not drag it out some more? (Though personally more dragging if the Xaden and vi may have killed me) It's like showing your hand too early, though maybe this is all just the tip of the iceberg

Lilith Sorrengail was trying to kill her daughter with the rain on that parapet, maybe it was bc of the book, maybe something else, but the fact that Violet doesn't catch into that is infuriating, considering how observant and resourceful she is

On that note... I wanted Xaden to seem more awful. Like maybe not show his true intentions so much until the end of the book... But writing worlds like this takes time

Also-- I don't know why people are so flipped out about their modern behaviours despite a non-modern setting... Who cares? Personally, I find the modern things like (sometimes unnecessary) swearing, mocking each other's sex lives, and common phrases make fantasy books easier to deal with, the old timey stuff drives me up the fricking wall.

I hope we get more of the political climate and manipulation in the next books, it's also very obvious that violet will be going back to Basgiath, probably lying to everyone and keeping Dain fucking Aetos from touching her at all costs. What I want out of that off the bat is more character development for Rhiannon (I don't think the lack of this was accidental, leaving more page space for it in the next book,) a big falling out with Dain where hopefully violet can control her lightning and he realizes she is a true threat, and another falling out with her mother, I NEED more Mira, the Mira-Brennan- Violet-Lilkith angle is one Im dying to see. How will Mira react? How will Lillith- knowing her son is not only alive, but left her and her husband to join a rebellion that supposedly killed his and (is implied to have) caused the heart failure of her husband? I want Mira in the rebellion too, Mira realizes the reality of who her mother is, but there should be pushback

[queen-of-midnights]

Dreamer of Light

Masterlist

Word count: 1.3k

Chapter 4

"The Mortal Queens"

Over the next few days I had gotten to know better Rhys, Cass and Az despite Nesta's protests. Also Feyre has been getting significantly better by the day, still having some breakdowns, but nothing major.

Today they came with another, but this one was, well, a pretender, at least from my part. They call her The Morrigan who holds the truth, and yet, her words hold nothing of the sort, venomous and twisted lies plague her just as the harsh truths do. First it was hard to point out which of her words were true, but that's maybe only because she's so desperate for them to become the truth that she believes them herself. It's sad.

Now I find myself sitting in our drawing room in a light blue dress, all dolled up only for the bloody crowns of mortality. I sat on a couch near the window, together with Nesta and Elain, while the others were splayed on chairs near us. All of them were absolutely beautiful, especially Feyre. The tiara suits her. "They may surprise us yet." I interrupted the tense silence.

"You think so?" Elain asked while eyeing me, Nesta only snorted.

"I do." Feyre rose up from where she was standing, coming up to me and crouching in front of me the same she did when I was a child.

"Did you dream of them?" She asked with glossy eyes, pleading stood behind.

"The Golden Queen will show us the way." And will lead us to our death, but they needn't know that yet. It has to happen for this world to survive and so it shall. Fate will find a way to balance any of our interventions, anyway. "And then she'll die by the others." That left them speechless.

"I see. Thank you, Sienna." With that she squeezed my hand, let out a small smile and got back to her seat.

"You don't have to answer them." Nesta said with a harsh tone, but I knew better.

"I know. This is why us three need to talk." She nodded.

Before I could add anything, a strange mist filled the room, and our faeries gasped, seeming shocked, and understandingly so. After all, humans are not known for their affinity to magic. And yet, here they are. Seven Queens that stood proudly in front of us, and yet I found absolutely nothing regal in them, their jewelry nearly strangling them in hopes of capturing everyone's attention away from themselves, their true selves. Gilded dresses so big that they may as well get lost in them, unnecessarily lavish. But this was not the piece of cake, the fact that they smelled like magic, that plague of metallic and blood. Unashamed did they stay tall in front of us, as if they weren't already in. No, these women weren't here to help us, but to find weaknesses, they are already inclined in another direction, all but one. The Gilded Queen. Beautiful and shining, she looked like the most beautiful of suns seated besides these six.

'Only the golden one will help us. There is no use to tire on others.' When they first told me of their mind powers, daemati, they call it, I was not exactly thrilled, but it was perfect for these kinds of situations.

'I see. Thank you, Sienna.' Rhys replied almost instantly, and Feyre gave the subtlest of nods.

"You have an hour of our time. Make it count." The old one muttered, seeming uninterested. Almost bored, if it were not for the youngest of Queens, who was the most unnerving of them all with an attitude that even angered me.

And so did the show begin, or, may I call it, a battle of pretenders, in which everyone was simply throwing empty words on the table, other than the war which was not taken seriously by mortals. No, they needed something that would benefit them personally, otherwise they would leave their entire continent to die. This meeting was leaving we with the simple wish to drown myself in wine with Nesta at this point. Their words being thrown around, people's lives, as if they meant nothing. The audacity. With each of their suggestions, my blood started to boil more and more as they finally made their true intentions clear.

"What could ever be worth a war? Why would you risk your head, High Lord?" They asked, letting their little regal act slip.

'Rhys, don't.'

'I have to.'

'Half of them are already on Hybern's side, at least. They're just assessing us.'

'Then they'll see our true worth.'

Your funeral.

The blonde female, Mor, got up and held an enchanting sphere in her hands. "I am Morrigan from The War, you know I speak the truth." Debatable.

But then the sphere glowed and we could see what seemed to be a city on top of the mountains. It was incredible. Breathtaking.

"This is Velaris, The Court of Dreams and The City of Starlight. It has been our most kept secret for 5000 years. This is the true Night Court. And what we seek to protect." Rhys declared loudly while I started feeling nauseous, no, this was wrong. They shouldn't know. They'll seek to shred it like everything else. Innocent people will die. No. This was so wrong.

I tried to grip the arm of the sofa to steady myself, but then had another feeling. One of them has been watching me the whole meeting. The Golden Queen.

"Say whatever you have to say, child." She said loud and clear while looking at me, turning everyone's attention to me, while I gritted my teeth, feeling some sort of unknown power sweep through me. It was as if it tore up my skin, but it was gone as fast as it came. Then I looked at them.

"You all will never change your minds. You are imbued with magic and blood." It felt like I was finally able to take a fresh breath of air.

"Interesting, I've never seen another like you before. How wonderful." Despite her seeming goodness, I shall not forget, she is still one of them.

"For your people or yourself?" I bit back harshly.

"Sienna." Fayre said sternly, but Nesta intervened, seeming to be the only one as angry as I was.

"She’s right, Feyre. Everyone on this continent will die and they're just trying to strike the better deal for themselves. What kind of leaders are you?" The Queens now seemed scared themselves at Nesta's voice which was colder than ice, conquering only death itself.

"We will not take such disrespect-" One tried to argue back but I cut her off, reassured.

"You will die either way." At that they paled and everything went quiet. " At least you'll get your wish not to get older, your highness."

"Is that a threat?" The young one seethed now, the guards coming in between us.

"You believe that Hybern has all the answers, to eternal youth and power, but you, mere humans, have absolutely nothing to offer them but naivety and access to The Mortal Lands, so do not be even one bit surprised when they'll dispose of you once you've fulfilled your purpose. You'll be tossed aside. And all because of your fear to remain powerless, of death, but they come either way, even immortals have ways to die, so an end such like this is inevitable. And you're terrified."

"Stop it." They all seethed. Venomous women.

"You wished to hear me, didn't you? You got what you asked for." The Golden one smiled despite the fact that the rest of them were burning with fury in their veins.

"What are you, child?" Hey golden eyes sparkled with interest and kindness despite my harshness.

"A true mystery" and it was the truth.

"Indeed. Thank you for not lying. You were the only one who was entirely truthful." The others eyed her, but seeing the confidence she had in her words, they were starting to believe it.

"And if we give you our part? What then? Do we get to live?" They all looked at me as if their life depended on it. And it did.

"You will have more chances, but if they hear about this before we strike, then no." At that, one looked defeated, another devastated, two doting on themselves and their 'poor unfortunate souls'.

"I see. We will consider your offer." And with that they left.

It was quiet for what seemed to be an eternity, but then, Elain of all people spoke, leaving everyone in the room stunned. "I hope they burn in hell."

"From yours to the Gods' ears, sister." I grinned while taking a sip of my glass of wine. The first of many from that night.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Love Blooms (demon!Bucky and pre-serum!Steve omegaverse au)

9

PEOPLE LOVING MIA wasn't unusual. In fact, it was easier to do than breathing. Steve was half convinced that she had everyone under a spell. With who her alpha father was, he supposed that it was probably more than half true. After all, Alveus had Joe and paw paw completely wrapped around his finger, and all he was doing was being a good conversationalist. Becca, on the other hand, seemed to be using Mia's lovability to her benefit. Must not have enough likeability of her own, Steve couldn't help but think about his quasi sister-in-law.

Almost as though the brunette heard him, Becca redirected her attention from her niece in Sarah's arms to Steve. Steel-blue flashed to gold reptilian. Just a flash, that was it, and then they were back to her illusion that were identical to her brother's. In response, Steve's eyes widened. The demonic queen continued to give Steve the chills, and she knew it.

"I just can't get over her," Sarah dabbed at the corners of her eyes to catch the tears as they escaped. "She's just... perfect."

"She truly is," Becca easily agreed, resting her hand on top of Mia's covered head.

Trying to relax – assuming that Bucky would protect his daughter and Steve's family if his family tried to harm them – he only got a moment. Before he could even let out his breath, the doorbell chimed throughout the brownstone. Just a single ding-dong, but it caused Mia's tired eyes to open. And since she was no longer sleeping, she blinked up at her mimi and her auntie. Then, she started to cry.

"Oh, sweetheart," Sarah attempted to soothe, swaying and bopping.

It was too late though as Steve's nipples began leaking. Kindly – but authoritatively – Steve gestured for his daughter, "Give her here. It was about time for another feeding anyway."

Playfully, Sarah pouted her lower lip but did as her son said. Once the six week old was settled in Steve's arms and latched to his nipple, Steve assured his mother, "I'll give her right back." Teasing, "Her diapers aren't going to change themselves."

"Not just hers, either," a raspy voice called from the kitchen entryway. "Think I can get in on that?"

Turning, Steve found Natasha, her infant son, Niko, proudly holding up his head. Despite Steve's brows furrowing, he smiled. He didn't mind this employee. She was a good one. Trying to actually help people, not just collect their defeated souls once their name was signed on the dotted line.

"What a wonderful surprise," Steve decided. Jogging his family's memories by reintroducing the redheads, "You remember Natasha and Niko, don't you."

"From the baby shower, of course!" Sarah smiled, crossing the kitchen to hug the woman. "How have you been, dear?"

"Fine," Nattie's smile grew as Niko's tiny hand wrapped around the older woman's finger. "How about you? You look well."

"Thank you," Sarah beamed, "Grandchildren will do that for you."

"So," Bucky started. Keeping his tone casual, he asked, "What do we owe the pleasure?"

Briefly, Natasha's brows furrowed as she looked at her lord, savior, and employer. Then, she looked over at Becca. A quick, blink-and-you'll-miss-it look. Steve could see that he wasn't the only one who had noticed, and he was glad to have Bucky on his side. Even if the rest of the people in the room seemed busy with their own things. Such as Alveus, paw paw, and Joe talking about some war docu-series, or Sarah with Niko.

"It's never too soon for a princess and her prince to have a playdate," Becca claimed with a large, toothy grin on her face, feigning innocence.

If it had been anyone else who said it, perhaps Steve could've overlooked it. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Becca. Re'beck. Steve already didn't trust her upon their first meeting, so he knew that this was not a joke.

Instantly, Steve's gaze snapped to Bucky. The alpha's eyes were wide, like a child who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar before dinner. Now, Steve knew that he didn't know all the workings of Bucky's business or his realm, and he didn't mind that much that he didn't know all the ins and outs. But this was different! This was their daughter! Steve deserved to know about every little detail when it concerned her! Every. Little. Detail.

"Oh no! She's all wet," Steve lied, gaining the room's attention. Feeling his cheeks heat, Steve gave Bucky a pointed look. Suggesting, "Help me get her a clean outfit?"

"Of course," Bucky readily agreed, following Steve. Before he left the kitchen though, the alpha paused, warning his family, "Be nice."

"Of course," Becca mocked while Alveus accepted the baby boy into his embrace and teased, "Niko will be sure of it."

Steve gave the group one more look, tightening his hold on Mia in his arms. She was still fussing and not latching, and Steve could find himself doing nothing more than sighing. Couldn't things be easy today? Normally she was good-natured and effortless eater. It must be Steve that was the issue. At least as far as today went.

Not stopping in the dining room nor in the living room, Steve continued until they were upstairs. And then, he kept going until they were in the nursery. For a moment, he decided if that was the right room to have a private conversation, but he had faith that his family – at the very least – would give them space.

"Prince?" Steve started once the door was closed.

"I can explain."

"I'm waiting," Steve sat down in the glider, hoping that would soothe Mia into her normal eating habits.

Nodding, Bucky began, "You have arranged marriages here, yes?"

"Yes."

Another nod.

Steve prompted, "Yes, and...?"

"And we have that as well."

Thankfully, Mia properly latched. Steve could only hope that she would get milk-drunk and spend the rest of the afternoon sleeping. If only so he could take an extended nap too.

"When were you planning on telling me?"

"Soon," Bucky claimed.

"How long were your plans in motion? From the moment that Natasha got pregnant? From the moment we met? Both? Neither? I want to understand why you thought I was just another pawn in your game."

"Hey!" Bucky's brows furrowed, offended. "You're not some pawn, alright? I care about you! You're the father of my daughter, and I'm not going to sit back and let anyone talk about you like that! It's not gonna fly! Not even if it's coming from you! You got that?"

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach while his heart fell out of rhythm. How was Steve supposed to be around this man? He still wanted him and he hated that about himself. He could never trust Bucky, right? Not after everything he had neglected to tell Steve, right? Not after the dirty trick when he impregnated him, right?

Yet, when he became so passionate about him? How could Steve just throw it all away?

[stari-hun]

I think that Mesmer Jr is esp a product of her environment. Despite the fact that she cant bear to interact with her much, her and Sonetto are the most similar out of anyone: both of them were hand raised by Constantine who had an extremely heavy part in their childhoods. I have another post about how I think Constantine changed from the Storm, but it doesn't change the fact that objectively she's not only willing to lie and manipulate. She's willing to kill if it suits her end goal and what she deems the benefit of everyone. We won't know where the rest of the Mesmer family is until Mesmer Jr's character story most likely, but either way they left her in the hands of Constantine as a child. A person who was likely most affected and distressed by the change in terms of their future aspirations. While characters like Madam Z were grieving their past and the era they lived in being ripped from them, Constantine had a straight path to being one of the best vice directors in the Foundation's history. She was capable and born in an era without conflict until the Storm began. Ultimately the Mesmer family left Mesmer Jr, a talented arcanist who they had already exposed to the dangers of arcanum and the darker sides of hurting people, to a person who was willing to do anything to be a legacy.

I do agree that Mesmer Jr is bigoted, she's not hateful but she definitely holds a massive amount of resentment towards the mentally ill because it was a field she's been forced into. We also saw from Trista that the effects of awakening one's arcanum before a person can handle it has lasting and detrimental effects. In the first place, if Mesmer Jr had died, her family wouldn't have cared too much apart from the loss of her potential. We don't know much about their views yet and support of humanocentrism, or whether they would've sent Mesmer Jr to the SPDM had the Storm not existed. But in the current game, they did. Mesmer Jr and Sonetto each make up two halves of Constantine's self while being obedient pieces in her game of chess. Where Sonetto is picture perfect and reputable, the ideal arcanist to show off to others as a way to convince them that not all of them are "beyond reason", Mesmer Jr is a reflection of Constantine's ideals. In the end, both of them will eventually realize their actions at the hands of Constantine's manipulation. Sonetto will find out that Constantine used her trusted report that her friends were venturing out into the Storm as a reason to drive Vertin into being the Timekeeper. While Mesmer Jr will one day have to find out the secrets of the Artificial Somnambulism, how the artificial somnambulism isn't actually helping arcanists but temporarily calming them down by making the problem worse. Mesmer Jr believes that the St Pavlovs and Laplace is her salvation and safe haven, but one day she'll have to find out that the very legacy her family made and pushed her to continue is the source of all of her fears.

A Study on Mesmer Jr.

(Also Known As: Nott is obsessed with the bigot autistic girl from the time travel gacha game and its her birthday tommorow so lets talk about her.)

(CWs: Ableism, racism, child abuse) I Love Mesmer Jr. Which isn't a secret to any of my friends who have had to listen to me talk about her at length. I cannot get her out of my head. I think she's fantastically written, fun to read about, and just an all around interesting character.

As such, I want to take a moment to pull apart Mesmer Jr, and consider her place in this story. To contemplate why she acts the way she does, and to connect to the themes relating to her character. I hope you enjoy reading this.

A Curious Impression

Mesmer Jr makes an interesting impression when you first meet her. For one, she immediately causes alarm bells to rings when she talks to Sonneto, one of her earliest conversations, who she says she enjoys talking to because of their "shared values" she feels the need to say that she would have liked talking to her more if she were a "full-blooded human."

Which is something that you see a lot whenever she's complimenting an arcanist, or considering arcanists in any positive light. Even if it's inappropriate in the context, she feels the need to assert her beliefs, to say that:

Mesmer Jr, Praise: As an arcanist, your performance really amazes me. Wish you were a pure-blood human.

Of course, as we know, Mesmer Jr is an arcanist. She's a full-blooded arcanist. Being noted to be from a very Important family, and even being implied to be more talented than most of her family in their line of work: (The Fallacy of Idealism)

Nobody is more talented in this than Mesmer Jr. Her bloodline gives her outstanding ability and keen senses, which makes everything clear and intelligible to her.

She's also startlingly obedient. She has no noticeable outward negativity towards what Constantine has ordered her to do to Vertin, despite it seeming to cause pain or stress. Insisting that this is the normal treatment given to patients despite Madam Z's opinion, and we learn Much Later that her boss had an ulterior motive to all this.

She's even noted before we meet her to seem like a:

(Open Sandwich)

???: It is the other one- the one with indifferent outlines that makes her look like a refined machine.

Evoking images of perfectly programmed robots and droids that do what they are ordered to perfectly without question.

Of course, in the same part this line is from, the game is already nudging us to be open-minded when it comes to interacting with her. As the first thing we learn about her isn't her personality, isn't her appearance, isn't even her Voice.

It's her abuse.

Dirtied Hands

Open Sandwich is one of my favorite bits of writing in this game. It creates this incredible tension where you just waiting for the bad thing to happen, the line about how the child labor laws were turned into paper to wrap the sandwich is wonderful, and I love it.

But it's also the first time we ever actually hear about her. It depicts her having a Sensory Meltdown. Caused by her family's uh- blatant disregard for children's rights, and exposing her to a patient at age 12 because her skill was useful for the treatment. The trauma of the event marking the start of her "nightmare."

Of course this isn't the Only Thing she has gone through at the age of 12. The entire events of Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien happened during when she was 12. She might of had even more traumatic experience before that, considering she went to SPDM, a school that we know Very Well for their child abuse, and she Certainly had traumatic experiences afterwards.

She Is a 16 year old therapist taking care of The Foundation's most "unstable" patients, after all:

Mesmer Jr, Suitcase Climate: Those insane people screamed and rushed out of the guardroom. They kept meaninglessly and repeatedly roaring. Then, their blood shed on the snowy ground. I've seen that a lot.

The Rights of Children Don't Matter when there is Scarcity. Her needs are secondary to The Company's. Her welfare simply isn't important for the Foundation's Beautiful Future. Only the skills and infromation she can provide.

Constantine even manipulated Mesmer Jr into telling her the plan. Purposefully traumatizing her so that she would become scared and anxious. She Asked her to help them, trusting that Constantine, an adult she trusted, would be able to help. Constantine just lied, and made her continue to treat these people even when the experience mind numbingly traumatic for even fully-grown adults.

As a result, Mesmer Jr has developed multiple mental illnesses. Most notable OCD, but she seems to hallucinate in her Monologue.

She's not exactly a healthy person, which really compounds how much you Don't want her to be a therapist.

Of course, it's not like she would ever seek actual proper treatment for it.

For many reasons.

For one, Reverse 1999 is not exactly a kind world to the mentally ill, and she herself is a good example as to why.

Proper Treatment

Let's go back to the first thing I mentioned about Mesmer Jr. She's a bigot, she's a certified racist to every arcanist she ever talks to. She thinks humans are the superior race that will overtake arcanists.

She's also ableist. Just horrible ableist. These two bigotries are intertwined in Very important ways. Her hatred of arcanists is informed by her hatred of the mentally ill, and is further informed by what she has been taught about arcanists.

Reverse has established that the way arcanists and humans are generally viewed is that arcanists are the more emotional, unstable, immature ones and humans are the more logical, stable, and mature ones.

Now, this is a stereotype, one that has been proven wrong time and time again. There is nothing logical, stable, or mature about being so upset at a 12 year old you think killing her friends is a good idea.

And similarly, there is nothing actually inherently wrong about being a weirdo, or mentally ill. For one, uh, everyone is a bit of a freak sometimes, and two, Mesmer Jr treats it as if for the world to get better arcanists need to fully disappear and be replaced with human rationality, but Madam Hoffman says it best:

(Chapter 6 Part 15: With Hope Rekindled)

Hofmann: We have all heard it, humans are more rational and arcanists are more emotional. Hofmann: Their sensitive to the darkness of the world, so they can easily become absorbed in their own emotions and ignore reality Hofmann: But, if we put a human child in the position of an arcanist, who always takes on the world because of his uniqueness, who is never understood for his talents... Hoffmann: Maybe he too will become impulsive, sensitive immature and unstable Hoffmann: And that's why it sometimes dawns on me that if we put an arcanist child in the position of a human being who receives enough love, education, and positive feedback... Hoffmann: These 'instabilities' might be controllable. At least enough to keep them from hurting themselves or others.

But Mesmer Jr really does believe wholeheartedly that being a "freak" is bad, and that being an arcanist is to blame for why she is one.

Mesmer Jr, Hat and Hair: Thanks to it, we are all freaks now. Haven't you ever blamed your brain? Haven't you for once vomited due to the sound or whisper in your brain? How naive and ignorant.

That being an arcanist is something inherently wrong, and as a result of that inherent wrongness, that inherent "insanity," they need to be controlled by humanity.

Mesmer Jr, Chitchat II: I can only stand those arcanists from the Foundation and the Laplace. After all, their insanity is contained by humans.

She believes that humans are destined to overtake arcanists like it's natural selection. That it's only inevitable that arcanists will be overtaken by a species that in her eyes, is logical and understandable.

Mesmer Jr, To the Future: Just like Homo sapiens wiped out Neanderthals, arcanists will be eliminated as well. This is not a prediction, but a predestined fate.

This is, of course, due to the systemic part of Reverse's world constantly pushing this idea that arcanists are Inherently more immature and chaotic.

Constantine and her family deeply traumatized Mesmer Jr and then told her it wasn't actually their fault but this Other Group that She is also apart of but Don't Worry it can Be Controlled.

Mesmer Jr: It's not just about age. It was never going to be suitable for me. Mesmer Jr: Unless one day all the arcanists are gone. Pandora Wilson: Then you and I will be gone, too. Mesmer Jr: Exactly, along with the source of my pain

However, Mesmer Jr's own mental illnesses and susceptibility towards being overwhelmed by others emotions does really mean that she finds being around highly emotional people Taxing. She also finds that the unpredictable of life and other people Tiresome.

She was friends with Vertin in the rest when she was younger sure, but even then she did find arcanists overwhelming and "scary," even when she wasn't in the full thick of it, she saw them being treated and found it unpleasant and painful.

(Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien)

Mesmer Jr: But I'm not interested in arcanists. They are all mad people, and we had to treat them after all...They looked scary.

Now, usually, you grow out of this. She's not Born To Be Racist Forever.

In a better world she very much could have, I dunno-

Be able to actually internalize that arcanists aren't actually inherently a harmful thing, but that her needs sometimes conflict with the needs of others and grew up with the tools necessary to understand that this is a fixable problem that doesn't actually need a whole group of people including herself to die to be solved.

Or, something like that.

However, this isn't that world, this world thinks Mesmer Jr is a good therapist, and that her treatment is humane.

So she's seeks to create stability in the world as a result of that lack of support.

Mesmer Jr, Hobby: What you see is the alignment and tidiness. What I adore is this orderly state.

As much as she understands that it's a sign of her own "franticness" that she does this, it gives her comfort knowing that she has things that she Can Control. That her life isn't actually dictated fully by things out of her understanding. That she has the ability to direct her life in a small, maybe even insignificant way.

Cause, she really just doesn't have much control over her life.

Press the Button

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: ...Achieve the function.

A lot of Mesmer Jr's idolization of humanity comes from this idea of efficiency and simplicity. She talks so much about rationality and "tidiness," but as I've already established Reverse is full of so many instances of "human insanity" so it's plain ignorant to ascribe this trait to humans.

Which, well one she is ignorant, and also racism isn't rational and Mesmer Jr was taught human supremacy of course it's not going to be aligned with actual reality.

Which is true.

However, I do think it's interesting these traits that she idolizes are not from humans but from:

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: Humans are like machinery, simple and efficient. Arcanists are quite the opposite.

That's who she's actually idolizing here, isn't it? She's not really idolizing humans, that's just the framework she was given. She's idolizing machines and going "Wow humans are so cool."

Her Udimo is a machine.

Not just any machine, but a machine invented in part By Her Workplace, and even when she was 12 the narrator describes her as a "refined machine." Indifferent and rigid.

This is the beautiful controlled being that she is seeking! The beautiful tidy, orderly, calm being that just proceeds with whatever order is given to it. One that has...completely no control over it's life, and what to do with it.

Because, traditionally speaking, Machines do not have the ability to self-determine. They don't exist as people with conscious thought and emotion, but as Things and Tools that can Achieve Functions.

I noted way back in the start that Mesmer Jr is startlingly obedient. She does what she is told, and encourages others to do the same.

She's glad that Vertin:

Mesmer Jr, 100% Bond Conversation: ...Anyway, I'm glad you gave up on those insane plans.

Before saying that she doesn't want to be forced to Lobotomize Her, and that she doesn't actually want anyone to end up in Artificial Somnambulism.

But she doesn't say she won't do it. Just that she's happy Vertin did "give up" because it means that she probably won't have to. This seems to be her general approach. Even if she's not happy, she'll do it, her wants don't matter.

She assumes that she has no other option and that her only path forward is following orders from her boss. That the only path forward is the one set for her. There's no point in fighting it so she's just gonna continue on that path, and others should do the same or else they'll get Hurt. Learned Helplessness.

Sonetto is similar to her in this sense (Mesmer Jr says so herself,) and Sonetto is shown to hold quite a lot of repressed emotions, and to deviate from the rules or what is logical when she feels something is at stake.

After all: (Is ABA Really “Dog Training for Children”? A Professional Dog Trainer Weighs In.)

We all know that we can feel angry without expressing anger. That we can smile when inside we are crying. You can stop someone from expressing an emotion, but that doesn’t make the emotion go away. A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.” When you read about a dog attack that came “out of nowhere” and “without warning,” it is because this sort of method was used to handle “problem behaviours.” Studies show that dogs trained with these sorts of methods actually have an increased rate of aggression, because punishing aggressive behaviour doesn’t deal with the underlying fear and anxiety that caused the aggression in the first place.

But Mesmer Jr, in contrast to Sonetto, who has an interest in poetry and curiosity in the outside world and has the aforementioned repressed emotions. Has no real distinct personal identity. She does not own anything that shows her interests, unlike her other coworkers who usually have at least Something on them. All of her items are stuff made by Laplace and exist unaltered. Even her cute little headband is a EM amplifier is part of the uniform.

She holds no control, no identity, no agency. She exists as a machine that someone can press the buttons of and achieve whatever function she needs to achieve at the given moment.

This is her current state of existence, and it's not something that's exactly sustainable. The cracks in this machine-living have been showing since she was 12. How many more do you think have been created now that she's 16?

The Foundation

Now, this is really depressing, but that's because Mesmer Jr is just a bit of a depressing character. She can't really get away from her job. For one, her parents are horrible, two The Storm means that the world is always on the verge of ending. Where else will she go?

But, as said previously:

A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.”

Similarly, a girl trained to not develop any sort of identity will crack Someday.

I have no knowledge of what could happen next in her story, nor am I interested in theorizing about it. But I do find it interesting to think about.

[devils-urge]

⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀THE FUTURE OF FOOTBALLㅤׂ haaland⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀✧

Since arriving at City he's scored 20 goals in 13 games! That includes 15 in the Premier League and five in the Champions League.

He has also become the first player to score hat-tricks in three games, back to back, and has already scored as many Premier League hat-tricks as Cristiano Ronaldo and Jamie Vardy

And get this - despite it just being October, he's just eight goals away from last season's Premier League top scorers Mohamed Salah and Son Heung-min, with 23 each!

The Norway goal machine joined City from German club Borussia Dortmund for 60m euros (£51.2m).

Haaland is a still rising star in the game, and along with Kylian Mbappé he's looking to take over in the legend stakes from Ronaldo and Messi.

Here are some cool things you need to know about one of the hottest properties in world football.

(　˘ᵕ˘　)　　﹒　WHO'S HAALAND?　⋌　　﹒　

He was born in the city of Leeds, England, on July 21, 2000. Haaland was born in Leeds, as his father, Alf-Inge, played in English football. The striker even admitted that his favorite team is Leeds United. His mother, Gry Marita Braut, also comes from the sport. She practiced heptaplo, being national champion in this modality of athletics. In 2004, at the age of three, he moved to the city of Bryne, located in Norway. In addition to playing football, Haaland played several other sports as a child, including handball, golf and athletics. In 2006, at the age of five, he won the world record for the standing long jump, with a recorded distance jumped of 1.63 meters.

Haaland's incredible goal-scoring ability is reflected in the numerous records he has already broken. For example, he became the first player in history to score six goals in his first three Champions League matches, and he also became the youngest player to score 20 goals in the competition

Haaland, on the other hand, reads play expertly – both his team-mates and opponents – and has an intuition of where the space will present itself. "Why does Erling Haaland score so many goals? Because he's capable of scoring so many different types of goals," Adam says.

Erling Haaland is rapid, and it benefits his team massively. It makes him far more versatile. Not only can he hold up the ball, but he can also receive balls in behind. The strength that he has, coupled with his speed, makes him a powerful opponent.

Erling Haaland is the best player in the world right now, and he has transformed Manchester City from a great team into one that is capable of blowing everyone else away this season. Just ask Manchester United, beaten 6-3 at the Etihad on Sunday, following another Haaland hat trick.

(　˘ᵕ˘　)　　﹒　HAALAND'S BIGGEST INSPIRATIONS　⋌　CR7 & ALFIE　　﹒　

From a very young age Haaland has not had a great admiration for strikers who are great like Lionel Messi, Neymar Jr, Karim Benzema or Robert Lewandowski. Players that all the teams in the world want because of his great talent.

Erling has great admiration for these three forwards. The reason is because Haaland reflects on them and they have a lot of similarities to his style of play. These soccer players have inspired the Norwegian striker to have a brilliant career.

"Zlatan Ibrahimovic, Cristiano (Ronaldo) and Michu" are the strikers who inspire me and are my idols. Erling Haaland said in an interview conducted in 2021 when he was a Borussia Dortmund player.

(　˘ᵕ˘　)　　﹒FUN FACTS ABOUT HAALAND　　⋌　　　﹒　

Erling Haaland zodiac sign is Cancer. He shares his birthday with many great stars from football and other fields.

At this part we will look at the facts about Erling Haaland Childhood and the family and background he grew up in.

Erling Haaland was born into a football-loving family. His mother, was a famous athlete who even won a national title in heptathlon. His father, Alfie was a professional footballer at the top level of English football. 

Alfie Haaland had a successful career as a footballer and even reached the level necessary to play for the likes of Leeds United and  Manchester City. That’s actually why Erling was born in Leeds, although he comes from a Norwegian family.

Erling Haaland childhood was very much about Sports. Growing up in a family of professionals, Erling was destined to become an athlete from childhood.

One cool fact about Erling Haaland is that he broke the world record for longest standing jump for five-year olds when he was, well, five years old. More surprisingly, no one has broken His 1.63m record to this day.

Erling started his amateur career right from age 5 at the Byrne academy in his hometown. According to his coaches at the time, Haaland was so good that he immediately was promoted to higher ranks. He continued his rise until his first professional contract as a teenager.