#i feel like someone came into my house and completely renovated the ground floor and added a sun room and an herb garden

[vinelark]

the real exciting timkon news in my world is that @feyburner is writing a timkon fic that is going to launch us all into the sun

[pixieungerstories]

Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole.  1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions.  Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth.  I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off.  None of the windows were smashed.  There were mature fruit trees in the backyard.  If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential.  The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced.  The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did.  It had a boiler.  I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning.  And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler.  The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them.  It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually.  It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house.  I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make.  I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound.  The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul.  Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen.  Not exciting, but satisfying.  Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access.  Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse.  I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in.  I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it.  The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch.  It was fine.  I understood completely.  I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all. 

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine.  I was young and healthy.  I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever?  I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight.  I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips.  I was so fucking thirsty. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me.  Chicken noodle out of a can.  It’s not that hard to make.  I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep.  Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night.  I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card.  So was the mattress and sheets.  It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them.  I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom?  I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors.   I must be losing my mind.  I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work.  I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down.  I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not.  I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.  

The watched feeling was worse.  I ordered some rat traps with my groceries.  I didn’t catch anything.  They didn’t take the bait.  I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning.  That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself.  Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud.  “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure.  “At least it is some sound,” I muttered.  “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback.  I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms.  The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks.  When I needed to actually go out, that might help.  In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind.  Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet.  Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.”  Shit.  I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily.  I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early.  In the morning there were footprints in the dust.  They weren’t mine.  They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human.  Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside.  I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house.  I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?”  I called from the doorway, ready to run.  I had no idea where I could even run to.  “Um…  Is anyone there?”  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Hi?  Um ….  I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here.  I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck.  The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting.  “I … uh…  I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here?  Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit.  That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said.  Oh.  “No, that was an accident.  I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that.  I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette.  I hadn’t smoked in years.    The sun started to go down and the bugs came out.  I was being eaten alive outside.  Going inside was scary but he was right.  He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door.  “Did you order furniture on my credit card?”  I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy.  I shivered and thought about going back outside.  The door pulled itself closed behind me.  I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything.  I could hear something breathing. I turned again.  Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear.  Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now.  “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence.  Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room.  I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing.  I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate.  I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon.  “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet.  “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief.  I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now.  You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove.  My breakfast dishes were gone.  I found them clean and dry in the cupboard.  “Thank you,” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet.  The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating.  Or washing and drying the dishes.  I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor.  Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there.  I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it.  It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me.  I spun, there was nothing there.  “Do not open that door.  Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant.  I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again.  I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on.  Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen.  I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big.  He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong.  I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped.  “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows.  Go to bed.”

“Um…  I was thinking, that should be your room, really.  Your closet.  You picked out the bed.  I can just camp down -”

“No.  Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened?  I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I.  The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out.  “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that.  “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me?  What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep.  You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?”  he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”  

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one.  Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six.  It had been turned off.  The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs.  The air smelled faintly of solder.  There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker.  Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly.  I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home.  The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom.  I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone. 

Well, not gone.  I could see it installed through the holes in the walls.  I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water.  I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out.  Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months.  I tried all the taps and the toilet.  Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.”  It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker.  Nothing happened.  I growled as I plugged it in.  The power went out.

“Oh come on!  Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.”  It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t.  I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window.  The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days.  I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too.  Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it.  I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh!  Dude!  You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath.  “OK.  Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue.  “Do you?  Eat I mean.  Do you eat?  What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me.  I am not going to eat you.  Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden.  I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself.  The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie.  I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started.  Right! I thought.  Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends.  Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out.  That was just a thing now.  My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me.  That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others.  I hit the mute button.  “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you.  What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled.  I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago.  Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks.  Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go.  It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah.  Good night.”  After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat.  “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear.  I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed.  Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me.  The hands on my arms were cool and smooth.  “What are you?”

“I am me.  I have not asked your name.  You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail.  And my credit card.  You know my name,”  I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try.  “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side.  The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer.  The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.  

I sat frozen.  “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down.  I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”  

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut.  I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs.  I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix.  This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache.  I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

[spacesnail3000]

Let It Snow - Chapter 1/4: Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Word Count: 4,049

Warnings: Dark!Steve Rogers, stalking, ABO dynamics, mating cycles/heat, noncon and dubcon, very explicit sexual content in future chapters (18+ ONLY)

A/N: Remember when I said I had an ABO one-shot planned and it was gonna be really filthy? Remember when I said that I would have it out before Christmas? Well it took me like three weeks but I did it and I basically piled all my kinks into one story hahahah sorry guys. 

Here is the first installment of this new story!

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

X

She hadn’t wanted to go—not that day, not on a Friday, not with all this snow. There were a few other reasons that she was too shy to tell him about, but Steve knew. He knew everything about her.

Compared to when they left the city, the snow was coming down heavy when they finally reached the cabin an hour away from Lake Placid. Steve’s speeding had cut the six-hour drive into three, and throughout the entire trip he had feigned ignorance of her white-knuckles on the door handle, the sound of her racing heart, the blood draining from her face as he took sharp mountain turns at fifty miles per hour. 

He had insisted on the whole thing, really.

“Steve, it’s just a really inconvenient time.”

“I know, but it’s the only day I have available until after January. I need you to see the inside so you can choose some furniture.”

“That can wait, Steve—"

“And I was really hoping to have the plans for the backyard done by next weekend so we can start arranging it with the landscaper. I have an appointment with him in two weeks.”

She sighed, heavy. Long fingers plucked her reading glasses from her face and they fell with a clatter against her desk. “I already have so much to plan for the barracks Tony wants to add to the compound.”

He mimicked her sigh, laced with just a hint of annoyance. “Well… If you can’t help me out I suppose I could hire someone else, but you’re really the only person who knows what I like and need.”

Steve hit his mark, her face crumpling with guilt. “It’s just so far away.” A thumb pressed against the bridge of her nose and her eyes fluttered closed, long lashes brushing her cheekbones. “It’s six hours, Steve.”

“Then we’ll leave early,” he said simply. “Seven o’clock? You know how fast I drive. We’d be back by evening.” When she still seemed unconvinced, he kneeled down in front of her and took her hand in his, locking her gaze to him with the earnest expression in his vibrant blue eyes. “Please? You’ve got me on my knees. I’m begging now.” A hint of a smile flashed across her face and he continued. “Are you happy? The woman to topple Captain America—and it’s his architect. Please? How much more do I have to beg?”

By the time he finished, the teasing lilt to his tone had gotten to her, and she was giggling and trying to pull away. “Fine!” she finally cried and her hands slipped from his as she got to her feet, pacing away from him and his intense gaze, trying to put more space between them in her small office.

“You’ll go?” he asked brightly, turning to face her.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she acquiesced. Then she pointed at him with a lilac-painted fingernail. “But you owe me, Rogers.”

He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

X

It had taken months, but he had planned everything perfectly—he hoped. He was a master tactician, could formulate and revise logistical plans blindfolded. Each component was perfectly laid out, his strategy flawless. He had a backup plan, and a backup plan to his backup plan, and potential solutions to every possible contingency. The espionage he had undertaken, the careful preparation of the day before them—it had been in the works since the previous spring, but it would be worth it.

He had met Tony’s personal architect first when she was planning out the additions to the Avenger’s Compound. She was responsible for most of the new buildings, and as they had been built, he had seen more and more of her as she oversaw the construction. Immediately he had been drawn to her—kind, competent, certainly adept at overseeing architectural projects, but with a docile streak running through her.

When he had introduced himself, she had looked down, respectfully avoiding his eyes, giving a polite smile, shaking his hand with a delicate grip. The scent coming off of her was delectable, sweet and fresh, earthy and cozy, something distinctly homey.

Out of all the women Steve had ever met, the perfect Omega for him showed up at just the right time.

Then the third time he had seen her, there was something more. Something a little heady, something rich in her scent. Of course, he recognized it at once. She had looked a little tired, a little flushed, and her hand was so warm when he shook it. When he had run his thumb along her knuckles and his index finger up across the inside of her wrist, he had felt the fluttering of her radial pulse, more rapid than usual, and that’s when he realized that her heat was coming on and he had barely restrained himself from taking her right there.

He didn’t, of course, nor did he say anything to her about the change in her scent or the way her body was preparing to be bred.

Next time he saw her, a week later, he had simply smiled and asked, “How do you feel?”

She had looked at him with a tilt of her head, a nervous smile, but he moved on before she could respond and asked her if the materials and support structure of the training facilities would hold up against a team of superheroes.

X

It took time, but they became acquainted more and more. She was almost always on the grounds, overseeing building, or meeting with Tony about new plans. She made him feel at home, but frustratingly, their relationship remained professional at all times, one-sided, even. It was as if he didn’t affect her the same way she affected him, her scent wrapping around him every time he was in her vicinity like smoky tendrils, a homemade meal, custom-made just for him.

But he knew, in his heart, that she would feel the same about him, if she just gave him a chance.

Then he overheard Natasha asking about any potential significant others in her life, and she replied that she doesn’t date while she’s working on big projects.

Steve didn’t want to admit his initial anger at that, the hurt deep inside his heart, as if it was a personal rejection of him. For a few days afterwards, he had even ignored her, avoiding running his routes around the new constructions, turning away every time he saw her in the meeting rooms or cafeteria. Then, he came up with a plan.

That was all over a year ago.

The first step of Steve’s plan was to hire her to plan and build a house for him in the Adirondacks. A hefty investment, sure, but one that would be worth it in the end. At the very least, it ensured that she remained single, off the market to any other Alphas threatening to swoop up a beautiful sweet little Omega like her.

Now, more than six months after he approached her with the initial proposal, the house was almost completed. It had provided more than enough time for Steve to get to know her. Bringing her breakfast or lunch during their scheduled planning meetings, finding out all of her tastes and preferences as they went through the process. He deferred to her judgement on the house more often than not.

“What would you do? I can’t decide on an open or closed floor concept. I don’t know enough about this stuff.”

She had flourished under his gentle praise and request for guidance. It certainly helped that every time he praised her, he sensed her getting warmer, her heartrate increasing.

“This is perfect. This plan looks so great. You’re so good at this.”

Every shy smile and mumble of thanks was his undoing. 

Like a flower growing throughout the sudden appearance of spring, she had opened up to him, telling him about her friends, her family, her interests, her hobbies. Gradually, she let him into her life—only ever as friends, not anything more, but the promise was there. Once, he had asked her out to dinner, but she had declined and explained to him, an apology on her lips, that she doesn’t date clients, and she doesn’t date during projects.

“Then I guess I’ll have to ask again once the house is done and I’m not your client anymore, won’t I?”

Oh, he loved how flustered she got.

X

It was easier to get into her house than into her mind or soul—of course, it helped that she worked from home, a little brownstone in Brooklyn.

When he had complimented the house, she mentioned it was her childhood home, renovated recently once she took ownership. Raised in Brooklyn, as if she couldn’t be more perfect for Steve.

It didn’t take much to break into the house when she was out—off overseeing construction of the cabin, or getting groceries, or going for a run. When he visited her for their appointments, he usually only saw the front entrance and the hall leading to her home office. When he got the chance to be in the house unhindered, he thoroughly explored the entire place.

Mediterranean-themed interior décor, which she had done all by herself. Beige and cream color palate with bright pops of color, teals and yellows and vibrant green house plants everywhere. A slight coastal theme, bright and airy and still so cozy.

The kitchen, everything immaculate. She liked to cook and bake, and she had countless tools and appliances for it. One time, she had given him a taste of her homemade almond cookies, nutty and sweet, crystalized almonds on top that melted in his mouth.

Most of the living room was commanded by a cozy sectional sofa with soft cream blankets and more throw pillows than he could count. A vase full of lavender flowers, a few candles with wooden wicks. Vintage sconces and a restored fireplace. A grey cat laid on the back of the sofa, blinking up at him disinterestedly. Still, it let Steve pet it, a few brisk strokes behind the ears and it was purring.

The bedroom smelled like her. It was so potent, he almost blacked out with how quickly the blood rushed to his cock. She had scent diffusers downstairs, but upstairs, her scent permeated the air, the linens, the walls.

He bent before her bed and sniffed the scent on her pillow. She hadn’t made the bed that morning—she had to be in the mountains by noon to receive updates from the construction manager, and it clearly hadn’t crossed her mind in the rush.

Steve appreciated it, as the sheets still had a slight hint of that sleepy Omega smell. There was a duvet and at least five fluffy blankets, along with a handful of feather pillows scattered across the bed. He inspected each blanket and pillow, their different designs and fabrics and pillowcases. He found one pillow tucked underneath the duvet, twisted around, a hint of that heady scent wafting up towards Steve.

He brought the pillow to his face, breathing in deeper, scenting her arousal concentrated in one part in particular. It was still a little damp and he could only imagine her rubbing her slick pussy against the soft silk pillowcase until she came, crying out, clutching the makings of the nest around her, cozy and warm and so, so domestic—sweet little Omega, yearning for an Alpha to take care of her—

It took all his concentration to not come in his pants right there.

After taking care of the aching problem in his trousers, Steve explored her bathroom, looking individually at each toiletry and makeup product strewn across her vanity. 

All of her food, her cleaning supplies, her cosmetics—everything in her home was natural, organic, and eco-friendly. She had mentioned once that she tried to be environmentally conscious, and he could see it manifested everywhere in her life. Steve liked that about her—it reminded him of a simpler time, before plastic covered the entire planet, before mass production of pointless garbage littered everyone’s lives.

He suspected that had something to do with her not being on suppressants, either—which he confirmed over some months based how potent her scent seemed to be and how it changed in depth and tone over her cycle.

Not until his third walkthrough of her house alone—she was out with a friend doing yoga and getting coffee, a Saturday morning ritual for her—did he see the calendar. It was pinned to the wall next to her bed, each month with different pastries as the cover photo. There, in blue pen, from the 12th to the 16th, five little H’s marked in the corner of each date.

He knew it must signify her heat. And he knew she wasn’t on suppressants, that she had heats before—and looking back through her calendar, her heats were very regular, every month on the dot. But now he knew, now he had a way to find out when her monthly mating period would begin, when she would be ripe for his taking.

Another piece of his plan fell into place.

Designing the outline of the cabin took less than a month and from that point until the end of construction, five months, Steve took a great effort to get to know her more. 

He would bring her treats to their meetings; scones, cookies, coffee. Often, he would try to schedule the appointments for midday, if only to have the opportunity with each meeting to ask her for lunch after they had finished discussing all their business. 

She showed him so much of Brooklyn that he didn’t realize had changed, and he showed her a few places that hadn’t, since the war. 

Sometimes she would dress up for him. Instead of dress pants and blazers, she would wear long skirts and dresses that accentuated her curves—not too sexy, though; sweet, but still modest. Although he loved when she wore pink lipstick—simple and elegant—she would sometimes don darker shades, deep reds and purples, and he had to admit it made his Alpha rumble inside.

By the time the house was built, it was only November. Tony contracted her to build a new barracks near the compound, and Steve was running out of time. The perfect circumstances never arose. He had asked her on dates, but she was too busy, out of town for most of December for a conference and then for the holidays, always declining his advances with a soft smile and regretful apology. 

Time passed into the New Year and Steve still hadn’t claimed her heart.

Steve needed some kind of excuse to keep her in his life. He was getting desperate.

When he had asked her to do the interior decorating for his new house, she blanched. 

“I’m not much of an interior decorator, Steve.” It had taken months to get her to call him Steve instead of Captain Rogers. It was necessary for the progression of their relationship although Steve’s cock twitched every time she used his formal title.

“I like the way your house is decorated. Can’t you do something like that for me?” The look of sweet hope on his face was too overbearing, she had to look away.

“You haven’t even seen the rest of my house. Only the office.”

“Then why don’t you show me?” 

Of course, he had already seen the entire house—many times, in fact. Still, he let her give him a full tour of the house, and at the end, he asked her again to do the decorating for his house. Mercifully, she accepted.

X

Her next heat was coming up—he knew based on her calendar and her delectable scent. It was scheduled over the long weekend, and much to Steve’s delight, there was also a blizzard coming their way for the exact same dates, the middle of January and the peak of winter providing the perfect conditions for his plot. 

Getting her to agree to the journey up to the Adirondacks was easier than he had anticipated; the guilt-trip worked wonders on her, his submissive, sweet Omega. 

He had picked her up early that morning, his big truck parked illegally in front of her brownstone as he knocked on the door and waited for her, coffee and pastries in hand to gain her favor.

When she opened the door, she looked perfect, dressed in a collared white dress and black tights, classy and beautiful, skin vibrant with that pre-heat glow, lips painted a berry pink. 

“Hi, Steve,” she breathed, clearly having rushed downstairs for the door. Her scent wafted through the house and out the door, burying him in her sweet scent, more woodsy than usual with her impending heat. “Let me just get my shoes and a jacket. Oh—is that for me?” Her eyes zeroed in on the coffee.

He nodded, handing it to her. “Got your usual.”

She sipped from the cup and let out a contented sigh, perfect pink tongue darting out to lick a droplet from her upper lip. Steve didn’t know how he managed to contain himself. “Perfect. Thank you, Steve. Just give me a minute—oh—come on in. I won’t be long.” She came back downstairs minutes later in pointy heels and a peacoat, and she was ready to go.

The truck was lifted rather high off the ground, necessary for off-roading in the Adirondacks, so she always needed a little boost, and he helped her this time with his hands on her hips, lower than he would usually place them. From the breathless smile she gave him before he closed the passenger side door, she didn’t seem to mind.

Throughout the car ride up to the cabin, she was tense and stiff; whether it was due to his speeding or her heat, Steve wasn’t sure. However, he could smell her scent growing heavier by the minute, and he made sure to crank the heat up in the car to amplify it. He was rock hard in his pants the entire way, but she had been distracted from that by his reckless driving and the snow coming down from the sky. 

He had lost count of the number of times she asked him to slow down, only to be silenced when he pointed out that he would have to drive fast if she wanted to be back in the city by nightfall. 

“It’s snowing pretty hard.” Her voice was soft as she looked out the window at the ice piling up on the side of the road. It was almost whiting out the windshield, and Steve would have been worried about driving in this weather if Tony hadn’t decked out the truck with plenty of enhancements, to include chains on the wheels and sensors to enhance navigation in dangerous conditions.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” he said, keeping his tone casual, unconcerned. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you.” She was thrumming with worry and it was starting to take over her heat scent, the sharp tinge of anxiety growing stronger. He tried to distract her with conversation. “You know, I stayed up here the other weekend. It was pretty nice. You did a great job.”

She looked flustered at the praise, and he could already smell that heady scent again. “Oh?”

“I was sleeping on an air mattress, though. It was kind of cold until I got enough wood for the fire. I’ve brought some supplies up with us today because I’ll be staying there over the weekend.” True to his word, in the back of his truck, he had plenty of blankets, pillows, and food supplies for them to use over the next week.

“That sounds nice…” she mumbled. 

“Yeah, I think it’ll be relaxing. Not having to be around so many people. What’re your plans?”

She seemed embarrassed, looking down at her knees, picking at the black tights she wore. “I’ll be alone, too. It’s not… not a great time…”

Steve knew, because of her heat, she wouldn’t be able to be around others for the long weekend. However, he feigned ignorance and frowned. “Oh, why is that? Everything okay?”

She nodded hastily. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine…” He didn’t push her because he could smell the scent on her growing stronger. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and he noticed she was squirming in her seat every now and then. He could smell her building arousal, sense her quickening heartbeat, hear her heavy breathing. 

Her pre-heat was hitting her hard, which meant her heat was approaching faster than he had anticipated.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah… It’s hot in here… is it hot in here?”

Her hand shot out to lower the temperature in the car, but he caught her hand in his. “I thought it was cold.” The concern in his tone was contrived but sounded convincing to her. “You’re so warm.” His fingers brushed along her wrist, and he could hear the way her breath shuddered in her chest. One eye still on the road, he brought his hand up to feel her forehead, pressing the back of his fingers against her temple, her cheek, her neck. “You’re burning up.”

He could feel her tremble, the flutter of her heartbeat in her carotid artery. All too suddenly, she pushed his hand away, voice shaking as she spoke, “Y-yeah, I’m okay, Steve. I’m fine. Just a little under the weather.”

“How long have you been feeling sick?”

“Uh—uhm… not long… but I don’t want to… to… get you sick.”

By that point, they were pulling up the long road to the cabin. Steve sent her a reassuring smile. “I have the serum, sweetheart, you can’t get me sick. Don’t worry—I’ll take care of you.”

She was silent then, but every bump on the rocky dirty road made her squirm in her seat, thighs clenching together. Her breathing was still labored, and when he parked, he quickly rushed to her side of the car to help her get out, hands on her waist making her shiver. 

Once she was outside, she took a deep breath, hands clinging to Steve’s jacket as she let the cool air consume her. Snowflakes fell down into her hair, on her cheeks and eyelashes, a crown of crystalized ice piling on her head, but she didn’t seem to notice the blustery weather as she relaxed into Steve’s arms. 

“Is the cool air helping a little?” he asked, lips close to her ear so she could hear him over the heavy winds.

She nodded absently, eyes closed, but he knew it wasn’t the cool air. It was his touch—skin contact with a strong Alpha, exactly what she needed right now. After a moment or two, he adjusted his grip, arms encompassing her, and she didn’t notice herself when she turned her face in towards Steve’s neck, deeply breathing in his scent, drifting closer and closer until her nose was pressed against his scent glands through his sweater.

“Omega,” he growled, half in questioning and half in warning. It was enough to snap her out of her trance, movements sharp as she pulled away from Steve’s embrace and distanced herself from him.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, pressing her hands to her heated face. “I—I—I—” She was shaking, shocked at her behavior, nervous about the implications. 

“It’s okay, darling,” he said, approaching her with hands raised. “How do you feel?”

Closing her eyes again, she took another few deep breaths, this time faced away from Steve. Finally, she sighed, and nodded. “Better. The fresh air is helping.” He maintained a concerned expression until she turned back towards the house. “Let’s get going. It’s snowing pretty hard.”

Indeed it was, fat flakes coming down harder and harder the more they stood outside, falling on their heads and shoulders and soaking into their hair and clothes. The ground was covered in a thick blanket already, and the wind was picking up more and more.

She hadn’t realized yet, but Steve knew that by the time they were finished looking over the house, the snow would be too deep to drive in, and they would be trapped here for the duration of her heat.

[theunvanquishedzims]

Where is my fic of Steve Rogers, Matt Murdoch, and Kurt Wagner bonding over being bi Catholic superhero drama queens. Where do they talk about their personal struggles with sexuality and faith growing up in the 1940s, a Catholic orphanage, and a German circus run by witches. (Were they witches? I remember magic and a giant demon lady and it turned out to be his adopted mother and sister, who he was also dating because they weren’t THAT kind of brother and sister.)

I want Steve to run into Matt shortly after being defrosted, maybe at the gym Matt boxes at. Boxing was a national pastime and now it’s fallen by the wayside in favor of more glamorous fighting styles. It’s nice to just get in a ring and punch someone, and they’re surprisingly compatible fighters, both slightly too fast and hitting too hard, coming out the other side grinning bloody teeth at each other. Matt smoothly lying (telling the truth) about his blindness forcing him to focus on his opponent until he can almost predict their movements. Steve fumbling with the cover story SHIELD gave him about being a soldier recently returned from war, being slightly too honest about feeling out of touch and like he wouldn’t fit in normal life with everything he’s seen and done in the war.

I want Matt to show up at SHIELD next Sunday morning to pick Steve up for church completely unasked, Steve fumbling into the nicest clothes he owns that isn’t a dress uniform, Matt loaning him a tie and whisking him across the city to Hell’s Kitchen. Matt whispering cues through the service, remembering John Mulaney at the last minute and hissing the correct words so Steve doesn’t say AND ALSO WITH YOU. Pointing out the priest he confesses to that can handle the mention of beating up bad guys without running screaming. Going out to lunch and discussing how Matt’s church is different from Steve’s old one, going back to Foggy’s to watch that John Mulaney show because he’s the only one they know with a tv, Foggy groaning over there being TWO of them.

Months or years later, running into Kurt at the Tower because Tony’s the one who developed the image inducer technology. Steve’s heightened vision being able to pick out the micro nuances where the hologram doesn’t quite keep up, most people would be able to shrug it off with a vague sense of unease, but they stand out to him like glowing red flags. Matt just feeling the buzzing and prickle of electricity all over his--skin? Fur? This man is very hairy and also has a tail. Why is no one saying anything about the tail. Steve almost citizen/Avenger-arrests him but Tony comes to vouch for him and they have their little Mutants Among Us revelation in the private upper floors. Steve apologizes very sincerely and they chat about Germany and circuses, another nearly-bygone relic that Steve misses. Matt is feeling left out, but jumps in when Kurt mentions being Catholic.

After that they’ve got weekly mass and lunches, and hey friendship is weird but wonderful. They give each other fashion tips! Kurt is European and flamboyant, Steve is solidly insisting that the only improvement on slacks and a button-up is a leather jacket, and Matt is literally blind. They get by. Matt introduces them to his tailor, after some private talks Kurt brings all his pants in and gets proper tail holes incorporated. Steve gets sticker shock every time he goes to a department store, but being able to buy at thrift stores and get them fitted is much more in line with his upbringing. Matt’s wardrobe gets some splashes of color that Kurt meticulously coordinates and bans him from freestyling with.

Weirdly enough it takes a really long time for the superhero thing to come up. Like a reeeeaaaaaally long time. Like shading into identity porn amounts of time. Not on purpose. Steve Rogers is a popular name in the US and doubly so in military families, nobody connects Steve the Army vet with Captain America unless they’re majorly into WWII military history, and the kind of guy who’s majorly into WWII military history is the kind of guy Steve tends to avoid outside of bar fights and university lectures. Everyone thinks the new Captain America guy is an Army recruitment stunt anyway.

Matt is blind, has had several high-profile cases against mob families, and lives in a dangerous part of town, nobody is surprised when he shows up places looking a little roughed up and growling about the darkness in mankind’s souls. Concerned, yes, ready to take on the mob, yes, surprised, no. He likes punching things though, so they leave it when he says he’s got it handled. A lot of debate stems from Matt’s growling, they all have strong opinions about morality and crime and institutional oppression. They have varying degrees of optimism/pessimism about God’s judgement and forgiveness, and wildly different ideas about the criminal justice system. (Again: 1940s soldier, US lawyer, and minority immigrant whose typical response to legal authorities is: *smashes a 40 on the ground* SCATTER!)

Tony introduced Kurt and told them he was engineering him the image inducer, but neglected to mention that it was part of his deal with the X-Men to field test his tech*. Nobody knows what he does for a living. Performer? Translator? Model? Escort? He knows a lot of rich people, like the Starks and Worthingtons and Frosts. He travels pretty frequently and brings them back souvenirs. Foggy is just happy that there is someone cheerful and level-headed in Matt and Steve’s Fight Club of a friendship, until Kurt backflips into the boxing ring with a fencing sword and shouts HAVE AT THEE, and oh no there’s THREE of them now.

(Tony is one of the silent investors in the X-Men. It started as just donating an old mansion the Stark family had to house at-risk “genetic minority” youth, then he wanted to help with the renovations to make it suitable for young mutants to practice controlling their powers, and then everyone got a little carried away and suddenly there were some extra basement floors. A few super computers. Something called a Danger Room, which is a misnomer because it’s totally safe, Tony promises. Possibly a donated jet or two, though they shot down his idea of painting it school bus yellow and claiming it as a school fleet vehicle on their taxes. He thinks the whole “X-MEN” thing the media came up with is hilarious, they’re just a bunch of persecuted minorities trying to rescue and educate kids, occasionally scuffling with another group doing the same thing on the other side of the moral line. He stays in his lane and looks forward to their tech challenges as a fun side project. “Full-body hologram” was a winner, even if it took a few tries to get the tail right.)

Just. More interaction between people who can conceivably interact on the regular, not just meet once in a big showdown based on mistaken identity, realizing We’re All Good Guys Here, shaking hands and then never seeing each other until the big world-ending team-up episode. Give me that sweet sweet bonding. We’re fanficcers, we don’t have to worry about coordinating between movies and shows and who’s going to space in their comic this week. We can just say “hey these guys have a lot in common, how about they get lunch sometime.”

[one-shot-plus-size]

From Sons of Anarchy to Mayans MC

Jax’s sister must hide from the revenge of SAMCRO enemies, goes to Mayans MC Santo Padre. And he catches the eye of a la presidente.

Chapters 20/20

Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. They will accept any attention and criticism :)

Part 19

I was finally able to sign a contract to buy a new place for me. Just like Bishop said, he did. He helped me push my case and all the documentation to make the loft mine as soon as possible. Immediately after the deal was finalized I went to my new home. You entered through the living room, underneath the mezzanine was a space for the kitchen. After a metal staircase you went upstairs where there was a large space for a beautiful bedroom and a desk to work. I smiled under my breath and already imagined how I would arrange this place. I went out on the balcony, the view stretched over the streets of the town. I went down to the first floor and through the sliding door I looked out onto the garden. A perfectly arranged place for a beautiful garden, even though it was the roof of the building. I was pulled out of my planning by the sound of the phone.

- What's up Reyes? 

- Remember we're having lunch? - Ez laughed on the phone.

- Grab something to go and come to my new place. I'll text you the address.

- Okay Querida, see you then.

I texted Reyes the address of my new place, sat down on the stairs leading to the floor and waited for them. After twenty minutes I heard animated conversations in the stairwell. 

- Querida - Angel opened the door - are you sure you didn't get the address wrong ?

- He didn't, have a little faith in your brother. - I went up to them.

- What kind of place is this? - Angel looked around. 

- My new home - I smiled widely.

- Are you going to live in this den? - he muttered under his breath. 

- Dżizas Angel - I groaned - I know that this place is to be renovated but in a few months it will be beautiful here. And finally nobody will throw me out of bed in the morning. 

- So you're going to end up living at the club soon? - Ez sat down on the stairs. 

- The first thing I'm going to do in this place is the bedroom, to move in here as soon as possible. And then I'll do everything here on an ongoing basis. 

- Do you hate sleeping at the club that much ? - Angel was looking at me. 

- I can't stand you waking up in the morning, I feel like castrating you and Coco for it. - I took a box of food from Ez, but back to the point, what's going on?

- Why do you assume something is going on? - Angel waved his hand nonchalantly. 

- Because you've been looking everywhere but in my eyes since you came in, and Ez has been clenching his fists so tight that his fingers are about to stop bleeding. So that's why I'm assuming something's wrong. And we can solve this in one of two ways, either you tell us what's going on straight up, or you do some bizarre sneaking around. The choice is yours - I sank my teeth into the shrimp. 

Angel exchanged a meaningful look with his younger brother. He just breathed and nodded affirmatively. 

- Okay, but don't say a word to anyone - Angel pointed his finger at me.

- You know where you can stick that finger - I muttered.

- This is not a joke - Ez rubbed his face with his hand.

- Okay, just say what's going on. As much as I hate wrapping my mind around things and combining things. And you Angel are very good at it. 

- Potter is harassing us - the elder Reyes finally chuckled out.

- Lincoln James Potter? - I poked my chopsticks into the pasta. 

- Deputy U.S. Attorney - Ez stepped up. 

- What does he want from you guys? What did you do again Angel ?

- What makes you think it's because of me?

- I shrugged my shoulders - You're always the one getting into trouble. 

- Now we're both in trouble.

I listened to their story for over two hours, they started from scratch and ended with the current state. It took a lot for me not to pick my jaw up off the ground. I think what shocked me the most was that Happy killed their mother. When he was still an assassin for hire. I stared at my hands as Angel told the story and Ez completed the tale.

- A brothel on wheels - I shook my head - what do you expect from me ?

- We know SAMCRO got rid of Charming Potter, they must have something on him. 

- Something that would help us get rid of him - Ez looked at me. 

- Of course the club can't find out ? 

- That would be good - Angel breathed. 

- Okay I'll call Chibs and talk to him. 

- Thanks Querida - Angel walked up to me - it means a lot to me, I'll owe you. He kissed me on the cheek, Ez did the same.

- That's right - I smiled from ear to ear - both of you will help me with this place, I can't do it all by myself. 

- I'm not planting plants - Angel snorted.

- That's not what I'm asking you to do, I'll order the furniture and you'll put it together - I looked at them - I could use your muscles and long arms.

- I'm not a fan of this kind of work, but fine - they both nodded.

- Great, now get out. I have an urgent call to make. 

They both kissed me on the cheek and left my place. I went outside and dialed Chibs' number. He picked up after just two beeps. 

- Darling - he smiled. 

- Hello Scott - I smiled to myself - I hope you are all right. 

- I am always busy, but I am not complaining. And how are you?

- I am fine, I just bought an apartment. Although apartment is a big word, it's a loft. 

- Something you always dreamed about, right? - He laughed.

- That's right, one day you have to make them come true. 

- It's true - he breathed - but I have a feeling you're calling with something interesting for me, right?

- You have always been able to read me like an open book - I laughed - and yes you are right. 

- What's going on baby ? Who am I supposed to kill ?

- Jeez Chibs, that's not the kind of thing I call you about. But thanks for the offer. I'll keep it in mind in case someone gets under my skin. 

- So what's going on?

- I know that my very clever little brother has somehow gotten Potter out of Charming. Tell me how ? What he had on him.

- Tell me, is he bothering you? Shall I take care of him ?

- He doesn't bother me personally, but he bothers my friends. Privately, he sticks his nose into things that aren't his own, and I'd like to get rid of him. 

- I have quite a file on him, but I think it's enough for you that during one of his affairs he slept with a witness and made her baby. He took her away afterwards, but Jackson found out where. Potter is in contact with this woman all the time, paying her for the baby. I have an appointment with Bishop next week to see him. I can drop you his file then. 

- Chibs, I want Bishop and his club to know nothing. I don't want to cause them any trouble or unnecessary problems. You know, they got a lot on their plate, can you keep it quiet for me?

- As long as if something bad happens, you tell me. You call me and tell me everything, okay?

- Since when are you so overbearing?

- Since I rule a bunch of asses - he groaned.

  - New name for the club - I laughed. 

- So we're on? 

- Sure. Thanks, Chibs. For everything. I was looking at the stars. You were there for him till the end. 

- Always, baby, always. I love you and I'll see you later.

- I love you too and I'll see you later -  I hung up. 

I looked at the time on my phone, 6:45 a.m. I turned off the light, closed the door and headed to Bishop's. We finally had an appointment for our second date, point seven I stood in front of his door. There was music coming from inside, I smiled softly and knocked a few times. After a few moments the door opened and Bishop stood smiling broadly. He was wearing dark jeans, a shirt with three buttons undone and socks. 

- Ok, so this time I'm the one who didn't dress up - I breathed - sorry, I sat in the loft. 

- Querida you always look beautiful - he kissed me on the cheek and dragged me into the house - if you want you can take a shower and I will give you some of my sweatpants and a T-shirt. What do you think ?

- Sounds like a plan - I smiled. 

Bishop led me into the bathroom and handed me some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He went back to the kitchen to finish getting dinner ready. I took a quick shower and slipped on sweatpants and a T-shirt. The clothes were too big for me but it was enough that they smelled of Bishop. We spent a nice time over dinner and then cuddled on the couch in front of the TV.

- I like seeing you in my things - Bishop purred in my ear - it's like you're already mine. 

I lifted my head and looked into his eyes, he was smiling broadly at me. 

- Will you be Reina De Los Mayans ? 

- Sometimes I forget how sexy this language is - I smiled slightly - but I don't know a damn thing about it. 

- You see, I sometimes forget that you don't know it - he kissed me on the lips - become the Queen of the Mayans, my queen. 

I bit my lower lip and stared into his eyes.

- I have one condition - I'll break away from him. 

- What condition? - He furrowed his brow. 

- If this is going to work between us, no secrets. I want to know everything, about you, the club and everything. I'll be honest with you myself. 

- I'm not entirely sure I should drag you into club shit. 

- Remember, I grew up in SAMCRO, a much more violent and fucked-up club than yours. I can take a lot of shit. 

I saw in Bishop's eyes that he was conflicted, that he didn't know what was better. 

- Think about it, you don't have to answer now. - I snuggled into his side. He put his arm around me and kissed my head. 

- If you want to know everything then we are in for a long night. - He squeezed my hand.

I lifted my head and smiled from ear to ear. He leaned into me and kissed me deeply, his large hand encompassed my cheek. I smiled into the kiss, he pulled away from me and kissed my nose. 

- To let everyone know that you are mine now - he rose and walked over to one of the shelves. 

I looked at him, he was rummaging through one of the caskets. After a moment he pulled something out and sank down next to me on the couch. Between his index finger and thumb he held one of his rings. 

- Now everyone will know that you are Reina De Los Mayans, that you are my queen.

I grabbed the ring and looked at it closely. Its shape perfectly mirrored the club logo, it was silver and large. I slipped it on my middle finger, moved my hand away and looked at it closely. 

- It will look perfect when I show my middle finger to Reyes - I laughed. 

- That's why I know you're the perfect woman to handle this bunch of kids. That whatever they do, you will always love and care for them. And I hope you take care of old El Presidente. 

- Of course I will - I looked at him - after all, I love him. 

- And he loves you too.

[kiwi-stan]

Southern Belle Part 2

Read part 1 here

“Okay,” Eve said, stalling for time as she thought. “Celebrity crush?” 

“Currently?” Harry asked. They were lying on the floor in his living room, both staring up at the ceiling fan and trying to stay as still as possible. It was the beginning of July and the summer days were just getting hotter. Eve had never known that the guest house didn’t have air conditioning, but since she’d been spending the last few weeks sneaking out after dinner to meet Harry, she’d decided that she would try to convince her father to renovate. She had no idea how he managed to sleep in the heat. 

After their night at the pool-or neg-gate as Harry had started calling it-Eve had been on a strict diet that cut out almost any sugar and carbs. She’s lasted about 36 hours before she was banging on Harry’s door and begging him for any sugary snack he had on hand. He’d invited her in and they’d been spending almost every night for the past two weeks hanging out. Eve knew her parents would flip if they knew she was sneaking into a boy’s room late at night, especially since that boy was their gardener, even though what they were doing was strictly platonic. They played twenty questions (with Twinkie as their safe word if a question was too edgy to answer), watched TV and movies (Harry had tried to introduce Eve to baseball but she hadn’t really liked it), listened to music (he considered it a tragedy that she only knew top 40 songs and had made it his mission to introduce her to pop-punk) and sometimes played card games. 

“Yeah. Right now.” Eve said. She waited impatiently for his response. She was waiting to see if he would name someone she somewhat resembled. After the tame cheek kiss that night at the pool, she’d been waiting for Harry to make another move. He hadn’t. Eve had been trying to drop hints that she was into him, but he seemed totally clueless. She’d developed a new tactic, using their games of twenty questions to try to determine if he were into her. 

“Mila Kunis.” Harry said quickly, like he hadn’t even needed to think about it. Eve considered that. They didn’t look much alike. But did that really mean anything, though? She was so distracted she almost missed him throwing the question back at her. “Yours?” 

“Jake Gyllenhaal.” 

“Wanna play again?” Harry asked. That had been her twentieth question. 

Eve sat up enough to glance at the digital clock on the end table. It was nearing two am. She had to be up at six for yoga with her mother and she wanted to be at least somewhat well rested for that. She had no idea how Harry was working all day doing manual labor with long nights like these, though she expected Red Bull had something to do with it. 

“I should probably go.” Even as she said this she pulled another Twizzler from the package lying between them. “I’m going shopping with my mother tomorrow and I’ll need my energy for that.” 

Harry sat up too so he could look her in the eyes. “Shopping for what?” 

“There’s this huge banquet at the end of the summer that we all have to go to. I don’t know if you’ve heard anyone else talk about it.” 

“I think Tim said something about it.” He said, naming the family’s driver. “The Summer Splash?” 

Eve nodded. “Yeah. It’s crazy fancy. We’re going to look for a dress. Or a gown really. It’ll probably have to be altered, which is why we’re going now,” 

“You can’t wear something you already have?”

“You know Queen Steph won’t let me be seen in something I’ve already worn.” Eve couldn’t believe she’d gone 19 years without hearing the nickname the staff used for her mother. Harry had mentioned it to her one night and she’d picked it up too. It was fitting. She sighed and shoved the last of the licorice in her mouth. “I’d much rather do that though. Shopping with her is going to be torture.” 

Harry’s expression softened. He’d overheard two more Montgomery family dinners since that first one, so he knew the put-downs Eve faced from her family were common. He still hadn’t gotten over what he’d heard that first night. “I’m sorry.”

Even got to her feet. “It’s okay. I can handle it. I should go now though.” 

“Come see me tomorrow? I have some cinnamon rolls I’ve been saving for a bad day.” 

Eve smiled. “Of course.” She wanted to say something flirty like “it’s a date” but didn’t. At times like these she cursed her lack of experience around guys. Instead she left the guesthouse and silently slipped back into her room. 

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Eve was already cranky by the time Tim pulled up outside Blossom, her mother’s favorite boutique in the area. She’d woken up to find that her mother had laid out clothes for her like she was five years old and had been even more annoyed when she walked downstairs and found that her outfit was a replica of her mother’s, head-to-toe Lululemon. Her mother had tugged Eve’s hair into a tight ponytail, deeming the braid she’d done herself “too boho”. Eve had rolled her eyes at that, earning herself a lecture that lasted the entire drive to the yoga studio. After an hour of both her mother and the instructor correcting her form, her mother had tugged her into the dressing room (not locker room) and told Eve to put on makeup. 

“Why? Aren’t we just going home?” Eve had asked. 

“No, Evelyn, we’re going dress shopping for the Summer Splash.” 

“Mom, it’s only eight. All the stores in town don’t open for hours.” Eve had pointed out. 

“Audrey is opening early for us. Hurry up. I told her we’d be there at 8:30.” 

Eve wracked her brain as Tim found a parking spot and pulled open the passenger door for her mother. Audrey was one of her mother’s best friends even though both women had volatile personalities and they frequently fought. Eve was trying to remember if she’d heard her mother say anything indicating what kind of ground they were on lately, though she’d been spending so little time around her mother lately she felt like she didn’t really know anything about her mother’s life. As Tim pulled her door open and escorted her out of the car, Eve decided to take the fact that her mother was patronizing Audrey’s store as a good sign. 

“Don’t stare at Audrey’s lips.” Her mother murmured as they approached the store. 

“What?” Eve wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. 

“Don’t stare at Audrey’s lips,” Her mother said a bit louder. “She got them done again and they don’t look good.” 

Eve’s mother tugged the door open, making the bells attached to the handle rattle. Eve was immediately assaulted by the smell of potpourri and the color pink. The last time Eve had been in the store, it had been decorated with white and classy neutrals. Audrey had redecorated and now everything was pink. Eve watched her mother frown as she surveyed the store, already knowing that her mother thought the pink was too juvenile (she’d forced Eve to repaint her pink bedroom to a light blue once she turned twelve, claiming that pink was for little girls). Though Eve figured the decor didn’t really matter. Audrey’s husband was almost as rich as Eve’s father and the store was really a hobby for it. It could operate in the red for years-which now that Eve thought about it, it probably did given that it had limited hours and insanely high prices-and Audrey would be just fine. 

A squeal came from by the register. “Steph!” Audrey came rushing over as fast as she could in her impossibly high heels. “You look as gorgeous as ever.” She continued, embracing Eve’s mother. They did the European kiss on both cheeks that Eve thought was incredibly phony. 

Audrey turned her attention to Eve.  “Evelyn, you look lovely as well.” Eve didn’t feel lovely, but she accepted the compliment anyway and surveyed Audrey so she could return the compliment. Audrey and her mother could be sisters, they shared the same light blond hair, tiny frame, and bright blue eyes. However, Audrey had a tendency to overdo it with her hair, makeup, accessories, and cosmetic procedures (Eve realized that her mother was right and Audrey’s lips were way too big). “Thank you. I love your dress.” She said finally. Audrey’s white lace sundress was the only thing not completely overwhelming about her appearance. Eve’s mother nodded next to her, satisfied with the compliment. 

“Anyway, y’all can come on back. I’ve pulled some things already and I’ve got you set up in a room.” Audrey led them to the dressing rooms along the back wall. Eve bristled. Audrey’s taste was questionable at best. 

Her mother didn’t seem happy either. “I was hoping to look around myself.” Eve noticed there was no mention of her picking out her own dress. Between that and her mother laying out her outfit and styling her hair that morning, she was starting to feel like her mother’s dress up doll. 

“And you can do that too!” Audrey said quickly. “How about you do that while Evelyn starts trying things on?” 

“Alright, but I want to see everything.” Eve’s mother gave her a pointed look before walking off. 

“You’re still a two right?” Audrey asked, pushing Eve into one of the dressing rooms. 

“Yes ma’am.” Thanks to Harry continuing to provide snacks, Eve knew her diet wasn’t working quite as well as her mother had hoped. However, she still hadn’t gone up a dress size, which she knew would probably send her mother into shock. 

“Great. Let me know if you need help getting into anything. I’ll be just outside.” Audrey closed the curtain behind her, leaving Eve alone in the dressing room. Blossom’s dressing rooms were the size of the kitchen in the guesthouse.  A mirror took up the entirety of one wall, like in a dance studio. A rolling clothing rack with several dresses on it was pressed up against another wall. A couch just as nice as the one in the Montgomery family living room was the final piece of furniture in the room. Eve spent a few minutes looking through the dresses on the rack, finding only one that she liked. She decided to save that one for last and started with her least favorite, a white dress with a sweetheart neckline and a skirt full of flowers that looked more like a wedding dress than anything else. 

Eve managed to wiggle into the dress without any help and emerged from the dressing room to find Audrey waiting for her. Audrey gave another high pitched squeal. “Steph! Come see how cute she looks.” 

Eve waited for her mother to make her way back to the dressing room. Her mother frowned the second she saw her. “Evelyn, put your hair up. None of these gowns will look good with a ponytail.” She waited as Eve rushed to put her hair in the best bun she could manage. “That looks like a wedding dress.” Eve cringed at the fact that she and her mother shared an opinion on something. “Try something else.” Her mother went on. 

Eve obediently went into the dressing room and tugged on the next option, a lavender dress that she knew would clash with her hair. A glance in the mirror confirmed this. The look on her mother’s face further confirmed this. “Evelyn, that looks awful with your hair. Try something else.” Eve went back into the dressing room, closing the curtain behind her, but she could still hear her mother talking. “That wouldn’t look so bad if she’d bleach that awful red hair of hers.” Eve moved further away from the curtain. For all the luxury in the store Audrey couldn’t afford real doors? 

Eve tried on the last of the ugly dresses, a green dress with a corset style top that Eve definitely didn’t have the figure to fill out. She didn’t even want to show her mother, but she stepped out of the dressing room again. Her mother’s frown deepened. “Evelyn, you don’t have the body for that dress. I saw one I liked. Let me go get it.” As her mother walked away, Eve entered the dressing room again. She was pulled on the only dress she liked, a simple black dress with a halter neck and a low back. It fit like a glove. Eve spun around in the mirror a few times, loving how she looked and feeling confident. She liked how the low back made her look taller, how the tight fit of the top and the skirt emphasized her figure, and how the black color complimented her hair and eyes. She heard the bells on the door jingle, followed by a sequel from Audrey. 

Eve stepped out of the dressing room to find her mother standing there alone, a blue dress in her hands, her hands gripping the hanger so tight Eve was worried the plastic might snap in her hands. 

Audrey was standing at the entrance, greeting another blonde woman with a double cheek kiss. When Audrey stepped back, Eve realized why her mother was so mad. Karen Walcott, her mother’s main social rival had just entered the store, her daughter Andrea on her heels. Eve felt herself growing tense as well. She and Andrea had never gotten along in high school, and since her mother and Karen had been rivals for years, Eve knew time didn’t exactly heal all wounds. Eve didn’t know the exact origins of the rivalry, only that it had been long and seemed to have no end it sight. They’d probably still be feuding in the nursing home. 

“Stephanie,” Karen began, stepping toward Eve her mother. “Lovely to see you. You look lovely. Black is very slimming.” Eve felt her mother bristle, recognizing the subtle way bored, rich housewives fought. “And Evelyn, you’re looking lovely too. You stayed here for school, isn’t that right?” 

Eve recognized the implication, that she hadn’t been smart enough to get into an out of state school and that her parents couldn’t afford to send her to one. Her mother slid an arm around her, the gesture making Eve jump. It had been forever since her mother touched her with any sort of affection. “You look lovely as well. Though I’m surprised to see you. Audrey assured me I would have the store to myself,” Eve caught the death glare her mother shot Audrey and had a feeling they would soon be on the outs again. “Evelyn is at Barnard actually. How about Andy?” She continued, using the nickname she was well aware that no one had used for Andrea since she was about six. 

Andrea smiled sweetly. “I go by Andrea now ma’am. And I’m at Bryn Mawr.” 

“4.0.” Karen jumped in. “You aren’t worried about Evelyn all alone in that big city?” 

Eve felt her mother’s manicured fingernails dig into her shoulder and knew she was mad she couldn’t throw Eve’s academic achievements back. Eve wanted to squirm to get away but knew her mother would be livid. “Not at all. She’s very responsible.” 

“I felt very safe, Mrs. Walcott.” Eve added. 

“Is that your dress for the Summer Splash?” Andrea asked. “It’s great you have the confidence for something like that with your body.” 

A comment like that from her mother stung, but Eve could handle it, like a bee sting. A comment like that from someone else, someone her own age, felt worse, like being attacked by a swarm of killer bees. Her mother looked over at her for the first time. “You’re right, Andy. This dress won’t work for Evelyn. She gained some weight at school and hasn’t lost it yet.” 

“Really? Andrea is the exact same size as when she left.” Karen mused. 

It was on the tip of Evelyn’s tongue to tell her that Andrea had almost gained a lot of weight this year thanks to a pregnancy scare with her high school boyfriend toward the end of senior year, but she was too shocked to do so. As bad as she could be in private, her mother was usually nicer to her in public. Being around other people was like wearing a suit of armor. She had no idea why this interaction was bringing out this side of her mother. 

Eve’s mother said something about how that had best keep shopping, took her wrist, and tugged her away. Hard. “Try this on and let’s go. I’m going to kill Audrey.” She said, shoving the blue dress into Eve’s hands. 

“But mom, I think-” 

“Don’t argue.” Her mother pushed her none too gently into the fitting room. 

With a last longing look at herself in the black dress, Eve took it off and pulled the blue dress instead. She hated it instantly. There was no real shape to it at all, the top resembling a mumu and the bottom resembling the poofy prom dress that she’d hated but had also been forced on her by her mother. Her mother really thought she needed to be hidden away like this? 

Knowing her mother expected to see her in the dress, she emerged from the dressing room. Her mother smiled for the first time all day. “Wonderful! We’ll take it.” She directed the last part of the sentence toward Audrey, though she didn’t make eye contact. 

“But mom-” 

“Don’t try to argue with me.” It was quiet, a warning. 

“You do look darling.” Another voice said. Eve turned to see Karen waiting outside the next fitting room. Though there were six, Audrey had set the two girls up in adjoining rooms. Her mother was going to be furious with Audrey. “Just like you did for prom.” Eve noticed the backhanded compliment, but her mother didn’t seem to. 

The curtain to the other dressing room flew open and Andrea emerged, looking stunning in a fitted white dress not unlike Eve’s favorite black look. Karen immediately started fussing over her, heaping more compliments on her in two minutes than Eve had heard from her mother in her entire life. 

“Go change. I’ll go pay. Then we can get out of here. We’ll go somewhere else to look for your dress for the Christmas banquet.” Her mother raised her voice on those last words so Audrey would be sure to here. “And we’re going somewhere else for alterations. Or Joyce could to them.” 

Eve obediently headed for the dressing room with her self-esteem at an all time low. Her mother had insulted her in front of her old high school enemy. She was buying her a hideous dress after rudely rejecting all other options. Outside, she could still hear Karen complimenting Andrea. Eve finally realized why she’d never really liked Andrea in high school. Though she’d been on top of the social ladder, Eve had felt horribly insecure the whole time. Andrea had walked with a practiced confidence that Eve now knew came from having supportive parents. It also was why Harry seemed so sure of himself. Thinking about Harry reminded Eve that he hadn’t tried to kiss her yet and made her feel even worse. It seemed like she would never be good enough for everyone. Eve quickly tugged the dress off and put her workout clothes on, wanting to get home as quickly as possible so she could cry these feelings out in private. 

She carried the dress in her left hand, using it to block her view of Karen and Andrea as she made her way to the register where her mother was finishing paying, still not making eye contact with Audrey. Her mother signed the receipt, grabbed the bowl of complementary expensive mints by the register, and dumped the entire thing into her purse. Eve knew that Audrey could easily afford more mints so that wasn’t really a huge loss, but now wasn’t the time to point that out. She took Eve’s wrist in a viselike grip and guided her toward the Range Rover where Tim was waiting. Once there were inside with the doors locked and Tim was pulling out of the parking lot, she exploded. 

“I am going to kill Audrey. Really. I know I say this every time but I’m not speaking to her again and she’s not getting anymore of my business…” Eve zoned out as her mother ranted on about Audrey, only tuning back in when she heard her name. “And, Evelyn, I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. She glides in looking so perfect with Andrea looking like a doll and you look like something the cat dragged it.” Eve wanted to point out that it was her mother’s idea to go straight from yoga to shopping, but didn’t. She didn’t have the energy to fight back. “And Andrea’s doing so well at Bryn Mawr and I can’t even say anything about your academic accomplishments back. I just wish you were more like her sometimes.” 

With that final blow to her self-esteem, Eve felt tears welling up. Fortunately, she’d gotten very good at hiding them over the last few years and stared out the window as Tim sped through the last few blocks to the house as her mother ranted on about Andrea’s perfect hair and perfect body. As soon as Tim pulled into the driveway, Eve ran into the house, up the stairs, and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She knew running away like that would earn her a lecture later, but she didn’t care. The tears started and she threw herself down on the bed, hoping her mother was either still downstairs or better yet out of the house so she couldn’t hear. Under no circumstances could her mother hear or see her crying. 

Eve’s sobs were so loud she almost didn’t hear the rock hit the window. She ignored it. She knew it was Harry and the guy who wasn’t into her and who had been indirectly responsible for her breakdown was the last person she wanted to see right now. Another rock hit the window. Then another. Then another, all in quick succession. Eve wiped her nose on her pillow case and got up, intending to tell him to beat it. 

The second she pushed the window open, Harry was looking up at her with concern. “Are you okay?” He asked before she could even open her mouth. “Tim told me what happened and said you seemed really upset. He took your mother to the spa for an emergency massage. We’re alone if you want to talk.” 

“Harry, I-” She stopped herself before she could say she wanted to be alone. It was sweet of him to come check in on her, and he was the only person all day who’d shown that he cared about her feelings. Talking to someone did sound kind of nice. “I’m coming down. Meet me in the guesthouse.” 

Eve shoved flip flops on her feet and made her way downstairs. Joyce, who was preparing lunch, gave her a sympathetic look. Apparently family gossip traveled fast among the staff. Eve made her way into the backyard and sulked toward the guesthouse. She knocked on the door five times, the signal she and Harry had come up with so he’d know it was her. He pulled the door open immediately. 

Once Eve was inside, he led her toward the couch. “What happened?” He asked. His concern set Eve off crying again, she hid her face in her hands, not wanting anyone to see her cry. Her parents had taught her from a young age not to show weakness and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d openly cried in front of anyone other than her parents. Harry gently pried her hands away from her face and pulled her in so she her face was resting on his shoulder instead. He was sweaty and smelled like fertilizer, but she didn’t care, Eve was just grateful to have a warm body to cry against. He silently rubbed her back as she continued to cry. 

Once she’d cried herself out, Harry asked again what had happened and Eve could finally detail the events of the morning. Harry had let go of her but was still holding one of her hands as she talked. She watched as his eyes widened at certain points in the story. She finally got to the end of the story and he was quiet for a few moments, seemingly speechless. “Eve, I’m so so sorry.” He said finally. 

Eve sighed. “I don’t know why I’m crying. Usually I can handle it.” 

“I hate when you say that. You shouldn’t have to.” He fixed his gaze on her. “Really. You shouldn’t.” 

Eve ignored him. It seemed hard to convince herself of that when almost all she heard was the opposite. “I think it feels worse this time because she told me she wished I was more like Andrea. She was so awful to me when we were in high school. I wouldn’t want to be anything like her. And the fact that she was insulting me in public. That never happens. I work really hard to keep up the perfect family facade and that’s all ruined now. Plus I was already feeling bad about you so-” She stopped short when she realized what she’d said. She’d been on a roll with her ranting, the last part had popped out before she could stop it. 

She hoped that he hadn’t been paying attention, something that she’d noticed was all too frequent with most guys. Unfortunately, he was looking at her with enough concern to let her know that he’d heard. “Why would you be feeling bad about me?” He asked. 

“No reason.” She said firmly. She hadn’t been raised to talk about her feelings. Her parents didn’t do that. The words ‘I love you’ were infrequent between them. Eve hadn’t cried in front of her parents since getting cut from the sixth grade cheer team, which had been followed by a long lecture from her mother about not crying in front of people and private lessons from an instructor hired by her father to ensure that she would make the team next year. This was foreign to her. “Thanks for listening, but I know you have to get back to work.” She pulled her hand away from Harry’s and stood up.

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her down again. “Eve, I know we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot but I thought we were good now. Did I do something wrong?” 

Her nights with Harry had been really the only positive to her summer. Their games were the most fun she’d had since coming home and he was really the only person who could make her laugh these days. She couldn’t let him think there was something wrong with him. “It’s just....I don’t have a lot of experience with guys so I could be wrong but that first night at the pool you were complimenting me and I kind of thought you were flirting. But then that stopped so I started thinking there was something wrong with me to me you not want to flirt anymore.” 

Harry stared at her blankly. “You really think that?” He took her hand again. “Eve, I thought you didn’t like me like that. Then I started thinking about it and I realized I’m not the kind of guy your parents would want for you. So it made sense that you would be blowing me off. I didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want so I just stopped.” He hesitated. “You liked it.” 

“I liked it. I liked you since that first night out at the pool. No one’s ever looked after me like that. All the nights we’ve spent together have just been me falling for you more.” 

“I liked you when I first saw you. I thought you were pretty, as you know,” Eve smiled at the reference to their awkward first meeting. “And I was annoyed you were trying to tell me how to do my job, yes. But you walked out to yell at me and I thought ‘Here’s a strong, confident girl who isn’t afraid to stand up for herself’. Then during the dinner I realized I’d been wrong, but it didn’t change how I felt. I wanted to help you, to bring the girl from that morning back.” As he spoke he’d been moving closer to her. He slid his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, keeping eye contact and watching for any sign of discomfort. “Good?” He asked. Eve nodded. One of his hands cupped her cheek. “Can I kiss you?” They’d been talking long enough that she seemed calm, she’d been sobbing less than an hour ago and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. He waited until she nodded again to kiss her. 

Eve had been kissed before. She’d had her first kiss at her first boy-girl party back in the sixth grade. She’d had a few boyfriends back in high school, and she’d been kissed good night by almost every boy who had taken her to a dance or party. But it had never been like this. This was the electricity, the butterflies, everything a kiss was supposed to be. It was also harder and faster than she’d ever been kissed before. Every boy she’d ever dated had been raised like her, to believe the public displays of affection were tacky and that even being overly affectionate in private was frowned upon. Harry was holding her tight, pulling her body close to his as the kiss deepened. As amazing as it was, Eve’s mind started to wander, wondering what would happen if her parents knew she was playing tonsil hockey with the gardener. 

As if reading her thoughts, Harry pulled away. “Eve, your parents-” He started. 

She cut him off. “Do you really think I care what my parents think?” As she said it, she realized it was true. She wanted to be with Harry. Her parents be damned. He smiled, pulling her in for another kiss. 

[trojantoast]

“The Love, The Dark, The Light, The Flame” - Zutara Week 2019

Day One “Gifts”

“I've been through the desert and I've been across the sea I've been walking through the mountains and wandered through the trees for her I have been trying to find her want to give what I got She lit a fire, but now she's in my every thought”

- “She Lit a Fire” Lord Huron

@zutaraweek  

“She’ll be here soon, you need to calm down Sparky.” The laughter in Toph’s voice, though familiar, was not appreciated.

“I’m completely calm.” Zuko gritted out, not missing her pronoun use, but not denying where his concern was focused.

“And I’m a flying purple hog monkey.”

Zuko grumbled and paced the foyer again. “They should be here by now.”

“Twinkle Toes probably stopped to go sightseeing, or ride a terrifying monster, or something equally as time-wasting, on his way to Ba Sing Se.” Toph leaned against a nearby table, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, absentmindedly spinning her meteorite bracelet between her fingers.

Zuko could barely contain his nerves. He wasn’t surprised they were late. In his seven years of knowing Aang, the avatar had never proven himself to be the most punctual of people, nor the most accurate, so the fact that the “noon arrival” had turned into a late afternoon arrival was not shocking.

Still, Zuko paced.

“Sparky, you need to take a chill pill Aang-” 

“Lord Zuko? The Avatar's bison has been spotted over the hills.” A servant entered with a polite bow. Zuko’s heart jumped to his throat, perking up at the news. He remembered when those words would send a much different emotion rocketing through veins. But now he greeted them with a warm feeling, that could only be described as joy.

Toph joined him as he charged through the front door into the peaceful courtyard beyond. A white blur crested his vision with a deep bellow.

“See Sparky, there was nothing to be worried about.”

Zuko smile to himself as the great beast landed with a gust of wind. Without thinking Zuko’s gaze combed Appa’s saddle, looking for a flash of hair, or the familiar expression on her brow. Before he could get a good look he was blown over by a very energetic hug from Aang. 

Over the years the avatar had grown tall and lanky, now standing at a solid six foot. To Zuko’s quiet relief he hadn’t yet passed Zuko in stature. 

“Hi Aang.” the airbender released him with a grin. 

“Sorry we were a little late, I tried to ride the Unagi again.”

“Told ya.” Zuko didn't miss Toph’s smug comment.

“It was wild! I almost got eaten!” he looked down bashfully, “...again.” Aang turned to Toph and began to recite a play-by-play description of the encounter. Zuko looked up again to see Sokka slide, gracelessly, off Appa’s saddle and stride towards the group. 

“How’s my favorite Fire Lord!” He shouted. 

Aang had not gotten taller than Zuko, but the firebender couldn’t say the same for Sokka. At the start of the twenties, Sokka began to favor his father and was now distictly buff. The two men greeted each other with a warriors handshake that evolved into a strong embrace. They separated and Zuko met Sokka’s cooky smile,

 “I’m good, how’s Suk-”

“Hey Sokka! A little help here?!” immediately Zuko’s attention was drawn to the achingly familiar voice from atop Appa’s saddle. She was attempting to help a heavily pregnant Suki down, who was halfway hanging off the animal looking very nervous.

“Here I've got it!” a small gust of wind gently carried Suki to the ground with a puff of dust. 

“Thanks Aang!” Sokka’s wife said brightly. 

Zuko froze as Katara smoothly slid down one of Appa’s legs and brushed off her skirts, their eyes met. Before he had time to do anything else, Katara had crossed the distance and was hugging him, pressed against his chest.

Her hair smelled like rosemary. Her figure fit into his like a tailored glove, strong shoulders fit snugly under his arms, head tucked into the curve of his neck. Warmth flooded his chest. They seperated quickly but their gazes did not split. 

Katara was dressed in sea green, a loose two piece that flowed in the breeze. Her hair billowed around her, providing a sharp contrast to the pale fabric. She was just as stunning as he remembered, and the small moment, standing so close to he, made his heart jump. Her eyes, as round and hopeful as ever, bewitched him. He prayed she would never look away. 

“When you two are done making googly eyes at each other I want a tour, Zuko.” 

Zuko’s face turned beet red at Sokka’s suggestion, he turned away clearing his throat, a part of him stayed though, in that moment. 

What Zuko didn’t see was the way that Katara’s eyes lingered on his face as he led the group inside. 

 When Zuko had talked about renovating the beach house Katara had imagined fresh paint, maybe some pruning, or perhaps a new front door. It turned out “renovating” included adding a new wing and knocking out multiple walls to create a sprawling campus of rooms connected with hallways crowned with floor to ceiling windows. The interior was painted white, each room was filled with plants and fresh air, color was added with intricate rugs, paintings, and tapestries. The difference was astounding, the clearly abandoned house of the past, covered in dust, and filled with uneasiness, like you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be and someone could walk in at any moment, had changed into a welcoming estate surrounded by the sea. 

Some things hadn't changed too much. The second story, the private quarters of the Fire Lord and his guests, was the same. The addition of open windows and a good dusting removed the greyness from the last time Katara had been there.

“I assumed you all would want the same rooms as last time, your things were already moved in...if that's alright.” Zuko trailed off at the end and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous. Katara  reached out and rested her hand on his arm, something in his eyes was hopeful when they met hers,

“That’s wonderful Zuko, the house is stunning, you did a fantastic job.” he smiled sweetly at her.

“Actually Zuko, I was wondering if I could switch with- ow! Nevermind! I love it buddy!” Katara heard the unmistakable sound of Suki pinching Sokka to make him be quiet.

 “Come on Sokka let's go unpack!”

“But Suki we just got here- OW! What was that one for?!” Katara hear the door of her brother and his wife's room slide closed.

“Hey Twinkle Toes I saw a really great spot to do some earthbending. I’ll show you!” 

In the blink of an eye, Katara and Zuko were alone in the hallway. 

“Oh, also,I like your haircut.”

 With a blush Zuko ran his hand through the long, fluffy hair on top of his head to the shorter pieces at the nape of his neck. “Really?”

The pair began to walk down the hallway towards their rooms. They fell into an easy gait beside each other. Katara took a closer look at it. The top was significantly longer than the underside, by Katara guess it was just long enough to pull into a Fire Lord crown. 

“Yeah, it really suits you, it's quite young.” 

Zuko snorted, “Thanks, I’ll let uncle know next time I see him, maybe we can match.”

Katara lifted her hand to her mouth and giggled, “What happened the long hair? I mean I can't say I miss it, you were threatening my throne for ‘best hair in team avatar’.”

He rolled his eyes, “we both know that award goes to Aang.” There was a beat of silence, and suddenly the hallway was filled with their laughter. It was easy, laughing with Zuko, familiar. Katara’s chest soared at his happiness.

“No...no..” Zuko tried to catch his breath, “I liked it until I woke up one morning and saw my father staring back at me.”   

They had reached their doors, and the mood shifted, though the remnants of their laughter clung to them.

Katara could picture it, staring at the mirror for a long moment, your stomach in your lungs and your heart in your throat. It happened to her the one time she tried on one of her mother's parkas. Katara reached out and squeezed his hand, the touch lingering. 

“Well the long hair wore you more than you wore it.” 

 “I guess you're right, it was hot anyway.” He smiled sadly and opened her door for her, not releasing her hand.

Katara squeezed his hand and let go walking part way into her room, “It’s really good to see you again Zuko, I miss you.”

His golden eyes held her blue ones evenly, “I missed you too Katara, the letters don’t do it justice.”

They stood there for a long moment, halfway in her bedroom, halfway out. The air, once playful, was still, like even nature itself was waiting, watching. Katara felt like something was supposed to happen, in this moment. But nothing came to her. Something deep inside her told her to reach out, for something, anything, to span the space between them. Don’t make it weird, she scolded herself. So she didn’t and crossed full way into the door. 

“Um, dinner is at seven. I’m cooking.” He broke the silence, the moment passed.

“Oh, that’s great!” She shook off an unfamiliar chill. 

“Oh, uh, Katara? I’m really glad you came.” his voice was quiet.

She turned to look at Zuko, “Me too.”

When the door closed, she felt the ghost of his hand in hers. 

By six thirty the smell of food lured almost everyone downstairs. Toph and Aang were considerably dirtier than before; and Zuko noticed that the rocks in the back garden where suspiciously moved about. The two earthbenders, and Sokka, had struck up a lively game of Fire Poker in the breakfast room, adjacent to the kitchen, where Zuko had banished them when they got in the way. According to Sokka’s shrill voice Toph was, “robbing them blind”. The irony of the accusation was not lost on the group, and Aang’s laugh could be heard throughout the house.

Suki had wandered down after a short nap and was flipping through some scrolls in one of the living rooms, in more comfortable seating then could be provided by the kitchen or the breakfast room. The Kyoshi warrior seemed to be taking the pregnancy well, but Zuko didn't know much about that sort of thing in the first place.

So Zuko flitted about the kitchen, enjoying the cathartic peace provided by cooking and the simple joy found in the voices of his friends. The kitchen was filled with wonderful smells and the sizzling of meat. 

“Don't put too many fire flakes on that komodo chicken, Sokka will get sick again.” Zuko looked up to see the friendly face of Katara leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. 

“Don’t worry, I made a seperate one without it for his sensitive stomach.” He gestured to the meat cooking on the stove. Katara chuckled quietly and walked farther into the kitchen peering over his shoulder as he cut vegetables. 

“Do you need any help?” She asked turning around and leaning against an empty bit of counter. 

“Not from you.” Zuko said absentmindedly. 

“Oh?” Realizing what he had said he looked up, panic to see Katara’s brow quirk accusingly, her arms crossed, “why ever not?” 

“Oh Agni, shit, that's not what I meant.” Zuko pancked. With a clatter, he dropped the knife on the cutting board throwing his hands up defensively, “I mean you cooked for us so many times, back during the war, it would be fair, oh.. Umm… Im so sorry.” He held the bridge of his nose, trying to control his brain, and his tongue, “I meant that since you would always cooked and did so much for us you should never have to cook again.” 

His heart beat a million miles a minute but he looked up to see a smile breaking through her now obvious disguise of anger.

“Zuko, its fine.” Katara nudged him out of the way and picked up his knife, cutting the vegetables where he had left off, “I like cooking.” 

“Really?” He asked, deciding to roll with her actions and raking the produce into a bowl.

She nodded, “In my tribe meals are communal, so is cooking. The bonding that happens as the women make dinner is a huge pillar of my culture. It starts young, I helped with my first meal when I was only three.” Zuko listened to her talk about her home as he began to saute the vegetables. “Different families host the meals each day, all the women go to the hostess’ house and help her cook for the village.”

“What do the men do?” Zuko turned and asked.

“Well,” Zuko was soon immersed in the cadence of her voice, “back when there were lots of men in the village they would hunt the animals used for meals, and then the woman would skin and prepare it for either storing for winter or for the days meal, while the warriors where catching the next days meat, so they would have something to come home to. But after my father left with his warriors, it was mostly women and children left, so me and Sokka would hunt for food in the morning and bring it back to prepare later. That’s actually what we were doing when we found Aang.”

Zuko remembered hearing the story years ago, something about Sokka ruining the canoe and Katara cracking open an ice shelf.

“Did it bother you,” Zuko searched for the right words, “that no one helped back during the war? Since cooking is communal?” 

She seemed to think about it for a while. The silence was comfortable, the gamblers in the other room had become a little quieter, but where now arguing about rules.

“I guess it did,” She finally said, “it wasn’t that I had to do it all by myself, it was just that everyone expected it to happen, without them lifting a finger.” 

“That makes sense.” Zuko said quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There's nothing to talk about really, it was in the past,” She turned to smile at him, with that stunning grin, “And you’ve all made it up to me since then.”

Zuko smiled back at her, “So, if I helped cook when I visited the South Pole would I be disrespecting Gran Gran? Cause I would love to help, but crossing her is not a wise decision.”

Katara laughed at that, “Not at all, she would welcome the help, and like I said, you could bond with the tribes women!” 

“I would love nothing more in the world.” Zuko turned back to his vegetables, “well, since you're so bent on helping could you start dishing out the rice?”

It was one of the best meals that Katara had ever had. The group had lounged around the dining room table splitting probably too many bottles of rice wine, trading stories about the times they were apart. Katara had found herself leaning closer and closer to Zuko with each glass until their thighs pressed together and their heads touched when they bent to laugh.

“So Katara insisted she stay an extra day to help.” Toph’s voice was boisterous and friendly.

“Those people needed my help!” Katara said exasperated.

“Sugar Queen, we know you can’t resist a charity case, but I had to sail all the way to the Fire Nation alone on a wooden boat.”

“I think it's cool that Katara started a hospital all by herself in the lower ring.” Aang piped up. A sly smile spread across the airbender’s lips, “Even if Appa had to fly a thousand miles out of his way…”

“Aang…” Katara sighed.

“I’m joking! I’m joking!” Aang threw his hands in the air in surrender.

Her friends weren’t completely incorrect. The hospital in the lower ring was practically her child. After spending so much time in the capital city as ambasador between the Southern Tribe and the Earth Kingdom alongside Toph (who had been acting as an advisor, but soon grew tired of “stuffy nobles” and had opened her own bending school inside the city) Katara had felt useless and she needed to get her hands dirty. So she purchased an old run down mill in the lower ring and built a hospital from the ground up, even finding some waterbenders in the process. It was open twenty-four seven and was completely free. 

She found herself there when she wasn't with the Earth King, and more than once had gotten so involved she had stayed up for days trying to heal someone, or investigating a new disease or injury. Every patient was a new challenge and she reveled in it. But, Katara  would be lying if she said that she didn't get too invested. The legend of the Painted Lady had crossed into the city, in no small part to Katara’s over-enthusiasm. 

During her pondering the conversation had moved on but Zuko leaned over and whispered into her ear, “You can feel free to open up one of those in the Fire Nation, you will not be searching for funds.”

Katara leaned over to him in turn, “I’ll keep that in mind, Fire Lord.”

For the next hour or so the dinner slowly dissolved into chaos, the only sober one being Suki (because of the baby), who retired early during the third verse of Sokka’s half-drunken rendition of a watertribe jig. Katara and Zuko were only a little tipsy because they a) could hold their liquor and b) never were passed the wine because of their position at the table.

Soon, Katara could feel her eyes getting heavy with the exhaustion of the day, and its travels and she turned to Zuko, who was laughing at a joke Toph had just cracked.

“I’m going to bed,” she muttered and punctuated her statement with a yawn. Zuko turned to her quickly,

“Before you go, I want to give you something.” he stood up, brushing some crumbs off his tunic, and extended a hand to her. She took it.

“Give me what?”

“You’ll see, come on.” He led her back to the dark kitchen, still covered in the meals dishes. 

He dropped her hand and began digging around in the cupboards. Katara watched, patient, and curious.

“Here it is!” Zuko's dark head emerged, and in his hands he held a medium sized pot, a melancholy expression crossed his face, “This was my mothers rice pot.”

“Oh, Zuko I can’t…” She covered her mouth. He ran a gentle finger around the edge. 

“It really hit me, what you said about cooking being communal. My mother taught me how to cook rice in this pot, my father didn't like it, he thought it was a peasant’s chore, but it was our little secret. I want you to have it, so everytime you’re cooking alone you can know that I’m here, and my mom is here and you’re always with someone.”

Tears streaked down Katara’s face.

“Zuko I… I love it.” She took it in her hands, feeling the worn metal, used with love. She imagined Zuko’s tiny hands cooking with it, being guided by his mother's gentle ones, “are you sure?” Katara looked into his eyes, they were glistening but filled with happiness.

“I know she would want you to have it.”

...................................................................

I’m sorry for the quality (and posting so late). I wasn't happy with any of the ideas that I had and  literally wrote this entire thing and posted in the same day. But besides that I would like to introduce you to the first of my Zutara Week entries. They are all intertwining and are part of an overarching plot. Where the Gaang is back together on Ember Island on the anniversary of the comet. Also I will be posting them all together on AO3 and probably FF.net but that will come later.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

How would Canada, Prussia, and Romano handle every country but theirs dying? And the micronations. Asking since I'm writing a fanfic, and it's set in the future with time shenanigans. [And yes, america dies, italy, Russia, Germany, everyone but those three and the micronations since they're so small]

Hello, lovely!

This ask took me a bit to warm up to; Hetalia is my happy-go-lucky escapist fandom, but the more I thought about this, the more my own curiosity was piqued.

I took the liberty of assuming this was sort of a “sudden death” scenario, and that the lads find out the Others are missing at relatively the same times. I also tried to be optimistic, and I apologize if some of it is unrealistic.

Hope this is sufficient, and perhaps inspires you in your future writing ventures!

*

Lovi and Gil knew immediately that their brothers were gone. 

Lovino felt the hegemony fall to his shoulders as he was watching the sunrise, sitting on a dock with his feet under the water. He was immediate rage, cursing any name he could think of for the responsibilities now falling to him, for daring to take away someone so young. 

Gilbert, on the other hand, knew as he was brushing his teeth, bright pink bubbles swirling down the drain as he simply collapsed into himself, crumbling to the floor. “I was supposed to go first. Not you. Never you.”

Matthew was the first one to reorganize, take charge of the situation. With all major world powers gone, Canada was now the leader of what remained of the Free World, and he took his duty very seriously. Having been in Berlin already for a meeting, he hunted down the remainder of Germany, dragging the eerily quiet Gil along with him to find any others.

Mattie played the strong one, keeping a stiff upper lip throughout the first few weeks of the crisis. It’s not until he goes back to his house and sees one of America’s stray Converse and Mexico’s favourite hoodie that he completely breaks down.

The humans are in chaos, the global economy having crashed, and a large majority of them now gone. There is panic of an epidemic, of a possible apocalypse, with looting and strong alliances forming between any survivors.

It has been three weeks.

Gil remains stiff and silent, though he does consent to food, sleep, and bathing. Lovino hovers near him in case the idiot tries to do something foolhardy when he finally overcomes the shock.

Italy, what is left of Italy, ties with what remains of Germany for second in strength in this new world. Lovino keeps a stern face, greets each minute of regrowth with a solemnity that Feli and Toni would have teased him endlessly for. When Marcello bursts through the meeting doors one evening with news about refugees, he nearly loses his composure; Seborga looks more like Veneziano than Romano ever cared to admit.

The panic has mostly settled, and an eerie sense of calm and faux normalcy hangs in the air for humanity. There is no real normalcy- Most continue trying to determine if their loved ones are still alive, many don’t return to work, some carry on as if they had no interruptions.

After months of debate, Rome is once more declared the centre of the world, and Lovino and Marcello move permanently into their family home. Many of the micronations soon join them, adopting Ladonia’s preferred communication strategy of staying in touch digitally.

Lovino takes on his new responsibilities easily. He’s lost half his population before, led empires before, been at the centre of the universe before. So long as he keeps himself busy, he can ignore the missing sarcasm, ignore the missing “Fuck!” tossed around every five minutes. The big house is almost filled to capacity; it still feels too empty.

It has been two years, and Humanity is working together to connect everyone who remains to a proper global network. In times of distress, everyone comes together. 

Most migrate nearer to the micronations, seek out shelter in one of the three main remaining nations. But there are some who refuse to leave their homes, and efforts are made to ensure everyone has access to medicine, electricity, and clean water. 

There is more progress now, with no real economy to stop it.

Gilbert remains quiet, though he observes everything. He signs whatever forms need his attention, acknowledges any issues to be addressed. But he can’t help thinking that it should be Freidrich or Ludwig here, that they should both be here.

He misses his inside jokes with England, with Scotland. He misses raising hell with France and Spain and Denmark. He misses shit-talking with Japan, Belgium’s bounding energy, Seychelle’s fierce optimism. All gone, with the survivors trying to build a new world order out of the ashes.

Ten years, and Mattie officially moves in with Lovino. Castel Sant’Angelo has once more been renovated- now into a central home, with more than enough space for every representative to keep their own room. Mattie just shrugs when Lovi raises a brow at his luggage. “It was too quiet, and someone has to keep you in line.”

It has been twenty years; Gil still has yet to speak.

Several attempts have been made to create some form of economy. Each was shot down.

Humanity, now interconnected more than ever, has resumed interest in teleportation and space travel.

Twenty-five years, and everyone now understands at least three languages.

Thirty years, and Mattie sometimes swears he can see Ukraine keeping watch over the garden.

Thirty-five years, and Lovino and Marcello are thick as thieves. Seborga is finally as deadly a shot as Romano, and Lovi has started to embrace his more childish ways at his brother’s encouragement.

Forty years, and two of the Big Three are arguing over which Grecian deity most closely fits them. Lovino insists there is no way he could be Zeus, just as there’s no way in hell Mattie could ever qualify as Poseidon. The debate could have raged for hours, but a dark scowl from the unanimously voted Hades left them both feeling too sheepish to continue.

On the forty-fifth anniversary, Lovino snuck off to the north, taking a boat to explore what still remained of Venezia.

Fifty years later, and the first person to Mars smiled for the camera. In a dialect birthed after the Great Disappearance, she sent love to her family, and made a small speech about progress and adventure and all the hopes for the future.

Millions of miles away, from a small kitchen in the Black Forest, a grainy television delivers the message to a soul older than comprehension. The words sank in, the phantom of a firm hand resting on his shoulder. “We will continue to rebuild, and we will grow stronger.”

For the first time in decades, Prussia smiled.

Fifty-seven years, and no one questioned why Matthew is completely smashed during the first two weeks of July.

Sixty-three years, and Mattie was trying to dig Prussia, Sealand, Wy, and Hong Kong out of a mud pit, cursing up a storm as the four continue to throw more earth at their rescuer’s head.

After eighty-six years, Gil has stopped wearing black. He came to breakfast with a vintage white t-shirt that read “Spread Pages, Not Legs (the ace agenda)” across the front, and Mattie nearly choked on his orange juice before he finished reading.

One century later, and no humans are left alive that can remember the Great Disappearance, the only recounts in history books. The world has rebuilt, and the people have learned to move on.

The micronations have grown into their power, now hosting monthly meetings to discuss policy, agenda, progress, shipping- All the things that society needs to function.

Missing from today’s meeting are the three eldest nations, who had left early in the morning without a word. No one is sure where to find them, where they could be. They’re not gone though, so there is relief.

It is 5 am local time. The sun will be rising soon.

Matthew murmurs a chant, golden glow slipping past his lips and circling around the small trio. Lovino harmonizes with his own sounds, some deep, dark, and inexplicably ancient rasping coating each syllable, cold air tying itself to the dancing lights. Gilbert watches on for a moment, holding in his hand a pile of letters and Alisdair’s old lighter, waiting. The moment comes, and he sets the papers ablaze.

The winds of Lovi’s spellwork and the control in Mattie’s ensures not a speck of ash will hit the ground, and all three watch as their words fly up, disappearing in seemingly midair.

They wait until they are satisfied, then begin the hike back to their car, parked on the old A303, Mattie nearly tripping as Gil rushes past him, desperately trying to beat Lovi in their impromptu race. The Canadian snickers quietly as both of them fall in the process, underestimating the steepness of the hill. Taking the initiative, he rushes past them, outright cackling at the outraged squawks of protest behind him.

None of them see the hazy figure sitting atop the bluestone, smiling softly before fading away.

The world is finally at peace.

*

And one addition, in case anyone was curious:

[windfighter]

@stony-week, day 5: Soulmates

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Relationship: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers Tags:  Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Wings, Hurt Tony            

Summary:

In a world full of people, meeting your soulmate isn't a guarantee. Steve had hope when he was young, but as the years went by the hope disappeared.

Enter Tony Stark.

— 

Steve used to dream about meeting his soulmate. He had been sure he would some day, that even someone like him – a scrawny kid from a poor home – had someone out there for them. When he laid eyes on Bucky the first time and instantly fell head over heels in love he thought it was real. They touched, a jolt ran through his body. Then nothing. No magic explosion of colours, no flight, no change in his white wings. Bucky laughed at him, white wings flapping happily behind him. It must have been so obvious what Steve had been hoping.

Bucky introduced him to lot of dames over the years, sometimes the occassional bloke, but nothing ever happened. For every person he touched, for every time his wings didn't change colours, he kept losing hope.

He met Peggy. It was the second time he fell head over heels in love and maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. She was a respectable dame, never let her skin touch anyone and Steve kept his distance. Then he ended up getting the serum. Peggy eyed him, looked at his new muscles. She let her bare hand trace over his bare chest.

Nothing. Maybe Steve was cursed. He smiled at her, then chaos errupted around him and his life got too busy to even think about soulmates. When he crashed into the ice he said a quiet prayer for whoever was his soulmate.

Please, don't let them ever feel lonely.

Steve opened his eyes to a completely new world. People looked different, sounds were different, the skyline was different, the houses different and even smells were different. The first person that touched him was a man named Phil Coulson. Coulson's wings were already coloured, glittering in the lights of the jet they were in. Steve wanted to say something, didn't know what, and looked away again. His own soulmate was probably long since dead.

He didn't touch people after that. Took clues from Peggy – only shook people's hands when he wore gloves, stood far enough away that they wouldn't accidentally touch each other, stuff like that. It was easier than he thought, people in the new world were reserved. He was introduced to Natasha, to Bruce, to Thor and to Tony Stark. Only Bruce's wings had colours – two shades of brown and some green – the rest of them had white wings just like him, except for Thor who didn't have wings. He observed them, the way they interracted. Tony touched everyone. Occassionally a pat on the shoulder, a pat on the back, a firm handshake. Natasha's touches were reserved, careful, planned. Thor's were strong, abundant, friendly. Bruce's were shy, quick to disappear, as if he was afraid to hurt them.

Clint joined their group, his wings the same colours as Coulson's and Steve smiled, nodded at him. Clint was almost as touchy as Stark, but in a different way, a more natural way.

Once Steve tried to pat Tony's shoulder. Tony flinched, pushed his hand away and then patted Steve's shoulder instead. Steve made note of it but didn't know how to take it.

Tony Stark fascinated him, but their interactions left a lot of room for improvement. Half of the times it ended in shouting matches, the other half in cold shoulders and one of them leaving the room. Tony tried to introduce him to the new world's technology, Steve turned right around and asked Clint instead. Steve tried to teach Tony to draw, Tony turned right around and designed him a new suit to get him to stop.

”I can draw, I just draw different things than you do”, he had said when he gave it to Steve.

They all moved into the newly renovated Avengers Tower. Thor on the upper floor, then Steve, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Natasha. One floor for each of them. There was a communal floor between Tony and Clint where they could all gather. Most nights they did, all of them except Tony who was in his workshop.

Occassionally they would sit in the communal floor and take care of each others' wings. Thor would watch them as they worked, fascinated by the midgardian tradition. Tony never joined for that and yet his wings were always spotless, not a feather out of place. Clint laughed and joked about Tony going to professional groomers but the way Tony had flinched under Steve's touch made him doubt it.

”I can't have a soulmate”, Natasha confessed to Steve one day. ”It's easier to be a spy when your wings are clean.”

”But Clint and Coulson?”

”They don't use Clint for spywork any longer. He's still great when they need an assassin.”

”My wife hates that though. She'd prefer if I retired.”

Steve blinked and looked at the vent Clint's voice was coming from.

”Wife?”

”Yeah, man. Coulson's great and all but I'm a married man. Plus, I love her.”

”But...”

Steve shook his head and decided it wasn't his place to pry. The new world had its own rules and he had tried to learn them, but when you hadn't lived them it was hard.

Steve started feeling comfortable about touching his team mates after a few months. All except Tony, who now that he looked closer was equally careful when touching people as Steve was. Except the occassionally firm handshake of course and Steve just couldn't understand it. He came to understand it when he was going to the workshop after a mission to talk with Tony.

Tony stripped out of the armor, stretched. Steve stopped outside and watched him move. He felt a weird warmness in his chest whenever he watched Tony. Tony put a t-shirt and sweatpants on over the undersuit he wore for the suit. He blinked when he saw Steve outside the door, gestured for him to come in.

”Hey”, Steve smiled. ”That was... You did good during the mission.”

Tony picked a pair of gloves up from the desk, smiled at Steve.

”Well, we have a pretty great leader.”

He put the gloves on, pressed a button on them. They formed themselves after his hands, their colour changing to match Tony's skin and Steve let out a small ”oh”. Tony gestured to Steve's hands.

”I can make you a pair as well. I've noticed your habit of wearing gloves.”

”It's fine, thanks anyway.”

Tony nodded, brought up some holograms and started making notes. Steve decided not to risk another shouting match and left him alone.

They kept working together, kept living together. They became more and more of a family over the eight months they had shared lives. Tony was a little outside, spending more time in the workshop then on the couch with the rest of them, but he came up one afternoon when they had another grooming session. Steve put the finishing touches on Natasha's wings, then patted the stool Natasha left and smiled at Tony.

”Come on, let me do you next!”

Tony and Clint both burst out laughing and Steve blushed.

”Not... not like that, come on guys.”

The laughter died out. Tony looked at Steve, sipped a cup of coffee. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. After half a minute he held up a finger, then went to the elevator.

”Jarvis?” Steve asked, uncertain about what had happened.

He could feel the others exchange glances as well, Jarvis stayed suspiciously quiet. Then Tony returned with a bag, placed it next to Steve and sat down.

”Use those. And be careful.”

”I know how to groom.”

The others sat down around the room, their eyes all locked to the two. Steve was nervous. He opened the bag, pulled out the tools. The brush was the softest he had ever held and he placed it against his cheek just to feel it.

”Impressed?”

”Definately. These must have cost a fortune.”

”They did.”

Months ago Steve would have thought Tony was just flaunting his riches in their faces, but they had grown closer since then. He placed the brush against Tony's wing and Tony pulled away.

”Tony...”

”Sorry, sorry. Just... You need to tell me what you're doing.”

”Okay”, Steve laughed. ”I'll start brushing your left wing now, okay?”

Tony nodded. Steve gently pulled the brush through the feathers, used his fingers to make sure they ended up correctly. Tony flinched again. They all had their problems and Steve knew that even if he hadn't learned what Tony's were yet.

”I'm using my fingers as well”, he said. ”Does it feel okay?”

”Mm...”

Tony sounded relaxed and Steve continued. The others were still staring, Clint perched on the kitchen table, Natasha in the couch leaning against the back of it, Bruce on a chair sipping on tea and Thor sitting on the floor next to them.

”I'm stretching your wing now so I can get to all the feathers.”

Tony flinched, pulled away and fell of the stool as Steve grabbed the wing. It slipped out of Steve's hand and Steve stared at Tony.

”Sorry, shit, ow. Sorry I flinched. Don't... ow.”

Tony's wings pulled back and Tony turned around so he was between Steve and them. Steve blinked, stared at his hand and stared at Tony again. Now that he thought about it he had never seen Tony fly like everyone else did, he only flew in his Iron Man-suit. Was there a problem with his wings?

”Did I grip too hard? I tried being gentle.”

”They're just...” Tony hung his head. ”They're very sensitive.”

”I'll be more careful.”

Steve patted the stool again. Tony hesitated, then sat up again. He stretched the wings himself and Steve noticed how they didn't quite reached their full lenght. He decided not to comment on it.

Tony's armor broke during one of their battles. That's when Steve learned what was wrong with Tony's wings. The armor fell off him and he fell towards the ground, stretched his wings to slow his descent. He crashed to the ground, cursed loudly. Steve ran over to him, he was lying on his stomach, one of his wings was bent, bone sticking out and feathers ripped off and spread over the ground around them. Steve crouched, placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony hid his face in his arms and groaned.

”Again. Always the wings. Shit.”

”You stay there, I'll protect you and then we'll get you to medical, okay?”

Tony turned his head to glance at Steve, a frustrated smile on his face.

”At least it wasn't kidnappers that destroyed it this time. Should heal better now.”

Steve wanted to ask but it was neither the time nor place. He smiled at Tony, warmth spreading through him when he realized Tony hadn't waved him off, had actually agreed to let him play the knight in shining armor. He gripped his shield and went to work.

Clint had said he loved his wife even though Coulson was his soulmate. Steve hadn't understood it, but maybe soulmates wasn't always about getting married and living happily together ever after. The world was full of people after all, it should be statistically impossible to find one soulmate among all of them. Steve stared at Tony over the breakfast table. Tony was flipping through his tablet, working on new arrows for Clint. They had touched each other so many times, were always so close. There was no way Tony was his soulmate, statistically their skin must have touched sometime during the year they had worked together.

Still, he was certain he was in love with Tony. Not as head over heel as he had been with Bucky or Peggy. No, this love had built slower, started with laying a foundation. Friendship. When did friendship turn into love? Steve bit his lip, still staring at Tony. Tony's lips twitched and formed a smile but he didn't say anything. Steve kept poking at his breakfast.

”What is love?” he asked his cereal, not expecting Tony to listen.

”Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more”, Tony answered with a smile and Steve raised an eyebrow.

Maybe love was just stupid jokes shared over the table.

Tony used to dream about meeting his soulmate. Then Howard took that dream from him. Stark men are made from iron, they have no need for silly things like soulmates. He didn't need a soulmate, he kept himself happy with one night-stands and alcohol and stupid jokes. Kept himself busy with building weapons. Then Afghanistan had happened and his wings had been destroyed. After that he didn't even want to meet his soulmate. He stopped touching people, kept more to himself. Built himself a suit to be able to fly again.

Then he had met Steve freaking Rogers. Captain America. Who could in no way at all be his soulmate. More like his soul nemesis. They argued, fought, argued, helped each other and shared another shouting match. But with each game they played, each time they evaded each other, shouted at each other, praised each other, they got closer. Steve's wings were white as snow, beautiful, and sometimes Tony tried to imagine them with blue and brown feathers. Then he'd blush and hurry away from Steve.

They had worked together for eight months when Tony realized he was desperately in love with Steve freaking Rogers. He hid the fact deep in his heart.

Steve was there to help him when his wing broke during battle and Tony's walls crumbled hard. He let the truth slip out, the truth he had promised to never let anyone other then Pepper and Rhodey know. Had told Steve all about what happened when he was kidnapped.

They had worked together for one year when he realized Steve freaking Rogers was desperately in love with him.

”What is love?” Steve blurted out and Tony knew he wasn't supposed to react to it but he couldn't help himself.

”Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more.”

He smiled, but didn't look at Steve. Steve finally returned to eating his breakfast. Tony didn't need a soulmate, didn't need love. He had his inventions, his company, his robots and his found family. But when Steve got up from the table Tony did as well. He grabbed Steve's hand. He never made those gloves for him.

”Steve”, he whispered.

His courage was gone, he fell quiet. Steve looked at him, tilted his head. Warmth spread through Tony's body as he met Steve's eyes, made him feel a little more couragous. There was nothing to fear. Steve Rogers was in love with him. He was in love with Steve Rogers. He took a deep breath.

”I love you.”

Steve took a shaky breath. Tony didn't expect an answer. He pressed the button on his gloves, pulled them off. His hands were shaking. He had only ever allowed Pepper and Rhodey to touch him since then, had only ever touched them this intimately.

”I love you”, he whispered again.

The gloves fell to the floor. Steve wasn't wearing his, he didn't do so in the tower any longer. Nothing was going to happen, there was no way Steve Rogers was Tony Stark's soulmate, and Tony grabbed Steve's hand.

The world exploded in colours only for them. A jolt ran through Tony's body, through his wings. His eyes got wet when Steve's white wings slowly turned blue and brown and he could see Steve's eyes getting equally wet. The colours around them calmed down again, returned to normal. Tony was breathing heavily, hadn't gathered himself, when Steve pulled him closer, pressed his lips against Tony's, and they were warm, perfect, soft and Tony melted even though the kiss in itself was lacking, panicked and greedy.

”I thought I wouldn't find you”, Steve breathed out as he pulled back.

”I didn't want to find you”, Tony whispered, ”but I'm happy I did.”

They shared another kiss, less panicked, softer, full of promise of a lot more to come. They had both dreamed about finding their soulmates.

They didn't need to dream any longer.

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole.  800 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions.  Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth.  I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off.  None of the windows were smashed.  There were mature fruit trees in the backyard.  If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential.  The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced.  The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did.  It had a boiler.  I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning.  And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler.  The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them.  It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually.  It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house.  I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make.  I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound.  The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul.  Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it got dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen.  Not exciting, but satisfying.  Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access.  Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse.  I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in.  I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it.  The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch.  It was fine.  I understood completely.  I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all. 

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine.  I was young and healthy.  I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever?  I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight.  I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips.  I was so fucking thirsty. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me.  Chicken noodle out of a can.  It’s not that hard to make.  I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep.  Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night.  I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card.  So was the mattress and sheets.  It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them.  I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom?  I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors.   I must be losing my mind.  I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work.  I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down.  I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not.  I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.  

The watched feeling was worse.  I ordered some rat traps with my groceries.  I didn’t catch anything.  They didn’t take the bait.  I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning.  That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself.  Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud.  “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure.  “At least it is some sound,” I muttered.  “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback.  I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms.  The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks.  When I needed to actually go out, that might help.  In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind.  Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet.  Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.”  Shit.  I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily.  I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early.  In the morning there were footprints in the dust.  They weren’t mine.  They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human.  Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside.  I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house.  I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?”  I called from the doorway, ready to run.  I had no idea where I could even run to.  “Um…  Is anyone there?”  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Hi?  Um ….  I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here.  I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck.  The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting.  “I … uh…  I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here?  Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit.  That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said.  Oh.  “No, that was an accident.  I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that.  I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette.  I hadn’t smoked in years.    The sun started to go down and the bugs came out.  I was being eaten alive outside.  Going inside was scary but he was right.  He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door.  “Did you order furniture on my credit card?”  I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy.  I shivered and thought about going back outside.  The door pulled itself closed behind me.  I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything.  I could hear something breathing. I turned again.  Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear.  Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now.  “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence.  Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room.  I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing.  I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate.  I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon.  “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet.  “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief.  I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now.  You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove.  My breakfast dishes were gone.  I found them clean and dry in the cupboard.  “Thank you,” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet.  The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating.  Or washing and drying the dishes.  I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor.  Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there.  I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it.  It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me.  I spun, there was nothing there.  “Do not open that door.  Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant.  I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again.  I was still out there when the sun went down and the backlight turned on.  Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen.  I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big.  He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong.  I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped.  “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows.  Go to bed.”

“Um…  I was thinking, that should be your room, really.  Your closet.  You picked out the bed.  I can just camp down -”

“No.  Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened?  I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I.  The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out.  “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that.  “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me?  What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep.  You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?”  he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”  

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one.  Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six.  It had been turned off.  The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs.  The air smelled faintly of solder.  There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker.  Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I stared at it dumbly.  I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home.  The only other plumbing was the upstairs bathroom and the antique washing machine in the basement.  I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone. 

Well, not gone.  I could see it installed through the holes in the walls.  I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water.  I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out.  Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months.  I tried all the taps and the toilet.  Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.”  It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

[annatao]

Creepypasta: The bloody judge

Kira was born in an ordinary family, her mother worked as an accountant in a small company.Kira did not even know her farher. Since childhood, the girl was one oddity in games- she tore the doll's head, put them over the experiments and laughed and played with them making crazy eyes that frightened her mother and brother. When Kira  was 13 years old,  suddenly died her older brother from a stroke that affected the psyche of girls. When the girl was 18, she moved to another city to her aunt to study time because it was not convenient to travel from one city to another. The girl has long fascinated stalker's life and has been many times at different gatherings, where she went to many places, down in the abandoned caves, bunkers, but it was not enough of the adrenaline. One day, for the next gathering, she met a guy named Alex, who was soon replaced by her older brother. After about half a year after they met, Alex was gone and now her main gole go to Pripyat and find her friend. Soon she came sms from her friend Sveta. She met Sveta  in college  from 1 year of study:

C: hi, Kira! I've something heard from  our old friend . A week later, they were going to Pripyat for a tour, but they were for the complete collection is missing two people.Do you wanna go?

K:why not? I do.

C: is great!  do not worry, all paid for, just two people refused to travel for whatever reason, and asked to give the tickets to someone.

K: well, thanks for the info

Kira  knew, it her only chance to find out what happened to Alex. Suddenly, she came to the phone SMS "help me." She is very surprised, because SMS came from Alex, but she knew that his phone is broken and lying in his house. Shrugging, the girl went home and decided to walk up to it through the forest park.  Kira entered the park with the last rays of the sun. At this point, she felt at ease the soul that seemed strange to her. Before leaving the park, she stopped and looked up at the sky, when suddenly something flashed in the bushes, like a bullet, and then there was quiet melancholy sound. On guard, the girl slowly walked out, looking around, until she again to heard rustling in the bushes, but this time the sound was close. Major tremors ran through the girl's back and out of the bushes came a quiet, but like a dead voice whispered something. For the first time the girl was scared and started running away towards the house. Arriving at the apartment and going to her room, she slammed the door, threw her bag on the floor and sat down at the table of the small workshop, where she collected all sorts of stuff for hiking or just what comes to mind. Breathing heavily, her eyes ran in panic across the table, and her heart was beating so fast and hard that smacked into her eyes. Gradually, the panic began to recede, her eyes began to complain of fatigue and lack of sleep, her body relaxed and leaned against the table. She close eyes and under the hum of the old table lamp quickly fell asleep.

A week has passed. Long-awaited day of departure is came , and her last free hours she decided to clean up in her  workshop. By removing unnecessary details, she found her first pictures with Alex, she made it on the  first joint gathering. In the production of parts and tools for their "products",she found it at the gatherings , or she worked as all. Knock at the door. Sveta, joyful impatience, came  into the room with stuffed bag . She looked and put the bag on the chair:

C:Are you ready for the tour? What are you doing again?

K:N-nothing -Kira quickly removed the photos and put them in a bag next to the clippers, -just... it does not matter...

-OK

The girl dressed in a dark blue turtleneck and black pants with the dressings on her legs, wore black ankle boots and took her bag with stalker's jacket swamp color. She   came out of the room, and then came out of the apartment. Arriving at the gathering place, Kira was surprised, that people were not enough, that encouraged girl, but it feel vanished. With Kira and Sveta went  Lena named Bayonet. She wasleader in own  "gang", she always yelling at everyone and commands, and if something is wrong, be ready for the bad joke of her. A few days later the group arrived in the Kiev region, and then the group arrived in a small village, where the live stalkers and ordinary people . The group approached the highest average body man with a small bristles on his face and a scar on his nose. He was dressed in a camouflage brown jacket,  dark green pants and army boots. Adjusting its hood, he coldly looked students:

-you that group of tourists?

Yes, and you are our guide? 'asked the world

Yes, my name is Joel, but my nickname Sacrum. Come on, I'll take you to the local "hotel" - a man for a moment, he looked at Cyrus turned away and immediately went into the heart of the village. The settlement was gray and gloomy, the sky in the clouds, the trees were dried and black and only looked away trees leaves. Many looked at the newcomers, some even shook his head, saying one has committed suicide, even though they just came for adrenaline. Once inside the building there were all renovated and they were soon distributed through the rooms. In the evening, Cyrus was not myself from the strange voices and decided to take a stroll. The street was dark and damp, and there was a small moldy mist under his feet. Heading into the heart of the village, she noticed that nobody around, except that she saw Lena, which is why it looked into the well. For the first time Cyrus felt strong anger and hatred from which it did not even notice as she came from behind and pushed her into a well. The sound of the water was not, and only stopped abruptly screaming Lena. I am realizing that she did Cyrus hiding behind the house and sat on the ground in tears, clutching her head.

What have I done!!? - She thought holding his head, but for some reason suddenly felt light and even joy in the soul, and his face COLOUR smile. "No, you did everything correctly .. remember that she made on one of the gatherings, when she locked you in the bunker, while you did not find Alex. You died then, and now you're the judge! Now you navedesh order!" Swept dead voice head girl, the same voice that had once heard in the forest park.

Wiping tears, she felt bad and slowly walked to the hotel through the dark alleys of the old houses. When they reached the hotel, she was somehow terribly wanted to climb through the window, rather than go through the main entrance. The house was small and, therefore, up to 2 floors, it is easily accessible. Noticing that her friend is sleeping, she tried to go quietly, but their rustle Cyrus still woke her:

K. Cyrus? why are you awake? something happened? -COH Light murmured, peering out from under a blanket.

Cyrus did not say anything, but just turned and looked wild-eyed holding a machete in his hand. Light was not myself from her eyes. A wide smile graced his face. Eyes mad at her. Cyrus sat down and straightened the tuft of her hair. Slowly brought it out and flick slashed her friend's neck. Blood warm rivulets ran down his neck. She wanted to scream but could not. The surrounding silence was broken by groaning from broken cords and larynx, and the head is not littered with hastily back dragging a body. Looking at the body of his best friend, she licked her lips, and without thinking twice jumped out the window. She knew that she could not be, and therefore went to Pripyat along the path through the trees. Despite the rather eerie atmosphere, she walked along the winding, overgrown path looking at the map of Alex. Soon, the old and mutilated trees became fewer and fewer, and on the horizon through the gray mist appeared the first high-rise buildings of Pripyat. Sighing deeply, she went deep into the dead city and listening to the silence of the night and then pierced someone's noises, strange noises, the cry of crows and howling wind. Turning the corner of a building and checked his map as suddenly blew strong and cold wind carrying with him a card.

F YOUR MOTHER !!! - I grumbled loudly Cyrus, but then it has attracted attention as someone's body lay in the middle of the dark yard. Deciding that it is the body of Alex, she hastily began to look into the pockets of the lamp, but suddenly heard a noise behind her. She turned at the sound, and not having time to investigate the situation was hit in the forehead. Sometimes she came to herself and only then she could see how it haul through the lanes and courtyards. Each time the landscape has changed but the same were only three dark silhouette.

Late at night she woke up on the floor in a dark and dirty room, which covered the small and the only honey. From the ceiling fell off the old plaster walls in rust and mold; on itself, she found a dirty robe and on his hands were wounds from needles and something else. Immediately she could not get up because of the weakness and severe headache, but most of all it struck mutilated corpse in the other corner. It was her friend at the gathering, but all in burns and stains in some parts of the body are the joints and bones covered with blood vessels, and in the eye sockets stuck small steel bars. Rising from the floor, she heard footsteps approaching the door:

Sir, we have taken samples of the girls and your guesses were not groundless. Compatibility for the experiment and the probability that it will survive 94.7%!

-excellent! it immediately to the operating table and prepare everything you need! I hope that the new drug will work this time.

A minute went into the room some people in tight suits and took the girl by the hand dragged her into the operating room, through the old rooms. Cyrus began to resist, but as soon as she left the room became howl and moan from burning on the face and legs. Legs did not obey, and she could not walk from the pain, all darkened and swam in his eyes. Woman Soon thrown on the table and its bright white light blinded, and his hands strapped to the table. After a moment, she felt a sharp pain in the eye and hand.

-Proklyate! urgently! an urgent need to remove her eye! and bring the anti-radiation drugs !!! - shouted someone's a woman's voice. The girl began to twitch convulsively, and she put a shot, causing the body stopped moving. The following hours throughout the labs heard heart-rending cries and screams. From shock and pain spasms girl's body arches and twitching, eye bleeding, and introduced pieces of wire sticking out of her collarbones and arms. Suddenly she felt the rope someone loosened his right hand. Deep in the subconscious mind remains of shouting to her that this is her chance. Gathered last strength, she pulled her hand with such force that it hit it on the lamp, which shines directly into her face. Sprinkle hail the girl's body, she was able to take the splinter and stick in your head to one of the captors, while the others fled from the room. Getting up from the floor, she managed to pull out a pair of wires sticking out of himself, but his body did not seem to listen and jerked her every move, as if she were allowed through the current is through the conductor. Turning around, she saw herself in the reflection: battered brown hair, pale skin was a cadaver in burns and red spots, bruises under his eyes and the wound .. cut from the glass went through the left side of the face and only one of its happy-cut does not hurt the eyes, but not the second eyes ... have to survive. Wiping the blood from his face, Kira took a small forceps and headed down the hallway to the main center.

-SSK5B02 Welcome! can you hear me?! - he shouted the doctor in the phone.

Do not worry ... no more and you will not hear, - he said quietly in a hoarse voice, stabbing him in the Adam's apple forceps and cut it up to his chin. Hands professor flickers on the table and in a desperate attempt, trying to strike the girl. Feeling with one hand on the table next to the folders souvenir dagger in a beautiful stand, he pulled the sword from its sheath, raised his hand and tried to hit the girl with a knife in his head. But it was too late. The last thing he saw was a disfigured face and a girl sticking a dagger that has passed through both cheeks. She slowly pulled out the knife and threw it on the floor. Smiling broadly already limp body of professors, Cyrus turned off the phone and went to the side of the corridor, when suddenly she saw a familiar figure, it was Alex, who was standing in the corridor doorway. He was terribly mutilated, just like the corpse in her room, and that resulted in the girl horror. Tattered clothes as myself flesh Man, no eyes, except that protruded vessels of the eye and red blood flowed. Beckoning for a man disappeared from sight. She did not contradict him and went without paying attention to what was already behind her followed him. In one of the corridors man again he appeared and disappeared through a small door next to the exit. Once inside and slammed the door, she found her things that were lying next to a shelf of strange cans, and on the floor littered with old yellowed newspaper. Looking around, Cyrus dressed, and taking his gun went to the wall where the jolly old newspaper about the loss. Hearing the corridor running away, without hesitation she climbed into an old ventilation shaft, and soon it was thrown into a large old container that was standing around the corner of the huge building. Ghost-not just to keep up, but only quietly whispered in a dead voice, as if hypnotizing and forced her to stand up. The girl ran away from the horrible place, hiding in the cloud forests.

2 months later

Evening of the bustling city. The woman returned home and changed into a warm home linen included TV. At that time she listens to the foreign news, especially about the Kirovsky district and how many people are missing, and then found the mutilated corpses, and some have been without golov.2 months ago great-niece was missing. Lisa many times punished herself and her passion, but the fact that Cyrus was killed - in it she did not believe. Lisa also supported his cousin Kate. Kira's mother wanted to sleep, and then completely become delirious. The woman managed to bring his sister back in order. But just a week before she died. It is killed by a drunk driver. The woman died at the scene from chest fractures. The car is too much a woman pinned to a tree that touched the heart bone.

As usual television broadcast about the economy, about the household councils and of the typical news about events in the city. Nothing interesting. Rising from the sofa soft woman went to the kitchen to make himself a hot tea and enjoy it with a chocolate cake. By putting a small ladle of water to warm up, Lisa felt strangely it seemed that the house has someone else. And someone sitting in Kira's room. After her disappearance she did not dare go there. She was afraid. This feeling is not lost even after dinner. After retiring to her room Lisa took a sleeping pill from the nightstands and taking pills fell immediately to sleep.

Deep night. Outside, the rain poured down in buckets that muffles the noise from cars passing by the house. Suddenly there was a creak in the hallway, as if someone had walked heavy quickly and disappeared into the next room. Lisa would have written off all its neighbors, if not distinct noises and chatter something glass. On the back of the woman walked cold shivers, and his heart pounding in his chest. Swallowing, she slowly stood up from the bed, and then wandered out of the room. The woman saw that the bloody footprints to drag out of the kitchen and ends at the threshold of Kira room. From under the door gap was evident that the feeble light was burning in the room. Wedding Crashers. The smell of blood, Hughes covered his nose and mouth. Approaching nearer and nearer, she heard the intruder something spends on steel that publish unpleasant rattle. Taking out a small basket of old cane invalid woman opened the door, and then froze in horror, but in her veins the blood froze. Under the dim light of a desk lamp and sat Cyrus winepress bloody machete. The very same girl was terribly disfigured, and her skin was putrid, like a dead man in the grave:

-davno not seen Aunt lysates cold voice, the girl said, and then looked up to the light of a desk lamp lit her face. The woman was frightened. No. This is not her niece, a mutilated monster. From fear female soul went into the heel, and then ran away screaming slamming the door behind him. Running out onto the landing Lisa began to type in the phone number of the police, who managed to take with them. But trembling hands as evil is not obeyed. Dialing a phone number, she leaned against it to his ear, and then became a heart-rending scream and cry, "Help!".

Come on, I'll help you-a woman's voice came from behind. Swing. Old wheelchair cane passes through the neck and out through his right eye.

Early in the morning to the home of Lisa Hughes came two police cars. Seizing a gun and shockers, police officers rushed to the staircase:

-bozhe my ...- probubnel senior lieutenant looking at the blood running down the stairs. Carefully lift them upward met with stony faces frightened crowd, which quickly fled their homes in panic. Arriving officers froze looking at the body of a woman lying in blood.

-Lord ..- nasty man said looking at the bloody inscription written by the victim's severed fingers - "witness".

[whindsor]

farmer steve life!!! for @isaaclahys!!! (also sorry it’s so long and so introductory i don’t know how to half ass things)

It was his damn impulsivity, really. Who knew the thing that used to get him in the most trouble would make everything finally go right?

“What’s next, Cap?” That’s what Sam had asked when he’d finished returning all the stones. He’d taken one look at Bucky, thinking of all the conversations they’d had about after the war and retiring, and promptly held his shield out to his friend.

“Dunno. You’re the Captain now.” It was a lame joke from a movie neither one of them liked, but it got his point across. He was done. Done with all the time traveling, and aliens, and shouldering the responsibilities of the world. Now all he wanted was some goddamn peace and quiet. Sam had fought him on it, of course. I’m not good enough for this and this is yours and did you mean to hand this to Buck-eye? But Steve was adamant, and Bucky agreed. The world needed Captain America, and Captain America needed someone to do the things that he couldn’t. And Steve needed his own space. 

That’s how he ended up buying three acres in the middle of Vermont with a house that could barely be described as a fixer-upper and three boxes of books on gardening and livestock. He’d been a city kid his whole life, but he was smart, and strong, and determined. That was what it took to be a farmer, right?

It had been a long time since Steve felt completely incompetent at something, but home renovation quickly reminded him that his moxie was not enough to solve some problems. So he’d taken another trip to the bookstore (“Why not just use Amazon?” “I don’t trust Alexa”) and gotten everything from Carpentry for Dummies to The Magnolia Story, which actually had nothing to do with construction but did make him feel a little more inspired. Once prepared with his newfound knowledge, he took a carpentry pencil to the wood panel of the kitchen and wrote out his list. Every morning he woke up with the sun and got to work, slowly making his way through each project until the sun started setting. Then he drove the old pickup he’d purchased to replace his motorcycle into town to get supper at the local diner, treat himself to a slice of pie and some coffee (even adding a little bit of sugar, he still couldn’t believe how readily available it was) before going back home to crash. 

Once he’d painted over the list as a way to cross off his final project, the house was solid and perfect and empty. Not of things, no. He’d splurged and bought comfortable furniture and a few essentials (and nonessentials), but now that he didn’t have the sound of his hammer pounding or saw spinning, the house seemed quiet. Very quiet. Too quiet. 

A dog. He should get a dog! That was next on the list, he decided. The next morning, he woke with the sun, cooked himself breakfast for the first time in months, and drove the old truck an hour away to the next town over. The shelter was relatively empty, most of its occupants being feral cats with a few stray dogs. He walked the aisles, hands in his pockets as he looked at the few choices. He was just losing hope until he turned onto the last row, spotting a large black Labrador mix stretched out on his bed. He lifted his head, looking him dead in the eye and wagging his tail exactly one time, as if he didn’t want to get his hopes up that Steve was coming to see him. He knelt in front of the cage, the dog eyeing him suspiciously before slowly getting up and inching his way towards the door. Steve slowly held a hand up, and the dog stretched his neck to sniff it, his tail starting to move just a little bit. His tongue barely darted out, licking his fingers.

“Hey, bud,” Steve murmured. The dog’s tail started moving more. “Whattya say we get you outta here, hm?” 

As if he understood him, he started wagging his tail furiously, his claws clicking on the concrete floor as he pranced. The woman with the keys opened the gate, and the dog hesitated for a minute before moving out of the pen and into Steve’s waiting embrace, shaking with excitement as he tried to touch as much of his body to him. A quick leash, a few signatures, and a hastily written check, and Steve and Roosevelt were on their way back home.

With the house done and man’s best friend by his side, now he could finally tackle the garden. Fall was just beginning, and he consulted a few charts and books to prepare himself. He thought Roosevelt might help him with the digging, but the dog was perfectly content to lay on the porch and watch him do all the work. Turns out tilling the earth was really hard, and plowing straight lines even harder. Farming was challenging, and exhausting, and tedious. And he was loving every minute of it. For once, if he screwed up, that just meant he had to go to town for the market, no harm no foul. It was liberating. 

Every morning, Roosevelt woke him up just as the sky started to lighten. They went for a jog, past the few houses that sat quietly over the couple of miles close to his own. The sun was usually cresting the horizon when they got back, but instead of going into the shower, he just changed into jeans and dirty work boots and went out to his rows, checking the water in the soil and adding more where it was needed. He went down each lane, step by step, pulling up the weeds that threatened to choke his little seeds that were trying so hard to grow. 

Then, one day, instead of dirt and weeds, there were tiny green sprouts standing proudly in the ground. He whooped loudly, holding his hands proudly in the air, thinking that this was possibly the best he’d felt in years. Roosevelt looked vaguely unimpressed, but he didn’t care. He had built a house. He had tilled the earth. He was growing things. Whether or not they actually bore anything edible remained to be seen, but right now all that mattered was those little green leaves, waving in the breeze. 

Every day, he got to go outside, feel the sun on his face and the cool breeze as it brought the tellings of fall, and take care of his little plants. Every day they got a little taller, and a little fuller, until they came up to his waist and started bearing the tiniest fruits and vegetables. Every day he helped something grow, instead of trying his damndest to tear it down. A few plants turned into a lot of plants, and soon he expanded to chickens, four little birds nestled in a coop that he built himself. It would take a few months before they could lay eggs, but it would be worth it, he knew. 

One morning, he woke up to Roosevelt growling, his ears perked up and the hackles on his back raised. At first, he thought it was just from the rain storm outside, but then he heard a scratching at the backdoor, and a high pitched whining. He pulled off the covers, hushing the dog and going to the back door. He carefully pried open the big door, the cool, wet air blowing in through the screen door. And there, curled up on his back porch, shivering and soaked, was a big golden retriever with a pink collar. She looked up at him as the door opened, begging to come inside. He obliged, opening the screen and letting her come inside. Roosevelt greeted her as an old friend, jumping around like a puppy again even though the golden was more subdued. 

“Hey, sweet girl. Where’d you come from, hm?” he asked, holding a hand up. She came up to him, her tail between her legs, startling as he reached for the collar. He finally got a hold of it, the pink collar sliding off as she pulled away from him. But at least he could read the tags now, and grab his phone to call the number on the back. “Alright, Daisy, let’s call mom or dad, huh?” he said, tossing a towel in her direction and not worrying about the water drops going everywhere on the tile floor. He dialed the number, pacing slowly as it rang. 

“Hello?” the feminine voice on the other end sounded worried, and he could hear the rain and the rumble of thunder behind her.

“Hi, my name is Steve. Uh, I think I found your Daisy.” he said. 

“Oh my God! Thank you, thank you so much! I promise I’m a good dog owner, but she needed out and the storm blew my fence down and-and-she’s so scared of thunderstorms she just bolted when the first thunder sounded and-” she rambled, clearly relieved but still shaky.

“It’s okay, it happens.” he said with a laugh. He told her his address, and she thanked him about a hundred more times before hanging up. Steve smiled down at his phone, eyed the two dogs laying in front of the fireplace, and went to go make some coffee. Just as he was mixing a little bit of sugar into it, a bright flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen, followed by a loud clap of thunder that shook the walls. He heard Daisy as she yelped and whined, but he also heard the panicked clucking of his chickens. Roosevelt could take care of the dog, he would have to take care of the fowl. 

Steve put on a baseball cap, ducking his head against the rain and going to pull the chicken coop onto the porch. But the birds were so panicked that they were shaking their house, shifting it uncontrollably until the door popped open. He shut it as fast as he could, but one managed to escape, dumbly taking off back into the rain. He swore loudly, shoving the coop under the awning and running after it, his boots sliding in the mud as he rounded the corner towards the front of the house. Who knew chickens were so goddamn fast?! None of the books he read mentioned that!

Luckily, he didn’t have to outrun the chicken, as when he arrived at the front of the house, he found a pretty woman on the porch, soaked to her bones and holding his runaway fowl. He slowed to a walk, giving her a crooked grin.

“You found my chicken.” he said, gesturing at the terrified thing in her hands.

“You found my dog.” she countered with a relieved smile. He held out his hands for the bird, tucking it under his arm and extending his hand.

“Steve.” he said as she shook it.

“Savannah.” she replied. “Thank you, for finding Daisy.”

“Right, yes. Come on, let’s go inside.” he said, nodding towards the front door.

“Oh, I couldn’t - you already saved my dog, I couldn’t impose on you anymore.” she said, looking bashful. Steve shrugged.

“Might as well wait out the storm. Besides, I just made coffee.” he said. He pushed open the door before waiting for her response, holding it open for her until she followed him inside.

“I’ll get your floors wet.” she said apologetically. Again, he shrugged.

“No moreso than I will.” he replied. At the sound of their voices, the dogs came running from their place in front of the fire, Daisy practically launching herself into her mother’s arms. Savannah bent down, telling the dog how scared she was, how she needs to not run away from the house during storms, and how she’s lucky she found friends to help her. Roosevelt, jealous of all the attention, wiggled his way into her embrace. She greeted him happily, thanking him for taking care of her girl and complimenting how chivalrous he was. Steve couldn’t help but smile, going to the kitchen and pouring another cup of coffee. He paused before returning to the entryway, grabbing a zip up jacket. He handed both to her.

“Oh, are you sure?” she said, trying to hide her shivers. He waved her off.

“I own a washing machine, don’t worry about it.” he replied with a laugh. She nodded, slipping it on and unable to hide her relief at the warmth. She held the cup of coffee like a last source of life, her fingers covered by the sleeves of his jacket. He nodded towards the dining room table, situated with the massive windows around it.

“Wanna watch the storm?” he asked. He felt a little awkward, having someone in his house that wasn’t Sam or Bucky. But it felt nice too, making a new friend. Savannah nodded, settling into a chair and gazing out the window. Daisy came and curled up on her feet, finally settled now that Mom was back. Roosevelt, who usually stretched out on the couch, decided to come with his buddies, laying down between Steve and the other two. 

They sat and watched as the rain came down, turning everything to shades of grey. His plants were probably very happy, he realized. Perhaps this would be the extra push for them to really bloom. Conversation was light and casual, nothing serious as the storm went on. He hadn’t actually met one of his neighbors, which was apparently quite unusual in such a small town. He laughed at that, figuring he was on his way to being some urban legend. 

When the rain finally slowed and stopped, he bid goodbye to his neighbor, watching as they made their way across his back pasture towards their own home. Roosevelt looked a little sad that his new friend was leaving, and Steve patted his head encouragingly.

“Don’t worry, bud. It’s a small town. I’m sure we’ll run into them again eventually.” he said, unsure if he was really talking to the dog or to himself. With a sigh, he looked out at the green of the garden, and of the haphazardly moved chicken coop. With a smile, he went outside to go do everything on the chore list that was needed.

After all, farm life didn’t stop just because of a little rain.

[serenitysage89]

Twilight Fan Fiction - Ch. 2

CHAPTER 2

Finally, it was the end of July and moving day had arrived… everything was packed tightly into the shipping container and the moving company arrived bright and early at 8am to pick it up. There were a couple of remaining cartons that we put in the box of our pickup truck and off we went, on our first big family adventure into the unknown. My parents had high hopes, they always wanted the small-town life for themselves (and us), and now it was finally happening. I was beginning to feel anxious, even though I never liked Vancouver, it was all I had ever known – it was a bit unnerving leaving my “comfort zone”. But at least I was with my family and we would always have each other. We decided to drive to Forks, it wasn’t that far from where we lived in Vancouver, just across the other side of Vancouver Island. We made a few stops along the way for food and pee breaks, but all in all we made good time. We left Vancouver around 8.30am and we managed to arrive in Forks by 4.00pm. We pulled up to an older looking two-storey house on a corner lot, that had a neighbour on the left side, (but was still fairly far down the road) and a forest behind and on the right side - which my parents proudly announced would be our new home. The shipping container with all our stuff was already there and the movers were busy unloading it all into the house.

We got out of the vehicle, Liam and I each grabbed a box from the back of the pickup truck and walked to the front door expecting the worst. When we stepped inside, however, we were pleasantly surprised that it had been completely renovated with an updated, modern style. We walked up the stairs to check out the bedrooms, there were three of them, one being the master of course – it was the largest room, facing the back yard with an enormous, four-piece master bathroom and a California style walk in closet. The other rooms seemed fairly equally sized, with their own, (smaller) three-piece bathrooms and smaller walk-in closets. These rooms were facing the main street in front of our house. I told Liam that he could have first pick, to which he happily obliged. He chose the one on the right closest to the neighbours’ house, so I took the one on the left that was closer to the forest. It was kind of nice I guess; we each had our own bathroom and the rooms were a lot bigger than our old rooms. Slowly but surely our furniture and belonging made it to the proper rooms and we all got busy unpacking. At around 7pm, my parents called out to Liam and me – they wanted to go out for supper before it was too late. We hopped into the truck and drove to the town, to see what we could find. My mom spotted a small diner called “The Carver Café” which appeared to be open, so we decided to stop in and check it out. Walking into the diner was like a scene from a movie – everyone stopped what they were doing to look at us, for what seemed like an eternity – this was the kind of stuff I had nightmares about. I couldn’t have felt more awkward, but our parents just continued to usher us in, until we got to an empty table at the back of the café. Shortly after finding a seat, everyone else in the diner seemingly went back to normal.

A friendly looking waitress came to our table and said “you folks must not be from around here” sporting a big smile on her face. “No, we’re not” my dad answered smiling back. “We just moved here from Canada” my mother added. “Oh, Canada!” the waitress exclaimed! “We love Canadians here… don’t we?!” she yelled across the room. Everyone looked our way again, some held up their glass as if to “cheers” us and they all nodded in agreement. Then she turned back around and apologized quietly, she figured this way people wouldn’t be as curious about us, since tourists and newcomers to the town were very seldom. She then proceeded to take our orders and told us that she would be back with our food in a jiffy. Looking around the diner, there were still plenty of curious glances coming our way - the majority of customers looked to be a bit older and seemingly had not seen many biracial families I thought. We talked quietly among ourselves until the food arrived, then we couldn’t help but dig in. We hadn’t eaten much since earlier that day, so we were all quite hungry. The food was delicious and had a home cooked meal type feel to it. When we were finished, our waitress came back and asked if any of us wanted some pie for dessert, but we were all way too stuffed to have anything else. “Just the bill, please” my dad said, which the waitress brought back promptly. She said “Well it was lovely to meet you folks, hope to see y’all again soon”. We thanked her for her hospitality and asked her to pass our compliments on to the chef. As we walked to the front counter to pay, we still encountered many stares… they didn’t seem mean or angry, just rather curious. My dad paid the girl at the counter and made sure to leave a good tip for the service, then we left.

Back at our new house, we continued unpacking and helped one another set up our beds, so we would have somewhere to sleep. At 11pm, I decided to call it a night. That night I had an odd dream, nothing like any dream I ever had before. I dreamt that I was walking through a beautiful forest, when suddenly I came across a wolf. But this was no ordinary wolf… it was much larger than a normal wolf and it just stood there looking at me. I approached it slowly, why, I do not know… Everything inside me screamed to run away, but somehow, I was drawn to it. The wolf didn’t move an inch and I kept walking towards it while trying to avoid direct eye contact, as I didn’t want to anger or spook it. I got within inches of it and reached out my hand to touch it when suddenly… I woke up.

I looked at my phone, it was just after 8am, but it looked grey and cloudy outside. I got up, got dressed and followed the alluring smell of coffee and bacon down the stairs, to the kitchen, where my mom was already busy making breakfast. I looked through the cupboards to get myself oriented and finally found what I was looking for - the mugs. I grabbed one, filled it with coffee and sat down on a bar stool at the island where my mom was cooking. “Good morning, sunshine” she quipped, “good morning” I replied groggy and still feeling tired. “How was your sleep?” she asked. “It was alright” I said, trying to muster up a smile. “It will get better, it’s a new environment for you guys, so it will take some adjustment” she declared in her usual funny little Filipino accent. “I know, mom” I acknowledged. We continued to make small talk while she was cooking, but it wasn’t long before my dad and brother got up and joined us for breakfast. My parents revealed another surprise at this point. They wanted to get us each our own car for being such troopers and moving away from everything we knew. Liam couldn’t contain his excitement “Are you serious?!” he exclaimed – his eyes shot wide open. “Yes, we are. You kids are turning 16 soon and you have proven that you are both responsible, young adults now. There is a small car dealership on the edge of town; I figure we can go take a look there later today” my dad said. I hadn’t seen Liam this excited in a while, it was nice to see him so happy. Me, on the other hand, I wasn’t sure how to feel… I didn’t know if I needed or even wanted a car, I much preferred walking or taking a bike.

We drove to the edge of town later that day, to check out the car dealership my dad was talking about. As my family was browsing the used cars on the lot, my eyes were drawn to the motorcycles on the other side of the lot. I knew my parents would never allow it, but I decided to wander off to have a gander anyway. As I was walking, there was one bike in particular that caught my attention. It was a jet black, Kawasaki Ninja – definitely one of my favourites. I got up close and personal, circling the bike and inspecting every detail of it. Suddenly, a voice right behind me enquired, “can I help you with anything?” I had been so caught up in my own thoughts, that I didn’t even notice someone had been there, for who knows how long. Startled and embarrassed, I quickly turned around and said, “Oh, no, I’m sorry, I was just looking”. The boy behind me couldn’t have been much older than me. He was tanned, with long black hair (dare I say it… almost the same length as mine and the most radiant white smile I had ever seen. “No need to apologize” he said, “you are free to look as much as you like”. At this point I knew I was blushing; I could feel my cheeks burning up and I quickly turned my gaze towards the ground realizing that I had been staring at him for quite a while… “You are not from around here” he implored.

I shook my head. “No” I replied softly, eyes still glued to the floor. “Did you lose something?” he asked, sounding puzzled while scouring the floor. “Ummm… no, sorry” I said looking back up at him. “You sure like to apologize” he quipped light heartedly, “you really don’t need to. Where are you from?” he asked. “Vancouver… Canada” I answered. “Oh cool! I have never been; but I hear it’s quite nice” he said. “Yeah, it’s alright”, I responded trying to sound enthusiastic. “How long are you in town for?” he continued. “We just moved here actually” I responded. “Really? That’s cool, do you know anyone around here?” he probed. “No, just my family over there” I said while turning around to point at them. That is when I realized they weren’t even looking at cars anymore, they were all watching my interaction with this boy instead. “They seem nice!” He said smiling and waving to my family, as they waved back excitedly. Boy: “Well, if you want, I could show you around town sometime?”

Me: “Yeah, definitely, that would be really great”.

Boy: “How can I get a hold of you? Do you have Facebook?”

Me: “Umm no, I don’t have any social media unfortunately… “

Boy: “That’s OK, we will just have to do this the old-fashioned way then, do you have a phone number?”

Me: “Yeah, it’s a Canadian number, but I will be switching it over soon.”

Boy pulls out his phone, “That’s alright… well let’s start with your name…”

Me: “Serenity, S-E-R-E-N-I-T-Y”

Boy looks up at me and says, “That is a really beautiful name”.

Me: “Thank you” I whispered quietly. “And my number is 1-604-283-8031”.

At this point, he hits the call button on his phone and my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out and he says “now you have my number too. I am Jacob by the way.” He holds out his hand to shake mine and I reciprocate.” Well, I better get back over there, but I look forward to you showing me around”.

Jacob: “Me too, I will be seeing you soon”.

I walked back to my family, trying to contain my excitement about the interaction I just had with Jacob.

It appeared that my brother had some exciting news of his own… he had found a car that he liked; a Chevy Equinox that he was going to take for a quick test drive. He asked my mom and I if we wanted to come along, but I shook my head “no” while grabbing my mom’s arm to drag her for a girl talk, leaving my dad and brother to go for their test drive with the salesman. My mom immediately started peppering me with questions, “Who was that? What’s his name? How old is he? What did you talk about?... I told her what I knew so far at this point, which evidently wasn’t much, just his name really and that he promised to show me around town some time. I couldn’t help but realize that this may actually have been the longest conversation I’ve ever had with someone outside of my family in a very long time… and it was with a handsome boy to boot. Maybe my brothers’ theory wasn’t so crazy after all… Did the clothes I was wearing today make me seem more approachable? I felt like this would never have happened in my old wardrobe.

My mom and I decided to sit on a nearby bench to wait for my dad and Liam to return from the test drive, both of us giddy with excitement about what had just transpired. She asked me what my plan was moving forward; if I was going to text Jacob first etc. and I started to feel slightly overwhelmed. I had no idea what the next step would be or if I should be the first to contact him. We decided that this might be a better question for someone more experienced… which in this case was none other than my brother, Liam. My brother, my dad and the salesman returned about ten minutes later and it looked as though Liam was quite pleased with the test drive. His grin extended from one ear to the other as he exited the car. The salesman took the keys and headed back inside the dealership. My mom and I joined Liam and Dad to see what the verdict was. “Looks like we are buying a car today” My dad said satisfied. “You and I will need to sign some paperwork inside, mein schatz1 ” he continued as he put his arm around my mom and lead her toward the dealership.

After my parents left, I finally had a chance to ask Liam about what I should do; but before I could even say anything, Liam started “So, who was that guy you were talking to?” … “Jacob” I said. “I think he works here. He just asked if he could help me with anything, while I was browsing the motorcycle section”. “What’s he like? Did he seem nice?” my brother prodded. “Yeah, I think so… I told him we just moved here, and he said that he would show me around town sometime”. “Like a date?” my brother asked seeming almost concerned. “I don’t think so… I think he is just trying to be friendly” I replied. “So, what do you think I should do? Should I text him first or should I wait for him to text me? I asked coyly. “Well, that depends…” my brother said, do you want to play “the game” and chance ruining any possibility of a friendship or relationship moving forward OR do you want to start a friendship with this guy based on honesty and openness from the get-go?!” “No games, drama or BS” I replied quickly and confidently. “Then, message him first”, my brother said… maybe later tonight or tomorrow morning, to see when he’s free to show you around town. “O.K, that sounds great! I will text him sometime tomorrow morning” I said. I gave Liam a hug and thanked him for his guidance. “Anything for you, little sis” he said grinning.

Our parents emerged from the dealership smiling. They shook the salesman’s hand and walked back towards us. “Well, we may have just made our first friends in Forks” my dad announced proudly. “Turns out that the boy you were talking to earlier is the son of our salesman, Billy, and he has invited all of us down to the reservation for a fish fry this weekend”.  

Liam was allowed to drive his new car off the lot, and I drove with him as my parents wanted to go to town for some groceries for supper. We arrived at home and Liam got busy updating his social media with pictures of his new car.

At supper, my dad had a moment of realization. He turned to me and said, “In all the excitement today with finding Liam a car, I forgot to ask if any cars on the lot caught your eye?” I responded that I didn’t really have a good chance to look, but that I wasn’t picky and would settle for anything that would be capable of getting me from point A to B. My parents smiled at me, then each other, knowing that they had raised their “little” girl into a responsible and practical young woman that was not too concerned with material things.

“Ok, well maybe we can talk to Billy this weekend, to see if he has something for you as well.” My dad said relieved.

 Special Notes:

*1. Mein Schatz = German for “My Treasure”

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Stay tuned for Chapter 3 (Already in the works)...

Serenity and her family go to the “fish fry” on the reservation where Serenity and Jacob learn more about one another. But... there are some unexpected news involving her brother Liam... 

[justmenoworries]

A small Act of Kindness

I absolutely love @caretaker-au and everything in it and so I decided to write a little fic for it.

Feel free to give constructive criticism and enjoy!

Silent as a shadow, Chara slipped out of the, quite literally king-sized bed, feet sinking into the carpet below.

It was still very early in the morning, yet for some reason the caretaker of the ruins found themselves unable to sleep. There was a restlessness in them, a burning sensation that there was something...different. That feeling had come up in the past before. And it could only mean one thing.

Taking great care to not wake up the big, snoring, furry bundle still comfortably snuggled in the bed-sheets, Chara took their undergarments, robe, sash and necklace form the nearby chair and began to dress. The magic spells in the clothing that kept dirt and stench away from the wearer had been a gift from Toriel and a very thoughtful one at that.

As the future ruler of mankind, Chara often found themselves way to busy even to keep up with their body hygiene. They stepped in front of a small mirror on the wall and pulled their hair up into a short but tidy ponytail.  Then they adjusted the leather scabbard on their leg and slid their knife into it.

The weapon made a slight ‘shing’ as it slid into the hold, prompting a protesting groan from the bed.

“Chara?”

Chara bit their lip in frustration. They had hoped to sneak away and only come back when the deed was done.

“Where are you going?”

“Just a small morning stroll through the ruins, do not worry. I will be back for lunch.”

“Want me to come with you?”

Chara flinched. Blood, Dust. All over them. That cursed child staring like a buffoon, gloves still white from dust, his dust...

“I do not. Go back to sleep.”

“Kay...”

Without looking back, Chara quickly exited the room, the heart locket bouncing off their chest.

The ruins were a quiet place since Chara had installed the gate at the edge of Snowdin Forest and reactivated the traps. Quite understandably no one had wanted to keep living in a place where deadly spikes were sprouting from the ground at every corner.

That was just as well.

More room for maneuver, lesser chances of things going... wrong.

With long, determined strides, Chara made their way through the old halls, navigating through each of puzzles with the ease of someone who had spent countless resets in memorizing each wrong step. One, perhaps the only painful necessity in their... renovation of this place.

Shortly before they arrived at the clearing, Chara stopped and took a deep breath. The old, familiar feeling of pure determination flowed through them. Burning, hotter and hotter, until they felt like their very eyes had caught on flame. As quickly as the sensation came, it was over. As soon as that was finished, they checked the hidden knife under their robe one last time. It was still there and waiting, anxious to bring monsterkind yet another human soul, yet another step closer to freedom.

A SAVE had been made. All preparations were done. They were ready.

Chara put on their best friendly-caretaker smile and walked out into the clearing.

The child was sitting on the ground, right underneath the ray of sunlight that fell through the cave on the surface, a frying pan clutched on one hand.

It appeared they had awakened just now, Chara noted. And the fall didn’t seem to have killed or incapacitated them. A pity.

Chara politely cleared their throat to get the child’s attention. Their head whipped around and just as Chara was about to give their usual speech, they spoke:

“Oh! Heya! Didn’t see you there. Did you fall down too? What’s your name? Are there others? What is this place? And why-”

During their seemingly endless tirade of questions, the child had jumped up and bounced toward the slightly nonplussed caretaker, waving their pan around like it was a toy.

Chara blinked and attempted to speak, but the child’s mouth seemed to be on autopilot. They rambled away, eyes big and shining with genuine curiosity.

Chara decided to wait until they calmed down and use the time to analyze their new prey.

The child seemed to be about fourteen, with green eyes, curly half-long brown hair and light-brown skin. Their attire seemed to consist of a battered t-shirt and bermuda shorts, though it was a little hard to tell, because of the light-pink, faded apron covering almost their entire body.

They didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons, other than potentially the frying pan. Chara made a mental note to try and take it from them later on, just to be sure.

The child beamed at them expectantly and Chara realized they had finally stopped talking and were expecting an answer.

“Quite the talkative one, are you?” they smiled, trying hard to keep the annoyance out of their voice. “Well, first things first: My name is Chara. I am the caretaker of these ruins and I pass through here every day, to see if anyone has fallen down. You were lucky to survive that fall, child.”

“I know!” they said, grinning excitedly. “I thought I was a goner for sure when the ground gave way! Lucky me!”

Chara briefly wondered if they should just drop the facade and stab the child right here and now.

“Indeed,” they answered instead, neither face nor voice betraying the morbid thought process taking place behind their benevolent eyes. “Now come child. I will guide you through here to the best of my ability.”

The child’s eyes widened with wonder. “Guide me? Where to? Your home? Do you live here? All alone? Don’t you get lonely? Where did you get that heart locket from? It’s so pretty! Can I get one too?”

Chara suppressed a long sigh and simply turned around, making their way to the first puzzle. If all went according to plan, they would soon be able to enjoy the ruins’ silence again.

It was ludicrous.

If Chara had in any way believed in a higher power, they would have found it entirely possible that it was smiling on that dratted child today.

They had figured out the first puzzle completely without Charas’ help, instantly catching on to the connection between the room before and navigating through the spikes with such utter playfulness that Chara found themselves tempted to simply walk over and push them onto a trap plate.

But if they were to miss, the child would undoubtedly catch on and run. Better to avoid that.

The second puzzle didn’t fare much better. As it turned out, the little cheating brat had actually stuffed a handful of rocks into the small pocket on their apron, which they proceeded to use to rat out the unstable tiles.

Chara swore the headache that started to develop behind their temples was getting worse, every time they heard the tell-tale ‘crack!’ of a trap-tile only to find out that the child once again hadn’t fallen with it.

For a second Chara allowed themselves the vain hope that the child would run out of pebbles and finally misstep, but the sound of two small feet hitting solid ground made short work of that dream as well.

Chara forced themselves to flash a pleased smile.

“Wonderful! And on the first try! You are a very clever child indeed.”

The little vermin actually chuckled at that.

“Nah, not really. I was just lucky to have my rock collection with me, that’s all.”

Chara chose to not comment on that and hopped over the tiles. They found the child staring sadly at the partly broken floor in front of them.

“Man, it’s a shame. I really liked some of those rocks.”

“You will find newer, better ones here,” Chara said comfortingly. Your tomb stone, for example.

“You think?” the child beamed. “Now that you mention it, I bet there’s all sorts of cool rock down here! I bet if I get really small ones, I can even fit enough in my pocket to bring some for the guys at the orphanage! They’re gonna be so surprised! I bet they’ll all want to fall down a hole after that, haha.”

Chara shut the child’s voice out and thought. All the lethal puzzles lay behind them. Ahead of them were only a few of the harmless switch and button variety.

Should they reload and arrange for an accident to break the child’s lucky streak? No. Too many things that could go wrong. The child could experience deja vù and start asking uncomfortable questions. Better not to risk it.

Perhaps the deed could be completed at Home? Chara mentally called up the contents of their kitchen cabinet. There should have been at least a bottle of highly concentrated buttercup-liquid left.

A few drops of that on a slice of left-over butterscotch-cinnamon pie...

It wasn’t ideal, but it was a plan at least. No matter how lucky, even this child would have to submit to poisoned food.

Yes.

The soul would be collected.

And if the child was a fast eater, Chara would even make it to lunch in New Home on time, just like they had promised.

Their mood having improved significantly, Chara fastened their pace.

“Come now child, we are nearly home.”

The door to the small house opened with a quiet ‘click’.

Chara softly pushed it open and motioned for the child to enter.

They bounced into the living room energetically, mouth wide open in wonder at the ginormous furniture.

“You must be hungry child. Please, take a seat on that table on the room to the left. I will make you a little something, for reaching the end.”

They turned to walk to the kitchen, when they felt a small hand on their arm.

“Wait! I can make us something!”

Chara flinched inwardly at the child’s touch.

“T-That will not be necessary, you must be tired-”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine! I’m a great cook. Besides, if it weren’t for you, I probably would have gotten lost down here, or something!,” the child swung the frying pan over their shoulder and confidently strode towards the direction they supposed the kitchen was. “Just sit back and relax! I make killer pancakes!”

Slightly bedazzled, the caretaker dragged themselves into the living room and plopped into one of the chairs. Once again, the child had escaped fate, without even realizing it.

Their head was buzzing. The child had no weapon and no intent to harm. They probably didn’t even know how to fight. And judging by the clattering coming from the kitchen, they were well distracted by now.

They would never get a better chance.

Chara slowly reached for their holster, their hand closing tightly around the knifes’ handle. It answered to their light tugging immediately, sliding out without making a sound, blade almost free of it’s leathery bed-

“Dinner’s ready!”

Chara froze.

The child had returned from the kitchen, carrying a plate towered with pancakes, all of which dwarfed them with their size.

With a proud grin, they  placed the meal on the table.

Chara realized with a mixture of interest and delight that the child had left behind their frying pan.

Realizing the child’s expectant look, Chara gave them a smile and nodded gratefully, using their free hand to take one of he pancakes.

The child hadn’t been exasperating, when they had talked about the quality of their pancakes, Chara silently admitted to themselves begrudgingly. The pastry was soft, sweet and fluffy, not one part of it was burned.

“This is excellently made,” they said, giving the child a smile. “You simply must give me the recipe.”

The child didn’t answer. Something about their smile seemed.... sad and tired all of a sudden.

“It’s okay,” they said. “You don’t have to keep pretending you like me.”

A sudden silence filled the room.

Thousands of sweet lies to tell the child whirled through Chara’s head, none of them really convincing.

All the while the child was sitting there, the sad smile never leaving their face.

Chara thought for a second. Then they sighed.

“Well, I suppose there is nothing to gain from keeping up the mask.” they said. They kept their eyes on the child, while slowly pulling the knife out of it’s sheath fully. “Though answer me this, human: what was it that gave me away?”

The human shrugged, their smile turning sheepish. “Nothing in particular, to be honest. It’s just, your smile. The kids at the orphanage had that too. That smile that says: ‘I don’t really wanna talk to you’.”

They met Charas eyes. “I’m really happy you decided to stick with me and cheer me up and all that. Not even the adults back there did.”

Chara felt their grip on the knife grow tighter with every word the human spoke.

“Do not thank me, child,” they spat. “I did none of that for your sake.”

“I know. I’m still grateful.” The child quietly stared at the table for a while, before they talked again. “I’m going to die now, aren’t I?”

Chara stood up, knife firmly laying in their hand.

“Yes. You will perish here and your soul will be taken.”

The child took a deep breath, then looked up again. Their gaze was steady when they met Chara’s eyes.

“Okay.”

Chara raised their eyebrows.

“Will you not...try to run?”

They shook their head, smiling sadly.

“Where to? I don’t know this place. Besides, you’re doing this for a reason, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Thought so. You know, I think you’re a good person Chara. I hope you succeed in whatever you need my soul for.”

The human gripped their apron tightly and closed their eyes.

“I’m ready.”

The body weighed heavily on Chara’s shoulder as the walked trough the castle’s long halls.

Blood still trickled through some parts of the bandages, but Chara dared not readjust them, for fear of dropping the small, green soul they cradled in their other hand.

They would have to change before lunch.

Swiftly they walked down the stairs to the coffin room, where a new coffin had already been prepared at their request.

The king and queen insisted on this pointless endeavor.

‘Honoring their sacrifice’ they called it.

Perverse sentimentality, thought Chara.

Huffing, they pushed the coffin’s lid open with their foot and let the human’s corpse fall inside.

For a moment they just stood there, looking down on the lifeless bundle.

This human, at least, had been sensible enough to accept the inevitable.

“You know, I think you’re a good person Chara.”

Chara snorted.

Humans.

So quick to come to assumptions.

With an air of finality, they closed the coffin and began to climb up the stairs.

There was still much to do.

They had no time to waste thoughts on the dead.

[imagine-loki]

The Sound of Silence

TITLE: The Sound of Silence CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 43/47 AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are mute, and Loki comes to Avengers tower for the first time. Loki asks you a question and you answer through sign language. Loki looks at you crazy and thinks your making fun of him, he starts yelling saying that you should respect him since he’s a god and prince.  RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 Click here

    You had meant to stay out of trouble, really, you had.

    [How long will the workmen be here?] you asked Tony after Thor had left.

    “Two days,” he replied and handed you a box. You nodded and stood on your toes to kiss Loki’s cheek before you headed back upstairs to throw some clothes and stuff you didn’t want to get hurt by the workmen. There wasn’t a lot you needed for just a couple of days, so the task didn’t take very long. You grinned when you walked across the hall and saw that Loki had left one of his dresser drawers open and completely empty. He’d emptied it out for you. Thoughtful husband. You put the clothes away and set Lokibear safely on top of the dresser with the bear you’d given him, and then went to return to your activity of reading on the couch in the living room with your Loki.

    *

    “Kid, can you go help Bruce in the lab?” Tony asked later that afternoon. You looked up at him confused as you shut your book.

    [I know nothing about the lab] you reminded him.

    “Bruce will walk you through whatever it is he needs,” Tony added. You shrugged and shut your book, wondering what he was up to. You started to take Loki’s hand to bring him with you, but Tony and Cap wanted him to stay. Ah, that was probably whatever this was about. So you headed down to the lab to see what bullshit excuse Bruce had come up with for you being there.

    “Hey, Y/N,” Bruce said when he let you into the locked lab.

    [What’s going on?] you asked when you stepped inside.

    “Cap and Tony want us out of the way when the workers arrive,” he explained. “The Hulk doesn’t like intruders in his house and the press doesn’t know you’ve lost your powers so the team doesn’t want to take any chances with your safety. So you’re stuck down here with me until the main floor is clear of strangers,”

    You huffed and rolled your eyes. This seemed like awful planning. Bruce smiled. “I really could use a hand, though, if you’re up to it?” You nodded and dove into helping him with whatever experiment he was working on. It wasn’t bad work, but definitely not your cup of tea when you didn’t understand a thing that was going on.

    “Doctor Banner, Mr. Stark wished for me to inform you that the main floor of the tower is clear. The workers are currently working on Miss Y/N’s room,”

    “Thank you, Jarvis,” Bruce told the AI. He turned to you. “You’re free to go, Y/N,” he told you with a small smile. He had a soft spot for you since the Hulk liked you so much. You stuck your tongue out at him, but nodded and left the lab to get to more enjoyable activities. You thought kicking Loki’s ass at video games sounded much more enjoyable.

    “What did Doctor Banner need?” Loki asked too innocently when you returned to the living room.

    [Like you don’t know that we were chucked into the lab for safety] you told him. He gave you an innocent look.

    “My lady wounds me with her words,”

    “Drop the innocent act, loverboy, like you weren’t intimidating every worker who passed through here and pleased as all getout that Y/N was safely away from where they’d be,” Nat replied. You grinned at her and offered her a controller. “Thanks, but Clint and I have to go out for a little bit. Keep your husband from killing the workers, ok?” You nodded and passed Loki a controller so you could play video games with him.

    *

    You were already yawning your way through dinner and kissed Loki’s cheek once you had finished eating. [I’m for bed. Healing Asgardians are sleepy creatures] He chuckled and stood. [There is no way you’re tired] you reminded him, perfectly capable of walking to bed alone.

    “There are strangers in the tower. I’m walking you to bed,” he told you firmly. You huffed at your silly overprotective husband, but wouldn’t argue with him on this point. You’d been abducted from under his nose once for your powers. That threat was still very much at the front of his mind, even when you didn’t have your powers anymore. The public didn’t know that, so the bad guys wouldn’t know your powers were gone either.

    So you let him walk you back upstairs to his room. You didn’t really think anything of it, or the noises of the workers from your room, until one of them walked out of your room to get something from the supplies in the hall, stepping directly in front of the pair of you. Loki snarled, shoved you behind him and summoned two daggers all in one move.

    “Oh shit,” the worker said and did probably the smartest thing he would do and raised his hand in surrender, dropping whatever it was he had come out here for. “Mr. Loki,” he said too politely, but didn’t dare move further. The god was enraged by this man’s very presence. And Loki still saw him as a threat, specifically to your safety. You grabbed Loki’s arm, felt his muscles bunch to lunge at the man. You weren’t physically stronger than him and without your powers you couldn’t keep him from killing the man just for being a stranger and existing in your hallway. Shitshitshit. Nor could you call for help. He was too blinded by rage and fear for you to let you talk him down from it either.

    You wished more than anything that you were out of this hallway. You wrapped your arms firmly around Loki’s arm and planted your feet, drawing a second while you prayed for some inspiration on how to fix this. For some reason, you thought of Worthington the bear. He wasn’t useful here. But could magic be? No, that was ridiculous. You’d used magic once and barely had an idea of how it worked. And yet. You needed to get Loki out of here.

    Now.

    So you concentrated, feeling for the same power that had summoned the bear and wished more than anything to be safely back down in the living room, imagining the living room in all it’s detail, and especially your couch. The air around you shimmered and you swayed, falling into Loki as he whirled to catch you. “Y/N!’ he exclaimed, dropping the daggers to hold you on your feet. You were in the living room standing in front of your couch.

    “What’s going on?” Cap demanded as he and the others rushed over. “You said you were taking her to bed,”

    Loki helped you sit on the couch. “Foolish love, that is way too big of a magic for someone just learning,” he told you, but his voice was kind and proud and he kissed you.

    You snapped to get Jarvis’ attention and signed quickly, letting Jarvis translate your words for the others. “A worker came out into the hall,” it was still strange hearing Jarvis speak your signs. “Loki nearly stabbed him, so I brought us back down here,”

    “Tattletale,” Loki told you warmly, and kissed your forehead. “Lie down, dearest. That was way too large of a magic for just your second time using Asgardian magic.” You looked up at him stupidly. He sighed and laid you down on the couch before you fell over, dizzy and giddy from using magic. Power still seemed to shimmer around you and you fought not to giggle at the feeling. “Breathe,” he told you gently, kindly, you could hear the hint of amusement.

    “Of course, overprotective Asgardians,” Nat sighed. Apparently she had come home from whatever mission she had been on. “We’re dumb and should have known that with your wife injured and without her…original powers you’d be…antsy… about her safety.” The rest of the team agreed that they’d been dumb and looked relieved that all of the workers were still alive.

    “What’s wrong with the kid?” Tony asked instead of admitting that letting workers on the floor of the tower with the dangerous god and his wife was probably not the wisest decision ever.

    “She has gotten Asgardian magic since she became Asgardian,” Loki explained as he brushed your hair back away from your face. “And has used her powers all of once since we found out she has magic. Teleporting two people is a large spell, especially for a novice, and she is… high? is the proper term? from drawing too much power. She’ll be alright in a minute,” Loki explained. “Stop that,” he scolded you lightly when he caught you raising your hand to watch the power swirl as you moved your hand. His voice was amused, though.

    “Maybe we should come up with different sleeping arrangements until the workers are done with your apartment,” Cap suggested, looking to Tony. This was his tower and arrangements were his jurisdiction.

    Tony was pulling up a screen. “Wish we could just chuck you two into a hotel until the renovations were done,” he grumbled.

    “I see no problems with that,” Loki replied with a mischievous smirk.

    Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Your brother grounded you, remember? So we have to put up with the angry god trying to kill the workers until he gets back from his pleasure jaunt to Asgard.” You all knew that Thor was working while he was gone and not at all enjoying his discussions with Odin.

    Nat scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Morons, the lot of you. Loki, just steal Thor’s room until the renovations are done. He’s off world and not using it and his room is two floors up from yours, so you won’t see the workers and they’ll have no access to that floor, so Y/N will be safe,”

    Loki smiled at her. “Excellent idea, Lady Natasha,” he told her warmly, earning a surprised look from everyone. He scooped you up into his arms. “Come on, love, you need to rest.” The air shimmered around you again and you reappeared in Thor’s room.

    [Thor won’t mind?] you asked, exhausted now that you were coming down from your high. Loki tucked you safely in Thor’s bed and it was a chore to keep your eyes open.

    “No, dearest, he won’t, not at all. Now get some rest, that was an awful lot of magic you used. I promise I won’t kill the workers as long as you are safe, my love,”

    You reached up and touched his cheek. /I love you/ you managed to tell him mind-to-mind, though you didn’t know how you knew how to do it.

    He smiled brightly, but with tears of joy in his eyes. He leaned down to kiss you and couldn’t keep the joy and excitement from his lips on your either. “I love you more than anything. Oh how I’ve missed your voice, my darling,” you smiled at his obvious and infectious joy. “But that is quite enough magic out of you today, dearest. I’ll start teaching you properly tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead and you finally closed your eyes to get some much needed rest.

[thatfilmduderyan]

Death Studios: My studio space.

For a long time I’ve wanted to do a blogpost about my studio but it’s never materialised (mostly due to always being distracted by other more pressing matters in the world of work). That is until now. 

Death Studios began life in September 2016 when I came back from working on the All Fucked Up video for The Amity Affliction. From time to time a mutual friend of mine worked from a coffee shop I often frequented, and she turned up one day and said that off the back of brexit she felt a need to find “a new place to work from to change things up”. Immediately I got on board with the idea as I’d never found the perfect spot to set up a studio before. Previously I’d been accepted at a number of innovation centres but the problem was that they were often far too ‘office like’ for me. I probably could have moved into a studio space about 5 years ago but I’m someone that operates strongly off the back of their gut feelings. Nothing every felt right for me until I walked into this place.

The entire building was up for grabs and 3 of us ended up coming together with the same goal. The other 2 people were more ‘desk based’ (a graphic designer and an illustrator) and therefore they needed a lot less space than me, so they ended up taking the floor above and turned it into a shared desk studio. But I needed shelf spaces, work tops, storage areas and a host of other features, so this room had massive potential. There were a few structural changes required that included an overhaul of electrics, the recovering of all surface woodwork, new windows with an advanced security system, a couple stud walls, a new wooden floor and finally the painting of the entire place. My dad was a huge part of the work that went into this place and he came up with the idea to drop the strip lights from the ceiling and hang them by chains (which I loved so much). There were a lot of late nights spent working on the space as well as continuing to run other video/film projects. I have fond memories of my brother and me painting the walls and laughing until I sides hurt at old stories of us growing up. Originally I had wanted to keep things minimal but I soon realised this was near impossible with everything I had. I actually suffer with OCD, so once I’d made peace with the layout I began arranging things as I saw fit. A large part of inspiration for the room came from Casey Neistat’s studio (his youtube blog linked below but click his name for a studio tour) and various other interiors outlets like Rocket St George (some bulbs and the coat rack near the front door are from that store). 

The main aim for the studio space was for me to have a private working environment where I could do a number of things. The layout is setup for meetings, post-production work, pre-production work, team sessions, equipment storage/maintenance and physical product distribution. I actually want to create and release things that all get made and distributed from the studio at some point but I’ve yet to do this (it’s in the works though). The layout of the work surfaces means I can move to different points of the room depending on my mood. It sounds kinda crazy but my mood really does affect this and I’ve used pretty much all the different positions for different pieces of work. During the winter I often like to sit in the position picture 3 showcases. Picture 2 is often utilised for packing cases and the layout of the room means I can pretty much pack for any job within a 30 minute period. I have a large wall (not pictured) behind where picture 4 is taken but this is covered in post-it notes relating to the projects I’ve currently got going on so I can’t show it due to privacy requirements/NDAs I’ve signed. Originally the wall was covered with framed posters from various releases I’ve directed, but I felt like it wasn’t being used properly so these were taken down in favour of a wall where I could stick post it notes (this was partly inspired by the character Nathan in Ex-Machina, and the scene where we see a wall of post-it notes behind his work computer). There are a couple angles of the room I’ve not included due to me wanting to keep the location largely hidden, but there is also a tea and coffee area which has a picture of the Defeater boys hanging over it haha (thanks to my friend Josie Hoffman for that gift). The space can house about 4 people when working from computers but I’ve held a production meeting for a film here with about 12 people present.

The strip light you see above the shelves in picture 4 has a strange tale behind it. My parents bought an old derelict newspaper shop to setup their business in and during the renovations they found an old light that sat on top of a cigarette counter. The light sat in the loft of their business for years and as we approached the completion of the studio build my dad said “do you want that old cigarette counter light in here?” and I said “hell yes I do”. My plan was to have it on the floor previously and replace the old branded perspex front with my own custom one. I ended up going with a phrase that has stuck with me for years which is ‘fear mediocrity’. Mediocrity is of the the biggest threats to inspired and original art. Mediocrity is also a very big seller and it functions as the facilitating ground for many people looking to make money from creativity (it’s easy to accept and often doesn’t challenge the status quo). This is something I’ve always felt has to be avoided to achieve greatness in your work; so what better place to illuminate it than above my head every day. Either side of the phrase are a couple of aliens from the John Carpenter film ‘They Live’ who in the story are trying to capture and brainwash the earth. The strangest part of this light was that when we came to the installation it went perfectly into the gap above the shelf... there was no space either side of it to shift. It was a spooky moment because it honestly felt like that light was meant to be in that spot. If you look closely at the picture of it you’ll see a steel conduit right next to it with no space... this was fitted before the light went in, let alone was in the same building. 

The studio has become an integral part of my work routine and allows me to disconnect from whatever I need to and concentrate on the job at hand. This place was at the centre of all of the projects I’ve helmed over the last 2.5 years. Due to the nature of how I work and the routine I have I unfortunately can’t accept work experience placements, but Crashburn does accept them on shoots. My creative routine has become extremely private since moving into this space and I realised that I want to keep it that way moving forward into future projects. I’m currently writing my first feature film (off the back of a recently produced short) which is bringing new challenges but never the less is being aided by this custom made space. I really recommend people in the creative industries finding their own studio space and making it truly ‘them’. It’s a tall order to find a spot you feel comfortable in but ultimately if you don’t feel good your workflow will be heavily disrupted. My advice to would-be studio designers is.... don’t rush. Find what works and make it yours. That is the very crux of what Death Studios is for me. I think the most gratifying thing about owning a spot like this is that it has come from a place within myself. In filmmaking you’re often surrounded by many different types of people and eventually you end up realising that everyone is different and everyone has their own idea of what filmmaking is. The journey is never the same twice. I’ve always wanted to be independent and able to do whatever I want, however I want, and finally this studio is a step in that direction (just think along the lines of Neil Blomkamp’s ‘Oats Studios’). I’m here to create the films I feel need to be made while developing myself further as a feature film director. In this process there’s a wonderful gap to facilitate anyone who wants to collaborate and make great things. The process is natural, nurturing and it makes me feel strong. All parts fit together. Long live Death Studios. 

Rx

Links!

Casey Neistat Youtube Page

Casey Neistat Studio tour via Marcus Brownlee

Rocket St George

Ex-Machina ‘Post-it note’ scene

They Live movie