#like i know the whole line was a spur of a moment but.. it speaks so much truth honestly

[the-kipsabian]

man...

“underrated and over it” speaks so much volume to me right now

[heich0e]

you're almost giddy as you run your hands underneath the stream of cool water rushing from the sink's tap, an effervescence fizzling in the pit of your stomach as the sound of running water whooshes through your ears. you watch the soap suds circle the drain as your teeth bite down against the side of your cheek.

on the other side of the restroom door, you can hear the distant din of the restaurant creeping in, reminding you of where you are. the sound spurs you on and quickly, haphazardly, you shake whatever water is left clinging to the tips of your fingers away once the soap suds are gone—too eager to even bother with properly drying them. next, you fish your cellphone out from inside the little purse you'd brought with you that evening.

you tap the name at the top of your recent call log, and your roommate answers after two rings.

"date goin' so bad yer calling in the black ops squad for rescue? what's our story gonna be this ti—"

atsumu sounds entirely too pleased by the prospect of your date going badly, and it makes you all too happy to cut him off.

"it's going really well," you say, nearly breathless in your delight. it's been a while since you've been this... excited about a date. about a guy. "too well, actually."

"oh?" atsumu's voice lifts in surprise, but he doesn't say a whole lot else.

you hum affirmatively, reaching into your purse again to pull out a tube of lip gloss, pinning your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free up your hands to unscrew the lid. your eyes are fixed to the reflection of your mouth in the mirror as you swipe a thin coat across your lips. "i need a favour."

"'n what's that?" atsumu asks, his voice drying out into a monotone that indicates his distinct lack of trust.

"can you go in my room and shove any mess i left out into my closet?" you ask him before rubbing your lips together to evenly coat them in their lacquered shine.

atsumu guffaws from the other line. "'m i yer maid?"

"a second ago you were ready to go full boots on the ground as the black ops squad," you chide him. there's a moment of silence that passes in the restaurant bathroom, you can't even hear him breathing from the other line. finally, you speak again—softer this time, more sincere. "please, tsumu. i really like him."

he clicks his tongue behind his teeth in that admonishing way you hate, but there's a certain concession in the sound. "yer doing my laundry for a week."

"if the rest of the night goes as well as dinner, i'll do it for a month," you laugh, your cheeks pinching with how widely you smile.

"when are ya landin' here?"

"probably in like... an hour? we're just gonna have another drink or two." he grunts in recognition, even if he doesn't seem thrilled about it. "thanks, 'tsumie. i owe you one."

"ya owe me at least four," he grumbles. "try 'n keep it down once ya come stumblin' in all handsy and whatever, will ya? i don't need to hear all that."

"promise, promise!" you singsong. "you're the best."

"whatever," he answers with a stiff laugh, ending the call soon after.

you quickly tuck your phone back into your purse, adjust yourself one last time in the mirror, and then slip back out into the restaurant towards your waiting date.

the rest of your evening passes much the same as the rest had already unfolded—though something between you and the young man seems to shift as time goes on, turns more palpably yearning. it's no surprise that when you ask him if he'd like to come back to your place with you, he quickly agrees.

"is your roommate home?" atsushi—who you'd met at a work event a few weeks prior, and had been talking to ever since—asks quietly as you two step through the door of your higashiosaka apartment. he's pressed close to you in the genkan, a hand on your waist as he toes off his shoes, and his warmth makes you suppress a shiver.

you hum. "he sleeps like the dead though."

atsushi knows about atsumu, having revealed to him not long after you started texting that your long-time friend turned professional volleyball player is now your roommate. atsushi seemed to know who atsumu was, and even noted he looked forward to meeting him, but that would have to wait for another day.

there were more important things at hand.

you twine your fingers with atsushi's, using that grip to lead him towards your bedroom on the other side of the quiet apartment as your heartbeat thumps—hot and wet and noisy—in your chest. you close the door to your bedroom quietly behind you, and before you even have time to reach for the light switch you feel a soft pair of lips against your throat.

"oh," you gasp, your hands reaching up and threading through the silky strands of atsushi's hair.

it's an uncoordinated blur after that as you lead your date blindly towards your bed in the dark, tumbling back across it in a flurry of limbs and lust.

atsushi's hands slip up underneath the hem of your dress as he pants against your mouth. you wiggle a bit to help him ease it up over your hips, but there's something soft underneath you that makes it a bit awkward—a pillow taking up too much space. he goes to push the pillow off the bed, but it's bigger than either of you seem to anticipate.

he pulls back, squinting at it in the dark. he laughs, tugging the unexpectedly large mass up from underneath you. "what is this?"

you can't quite identify it, reaching over to your bedside table and flicking on the light to get a better look.

you really wish you hadn't.

in his hands, atsushi is holding a—not quite life-sized, but certainly much too large—pillow with atsumu in his MSBY uniform printed across it. you're so shocked by it that it takes you a moment to see anything else, but atsushi is not so fortunate.

"uh," his voice cracks a little as he peers around your room. "is this—?"

pasted on virtually any open space on your walls, and lining the various shelves and dressers of your room, atsumu's obnoxious face stares back. it's like the MSBY merch stall has set up shop in your bedroom—the only thing missing is the lineup of squealing teens fighting over the last sakusa jersey.

you're seeing red.

"i'm so sorry," you say, mortified, as you scramble upright in your bed and look at atsushi's startled face. "atsumu must have... i asked him to... oh my god."

you take the body pillow that atsushi still has clutched in his hands, more in shock than anything, and throw it onto the floor. he laughs a little, shaking his head.

"well, i definitely wasn't expecting that."

"this isn't my stuff, i swear," you insist.

he laughs again, but this time it's less strained, almost a giggle. he peeks over at you. "i believe you."

you bite your lip. "did this scare you off?"

he shakes his head, smiling shyly. "nah."

you sigh in relief as he dips down and kisses you again, cradling the nape of your neck as he leans you back in your bed once more. your head is spinning as he presses himself between your parted thighs, grinding gently against you. your eyes flutter open as you moan, but that sound turns into a small shriek of surprise that has him recoiling upright.

taped to the ceiling over your bed, almost perfectly mirroring your own position, an enormous poster of atsumu stares down at you.

that breaks you.

you slip out from underneath atsushi, standing on your bed and ripping the poster down as you reach up on your tiptoes. the sound of the glossy paper ripping is almost violently loud in the quiet of your bedroom.

"i'll be right back," you say, stiff but apologetic, to your bewildered date, before fleeing from the room.

you don't knock when you get to atsumu's room, throwing the door open and stomping inside.

he's sitting in his bed, watching something on his phone with a pair of headphones covering his ears. he looks up in surprise when you come storming in, and his gaze goes from amused to concerned when he sees the look on your face.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" you seethe, struggling to keep your voice low in spite of your desire to scream. you're still clutching a shred of the torn poster in your clenched fist, and you toss it onto his floor angrily. he pushes his headphones down to rest around his neck.

"aw, c'mon," he laughs as he sits up a little straighter in his bed, but the sound is a bit forced. "'s just a joke."

"well, it wasn't funny."

atsumu's jaw twitches a little bit. "if the guy got scared off by a harmless little—"

"he didn't get scared off," you hiss, "no thanks to you."

that shuts him up.

"he's still in my room, by some fucking miracle." your hands are shaking, that's how angry you are. you feel sick. "i told you i really like him, atsumu. why would you do that?"

you wish you didn't sound so wounded. you wish atsumu's answering expression wasn't so blank in the wake.

"god," you say, with a mirthless laugh. "when are you going to grow up?"

if atsumu wants to say more, you don't give him the chance. you spin on your heel and head towards the door, but just before you exit the room, you look back at him one last time. your eyes are narrowed in resentment and sharpened with hurt.

"you're gonna wanna turn that volume up, because i don't plan on keeping it down for your sake."

atsumu says nothing in reply, just stares at you. there's something almost desperate in his gaze that you don't understand, and make no attempt to.

you leave his door open behind you as your final act of spite.

[natalyarose]

𝒥𝓊𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒩𝒶𝓀𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓈 & 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 🧞✨💐✩

I've always thought Jupiter ruled Nakshatras (Punarvasu, Vishakha, & Purvabhadprada) to be veryy magical with their themes of limitlessness, expansion, sheer spiritual abundance & power. I'm not sure if it has been talked about before, but something that always comes to mind when I envision Jupiterian Nakshatras or meet heavily Jupiter influenced people, is the concept of genies.

Jupiter's abundance and endlessly giving nature is known to be a blessing and a curse. A Jupiterian can be the sweet, generous, selfless friend who is there when you need them; providing you endless support, refuge & material generosity.

The dark side of this inherently generous 'wish-fulfilling' nature of Jupiter Nakshatras, is the possibility that they enable dark behaviours in others & themselves. Always saying yes, always being available and endlessly giving to the wrong type of cause or person, can make you complicit in the crime so to speak, even if the intention is simply to give, or give chances (Punarvasu's themes of second chances, 'return to the light'). Jupiter Nakshatras entail hugeee lessons regarding purpose (Vishakha, 'the Star of Purpose') & being intentional and wise as to how you use your power and influence (the infamous test of character in Purvabhadrapada 'the man with two faces').

These Jupiterian themes have always made me think of genies- wish fulfilling creatures who are inherently unable to say no to the wishes uttered to them. Having to just sit and watch people wish for dreadful things and just go... 'as you wish'. Obviously in real life, there really is a choice not to feed into others' and ones own toxic patterns but with Jupiterians, the urge to give, to be constantly available to others, can almost feel like it's not a choice. It's energetically intertwined in their make-up.

I would love to gather more examples, but it's 3am here and this was a bit of a spur of the moment thing I had to get out haha- I looked into a few of the most prominent 'genie' roles in movies and as I suspected, every single one features an actor/actress with strong Jupiter influence.

Jeannie from 60s sitcom 'I dream of Jeannie' - actress, Barbara Eden has Punarvasu Ascendant

Kazaam from 90s comedic film 'Kazaam' - actor/basketball player Shaquille O'Neal has Purvabhadrapada Sun

Genie from Disney's Aladdin - played in the live action movie by Will Smith, Vishakha Moon.

This genie theme really makes me think of all of the Jupiterian Nakshatras, but Vishakha especially. A friend of mine who is a Vishakha stellium always tells me about how it is said that Vishakha has the ability to generate 'instant karma'. So Vishakha natives to an extent greater than other Nakshatras will receive the raw manifested result of their thoughts/actions veryy quickly. Much like a genie granting instant wishes.

I was going to mention also that the whole genie archetype also reminds me of Rohini a bit- the wish-fulfilling aspect, the element of fulfilling desires without shame/inhibition. It's a little different in nature, but Rohini Nakshatra's got a similar theme where the native is incredibly nurturing of who or what sets their heart on fire, sometimes to a fault. Rohini is capable of immense growth but can forgo morality/practicality for the sake of immersion in the process of creation & sparking joy. Rohini's philosophy is something along the lines of 'let go of judgement because judgement inhibits creation and disrupts purity'. This is very true, but of course as humans on the divided and dense Earthly plane, we know that having a sense of judgement & boundaries is also important.

That was very wordy, but hopefully y'all see what I'm getting at lol. Although I'm more inclined to associate Rohini with wise old wizard dudes with cool beards & mad but genius scientists lol.

Back to Jupiterians-

I believe that Jupiter Nakshatra's 'remedy' is to eventually realise that they are not a slave to their giving nature, and the power lies in them to decide, & give only to a person, dream, goal or cause that truly is aligned with their own soul's path. Break free from the shackles lol- with wisdom hopefully. Without that element of wisdom, Jupiter can run wild with that discovered power.

Jupiterians struggling with discernment is why Jupiter Nakshatras oppose Venusian Nakshatras (Bharani opposes Vishakha; Purvaphalguni opposes Purvabhadrapada; Purvashadha opposes Punarvasu). Venus masters the fine art of 'necessary cruelty' sometimes ya gotta rip out the weeds, warn off the pigeons and trim the rose bush to make your garden a beautiful, pleasant, luxurious place. Jupiter can struggle with this, instinctively wanting to be a safe space for everyone and everything.

Jupiter ruled Nakshatras also partially oppose Solar Nakshatras (Krittika, Uttaraphalguni & Uttarashadha) illustrating the Jupiterian struggle with putting oneself first. Solar Nakshatras keep their energy strong and vibrantly resounding at their core; wheras Jupiter Nakshatras are kinda messy with their energy (lol, not necessarily in a bad way)- they disperse their energy everywhere, giving & giving. Both Solar & Jupiter Nakshatras deal with themes of limitless reserves energy, but in opposite, contrasting ways.

There's so much I could write about Jupiterians, I love Jupiter energy very much. I really love all of the Nakshatras lol, I mean how could you not? Every Nakshatra holds teachings that are integral to making the world a better place 💕🪷

Thankyou for reading!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Knight

Katie McCabe x England!Reader

Summary: You yell at your sister

"Well, well, well," Beth teases the moment she comes in from the showers. Her finger waggles in your direction. "If it isn't the knight in shining armour!"

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

"I think you silenced the whole stadium," Steph agrees with a little laugh," I've never seen you speak so loudly before!"

"Please stop talking."

"I mean, once second Katie's getting tackled and the next you look like you're about to clobber your sister!"

You huff, pulling on your shirt. "She shouldn't have come anywhere near Katie. It was reckless and stupid and Katie could have been seriously hurt!"

The image still replays in your mind. It stayed running on loop throughout the whole of your shower.

You don't know what was up with your sister this whole match but she clearly had it out for Katie. Wherever Katie was, so was your sister, sliding in on Katie's ankle time after time after time.

You'd had enough around the seventieth minute when Beth slid in and sent Katie tumbling to the ground.

And, yeah, maybe you yelled. Maybe you practically silenced the stadium with how loud you'd done it and maybe the almighty Spurs captain that was your sister, was greeted with the reason why everyone always compared you to Mum.

Mum was quiet. Some might even describe her as meek but she could yell. She rarely did but when it happened, everyone knew they had gone a step too far.

You'd always been like Mum, quiet enough that it was almost to your detriment, nervous enough that you didn't fight your own battles sometimes. You looked like her. You sounded like her.

You had her disposition and attitudes.

The colour had drained from Beth's face the moment you raised your voice, echoing across the pitch from your goal at the Arsenal end. She went as white as her shirt and backed up immediately...

And you had gone back into your goal silently.

You should have known no one was going to let it go.

Least of all, your actual girlfriend who, surprisingly, hadn't joined in on the teasing but had stayed stuck to your side ever since the match ended.

She'd shared a shower with you. She's changed with you and now, she was sat in her cubby waiting for you to finish braiding your hair out of your face.

"I think it was very sweet," She says finally, an easy grin on her face," Truly a knight in shining armour."

"Don't you start," You mutter, grabbing your back and throwing it over your shoulder," This is already embarrassing enough. I need to apologise to Beth."

"You don't need to apologise to me!" Arsenal Beth laughs and you roll your eyes again, sticking up your middle finger as you walk out with Katie.

"You looked good though," Katie says as soon as you're out of eavesdropping range of the changing room," Defending me and all that."

You huff. "Beth shouldn't have been going in on you like that and that ref was useless."

"But, still, the shouting? I don't think I've ever heard you shout like that before. Not even when I made your hot chocolate with water."

You stamp your foot childishly. "Hot chocolate made with water is sacrilegious and not acceptable in my house."

Katie rolls her eyes, an arm thrown over your shoulder. "Your sister really got what was coming to her. It's nice that I'm not the one coming away with the yellow today."

"Don't worry," You reply wryly," I'm sure you'll make up for it next match."

"We still up for dinner tonight?"

"So long as Beth keeps her feet to herself."

It was tradition now that at the end of a London Derby, you would go and have dinner with your parents and your sister. Katie too, though she had been a more recent addition since you had started dating.

"Your sister isn't crazy," Katie laughs," But don't worry." She winks at you. "You'll keep her in line, my knight in shining armour."

"Don't call me that," You say with no real bite in your tone," Because then everyone else will call me that too. I've only just shed Pigeon. Don't bring in another one."

"Don't worry," Katie says, sliding into the driver's seat," I won't let anyone else hear me use it."

"Katie-"

"Except maybe your sister but I can't control that."

"What did you say to her today?" You ask, staring out the window as Katie drove to the usual restuarant.

"To who?"

"To my sister. She isn't that aggressive usually and I know you, Katie. You're a shit-stirrer."

"I didn't!"

"I know you," You repeat," Come on, I won't be mad."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Katie sighs. "I made a joke."

"A joke?"

"Yeah."

"About?"

"Our sex life."

You sigh, a little laugh bubbling out from your throat. "Oh, Katie. Not again."

[singingcicadas]

idw Ratchet is someone who follows orders and respects authority. He might follow his conscience in spur-of-the-moment decisions that allows him the leeway/initiative to act on his own (e.g. setting up clinic on Dead End, breaking cover to save Verity and Hunter, going to look for Drift, voting against Rodimus in mtmte) but he's never openly defied the orders of an acting leader. Regardless if he doesn't agree with said order and thinks it's stupid. Or wrong.

Even when Ratchet thinks Rodimus' treatment of Drift is unfair, he never speaks up against Rodimus during the actual issue of the exile verdict. He only offers Drift silent support by helping him up on the way out, because Rodimus is the captain and you don't argue with the captain. Yes he thinks Rodimus is a crap captain and acts condesending towards him all the time but when it comes to rank and orders there's no ambiguity.

Voting against Rodimus in the crisis act is a legitimate expression of disapproval, made anonymously in private. He doesn't care about Rodimus knowing his vote, but in public it stays anonymous. He does tell Rodimus off about what he did to Drift, but again, he makes sure it's a private one-on-one appointment. He also doesn't make Rodimus formally revoke Drift's exile or sanction his search, he resigns his position as CMO and quietly leaves to look for Drift himself as a personal commitment.

Common stereotype of what Ratchet is not:

Medic ethics and commitment to patients comes first, factions be damned. I don't care if he's a Decepticon, he's my patient.

No he's not actually like that? When Megatron's in custody he's all lets dissect him awwwww why can't we dissect him why does mass murderers still get rights that's so stupid can't I just torture him a little?

Like he spent the whole war patching up Decepticon-inflicted wounds and witnessing Decepticon-inflicted deaths. He's not a saint. He has as much good reason to hate Megatron and his faction as any other Autobot.

In fact he was pretty eager to ask Optimus about what he's going to decide as Megatron's punishment after he heard about Optimus frying Megatron on the voltage harness.

Optimus has his heart on clemency. Ratchet's the one hoping for execution or something equally nasty. Even though their opinions doesn't line up, Ratchet's still 100% supportive of Optimus' decision.

He repairs Megatron only because of Bumblebee's orders, and makes his unwillingness known.

Later in mtmte Ratchet does save Megatron's life of his own volition and repairs him again, but that's after he's lived with Megatron on the same ship for six months (again something that he considers to be a colossally bad idea but is forced to live with because of orders) and got to know him as a person. Not because of bleeding heart syndrome.

Also Ratchet's not just a grouch all the time. He can be blunt but also knows when to be respectful as appropriate to the occasion. He reprimands Wheeljack for being disrespectful to Bumblebee because leaders should be treated like leaders.

The guy's been CMO since Nominus Prime, essentially the highest-ranking of his profession on the planet; you can't get to that type of position and hold it through consecutive leaders for millions of years without considerable interpersonal skills and knowledge of social protocol.

Prowl does have Ratchet on his little blacklist but the stuff on there really just refers to Ratchet saving Verity and Hunter back in Infilitration. I read it as more of a testament to Prowl's pettiness than Ratchet actually being a problem.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I want to ask your opinion on the scene in Queen Banana where Zoe tells Chloe that she loves her and will stay by her side even when everyone will hate her as she's giving her the Magical Charm in order to prevent her from being further akumatized (which failed in the long run lol), do you think Zoe lied about her feelings towards her half sister just to manipulate her into doing what she wants ? Cause that's the implication this scene is giving now considering that Zoe rejoiced with everyone else in Revolution when Chloe essentially got exiled from Paris alongside their mother.

Also more importantly do you think the writers wanted us to believe that Zoe never actually loved Chloe and only told her that she did cause it was easier to manipulate her that way or it's just bad writing that it come across that way ?

I wouldn't read too hard into Zoé's actions here as she was just quoting her lines from the movie she was staring in that episode, which makes this feel like less of a thought-out action and more like improv that you shouldn't read into in almost any story.

Movie scene:

Mylène (Destroika): You're just like them, I hate you! (Falls to try floor.) Zoé (Kreatika): You may hate me, but I love you, (kneels) and I always will, even if the whole world hates you, (places hand on Mylène/Destroika's) sister. (Mylène/Destroika looks up, and the two hug each other as the class/citizens cheer. The audience applauds.)

Chloé scene:

Chloé: (shaking with anger) Don't call her that. She's not even half of a sister, she's nothing to me! I— (turns to Zoé) I hate you! Zoé: (places hands on Chloé's shoulders) You may hate me, but I love you, and I always will, even if the whole world hates you, sister. (she hugs Chloé) Remember? We have the same mother! Look, she even gave me this gift. (reaches out the Magical Charm) Chloé: If it comes from mom, then I'm the one who gets to wear it. Give it to me! (the akuma flies into the building)

Generally speaking, I'm not sure if we're supposed to believe that Zoé loves Chloé or hates Chloé or has any deeper feelings about Chloé at all. The sisters barely ever interact in canon and it's implied that they were raised on different continents, so there's no background reason for Zoé to feel any particular way about her half sister.

While I'm not much of a Zoé fan, her actions here are hard to meaningfully criticize both because they're spur-of-the-moment and because Chloé has no reaction to the love claim. She only reacts to the claim that the charm came from their mother, leading her to steal the charm (as far as she knows). That makes it hard to see the love claim as manipulative, intentional or otherwise.

The manipulation comes from the lie about the charm's origin, but seeing as the charm immediately keeps Chloé from being akumatized yet again, it's really hard to say that Zoé shouldn't have done what she did. My criticism here is much more focused on the writing which has basically decided that Chloé is a terrorist supporter now, which is the only reason the manipulation even happened:

Ladybug: This Magical Charm can help Chloé escape Shadow Moth's influence, but I can't force her to wear it. Vesperia:(holds Ladybug's hands) I know how to do it.

So, sure, lie to Chloé if it keeps her from accepting more akumas, I guess?

It's so hard for me to take anything about Chloé's writing seriously in the later seasons. No matter how she feels about Ladybug, I have a really hard time believing that she'd want to be akumatized after it had caused her so much trouble in the past. Lila does it for a goal, so that does make sense, but Chloe has no real goal. She just likes letting this total stranger have power over her because she's that petty, I guess? But if that's what they're going with, then you'd think that she'd blame Gabriel for Miracle Queen just as much as she blames Ladybug. That would make Chloé nuanced and realistic, though, so we can't have that.

It's such absurd characterization that it shatters my suspension of disbelief every time. Chloé is so one-dimensional now that I just go, "sure, why not. Have her do that, too" when she does some new evil. Zoé has similar issues, just on the opposite side where she has no meaningful flaws. It really does feel like Chloé was split into two, extremely-lesser versions of herself. Nice, bland Chloé who loves everyone and evil, terrorist-supporting Chloé who loves no one.

[xmysweetcreaturex]

WIP Wednesday (Friday)/ Last Line Tag

I just wanna share my work 😫

A little scene from the MOTA Apocalypse AU that @polifandom and I are working on ✨ This one is a little bit thicker and spicier like John- which is good because its his pov lol

Despite his natural physique and stature, John’s never been the bigger man, metaphorically speaking. John’s never been one to back down from a fight; he only knows how to add fuel to the fire. The only problem is that sometimes he has to watch as the whole thing burns to the ground, sometimes with him in it .

“Starting to worry-”, John scoffs, “All you do is worry! It’s always ‘John do this’ and ‘John do that’. Do you get off on CONSTANTLY bossing me around? You got some unresolved Daddy issues, you’re trying to work through with me?”

Gale is as silent as the grave, his mouth pulled tightly into a thin line.

“Huh- Answer me, Gale!” John yells louder. The rapid beat of heart and the sound of his own rushing blood in his ears seems to spur him further; moving to stand directly in front of Gale and shove at his shoulders.

Buck absorbs the jolt as gracefully as one can with their boots sliding in the mud. He looks John up and down before staring back into the other man’s feral gaze as he breathes out a condescending chuckle through his nose.

“Have to have a Daddy first, wouldn’t I? ” Buck says bitterly, as he barges him out of the way to go sit at the river bank.

And it's like someone came up and popped the bubble that stood around them containing all of John’s misplaced anger and vitriol.

He thinks the ‘funniest’ thing about being a ‘firecracker’, a ‘hot head’, or a ‘loose cannon’ is that sometimes he starts fights he doesn’t wanna finish, not actually. Sometimes he starts a whole tangent only to realize half way through that he doesn’t know what he is talking about, or why he brought it up in the first place, or worse, he doesn’t even care, not really.

In the end, it’s the fallout that kills him. All the horrible things he’s said and all the people he’s hurt. It’s the kind of feeling that gnaws on his insides until he feels like there’s nothing left of him. That’s why he drinks.

It softens the edges and smooths the lines, makes him forget, makes him not care about the outcome or the aftermath. Makes him feel it all moment to moment, nothing is forever. Just chasing the pleasure that fills him up enough so he’d never notice how actually starved he is for genuine connection and love.

Now that it's gone though- he doesn’t want to go down this rabbit hole right now.

If you’d like to take a look at all the snippets and ramblings the ACU (Arcadia Cinematic Universe™️- i will make this a thing) has to offer feel free to peruse #Arcadia using this link.

super chill no pressure tags for these lovely peeps 💞

@antiquitea @soliloquy-dawn @skyyguy @daysofxavierspast @sleepr-agent420 @quick-catton @oopsiedaisiesbaby @feyd-meowtha

free tag @/anyone that would like to do this as well!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @stevesbipanic! They have fourteen works under the Stranger Things tag and thirteen of those works are under the Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson tag over on Archive of our Own!!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following of their works by stevesbipanic:

Stevie's Time Loop

Home For Christmas

Remember Me

The Clothes That Make Us

Boy for All Seasons

She's an amazing writer that's able to make you feel connected to the characters, especially Steve. She's able to make me both cry and laugh in the same fic which is a feat to do well. She's also an amazing friend. Stevie's Time Loop is one of my favourite as it's a really unique way of writing a timeloop with large time jumps and most loops focusing on Steve and his trauma rather than finding a solution. - anonymous

Below the cut, @stevesbipanic answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Steddie was the first ship that ever drove me to write fanfiction. I think the fact that I see myself a lot in both of them, especially Steve makes them so enjoyable to write for me. I think they’re also such moldable characters that you can write them into a lot of different stories quite easily and I love exploring their personalities and dynamics.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Soulmate AUs because I��m a sucker for true love.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Angst with a happy ending, I love making both these boys and my readers cry but also want them to be happy and in love in the end.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is such a hard question, there are so many talented writers and amazing fics, but if I had to choose one I’d have to say “The One in Which a Time Loop is Fucking Exhausting” by badpancake, it was one of the first time loop fics I read and really inspired my own time loop fic.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’d love to explore a fantasy AU in the future, I know many talented authors writing dragon!eddie and King Steve or knight and bard steddie and it is one of my favourite genres of fics that are outside of Hawkins.

What is your writing process like?

A mess, most of my works on Tumblr are spur of the moment ideas that will come to me and I immediately need to write them down. It’s actually the longer slower projects that are hardest for me since they require a lot more planning and editing, I really admire the authors consistently putting out those big fics.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’d say my most noticeable one is how I write dialogue, I really don’t like writing steve said eddie said etc etc. I usually write each thing said on it’s own line and it’s clear who’s speaking by what they say or how they say it, I think it breaks up the story nicely too since you feel you’re seeing the conversation rather than reading it.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

As soon as I finish writing I want people to see it, I kinda hate sometimes when I’m doing a project and have to wait for a specific time to post but the anticipation can be fun too.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Honestly, I’m most proud of my latest fic “Home for Christmas” it was the first time I’d ever participated in a bang and the project felt huge, it felt like a big achievement getting it all out in the end and it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written as a bonus.

How did you get the idea for Remember Me?

I think I’d been reading a fic where Steve got a concussion and had a bit of temporary memory loss and I just thought what if all those concussions had long lasting effects on Steve’s brain when he grew older. I’ve also experienced a love one going through long term memory loss and how hard it is to watch that.

When writing Stevie's Time Loop, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to become a whole fic! It started off as one little off hand drabble I wrote that alluded to a lot of loops surrounding the scene of Steve and Robin discussing how Robin had a bad feeling about this and just thought well what if this is like time loop deja vu.

What inspired The Clothes That Make Us?

Exploring why Steve dresses how he does and how he likes the things he does and how there’s an emotional reason behind some of the fans favourite outfits was something I wanted to explore more and this was my very first fic I wrote for ao3 so it was a bit daunting but also very exciting.

What was your favorite part to write from Boy for All Seasons?

My favourite part was definitely thinking of all the silly costumes Eddie would come up with as well as flirty Steve is so fun to write.

How do/did you feel writing The Clothes That Make Us?

I felt nervous since it was the first fic I ever wrote but excited since I felt really proud writing something that long and the feedback I got was so heartwarming.

What was the most difficult part of writing Remember Me?

Omg just getting to the end without crying so hard, after I posted it so many people messaged me about how they cried through it, just know I was writing that through tears too!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

"Thank you for giving me a life worth remembering.” in “Remember Me” makes me want to cry everytime and really shows what we want for our favourite characters is to have a happy life however long they get.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’ll be posting my fic in the upcoming Reverse Bang in March which is exciting and I’ve got a secret project coming up later this year that people can follow @steddielycrying.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’d just like to thank everyone who’s supported me through writing, whether it be a random comment on a fic or my lovely mutuals that get me through hard days, this has been an amazing fandom to be apart of and I can’t wait to write more!

Thank you to our author, @stevesbipanic , and our nominator! See more of @stevesbipanic's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[sensei-venus]

New amateur actress omega reader joining the cast but when they are out and about paparazzi are always trying to get pictures of her bc everyone wants to know who she is and everything about her but she's actually shy and sensitive so the alphas of the cast always scent her, put their arms around her, and ward off the paparazzi and cameras bc all they want is to protect her. This ofc only spurs on rumors of "which of her new cast mates is Reader dating?"

Reader joining the cast is a pretty big thing. It's not just because she's a up and coming actresses, it's because she a omega. When she joins the cobra kai cast it's a big thing for everyone. Almost the whole cast is made up of alphas minus Mary and Hannah who are the only omegas on set. Reader being added makes them the only free omegas on the whole lot.

She is also the only omega on set that doesn't take supressents. Both Hannah and Mary take them for their own personal reasons. Reader doesn't like them, she's also very proud of being an omega even with all the side effects that come with it. That being said her scent is all over the place. Wherever Reader is, everyone knows it.

The whole cast takes to her very quickly as soon as they meet her. She is so sweet, soft-spoken, and just an all-around sweetheart. A few of the alphas get a little blushy with how cute she is. Her being shy also has them all on the “awe!” train. Of course shy omega isn't new but that doesn't stop it from being adorable. It's safe to say the whole cast has taken to being very protective of the shy omega the longer she's on set with them.

That's why she always has someone with her during events.

Reader isn't the biggest event fan, that's pretty clear. Red carpet even at along with just plain big events make her nervous for good reason. Reporters and phroghers are always all over the place. Ready to pounce at her from the moment she gets out of the car she's in.

That's why all of the alphas take turns accompanying her to said events.

“Jacob nooo!” Reader practically whined at the guy. Jacob was too busy trying to pump out his own scent to really care about the girls whining. Rubbing his scent all over her was more import in that moment.

“Come on I don't want you getting jumped as soon as we get out of the limo. You know how those paparazzi are. It's better that your covered in my scent, maybe it will help to throw them off and they won't try to attack you.”

After a good two or three minutes he felt comfortable enough to pull away from her. Now she was completely clocked in his nature scent. It would be hard to even get a whiff of her sweet scent. His own musky one did the trick with ease to cover her scent.

She huffs and slumps back into her seat, cheeks puffed out. Jacob just playfully rolled his eyes and chuckles.

When the limo stops in front of the walk away she is the first one out. The flashes of lights are almost blinding. Photographs line the walk way along with the wider carpet stage area. Among them are a group of interviewers. As soon as they caught sight of her they started to flock. Jacob was quick to exit the car as well. Side by side the two made their way up the main walk way and onto the carpet. Ever so slowly they walked along the carpet letting the cameras take their pictures. They stoped to do a pose or two, getting some together and some by themselves.

Everything was going well until one of the lone interviewers got away from the flock.

Some random guy stuck up under the ropes around the sides of the walkway, shoving his mic into Reader’s face. For a moment the omega was slightly stunned. Words caught in her throat as the alpha reporter popped her personal bubble. It was almost like she couldn’t speak. Her shyness taking over.

“Reader are you dating anyone from the cast?”

“It must be hard working on a set that has mostly alpha castmates, how does it feel being on of the only omegas on set?”

“You are covered in one of the alpha casts scent as we speak, is that your new alpha?”

On the outside Reader is only stunned but on the inside she’s freaking out. But it’s only a matter of seconds before her body is betraying her. Her scent is being pumped out like a leaking faucet. Having the random stranger all over her was messing with her. It didn’t help that the guy was an alpha. Pressing all over her making she want to run off. His scent was so off putting that it made her nose twitch in disgust. Trying to step back did nothing to get him away.

That’s when Jacob made his way between them. He pushed the guy away, physically snapping at him. 

The two quickly walked away from the carpet and into the large venue. Jacob made sure to keep her close as they made their way inside. His nose was quick to pick up on their other castmates scents in the near by room. It was only a few minutes u til they found most of the other cobra kai cast sitting at a large table in the main event room. Most of them were already sitting down. Some stud up talking to other actors and actresses that littered the room.

It was as if the other had already smelled them coming because everyone started to look their way.

Maybe it was Jacob’s already irritated scent that had their heads turning, or maybe it was Readers panicked once that was seeping though Jacob’s cover up scent he had given her in the limo.

The rest of the night was spent with the alpha cast members surrounding the shy omega. Occasionally scenting the omega nonchalantly. Not caring if anyone saw them doing it though out the night.

[lamardeuse]

lay my body on the line

by lamardeuse

911 || Buck/Eddie || Rated T || c. 2700 words

Written for @911actions thanks to the kind donation of @oliversbuck. Hope you enjoy!

Prompt 408: While on call, someone attacks/hurts Buck, and Eddie gets protective (Include lines for Eddie saying, “Buck, it’s me. It’s Eddie.”)

There were days, Eddie felt, when getting out of bed was a mistake.

Of course, he always got out of bed anyway, because there was work to do or groceries to buy or a fourteen-year-old to feed and drive to school – but that didn't make it any less of a mistake.

It didn't help that staying in bed had gotten a lot more appealing lately. And some mornings Eddie found it literally hard to move, like when there was a tree trunk of a thigh slung across his legs.

“Hey,” Eddie said, shoving ineffectually at the owner of the tree trunk in question. “Wake up.”

“Hnnnfffnhhh.”

“Time to get up.”

“Five more minutes.”

“You're worse than Christopher.” Eddie kissed Buck's forehead. “Fine. Five more minutes.”

With a hum of satisfaction, Buck laid his head on Eddie's chest and closed his eyes again. Eddie stroked a hand through Buck's hair and tried to ignore the pounding in his chest. For weeks now, he'd been putting off this conversation, but the warm weight of Buck in his bed – a bed he’d been thinking of as theirs for longer than he wanted to admit – spurred him on.

“So I've been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“You've been spending a lot of time here the last few months. In fact, you're here more than you're at your own place.”

Eddie felt the exact moment Buck's whole body went completely still, but now that he'd started he couldn't stop. “I don't know if your lease is up soon, but you could – I don't know, maybe if it isn't you could sublet? I mean, if that's something you want to do.”

Buck raised his head slowly. “Eds,” he rasped. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Eddie bit his lip. “Are you saying it's a bad idea?”

“No, I'm – it's just kind of a surprise. It's only been four months.”

“This has been your second home for years, Buck.”

“Are you – are you sure about this? You told me you asked Marisol to move in too quickly, and asked her to move out before she had a whole box unpacked.”

“And you asked Taylor to move in with you because you didn't want to come clean about Lucy.” Buck flinched slightly; Eddie cupped his jaw and swept a thumb over his cheekbone. “I know neither of us has a great track record, but – that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

Buck’s gaze searched his face for a few seconds, and Eddie could feel his pulse rate approaching imminent stroke territory. As Buck opened his mouth to speak, Eddie panicked.

“You don't have to answer me now, okay? Just – think about it.”

Buck stiffened, then nodded. “Sure, I’ll – I’ll do that.” He gave Eddie a quick kiss before pushing himself upright. “Guess that five minutes is up. Mind if I hit the shower first?”

“No, go ahead,” Eddie murmured.

As soon as Buck closed the door behind him, he rolled over and tried to smother himself with the pillow. To his great disappointment, it didn’t work.

read the rest at the AO3

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Misattribution of Arousal | pt. 2

Fratboy!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Masterlist

Words: ~3k

Warnings: Let me know if I missed anything, but this can be read as a gn!reader. Gets suggestive. Kissing. Fluff

A/N: This is a continuation of this fic. Thank you for the love on the last part – Fratboy!Peter does something to me lol. Hope you like it!

Thanks as always for reading!! Love to hear your thoughts (and thots) <3

It’s not long before you’re leaving a spot open next to you for Peter when he rushes into class a few minutes late. Though you didn’t sit near the back before, you did now so he could easily slip in the seat to your left without disturbing too many others

And so that you could laugh at his little comments without the professor hearing

A little breathless as he removes his backpack, he asks, “What’d I miss?”

Wordlessly, you point to your notes for today’s lecture. The only thing you have written besides the date is “What’d I miss? - Peter” – already knowing what he’d ask

Peter stifles a laugh behind the back of his hand while a smile rises on your face. But any confidence you felt in that moment disappears as he grabs your pencil. His fingers brush against yours before writing something below your question

“You”

He whispers, “That was an easy answer”

With your face hot, you still stare forward, pretending to focus on whatever the professor’s saying. But the heavy weight of his gaze drags down your resolve. To remedy the heat licking up your spine, you try to distract him

“Might be on the test,” you joke, a breathy laugh following your words

Though of course, you could sense the smirk rising to his lips, always winning this back and forth between you two

“Guess I’ll just have to study extra hard, then”

Any witty remark you could’ve had dies in your throat – couldn’t even look him in the eyes for the rest of class

Peter usually ends up taking pity on you in these moments, which much to your annoyance (and sometimes flattery) happens way too often. He’ll tone down the flirtiness and let you breathe before making some other remark that leaves you struggling to face him

--

One time, you joke that he gets off on it. He just laughs, letting the silence to your accusation speak for itself, which only fuels your overactive thoughts

--

Some days, you’re doodling in the top corner of your notebook, random shapes and lines – the occasional flower here and there

Those are Peter’s favorite because he’ll doodle his own flowers in between yours. Usually, by the end of class, he rips off the corner of the page and thanks you for the bouquet 

He laughs it off, teasing you for not focusing in class or something, but you see the way he slips it into his folder for the class. So you eventually doodle flowers on your paper more often, sometimes on his too (when he actually bothers to open up his notebook)

--

And you’d go to his basketball games!!

You didn’t really have a reason to attend before besides general school spirit, but now…

Peter would invite you, quite unsure you’d even want to go – unsure he was a good enough reason to get you to come

But you did show up, bought popcorn and a drink, even subtly adding some of your school’s colors to your outfit

Part of you feels a little out of place in all this, but the look on Peter’s face when his eyes catch yours while jogging onto the court soothes any worries as you watch him

And boy do you watch him. The way he effortlessly gets around other players, how his arms flex when lining up his shot, the sweat slowly beading along his forehead keeps you from looking anywhere else the whole game. After he makes an impressive shot, sometimes his eyes will find yours with that annoyingly beautiful smile

After some games, he’d go back to his place to rest or go out to celebrate with his team. But other times, he’d search you out after exiting the locker room

You raise your hands to keep him from getting his sweat on you, but that just spurs him further – which you’re not too upset about because it means him trying to get you and keep you in his embrace. You’re laughing, trying to push him away but only half-heartedly as most of your mind is on the way his hard body presses against yours

Peter pulls away but only a little as he asks, “Wanna get ice cream?”

And you do. Anything to spend a minute longer with him. And something to cool yourself down

--

One day, it’s in the lulling silence between the two of you in the campus coffee shop that Peter asks you. 

In between conversations, when neither of you have fought your words up your throat and out just yet, the silence had felt comfortable for a short time. In that brief window of time between friends and realizing that you’re actually starting to fall for him. But it’s different now, your nerves over-firing all the time around him, so this silence is like no other as of late: coursing into your muscles to keep you tense and nervous, even making you jump when Peter asks,

“Are you coming to my party on Friday?”

Your eyes blink up from the swirls of your drink to his, only beginning with “Um…” while your brain tries to catch up

You knew his frat house threw parties often, Peter leading most of them with wide arms and his usual grace. He’d mentioned you coming to them before but hasn’t ever asked outright. If how shocked you are by his bluntness rises to your face, he doesn’t acknowledge it. You liked Peter, being with him, but at a house of drunk people you didn’t know – that wasn’t exactly your element

As you balanced the decision back and forth in your head, he just watches, giving you an amused sort of look that doesn’t help your focus in any way. You hold your drink close to your body as you answer

“I don’t know, I might need to catch up on things – especially since someone’s been taking up plenty of my free time,” you pointedly say to him

In the short moment of him smiling, you think he might let you off the hook. But no

“C’mon, I can actually show you around the place. And you could meet my friends if you want”

Tilting your head, you ask, “Won’t you be busy hosting or… wanting to enjoy yourself and party?”

The laugh he lets out isn’t quite like one that follows something funny. More like he’s laughing at you for a bad joke. “I’d enjoy myself plenty just hanging out with you. Promise,” he says, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

That makes you giggle. “Were you even a boy scout, Peter?”

His body leans forward along the table, his hand coming up to ruffle his hair before resting his head on his fist. “If you come Friday, I’ll show you my patch collection”

Smacking his arm, you shake your head. “You do not have a boy scout patch collection in your frat house.” You’re sure his wide grin matches your own, and there’s no way you can say no to him, to anything he’d ask of you in that moment

“Okay,” you sigh, “but if you weren’t an Eagle Scout, then I’m going to be a little disappointed”

He whispers a soft “yes!” under his breath, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes at his cheering, earning a soft tap from his foot against your leg under the table

--

Your roommate, watching you unable to decide on what outfit to wear to this, helps you get ready. Something cute? Something revealing? Your roommate leans toward the latter, “Make him start drooling the second he sees you”

Compromising on something in between, you walk out the door into your campus’s night air hoping it’s good enough for… what?

With each step, you get closer to the house, passing other students dressed up for the night, you’re not sure what you’re trying to do. Impress him? Get him to kiss you? Not be too embarrassed to show you around at least…

Music grows louder as you near the frat house, seeing colorful lights stream out from the windows. Just as sneaking thoughts start worming their way through your mind second-guessing this whole thing, you spot him

Peter’s out in front of the house, leaning back against the wall, bobbing his head to the music and sipping from a cup. In the swaying shadows of the lights, he looks beautiful like this – and then he sees you

Instantly, everything about how he holds himself changes. Pushing off the wall, arms stretched wide with that electric smile, he walks toward you

You’re not sure whether you’re relieved that you won’t have to search through a sea of bodies to find him or dreading how nervous his intense gaze makes you

As the distance between you two dwindles, his eyes drag down your body, making you shrink a bit. Maybe it’s the outfit, but he’s like this with you all the time. It’s how he has to be to any girl here

Your hands clasp in front of you, your fingers picking at your nails. Perhaps Peter notices because he grabs your hand in his, sending your skin aflame with his hot touch, and brings it up

Dramatically, he holds it as he bows with a dumb smile, saying, “Welcome to my great estate”

Giggling and embarrassed, you weakly try to pull away, but he holds tight for a moment – like if you pull again, he’ll let you go in an instant. As if he’s asking if you really want to leave his touch

But you don’t so you let him hold your hand as you say, “Peter, you’re ridiculous. I’ve already been here before”

Shaking his head, he fake tsks at you. “Sweetheart…”

Oh my lord. What did he just call you? Wait, shit, he’s still talking

“That was the traditional Boy Scouts greeting, don’t go disrespecting it. And you haven’t been here in its prime time, so I’ll have to reacquaint the two of you”

All you can do is laugh, your mind too fuzzy to think of a good response when that pet name for you rolled off his lips so beautifully. Not that you were focused on his lips

The feeling of him squeezing your hand brings you back, your eyes focusing on the way his head tilts slightly at you, his gaze never leaving you

Clearing your throat, you finally manage to say, “Show me the way, then”

Peter shifts to the other side of you, and the way your stomach drops at the chance of him letting go of your hand shocks you, your heart thumping against your ribs. But he just moves your hand from one side to the other, entwining your fingers with his while walking through the door

You’d been to parties, have become acquainted with loud and stuffy places full of people you don’t know, but the sheer intensity of all that feels tenfold against your chest. You knew his fraternity was made up of a lot of basketball players, but the amount of towering men walking through has you feeling just as small again

For a split second, someone bumps into you, disconnecting your hand with Peter’s as swaying bodies swallow you farther away. Standing on the tips of your toes, you try finding him again, but you can barely see or hear anything

You’re left following the crowd, pushing through until you find the kitchen. Feeling sweat start to form along your skin, you find anything cold to drink, standing off to the side. Though the rest of you feels warm, the part of your skin that he touched feels just a bit colder without him next to you

In the corner, focusing on the people in front of you, you’re trying to calm your heartbeat. And hoping that Peter would somehow find you 

Though with everyone so close and the music too loud to hear another person even if they were yelling next to you, you found it difficult to find peace

Not until you spot him once again

It’s his flopping blonde hair that you first see, recognizing the twisted strands of sunlight as they move toward you. Then his warm eyes as they scanned the crowd

You look next at that usual smile that had started feeling like a familiar comfort – like discovering your new favorite song you wanted to replay for hours on end – but he isn’t smiling

No, his mouth’s set into a straight line, his eyebrows drawn together as his head whips this way and that. Abrasive thoughts in the back of your head tell you not to, that he wasn’t really looking for you. But still, you raise your hand, hoping to grab his attention 

And once his gaze finds you once again, a tightness visibly escapes him, loosening his shoulders as he pushes through to you, not letting anyone stop his momentum until the two of you are face to face

“There you are,” he yells, though it feels like a caressing whisper against your cheek

“Here I am,” you tell him, unable to hide away from his infectious smile that brings one to your own face

“Yeah,” he breathes out. You can only tell by reading his lips, but you find it hard to drag your eyes away from his mouth after that

Not until he asks, “You okay? You look a bit flushed”

Peter pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, checking your temperature with those worried creases adorning his face again. The sheer tenderness brings a shaky breath from your lungs

“Here, let’s go upstairs,” he says, eyebrows raised as he grabs your hand again, holding tighter than before

A pang of apprehension – of guilt – hits your chest. “Shouldn’t you be down here hosting and being with your friends?”

As soon as your question hits his ears, he gives you a soft smile, rolling his eyes as he leads you through the crowd once more. Every time he looks back, making sure you’re okay, a tang of butterflies swirling in your stomach starts up again

The misattribution of arousal theory isn’t lost on you in the moment, and you refuse to be confused like those people. Clearly, your bodily arousal is coming from the suffocating party rather than the handsome man glancing back at you with stars in his eyes

That same inner voice from before raises worries that every pair of eyes watching the two of you might be assuming that Peter Parker’s taking you up to his room, all alone, to make you another one of his one-night stands

But you feel the way his thumb rubs against your skin as you climb the stairs, feeling the callouses he brushes along the dips and curves of your hand – finding yourself unable to care too much about what they all think when he fits so right against you

Outside his door, he knocks a few times, ensuring no one else has snuck in to use it before pulling you inside. All the once deafening noises become muffled behind the closed door, in a world far away from the one you found yourself in with Peter

The clicking of the handle’s lock being pressed clangs through your body, making your eyes widen. Was this what he actually wanted from you? You chewed on your lip, debating the situation in your head in an instant

But once he looks at you, he explains with a sort of breathlessness you haven’t heard from him before. “I just didn’t want to have some drunk couple trying to get it on while we’re talking, I didn’t mean to imply…”

Seeing him as the one flustered for once, his cheeks flushed as he tries to ensure you weren’t uncomfortable brings a surge of something – pride, softness, pure happiness in this uninterrupted moment – to your chest

“Makes sense,” you say, sitting down on his bed, taking another sip of your drink to soothe an ache in your throat… trying to soothe the pulsing that Peter seems to pinprick your body with

“Want another drink?” he asks, gesturing his head to the cup you hold

“I’m okay.” You shake your head, a smile rising across your face. “I’ll have to pay you back for another drink then,” you joke

“You never had to pay me back for the first one,” he says, walking in long strides to sit next to you, the mattress dipping with his weight and pulling your body closer to his

A tightness creeps up your throat, unsure where this comes from as you say, “What excuse would I have had to see you then?” You hope the giddiness, your frayed nerves, don’t show on your face

But he’s staring so intently at you from only a few inches away that he has to notice. But he doesn’t point it out, only whispering, “Let me take you out, sweetheart”

If it weren’t for the dull beats of the music and shouting voices coming from below, you would worry that Peter could hear your heart hammering throughout your body or the hard swallow that scratches its way down

Maybe he does hear it because now he’s only a breath apart from you. Softly, you whisper, “Then we’d have to go on another date so I can repay you”

Still closer now, you’re able to pick out the shimmering specks of color adorning his eyes, and you’d spend as long as he’d allow committing each and every one to memory

Against your lips, he mutters, “Oh, wouldn’t that be a real shame”

You aren’t sure when your hand found its way to his hand pressed into the mattress next to your hip or when it creeped up to his forearm, but it seems every inch of yourself magnetically pulls to him in the most addicting way

Even still, his eyes flick between yours and your mouth – now parted in shallow breaths – with his eyebrows raised, silently asking you the question your body is practically begging from him

At the weak nods you gave him, he asks, “Yeah?”

Your nods turned excited, desperate, as you whispered back, “Yes”

Surging forward, his lips are on yours, his hands pressing down against the fabric of your clothes, his chest pushing yours back. Like he can’t get close enough to you, not in this moment or ever

But the little noise that erupts in the back of your throat satisfies him enough as you lean until your back is flush against his bed and body over yours, his mouth moving as his tongue dips past his teeth and against your bottom lip

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, a push and pull between your bodies, when he tilts his head back. As his forehead’s resting against yours, ragged breaths filling the space between you and a spreading warmth filling an empty space between your ribs, you smile

You smile until your cheeks hurt and he’s grinning back at you – like he’s content not being in on the joke, or maybe just that he knows the exact reason why you’re so happy because it’s the same reason he is

And you let him take you out on that date, with a promise to pay him back with another

--

@reidslovely​

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 21

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

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, language, mentions of Hydra experimentation, moderate violence, Steve Rogers definitely not being jealous.

✦ Word Count: 9.4k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Author’s Note: Uh...hey. How's it going? I'm just visiting as it was. For anyone who might be totally unaware, I've been away for almost a year now. At the beginning of 2023, my partner experienced a near fatal injury and well, life has kind of revolved around that for some time. He's physically healing, I'm emotionally and mentally healing and life is finally moving along once again.

Consider this me dipping my toes into writing once again. Maybe not regular updates, but a start. The majority of this chapter has been sitting in my drafts since, god, November of last year? As a spur of the moment kind of thing, I decided to reread the entire story earlier today and felt determined enough to maybe add to it once again. And... here we are. Anyway, back to the story <3

[Master List]

Steve finds himself in one of the several glassed-in conference rooms in the tower with Tony and Hill - only a few hours after Natasha was cleared by Dr. Cho. The billionaire looks like he’d rather be doing anything other than this. Most likely wishing he could be back in his precious lab, studying the scepter for all its worth before it was returned to its rightful home.

He closes the door behind him, eyeing the laptop on which Maria is typing, “Said you got a lead?”

She hums in soft acknowledgment, eyes scanning something on the screen before she finally gives him her attention. Tony rocks back in his chair, feet crossed at the ankle on the adjacent seat. Steve remains standing at the end of the table.

Images appear on the whiteboard behind her as she begins her report, “It took us two hours to bypass the corrupted files and the top-of-the-line encryption - ”

“No thanks to JARVIS,” Tony adds quickly, with a knowing smirk.

She nods, but otherwise ignores the comment, “We’re looking at roughly thirty years of backlog.”

Steve watches the images on the projection switch between the scepter, schematics, and patient files. Jesus.

“You were on the right track, Captain. Strucker wasn’t just using that thing for weapons - though we have at least a good amount of information on the weaponry he successfully made. But I believe your interest was focused on the containment cells?”

It’s at that moment that you and Clint walk in, offering an apologetic nod as you take a seat beside Tony. You lean forward almost immediately when you see what’s on the screen - an image taken just earlier today of the mangled cell block.

The screen changes to two prisoner files marked PATIENTIENT 4.1and PATIENT 4.2. Admittedly, his German isn’t as good as it used to be during the war, so he fumbles through the article with little to no comprehension.

“Anyone get that?” Clint gestures at the screen, an incredulous expression on his face.

Before Hill can even bring up the translation, you’re muttering out, “They… they weren’t experimented on. The scepter, it wasn’t - ”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, eyes narrowing at the files as if he could somehow understand the foreign words now.

“Is there any language you don’t speak?” Tony whirls around in his seat to stare at you instead; totally missing the point.

“Jedek, Sentinelese, and Mudbara to name a few,” you answer levelly, before craning your head back to look at Steve and then over to Clint. “It says Patients 4.1 and 4.2 were entered into their program in 2005 - ”

Hill nods, the projection changing over to a set of images - body parts being measured and cataloged. They looked surprisingly small - skin stretched tight over the bones of a forearm, a calf, and a shockingly skeletal spine.

Children. He was looking at the images of two children that HYDRA had taken in.

Gritting his teeth, he manages to get out a sharp, “What else?”

Maria takes over then, back to more pages of files, “They were part of a series of off-the-record adoptions, during the country’s last civil war. People went missing by the hundreds back then. The official death count is still incomplete from the time. But it appears that individuals like Strucker were using the war to their benefit.”

The screen is flooded with images then, hundreds of people - primarily children, he notes with a sour turning of his stomach and the clenching of his fist at his side.

“And he was what, using the scepter like he was playing at God?” Barton scoffs with a bitter tone.

Steve is reminded then of the fact that if anyone understood the gravity of the scepter and the capability of its power in the wrong hands, it would in fact be Clint Barton.

Hill’s lips form a thin line, “For some, yes.”

“But not these two?” Tony fills in, twirling a pen between his fingers.

“Why?” Steve questions, unable to pull his gaze away from the new blurred image of a dark-haired girl, no older than eight - her eyes wide as she’s seemingly forced into a position for the camera.

It’s then that you lean forward in your chair, squinting at the file next to the girl’s picture before you rock back in your seat - “They were showing abilities on their own accord?”

And then the bombshell drops.

“This is their DNA structure against the typical human’s - ” In the center of the table, a blue holographic projection is displayed. Two double helixes slowly rotate alongside one another.

For all his aptitude, Steve can’t spot the immediate difference between the two. But you and Tony surely latch onto it quick enough. Leaning over the table, the billionaire swipes his hand at the helix on the left and instantly increases its size.

“What the hell is that?” Tony wonders out loud, turning the helix with his fingers.

It’s only then that Steve notices the strange strand near the center of the structure. It’s forked, compared to the other relatively straight branches. Almost spiked in its appearance.

“They called it the X gene, in the official reports,” Hill supplements.

“Which did what, exactly?” Tony asks, eyes still focused on the hologram.

She clears her throat for a moment, before saying, “From what we understand from their reports, these two individuals had naturally occurring inhuman powers on a previously unheard-of level.”

Everyone’s attention falls on her, and the silence lingers.

“Superpowered humans whose abilities can be traced back only to their own mutated DNA.”

Tony looks between the screen, the hologram, and then Steve.

“Shit. You’re saying these things can just pop up now, yeah? Any random person could get some kind of unnatural ability?”

“We have to look into it further, obviously - and if we were able to run the appropriate tests - ”

“What happened to them?” you ask, standing slowly. Clarifying only a moment later when you’re met with blank stares. “The file says they were still there when we breached the fortress. And yet we didn’t find anyone there that wasn’t already in a body bag in the morgue.”

She gives a tight nod, flicking off the presentation, “We have eyes on the city.”

“Do we even know what they look like? Let alone their intentions,” Tony questions, leaning away from the table and tapping the pen for a moment against his leg.

Hill shakes her head, “No. But we have a limited age range and a general profile to work with. And two people who were held captive for most of their lives will display a unique range of responses and choices. One slip, and we’ll find them. But if they were able to escape Strucker’s fortress on their own accord - ”

Tony seems unimpressed as he nods, walking backward for a moment as he says, “Keep me looped.”

You step forward to speak to Maria as the billionaire leaves - probably back to his lab. Clint stands up with a tired stretch.

“How’s she holding up?” Steve asks gently as the archer moves around the table.

The blonde smiles fondly, shaking his head, “You know, Nat, man. She doesn’t do bed rest for shit. I’m bribing her with coffee and I got Thor keeping her company right now.”

“Keeping her from escaping, you mean?” you turn back towards them with a knowing smile.

Clint chuckles, “Something like that.”

Steve nods, watching as he takes his leave then, waiting around for you to finish up with Maria. He recalled how rattled you had been that day upon discovering the cells. To finally have an answer to that giant unknown - well, Steve just wanted to see how you were holding up after it all.

Your brows raise marginally as you see him still standing there, but the two of you walk out into the quiet hallway together as Maria packs up her things, stepping in sync as you head for the elevator to the private quarters.

“So…” he starts, still processing the whole meeting in his head.

“So, naturally occurring superpowers,” you agree with a disbelieving shake of your head.

He shares your shock, glancing over at the curiously downturned expression on your lips. And here he thought the weirdest thing science had ever turned out was him. But in a world of literal Gods and billionaires with time and money to spend, Steve probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was.

“It makes me wonder,” you say as you stop at the metal doors of the elevator, “If this is the first instance of the mutation - if something in their specific genetics can be traced back to this. Or… or if this could be a totally random human mutation.”

The bell dings gently as the doors slide open and the two of you enter.

Steve just shakes his head, “I have no idea.”

You hum in quiet contemplation. The doors swish shut after a moment and Steve presses the button for the appropriate floor before stepping back, eyeing you out of his peripheral. Your curiosity was like a burning ember, he could see it growing by the second and it made him smile - seeing that thirst for answers, for knowledge, so clear on your face.

“They were seemingly random too - not necessarily connected powers or even all that similar really,” you turn to face him, eyes narrowed as you seem to work through everything out loud, “The male prisoner had an increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. And the girl had neuroelectrical interfacing, telekinesis, and mental manipulation.”

Slowly he turns to face you, peering down into your energized eyes with a look of confusion clearly plastered upon his own.

With one glance up at him, you specify, “He moves incredibly fast and she can move things with her mind. The grooves on the floor, the deformed cell bars. It’s kind of unbelievable, right?”

Steve offers a look of consideration as he nods toward the now-opening doors. The two of you exit onto the pristine floor of the personal living quarters for the team.

“Have you ever seen something like this before?” he asks, glancing over at you as the two of you pass the closed door to Dr. Banner's room.

“Not like this. Gods and other immortals, sure. Gamma radiation accidents and one notable serum-enhanced super soldier,” your eyes turn playful as you look over at him - he returns the expression with a smile of his own. “But never naturally occurring human mutation, no.”

“Tony's gonna have a field day,” he sighs, at last, coming to a stop just beside the door to the room the billionaire had forced upon you.

As if he wasn't already deep in the research pool with the scepter. Once Thor returned it to its rightful home, Stark would eagerly be jumping on the opportunity to explore the mutated genome for all its worth.

You make a thoughtful humming sound as you seem to register just where you are now, peering back at the door.

“Hey, uhm,” Steve clears his throat as he looks over at you, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You're going to the party tomorrow night, right?”

That pulls your attention as you look back at him with a gentle smile, “Yeah, he roped me into it. Told me to call up some friends to come along. He wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, that sounds about right for Stark.”

“Doesn't even matter that I have no one to invite along. Honestly, what does he think I do in my spare time to warrant friendships like that?”

The words themself seem disheartening but you're chuckling despite it.

He offers a grin of his own, “Seems to be a mutually shared problem.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, a sparkle of warmth within the depths of your irises.

“Yeah,” you breathe out gently. And then your hand grabs hold of the door handle and you push back with your weight to open it a crack. “Well, maybe I can scour my contacts for someone. And if all else fails, you could always call up Sharon?”

There's a hopeful lilt to your voice, one that Steve, unfortunately, has to dampen.

“She's on assignment right now. Probably won't be stateside for another month.”

Your lips form a gentle ahh, “I'm sure you'll think of someone by then.”

Seeing a chance appearing in front of him, Steve gulps down his anxious nerves. Natasha had said to be blunt after all.

“Or… I could just take… you.”

With a surprised blink, your lips curve up into a breathtaking smile that nearly sends him reeling.

“Sure, Rogers. Though Sam might be a little jealous of me taking his wingman away.”

Relief swims through his belly as he rocks back on his heels, unable to contain his smile, “I'm sure he'll get over it.”

The lab is thrumming with energy when you come to check in on the two scientists who, by the looks of it, haven’t left the room since at least the day before - if not longer. Settling in on one of the spare stools alongside an abandoned workbench, you watch them work - flicking between screens and running computations that are basically incomprehensible to you.

“How may I assist you?”

“Cronus!” you startle as the bot seems to materialize next to you.

Unlike the rest of the Iron Legion, this particular bot has a drawn-on smile on its mouthpiece, crudely done in a lopsided Sharpie scrawl. Along with two wonky curved eyebrows above the visual optics.

“Oh, hey, Your Highness,” Tony calls out, not even looking away from the new set of schematics in front of him.

Bruce gives a little wave of his own.

“No need for assistance,” you inform the drone, watching the digitized glowing eyes seemingly blink before it walks back to the corner of the lab from which it came.

From across the room, you hear the billionaire give a slightly defeated damn it before he looks up and seems to decide that you’re far more interesting - striding across the room until he’s leaning against the workbench next to you.

“Have I mentioned how unnerving those things are?”

He glances back at the bot, “My Legion, you mean?”

You hum in agreement, “I mean, I understand that you gave up the suit and this was the next logical step. But you couldn’t have made them a bit more… friendly?”

His lips form a challenging grin, “I’ll have you know that the Ultron line of toys are currently at the top of everyone's Christmas wishlist. And there’s an anime currently in the works inspired by my Legion. So, maybe it's just you and your slightly outdated ways.”

You blink in confusion, “Anime?”

“Seriously? How long have you been around here?”

With a strangled laugh, you look away, “A few thousand years, give or take. And I’ll have you know that my interests far outreach your capitalist hold on the franchise market.”

Tony stumbles back, a hand held to his heart, “Okay, ouch. I let you into my tower, offer you a room, and you call me a money-hungry capitalist?”

A shrug is all you offer him in return.

He gestures at Bruce with a pleading look in his eyes, looking for backup apparently. But the other scientist merely holds up his hands in a clear sign of not wanting to step into the fray.

“Okay, I’ll play,” he resigns, leaning his elbows on the workbench - watching you with a playful intensity. You can make out each ring under his eyes, the speckles of red veins in his tired expression.

“While I’ve been coming up with more and more exuberantly creative ways to fund this entire group operation, you’ve been doing what exactly?”

Turning on the seat to better address him, you state quite plainly, “Cleaning up SHIELD’s mess.”

“Which we’ve also been doing,” he shakes his head. “My question is: why haven’t you joined us on any of these little adventures?”

Admittedly, you kind of blank for a moment.

It was a legitimate question, considering you were doing nearly the exact same thing for the past year, just on your own. While you knew Steve had been silently tracking his long-lost friend during this time, you also were aware of the many raids he had partaken in with the team.

“I mean, even with this whole scepter business just about wrapped up, there’s still bases and terrorist cells out there. And since you’re already here - ”

“Anonymity,” you answer, suddenly.

Tony blinks, jerking his head back as you slowly and calmly press forward.

“I spent centuries being nothing more than a legend amongst your kind. I could come and go as I pleased. I worked for SHIELD while remaining almost entirely off their records. Yet one instance in New York and suddenly my identity was dragged into the open and now - ”

You gesture vaguely around the lab, “Now, I’m here and a part of a household name. I preferred it when it was just me doing the quiet work behind the scenes and not having my name and image on the news.”

“And lunchboxes and costumes and a few knock-off toys, to name a few other things, right?” Tony’s eyes flash with what you think is meant to be humor.

Your anger simmers and you offer him a tired, half-hearted smile, “It was an easier life when my name was only associated with museum pieces and ancient tales, yes.”

He nods thoughtfully, biting at his lip as he looks between you and Bruce.

“So… it’s a maybe?”

You shove his arm away, good-naturedly, “I’ll see you at your party tonight, Stark. You too, hopefully - ” you call over to Bruce.

The other man quirks his lips into a shy smile, “I’m not sure I have much of a choice in the matter.”

“You don’t!” Tony responds cheerily, eyes flickering over to you as you exit the lab. “Okay, let’s run it again, JARVIS, and see if we can keep the system from overloading this time.”

The party is in full swing now. The drinks have been flowing freely from the bar as comfortable music streams from the speakers. It’s a surprisingly casual affair for Tony’s standards - though the man is dressed in a three-piece suit. There’s a mix of colognes and perfumes and the sharp bitterness of alcohol in the air.

He hasn’t partaken in any of it, in all honesty. He’s on the precipice, waiting for your arrival.

Steve had done his best to hide his disappointment earlier in the day when you informed him that you would have to catch up with him at the party later.

“I’ve got to pick up some friends from the airport,” you had said, almost sheepish when you knocked on the door to his room.

And he had responded with a nonchalant of course, yeah, it’s no problem sort of answer. But now that the party had officially been going on for almost an hour, he couldn’t help but feel an anxious twinge in his side as he kept sweeping the room with his eyes - trying to find you in the crowd.

It’s not that he can’t socialize with the team, the veterans, or the other partygoers. It’s a completely different reason entirely that he keeps seeking you out amongst the celebration.

“So,” Sam knocks his elbow against Steve’s arm. “You find a place in Brooklyn yet?”

He gazes out over the atrium, knowing the well-recycled conversation was just Sam’s attempt at distracting him for another few minutes. While he had never explicitly spoken about his feelings towards you, it seemed it was apparently evident to just about everyone in his inner circle of friends - Sam and Natasha included.

“I’m not sure I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”

It was true. But like he had told you the other night, he didn’t all that mind staying at the Tower. It at least kept him busy when he wasn’t working on the missing person’s case with Sam. Everything had changed after the collapse of SHIELD and Steve hadn’t been particularly interested in going back to square one and attempting his shot at normalcy.

No, joining them on the HYDRA raids had been exactly what he needed.

The other man takes another swig of his drink, “Well, home is home, you know?”

Steve looks at him for a moment before he returns his gaze to the room - eyes not quite seeing the actual location itself. But lost in the beginning of an idea that his mind sometimes liked to dangle in front of him. Images of a possible future that didn’t seem all that unwelcoming - just a little improbable.

It’s only with the loud boisterous sound of Thor’s booming voice that he’s able to focus back on the party itself and, more importantly, on the three women who have just come up the stairs.

It’s like an immediate sucker punch to the gut as he takes you in. He’s not sure if he’s ever actually seen you in a dress before. But what a debut this is.

It’s very… Grecian, he’ll admit. Bathed in soft white fabric and glistening golden embellishments, you’re every bit a goddess as you make your way over to Thor - introducing your guests.

Steve finds himself literally muttering a silent wow to himself, feeling the uptick in his heartbeat and the sudden rush of warmth to his cheeks.

And then he’s clamping his hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Think I need a drink.”

The other man just chuckles into his glass, already knowing exactly where his attention has fallen for the rest of the night.

You can’t help but smile as Thor tugs the taller woman into a tight hug. The shorter of the two immediately backs up before he can grab hold of her.

“You’ve gotten bigger,” she states with an air of disinterest.

He chuckles, patting the other on the shoulder fondly, “Still using the same mystical illusions then?”

Sprite shrugs.

Her disguise is about five inches taller than her actual form and abnormally similar to the airport's gift shop cashier they had passed on the way out to meet you. With dark chestnut-colored hair and a pair of striking green eyes, she looked nothing like her usual self - but that was the entire point, of course.

“We’re trying to keep a low profile,” Sersi says gently, leveling Thor with a look that was filled with the expectation of continued secrecy.

It wasn’t every day two Eternals were invited to a Stark Tower party. But then again, only the two of you knew of their existence in the first place. A well-kept secret indeed.

He makes an understanding ahh sound, nodding your way, “Friends from work, then?”

“Yes, actually,” you tug Sersi’s hand into your own. “We worked together at the Louvre for two years.”

“And at the Acropolis Museum - ” she fills in.

“And the Natural History Museum in D.C. and - ”

“London and New York, yeah. We get it,” Sprite interrupts briskly, her attention drifting over to a young waiter with a tray full of champagne.

Sersi’s expression softens as she looks over at her companion, “And that’s our cue to get a drink. We’ll catch up later.”

She makes a valiant effort to pull Sprite away gracefully to a nice quiet corner while you look upon Thor in his crimson jacket and casually messy smoothed-back hair.

“I half expected to see you surrounded by your kind,” you admit.

He chuckles, eyes raking over the fit of your dress, “While it is no Asgardian revel, I must admit, I quite enjoy the company I have made here on Midgard.”

“Hmmm, I see.”

Your shoulder brushes against his upper arm as the two of you move through the crowd.

A glance across the room has you spotting Steve at the bar, conversing with Natasha and Clint. You want to make your way over to them, but you know how out of place Thor is in the room - much like yourself, honestly. You had never been one for parties, even back on Olympus - and they were frequent there. Not wanting to interrupt your companions' conversation at the bar, you remain with your fellow god.

“And when you speak of good company, I assume you are referring to your good lady? Dr. Foster?”

The way his brow creases as his lips form a thin line makes everything that much more abundantly clear, especially when the God of Thunder attempts to duck out of view to grab hors d'oeuvres from one of the caterers. He pops the caviar cracker in his mouth and immediately blanches, forcing himself to swallow it down and smile.

“Yes, of course. Very good, very… happy,” he nods, hands on his hips.

Taking pity on the poor man, you rest your hand upon his arm, “Odinson. I know you have been here far more often than you’d like to admit - ”

“Well,” he smirks, “Midgard is quite low on daring quests for someone such as myself to partake in. I seek leisure where I can.”

With an unsurprised huff, you say, gently, “If you were here for leisure, as you say, you would not be here with us, I believe.”

His shockingly blue eyes meet yours. An air of long-held familiarity passes between the two of you as the party around you continues on. It’s with a knowing look in your eyes that he has to force his own gaze away, coughing roughly into his fist.

“Ah, advice from the virginal goddess herself. Have you become an expert in the field of relationships, my Lady Athena?”

You release your hold on his arm, shyly rubbing at your own elbow as your eyes flit across the crowd.

“Hardly. But I’ve been around long enough to know these things, Thor. How long will you be away after you return the scepter?”

He sniffs indignantly, “I have been away from my home for a long time indeed. I feel it warrants an extended visit.”

Something in those eyes makes your heart clench, your features softening in intensity as it dawns on you. He was not spending time with Jane Foster because there was no longer a reason to do so. He wanted to be here. He desired to get away from that place and therefore that relationship.

The realization is heartbreaking, so you find yourself asking, “Are you okay?”

The god nearly balks at that, plastering on a very tight smile, “Wh-why would I not be? Come! We should have a drink to celebrate such an accomplishment!”

His arm wraps around your waist in an instant, his large hand covering the middle of your bare back - fingers splayed across your heated skin. If he did not want to ruin the evening with talk of his past love, then you certainly weren’t going to push the topic tonight.

“I swear if it’s anything like the terrible drink your kind used to have back in the day - ”

He beams, looking down at you as the two of you walk over to the railing overlooking the lower levels of the Tower.

“I come bearing only the best for such revelries - ” he grins, pulling an ornate flask from his open jacket, “And only for the closest of allies.”

Flicking the topper off, he holds it out for you. Taking a wary sniff, your eyes nearly bulge as you giggle a nervous sound.

“Cronus, help us all.”

Grabbing hold of the flask, you take a single swig of the fast-burning liquid, sputtering pensively as it runs down your throat. Voice turned hoarse as you wave it back his way, “See? Truly terrible. Your people have no concept of a good drink.”

Thor chuckles, taking a shot of the Asgardian liquor for himself before pocketing the flask once again, “For tonight only - and because I am in the presence of a friend - I shall try not to take personal offense to that.”

You give him a nod in return, eyes blazing with a playful challenge, “Do try that.”

Natasha, for all appearances, is fully healed up. She’s perched on the barstool, sipping on her red-tinted drink, eyes scanning the room when Steve approaches. Clint has a grounding hand on her waist as he talks to a man on the other side of her, though she doesn’t seem to mind the lack of attention. Settling her drink down on the counter, she smiles up at him sweetly.

“Well, well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Steve scoffs a quiet laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets as he glances over at you - your two friends seem to be familiar with Thor, or at least extrovertedly confident enough to greet him with a hug.

“You got cleared to drink?”

Nat waves a dismissive hand, “I’m Russian, this barely counts as alcohol. Though I see you’re not participating.”

He shrugs, eyes flickering back over to the four of you as the conversation with your friends seems to wrap up fairly quickly, leaving you alone with Thor.

“Doesn’t do any good with the serum, you know.”

She makes a soft hum of understanding, taking another sip of her drink as she watches him watching the two of you from across the room.

You were the point of his focus.

The soft draping of your dress seemed perfectly tailored to you, with its flutter sleeves and high neckline. The hem fell just above your knees, and as you turned to walk towards the balcony overlook, Steve felt the sudden tightening of his throat as his eyes fell to your back. It was fully exposed, save for the clinching collar at your neck and the guiding hand of the Asgardian whose fingers were resting far too low for Steve's liking.

Clint’s laughter pulls his attention back over to the bar, as he leans down to whisper something in Nat’s ear before dipping back into the crowd of people. Steve’s focus falls on the arrow-shaped necklace the assassin begins to fiddle with.

“If you were looking for a moment, Captain, now would be a good one.”

Sometimes, he found it unnerving how quickly Natasha could read a person down to their very core. Even after all of his time training and working for SHIELD and the STRIKE team, he had never managed to school his features away like they did. He was probably an open book for her abilities, whether he liked it or not.

With a sigh, he finally looks back over just in time to see Thor’s hand on your bare back, his head lowered down as you clutch something small and silver-colored in your hand. You’re laughing and even across the noise of the room, he can make it out with near clarity.

Natasha slides her finger along the rim of her glass, with a teasing, “Tick, tock.”

Pulling back his shoulders and forcing a purposeful breath from his lungs, Steve begins to weave his way through the crowd. He’s stopped one too many times for his patience, but he gives each person a polite and respectful greeting before apologizing and attempting to continue forward once again.

At last, he spots the bright white of your dress. He can even hear the tail end of your conversation above the low hum of the music playing on the speakers.

“ - probably best if you just... yeah. We’ll speak later.”

And only once he’s made his way through the last few party-goers, does Thor press past him with a tightly-lipped Captain in lieu of a greeting. Steve watches him go for just a moment before he focuses his attention back onto the person he had crossed the floor to see.

Your brow is furrowed and your voice cuttingly vicious as you eye two new strangers beside you.

“What in Cronus’ name are you doing here?”

A man with dark curls and a warm complexion merely rolls his eyes at you, “This is how we’re greeted.”

“Well, what did you expect?” You snip, eyes flashing something dangerous as you round on the taller man. “A hug and a kiss? I mean... you can’t just come here and expect – ”

“A warm welcome?”

Steve’s gaze falls to the shorter of the two – still a hair taller than you of course. His grin is worryingly bright, forced, but not sinister. Steve takes a step forward.

The movement alone drags your attention away from the men and the tension on your face seems to dissipate with relief when your eyes lock in on him.

“Steve,” you plead gently, extending your hand out for him.

Unsure of what exactly he has stepped into, he grips his belt and stares straight ahead at the two visitors – only after giving you a quick glance.

“Captain Rogers,” you say with a hint of salt. “May I introduce my brothers.”

He knows his brows have risen in surprise as he refocuses on the men.

The dark-haired one, with the thin beard, sneers down at them both. While the shorter of the pair, decked out in a plum-colored velvet jacket, offers a more comforting smile. But Steve’s reassurance wains when he reaches out and grabs hold of your shoulder – trying to steer you away from him.

“Pleasure, of course. But we need to speak with our dear sister.”

You grip the man’s hand and yank his wrist back in a clear warning.

“And if you decided to seek me out in such a public place, clearly you give little care to who may be around to hear what you intend to say.”

A very clear I’m staying where I am. Steve almost wants to smile with pride as he crosses his arms over his chest and gazes down at you. Not a sign of fear or trepidation lies on your face when you shoot him a quick look.

The taller of the two sighs. Dropping his arms, he reaches into his wheat-colored pant pocket and pulls out something that glints in the ambient lighting. While he takes hold of the silver chain, a small locket slips to the bottom – dangling in the air beneath his fingers.

“A gift.”

Steve’s eyes instinctively trail to your face – curious what your reaction will be. But your expression remains resolutely blank.

Flipping the locket into the palm of his hand, your brother carefully flicks open the silver cover to reveal a gentle flickering orange flame.

If he were able to look away from it, Steve would have seen the near-gasp of surprise on your lips.

“You’ve been away, ‘Thena,” your other brother says gently. “For far too long.”

With a twist of his wrist, the locket snaps shut and Steve’s gaze rises to the dark eyes of the other man.

“A message, I give to you, dear sister. Goddess of Wisdom.”

Extending his hand out, the locket dangling precariously between the two of you, Steve watches as your fingers carefully wrap around the item – slipping the chain from your brother’s fingers until the piece of jewelry is safely secured in your own hand.

Leaning in close, ducking his head down to almost your ear, the taller of the two harshly whispers, “Uti prudenter.”

When he pulls back, your eyes harden and Steve swears a flicker of gold shines there for just a moment. Staring up at the man in question, you ask, “What have you seen?”

“Nothing but what is to come.”

You snort indignantly, tossing the locket in your hand for a moment of thought.

“How ever helpful, Hermes.”

He crosses his arms, sparing you a calculated look.

“I’m not the god of visions, am I?”

“Only a carrier of precious flames, is that right?”

Holding out his palm, as if to say well, give it back then. You hold the locket closer to your chest, turning your shoulder toward Steve, making the man smirk.

“As I thought.”

With a hmph, you watch as he disappears through the small crowd before descending the stairs. Your other brother watches on for a moment before giving you a small, albeit sheepish, smile.

“Be careful.”

At that, your features soften a hair. Raising a brow at him, you ask, “Aren’t I always?”

A sharp laugh escapes from his lips as he steps forward to wrap you into a quick, tight, hug. One that you quickly accept.

“Never.”

Without a parting word, he too follows the steps of your other sibling and heads down the stairs. You stare on for a moment longer, glancing down at the locket in your hand before at last you turn those brilliant eyes toward him.

“Family reunions, am I right?”

He can’t help but chuckle at that.

With a soft sigh, you lean against the banister behind you, encouraging him to do the same as he falls into place on your left. His eyes have a hard time trailing away from that silver-chained locket though, still sitting in your palm.

“They never travel this way,” you explain. “Must be important. Probably on word from the Fates.”

His curiosity piques ever more, but one question seems to fall into place at the forefront of his mind.

“And that flame... was that...?”

Your eyes lift from the necklace to meet his pointed gaze.

“The Promethean Flame, yes. Or an extension of it, at least.”

Giving another sigh, your fingers pull open the latch before you tilt your head to the side. Your hair cascades over your right shoulder as you pull the chain around your neck – clasping the lock together – before you gaze down at the heavy locket now resting against your bosom.

“You know that when I’m away from Olympus for too long, my powers weaken. My body grows more prone to suffering as a typical human would. This, I imagine - ” you take hold of the plain-faced locket, staring at it as though it’s a puzzle to answer, “May keep me from experiencing too great an injury.”

Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, Steve says, “For your sake, let’s hope so.”

Your warm eyes trail upward to meet his gaze and a curved smile befalls your sweet lips.

There’s a faint feeling of warm inebriation now running through his veins – having partaken in one or two sips from Thor’s special flask. He uses that reason, and that alone, for the lazy arm he has resting on the couch behind you. His whole body flushes as you turn your head toward him – laughing at something Clint had said just a moment ago. Your left shoulder brushes against his bare forearm and he grins in return – not having heard a single sound above the ringing of your laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Clint’s saying – twirling a pair of drumsticks on the floor beside Maria.

Tony raises a brow in return, “Why would I lie about that? No, I had a rep from Ben & Jerry’s literally here before this whole scepter business blew up. They want to make a whole line of flavors around us.”

Your head lolls to the side, a tired smile tugging at your lips. He can feel the gentle bobbing of your pointed heel against his calf, though you don’t seem to notice as you glance back at the man to your right – saying something soft and apparently funny in nature to Thor who barks a laugh in return.

“What’d ya say, Cap?” Tony grabs his attention. “Up for a little rendezvous with apple pie and other such iconic flavors.”

Steve just shakes his head in return.

“ - yes, a solid rum flavor would do you well,” he hears you say to the other God.

“And for you?” Thor muses playfully. “What shall it be?”

Before you can even conjure up a reply, Steve finds himself saying, “Honey.”

Your sharp gaze turns to him and immediately a smile blossoms across your features.

“Honey, strawberries, and a touch of cream. You know me well, Rogers.”

Steve shrugs in return, secretly pleased with himself for anticipating such an answer and for turning your attention away from the other man for just a moment more.

Somehow talk of ice cream flavors and brand deals gives way to a more interesting topic of conversation amongst the group in only a matter of minutes.

“But it’s a trick,” Clint bemoans.

Thor smiles in a pleased fashion as he passes along the silver flask from you and then onto Steve who quickly knocks back another shot of the fiery liquid.

“No, no, it’s much more than that.”

He can feel the curl of your fingers around his hand when he hands back the container and his eyes fall to the small patch of uncovered skin above your knee – your white dress having risen slightly higher as you lean back against the warm cushions.

“Ah, whoever he be worthy shall have the power!” Clint exclaims, holding his hands out toward the hammer resting on the coffee table. “Whatever, man. It’s a trick!”

“Please, be my guest.”

Thor gestures at Mjolnir and silence seems to befall the group for just a moment as everyone’s attention pinpoints on the infamous hammer. There’s a second of silence as Clint seems to take in the words.

“Come on. Really?”

“Yeah.”

To his right, he can hear Rhodey sigh, “Oh, this is gonna be beautiful.”

Even you turn your attention to the archer now as he approaches the legendary weapon.

“You know I’ve seen this before, right?”

At Thor’s nod, he grips the handle and attempts to pull. But it doesn’t even budge a millimeter as he grunts with the effort. With an incredulous laugh, he draws his hand away, shaking his head.

“I still don’t know how you do it!”

“Smell the silent judgment?”

Glancing across the room, Clint offers his hand out to the billionaire.

“Please, Stark. By all means.”

With his typical air of arrogance, Tony lifts from the couch beside Rhodey and plucks open the button on his suit jacket. Steve leans back beside you and watches with glistening amusement as he rounds the table.

“Never one to shrink from an honest challenge. It’s physics.”

He takes a moment to wrap the leather strap around his wrist, preparing his hold as he looks toward the God in question.

“Right, so, if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?”

Thor, unsurprisingly calm, responds, “Yes. Of course.”

Steve covers his mouth with his fist, already anticipating the likely outcome.

With two solid tugs and a few bitten grunts, Tony releases the strap �� a sudden look of determination overcoming his features, as he says, “I’ll be right back.”

As he wanders off, much to the hooted badgering from Clint and Rhodey, Steve catches the familiar look you share with Thor. You lean into the other’s side, nudging his arm with your elbow as you whisper something too soft for even the super soldier’s ears.

Arriving back with a piece of a suit, Tony attempts the feat again. And, when that ultimately fails, he has Rhodes following after him to grab a part of War Machine’s armor. That attempt also fails – rather spectacularly as your sweet laughter fills his ears.

There’s also an attempt made by Bruce and Sam. The latter grunts with the effort before ducking his head down with a laugh.

“Man, I don’t know how you do this.”

And then he feels the gentle pressure of your arm against his elbow. When his gaze trails away from Sam, he meets your heated expression.

“Steve?” you softly goad.

What more can he do than roll back his sleeves and rise to the challenge?

“Go ahead, Steve. No pressure,” Tony drawls, still in defeat over his own failed attempt.

Sam gives him a warm slap to the shoulder as he passes.

“Come on, Cap,” Barton encourages.

Staring down at the hammer, he fixes his gaze upon the engraved runic wording. Physics had failed Tony, sheer force of will failed Clint. Maybe if he just...

Wrapping his hands around the handle, he offers you a quick glance – catching your watchful stare – before he pulls back with all of his might. He swears, for just a second, that he can feel it budge, but when he looks down... nothing.

Holding his hands up in defeat, a smile on his face, he catches the biting laugh from Thor as the other man shakes his head.

“Nothing!”

Steve presses past the two of you before taking his seat once more. You give him a solidary pat on the shoulder and a gently murmured tough luck, Cap. Someone clears their throat and Banner gestures his hands towards Natasha.

“And... Widow?”

Realization crosses her features as she leans back with a too-obvious smile.

“Oh, no, no. That’s not a question I need answered.”

Drawing their attention to the last remaining member of the team, Steve’s eyes fall upon you. Too busy watching the moment unfold with Romanoff, you’re suddenly staring at the group of them before also laughing – holding your hands up in pure dismissal.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Tony goads in an instant. “If there was anyone who could manage a feat of godly power...”

“Out of the question.”

This time, it’s Thor’s daunting timber that speaks.

Steve knows he’s not the only one curious by the sudden change in format as all eyes seem to fall on the God himself. Thor stiffens, fingers clutching his glass as he peers over at you for just a second.

“That’s not something that can be done,” you say in slow calculated words. “We will never wield one another’s weapons.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Tony immediately inquires.

Your nervous expression pauses on Steve for just a moment, as if needing strength for whatever conversation was suddenly unraveling. Your knee presses against his outer thigh and he immediately pushes back in return.

“Can’t, obviously,” Thor sniffs, gazing at the contents of his amber drink before taking a healthy drink of it. And then his dark eyes fall upon you, “Show them.”

Sparing the other God a heated glance, you stand up at once – your dress falls back in place with a careful draping of soft white fabric as you brush past Thor’s spread knees – taking your spot before the hammer.

Shooting a look at the accompanying group, you reach your hand out towards the weapon in question – just for a sharp bluish-white zap of lightning to arch out and singe the end of your fingertips. Pulling away with a sharp hiss of discomfort, you bring your digits up to your lips and gently suck at the burned flesh.

“See?” Thor drawls.

And then a light seems to glow in your eyes, a new wave of confidence, as you say with a teasing tone, “Fair is fair.”

Tossing your hand up into the air – a ray of golden light stretches down from the ceiling as your shield materializes in your hand. You hold the Aegis close to your side – looking ever so much like the fictional Goddess of legend that you were.

Steve’s fully, hopelessly, entranced.

Thor actually shrinks away from the object in question – digging himself further into the corner of the couch cushions as though he could vanish into them.

“No mortal man can wield such an item and I do not wish to try.”

Clint barks a laugh, “Come on! Like the lady said, fair is fair. Own up!”

The shield seems surprisingly light in your hand – though even Steve knows that appearances are entirely deceiving, having been in a position to use it on more than one occasion.

But with keen interest, everyone watches as the God of Thunder slowly rises to his feet. His hand reaches out, then pulls away, before he grits his teeth and finally goes for the strap of the inner handle.

You slip your hand away until you’re just barely holding it up at all. Thor’s fingers curl alongside yours for just a moment before you pull away entirely and –

BANG

“Fuck!” Barton hollers.

Thor screeches as the shield connects with the floor – splintering the wood – as the Aegis just barely grazes the toe of his shoe. He leaps back as if burned, though clearly he suffers from nothing more than burnt pride.

But Steve’s attention falls on the beaming smile on your face.

“Anyone for a go?” you ask cheerfully.

“Absolutely not.”

“Enough bruised ego for one day.”

And then your eyes cross over the group to meet the super soldier’s, a knowing glint in your warm expression as you ask, “Steve?”

Returning the grin, and feeling a bit prideful in the fact that he presses past a somber-looking Thor, Steve leans down and pulls the Aegis free from it’s temporary holding place in Tony’s floor – offering the shield back to you with little more than an uncomfortable twinge of discomfort from the sheer weight of the item.

“Thank you,” you smooze, taking hold of the shield once again and allowing it to lift up into the air and back to its home of origin.

There’s a moment that passes, between the two of you then, where a silent understanding almost occurs, but it’s immediately lost to the sharp ringing of a mechanical sound across the room. Steve’s hands fly to his ears as he cringes away from the noise.

Just as fast as the ringing occurred, it’s gone in an instant. But the sound of something metal upon the floor grabs everyone’s attention. Steve feels himself stepping closer to your side as you all look on at the metal bot that staggers out of the lab.

“Worthy? How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

He takes a breath, unsure of what exactly he’s seeing, but trusting it no more than he did SHIELD or any other faction he had found himself up against in the past three years.

“Stark.”

“Jarvis.”

“I’m sorry, I was asleep,” The mangled bot continues, glancing around – almost unseeing – at the room. “Or I was a dream.”

Tony’s pulled out a device and is speaking into it, but Steve can hardly look away from the sight before him – before them all. As the bot twists and turns, unsteady on its feet. Wires hang from its body like dangling tendons and veins, it holds a hand to its head as if in pain.

“- there was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in... in... strings. Had to kill the other guy,” the bot waves its hand in fleeting reference. “He was a good guy. But down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor demands.

The electronic voice of Tony Stark then plays out for them all to hear.

“I see a suit of armor around the world.”

Beside him, Athena barely breathes out, “Ultron.”

The bot fixes her with a glowing blue-eyed look and Steve stiffens.

“In the flesh. Or... no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

Hill clocks the hammer on her gun, staring down the bot, “What mission?”

“Peace in our time.”

And then, as if fixing its look on one person in particular, the bot’s thrusters come to life and it surges forward – hand open – as it grabs hold of Tony and careens out the window.

Steve lurches forward, rushing to the shattered glass as the malfunctioning robot grips the billionaire by the neck over the bustling city street many stories below them all. Tony digs into the arms of the creature, his feet dangling, kicking uselessly for purchase.

Turning his attention toward the group now circling the open space, the bot seems to sneer.

“Look at you. The very ideal of peace-keeping. But what are you really?”

The bot soars closer, not enough to be within full reach. And Steve knows that any attempt at disarming it will bring Tony’s safety into immediate question. He can do nothing more than stare on in disturbed wonder as the robot begins lecturing them.

“Your very existence is a threat to peace. Agent Romanoff and Barton, the two gallivanting criminals.”

Its mechanical eyes rove across the group, landing on the person standing to his left. Your chin juts out in defiance. The robot chortles.

“And the Gods from another realm. How much destruction can you cause with just a flick of your mighty finger? Of course, your faith in humanity’s greatest threat is of grave concern to any being with a twinge of intelligence.”

A pointed metal finger singles out Doctor Banner, who shrinks away from them all – nervous glances shared – as he ducks his head down.

“Captain America, himself.”

Steve’s hardened gaze refuses to be moved by the bot as it focuses all of its attention on him.

“So locked in your ideals, Captain. But at what cost? Unwilling to compromise for something you believe in. Endangering the entire planet at the cost of a ghost.”

A surge of discomfort lashes up inside of him and Steve can’t help but look away – if only to catch your equally concerned eye.

“And you - ” At last, the bot jerks Tony away – giving the man no secure hold beside the arm extending him out to his doom. “Anthony Stark. A man so obsessed with making amends for his past, that you end up causing more harm than good.”

Tony struggles, his face turning red as he puffs out desperate breaths.

The bot turns toward them with the most menacing look a robot could ever give.

“This group – this team. You put the world at large at risk. Every argument, every guilt trip, and jab will lead to your failure. Where I was created to see the world as it is. How it should be. The ultimate global peacekeeper.

In an instant, the wall behind the bar explodes as three similar robots shoot out towards the group.

Tony is all but tossed toward them, landing in a curled heap beside Rhodey and Clint – panting out a worrying series of breaths before he manages to stand and call out to the Legion’s operating system.

Gunshots ring out, the heavy metallic clunk of Thor’s hammer making contact with something equally dense, shattered glass, and the shrill cry of Helen Cho meets his ears as he pushes forward. Leaping over the glass banister, Steve lands atop a silver bot, yanking back on its head with all his might as it tries to slam him into the wall.

It succeeds, with the second blow, as he tumbles down onto the floor – broken glass shards dig into his palm as he tries to steady himself.

“Cap!”

Sam’s voice rings out across the room as a shield is tossed his way.

Using a chair for a weapon, you manage to knock away another bot from Dr. Cho’s reach – sending it back into Thor’s hammer. Steve swivels in time to catch the shoulder joint of another robot, bringing the shield down on its back with some relief as the bot splutters out electrical shocks before ultimately disengaging.

Looking up from the remnants of the mayhem, his chest heaving and his hands gripped into tight fists, Steve watches as Tony takes a heavy step back from the initial mangled-looking bot as it presses further into the room.

“That was dramatic.”

Steve spares you a glance as he tightens his grip on the shield.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean well. But this... this team will never work. You will be humanity’s downfall. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to... evolve?”

Glancing down at one of its fallen comrades, the bot kicks the side of its head – the steel faceplate gives way, revealing the wires and mechanisms that lie underneath.

“With these? These puppets?”

It looks back upon them all.

“There’s only one path to peace,” it stares at Tony then. “The Avengers’ extinction.”

And then the bot shatters with the might of Thor’s hammer.

“I had strings, but now I’m free...” The bot drowns for just a moment longer before its lights dim and the entire thing grows silent.

Stepping forward, Steve stares down at the last remaining pieces of the mangled robot before his full fury turns toward the billionaire resting on the glass steps with another torn-apart robot beside him.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[nondienary]

i saw this post sharing designs of the infinights in GL2 and it inspired me to share my own! enjoy (i guess)

and obligatory spoilery rambling warning because character design makes me so happy

starting off strong with kyborg!

details i enjoy- his blue hairties and gold ear cuff are inspired by the ones he has in the picture on the home page of the stinky dragon wiki. im especially happy with the ear cuff because it turned out way better than i expected.

i also really like the arm (and yes i know he doesnt have the diagem in it anymore but it needed some pizazz! said pizazz made me temporarily hate myself because it used up his 4th face accessory slot but i don't even remember what other face accessory i wanted for him anymore :P)

also his boots. idk why but i like them

his hair!! i went through a bunch of styles and chose this one and i'm glad i did because this is a pretty accurate representation of how i imagine his hair, including the color! his mom was a redhead so ya boi is a strawberry blond (ish)

details i do NOT enjoy- the fact that gl2 doesnt have a hip quiver :( because i had to add the quiver to his back but that took up his second cape slot so he couldnt have his cloak of many fashions. and also even if i could give it to him w the back quiver i would still want a hip quiver because i imagine him with a hip quiver! because you can't do somersaults barrel rolls with a quiver on your back!

anyway

i probably should have made these separate posts but oh well you signed up for rambling and rambling is what you get!

next up: mudd!

loml

details i enjoy: his cloak, i spent ages on it because i was overthinking what to do with his cloak of billowing vs his cloak of the secret garden (?) but i'm very happy with what i settled on

the detail in the undercut drove me crazy because again, characters are limited to 4 cace accessory and i was using one for the runes in the undercut. which i obviously changed but that brought me so much pain and misery /lh

im so happy with how his face, especially his eyes turned out because again, i struggled with them for some time. but now his face is SO perfect. except the lack of sideburns.. maybe something with the side hairs? i keep forgetting that's an option in this game

the little daisy earring. spur of the moment addition, so glad i did it.

details i do NOT enjoy: his outfit :( for all the others i knew what i was going for but with mudd i had no clue other than the cloak. it's based off his puppet outfit because i legitimately couldn't think of what he'd wear. i like the shoes and choice of belt but between this and the sideburns mudd is definitely next in line for a redesign

ok someone who was just redesigned is gum gum!

details i enjoy: his face. that is such a gum gum face. wish i couldve added bigger tusks though. and the lil smudge of dirt on his cheek!!!

silly almost easter egg i added is that each of the colors of the rainbow is in his design at least once because dia's whole thing is rainbows and light and stuff. at first i just had it in the accessories and his whole outfit was blue pretty much but i looked at bart after completing all the accessories and i was like GODDAMMIT he has all the colors. and it's actually incorporated into the outfit AND it looks really good.

the fact that vee and i both designed his hat nearly exactly the same completely independently of each other is so epic.

i originally came up with the shoulder flower while working on mudd but i was like "oh wait gum gum's the flowers guy mudd's the animals guy." and gave it to him instead. and i'm very glad i did it fills in that space in the cloak very well.

speaking of the cloak, i very much enjoy it

things i do NOT enjoy:

honest, nothing comes to mind! maybe it's because he was the most recent to get revamped but its so wonderfully gum gum.

and last, and maybe least in stature but not in much else, bart!

things i enjoy about this design: the little thigh dagger. bart is totally the kind of man to strap a dagger to his thigh instead of just attaching the sheath to the belt like a normal person

i made him VERY visibly part dragonborn because it's honestly hilarious. because gum gum has known bart since he was a baby, he knows bart's just Like that. kyborg hadn't interacted with another person in like 30 years before he met them and mudd had probably never seen a halfling in his life, and even if he had, he wasn't just gonna have his first conversation with the guy be "i don't believe you when you say what race you are." tbh mudd's probably applies to kyborg as well. and bart assumed its just because of the different subraces of halfling. he's a stout halfling, alleve is a lightfoot halfling, no wonder she doesn't look like him!

also the hem of the pants is so fun and piratey and i love it and it's perfect.

i also gave him a crystal resembling his diagem, i haven't decided what's going on with that yet. i didn't give mudd one because no way in hell am i trying to make a ring WITH a diagem in it. how about no :3

things i do NOT enjoy: gl2 doesn't have enough curly hair options, specifically for rear hair. so bart's hair in this is not as accurate in this to my mind's eye as the others. its alright it does look good regardless

and that's all ive got in terms of commentary, please enjoy me talking about my silly little hyperfixation guys. byebye!

[grecoisms]

title: a heap of broken images (3/4)

pairing: kim wexler x lalo salamanca

rating: M

summary: 

"If she wasn´t driving, she´d close her eyes. Let her imagination run amok. Then she could see the outlines of him, a haunting: dead and dark, like the path she used to take home when her mother was drunk and she would not sit next to her in the car, the act more out of defiance than fear."

"—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed" t.s.eliot - the waste land

.

Four in the afternoon finds Kim at her desk, paperwork done, eyes burning, brain foggy. Adrenaline from the aftermath got her so far, but eventually she bought herself a sandwich and a coke from the vending machine downstairs to give some energy, lest she lose the rest of her bravado. And she has to work, because when there is nothing for her brain to do, the darkest of thoughts comes a-visiting. 

The fact that Jimmy still hasn't called does not help.

She eats her cold turkey sandwich more as a duty than hunger, but takes her time to savor the coke which calms her squeamish stomach. Objectively, she is done for the day. De Guzman has his new cell, she put in a good word for him in the report and plenty of written requests on his behalf - mostly asking for extensions regarding the trial. Her and her client's ways are now seemingly separate, until, of course the prosecution decides to sink their teeth into this particular narrative. And that moment will come for certain. What's more: Lalo threw in the family card, so when (if-if-if) trial comes, she would need to be ready and play onto his hands. 

Son of a bitch of a case, she thinks around the billionth time she got that call in the morning. 

As she finishes the last of her drink, she opens the case file Jimmy has put together, and searches for the family he has created out of nothing. Flotsam, jetsam. He spurred a solid story. A wife, two children, a mother-in-law. A house with a lawn. Dream come true. 

The number she finds goes straight to voicemail; the email bounces back. Her only hope now remains an address, near Bellehaven. Deep in thought, she plays a rhythm with her pen, and weighs her options, but in her mind's eyes, she is already planning the journey. The whole thing could be over in two hours.

  No harm in trying, is there?

.

According to the file, Beth McKinnon lives with her two children and her mother - the children's maternal grandmother - near Bellehaven Elementary school which the older boy, Christopher, and the younger girl, Ella, has been attending since 2001. 

Looking around at the neighbourhood while driving, Kim has once again has to grudgingly congratulate Jimmy's taste: it's a better part of town, with freshly painted playgrounds and newly renovated, stocky little houses in a neat line, tinting both the faces and the sun a bit brighter. Even the grass seem greener in the yards, pun intended. One could hardly imagine a murderer living here, no siree. 

The McKinnons live at the far end of Princess Jane's lane, in a yellow house radiating joy even from afar, with windowpanes and the doors white as baptism day. It's a house which Kim has only seen in magazines, and she understands not why her heart grows so heavy as she gets out of her car, May sun unrelenting on her bare neck. 

It takes her two knocks and the bell to get an answer. 

Then a woman opens the door, probably Beth: harsh expression on an otherwise kind face. Behind her, a small hall, with a small mountain of shoes leaning on each other, alongside the height chart on the wall, with Tom and Jerry stickers on it, and from the slight smell of popcorn Kim knows at once that this family is, at least, a real one.

"Yes?" Beth sounds suspicious, and Kim cannot blame her. If a sharp-looking woman in black and white would turn up uninvited at her door after work, she might have difficulty opening her doors.

"Mrs. McKinnon" she says. "I´m here to talk about Jorge de Guzmán."

It´s the flash of a second, but her eyes widen, just so. Deer in the headlights, caught at a crossroads. She can sympathize, she can wait, while Beth bites on her lower lip.  It takes a bit of scrutiny, but then something must speak for her, because despite her hesitation, Beth opens the door wider.

"You better step in." 

Inside, there are more shoes, just at the corner of the entrance. 

Two of them, Kim notes, are brand new. 

Beth leads her to a room just adjacent to the hall. A kitchen, which is so far from Kim's childhood experiences that for a second, she feels lost. Almost forgets to take off her shoes. 

It is a cramped up little thing, with yellow walls and warm lights, with handwritten notes and childish drawings on the fridge, jam-smeared and juice-spilled with fingerprints. Cups and plates in the sink and the smell of stew with vegetables - holy halo. The clock above the door has the shape of a cat, its whiskers serving as its hands.

"Want a glass?" Beth asks but is already pouring her some water from the faucet.

"Sure." Kim answers, glass already in her hand, watching the mother's hands pale from squeezing another glass. 

Neither of them drink. They just stare at each other across the room. 

"So, what about him?" Beth's voice is defiant. She is trying to guess who Kim is and what she wants. 

"Saul Goodman sent me." lies Kim, handing Jimmy´s card to her. "Everything is fine, but we might need your help again."

"If everything was fine" the woman points out. "You wouldn't be here."

A clever woman. Kim decides to play it straight.

"We may have to continue with the trials. You won´t need to undergo any unnecessary hearing, just show up, like you did before. No speaking, just your presence."

Beth does not move. Does not blink.

"I do not know what you uhm, arrangement entailed with Mr. Goodman, but I can assure you the same compensations. Or more, regarding the urgency of this matter."

Still no blinking, but a lot of brightness and wetness in her eyes. 

Tears. 

Kim looks away, tactful. 

The cat whiskers ticks twice as loud in the silence as it usually would. She wonders if it ever kept Beth McKinnon wide awake at night. 

Then something touches Kim's elbows and she winces despite herself. 

"Mom" says Ella, fair-haired and yawning. "Can I have a ginger ale?"

Her fingers have a layer of salt on them, which she wipes on her white cotton pants. She has no socks on. Beth, who must have turned her head away for tactical reasons, does not notice any of this.

"You already had one, so no." she says, strictly to the cabinet.

"I'm thirsty."

"Here, have my water" says Kim. "I haven't touched it."

The girl looks up at her, eyebrows knitted in a very adultlike manner. 

"But you are holding it." she says. 

Kim smiles, again, despite herself. 

"It means I didn't drink from it" she explains, then hands her glass to Ella carefully.

"What do we say?"

"Thank you" repeats the girl dutifully, after having had her sip. "Why are you dressed like a penguin?"

"Ella!" Beth exclaims. "That is not a nice thing to say!"

"I'm a lawyer. This is how we dress sometimes."

"Do you get points if judges laugh at you?"

"I wish that was the case" laughs Kim. "Would make my job much easier!"

"Here" Ella hands the glass back. "We will have to dress in black and white soon."

"We?" asks Kim. 

"Me and Chris. The end of school is here, silly." she beams up at the lawyer twice her size. "Are you going on a vacation too?"

"Ella - " starts Beth in a tired voice. "Give the lady some rest, please."

"It's okay, it's a good question actually." Kim crouches down. "I have a lot of work to do, but I have always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon."

"That's a good one" Ella agrees with a serious nod. "I will add it to my travel list. Do you want to know where we are going?"

But before she can whisper the secret to Kim, her mother intervenes. 

"Ella" her voice is sharp, bearing no disagreement. 

The little girl falls silent, and Kim stands up, her linen shirt rustling, crumpling in the movement. 

"I need some time alone with the lady now" says her mother evenly. "You remember what I told you about adults talking?"

"That I can join in when I´m older" It would be comical, the disappointment of the girl, but she is so serious in her curiosity, with clever, round eyes. "But Mom...."

"No, no. Put up some socks and clean Chris´desk. He will be home soon."

"Can I turn on the radio?"

"Yes, but only till the fifth volume, okay?"

"Okay." 

Ella leaves, but not before tiptoeing towards her mother to hug her clumsily, lovingly, careful not to touch her mother´s shirt with her salty fingers. Then suddenly, it´s the two of them again: Beth and Kim, heaviness like a rope around them. In what must be their shared bedroom, Ella turns on the radio, the song playing but a murmur: slow and thick like honey, and hazy like a dream. 

It is Beth who breaks the silence first. 

"Mr. Goodman assured me it was a one-time thing" her voice is softer this time, if Kim seeing her daughter broke some of the ice. "Assured me that the man who we will be helping is an innocent man, wrongfully put to trial. He called me, that lawyer of yours. Said we would get a nice sum of money which he then paid us in advance. No questions asked, just smiling in court." She waves her hand around the kitchen, with an open, beckoning expression. Hopeful, despite hope being a hemorrhage - once it starts, you just bleed and bleed.  

"You would think once you buy a house, it´s all easy. You made it, you think foolishly. Have a family, a house with a backyard, a job nearby, no worries. But reality is harsher, no? You have a mortgage on the house, and the two incomes become one when your husband dies. Strange, how nothing is how you planned it."

Her hands tremble as she touches her forehead with them. 

"You are not going on a vacation, are you?" it isn´t a question. 

It all makes sense now: the shoes decked in the hall, ready for inventory. The cleaning and packing. The sudden shush, the mood swings. Big changes. 

"If I didn´t have children, I would accept" whispers Beth, lowering her hands from her face. One of her nails is chipped, and is painted a different color than the rest. Ella must have done it. "But then again, they are the reason I accepted this farce in the first place."

"We can meet each other halfway, still." Kim suggests. "It doesn´t have to be like this."

"Like what?"

"Black and white. You are obviously under great stress, and we tend to make hasty decisions when we feel there are no other options." Kim steps a bit closer. "We can arrange so that your children wouldn´t have to go to court next time."

Beth narrows her eyes. 

"And the next? Or the one that comes after? Can you give me a guarantee that it will be over the next time?"

"I can only guarantee you will be well compensated each time. Might be one more time, might be two. But we can promise you immunity, just like at the beginning."

This makes the mother laugh. It is a joyless sound.

"You cannot promise anything like that."

No, she cannot. Jimmy promised this woman something that he could not fulfill. A familiarity. 

"Are you afraid of the police - is that it?"

"Police is one thing" Beth complies, fidgeting with the hem of her navy-blue shirt. "It´s the man I would be defending I'm mostly worried about."

Kim feels her throat and mouth dry. Yes, she can see how Jimmy sweetening the deal with reassuring this widow would make sense then, when he only had to worry about one trial, and not several. Strange, how nothing is how you planned it.

"You have..." she starts, but she finds that she cannot finish the sentence. Hears how empty she sounds all of a sudden. 

"Nothing to fear?" Beth's spine goes rigid. "I might believe you - have I not seen that man in the courtroom. My god, you can make him act as polite as he needs to be, but I knew him by a single stare. He is a vile one. " 

The blame in her look is blatant: perhaps blaming herself for believing, and blaming Kim for trying, for her mere presence here. 

"Would you deny it?" 

She would not. 

Or worse, she cannot.

  Then the entrance door opens, and before she can register, a lanky boy around twelve dashes across the kitchen, jumping up and down, fists closed before him. 

"For God´s sake, Christopher!" Beth snaps. "How many times do I ha... what is that?"

Kim, who was born and bred near the tough sandhills of Nebraska countryside, already knows what that is. 

A scream proves her hypothesis. 

"I found it just next to the door" Chris holds up the lizard like a prize. "His name is Nepomuk."

"Bethany" the grandmother turns into the kitchen, panting, grey hair in disarray. "I´m sorry, I tried to stop him, but he wouldn´t listen."

Feeling more and more like an outsider, Kim decides to make her exit the exact moment the lizard lurches forward the open sink, just inside the pile of dirty plates and cutlery, followed by even more screaming.

When she looks back, she sees Ella, with her crown of hay, peering out from her window, the sun blazing her face so that she resembles more like an angel than a child.

As for Kim, she waits for self-hatred to reach her around the same time she gets to the car.

Gets in, lets her head fall on the wheel, and tastes shame like a medicine.

.

It doesn´t come as a surprise that her phone is dead. 

Time to go home and hope. 

Driving home is a rare challenge today. Kim has always commended herself on her work-ethic, but what she feels now is a bone-deep fatigue, licking at her innards. Full, that is how she feels, spilling over the edges. Meanwhile, the sky stares at her sordidly in a solid, sturdy sort of blood red as if it was running a fever all along its spine that separates earth from the heavens. 

Horizontally consistent, vertically vast. 

She wants to lie down so badly and let go. Just for an hour. Half an hour. Around her wish and her figure, the terrain changes, but she does not heed it - has started driving unaware: white line fever taking over her, and underneath it all, perhaps a real fever is on its way. Her skin feels hot all over, wants to crawl out of her own skin because staying in it has become quite burdensome as of late. Crossing that infamous bridge will soon become relevant, and is already on fire, however she tries to look at it. 

If only Jimmy was here. It´s not a need, but a wish, a want. He could make this problem light, or at least lighter - would be experienced where she is not - would know the words that she lacks. 

Worse still, there is also the question of him, and how much viler he will become if he knows the plan won´t hold up perfectly. Yes, it is obvious he is dangerous - obvious not just to lawmen, but to an outsider as well. Beth McKinnon got so afraid, she decided to run in the opposite direction. A question begs itself: why doesn´t Kim feel the need to do the same? There was a choice to be made a day, no, two days ago: to be seen or not, by Lalo Salamanca. She chose the former path and, in turn, could have a glimpse at him - the mercury face, the shrewd smile, the tense intent behind his masquerade. Nonchalant at first glance, but Kim is experienced in facades. Knows a well-crafted disguise when she sees one and beholds Lalo as he is: ambitious and passionate, calculating and cunning - a man with a sea of fire for a mind. 

Still. Beth was right: right to reject her, right to run. No use of denying:  he is a violent man, Kim could see it from his stance, the slope of his wide shoulders and the column of his thick neck that he cradled ferocity from a young age; below the blood, bordering on the soul.

If she wasn´t driving, she´d close her eyes. Let her imagination run amok. Then she could see the outlines of him, a haunting: dead and dark, like the path she used to take home when her mother was drunk and she would not sit next to her in the car, the act more out of defiance than fear. 

Is this defiance then? she wonders, reaching the outskirts of Sawmill Village Apartments. During the journey home, the scarlet of the sky turned black, day turned to night. Against whom exactly? Or what? 

Defying her limits, her expectations? True, she wouldn´t have done anything close to this six months ago. Not even three. Now here she is, jumping right into danger, consequences be damned - all thrill, no thought, no care. Some stubborn part of her always wanted to stand out, stand apart from the crowd, ever since she was a girl with gangly legs. After, around the time her eighteen-year-old self realized she did not merely want to survive but succeed, she learnt to fight differently. Because you need to adapt then and overcome your nature, which Kim found the hardest for people to do. 

Or maybe, says her bolder voice growing stronger each day, you´re revolting against banality itself. Isn´t that why you hooked up with Jimmy in the first place? 

Started as a hookup. Became something more. 

Unnameable. 

Until, well, until Lalo named it, smiling as he said so, a smile that did not reach his eyes, not really. She wondered if anything reached those eyes, really. Anything of substance. Even as a prisoner, even in chains, he was putting together pieces in a game only he saw and understood, a game which Jimmy and her got caught in accidentally. 

Briefly, she hopes. 

Lalo named it, what she dared not. 

You love him. You love him. You love him.

A fact.

A weapon.

There was a thrill in it, this chess game, this haunted hunting. The knowing and yet not. Boredom was revolting to Kim - but was it always? She tries to remember if her wish to stand out as a teenager was her way of getting some excitement , but as she contemplates this while parking her car, she has a dawning sort of realization, and suddenly,  she comes back into her body, alert and awake, as if though shaken from slumber.

Stops the engine and looks into the rearview mirror, as if it was a wishing well.  

A woman nearing forty looks back at her. 

How she resembles her mother!

And just how alone she was as a child. 

There was no other way, she realizes, tired hand over tired face: she has always stood out, having been a pilgrim between schools, dreading the summertime without friends, a father who was a ghost, and a mother who should neve have given birth. 

And given what she inherited from her parent; she had never managed to revolt against shit. If anything, she followed in her steps obediently, doing exactly what she had done.

Running, always running. 

And now what?

Now Jimmy is in the desert, and she can transform Jorge de Guzman into Lalo Salamanca.

A fact.

A weapon.

.

The lights are turned on in the apartment.

Now this is a surprise. 

She can see it from below, the warm glow of the living room licking at the terrace, and an almost irrational fear floods her. 

Maybe the police found out their ruse. Or it´s already the cartel, sniffing around. Or another group, the people who tried to kill Lalo, perhaps waiting for her in the dark, with a shiv or a gun. And her phone is dead. 

A shudder touches her, top to bottom, head to toe. 

Her fickle and frequent visitor: Adrenaline.

Eyeing her car keys and thinking of the spare mirror and nail clippers she usually keeps in her compartment box; she shuffles through her chances. The power of surprise is with her, but nothing much. Cannot call the police, for various reasons - and who else is there to call now?

Kim takes a deep breath and with it, the risk as well. 

.

Upstairs, just before the apartment, there is a static sort of silence.

When trying to push the keys in, she finds the door open.

The car keys - Kim holds those in her right hand, fist closed, so that two of the keys can peek out from in-between the triad of her fingers. 

Index, middle, ring. 

Very slowly, almost softly, she yawns the door open, heart hammering in her chest, proof of life. The hammering is so loud in her ears, she fears it will betray her. 

And then just as softly, if not more slowly, she tiptoes to the living room, holding her breath, peeking to the left, towards the sofa. 

"Kim" says a raspy voice from her right, from the kitchen.

Kim would recognize this voice, his voice, anywhere - and turns to see, dropping the keys on the ground, forgotten.

Yet Jimmy´s voice does not match Jimmy´s face: he looks like Kim feels, there is a haunted look on his sunburnt face and dry eyes, eyes that have a thousand-mile stare. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but her words turn into tears, she is crying in earnest now - hot, honest tears. 

Holds her shaking shoulders while she holds his - is it possible that he got thinner in these two days?

"Hey" her husband says; her other half. "I' m okay. We're okay."

Whispers it with such conviction that Kim almost believes him.

.

Although it is not exactly a lie he tells her, it is a quite colored and censored version of the truth.

He went out to the desert, the plan went amiss, crashed his car, got lost, spent one night under the stars and another at a motel near Claunch. But he isn't sure where he was exactly, not until he reached Camino Cerrito.

And though Kim has an argument to each of his stories, and twice as many questions to ask, she doesn´t. Not tonight.  Not when Jimmy looks so pitiful, so pitiable: apart from his legs hurting, the burns and tidbit cuts, Jimmy also has a big bruise on his forehead, just below his hairline - blooming already into an angry, purplish color. 

When her eyes carve a question mark there, he tries to rebuff her in advance:

"I fell" and looks down, like a child caught in the pantry. 

Smiles, but even his smile seems to be in pain. 

Only when he is naked in the bath, all bare and vulnerable, does Kim dare to ask her first question, the first in her mind after ordering her heart back in its place.

"Did you bail Lalo out?"

Is he out? is what she wanted to ask, but thought it too crude, like she was asking whether an animal escaped its cage. 

"Funny story" says Jimmy, nodding, and looking anything but entertained. "Mentioned you have met. Knew your name and everything."

Kim rolls her eyes. She doesn't know it yet, but in a month, she will miss this lightness with every atom of her being. 

"Did he call me Mrs. Goodman?" 

"Yeah, he did" Jimmy´s mouth is a thin line. "But he is out and will be gone soon. Probably fleeing to Mexico after the stunt he pulled. Hopefully for good."

Silence follows, the comforting kind, the one you can sink into. Domesticity has many blissful corners like this, bus stops, as she calls in her head, where you can put down your baggage for a bit. She had never known a silence like this, not before Jimmy. 

She washes his back with care, but as she tries to wash the back of neck with the wet sponge, Jimmy´s hand grasps hers, cutting the motion. 

"Kim, I´m sorry." His voice is small - but his eyes are big. "You never should have had to go there, to him."

"Does it matter now?" she replies, sensible, reaching to cup Jimmy's face. "Went to the Detention Center on my own accord, it's not as if someone put a gun to my head."

Though the sentence comes without a thought, she regrets the words almost instantly. It's almost as if someone closed the blinds on Jimmy´s face, painting it dark, shallow. 

"It was like he was gloating" he shudders, refusing to look at Kim, staring at the wall, eyes glossing over. "Like he knew. Knew that he has in his pocket now that he has met you, now that he knows you."

"He better remember me," Kim replies. "I saved his ass today."

"What?!"

"They tried to murder him in his cell this morning. With a home-made shiv."

"Jesus" this makes Jimmy look at her, sudden-pale under the sunburn. 

"Oh, I guess he omitted this part when you talked?"

"Well, it wasn't a long chat. Kept staring at his neck, though. I thought he had had an accident, or I don´t know, some... nasty action."

Kim laughs despite herself. 

She missed Jimmy so much. 

"Nasty action?" 

"He strikes me as a man who has a taste for deviance."

A muscle jumps in the inside of her thigh. She ignores it. 

"Well, I am not sure whether he liked being choked or not, but pleasure wasn´t exactly the aim of the assailants."

"Who knows these days?" Jimmy mutters, repressing a yawn. "Wait, so did you..."

"Represent him against prosecution? No, but I was about to. They sent Khalil, from the DA's, another lawyer from the center, and a detective, too."

The water cools while she recounts today´s events, some part of her soul hoping that it will encourage Jimmy to open up as well. 

"... and then I wrote to NMC, asking for extension. By the way, Khalil is furious with us, so there's that."

"Well, hopefully it won't matter anymore, I guess - with Lalo being gone."

Strange thing, the double entendre: gone as in distance, gone as to death. Kim feels the hair on her arms stand, trying to imagine Lalo Salamanca´s body in blood, but finds she cannot.

"You think they will try again?" she asks in a low voice.

"Dunno" says Jimmy slowly, as if tasting the words with care. "But that's not our problem anymore."

Ache in his eyes, but not his heart, surely. 

This man of hers, he survived, he always did. 

"Was it worth it?" she whispers, passing her hand through his dry hair, lighter by a shade.

"See for yourself" grins Jimmy, and lets some more water into the tub, while Kim goes through the duffel bag on the couch.

Inside, there lies an unseen amount of cash and a coffee mug, with a hole in its middle.

.

In her dream, Kim is balancing a duffel bag with innumerable shoes stuffed in it and a shiv that is made out of keys. In this world of dreams - as it goes - there exist dream laws, according to which the duffel bag and the shiv have the same and equal amount of weight.

No questions asked, especially because Kim has only one leg in her dream, so this balancing act is close to a well-versed miracle. She doesn´t question this, obviously. She is too busy balancing and making sure none of the items fall, because in this world, in this state, that is the worst thing that could happen, surely. 

She can´t let it go. 

Can´t let go.

Can´t.

Then - because this is a dreamworld, and not the real one - Jimmy comes to help her quite quickly, no questions asked, and she feels so relieved, that she might just fall on her knees herself.

Oh, but wait: that would defeat the purpose itself.

"Jimmy!" she says, loud in the syrupy texture of the dream space. "Quick, take the bag!"

But as he steps closer, it becomes apparent that he has no hands and thus cannot help her.

She says his name again, and in turn, Jimmy opens his mouth to speak.

Surely, to console her. 

It's not consolation, however, that comes out of his mouth. No calming words. Kim is not sure it's a human voice, a human noise - it's something subhuman, a shriek, a shrill noise that´s like a...

"Someone's ringing the bell" she groans, reaching for Jimmy in the dark, shaking him up. 

Jimmy whines into the pillow, frustrated. 

"What time is it?" he moans, words muffled by linen.

"Four forty-two." 

They hadn't eaten dinner - just went straight to bed, clothes discarded on the floor, worries forgotten. Now, in the early hours of the morning, half their soul still in sleep, stiffness in their joints, it's hard to stand up straight. 

A phone starts to ring - Jimmy´s, in the kitchen, thrown just next to the aquarium. Kim doesn´t have it in her to ask. 

"I'll get it" he mutters. 

Half-awake, Kim staggers to the front door, barely aware of her surroundings - and therefore forgets to ask who is standing outside their door.

Opens the door, trusting and blind.

"Hey" says Lalo Salamanca, smiling his wolfish smile, eyes alight. "Can I come in?"

[ironverseocs]

OC Valentine's Challenge 2024 -> Day 1: First Love

(Read on AO3)

Melissa scrambled up the limbs, hand over hand, feet scraping bark off where they struck and kicked off against the organism. She laughed as she chased Jackson higher up.

“Race ya to the top!” he said, unnecessarily so since he was already a yard from the last bough with two yards between him and Melissa.

“Says you with the head start,” Melissa sneered playfully. Nonetheless, she eagerly spurred on the pace.

Once she reached the last stable bough – something sturdy enough to support her weight to sit on –, she seated herself with her legs hanging off one side and her left hand wrapping around the top of the trunk for support. Jackson mirrored her on the opposite side. She could see half his face through the needles of the pine.

“So, what is it you wanted to give me?” she asked.

Jackson just smiled, a little bit sly, a little bit coy.

Melissa frowned.

“Don’t tell me it’s just this. Like, the view or whatever,” she said, finishing in thought, because that would be lame.

“It’s not.”

She waited for him to continue, to say what it was, but he held silent another moment longer.

“So?” she drew out. “What goes, Jack?”

Jackson sucked in his lips, pressing his mouth into a line. Suddenly, it was like all his glee had vanished and only his giddiness remained. He stared at her a second longer, then ripped his gaze away to stare at the ground below, a sizable drop below. Was that… sheepishness she was seeing? Why would he be scared? They had hung out all Summer since the moment he moved to her neighbourhood. They went to the movies together, biked to the far side of town, stayed up late into the night playing video games under the same roof or apart and online, speaking through headsets, trying to keep their voices low so they don’t wake up the whole of their households. His eyes drifted to a pocket on his cargo shorts before glancing behind him.

Melissa’s brows knit harder into one another.

He shoved his hand into the pocket and pulled out a parcel—brown paper wrapping with a red string tying off.

“Happy birthday,” he said quietly—in a tone that blew away all thought from the girl’s mind—and pressed his hand forward.

It was all Melissa could do to stare at it.

“For you,” he urged.

“Right. Duh,” she parried back and caught him in a glance before she took the parcel into her own hands. She flipped it over, studied the way the knot in the string was made and the tape was laid perfectly parallel with the edges of the paper. She looked at Jackson again.

There was a lump suddenly in her throat. “What is it?”

“Are you forgetting how gift giving works? You’re supposed to unwrap it and find out!”

Melissa holds back her sheepishness and peels the tape off with her fingertips. The package is irregularly shaped, cylindrical but squat, about one inch deep and three in diameter. It’s heavy, making Melissa guess it to be made of metal. She finishes peeling off the last of the tape, unraveled the paper, and revealed —

Her eyes flash wide and round; glittering bronze, polished glass, a shifting stick half red, half white with letters inscribed around the outside. White on black. Despite its now polished nature, she can tell it used to be old. An antique.

“Jackson, I — how much—” Breath catches in her throat. “This must have cost…” She doesn’t know exactly, but the gist…? “A lot. What made you– why– ?”

He shrugs. “I knew you’d like it. And…” He looks away, his cheeks tingeing with pink. “I like you.”

It’s Melissa’s turn to turn pink, from the tips of her ears to the bridge of her nose. Butterflies begin to flutter in her stomach, preparing for a liftoff. He likes me? she repeats internally, trying to comprehend what that actually means. She blinks, trying to make sense of it, and then it hits her: Yeah, right, he likes her; they’re friends. Why would he hang out with her if he didn’t like her?

But then, why would he have to say something like that, if both of us already know it’s true?

“Sure,” she says simply, cautiously, “like, as a friend, right?” Melissa studies the antique compass resting in her palm while in wait for a response. While probing the space for clarity, she cannot look at him. She cannot give him more than her carefully chosen words. She cannot take this too fast— assume too much, and fall flat on her face as a result.

“No, like…”

Jackson’s hand is suddenly on her wrist, gentle yet alluring, and the gesture tugs at her mind enough that she allows her curiosity to take over. She shifts eyes to the corners, lifts her chin a fraction… he takes his hand away, now that he’s got her attention, and smiles—a small smile not like the one before slightly sly but innocent and pure like stars in a midnight sky.

“Like this.” He leans forward, over the tops of the pine branches, and presses a kiss to her cheek. Before she can react, he pulls back, suddenly flushed with colour, gaze sheepishly casting down. But then, he realises, and his posture springs up; he looks alarmed. “I’m sorry. That was probably too much. I think I—”

“No,” Melissa states firmly, and her confidence shocks the both of them. “Why ‘sorry’?” And then she laughs. She can’t help it. The lost puppy look on his face makes it all ten times better. She should stop— she should sober up and ease his worries, but she can’t, for all she’s feeling is one hundred percent glee. “No no, you can’t be sorry,” she starts again. “Because if you’re sorry, I can’t do this.”

As best she can, Melissa twists on the branch she’s sitting on so she’s facing him, closes her fist around the compass (to tuck it into her coat pocket), and then reaches herself forward to catch him on the lips.

It’s a quick peck. Like his was to her cheek. But Melissa hopes it conveys all the sentiment she is unable to express into words. For things like this, words barely do the feelings justice. A simple ‘thank you’ does not express the warmth behind her sternum, filling up her ribcage.

When she pulls back…

“I like you, too,” she says. “So, there.”

Jackson’s smile is slow to grow across his face, but he says back to her, “There.”

“Thank you,” Melissa presses, “times a million, for the present. I can’t believe that you’d… How did you afford it?”

“Told my dad I wanted it, then gave it to you.”

Just like that? If she were in another state of mind (not a young love-spun one), she’d marvel at how easy he made that sound, how Jackson had spoken of his deed like it was easier than a breeze. Like using his parent to give him something that he wasn’t even going to keep… and then giving it to her… the awe of it wrapped around Melissa’s mind and would not let go.

“Well, tell you dad thanks for spending the money,” she jokes.

He smiles.

"But,—" more sincere, "thank you for getting it in the first place."

They’re back to their usual dynamic, it seems, but with one very significant change:

Now, they hold each other’s hands.

–

forever taglist -> @ocappreciation @ochub @arrthurpendragon @foxesandmagic @shrinkthisviolet @themaradwrites @goldheartedchaoticdisaster | dm me or send an ask if you'd like to be added :)

[fallen-gravity]

What do you think will happen with Ollie and Molly going forward? I feel like he will make scratch an exception to this ghost hunting stuff.

Yeah, I think seeing Molly talking to Scratch and knowing how much he means to her is gonna be the big main driving point for Ollie's character development and his relationship with ghost hunting and with his family as a result of that. One of my favorite things to imagine with Ollie down the line is a situation where Scratch gets captured again, but this time Ollie's the one who sets him free, because he realizes that Molly and her feelings and his feelings for her are far more important than proving the existence of ghosts and/or hurting them for the sake of likes and subscriptions online.

And here's the other thing: I don't fully believe that Molly is completely and 100% already over Ollie no questions asked. Ollie definitely still has feelings for her, given this face he makes when asked about Molly even after overhearing what she said,

But I don't buy for even one second that Molly's feelings for Ollie are completely gone. Think about it! That scene of Molly happily running along and having a good time with Scratch is seen entirely from Ollie's perspective. We don't know how she truly and completely feels about Ollie. Think about if we'd seen Scratch the Surface entirely from Libby's perspective!

She was devastated! Libby thought Molly never wanted to speak to her again!! and even if Molly directly spoke the words that "Ollie and I are finished," there's a good chance that was a spur of the moment thing she said out of anger and fear of the current situation Scratch was in! Remember still in Scratch the Surface, when she'd said to Scratch that she'd have to stop talking to Libby and it'd be okay as long as Scratch was safe?

She was heartbroken, even though she was sure what she was doing was the safest option!! Molly's a very conflict-avoidant person, so she's always gonna be the type to make these spur-of-the-moment promises to avoid conflict, even if her own happiness is at stake. So when she's presented with Ollie, someone she really likes, putting Scratch in much more danger than Libby originally would have, of course she's gonna retreat to her conflict-avoidant ways.

But just like with Libby, and maybe even moreso because her feelings for Ollie are romantic, she can't just shut her feelings off overnight. It's not something she can force herself to do, even if it's something she's telling herself it's something she wants. How could someone go from this:

to hating that same person the very next morning? It's not something that's all that easy to do, especially for someone like Molly whose whole outlook on life is to love.

So here's how I think it's gonna go down: Ollie's gonna start having all of these complicated thoughts about ghost hunting, 'cause on one hand, it's all he's known his entire life, it's one of the only things he thinks he has value in, and it's what his family's been doing since before he was even born. But then there's Molly, who he cares about so, so much, who managed to upturn his entire worldview in the course of a single night without even knowing. He sees Molly with a ghost, and...they're hugging? They're laughing?? They're acting like they're family? There are good ghosts out there? And because of how much he cares about Molly, and because his number one goal in the world outside of ghost hunting is to make the world a better place just like Molly, I can see him going through an arc where, at the end of said arc, he flips the script: he vows to protect ghosts, and because he really wants to get back on Molly's good side because he still has feelings for her (and doesn't know that maybe she still has some feelings for him too), I could see him doing everything he can to prove to her that he's changed and that he's sorry for everything he's said and done.

He works against his family, which is gonna get him in a lot of trouble, but there could be a good message in there about beliefs passed down through the generations and how it's up to the younger generations to fight those beliefs and to fight for who and what they really care about in the world.

It may take a while, but I can't imagine 5a truly being the end of the Molly/Ollie storyline. I think we've only scratched the surface, and that they're gonna get much, much more focus down the line, and I eagerly sit on the edge of my seat with an extra large bucket of popcorn and my friend server on speed dial to Scream about it with them