#might update and switch the image out maybe when I get to it

[trainwrecksys]

Since I literally just posted on insta then finished this off I decided to space out my posts since I’m a literal art machine it’s concerning

Anyway PRIDE MONTH!!!! happy pride month from caul in a very bright (rightfully so) outfit since he deserves to be very gay… or queer… or perhaps… stretching the meaning…….. peculiar

[redrose10]

Here is Chapter 17! There’s going to be one more little chapter that I’ll post in a day or two that is pretty much just pure fluff. But chapter 17 basically closes out this story. Thank you to everyone that has read and stuck with me through this. I know the story got a little all over the place at times, but this is the first multi chapter fic I’ve ever written and I never planned for it to go this far to be honest. I appreciate all of the comments and messages as always!

I posted a teaser for a new story that I’ll start releasing in about a week or so and I might also have this idea for a little Drabble series type thing about a relationship between Yoongi and his co-worker (Y/N) and how their relationship blossoms while he’s fulfilling his military requirements through his civil service assignment.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,496

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

Your eyes kept switching between Yoongi, Mia, and Suri. Jin already looked like he’d rather be anywhere else besides sitting at this table right now. Yoongi hadn’t taken his eyes off of Mia and you weren’t sure who was enjoying it more, her or Suri. Finally after what seemed like hours Yoongi walked forward taking a seat across from Mia and you followed close behind taking a seat next to him.

Mia reached across to grab his hand and to your surprise he let her. A small blush crept across his cheeks. “Yoongles how have you been? You’re looking really good.”, she spoke making you roll your eyes at the nickname.

Your attention was pulled elsewhere when Suri suddenly called your name, “Y/N, I doubt Yoongi ever told you, but him and Mia were engaged. Unfortunately it didn’t work out. They make such a cute couple though, don’t you think?” You glared at Suri while you tried to figure out her game. She wants Yoongi so bad, but here she is gloating about what a great couple Mia and him were.

“Yoongles we should get together sometime. You know maybe get dinner or something. Then we can go back to your place and I can do that thing for you that I know you like.”, she said with a smirk running her fingers up and down his hand. Yoongi still hadn’t said anything since the two of you walked in the door. You’re not sure what came over you, but you reached over ripping his hand out of her reach and pulling it down onto your lap, “No thank you. He has a WIFE who’s more than willing to do anything and everything that he likes and more so he doesn’t need some cheating, selfish, gold digger like yourself in his life.” Everyone at the table looked at you with wide eyes and jaws dropped surprised by your little outburst. For the first time Yoongi acknowledged you by giving your hand a little squeeze.

Mia chuckled, “Oh Y/N, he really brainwashed you didn’t he? Do you think he actually cares about you let alone loves you? I heard all about it from Suri. I’m not surprised really. I mean he’s a successful, handsome, wealthy businessman and you are a poor orphan girl who will never be anything other than that. You were nothing more than a good deal to him and his family. A way to boost his image and in turn make him more money. He told me that himself.” You gasped looking to Yoongi for any sign that she was lying. When his expression didn’t change you shoved his hand out of your lap with force. Mia faked a shocked expression, “You mean you didn’t tell her Yoongi? You didn’t tell her about our little meet up a few weeks ago where you told me all about how much you couldn’t stand her and how you regretted this whole marriage?” The entire time this conversation had been taking place Suri has been off to the side reveling in watching it all. She knew bringing Mia back into the mix would be the final nail in the coffin that she needed to get you out of their life. Yoongi could never resist his first love.

You could feel the tears begin to form. You didn’t want to cry and show weakness in front of these people, but it seemed like your brain wasn’t going to cooperate. Abruptly standing up you tried to walk off towards the exit, but Yoongi grabbed your wrist begging you to stop, “Y/N please let me explain. It’s not what you think.”

The sound of the slap was probably heard through the entire building. Yoongi winced placing a hand on his reddened cheek. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again Yoongi.”, you whispered before trying to run off only to stop and turn to Suri instead realizing you had some unfinished business.

You wanted to get in her face, but decided to keep your distance reminding yourself that she was pregnant.

“Are you happy now Suri? Is this what you wanted? Look how many lives you’ve ruined and for what? You think you’re so smart and powerful, but in reality you’re an idiot who abuses others for your own personal benefit. You’ll get what’s coming to you one day.”

She stood there smiling at you for a few moments before finally speaking, “Y/N, I told you that I always get what I want and I meant it. I don’t care who or what I have to destroy to do it. I’ve had Yoongi wrapped around my finger for years and I wasn’t going to allow you to take that from me.”

“You’ve blackmailed him for years.”, you cut her off with the correction.

“So fucking what? I blackmailed him. I’ve blackmailed a lot of people. I’ve blackmailed Yoongi, Namjoon, my own brother, and countless other people and I don’t give a fuck. They all deserved it. That’s how I get shit done. Unlike you I won’t stop until I achieve my goal. I don’t just back down and let others walk all over me.”

She was somewhat out of breath after her rant was over with. You were about to respond when a very loud knock at the door stopped you.

“Good grief, it’s about time.”, Jin mumbled as he got up to let them in. Within seconds two detectives came walking over followed by two more police officers handcuffs already out.

One of the officers walked forward towards Suri, “Suri Cho, you are under arrest for the extortion of Yoongi Min, Namjoon Kim, and Han Cho. You are also being charged with making threats against Y/N Min and Mia Park. We don’t want to have to put you in handcuffs in your current condition so please come with us peacefully.”

“W-What? No absolutely not! I haven’t done anything wrong.”, she said backing herself against the wall.

“Miss Cho, please come with us.”, the officer said inching closer.

“I have not done anything wrong. You have no proof of any of these charges you are putting against me.”

From the corner of the room Jin cleared his throat. “Actually, here are transcripts of texts, voicemails, and emails between Suri and Namjoon as well as the paternity test confirming the identity of her unborn child. Here is the recording that we ourselves obtained of her confessing to blackmailing Yoongi for years.”, he said handing over everything that he had pulled out of his bag. “You guys also have the live feed that you just obtained with the help of Mia.”, Jin reminded them while zipping up his bag before throwing Suri a smug look.

“What?!”, she shouted looking over at the woman still sitting across from you.

“Did you have something to do with this? I asked you for help! How could you betray me like this?”, Suri shouted.

Mia walked over to one of the detectives and gave his cheek a kiss before turning her attention back to Suri with a smirk. She opened up her blouse slightly to reveal a microphone, “Maybe next time you want help breaking the law don’t contact and threaten someone who happens to be married to one of the top detectives in the country.”

Suri looked stunned.

“Miss Cho, it’s time to come with us.”, one of the officers repeated. Suri looked at all of you with tears of anger in her eyes before following after the officers. You felt a sudden sense of relief watching her walk out of your home.

“Well that was eventful. Thank you everyone for your hard work in orchestrating this. I didn’t realize I was surrounded by so many actors. Yoongi and Y/N I’ll be in contact as you will have to be summoned for questioning. Mia, weird seeing you again. Don’t cheat on your husband, he seems nice. Stay classy as always.”, Jin spoke before grabbing his belongings and also heading out the door.

Yoongi walked over to you wrapping an arm around your waist as you both looked over at Mia hoping she’d get the hint. Awkwardly she shuffled her feet while rubbing her arm.

“So I’m glad everything worked out. I was really worried she’d loose it. I had been ignoring her for a while thinking she’d eventually give up on this whole crazy idea, but when she came to me saying she was pregnant and that she was going to claim it wasn’t consensual I knew I had to reach out to you guys. I think she realized everything was starting to fall apart and she was getting desperate and even more delusional.”

“Uh yeah that’s why we decided to get the police involved. Originally we didn’t want to, but the longer this went on and the crazier she got we knew that simply just threatening her wouldn’t do anything.”, Yoongi responded.

“I just feel bad for the baby. That’s the only reason I didn’t want her to get arrested like this.”, you sighed.

Mia smiled, “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll work something out for her. Maybe house arrest or something. I’ll have my husband talk to the prosecutor.”

The air was filled with awkward silence until Mia finally started putting on her coat and heading to the door with you and Yoongi following behind to see her out.

“Maybe we could hang out some time. Go on a double date or something now that we’ve grown up and moved past what happened between us.”, she chuckled looking at Yoongi. You had a hard time reading his expression, but it looked like you could still detect a hint of admiration in his eyes as he looked at his past love. Your heart filled with sadness or maybe jealousy, you weren’t really sure.

“Listen Mia, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us with this Suri situation and I really do thank you. But having you in my life isn’t good for me any more. I’ve spent years hating you and hating myself because of what you did to me. I tried my hardest to make Y/N hate me because I didn’t think I could ever love someone again the way I loved you. I have learned to forgive you though and I’ve finally gotten to a point where I feel that it’s okay to let go of that part of my life and move on while looking forward to the future with Y/N. So we are going to politely decline the invite and while I wish you nothing but happiness for the rest of your life, respectfully please get out of my house and I hope we never have to see each other again.”

You looked on with a shocked expression waiting for her to blow up, but instead she smiled and nodded, “I understand. Glad I could help with this though. Best of luck to you both.”

After the door closed behind her you and Yoongi walked into the kitchen so he could grab a drink. He still seemed a little shaken up. While he was sipping on his water you walked up behind and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I love you.”, you mumbled into his back.

He chuckled before turning around to face you, “I love you too Y/N.” He leaned in to give you a kiss and you reciprocated the action. He winced a little before lightly rubbing his cheek, “I know I agreed to the slap to make it more believable, but I really didn’t think you were going to hit me as hard as you could like that.”

“I know I’m sorry. I got a little carried away, but I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. Plus Mia got me a little more heated than I thought she would when she was saying all that stuff.”, you giggled.

“Yeah something tells me that she wasn’t completely acting.”

You smiled, “Yeah well something tells me I wasn’t completely acting when I called her a selfish, cheating, gold digger either.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer and get a better look at his cheek, “Come here, I’ll kiss it better.”,

He smirked, “Well if that’s the case I have a few other places that are a little sore too.”

Rolling your eyes you grabbed his hand and pulled him down towards the bedroom.

After he was sat down on the bed you straddled his lap and began placing kisses along his jaw and neck, but you quickly noticed he seemed distracted. Pulling away you followed his line of sight and saw that he was staring at his dresser.

“Everything okay?”, you asked getting off of him and taking a seat on the bed instead.

He shook his head before walking over to the dresser grabbing a familiar red bottle. He popped off the top and the room immediately filled with the very familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Something that you had grown to despise. A scent that at one point would make you feel sick to your stomach. Until one day it didn’t and instead it started to smell like the comfort it was advertised as.

Yoongi stared down at the bottle in his hands before he laughed, “Mia first bought me this cologne as a gift for Christmas many years ago. I was never a huge fan of it, but she would always go on and on about how much she loved it. I continued to buy it just to make her happy. Then even after we broke up I still bought it because I didn’t want to let that part of me go. I guess I thought if I kept using this cologne I could trick myself into thinking it never happened and keep that part of my life with me forever.”

He paused for a moment before scoffing to himself, “Looking back that was pretty stupid. The cologne had nothing to do with it and I was just using it to cover up my true emotions that I didn’t want to face.”

You walked over resting your head on his shoulder and began rubbing his back, “It’s not stupid Yoongi. You did what you had to do to cope. You can keep it or you can throw it away and we’ll get you something different. It’s up to you.”

He stared into your eyes before nodding and walking into the bathroom and not long after you heard a loud clank from the glass hitting the bottom of the trash can. A few seconds later he emerged with a gummy smile looking like he felt lighter and happier than he had in a while.

He walked over and placed his hands on your hips before turning you around and falling back onto the bed pulling you on top of him,

“Now Mrs. Min, where were we?”

[bellaxgiornata]

Safe Haven [Chapter Three]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Finally getting another update for this series! There's some domestic abuse mentioned so just remember to always heed the tags because I don't want to spoil future chapters with specific warnings! You also get a Mikey POV at the end--yes, this story will occasionally have his POV!! And I love to scream about Mikey, so always feel free to join me in screaming about him.

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestforthewickedshelby @winterschildren17 @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella2 (tagged your secondary I guess, hope that's ok!) @ms-murdockswift (I apologize if tumblr messed up tags AGAIN)

You jolted awake in bed with a gasp, your heart thrumming heavily in your chest and your thin tee-shirt clinging to your dampened skin. You were lying in a bit of cold sweat along the sheets and breathing hard, blinking rapidly as you tried to remind yourself that you’d only been dreaming. Rolling onto your side, you clutched your pillow tight and buried your face into it in search of comfort. You tried hard to shove back that nightmare which had gripped you so tight, attempting to erase the images from your mind’s eye. 

You hated the mornings you woke up like this, desperately wishing the fear would just disappear. You missed just living your life. It had been so long since you’d been able to sleep without fear of a nightmare holding you under, drowning you in memories you wished to forget. It had been just as long since you’d been able to move somewhere and stay there permanently, without always having the constant need to look over your shoulder and monitor your every action to make sure you didn’t slip up. 

What you were doing wasn’t living.

But you didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter, either. Not if you wanted to stay alive. Because you were positive he’d kill you if he found you this time. The most you could do was find solace in the fact that you had more freedom now than you’d had back then.

With a soft sigh, you unburied your face from the pillow, reaching a hand out to your phone on the nightstand. Your heart was still steadily slowing back down to a normal pace as you tapped the screen, checking the time. It was barely seven in the morning. You figured Megan had already gone into work about thirty minutes ago now. 

You set the phone back down, raising your other hand from out of the sheets and rubbing both of them over your eyes with a groan. There was no way you would manage to fall back asleep after that, you might as well wake up. 

Tossing the sheets off of yourself, you sat upright in the bed and threw your legs over the side. For a moment you just sat there, silently contemplating the day. You figured you’d make a coffee downstairs, grateful that Megan hadn’t switched to being a tea drinker all of the sudden. Maybe you’d go for a walk, orient yourself around this part of Dublin a little more. You were still trying to find a decent coffee shop, one you wouldn’t mind working on your writing in some days just for a change of scenery. And for coffee that was better than the pods Megan had. 

Pushing yourself off the bed, you rose to your feet and grabbed your phone from the charger. Padding along the floor you made your way over to the window, drawing back the curtain to let in the soft, gloomy morning light. From the almost week you’d been here now you’d noticed it seemed to be chilly and rainy more often than not in Dublin. 

You hesitated when the curtain had been entirely pulled back though, your eyes focusing on the bedroom window directly across from yours. You weren’t used to seeing those curtains drawn back in the mornings and it took you a moment to remember last night. Michael’s somber and inquisitive eyes briefly flashed through your memory. Hand tightening around the fabric of the curtain, you remembered the way he’d found you near-panic attack. How he’d looked at you like he could see right through you to your own pain that you tried so hard to desperately hide, as if you couldn’t remotely hide it from him.

Dangerous, you told yourself. It would be dangerous if he could see right through you like that.

Swallowing hard, you pushed away from the window. You didn't want to think about any of that right now.

Making your way downstairs, you took a sharp right turn, walked a few steps down the hall, and turned right into the kitchen. You flipped on the light before you headed over to the coffee machine and turned it on. While that started up, you reached up into a nearby cabinet and found one of Megan’s travel mugs���this one purple–and pulled it down. You set it under the machine before spinning her little coffee pod carousel on the counter beside it, eyeing all the pods that sounded way too sweet for your taste. You smiled when you found a single breakfast blend and immediately popped it into the machine, waiting while your coffee brewed.  

It was barely ten minutes later that you found yourself bundled in your lightweight parka with the steaming mug of coffee in your hands. You exited the house, pulling the door shut and locking it behind yourself before tossing the house key into your coat pocket. Turning, you began to make your way down the short drive, your shoes trudging over the pavement. But when you rounded the tall stone fence, you unexpectedly almost ran headfirst into someone.

“Shit!” you shouted.

A bit of hot coffee spilled out of the open lid of your mug when you’d abruptly startled backwards, the liquid burning your hands.

“Fuck, m’sorry!”

You shook your hand beside you, trying to shake off the hot coffee as you sucked in a breath from the stinging pain of it. At least the cold air felt good against your hand.

“Didn’t burn yourself, did ya?”

Glancing up at the deep accented voice, you finally realized who it was that you’d run into. Michael. He was staring back at you with his brows furrowed and his eyes creased in concern, the corners of his mouth downturned in a deep set frown. He looked so sorrowful. 

Forcing a smile onto your mouth, you shook your head. “No, no I’m good. Don’t worry about it,” you assured him. “You just uh, startled me is all.”

"M'sorry," he apologized again, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. "I didn't hear ya comin'."

"It's–it's fine, really," you assured him. 

"We really should stop meetin' like this, yeah?" he said, a nervous chuckle falling out of him.

Both of your hands tightened around your mug, the warmth of it heating you as you watched him. "Like what, exactly?" you asked.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck as he ducked his head, averting his eyes from you. Was he really this timid? Bashful, even? That was…unexpected. 

"Awkwardly," he answered. 

Quirking a brow, you eyed him curiously. "Is there a better way to literally run into someone?" you asked. 

“Well I–I don’t uh,” he began, a slight grimace tightening his features as he fumbled for words. “Just sayin’ this isn’ exactly how I’d choose to meet ya again, I s’pose.”

Your brow rose even higher at his words. Had you flustered the Irish mobster fresh out of prison? What the hell did that mean?

Head tilting to the side, you couldn’t help the question that escaped your lips despite your better judgment. “And how would you choose to meet me then?” you asked.

He froze, his head still ducked down but his eyes finding you underneath his dark lashes. His mouth had fallen open at your question, his brows raising up onto his own forehead. He looked stunned that you’d so brazenly asked him that, but you didn’t remotely back down as you focused on him before you. Even though everything inside of you was screaming to end the conversation and carry on with your day, you somehow found yourself fascinated by him yet again. 

“I–I s’pose I don’t know,” he muttered, pink tinging his cheeks. 

You nodded, bringing your mug to your lips for a drink. After swallowing down the comforting and warm liquid, your tongue slipped out to catch the drops that had gotten onto your lips. Michael’s eyes were drawn to the movement of your tongue before you caught them flickering back up to your own.

“Well,” you began, your mind still screaming 'danger' and 'run away' as you eyed him, “I’ll let you get back to your day.”

“Right, yeah,” he said softly.

You turned and continued on your way past the fence at the exact same moment Michael had continued on his way, the pair of you falling in step beside each other unintentionally. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you bit your lip as Michael’s gaze fell on his feet. A genuine chuckle fell out of him before he glanced up, his eyes meeting yours again. For a moment you found yourself suddenly lost in them, coming to a stop on the street.

There was a lot hidden in his eyes, just under the brown and flecks of green. You found yourself losing yourself in the depth of them, drawn into whatever was lying just behind all that darkness and pain so obvious on the surface. It felt like if you stared long enough, his eyes gradually gave way to something light and gentle buried just beneath it all. As if you searched just a little deeper you’d find the man he seemed to keep locked away in there, one he didn’t let out often. It wasn’t until you heard his voice that you fell out of whatever strange trance you’d somehow briefly lost yourself in. 

“I was goin’ on a walk this way,” he muttered. “Towards the shops. Been awhile since I uh, could go to them.”

Blinking hard, you tried to collect yourself. “Yeah I was–was going that way myself. Still sort of new here and all,” you said. 

“D’ya–” Michael paused, a nervous little huff of laughter breaking his question as he glanced away from you. “D’ya want some company? I mean I can’t show ya around or anythin’–haven't been here in a few years and all–but I–I was already goin’ that way.”

For once it was your turn to glance away nervously, your gaze dropping down towards your coffee mug. You found yourself conflicted. 

On the one hand, it was incredibly reckless to continue to let one of these Kinsellas into your life. To put yourself on their radar. The deeper in you got with them, the closer they might become to discovering you weren’t who you said you were. And you had absolutely no idea how they would react to that knowledge, even if they ever could understand the reasoning behind it. It wasn’t necessarily in your best interest to befriend one of them and risk jeopardizing your life here–in whatever way that might mean.

But on the other hand, you couldn’t deny your gut wanted you to say yes. You weren’t blind, Michael was an attractive man. And it had certainly been awhile since you’d actually been able to be physically intimate with someone–something you wouldn’t exactly bat an eye at if he ever was interested in a fling. And if you were being honest with yourself, you admittedly wanted to know more about this man and that sadness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. You wanted to catch more glimpses of that softheartedness he seemed to keep hidden away. 

But under no circumstances could you let yourself get too close to him.

“You know what? Why not,” you said after a moment, shoulder rising and falling in a shrug.

Michael’s head rose, his eyes falling on you with a faint look of surprise in them. “Yeah?” he asked.

You shrugged a shoulder again, shooting him a friendly smile. If you were going to fuck your plan to lay low up a bit, you might as well enjoy doing it.

“Yeah,” you said, continuing on walking as he fell in step beside you once again. “Maybe you’ll keep me from getting lost.”

“Well I s’pose I can manage that,” he said.

As the pair of you walked on, turning down another street and making your way out of the neighborhood, you couldn’t help but notice the small smile now residing on his mouth. Raising your cup to your lips, your arm brushing against his with how close he was beside you, you drank down more of your coffee. Momentarily your eyes closed, reveling in the drink. It wasn’t the same as what you usually drank at the coffee shops you’d discovered over the years, but it was coffee, and right now that was enough.

“So why’re ya up so early?” Michael eventually asked, breaking the silence.

You swallowed down your drink, your eyes opening and focusing on where you were going as you spoke. “I couldn’t sleep. So I decided to just get up,” you admitted. “You?”

“Same,” he replied, turning to look at you. “Why couldn’t ya sleep?”

Your head spun towards him, shooting him a pointed look as you raised a brow. “Why couldn’t you sleep, Mr. Kinsella?”

His mouth curved into a grin, the brightness reaching his eyes. “I can’t tell ya that now can I?”

The corner of your own mouth tugged up into a sarcastic grin in response. “Then I suppose you understand why I can’t tell you that, either,” you quipped.

He laughed lightly and your smile grew at the transformation you saw overtake his features. He looked vastly lighter than you’d yet to see him. Like a heavy weight had briefly been lifted from his shoulders. If you’d thought he’d looked attractive before, all dark and brooding, he was certainly handsome with his eyes crinkled at the corners and a dimple barely visible just beneath his dark beard.

“Ahh, a woman of mystery, yeah?” he teased.

Your eyes instantly darted away towards your feet, the smile faltering on your lips. Clearing your throat quickly, you forced a shrug that seemed indifferent. “I wouldn’t say that,” you said, trying hard to keep your voice even. 

“Well, I’m sure by now ya already know ‘bout me,” he said, his tone suddenly softer.

“I don’t, actually,” you told him.

The pair of you turned another corner, a handful of shops and restaurants coming into view. You’d come this way yesterday and gotten acquainted with a few places in the area, but today you were hoping to find a coffee shop to maybe try out tomorrow morning when you inevitably couldn’t sleep again.

“No?” he asked curiously.

“I told you,” you began, taking in the sight of his surprised face yet again beside you, “I just moved here a few days ago.”

“So ya don’t know anythin’?” he pressed.

Sighing, your fingers drummed against the coffee mug in your hands. You needed to tread carefully here. He probably wouldn’t be too thrilled if you straight up called him out on being part of an Irish mob that sold drugs. Granted, that was about the extent of your knowledge because you’d intentionally not gone digging into the Kinsellas.

“I know you just came back from prison yesterday,” you confessed. “My sister chats with Birdy, apparently. But that’s about all I know besides your name.”

“And ya still…decided to come on this walk with me? Knowin’ that?” he asked curiously.

“Figured you wouldn’t hurt me in public at least,” you joked, glancing back at him.

Something flickered behind his eyes so quickly you almost didn’t catch it before he laughed lightly and looked away. But you’d certainly caught it. Sorrow and regret.

So he’s hurt people, maybe more than that. That really shouldn’t come as a shock, but somehow it did. The man beside you right now seemed far too gentle for that. You’d figured his sentence was related to the drug dealing and money laundering you expected his family did, but now you wondered how injudicious your joke had actually been. It's not like you knew the reasoning for his actions.

“I’m sorry, that was a poor joke,” you apologized. 

“I was tellin’ the truth last night,” he muttered as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark brown jacket. “I’m not goin’ to hurt ya.”

“Okay,” you said softly.

His head turned towards you, his brows furrowing. “Ya don’t believe me?” he asked, hurt evident in his tone.

“No, no it’s not necessarily that it’s just–” you stopped short, your lips still parted as you tried to think of a way to explain yourself.

His hazel eyes were boring into you as both of you slowed on the sidewalk. It felt like he was looking right through you again, just like he’d done last night at the window. As if he was seeing through every wall you’d ever constructed to keep everyone out. It was unsettling and your heart began to rapidly pound in your chest under the weight of his scrutiny.

“You’ve been hurt before, yeah?” he asked gently.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling to find the words to tell him he was wrong, to keep him from further seeing through you like this, but nothing was coming out. Abruptly you came to a stop, ready to turn and bolt. How had he seen that so easily?

“Hey, ’s’alright,” he murmured as he stopped beside you.

But it wasn't alright. Because his voice was in your damn head again, as if he was right there hissing his venomous words into your ear like the snake he is. You flinched, eyes closing instantly.

"How about I slice you open for each time you've tried to run?"

Teeth snapping together and jaw clenching shut, your fingers gripped the mug between your hands until they ached. A sharp exhale blew from your nose as you took a shaky step back, your eyes still firmly closed.

“Grace?” Michael’s hesitant voice rang out. “Ya okay?”

You could see the knife so clearly in your mind again as your body trembled on the sidewalk. It was like you were there again, right in front of him. You could see the intimidating way he so effortlessly tossed the black handle of the blade back and forth between his hands, his eyes honed in on you like you were a wounded animal he’d finally cornered.

“I’m always going to find you,” he growled. “Because you’re mine , you hear me? There isn’t anywhere you can run from me here, girl. And each time you try,” he continued, extending the knife in his hand towards your stomach, “I’m going to add another cut. But if you piss me off enough?” He leaned in towards you, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl as he raised the knife, the blade grazing the skin of your neck. “I’ll take your pretty little fucking head.”

“Grace!”

Your eyes flew open, Michael’s face just inches from yours. His hands were firmly gripping your shoulders, fingers digging in past your jacket. His eyes were full of fear and worry as they jumped back and forth between your own, searching for something. 

“Fuckin’ hell, ya alright?” Michael asked.

Swallowing hard, you shook your head, trying to force back the memory. Your breath was coming in hard and fast, your knees shaking beneath you. How had Michael made you come undone like that? How the hell could he see you more clearly than everyone else? You didn’t like it, whatever it was. It made you uncomfortable.

Taking a firm step back from him, Michael’s hands released your shoulders, his hands hovering in the air between you both. His expression fell at the noticeable distance you’d just placed between the pair of you. 

“I–I should go,” you stuttered out, gesturing a thumb behind you. “This–this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Grace, wait,” Michael said, taking a step closer.

Instinctively you took another step back, forcing a tight smile onto your lips as you willed them to stop trembling. “Enjoy your walk, Michael,” you said quickly.

You turned, swiftly walking back down the sidewalk in the direction you’d just come with your head ducked low into your jacket and your mug clutched to your chest. Tears were stinging at your eyes as you tried to shove that memory into the far back corners of your mind. You’d find a coffee shop another day.

Mikey was stretched out along his sofa with a book in his lap, though it had been open to the same page for a while now. He’d barely been able to focus on it, his mind kept wandering back to when he’d seen Anna pass by the restaurant near her school earlier today, the one he'd sat at to hopefully catch a glimpse of her. 

And he had. She’d looked so grown since last he’d seen her; less like a child and more like the young woman she was fast becoming. It had taken everything inside of him to remain sitting in that booth and not go bolting out of the door just to say hello to her. He’d missed her so much and had missed out on so much of her life. It physically pained him how much he'd missed.

But he was going to do his best to stay straight and get the courts to let him have a relationship with his daughter now that he was out. He would do whatever he could in his power to make that happen. He needed to be in her life, in whatever capacity he could. Nothing else was more important to him.

A knock at Michael's front door caught his attention, breaking through his thoughts.

His eyes rose from his book, glancing down the hall to his front door. His brows drew together as he wondered who it would be stopping by his place tonight. Jimmy, maybe? 

With a sigh he closed his book, tossing it onto the coffee table before he rose to his feet. He made his way out of the sitting room and down the hall past his kitchen. He could see the unmistakable silhouette of Birdy through the dark glass of his front door as he reached it. The second he opened the door he was met with her bright smile.

"Good evenin', pet," she greeted him warmly. "Ya mind if I come in? Brought ya some food."

Michael's eyes dropped down to the covered dish she was carrying in both of her hands. He couldn't fight the small smile on his mouth as he stepped aside and invited her in. Birdy had always been like a mother to him, always looking out for him and his brother. Apparently that hadn't changed. 

"Thank ya, Birdy," he told her as she headed straight for the refrigerator in the kitchen, "but ya didn’t have to do that."

"I had to make sure ya had something home-cooked after all that time ya were away, dear," she called back. "And I'll see about getting ya some more things."

"Ya don't need to do that," Michael told her as he made his way back to the sitting room and over to the sofa. "I don't want to make extra work for ya."

"It's no trouble at all, pet," Birdy told him, making her way down the hallway towards him. "'S'what family does for each other." She paused in the doorway of the sitting room, shooting Michael a smile. "Missed havin' ya around, Mikey. We all have. All of us were just waitin' for ya to get out."

Michael smiled, nodding in response. He had certainly missed everyone as well–though most of all he’d missed Anna. 

Birdy adjusted the jacket she was wearing, the smile never faltering on her face. "Was especially hard on Frank," she continued. "And your brother. It was tough on them without ya. Carryin' the load all on their own. I mean Eric is–is a good boy," she told him, her eyes softening as she gazed back at him, a small shrug pulling up her shoulders. "But he's not you."

Michael's smile lessened a little. He knew what Birdy was getting at–Frank wanted him back and working for them again. But he wouldn't do that. Not this time. He needed a proper job so he had a chance to actually see his daughter again. He wouldn't be swayed. 

"But you're back now," Birdy said, pushing off the wall and making her way towards Michael. "That's the important thing."

"Yeah," Michael agreed, nodding lightly. 

Closing the distance between them, Birdy gently grasped his face in her hands before leaning down towards him on the sofa, planting a light kiss to the top of his head. Michael’s eyes momentarily closed at the bit of affection despite being all too aware of her ulterior motives for this visit. 

"Ya understand what I'm sayin," she continued, pulling away from him, her hands still cupping his cheeks. "I know ya do. You're not like your mother. You're a Kinsella. And we stick together." Something caught her eye out of the back door, her attention lingering on it as she spoke. "Always." 

When her hands fell from his face, Michael glanced out behind him towards what had caught Birdy's focus. It was you, pacing around the back garden on your phone with a glass of wine in one hand. You looked upset as you spoke, the light from the back of your half-sister’s house shining just enough for him to see your expression.

“Interestin’ one, that one is,” Birdy said softly.

Michael’s brows instantly drew together at her tone, a crease forming between them. He recognized that tone–it meant you’d done something to draw Birdy’s attention. She thought there was something off about you. Something that warranted looking into. 

For some reason that made Michael uncomfortable.

She wasn’t wrong though, you were interesting. Especially after the encounter he’d had with you today. You’d panicked at the mention of having been hurt before, practically shutting down and almost falling into a panic attack right there on the footpath. Clearly, you had a past. One that must’ve been fairly dark to make you react like that. He’d noticed it almost instantly, just from looking at your face, because he saw that same haunted expression reflecting back at him in the mirror every damn day. 

“Why do ya say that, Birdy?” he asked curiously, looking over at her.

“She’s not like her sister,” Birdy answered slowly, her eyes still tracking your movements around the garden. “There’s somethin’ more to her, I can just feel it.” Her attention shifted towards Michael, one of her brows raising up onto her forehead. “What’s your take on her, pet? I saw ya with her this mornin’.”

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise. The smile only grew further on Birdy’s mouth, a knowing look crossing her face. 

“Ya sweet on her, Mikey?” she asked, her eyes briefly flickering outside to you before returning back to him. “I don’t blame ya, she’s cute. Certainly an interestin’ young thing, yeah?” Birdy’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “What’s her story, pet?”

“Don’t know,” Michael answered honestly. “She only just moved here from the States. Lives with her sister. I know ‘bout as much as ya.”

“Yeah?” Birdy asked, eyeing Michael closely. “I notice ya didn’t answer my other question. Ya sweet on the girl?”

Heat crept over Michael’s cheeks, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as his gaze dropped down towards his hands. “Like I said,” he answered, his voice a lot quieter than before, “I don’t really know her.”

Birdy hummed out a noise, the sound catching Michael’s attention. She was staring back at him with that knowing look on her face again. Michael swallowed hard, his hands nervously fidgeting in his lap as his cheeks only heated a little further.

“Just be careful, love,” Birdy told him, zipping her jacket up. “And don’t go sharin’ the family secrets.”

Michael huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Ya know I wouldn’, Birdy.”

“Well if ya find out what’s off ‘bout the girl, ya come tellin’ me,” she said, a firm look on her face. “Ya hear me, Michael? We gotta look out for the family.”

“Yeah, I hear ya, Birdy,” he answered. “But I think you’re off on this one.”

Birdy playfully pointed a finger at his chest as she said, “My gut’s never been wrong before, pet.”

Michael swallowed hard, running a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck. He didn’t know how to respond because Birdy generally did have a knack for reading people, and he had noticed something off about you himself. But he’d also thought you’d seemed…sweet. 

“Make sure ya eat somethin’,” Birdy said, gesturing a hand behind her towards the kitchen. “Don’t want ya becomin’ skin and bone on us. And Frank said to speak with Amanda at the dealership tomorrow for work.”

“Thank ya,” he answered quickly.

“Don’t thank me, pet,” Birdy said, turning and making her way out of the sitting room. “Ya know where I think ya belong. G’night, Mikey.”

“G’night, Birdy,” he called out.

It was a moment before Birdy exited, closing the door softly behind herself on the way out. Michael rose to his feet from the sofa, about to head over and lock the door behind her, but then he glanced out his back door and spotted you. 

You were still out there, pacing the back garden on the phone. Except now you’d lost the glass of wine, your hand running roughly through your hair. You were very obviously stressed about whatever that phone call was about. He found himself contemplating stepping outside when you got off the phone. Maybe he could find a way to apologize for upsetting you this morning. 

But no, he told himself, breaking his gaze from you, he’d only upset you further. He was sure of it. More than likely he’d make an ass of himself with how awkward he was, and you seemed rather private yourself–not that he didn’t relate. It wouldn’t be a good idea. 

Though as he made his way down the hall to his front door, clicking the lock into place, he found himself hoping for another stolen moment with you. He was strangely craving the sound of your voice already and wondering what it would sound like to hear you laugh. To see a genuine smile light up your face.

Michael paused as he turned away from the front door, surprised by his own thoughts. Was Birdy right, then? Was he sweet on you?

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 22

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.4k

a/n: Hi, I am back. Thank you for your patience and kind messages.

This is a peak for the story, next chapter is indeed the wedding and then the story picks up a bit. I am excited for this next leg.

Happy Double Update, read chapter 23 here

Javier Peña says the words often. Javier’s first words were love and papi. He was his dads best little buddy so it came as no surprise that the first words he ever formed were a manifestation of how much he loves his father. He ended every night with an I love you. He hung his Houston home phone after sharing his farewells and I love you’s. 

It was easy to know how loving someone feels, but sometimes Javier got confused. 

He told his first girlfriend in 6th grade that he loved her. He isn’t sure he could remember her name so he’s sure he was confused that time too. He told Lorraine he loved her, often, in passing and sometimes he felt guilty about it. He sometimes pictured telling her in some grandiose way but their relationship had quickly progressed to the likeliness of a separated couple. So in Houston, if they weren’t fighting; she’d squeeze his shoulder and say, I love you, goodnight. 

Or when Javier was in the force he’d kiss her cheek and say, Love you, after she said, be safe. He feels bad about it, he feels bad because he might have confused her. Maybe she thought his love you’s before work were declarations of the act of being in love. He realizes that he was never in love with Lorraine. He loved her, he spent many years with her. At many lonely points in his life he considered her his only companion, his friend. For a while he thought all of that was good enough, a fathers love and scattered I love yous from an estranged girlfriend. 

Then Javier thinks of you and he isn’t sure he can get confused anymore. He can pinpoint the switch, the moment where his heart couldn't take anymore of his own games. It would be easy to say it was the second he saw your face when he came home but that wasn’t it. He’s sure he fell in love with you while he was with Lorraine. What a painful realization to have?  He’s been trying really hard to be a better man, but that fact right there— it sets him back. 

He remembers picking that orange out of your locker, he remembers desperately attempting to extend your interaction. He had been up in arms thinking about you, your face circling his brain during inappropriate moments. But as he followed you around the hall, chest constricting with every one of your movements, smiles, sighs—he knew he was a bad man. 

But in between the constant state of repentance for loving you while having someone else in his bed—he found himself basking in his love for you. Like on the drive back from your lacrosse game. It was rare that he rode alone, but Lorraine had work after the game. He pressed a goodbye to her cheek as she hopped in a friend's car. Standing at top of the hill, where the parking lot overlooked the field. You were still there, standing with wind bitten cheeks and dirt up the sides of your legs. Mouth guard dangling between your lips with a scowl as your friend Monica talked your ear off in between squirts of water.

Javier felt light headed and hard. He patted his pocket for his keys and turned on his heels to  quickly find refuge in his dad’s truck. 

He rolled his windows down when (I love you) For Sentimental Reasons by The Righteous Brothers rang through his truck speakers. Tapping the wheel, singing off key and picturing you blinking your pretty warm eyes at him with a shy smile like you did. He felt utterly ridiculous when he slowed at a red light and was faced with just how loud he was being. Tilting his baseball cap tighter to conceal his face as he mumbled the rest of the song. 

He realized he was in love with you in that truck.

He tells you in that truck half a decade later. 

And there is no singing, or wheel tapping. There certainly wasn’t a Texan breeze instead still heat down in the bayou. And you aren’t covered in dirt and amused, instead covered in tears and frozen. Your face crinkling with another wave of emotion as you lean your temple against the window. Brows creased, face covered in red blotches. “You—what?” You made a face like it was so shocking. Like you hadn’t been trying to tell him all weekend. 

“I said that I really love you.” He isn’t backing down, his voice is stern and unmoved. Despite wanting to crumble into you and hold you until you stop crying, he knows he can’t be weak here. With the same stern tone he follows a bit quieter, “And I’m not sayin’ it in the way I should’ve told you when we were kids—when you needed it the most, but I'm telling you now so you don’t doubt it.” When he had to be firm and strong a slight southern drawl rolls from his lips, he pulls from his father when he needs to be firm. Picking up on his linguistic patterns when it’s needed. 

Your cries are no longer audible but instead just cheeks lined clear. “Javi-“

“Loving you is easy, being in love with you has been much easier.” He turns forward once more, cranking the ancient truck with a rumble that hides another audible sob from you. “I’ll take us home. And when we’re home I’ll take care of you–I don’t care how it’ll look to your mom or your fuckin’ big brother.” And he begins to drive. Almost angry with his movements like he’s bothered that you’re shocked by his love. His jaw clenched as he drove away from the rolling lawns of rich Lousianians. There was no way of reading his mind but truthfully, he wasn’t upset with you–Javier? Never. He was running circles in his own head, fighting the urge to make a u-turn and beat your father to a pulp.

Instead he talks to keep you distracted more so himself. 

At that moment you wished you didn’t need to be cared for, but if it was anyone in charge of that job–you could only pray it was him. You hiccup.

“My feelings for you changed when I saw you in 7/11 all those years ago. I tried to act like seeing you like that didn’t fuck with me. I was crushin’ on you so badly I started acting like a damn fool.” He makes a sharp turn and you stare at him behind blurry eyes. “I’m sorry for taking so long to tell you. I know you’ve wanted to say it for a while. I couldn’t find it fair, I put you–us through all of this. I should be the one to say it first.” He sniffles and reaches a hand to the overhead compartment, taking his yellow tinted sunglasses. Effectively covering his eyes. 

It’s silent for a moment until you scoff. The sound has Javier’s neck snapping, it’s the first sound other than sobs. Your nostrils flare, and you almost laugh. Laugh at all of it. Laugh at the years you spent pining over someone who felt the same, at how stupid this all was. How you put so much value on a man who never bothered to find you or even care. Javier looks at you with concern as you short stop at a red light, he’s probably thinking you’ve gone mad. Giggling to yourself through red eyes. 

“You’ve always gotta beat me to it huh? You called me first, kissed me first, said I love you first. Shoot–even when we were kids, I would ignore you out of shyness but you always came running to say hi to personally torture a timid girl like me.” You shake your head and wipe your tears. You used to find it cruel, the way Javier had to always center you in every setting you were in. After every first move he’d make, you sat in your bed later that day thinking–damn if only I had done it before him. 

His lips twitched at their corners, his beautiful smile shining through, shaking his head and looking straight back at the changing light. “You snooze, you lose, baby.” He shrugs and steps on the gas. You sniffle still smiling, god you had whiplash from the emotions flowing through you. For now, for this moment, you were something that felt like content. Free maybe, free of a father who seemed to have his own head in his ass anyway. You were sad, yes, heartbroken even, but man did you feel lighter. You look to your boyfriend as he drives the car you practically grew up in. Sitting in the same seat you’ve sat in hundreds of times before. And you’re just so glad to be next to him. 

“Well then, I really love you too Javier.” 

His brow wrinkles above the shades, “I know.”

Four hours into the ten hour trip the two of you had stopped three times. It was late at night already, the two of you won’t make it until four am the next day at least. As the sun sets Javier asks you if Laredo feels like home to you. 

You wish you weren't so embarrassed about your answer. 

“Well, it didn’t feel like home when I was in Miami. I would come home for break and the house felt so empty. Frankie and Genie were traveling, and you were gone and Monica moved away–Liandra was abroad. I cried every night of January, missing the way it used to be. So I guess it feels like home when everyone’s home.”

Javi could have predicted the answer because it was the same for him. The emptiest he had ever felt was when he came home a few months ago to no one but his father. Laredo was home because of the people who loved him. 

Laredo felt like home this time around, it didn’t surprise him that New Orleans felt like home this weekend. Maybe it was because you were beside him.

Javi fell asleep at the wheel and you had to steer for a split second. It scared him so badly he allowed you to drive to the nearest motel. When you offered to drive the next stretch he looked to you with a firm scowl and that idea died fast. Locking up the car and paying a skeptically low price in between the border of Texas and Louisiana. 

The two of you crash in bed, your legs sprawled over his chest like a koala. He holds your head in the crook of his neck. If you weren’t so tired you would have taken advantage of another night alone. You tried, slowly making out-all tongue and quiet moans. Until he began to snore and you followed suit. 

Slapping the alarm at 6 am. Brushing your teeth, showering and changing into tiny shorts and a tank. Javier nearly chokes at the sight of you. 

The two of you head out on the road again.

 You’re sad once again once you gain sight of your house. Afraid to face your mother, knowing what you know. Afraid to sympathize with her in a way you never have before. You begin to cry again, practically begging Javier to turn around, begging him to drive to another motel. 

He promises to take you inside, “I’ll talk to her baby, I’ll take care of it. Let me take care of it.” He lets you breathe for a bit while he unloads your bags from the trunk. His sunglasses pushed over his hair, he somehow opened your door for you with busy hands. Leaning against the car, awaiting your strength.

Shutting your eyes tightly, once, then twice, blinking sense into your body. You step out into the stiff heat of home. Hair pooling at the front of your chest, sticking to your face in its natural waves, your eyes swollen, tips of your fingers brushing under your lashes. Drying all that you could. Javier stares at the ground and the two of you cross the street. 

“You head up to your room and unpack, I’ll talk to your mom. I’ll tell her to give you space. She can gather herself before the two of you– you know.” His hand grips the strap of your bag, how desperately he wished his hands were free so he could hold yours. You nod anyway, your own fingers coming up once more to feel the earring pierced in your lobe. It provides a strange swell in Javier’s chest. He was being so kind, offering to talk to your mother but you knew it had to be you first. How you ached to be taken care of, this though, this you had to do. You were in pain, what's a little more?

The front door is open anyway, you step through. 

Frankie, Genie and Melissa are all sat at the island. Frankie’s brows screwed in confusion, a smile splitting Genie’s face and Melissa with a frown. 

To hell with doing this on my own. 

“I’m going to unpack!” You blurt before anyone could utter a hello.

Startling everyone you run upstairs without your bags. Leaving Javier in the entryway with far too many bags for a weekend stay. Flip flops making a shockingly loud noise on the carpeted stairs. You turn the corner, your hands fumbling at the familiar coolness of your doorknob. You throw yourself into bed and immediately begin to panic. To hell with your dad, why was everyone here, for crying out loud? Of all times your selfish brother could stop by– today! You hoped to god Javier was down there using his DEA sweet talking skills. 

God it would be so much easier to snoop if this house wasn’t so damn massive. Goddamn inheritance.

 “Is she alright?” Genevieve asks, setting her tea down. Her shirt is tight enough to reveal the slightest formation of a bump. Frankie is giving Javier a death stare, all serious. Javier chuckles, setting down the bags and walking over to the bar in which they all huddled. Melissa hurried to pour him a glass of sweet tea. Javier nods a thank you. He hopes this conversation is quick so he could come upstairs with you. 

“She–” He sips, his eyes locked with Frankies. He’s trying to kill him with his mind, Javi thinks. He gets it for a second, showing up a day late with his sister who had obviously been crying. Thank god your hair was down, you had been marked up with hickies from the weekend. Javier changed his gaze and locked in on Melissa. “She met her father yesterday.”

Melissa did something Javier has never seen her do. The overly friendly yet passive aggressive lady, the total asshole that ran the Diaz household–Melissa Diaz– dropped her head in shame. 

Burying her face in her hands, not crying, no she doesn’t do that. She breathes slowly through her nose, muttering tiny sentences in Spanish, perhaps prayer. But Javier was distracted by her, distracted enough to miss Frankie having the same reaction. Muttering a Fuck, earning a squeeze from Genevieve. 

Melissa looks up from her hands, a wrecked expression–something between anxious and heartbroken. Javier felt so out of place delivering this news. “So she knows.” 

He nods, his attention turning back to Frankie who was now pacing with the bridge of his nose pinched. Javier understands Melissa, he understands why she never told you. Javier heard all that your father said, it truly had sounded like one of the most heart wrenching experiences a young mother could go through. But Frankie– “You knew?” Javier’s voice booms, he never wants to fight with your brother but Javier’s protective side is noxious. 

Frankie shakes his head, his hand dropping. “Course’ I knew!” He shouts back. 

“Tone it down!” Genie shouts and like always, Frankie listens with a deep breath. Javier calms it too, standing feet away from someone he calls his best friend. He wasn’t sure if that was even the case anymore, maybe if it was ever the case. 

“She was too damn sensitive. We were waiting until she was ready to let her know.” Frankie shakes his head, his eyes locking on the image hanging behind Javier’s head. You with a window space between your teeth in the first grade, eyes shut mid image. Javi has passed the image a million times, he knows the one from the way Frankies angry eyes settle. They settle in the way everyones does when they think of her, when they think of you.

“She’s twenty two.This experience was really hard for her–the-the things he said to her, Frankie.” He’s nearly choked up, his hand shaking as he gestures at the stairs, the anger was building in his chest and it wouldn’t go down. He turns to your mother whose eyes were wide and glassed “And Ms. Diaz, I sympathize with you. I really do. But you knew she was going to see him–she told you and all you could do was make her feel more alone. Threatening to kick her out?”

Frankie’s eyes snapped to his mothers now. “Mom? What?” Her lip quivered and for the first time in her life Frankie looked at his mother as if she wasn't a perfect reflection of mother Mary. Genie scoffs too. For a moment Javi feels bad for her, then his eyes fall to the fridge, fall onto a christmas magnet. Holding up a picture of the two of them on the couch of the church basement, her in a ridiculous dress and him in that cable knit sweater he loved once. 

In black ink,

A.D (16) y J.P (17) 1979.

And he’s reminded of the holidays. 

“I didn’t mean it. She just never listens to me. I told her not to go.” Her voice shook and there were tears, Javier had never seen the woman cry before. Not in this way. “She has a family here, I was hurt that she wanted a relationship with that man!”

Frankies furrowed brow relaxes for a moment and he’s back under the spell of his mother, he steps closer and Genie grabs her hand in comfort. “Mom, it’s alright–”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Javier laughs, rubbing his tired eyes. His eyes are tired of yellow lines, green lights and tearful eyes of the woman he loves. So fucking tired of being the only one who can see clearly even through all this exhaustion. The three shot glances back at Javier. Frankie scoffs an, how dare you curse in front of my crying mother sort of scoff. “You rarely treated that girl like family. She spent Thanksgiving with me! My dad has thrown her birthday parties since she was fourteen! I carried her to my house and my dad patched her knees. So I’m sorry that Andrea’s interest in a family elsewhere hurt your feelings.” Genie has covered her mouth in shock and the looks on your family's face could only be compared to one of a child who was just reprimanded by a teacher.

With his chest rising and falling in anger, Javier points at the fridge. Your mothers eyes snap to the polaroid image of a young tired you and a grinning Javier. 

“Andrea was fifteen in 1979.”

You fell asleep by the time Javier comes up to say goodbye. He watches you curled in a ball in the middle of your bed and he yearns to sneak in next to you. But he couldn't. Instead he opened your drawers and sat at the edge of your bed sorting your luggage. You surely did overpack, he feels a bit guilty for not giving you enough time to dress in all the pretty things you folded neatly. The silence rings out in your room, just enough for him to hear the mess he made down in the kitchen. He stayed as quiet as possible to  hear the bickering from upstairs. 

How dare he speak to me that way! He hears your mothers muffled screech. He also hears words of I’m calling his father. He snickers at that, how stupid. Shaking his head and placing your shorts in your second drawer (the one with the carving of your name in it, where all your shorts went) he surprisingly hears your brother respond. 

He–had a point mom, we haven’t been the best to her. You know that.

Javier freezes with his brows shot high. Javi never really included your brother in the blame until recently. In high school he just thought his best friend was an immature shitty older brother– that's the way brothers were. But the older Javier got older the more he thought about you, the more he thought about your mother and your brother. The more bitter the taste on his tongue settled. From the recent stern talks he had with Frankie he saw that he cared but for things that truly didn’t matter as much. Scalding in anger at the thought of his sister with Javi but completely indifferent to the neglect he cosigned. 

Javier never thought he would hear Frankie agree with him on this topic. So he stayed frozen and quiet enough to hear him.

We tried–I tried. Melissa cries. Javier finds it hard to feel any sympathy for your mother.

Obviously not hard enough–thanksgiving! 

Was that true? She spent thanksgiving alone? Genie’s voice slipped in. 

There was a scoff, It was only three times! 

Javier decides to stop listening.

You wake up at eight in the night and realize your sleep schedule is fucked. You had a week to recover. The upcoming Saturday was finally the wedding and the second round of summer school doesn't pick up again until the end of June. You felt Javier kiss you goodbye in your slumber. You also knew at about 6 pm your mother slipped into your room and spoke to your half asleep body. Your back faced her as your body slept but your mind wasn’t. You could hear words unspoken by her once before. You almost heard sniffling but you weren’t sure. 

He wasn’t ready and I was. I was so angry–I’m still so angry and I take it out on you–Andrea, forgive me. She kisses your shoulder, and your mind tells you to flinch but your sleepy body leans into her rare affection. 

She says I’m sorry, I’m sorry I don’t know to be your mother. 

You're not comforted but you're relieved to hear it. 

You chose not to forgive her. But you listen while she tells you the story of your life in all honesty for the first time. 

Your mom doesn't ask you to take care of your baby sister, you offer it instead. You watch her practice her wedding speech. She cries at each attempt and if you weren’t so upset you would laugh with her about it. You miss Javier dearly, it's only been a day but you suppose you’ve been spoiled rotten by the weekend away. You think of calling him the second you woke up but you decide to cool it. You pick up your sister from the living room floor and walk her around the neighborhood in the new stroller your step-dad bought. You saw them in a catalog a few months back, gasped at the price and closed it quickly. 

You suppose it was nice to be alone, you spent the entire walk thinking of your father, of your mother. You pictured your half sisters, people who hadn’t been a thought in your head until two days ago. You wondered if they suffered differently, maybe they suffered more having a man so cold in their lives. On your way to the park you pass a flyer for Peña’s Ranch Hand, and you don’t cry about your father for the first time. You walk right past the park and end up at Chucho Peña’s residence. Not for Javier, just for his father. 

Don Chucho is smiling ear to ear when he finds you with little Sol, he says “Javi isn’t home mama.” You laugh and surprise him by saying you were here to see him. 

You recline your napping sister and sit at the dinner table, served with sweet tea. You laugh for a few hours while he tells you stories of a young Javier accidentally overfeeding his first fish named, papi, because that was the only word he knew. He tells you he would smell the weed from the basement almost every time, you drop your face in your hands in embarrassment. You all truly thought you were insulation masters with the door crack stuffed with towels. “That smell came straight upstairs, I was just happy you guys weren’t out on the streets you know.”

The sun sets and you thank him for always being there. He kisses your head and says, “You have always been like a daughter to me, thank you.” You decided maybe you could be alright with this little family. 

You reassemble the stroller and the door opens before you could even reach for it. Your face is met by a small breeze and the imposing view of Javier in a suit. His face had been his natural tough set, pouted and bothered to be alive. He doesn’t register it’s you for a moment, but his face softens entirely when he realizes his eyes weren’t deceiving him.  Your lips quirk and your head flies to look behind your shoulder to find the hall completely empty, Chucho out of view. Javier looks too and wastes no time in leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Leaving so soon?” He whispers before standing up straight.

You blush like a schoolgirl, gripping the stroller with your life. “Yeah, just wanted to visit your dad.” You jut your chin at your sleeping sister. “Also she fell asleep during our walk.”

Javier’s eyes brighten at the sight of Soleil sleeping so peacefully. “Qué preciosa.” He kneels running his knuckle across her cheek and something in your belly tightens at the sight. “I can take you two home.” He says once she straightens up again, with a groan like an old man. You look out the door behind him, the sky still bright pink and the sun warm. 

“I’ll walk, I’ll call when I get home.” You smile and he nods. You look over your shoulder once more. “See you later baby.” You step on your tip-toes and kiss his cheek, you head on your way. 

Javier watches you leave until you're out of sight and he begins to breathe funny. He’s almost glad it's him that has to leave at the end of this because he can't bear it be you to walk away. 

[littleeyesofpallas]

Been meaning to go back and take stock of my "score" on the ongoing @bleach-smashorpass, I've grayed out anything where my personal pick didn't match the popular outcome, and left the ones where I fall into the majority vote in color.

Look, I'll be real, I'm not above monsterfuckery, even if I don't consider it ""my thing"" but I'd have voted smash on Ayon if he didn't have his weird secret muppet face. Also Aaroniero was an extremely light smash, i really had to flip flop on that one a few times before making a choice. I'll be honest, I liked original Chapter25 epilogue Aisslinger way more than what we got in the Arrancar Arc, and if I could split the vote I'd smash original and pass on final design for him.

Bambi is just such a boring design, and honestly Batsuunsai isn't much better, but the glasses are cute. She was really close to being a pass.

I was actually surprised that I had to stop and think about Choe but his giant chin and tiny bowl cut were not doing him any favors. Also as much as I like Cyan as a character, there is just something about hime cuts that are an automatic off switch for me. the rest of these felt fairly obvious.

not gonna lie, little hurt by the lack of D-Roy and Dordonii love

Confused that people were so lukewarm on Findor, although it was a close split. Also oddly I could have sworn I passed on Furofushi... I'm not really a fan of pigtails, with very few exceptions, but when I went to check the poll results it said I voted smash. Maybe I was thinking she was feeling Hiyori adjacent enough to count it at the time? I.... I don't remember voting smash on Entetsu...

i feel very scandalized by having voted unpopularly on all these old men... I'll be honest, Gremmy is a very lukewarm smash, and the potential of the Visionary power as a sex thing was very much the deciding factor.

boy bleach fans really don't like moustaches, huh? So funny enough it wasn't until the anime that I realized Hidetomo has his multiple earrings and somehow that changed his whole vibe for me, but prior to that it would have been an easy pass. I absolutely cannot abide characters whose whole thing is being someones dead wife/girlfriend, even if she otherwise looks exactly like Rukia, who'll be a smash for sure once we get to the Rs.

i figured i'd be on the wrong side of the fence with the kurosaki men but it's a real hard no on all the above. I'll be real, I'm kinda surprised Ikkaku was so popular. The rest of these felt obvious. Oh wait no there was like no love for Izumi Ishida. Boo to that.

okay so hear me out... Jugram is too blond. I know that sounds like nonsense, but like, he's too fundementally blond. Like most of Bleach's blond characters could have other generally light hair colors, and it wouldn't super change their image or aesthetic, but Jugram has to be blonde because the alternatives don'teel the same, and that's too much blond for me.

i know i voted pass on ichigo, which might make smash on kaien seem weird, but it's between the personality difference and the eyelashes. People not smashing on Kiyone is a catastrophe

and with that i'm all caught up with the letters where all the polls that have already closed. i'll be back to update these as the rest keep rolling along. I dunno why I really did this apart from the compulsion

[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

[freerangeranger]

<As students are filing into the lecture hall, Honoria Sorrel can be see fiddling with a projector. The first slide of the powerpoint reads: 'So You Don't Want to be a Ranger?'

Honey straightens up as the slide finally comes into focus, before glancing put at the sea of children still settling into their seats. She purses her lips slightly and wanders across the stage to a podium that had been moved aside - reconvening with Lamp the Sizzlipede who was watching her from atop the wooden stand.

No one can hear her as she speaks to the little fire-bug, although she does hand Lamp the projector control after a few moment.

As the crowd slowly settles - with much hushing from the other adult supervisors - Honoria takes a deep breath, and begins.>

"Hello Campers, welcome! My name is Honoria, and I am a Ranger stationed in Castalia city. Some of you might know me from the Shadow Sky Incident; I was one of many who assisted with relief efforts. I have been afforded the opportunity today to teach you about the Ranger Union and what it can do for you, even if you do not want to become an offical pokemon ranger."

<Honey waves her hand in the direction of Lamp, and the little bug uses his entire body weight to click the control, switching the powerpoint to the next slide. While this would have probably been easier for Honey to do herself, it was probably a bid to keep Lamp off her person, but still engaged with the lecture - probably to avoid Bug-Related Arson.>

"The Ranger Union is best known for its Area and Field Rangers... but you know, not everyone is cut out for that sort of job.

It's true! When you get older - don't give me that look, you will get older - Your life isn't always going to turn out the way you planned it. Sometimes we hurt ourselves. Maybe you will have a family! Or find that your passion is in engineering or marketing or security. Maybe you just hate being outside or in the field.

And that's okay! Just because you aren't a Ranger doesn't mean the Union is a dead end for you. There are tons of opportunities that people don't know about and most Ranger schools have programs for these jobs as well."

<The slide turns again, displaying the internal communications office for the Almia Ranger Union - a room of screens, computers and one massive monitor detailing the location of every styler in Almia.>

"Let's talk Operators. You all got your phones - yea? Did Miss Ellisa ask you to put them away? Well - not all of you are listening. I see you in the back. Yea, you! Hot tip: If you want to hide your phone, don't turn it on in a dark room. But you my friend might be a perfect fit for an Operator.

Operators are our IT management team for the Union. Prior to the invention of phones they were people who coordinated local Rangers, organized job boards and sent messages between Bases to facilitate smooth operations.

Now that we have satellite radio and modern communications integrated into our stylers, Operators work as a hub of all incoming reports and updates from Rangers in the field. Being knowedgable of software - both new and old - is crucial because if something goes wrong you are able to help with repairs, suggestions and even call emergency services. Not only that! Operators can reassign missions, give constant updates and are often the people who begin and end missions for Rangers. You get to boss us around over the phone - it's great."

<Lamp switches to the next slide, which shows a few images of strange, clunky looking stylers alongside modern, watch-like stylers. There are also a few photos of people wearing matching coveralls standing around a stange red machine. Historically astute members of the audience would recognize these as a Gigaremo Unit. It seems to have been dismantled.>

"Mechanics! The sister-field of IT. Where operators know what to do when software is on the fritz, Mechanics are responsible for building, maintaining and repairing all of the computers, stylers and other wacky gadgets that rangers use."

<The next slide contains a photo of a strange, vibrant green leaf affixed to a post. It seems almost normal - except for the mesh along the bottom and metallic components to the stem.>

"Look at this. Not quite a clunky old styler, huh? My friends, this is the first artifical pokemom leaf ever conceived. It works too! With some grafting you can attach this prosthetic to any grass pokemon that has lost a major body segment and it will provide them with a method of creating their own food. This is what I mean when I say 'mechanics'. Tools and Tech that go beyond your average smartphone.

... although it does help to know how to remove a SIM card from a phone.

If you love the idea of keeping a well oiled machine running or even inventing your own machines on someone else's dime, the Union offers scholarships for high school students - encouraging your to pursure higher education and create something that you can share with the world."

<This slide has a giant image of the Goldenrod Ecological Society's logo on it, alongside various photos of research labs, equiptment and a few remarkable members of the scientific community, including Professor Oak and Professor Sycamore. There is a noticable blank spot on the upper corner of the slide - as if a photo has been deleated hastily and not replaced in time.>

"Not many people know this, but a lot of the research that the Union supports doesn't actually relate to the field of pokemon conservation. True - creating better medical systems and styler technology is benefical to the Union as well as the medical industry. But there is a lot more to it than that. Which leads us to..."

<Honey provides a little bit of entertainment by jazz hand-ing her way through the next segway of her presentation. Although no one can see him, Lamp the Sizzlipede is also doing jazz hands. or jazz-nubbins.>

"Acedemia!

Now, this job isn't strictly 'working for the Union'. Your paycheck doesn't solely come from us. However. I don't know how many of you know this - but research is expensive! Last year the pokemon medical industry put 3.5 million dollars into new technology. Thats insane! I could buy the Union for that amount. But it gets used by people who want to know more about the world.

Now this doesn't really get explained to you so I'm going to lay it out here.

<Honey leans into the microphone, like she is about to share a deep dark secret in a hushed tone, and not through high end speakers capable of putting a Exploud to shame.>

"No one knows anything. The smartest, most well known scientist in the world can't tell you everything - heck they can't tell you anything with certainty. And thats how they like it.

The world is wide and vast and so crazy complicated. There are still arguments about photosynthesis, whether or not Flygon is a Bug or Dragon, and how bones heal. And the Union wants to support people who are trying to answer these questions - to create things like the prosthetic leaf and to inform policies to protect and manage pokemon-human interactions."

<This slide shows people hiking though thick underbrush, tagging 'mon and testing soil and water samples. While the focus of the images are clearly on the non-ranger personnel, a glimpse of @paldean-ranger-brandy can be seen in the background. Both her and her pokemon are staring up at a flock of murkrow in the tree above them.>

"Okay. So you don't wanna sit in a stuffy office looking through a microscope all day. But being a Ranger seems very stressful and you don't really want to deal with the people-side of the job.

May I present 'Survey Corps'. These are the enviromental sciences part of the Union. They are the ones responsible for long term monitoring and management of specific at-risk habitat and populations.

Their job is similar to Area Rangers, only if they see signs of human interruption they call the Area Rangers and get the heck out of dodge. Their job is strictly tagging pokemon, taking soil samples, checking water temperature and quality, monitoring construction sites for pokemon nests and even handing out hunting tickets for overpopulated species.

That doesn't tickle your fancy? What's that? You want to pet the pokemon but not get attacked by an angry Ursaring?"

<A massive photo of a little Sneasel takes up most of the projector. It is a strange color - purple instead of blue - but otherwise is staring up at the camera with a characteristic look of mischief. Other photos show pokemon being released into natural spaces, and infant pokemon nursing from bottles.>

"Rehabilitation is the name of the game! or job. Unsuprisingly there is a massive branch of pokemon welfare within the Union, both for the ride pokemon born and raised in captivity as well as injured pokemon who are going to be re-released. The Union also funds and runs its own breeding programs to reintroduce species back into their original habitats and potentially bring back ancient species that were wiped out by human intervention.

An example - not related to the Union - is with @sneasedtomeetyou who has spent time breeding hisuian sneasel - an extinct poison type - from the recessive genes recently discovered in modern sneasel. It's their hope to reintroduce these species back into Sinnoh because it was recently discovered that certain species of trees grow only after the seed has passed through the digestive tract of certain poison types."

<This slide shows what seems to be a group photo of a handful of trainers and their partners. They are all posing dramatically for the camera and wearing matching uniforms. In the distance there is a herd of Rhydon grazing peacefully, ignoring the presence of the humans and pokemon in the foreground.>

"What? Some of you want to deal with people more than pokemon? Jeez - picky crowd today.

Luckily I have a solution. The Union employs a lot of security forces both in the field and in their buildings. Because there are high risk pokemon in the protection of the Union - no I'm not going to tell you where or what they are, put your hand down - we need security guards who are skilled combatants to protect them. This is a perfect job for professional or aspiring trainers who need a fallback plan or simply don't want to be in the competitive scene anymore.

<The final slide is very empty compared to the previous ones - yet contains a lot more words. There is a provided email for the Pokemon Union as well as a large QR Code that seems to forward people to the scholarship page of the Union website.>

"In conclusion. The Union employs a wide variety of people with drastically different skills and needs. If you want to be Ranger - go for it! Be the best that you can be. But if you don't, I hope you will consider the opportunities presented here and maybe I'll hear you sometime over the phone telling me...

'Mission Clear!'"

<Honey gives a bow to the applause of the crowd, and awkwardly leaves the stage... before having to even more awkwardly return on stage, retreive a very miffed Lamp, and exit again; blushing madly.>

[secretgamergirl]

Remember folks, "political correctness" is just bigotry with extra steps.

Stuff that horrible bigots love to gripe about overlaps with stuff that doesn't exist anywhere in the world beyond the imaginations of those bigots almost completely, and I could give countless depressing examples of this, but right now the one I'd like to focus on is the concept of "political correctness."

See, a bigot would have you believe that their very real, not at all made up oppressors, passed this draconian law back around, I dunno, the early '90s sometime, that says there is a Correct term for everything, and that you can only refer to a given thing with that Correct term, or you will be sent to prison. Also the list of Correct terms is constantly being changed and updated and you really have to stay on your toes to make sure you're up to date, and isn't that a huge pain?

Everything about this is, of course, complete horseshit. Nobody is oppressing them, no such law was ever passed, and there is not, I can't stress this enough, even a loose socially enforced list of "the words you're supposed to use for things." I also don't believe there's anyone out there who actually believes any of this exists, but feel free to get into it with your racist uncle or whatever and start pulling on those threads about where the list is, who maintains it, and what law it is that you break if you don't stick to it.

That said, there absolutely IS a habit held by bigots trying to look respectable where every few years they change their whole vocabulary up, generally keeping all the code-switching in lockstep with each other, and huh, if they AREN'T actually being pressured to do that by outside forces, why DO they keep doing that? And the answer is simply that it confuses people who aren't paying enough attention. When you hear people using new, more scientific/specific/cumbersome sounding language to say something, you might think "oh hey, this is someone who's way better educated on this subject than I am, because I've never heard these terms, so I should pay attention." And no, you shouldn't, because it's the same exact baseless crap they were saying before, they're just substituting whatever word it was enough people realized they were explicitly using as a slur.

Usually, to sell the "enlightened" image, the new terms they pull out tend to be initially pulled out of some actual academic/progressive sort of context. Never with any sort of actual acknowledgement of how the term was being used in that specific instance of course, just, "hey, I saw someone say this, it's the new 'politically correct' term for what I'm talking about, that means you can't get mad. See, I touched home base!" And I could give so very many examples here, but since I'd rather not step on anyone's toes, let me just stick to one I'm pretty sure people have moved away from more or less completely, then a couple recent trans things.

So, there was this period where people were constantly talking about "African-Americans." The original idea someone presumably had was that it was weird how we talk about people being "black" when for anyone else we tend to talk about in terms of the country they're from, maybe also the country most of their ancestors are from. Like you'd maybe call someone French, or French-Canadian, and wouldn't ever try to zero-in on some visible trait by which to identify people with roots in France. And like, sure, that's not a bad basis to start off a conversation about self-reflection and so on. And of course I'd like to hope the first time someone busted this out someone immediately chimed in with how Africa isn't a country and that really should have been something more specific.

But the context where the term first came up really doesn't matter. What does matter is some bigot caught it, and went "aha! There's something I can say to make it less obvious I'm a racist!" and just kinda did a quick find/replace on all their propaganda. Suddenly talking about how "65,000% of all violent crime is committed by African-Americans!" or how they took a vacation in, I dunno, Australia and "wow that whole country has just been completely taken over by African-Americans!" or whatever other racist gibberish they want to shout.

And of course this strategy DOES tend to work well enough to consistently get big swaths of the broader population on board and all pleased with themselves for keeping on top of things and being sure to use "more accurate" terms even when that leads to, you know, referring to the original inhabitants of Australia with a hyphenated term composed of the name of two countries they've never lived in nor can they trace their ancestry back to. And that in particular (along with being just too long, and completely failing to address the whole problem that caused the term to come about in the first place) is why these days you only ever see people saying "African-American" if they're particularly old and out of touch, or if they're just kinda openly being a racist scumbag and saying it with a sneer.

Here's another example. Earlier today, I saw someone who I know meant well talking about gender reveal parties and saying we should really call them "sex reveal parties," and I had to sit down and explain how no, that wouldn't help anything, and also it totally plays into TERF propaganda.

See, if you're talking about a person/animal/plant/whatever being, for example, male, you can either say "the sex of this here goat is male" or "the gender of this goat is male." These are synonymous terms, in this context. Use them totally interchangeably. The only time there's a distinction between the two is that we also use "sex" as a term for the act of banging/boning/gettin' down/getting laid/etc. etc. and you simply wouldn't ever say "see that woman in the red dress there? That's Sandra, we had gender last Saturday" and "gender" gets used to explain why like if you're speaking French and you're pointing out a particular chair you end up going "that's her." The whole language just kinda arbitrarily uses masc and femme terms for literally all nouns because neutral ones don't exist, but like you're not gonna cover a kid's eyes when someone stacks a bunch of chairs up, so it'd be weird to say the sex of those chairs is female.

But anyway somewhere over the years bigots got it through their heads that they kinda lost the fight on shouting about the pure sacred inflexible nature of gender and how impossible it is that someone might make inaccurate assumptions about it and so a lot of them just noticed this alternate term and started going "ah OK! It's sex then! Sex is the thing that's all holy and ordained by god and must never be questioned! Gender is this totally fake thing people made up to pretend otherwise!" Again, this is just complete horseshit. Sometimes they'll try and get clever and pretend they aren't just synonymous terms by shouting about genitals but like, no, I can say the sex of this tree outside that blasts me with pollen every spring is male, and I am fairly certain the tree in question does not in fact have a penis, thanks.

Others of course try to stay more current with things. They read someone talking about trans people being "assigned male/female at birth" in like, some academic context where someone was trying to explain how nonbinary people don't have one size fits all medical transtion needs or whatever and went "mwahaha! People know I'm a bigot when I point at women who happen to be trans and shout 'men' but I bet I can say this event I'm holding is for 'AFABs only' and people will think I'm enlightened!" Tumblr is full of them!

Anyway, point is there are not in fact any sort of magical words that make it OK to say bigoted garbage. Also there's no word police. Also I kinda got sidetracked but gender reveal parties suck because basically this one woman ended up getting an article written about the party she threw a few years ago when after a whole bunch of miscarriages she got a pregnancy far enough along to have visible gonads on an ultrasound, and a bunch of terrible people didn't really read past the headline and got this immediate weird competitive "keeping up with the Jonses" bug up their butts and prompted started having this weird competition to outdue this random woman's party through ever-escalating pyrotechnics displays, and those keep starting wildfires and seriously injuring people.

There's kind of a secondary concern too where they're on the ever-growing list of weird things parents do to really try and push their children into whatever boxes they want them in before they can get a word in edgewise, like how people don't let their daughters touch any toy that isn't explicitly a fashion doll, or would rather gouge their sons' eyes out than let them even behold the color pink. And, I dunno, I feel like part of the reason people are so gung-ho about the whole gender reveal thing is that they are in fact, very aware they are taking up arms in culture war there and they're pretty convinced they're somehow sticking it to trans people in doing so. But, eh, it's really more just generally being a weird creepy control freak treating children like property? There's a whole list of reasons you maybe don't want to do that before we get to the slim chance that it turns out your kid is trans, frankly.

[giacosketch]

Hello! I Graduated!!

Hey, hi again. It's been a bit since my last update, but I wanted to share what I've been up to since you last saw me.

So, let's rewind to a few months ago for my last post. That was a school project I had to do, but I want to take this blogging thing kinda seriously to keep track of my work and career progress. So, jumping to now, I finally decided to get off my ass and make a new post! Anyway, let's talk about the meat and potatoes of the post: my graduation from the Seneca College (or Polytechnic) Diploma of Illustration program!

I've been in school for a LONG time now. I started in Art Fundamentals (or 'fundies' as I'll refer to it) at Sheridan College back in 2016. Then, after some hiccups and a few failed classes here and there, I took a year off. I then reapplied to Fundamentals and redid that so I could get the credits needed to get into Sheridan's famous Animation program! After two attempts (one during my first round of Fundamentals, and the other during the second), I finally got into the Animation program! But after some more failed classes and hiccups, paired with being held back a year and the beginning of the COVID-19 Pandemic, I just ended up dropping out of the course, cursing the name of Sheridan College, and taking yet another year off to ride out the pandemic and see where things would take me. This takes us to 2022 when I applied to Seneca College for their animation program and their illustration program. Now, you may be asking, "But if you're gunning for animation, why did you switch to Illustration???" and to that, I say 'I needed something to change'.

I initially went to art school to pursue comics and MAYBE storyboarding because I thought it was cool. It wasn't until some chats with tutors and classmates that I switched to animation. I was hesitant at first, and the more I look back, the more I think I just wasn't ready for that kind of work. But I did it anyway, and turns out, while I do like animating, I don't like animation school (at least not yet).

So, after a few weeks of waiting, I got an update from Seneca! I did not get into the animation program, BUT I was accepted into the illustration program. I took this as a sign to pivot and try something I wanted to do from the start. Who knows, I might like it! So, I accepted my offer and again, after SOME hiccups and a few failed classes, I… I graduated… I actually did it, I graduated college, and it DIDN'T suck!

I won't bore you with the full details, but my experience at Seneca was really good! With my past knowledge of art school and generally knowing the structure of assignments and the deadlines, I was able to manage my time and my work while also experimenting with new mediums and techniques I was too scared to try before. I went in with the mindset of 'Well, I paid for it, might as well try'.

I kid you not, that carried me through this program, even when I didn't want to do the work.

So, after an amazing 5 semesters (I was held back one) and the amazing crit and help I got from my professors, I got to the end game of making a four-image set piece for the Illustration Grad show. This is the program's thesis project, which basically everything you learn leads up to. The show went amazing, my family and friends all came out to cheer me on. My classmates won awards for their beautiful artwork, and after an amazing week of the show and a great reception night, it was all over. The college ride came to an end, and I can now hold my head up high and say…

"I graduated college."

TLDR: I went to Sheridan College for some time, messed around and failed. Then I applied to Seneca College for their animation or illustration program. Got into illustration and had a great time, then I graduated!

Full visual Timeline*:

*This timeline is leaving out some important things that happened but for the sake or simplicity and privacy, I left that stuff out.

OK so that was A LOT to take in and read, how about we talk about some art!

So I said I got my work into the Illustration Grad show and I bet you're wondering 'What was the work you did?'

this is it!

INVISABLE

11 x 17 cream text paper

Risograph Print

(and here is my artist statement I wrote to accompany the piece:)

Change is a force all around us. We see it in our everyday lives and experience it within our minds. Both the invisible and visible change controls us. I’ve experienced it a lot during my time in school, both artistically and emotionally, and I've seen my family and friends change from once familiar nostalgic forms, into mature and responsible beings. 

INVISIBLE brings creatures from our deep past,(Microraptor, Tiktaalik, Smilodon, and Australopithecus) and inserts them into our modern era in familiar settings. We think of these animals as things from a time long forgotten, or as museum specimens, but without the past, the present just wouldn’t come to be. Their lives, and struggles shaped us and molded the very ground beneath us. We are our past, just as much as we are our future.

Pretty fancy, eh? I wanted to really put on my artist cap for this one, and I honestly had a blast making it.

Each of the skeletons shown is drawn as ACCURATELY as I can make them. I referenced skeletal diagrams, research papers, and I reached out to some paleo mutuals and Discord servers for some critique. Oh, and you may be wondering why Risograph. To be honest, it's really just because of the aged look of the ink. I wanted a semi-museum quality to the final product, and Risograph just felt right to me. Shout out to the amazing Colour Code Printing for the excellent work they did. Lastly, the name "INVISABLE" is in reference to how these animals and the change they caused are NOW invisible to us, and it's also a reference to the Duran Duran song of the same name. I liked the vibes a lot, and there was a meme circulating around with the song at the time, so it was in my head a lot. The feeling I got from the vocals and the instrumentals was something I wanted to recapture in my work, albeit to varying success. I'm extremely proud of this work, and the reaction from everyone at the reception was awesome!

I do hope to maybe one day do another gallery in the future, but I'm also not really about that kind of stuff. But the last few years have taught me a lot about myself and that I have to be open to change and reinventing who I am. I can't stay stagnant, or I'll just sink, and I've seen it happen to many, many people not only in school but at work and just out and about. Keep an open mind and try new things; that's the lesson I learned throughout all of this.

If you're reading this and you don't know how to feel about growing up or if you should go to school, all I say is this: Try new things and don't be afraid to mess up. Fail faster, and you'll learn faster.

[morallygreyvigilante67]

not connected to the cryptid au, but have you considered a concept where NB survives and they both become archons? just a concept i think you might like

Oh, this scratches a specific itch I didn't know I had.

Okay, so for the sake of not calling him Nameless Bard through this entire thing, I'm going to use Himmel and Carmen as placeholders for his human & archon names respectively.

Title:

Okay, so in this concept they're both anemo archons. Is it possible for there to be two archons for the same element simultaneously? Probably not. But the thought of Teyvat (and Mondstadt specifically) having to deal with two of them is chaotic, and I think it's pretty clear by now that I like yeeting as much chaos as possible at Mondstadt.

Now, as for their secondary titles. Barbatos is still the God of Freedom, and Carmen is the God of Revolution. Mainly because revolution is more of an active thing compared to freedom, which is more of an ideal.

At the time of the uprising against Decarabian, Venti mentioned that he brought "subtle changes" and "tiny seeds of hope" which was probably all he could do at the time considering he lacked a human form. Meanwhile Himmel was one of the leading figures in the rebellion. So I think it's fitting that their secondary titles would reflect that.

Appearance:

I have no idea where to begin with drawing Genshin characters, so description time.

Now, in canon Venti took on his friend's form when he died. I can see him still doing that in this AU, just for a different reason. So the two of them look pretty similar.

In terms of their base appearances, Venti's hair has more of a blueish tint in game, so Himmel's would be darker. Also, only the tips of his braids have the archon-brand colouring. His clothing is more or less the same as what he wore in "The Boy and the Whirlwind" except just a little bit updated to fit the current timeline.

Now for the archon appearance. Carmen also has wings but they look more like bird wings with anemo-coloured tips. Barbatos gets glowing tattoos, Carmen gets glowing wings. Also his archon outfit is more like the one depicted in the Barbatos statue outside the Cathedral.

As for his weapon. I greatly enjoy the mental image of him just bonking people with an anemo-infused lyre, I'm not sure what the equivalent would be, but I can probably see him as a catalyst user...maybe? I don't really want to make him an archer as well, though that could also work.

Gnosis:

Okay, they'd probably both get a proper one. But the mental image of one of them walking around with a fake, and them just periodically switching who's carrying the real one is entertaining so therefore that's what I'm going with.

Role:

Now, when it comes to his role as an archon. Just like Barbatos, Carmen doesn't like the idea of ruling, so he doesn't. He makes more public appearances as an archon than Barbatos does, but still not as many as the other archons.

Because Carmen actually makes appearances, and he refuses to let people think Barbatos abandoned them (they don't think that anyway, but it's still something he does). The people think the two of them split the duties between them.

As far as Mondstadt is aware, Carmen watches over the people while Barbatos deals with the Four Winds. It's not exactly true, they both do what they think is necessary, but neither of them really say anything to correct the assumption.

Disguise:

As far as the public is aware, Venti and Himmel are twins. No one can really agree on which one of them is the oldest, and they don't really know the answer either. Age is a difficult thing to judge when it comes to wind wisps, but Venti's human form is a copy of his.

Himmel is still very much a bard, they can both be seen performing in various parts of the city and because they both love exploring, it isn't too uncommon to find them outside the city walls. Sometimes they're spotted performing together.

Venti sometimes hangs out in his wisp form, so it's fairly normal to see Himmel walking around with him on his shoulder or something.

They're both fairly knowledgeable about Mondstadt's history, but no one really questions it because "bards." Himmel also hangs out around the library a lot.

That's all I've got for now.

[tryskomys]

PSYCHO KILLER

Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 20 - When It’s Cold I’d Like to Die

Summary: Eddie might be ready to let go. Let go of his everything that is his troubled existence. But his eldritch sorceress does not leave anyone behind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: double update! ummm…you can probably guess what’s going on from the title. i had this one written for some time now and it’s one of the parts that i’m most proud of. it’s very not nice, graphic and kinda gut wrenching, but i think y’all expected that. thanks for reading as always <3

tw: graphic violence, a big amount of blood, descriptions of injuries, gore, overall a lot of desperation and pain

Masterlist

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Eddie felt his consciousness slowly fading away. Like a distant memory slipping from your head, just out of reach when you try to grasp and cherish it…but then…

A guttural scream brought him back to reality as he felt a splash of warm blood hitting his face, a sensation followed by the sudden lightness on his neck, finally released from the choking grip of the demobat’s tail.

As he looked up, he met Maia’s deranged eyes, fuming with primal anger and bloodlust. The glance lasted only a few seconds before she swung her katana again, beheading both beasts that were feasting on his stomach with a single swing. Then she proceeded to slice the bat that chomped on his ankle in half as well, stomping on it with a grunt. Eddie watched her as she stood above him, her feet firmly set on the sides of his hips, her knuckles white around the blade handle.

His foggy brain processed the image of her as some kind of an angel of death, maybe a creature that came to save him just so she could be the one to carry him to the other side. Her blurry figure held a powerful stance as the bats ominously swirled around the two of them, clearly inteligent enough to realize that the blade is a real threat to the pack’s survival. Just when he felt like falling into the abyss once more, her raspy scream snapped him back to conciousness again.

“COME GET HIM, YOU FUCKERS!”

One bat seemed to understand the challenge and flew staight into her, but she sliced it in half before it could touch her. She heard Dustin’s bleak screaming of their names getting closer and closer, a sound that made the blood freeze in her veins. She snapped her head in his direction, darting between the swarm circling them and the limping boy.

“I told you to stay away! Get back there! LEAVE!” she barked out a stream of harsh orders, but Dustin didn’t seem to care about anything else than getting closer to them. Out of nowhere, the bats slowly stopped in their tracks, hovering in one place before dropping dead to the ground as if someone turned off a switch.

Maia huffed, face scrunched, confused and hurting. The sudden silence made her finally realize the pulsating pain in her shoulder and ribs, she slowly let go of the katana to feel on her chest, flinching when she ran her fingers over what seemed to be a bone sticking out of the otherwise smooth surface under her skin.

She then whipped her head at Eddie, crumbling down next to him as Dustin finally limped all the way to them, joining her on the dirty ground. An ominous open wound that ran from his cheekbone all the way to his collar bone was actively bleeding. Eddie’s face was paralyzed in a blank expression due to pain as he looked up into Maia’s eyes.

He gurgled the blood in his throat when she tried to raise his torso to her lap, getting a helping hand from distressed Dustin. She groaned in pain when she moved him, successful in holding back tears…until he spoke.

“Pretty bad, huh?”

A wet grunt escaped his throat as blood spluttered out of his mouth.

“I didn’t run away this time…right?”

His voice was barely there, muffled by the liquid in his throat, weak. That’s when will failed her and her big salty tears fell on his face, all while Dustin was trying to soothe him with talks of medical help.

“M’kay…just need a minute…” Eddie grunted and tried to move up, staring at Maia’s pained face with a soft smile. She was scanning his body to check the damage, her brain running a thousand miles per minute through every possibility of dragging him back home.

“Listen guys…you gotta..look after those little sheep for me, ‘kay?” he managed to exhale through gritted teeth, coughing softly as Dustin sobbed uncontrollably.

“Shut the fuck up, Eddie. Stop wasting breath, okay?” she shushed him and took the bandana off his head, caressing his hair.

“Dustin, help me. On three.” she shakily pushed out and held onto Eddie’s head and neck while Dustin supported his lower back. On the count, they slowly turned him on his right side, which helped him choke out some of the blood that was blocking his airflow.

“Hold onto my arm, sweetheart. Okay?”

Her words eerily mirrored when he took care of her after she got jumped, but her broken lip was now the least painful thing torturing her body. She leaned to his ear, whispering as her voice wasn’t strong enough to let out actual sounds.

“I’m going to punch your back a few times and you’ll cough out that blood for me, yeah?”

Eddie simply nodded once and grabbed the arm she had wrapped around his torso, setting his eyes on the ground as he braced for the impact.

“Hold him firmly, okay, Dusty? I know you can do it.” she softly ordered Dustin, who hardly heard her over his own whimpers, but did as he was told.

He squeezed Eddie’s legs close to him as Maia’s fist hit his back for the first time. Then the second. And third. With each punch, Eddie choked out a reasonable amount of blood and his breathing was getting clearer and clearer. After five punches, he seemed to be able to take something of a deep breath, but Maia tutted as they slowly tried to sit him up.

“No, no, don’t overdo it, ‘kay? Don’t waste your breath, remember?”

He slowly turned at her, lovingly taking in her face as if he wanted to burn it into his memory, brand his brain with her features.

“Say…’I’m gonna look after them.’” he whispered and looked at Dustin, who choked on his tears and softly repeated after his older friend, voice cracking in pain.

“I told you to shut up, can you please obey for once?” she shook her head, a whimper leaving her throat as she took his bloodied face into her palms and pressed a soft kiss on his wet carmine lips.

He let out a noise resembling a chuckle and nodded, looking down at his abdomen. He had three relatively deep holes in his stomach that were furiously bleeding, a chunk of flesh bitten off of his ankle and a burning pain around his whole neck, a harsh open slash lacing his larynx. He cursed under his breath and felt the light-headedness from the blood loss take over him, so he slowly closed his eyes, welcoming the soothing darkness of his eyelids. Maia’s screeching voice woke him up a bit.

“NO. No, no, no, don’t close your eyes, Eddie, you can’t do that.”

She whimpered as she grabbed him under his shoulders, white hot pain slicing through her shoulder and chest. Dustin tried to get up, holding Eddie’s feet, but he crumbled with a pained scream when he stepped on his broken leg.

“It’s okay, Dusty, it’s okay. Can you manage crawling back? Just stay next to me and monitor him, can you do that for me?” she softly whispered and choked on her tears, the throbbing pain now going through her heart upon seeing Dustin’s sweet youthful face scrunched in terror and hurt.

He slowly nodded and got on his fours, the extraterrestrial dirt stabbing his palms. Maia was howling in pain with each step she took, limping backwards to the trailer. The shoulder pain was deafening her, the burning so intense she couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing through her veins. She didn’t register Dustin’s sobs, nor Eddie’s constant repeating of a single sentence.

“It’s finally gonna be my year…”

She didn’t know how far away from the trailer they were, didn’t register their surroundings, wasn’t aware of how long it took to drag Eddie’s limp tall body back with a harshly dislocated shoulder and a few broken ribs. She only realized they arrived when Eddie let out a throaty chuckle, coughing up some more blood.

“Looks kinda like my trailer…” he mused softly, his brain in a world of its own.

Maia’s bottom lip wobbled as she met Dustin’s terrified eyes, both of them holding in their sobs to appear strong in front of each other. Dustin left the door open as he ran after them, so she peeked into the trailer first to see if they’re in the clear, but there were no signs of any danger. She dragged Eddie up the few stairs, still squealing and squirming in pain. When inside, she leaned Eddie against the door that Dustin closed when he crawled in.

The gate was still there, as if nothing changed. Only the improvised rope was now on the floor, taunting them and their despair.

“Dusty, would you manage to try and throw the sheet back up? I need…I need a second.” she whispered through stuttering wheezes and Dustin nodded, wiping his tears and standing up like a trooper.

He harshly exhaled and took the sheet rope, grunting when he threw it to the air. They both let out a loud exhale when it got through and stuck in place once again. Maia grunted and wiped her bleeding lip with the back of her hand.

“Christ…are you hurt? Let me take a look.” Eddie’s meek whisper made her turn her head just as he was trying to sit up straighter to examine her injuries. Maia’s eyes shut in agony as his bloody hand caressed her cheek, not letting a second of life pass by without being caring, even if it was hanging by a single thread now.

“I’m okay, Eddie, I’m fine…let’s get out of here.” she whispered back, took his palm into hers and kissed his fingertips, looking back at Dustin, who’s was leaning against the sofa, his lips curled into a sad smile.

“Okay, you go first, Dustin. Do your arms work?” she sat on the floor and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.

“Boneless, as always, but yeah.” he let out a soft chuckle before sobbing again upon looking at Eddie’s blank battered face.

“Right. So…” Maia slowly crawled up to the portal, getting up on her knees when she stopped right under it, “…you’ll step on my shoulders and I’ll try to lift you up as far as I can, okay?”

Dustin’s face scrunched with desperation and he furiously shook his head, more and more hot tears leaving his eyes.

“No! You’re hurt, I can do it alone!” he repeated on and on but she shushed him.

“And you’ll fall down, the leg breaks in the other direction and you’ll never walk again. Come. Here. Careful.” she hissed through gritted teeth and Dustin hesitantly limped up to her, squirming when he finally decided to take off his shoes, toss them to the side and step up, one shoulder at a time.

She growled with pain when she tried to get up, but thankfully Dustin was putting all of his remaining life strength to climbing up the sheet rope, so she meerely supported his legs. She flinched when she felt his weight leave her shoulders, preparing for further injuries on his part. And he dropped on the mattress on the other side with a loud groan, making her look up with wide eyes, sizzling tears continuously streaming down her face.

“I’m okay…I’m okay.” he mumbled and crawled away from her sight only to come back with a loud scream, dragging the couch onto the mattress to stack it up so the fall would be as short as possible.

He crumbled down next to it, laying on his back and giving in to the tears. She exhaled with a shiver and looked at Eddie, who was watching all of it unfold with hazy eyes, coughing up a bit of blood from time to time. She crawled back to him and lightly slapped his cheeks a few times.

“I’ll get you to the other side, okay?”

“I don’t…I don’t wanna die, halfling…” he muttered, a tear escaping his eye. She whimpered and bit her torn lip for a few seconds before shaking her head.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Eddie, I promise. You’re not dying, ‘kay? I won’t allow it.” her shaky voice peeped into his ear and supported his arms again, dragging him under the portal.

“Dustin?” she yelled out of the abyss, making Dustin sit down and wipe his wet face.

“I need you to be ready on the phone, okay? If anything goes to shit, you call an ambulance immediately!”

He nodded and crawled to the telephone that was sitting right on the cabinet beside the door. She turned back to Eddie and slapped his cheeks a bit harder, getting him to open his eyes wider.

“I know you’re hurting right now, but I need you to climb up there.” she mumbled and pointed her finger at the improvised rope. He darted between her and the fabric, coughing softly when she started taking his shoes off.

“I…I don’t know if…” he whimpered, suddenly more awake as his eyes leaked salty tears.

She took a deep breath and kissed his forehead, then his left cheek, right cheek…and finally pressed her bruised lips againsts his, just long enough to not take any of his precious breaths away.

“You promised me that if we get out of this, we’ll do this over and over again, remember?” she whispered and let him carress her cheek and wipe her tears away with his thumb. He slowly nodded, still drowning in her eyes.

“We have the chance to get out now. Just a few meters and we’re out. We’ve come this far…” she continued, leaning into his palm.

“I’m.. I can’t…leave me and go, please…” he shook his tears away and took her hand in his, kissing her fingertips.

“I love you.”

Her desperate plea hung in the air before settling in Eddie’s senses, jolting through his nerves like a defibrillator. He sat up a bit straighter and looked up through the portal, Dustin’s worried expression peeking at him upside down. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his dimples even more portruding as the dark blood settled in them.

“I better try my best, then.” he muttered and tried to get up on his own, his legs immediately giving up from the sudden motion. Maia caught him before he could fall down and scooted over to the mattress he pushed to the wall when he left them.

“Woah, not so fast, tough guy.” she muttered and kicked it down, pushing it under the portal with her foot.

Then she carefully let go of Eddie, who’s wobbly legs steadied enough for him to stand by himself. She mirrored Dustin’s setup on the other side as she dragged the sofa on the mattress with pained groans, thankfully it was close enough to move it before Eddie realized what’s going on and wanted to help. She supported his arms once again and nodded towards the sofa, biting down her lip harshly as he braced against her dislocated shoulder. She followed him and looked up at Dustin, who was clutching the telephone in his bloodied hands.

“Ready, Dusty?” she gave him thumbs up and he returned them, wincing as Eddie took the sheet in his hands. He took a gravely breath in and turned at her, weakly nudging his forehead against hers.

“I love you, too…” he whispered and she broke down in incoherent sobs, fiercly nodding.

He then turned his attention to the dirty sheet, gripping it with all his strenght as he hung on it, his throat letting out a pained scream. Maia immediately hunched and put her shoulders under his feet, whining when he automatically leaned on them. As he tugged one bit closer to the gate she tried to push his feet up, which seemed to help him a bit. With each tug he seemed to have more energy, more strenght as the end of this nightmare dangled right in front of him.

“Careful, careful! Dustin, be ready!” Maia grunted when she saw Eddie’s head enter the other side.

Dustin was showering Eddie with encouraging praises, getting up on his broken leg to reach up, getting ready to catch him. When Eddie’s body weight shifted to the other side, he turned around in the air and started to fall down. Maia and Dustin’s screams filled his ears as he tugged on the sheet, hanging on it for a few seconds before easing down to the sofa. He softly planted on his back, but Dustin immediately limped over to him and sat him up, remembering Maia’s emphasis on not letting him lay down. He checked Eddie and when he was met with warm eyes and a pat on the back, he sighed with relief.

“He’s okay!” he exclaimed into the portal and Maia exhaled sharply, spitting out the blood that pooled in mouth after she bit her lip.

He put his arm around Eddie, carefully stepping down from the couch, and they sat on the floor next to each other. She quickly took the rope and tried to tug, but the blazing pain in her side made her whimper, tears leaving wet trails on her dirty face. Dustin turned his affection to her and Eddie joined him, less loud and animated, but hearing his voice it was enough for her.

“We’re safe, look! You kept us safe! You can do it too, come on!” Dustin spat out as she groaned with each pull, face twisted in pain.

She let out a bloodcurdling howl as her body shifted to the other side - her arm held onto the sheet a second too long before letting go and the already dislocated shoulder audiably cracked under the pressure. She fell down on the mattress and whimpered, stumbling down from it and falling on her knees in front of her two friends.

She curled up in a fetal position and let the shaking and sobbing consume her, the dam finally breaking under the pressure of survival. The gate closed up after her with a wet squelch, as if on queue after she finally got to the other side. All of them got back from hell.

No one stayed behind.

She looked up at Eddie, who’s impossibly pale face still held a slightly dissociated expression, but the praises leaving his lips were reminding her that he’s still there.

With her. Living.

All three of them errupted in incoherent babbling mixed with whimpers, sobs and choking laughter. Just as Dustin helped Maia sit up a bit so she could check Eddie’s wounds, they heard a strange cracking noise. Maia looked up at the pounding membrane on the ceiling, frowning as it seemed to…move.

The confusion was replaced for horror as their exhausted limp bodies desperately tried to crawl away from the crackling burning matter that split front of the trailer in half, bundling into a ball of limbs in the furthest corner as they watched the crack mercilessly rip through the everything in it’s way, heading towards the centre of Hawkins.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Tag list: @kik51199 @preciousbabypeter @sebby-staan @sleepysl0th03 @grungegrrrl

[craftycheetah]

Purr Like an Engine Pt.11

Early the next morning, soft shuffling and meowing throughout your house stir you from your slumber. Slowly getting out of bed, you yawn and expect Neo to yell at you, only to hear silence.

“Neo?”

“Hey, pudding,” he smiles.

Your blood turns cold as you see Shigaraki standing in your kitchen, your cat lying in his arms, comfortably asleep. 

“Shh…” He brings a single finger to his lips. “Wouldn’t want to wake the baby, would you?”

“T-Tomura!” You managed to get out. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw someone come in last night, thought you might be in trouble,” he shrugged.

You gulped; you both knew that was a lie. You both knew that Tomura didn’t think you would be in trouble; he just cared that someone came in. Someone that wasn’t him. 

“Oh, th-thanks for the concern,” you nodded. “Just a friend.” 

“Your little motorcycle friend?”

You look away from him, opting to stay quiet.

“You know how what I told you about other bikers, pudding.”

“But your word isn’t law, Tomura.”

“As long as you live in my territory, yes it is.”

“Maybe I don’t want to live in your territory anymore.”

“Care to repeat that?”

“I’m tired of you constantly dictating my life, Tenko!”

“I told you to never call me by that name,” he growls, placing Neo on the counter.  “You’ve blatantly disobeyed me and I’ve just about had it!”

Stepping towards you, he reaches for your shirt, growling when you step back, nearly missing your collar. “G-get out, Tomura,” you stammer.

“No. You’re coming with me. You’re gonna fucking learn why you should never mess with me.  I'll make fucking sure you don't get any ideas under my watch.”

“No! L-leave me alone!” you shout, yelping when he grabs at you again before running towards your front door. Fumbling with the lock, you yelp when a pair of arms wrap around your torso before a cloth pushes its way into your face. “What the fuck?! Toga?! Let me go!” you struggle against her, knocking a couple things over. 

“Easy, pudding. Wouldn’t want to wake up anybody,” Tomura chuckles as your vision starts to fade.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. Boss’s orders,” she sighs, watching you eventually fall unconscious. Her mind filled with guilt as Tomura called out to her.

“Shh, go to sleep. Toga, take her to the house. I need to make a call.”

Once Hitoshi got to the hideout, he slipped inside as the rest of the group were consoling a distraught Hanta. 

“Any updates?” Eijirou asks as Hanta wipes his tears away.

“They said he has three bruised ribs and a broken nose. He’s gonna need therapy.”

“Everything will be okay, Sero. Just calm down….”

“No! I will not calm down!” He practically shouted. “My boyfriend’s hurt and it’s all Hitoshi and his girlfriend’s fault!”

“Woah, hold on, what the hell did she have to do with this?! And she’s not my girlfriend!” Hitoshi growls, his demeanor switching from consoling to defensive.

“The doctors were saying Denki mumbled something about masks and a League. Who else do we know would fucking target him, pendejo? Maldito hijo de puta! None of this would’ve happened if she had kept her weird little relationship with whatever the hell his name is to herself and you didn’t go nosing around in people’s business!” He runs his hands through his hair, groaning. “We should’ve just stayed out of it!”

“You think she wanted to be in that situation! How would you feel if you had to make your life rotate around a singular person and gang, who force you to obey their rules and punish you whenever they see fit?! That’s not a choice, that’s borderline tyranny! I’m going to go ask Y/n, about this. When you’re ready to stop victim blaming, let me know.”

Hitoshi turns around, and storms out of the hideout as Kyoka and Eijirou call out to him. Checking his phone, he texts you, slightly worried when you don’t answer, considering it’s your lunchtime, and you usually text him videos or images of the cats living in the cafe.

Driving as fast as he could to the cafe, he parks outside and rushes in, accidentally startling one of the cats.

“Welcome to the Paw-fee House! How can I help you on this purr-fect day?” Tsuyu smiles.

“Hi. Is Y/n here?” Hitoshi asks before looking down as Cookie Shake bats at his pant leg.

“No, actually. It’s weird, though. Normally, she calls in or texts us, letting us know, but she didn’t say anything. I tried calling her but the number came up as blocked, which was weird.”

“Someone text me earlier using her phone. They were saying to stop texting her and that pudding is mine, and I thinkshe might be in danger.”

“You should probably talk to the police.”

“They won’t do anything besides sit on their asses. I can’t sit around and do nothing while Y/n probably in danger. She’s selfless, and so compassionate—”

“You really like her don’t you?”

“Maybe…” he mumbles.

“Then follow your heart.”

Hitoshi checked his phone, making sure he was at the correct address. Slipping inside the empty warehouse, a laugh echoed throughout the walls, sending a chill down Hitoshi’s spine and irritating him further, “Who’s there?!” Hitoshi whipped around, fists clenched.

“Over here,” A figure revealed itself from the shadows. “It’s finally nice to meet you… Hitoshi Shinsou.”

←prev || Masterlist || next→

»Summary: Bikers weren’t necessarily a problem in your city, but to you, they were like the bubonic plague. After running into one of them, you had to ask yourself, are bikers really that much of a nuisance?

Ghost readers don’t get fed!

Taglist: @endeavours-jockstrap @milkmademozzarellala @mxonigirimiya @kurocantcommunicate @minninugget @readergurl20 @kingsheir @pharaohanubis0

Send an ask if you want to be on the taglist!

© craftycheetah: all rights reserved. do not edit, modify, repost, or claim my works as your own.

[verkja]

[ID: A colourful collection of icons and images related to tumblr, each animated to switch between two angles, surrounding the words 'tumblr 2022 My Year In Review' in front of an orange grid background. End ID.]

I posted 1,016 times in 2022

That's 1,016 more posts than 2021!

307 posts created (30%)

709 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-can-even-burn-salad

@gr8writingtips

@lumpofwhump

@whumpsday

@redwingedwhump

I tagged 1,012 of my posts in 2022

#whump prompt - 187 posts

#writing - 164 posts

#ask answer - 116 posts

#whump writing - 107 posts

#whump tropes - 88 posts

#whump - 76 posts

#30 days 30 lines - 62 posts

#oc stuff - 52 posts

#tag games - 48 posts

#long post - 47 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#which is an english style i don't actually use often - i typically opt for gongfu so very small clay teapots or gaiwans are more my thing

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How about an older whumpee? One who's lost the appearance of being young and vulnerable, so rather than wanting to help or save them, people just pity or ignore them.

They used to have some kind of hope that their life could get better, but not anymore; now they're just bitter, or resigned, or apathetic. The world and other people have let them down one time too many. They've let themself down one time too many.

They're still scared, all the time, but where once that fear provided an impetus to try and change things, now it just exhausts them. Maybe they try, hesitantly, to reach out for help at some point, but instead of coming across as timid they're just seen as creepy.

Maybe they work for a villain, and while the heroes are inspired to spare or rehabilitate some of their younger colleagues - it's such a waste, seeing people with potential throw away their lives in the service of evil - the whumpee is only seen as an obstacle to overcome. Disposable.

When a younger, conventionally attractive person starts shaking and crying at a meeting of uneasy allies because something someone said brought up a traumatic memory, people are alarmed and sympathetic and want to take care of them. When the one having a breakdown is some middle-aged accountant-looking person, it's just awkward.

Stress ages people, and the effects increase over time. Someone who is actually twenty-five might look and feel thirty under high-pressure circumstances. Someone who's actually forty-five might look and feel sixty-five.

It's a lot harder to break out of a negative mindset when you've been living with it for a long time. It's hard to believe someone telling you things will get better after decades of things only ever getting worse. The whumpee won't bother to argue about it, but they fully expect anyone acting like they care about them to be pretending for the sake of getting information or manipulating them. (Which of course makes it even more intense when someone genuinely does care about them.)

This was kind of a long one, but I really love this setup. Also I was listening to 'No Surprises' by Radiohead yesterday and it kept giving me Feelings.

182 notes - Posted February 23, 2022

#4

Ideas for robot/machine whump; I’m sure some have been done before, but not often enough! I love robot whump.

Dents in metal that cause pain like any other injury, but can’t heal

A character who’s alive and able to think, but the wires which allow them to move or blink a light or otherwise interact with the world have been severed; no one looking at them can tell they’re not dead

A character who could never independently interact with the world in the first place - like a PC, they can only respond upon receiving outside input through very limited means. Even in a room full of people, they can’t detect that they’re not alone, isolated by their own design

Wires that function something like nerves; stripping away the insulation to expose bare copper, which causes excruciating pain when touched even lightly

A character who relies on continual updates to function, getting increasingly glitchy and slow after the company which created them stopped offering support for their now-outdated software

A character who is very much not designed to look convincingly human trying to blend in (think a toaster on stilts in a trench coat)

A company recalling one model of robot for a minor flaw, but fixing the flaw involves a memory/personality reset

190 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

#3

There's something special about a whumpee getting literally thrown in the trash. It's both physical whump, since they're presumably too injured or weak to get out of the trash, and a way for a whumper to symbolically illustrate that they are completely worthless. (Or they can throw themself in the trash, if you prefer!)

It's probably easiest to make this effective in genres where the whumpee is both considered subhuman (or sub-whatever-else) and is legally considered property - a tool, a weapon, a pet, an android, etc. - but it can work in any setting with a bit of modification.

214 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

#2

Seen a few very nice posts lately about ‘known whumpees,’ so I figured I’d write a little about the possibilities of a completely unknown whumpee!

Nobody knows who they are - not because they’re mysterious or disguised, just because they’re no one special. They aren’t part of a team, aren’t a public figure or celebrity, don’t have a family or friends or allies who will show up to help them out.

There’s no practical reason for anyone to help the terrified, forgotten prisoner in the last cell in the dungeon, covered with scars obviously caused by torture. Or the injured soldier in beat-up armour, not an officer or otherwise hard to replace, who surrenders because they’re too hurt to retreat with their comrades. Or the broken, discarded android or robot or pet, just one of a million others, who’s been thrown out because they’re no longer useful.

The character is fully aware of their own insignificance; they know they aren’t worth anything to anyone. So when their fate is left in someone else’s hands, all they can do is hope that person happens to be feeling generous.

411 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

PSA for newcomers

I've noticed a number of new people posting in the whump tag lately who have migrated over from Twitter. That's great! We're very glad to have you here, and excited to see your content.

Just one request: Please tag thoroughly. Whump contains all kinds of dark content; a lot of people who engage with it are fine with some kinds, but really don't want to see others. Tagging provides a way for people to curate what content they see, and enjoy what you create while keeping whumpblr a comfortable place to spend time.

(If you're new to tumblr and don't know how tagging works here - only the first five tags on your post determine which tags it shows up in, but all tags can be filtered, so you can put #whump and things like that first, and add the warnings near the end. In fact, that's better, because it means whump stories containing abuse, for example, won't show up in the same tag as people's posts about their own real-life experiences with abuse.

Don't censor words or the filters won't work, so 'cw noncon,' for example, is great, while 'cw n0nc0n' or 'cw r*pe' won't do what you need them to.)

Edit: Oho, apparently it's been updated to the first 20 tags these days! Go wild with tagging specific tropes, in that case; that'll make it even easier for people to locate work they enjoy. :D

458 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[hummingbird-games]

Dev Daries

Feb 3, 2023

IT’S (me again announcing) BLACK HISTORY MONTH AYYYYYYEEEE!!!!!!! 

Okay, some updates of the Crushed variety???

[image ID: a screenshot of the Itch.io page for the visual novel Crushed. end ID]

There are a few things I’d like to tweak before making the page public this weekend, one of them involving 1-2 more/different screenshots. Maaaaaybe some cute little graphics made via Canva?? But I’m starting to get an idea of the visual theme for this project. And it’s happening a lot faster than it did for HSD 😂

[image ID: a screenshot of a cell phone with an ongoing text conversation. end ID]

If this conversation looks familiar, that’s on purpose. I just want to bring your attention to what I’ve accomplished since last time LOL! All that’s left now is to replace the white bubbles with a different color, which is annoyingly not simple??? I also keep putting it off because that requires making A Decision. And I’m decision-ed out 💩 

As y’all are aware, this is for the Black VN game jam. The original plan was to have a small enough project that could be done by or before Feb. 28, but this thing kind of ballooned and I’ve scaled back to “release 6-7k word demo with completed art and graphic assets, music, and text”. 

As of the time of this post, the full 20k something words are coded. I can technically play through the whole thing including the three endings and it’s quite a thrill. I cannot wait until y’all get the same opportunity!!! (Ending 2 still makes me sob like a baby, wheeeeeeeee!)

The plan is to have the game out Summer 2023, but that is dependent on 1) how fast the art is finished (because ya girl is thinking unlockable CGs, but also there’s the sprite art which ahaha is the highest priority...ugh) and 2) how I’m doing health wise. But I will keep y’all posted, and of course I’ve got fun things to share as we wait for the full game to release!

CGs might be up in the air but...voice acting is a thing that’s happening??

Just tonight I had my first live direct with a voice actor y’all and now I see why so many game devs become addicted to incorporating it?!?!? (It’s partial VA so don’t get too excited but get a lil excited because the finished product is gonna sound so cool.)

At this point you’ve maybe seen the character reveals?? Or you’ve seen me Crying On Main and missed the self-reblogs 😭 y’all, I did not want to do a m!MC game!!!! I even went as far as making a post saying I wouldn’t make a BL game (note to y’all, back up ya shit AND never say never). But one of my unwritten mottos for this studio is to tell stories. Tell the stories that won’t let me know peace until they’re out.

And Crushed wouldn’t have worked with an f!MC. And I quickly found out it this story wouldn’t work unless it was bi Black boy. 

the biphobia out here is something I’m going to fight until I’m 6ft under

Black boys and their stories are not a monolith, and I’m sick of teen media being written for adult consumption while disrespecting the teen demographic

one Black teen is going to play this game and it’s my hope, my desire, that they will feel less hollow inside when they finish...

So anyhoo. That’s your update.

If you’re looking for my “special brand” of game reactions and uncensored thoughts, I promise I will make the side blog public sometime 😭 I’ve been switching energy to books and I’m still trying to prove an author I adore wrong! When I asked her how does she balance gaming and reading, she looked into the camera and told me ‘you don’t’ and I hate that years later she’s still right...

And that’s that! I’m off now 🤪

- Gemini

P.S. I still plan on doing the bad endings for An Everyday Love and making it everyone’s problem, and that’s like half the reason I’m dragging my feet, so forgive me 

[tickedofftokki]

even if TEMPEST thoughts

In a world where witch trials and witch hunts are commonplace, a tragedy occurs. Bolstered by the power to rewind time via death, the heroine Anastasia throws herself to the flames to save those she loves... and to achieve sweet revenge. (From Nintendo Eshop)

Tyril I Lister

VA: Noriaki Sugiyama

Crius Castlerock

VA: Makoto Furukawa

Zenn Sorfield

VA: Shunsuke Takeuchi

Lucien Neushburn

VA: Kaito Ishikawa

Ranking: Tyril > Crius > Zenn > Lucien

What I Liked:

- MC Character Growth

Anastasia really grows from a weak person dreaming of the past to someone who pushes on for a brighter future with her loved ones. She doesn’t ever truly forgive the ones who wronged her in the past (rightfully so), but she casts that aside and lives for what’s coming next. Even in the midpoints of the story, you can feel her determination, will to live, and to save the ones she cares about. even if TEMPEST was billed as more of a revenge story, and there are strong elements of that, serving to drive Anastasia, but the revenge falls to the side in favor of the larger plot. 

- Great, expressive sprites

Lucien’s stressed sprite is what I live for. Tyril’s sprites fully express the indignation and outrage he feels, and seeing them enhanced the dialogue immensely, There’s no animation syncing the voiced dialogue, but the wide array of emotive character portraits is more than good enough as a substitue. 

- Roses indicating right/wrong choice

Seeing if I made a bad choice right away was very helpful, especially as there’s no “skip to next choice” function. IIRC, it might take a few lines of dialogue to show up. 

- CG Gallery + UI

The UI in this game mostly has the same controls as an Otomate game, which is beyond nice as I don’t have to deal with learning a new set of controls while reading. I also appreciated that in the gallery, the game tells you in what chapter the missing CGs are located. FYI, the bad end/good end CGs are both labeled as in the same chapter. 

- The Manwha-esque plot

I ADORE otome isekai manwha, where the heroine is reincarnated or sent to her past. The evil, innocent-looking stepsister, horrible fiance, evil stepmother, and hated heroine tropes are in here at full force (at least in the common route) and I loved it. Also, in my opinion, even if TEMPEST didn’t fall into some of my common complaints about this manwha genre, namely when the heroine doesn’t tell her love interests about the reincarnation and when it’s all just a power fantasy. 

What I Didn’t:

- No MC Voice

I would have loved to hear Anastasia be outraged in the trials, done with her friends, tender in the romantic moments, or crying in the sadder cutscenes. With the amazing voice cast for even if TEMPEST, I have no doubt Anastasia’s casting would have been knocked out of the park. 

- Jumpscare

That was utterly terrifying. I don’t have any particular objection to its inclusion, but I almost dropped my Switch into a bowl of pineapple. 

- Typos

There was an issue where the last letter of each sentence got cut off in the displayed text in certain sections where text was displayed over a still image.

- Crashes

I believe my game crashed four or five times. Luckily, I had saved recently so not much progress was lost, but I’ve heard that other players experienced much more frequent crashes. Keep your copy updated!

Final Thoughts:

Definitely play this, though maybe wait for a sale if you aren’t willing to pay $50 for 15-25 hours of playtime. The plot was strong throughout, though I do wish the romance had a little more place in the story. Zenn and Lucien’s routes suffered from a focus on the plot, so I didn’t really feel Anastasia and her LIs getting closer. The epilogues were short and largely unsatisfactory (I hated Zenn’s. Tyril’s I wish had focused more on the character dynamics rather than a cute moment), but the main routes were strong enough that I don’t mind it too much. Though if a fandisc comes out, I’m going to snap it up as soon as possible. 

[bluemusickid]

Could you please write a Chris Evans imagine where the reader is an actress and has to shave her head or cut her hair short for a role and is worried that chris will no lomger be attracted to her anymore? And he reassures her that he loves her no matter what?

Oh damn, that's sweet. Lemme see what I can do. :)

My Girl

Pairing: Chris Evans x Actress!Reader

Warnings: fluff, self image issues, a lil anxiety, but it all works out in the end, mention of hair, 18+, MINORS DNI

A/N: This is such a cute request and I hope I have fulfilled it, atleast 50%, nonnie! Thanks for this wonderful request!! :) I personally, am conscious about my hair because it's reaaaallly curly and gets tangled really easily, but I still love it. So yeah, this reader kinda is me. 😅

I no longer do taglists, if you wish to be notified of my newest updates, pleeeease follow @lexiscyberlibrary ​ , and switch on the notifications!

My blog is 18+, MINORS DNI. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please heed the warnings before you start reading. I publish my work only on AO3 and Tumblr, nowhere else. I do not give permission to translate or reproduce my work anywhere else. Not beta'ed, any mistakes made, grammatical or otherwise, are all my own.

You groaned. It had been a week since you'd gotten your call sheet, and your fittings were tomorrow. The role was a juicy one, but the requirements were tough. You had to shave your hair, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Your hair was your pride and joy, and you took impeccable care of it. They were everyone's envy, and self admittedly one of the few things about yourself that you were really proud of.

Maybe you should just GI Jane it. Demi looked hot, and so would you. Wouldn't you?

Sighing, you remembered all those times Chris's fingers would be buried in your thick mane, kissing you senseless, or to slow you down when you would make him feel good. He was obsessed with your hair and the feel of it between his fingers, he made sure he would tell you every time.

You dropped the razor quickly, as though it might burn you. If it weren't for the damned contract, you would've walked away. Why did you listen to your team? You groaned, getting up. You needed to go for a run, just to clear your mind. Many would think it stupid, that you were lamenting the loss of your hair, but it really was a big deal for you. You plugged in your earphones and took off, mind running mile a minute.

Panting, you take off your shoes as you make your way to your bathroom, earphones still blasting loud music. The loud tones of Arctic Monkeys drowned out Chris' voice as you began undressing, unaware of his presence.

You turned around absent-mindedly and screamed, only to see him giggle at your horror.

"You IDIOT, I NEARLY DIED OF A HEART ATTACK!" you screamed, your heart hammering away in your ribcage. The man and his childish pranks would be the death of you someday, you were sure of it.

"Sorry, baby, but you were blasting music; I was fully well having a conversation with you but you didn't hear me!"

"Sorry, sorry, I guess that's on me." You grumbled, half heartedly.

"What were you saying?"

"I was asking you why you kept the razor on the counter. Were you gonna give Dodger a shave?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." You muttered. He did not need to know about your anxiety, and you were pretty sure he would laugh at you.

"Hey, is everything ok?"

"Yeah, of course." You murmured, trying to look preoccupied. You were sure that if he looked into your eyes, you would melt.

He walked to you, nudging your chin upwards. "Talk to me, baby. Is something wrong?"

You hesitated. Would he understand?

"I...There's a prerequisite for my new role. I...kinda have to...shave my hair off. Like all of it."

He raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"And?"

"What are you worried about, then?"

You arched an eyebrow. "Exactly that."

"Exactly what?" He said, a bit cluelessly.

"Jesus Christ, Christopher. You're so obtuse sometimes." You huffed, walking off.

"What did I do now?"

You rubbed a hand over your face. Him not understanding was everything you were afraid of, and here he was doing the same thing.

"My hair is very important to me. You can say that it's one of the few things I actually love about myself, about my...looks. And I know that it sounds stupid, and that it's just "hair", but it really means a lot to me. I'm afraid that if I shave my hair, I'll lose the one thing I love the most: you."

"Me? What?!"

"Yeah, you might find me...I dunno...weird to look at or something. You could leave me." You whispered, your voice suddenly cracking. You didn't even consider the possibility of him leaving.

"Sweetheart, look at me. Please."

You met his gaze, dubiously. His blue eyes brimmed with love and sincerity; soft and filled with unspoken emotion.

"You are the most gorgeous person I've ever met, on the inside and outside. I love every part of you, and will always do so. While I do love your hair, it isn't the only part of you I like. I'm not with you because of your hair, I'm with you because of your kind heart and your great personality."

Circling his arms around your waist, he urged you closer, resting your head on his chest. You wound your arms tightly around him, squeezing your eyes shut.

"You are not defined by your physical attributes, honey. They're a part of you. And you're gonna kill me for saying this, but it's hair. It grows back. So many actors have shaved their hair for roles. And you know what? I know you'll look spectacular and kill it on the screen, like you always do."

Dropping a soft kiss on your forehead, he whispered, "We're in it for the long haul, babe. Looks are not gonna get in the way of what we have. You were, are, and always will be the most beautiful woman to me."

"In the world?" You pouted.

He laughed. "Yes."

"In the Universe?"

"Yes."

"In the galaxy?"

He scratched his beard. "I dunno. There might be hotter aliens out there."

He chuckled as you swatted him. Goofball.

You both were in the bathroom, the razor whirring in your hand.

"Are you sure about this?" You asked, trepidation ripe in your voice.

"Yes. Solidarity, sister."

"Ugh. I love you, but please, never say that."

He chuckled as you ran the razor over his head, shaving off his wonderful locks. You loved his hair, and you were kinda sad to see it being shaved off. But he was right. It's hair. It grows back.

You marvelled at your handiwork. Chris with a buzzcut was...hot. And his spiky hair felt good too. Your core tightened as you imagined where else it would feel good.

"I know what you're thinking, babe. Let's get done with this, and we might indulge some of those thoughts."

You grinned. "You're too darn perceptive, babe. Might get you in trouble, you know?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Really? Lookin' forward to it, then."

"Ready?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, he winked at you before running the razor over your head.

Eeeeeep, not sure how this turned out. Hope everyone liked it. Please do leave a comment, and reblog, it really helps me out. Thanks!

-Lexi.