#t: jobs gone awry

[skilledmeowjesty]

"You're awake"

Pairing: Zayne x gender neutral MC

Genre: Hurt/comfort/angst

Rating: T (mentions of death and it's kinda heavy but 100% sfw)

Word count: 1,096

Tags: hurt, angst, comfort, happy ending

Content: the MC's brush with death effects Zayne pretty intensely

AN: I read this post, and this is what ended up happening. I wrote this as a slight apology to my bestie because I sent the OG post to them and obviously, it hurt, and since Zayne is their bias, I wrote a "fix it" fic. It's not written in in usual x reader fic fashion but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

The clock on the wall gave voice to the passing time, each second feeling like hours, each hour feeling like centuries

Beep

Beep

Beep

The heart monitor beeped along with it, confirming that the person hooked to the machine was alive, the weak and damaged organ still beating, still working, even after all that happened, after the blow it took

But even with so many wires, so many machines hooked to them, Zayne didn't release his hold on their wrist, his thumb pressed firmly to their pulse point, needing to feel it himself, feel their heartbeat, their warmth, confirmation they were ALIVE

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

His own heart had nearly stopped when he got that call the day before, that the mission their team was on had gone awry, and them, being the person they always were, brave and so reckless and self sacrificing, had jumped in front of their teammate, taking a full blow of a wanderer's attack, straight to their heart, and it had stopped

Beep

Beep

Beep

Their partner on the mission, Xavier, to his credit, had acted quickly, using his Evol to teleport them to the front of the hospital, where Zayne was ready to perform an emergency surgery, able to pull them from death's door, and save their life

But that was nearly 20 hours ago, and they still hadn't woken

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

He tried his hardest not to be bitter when he left the operating room after the surgery and saw Xavier sitting in the waiting room, tried to hide the ice in his tone when he gave his curt answer to the other man's question on their status, tried to keep hatred out of his eyes, but from Xavier's reaction, it was clear he wasn't successful

He knew it wasn't his fault, that they ALWAYS acted on their own accord, that unless Xavier had physically pulled them back, restrained them, nothing would have stopped them from trying to be a shield, but Zayne couldn't help it

He almost lost them, and if they didn't wake up, if they didn't pull through, he knew in his heart he would hate Xavier, almost as much as he would hate himself for not being able to save them

Beep

Beep

Beep

“They'll pull through”

Both the voice and the hand on his shoulder nearly made him jump out of his skin, not having felt Dr. Grayson's presence at all, not having even heard the man enter the room when all of his attention was hyper focused on the pulse under his thumb, feeling it weakly thump out signs of life, signs they were alive

Zayne said nothing in reply, and the other doctor simply sighed then, before leaving the room once more, Zayne vaguely hearing him mention that no one was to disturb him to the nurses that were waiting outside

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

He had canceled all other surgeries, all other duties, refusing to leave their bedside until they woke up, until he could hear their voice again

He couldn't focused on anything, his mind would only be focused on them, on their recovery, if they'd recover

Beep

Beep

Beep

He knew how he felt, of course he knew, he had known for a long time, years, he's been in love with them since they were both children, but he never gave his feelings voice

Why? He didn't know. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was pride, maybe it was the assumption they had all the time in the world to navigate their relationship, allowing it to develop “naturally”, or maybe it was a combination of all three, but it was clear as day now he couldn't defy faith, their job was too dangerous, able to take their life so easily, and yet he hadn't uttered a word

He couldn't live with that, with the knowledge that they almost left this world, and they would have done so while he was too cowardly to let them know how he felt, how he's always felt

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Beep

Beep

Beep

A soft groan pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up, seeing the wince on their face as they stirred awake, their eyes finally fluttering open, voice weak and cracking as they finally spoke

“What.. happened…?” They blinked, confusion overtaking their features as they looked around, before those break taking eyes finally landed on him

“Dr. Zayne?”

His own voice caught in his throat, opening his mouth a few times but unable to utter a word, and their eyebrows knit together as they stared at him

“What's wrong?” They asked, shifting to sit up more, their gaze intense, “why are you crying?”

It was only in that moment that Zayne realized he had been, too focused on them that he failed to notice his vision had blurred, the tears that had made a path down his cheeks, and he found himself wondering vaguely for how long

“You're awake” he simply said once he found his voice, tone steady, a sharp contrast to the emotions whirling around inside of him

A weak quirk of the corner of their lips made a slight smirk, their tone taking on a teasing air, “of course I'm awake” they said with a scoff and slight shake of their head, “I wouldn't let a little wanderer take me ou-”

Their words were cut off by the press of his lips, the rest of their sentence stolen away with his kiss, the movement so quick, it completely caught both of them off guard, them, not expecting it, and he himself not able to control the impulse any longer, not after feeling the overwhelming relief that flooded over him, he had cupped their cheeks and kissed them without fully being aware of what he was doing

But he couldn't hold back any longer, not wait another second, not after the horrible day he had had sitting at their bedside

Their eyes, which were wide as saucers at first, slowly closed, relaxing against him, accepting a kiss with one of their own, their hand coming up to cup his own cheek, the monitor hooked to their finger cold against his skin as the machine's beeping picked up with their pulse

Finally, the two parted, and he pressed his forehead to theirs, his eyes boring into theirs with such intensity, it made their breathing hitch

“You're awake” Zayne simply repeated, his fingers almost trembling against their skin

“Yeah.. I am..” the smile they gave this time, was much more gentle

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @legolasbadass @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

His first few days back were far busier than he’d anticipated, as he had much to catch up on in his absence. But he had no complaints about what had been left for him, as Dís had done a more than competent job in managing things in his stead. Even so, she was also very willing and happy to turn his duties back over to him.

He had been back in Erebor for almost a week when Dís rapped on the door to his flat. “Thorin, do you have a moment?”

He’d been on his sofa, head back, eyes closed, and lifted his head to call, “It’s open. Come in.”

The door swung open and he braced himself for the whirlwind that was his sister as she barreled into the room, the beads woven into her beard clacking with every step. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d decided to take the day off.”

He smiled. “No. I was up late last eve with Balin, catching up on the progress at Esgaroth and Dale. Men built at a far slower pace than dwarves, it seems, and they like to pad their bills as much as possible.”

Dís’ forehead wrinkled slightly. “Are we being cheated?”

“No more than usual and with Balin’s keen eyes keeping close watch, we catch each and every mistake before the bill is paid. It’s amazing how many mathematical errors find their way into invoices.”

“Perhaps we should rethink—”

“No. I gave my word, Dís.” He shook his head slowly. “And I went back on it once. I cannot do so again, but I also will not let them take me for a fool, either. Balin is far more diplomatic than I will ever be, and so when he calls them on their nonsense, they rectify it at once.”

“You’ve more patience than I would, I’ll have you know. I do not look kindly on those who think to steal from me.”

“Nor do I, but in all honesty, I think Bard is honest as well and if we didn't catch it, he most likely would.”

Dís hardly looked convinced even as she replied, “If you say so.”

“Either way, you needn’t worry about it.” He sat up, hands clasped between his knees. “Now, I know you came here not to be bored with construction news that you’ve already been privy to.”

“You know me well, brother.” She skirted the stone table before the sofa to settle alongside him. “There is something I wished to ask you and I hope you’ll not think I am meddling too much.”

“Which of course means you are about to meddle.” He said it with a smile, for no matter how much meddling Dís did—and she could be quite meddlesome when the mood struck—her intentions were of the best where he was concerned and he understood that, even if it threatened to drive him into madness time and again.

“Yes, it does.” Her hand came to rest on his knee. “Did you still wish me to see about inviting Elisin to come stay for a bit?”

He sighed softly. Elisin was the woman he’d at one point planned to court. She was a distant cousin, and one he’d known most of his life. He wasn't madly in love with her, but they got on well and should Mahal see fit for them to have children, she would be a fine mother.

But that was before Nina Carren came into his life.

Nina. 

His stomach curdled with fury at her betrayal. Why couldn’t he simply forget about her? She’d played him false, pretended to care, all the while plotting to end his life. 

For five thousand in gold.

Trouble was, he couldn't forget about her and no matter how busy he tried to be, she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the memory of her, and as more time passed, he found himself on the verge of pining for her and that was the last thing he wanted or needed.

 “Thorin?”

“Yes, please. By all means, invite her to come stay for a bit. There is still much to be done here, but she will be comfortable enough. And, as you reminded me before I departed for Rivendell, I am growing no younger and should think about taking a wife and giving Erebor a queen.”

“And you wish to do this now? You told me at the time to mind my own matters.”

“Things change.”

“What things?” She gave his knee a squeeze. “Did something happen whilst you were in Rivendell? A romance with an elf that went sour, perhaps?”

He chuckled. “No, our relations with the elves are better than they were, but they will never be that good.”

“So what is it, then?”

“Nothing. It is only that I’ve traveled far and nearly died and realize that my life is passing and I’ve little to show for it in the way of personal matters.”

“Are you certain that is all? You haven’t seemed like yourself since you returned. And I know you hate when I pry, as you like to call it, but you just… you seem unhappy, Thorin. And I hate seeing you unhappy and you know that. So, is that all?”

A knowing look accompanied her words and he braced himself for her to ask about Nina—or the mystery mercenary, as Dís kept calling her. When she said nothing more, he offered up a silent prayer of thanks and shook his head slowly. “I am tired, is all. It was an adventure, both getting to and coming from Rivendell. We crossed paths with a determined orc pack just beyond Rivendell’s borders and I am fairly certain we met up with them again outside Mirkwood’s.”

“I told you that you should take more than just Dwalin.” She squeezed his knee again. “But don't tell him I said that.”

“I won’t. And you were probably right. But, rest assured, I have no plans on leaving Erebor to go any further than Dale or Esgaroth for the near future.”

“Good. Then I will extend an invitation to Elisin and perhaps we might have a party of sorts to welcome her?”

“I think that sounds doable.”

“Then I will see it done and posted before luncheon.” She rose, then peered down at him, her face lined with concern, her blue eyes, so like his own, troubled. “Are you certain nothing else troubles you?”

“I’m positive.”

“Very well.” 

She bent to press a kissing the top of his head, and then with a soft clacking, let herself out and silence fell upon him once more. As the door closed behind her, he let his head fall to the back of the sofa once more. All he wanted to do was forget Nina. Forget the magical night he’d spent with her.

Forget that he was on the verge of falling in love with her. 

Perhaps Elisin’s arrival would help him do just that. 

A low sigh leaked through his teeth. Somehow, he knew he was just lying to himself.

“Yer Sigrid’s friend, ain’t ye?”

Cold grey eyes alit on her and while those eyes sent a shiver along her spine, Nina managed to keep that to herself as she smiled and nodded. “I am, yes. She told me you needed serving girls and I’d like to apply for the job."

The tavern proprietor, Harald narrowed his eyes as he gave her a long up-and-down appraisal. “Sigrid told ye I needed help, did she? Ye have any experience?”

Drawing in a deep breath, she slowly shook her head. Although her fever had broken several days ago, after the doctor Sigrid brought to the flat treated her infected wound, Nina still felt a bit unsteady and tired easily. Hopefully, Harald hadn’t noticed. “No, but I am fast learner and I’m quick on my feet.” 

He didn't look at all convinced or inclined to offer her a job, but then he shrugged and with a heavy sigh, said, “I’ve nothing to lose, I s’pose. Business is still slow, and Margrete’s been complaining about needing help. When can ye start?”

“When do you need me to start?”

“Can ye be here this eve? ‘Bout half-six?”

“Done.” She held out her hand.

He looked down at it, then up at her once more, then slowly reached to clasp that hand. “Don’t be late, girlie.”

“I won’t be.”

“And try to dress up a little,” he advised, his smile becoming a bit of a leer. “Show some skin. Ye’ll thank me.”

The thought turned her stomach, but she managed to nod. “Of course.”

“Go on, then. Go home and change.”

“I will see you at half-six.” She turned and made her way back out into the warm sunlight to go home.

Home. 

It had been so long since she’d had a home—a true home—but now she did, as Sigrid had told her she was welcome to remain with her in the small flat at the end of the alley. Nina had her own small, cozy room, and as she recuperated, her friendship with Sigrid picked up where it had left off, with late night chats filled with laughter and gossip, although Nina had no idea who had the people Sigrid mentioned were. And it didn't matter. She would come to know them in time. As the days passed and her wounds healed, she was the one who insisted she needed to find a job. Sigrid told her to take as much time as she needed, but Nina couldn't bear the thought of being a burden for any longer than was absolutely necessary. 

So, that was when Sigrid suggested Nina come talk to the Black Swan’s owner, sure he would give her a job. And now, as she strolled along the alley toward the flat, she managed a slight smile. She was becoming adept at beginning her life anew. And that’s what this was as well, another chance. 

The alley ended at a low stone wall that overlooked the Long Lake and what would one day again be Esgaroth. As her ability to get around returned, Nina found herself out there, at the low stone wall, more than once, just gazing out at what had been her home.

She sighed as she reached that wall and sank onto the wide flat top, her back against the stone building it met. Day after day, she sat there, just gazing out at the city under construction. Despite her distance from Esgaroth, she could hear the faint sounds of men working to rebuild, watched as new pilings replaced the charred, ruined ones. Watched as the walkways and bulkheads and platforms were erected and houses framed out upon them. 

It was bittersweet, seeing the rebirth of Esgaroth. Her life there had been difficult, but happy. She loved her family, they loved her, and although they were not wealthy by any means, thanks to her father’s disappearance and the Master’s greed, they had still been happy. 

Until the dwarves of Erebor arrived. They changed everything. 

And one of them had changed her forever.

She never regretted anything as much as she did going to see Tarog. What a fool she was, thinking she could be a cold-blooded killer, no matter how angry she’d been with Thorin. Truth be told, by the time she spied him in the tavern, her anger had faded, her grief had not run its course, but had become manageable. When she’d spotted him, she felt an initial burst of fury, but by the time she caught up to him in the clearing and took the arrow meant for him, it had begun to fade.

He’d seen to it she was cared for, and allowed her to join them.

By the time they’d shared their first kiss, she knew she was in trouble. 

And now?

Now she sighed, gazing out at the Long Lake as the sun burned across it to make its surface shimmer like fire.

“Show some skin,” she murmured, smiling at the shimmering lake. “Somehow, that isn’t very likely.”

****

In the year since Erebor had been reclaimed, restoration had been at a steady pace. Day after day, the city reverberated with activity and Thorin had no complaints with how Dís had run things in his stead. If he and his nephews had succumbed to their injuries, she would have made as fine a ruler as their cousin Dáin, who would have inherited the throne. He’d often thought about naming her his heir, should something else befall both him and her sons. He still hadn’t ruled it out entirely. 

He stood at the landing that overlooked the treasure hoard of Erebor. It had been depleted some since they reclaimed the mountain, and while it had pained him at first, now, it no longer troubled him in the slightest. He had much to atone for and rebuilding both Esgaroth and Dale were a small price to pay. 

Even with what the treasury of Erebor had parted with there was still a sea of gold. An ocean of gemstones of every cut and color. As he leaned against the railing of pure gold, against the wall of labradorite so green it looked almost black and had been polished to a mirror finish, and gazed out at that sea, a low sigh came to his lips. 

A feeling of restlessness came over him, and he pushed away from the wall to make his way down the one intact staircase leading to the hoard. In time, the second one would be refurbished, but for now, the one was more than enough. 

The stones and coins and other treasures shifted slightly beneath his bulk as he picked his way around all of it, wading into the center of the chamber. He didn't know what he looked for, only that he would know when he found it.

And find it, he did. A beautiful emerald the size of his fist. He scooped it up, the facets glittering under the torchlight as it rolled in his palm. The deep green stone reminded him of a pair of eyes almost that same rich shade. Eyes he’d lost himself in. Eyes he wished he could always lose himself in.

The eyes of a traitor.

He scowled at the stone and drew his arm back to fire it deeper into the chamber when Dís appeared on the landing. “What are you doing?”

His arm lowered of its own. “I’m bidding some old ghosts farewell.” He tucked the emerald into his trouser pocket. “What brings you here?”

“Elisin arrived earlier. I sent her to freshen up from her journey.”

“She made good time.”

“I think she was in a hurry to make certain no one else claimed your heart first.”

He forced a laugh to his lips. “Tell her there is no danger of that happening.”

“Isn’t there?” Dís came down the stairs, then carefully stepped into the sea of wealth. “You’ve been moping about here for the past fortnight as if someone has died. Now, give over and tell me. It’s your mystery mercenary, isn’t it?”

Annoyance bubbled through him, but he tamped it down as he shook his head. “No. It isn’t and there is nothing to tell, Dís.” He crossed over to her, holding out a hand as she stumbled over a jumble of gold plates. 

She caught it, her fingers tightening about his. “Thorin, do not lie to me. I know you better than you think.”

He sighed. “Dís, please… I’ve no wish to discuss it.”

“Very well. I’ll not press, but if you ever wish to—”

“I know,” he replied, offering her his arm. “Why don't we go above and I can reacquaint myself with Elisin?”

She looked as if she didn't believe him, but thought better of trying to force the issue. Instead, she nodded. “Very well.”

They crossed back to the staircase and once they were on the main floor, Dís pulled her arm free. “I’ll go fetch Elisin. You try not to look so broody. You’ll frighten her off.”

He scowled. “I do not brood.”

“I do not brood.”

“Thorin, you were staring off into the dark forever.” Nina affixed him with a long look. “That’s brooding.”

“I was thinking.”

“You were brooding. It’s all right. You can admit it.”

Why couldn't he stop thinking about Nina? She betrayed him. She was going to end his life for five thousand pieces of gold. 

So, why did thinking of her hurt as well as make him angry? In fact, why was the hurt overtaking the anger a little more with each passing day?

Because hurt was the only description he had for what could only be described as an ache in his heart. 

“Thorin?”

He started, jolted from his reverie. “What?”

Dís offered up a queer look. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere,” he waved off her concern, “so, go and fetch Elisin. I look forward to seeing her again.”

He hoped the smile he forced to his lips didn’t look so forced to his sister. She had an uncanny knack for seeing through any and all facades when it came to her sons and her brother. But the truth was, he cared nothing for seeing Elisin. In reality? He wanted to go and find Nina, to ask her why she’d chosen to hunt him. Why she instead stepped in front of that arrow for him, why she put herself between him and an orc’s blade, if she wanted to kill him? And had she truly attempted to kill him that last night?

But he had no idea where he might look for her, and even if he found her, there was no telling that his anger wouldn’t get the best of him. It might have faded some, but it hadn’t gone entirely. Not yet, anyway.

“Are you certain?” Dís asked.

“I am, indeed,” he assured her.

“Very well. Try not to brood too much longer.”

“I will do my best.”

He watched her leave, then turned back to the hoard, withdrawing the emerald from his pocket. It lay in the palm of his hand, glittering in the flickering torchlight. For a moment, he thought about hurling it back into the sea of gemstones, but then instead slipped it back into his pocket. 

[zktop10]

BEST OF 2021!

Hello and welcome back to ZKTOP10! I’m your host, AWildJax, and I’m coming to you from my laptop at like quarter to midnight today. 

I have recorded data from 1123 fics BY HAND in order to bring you the Top 10 Best Fics of 2021!

Disclaimer: This is not inclusive of all Zutara fics posted in 2021. Firstly, the range actually goes from 12/1/20 to 11/30/21 because the December 2021s wouldn’t stand a chance. Also, fics were filtered to exclude crossovers and the underage tag (with one fic disqualified after improper tagging was found). Only fics written in English and containing ONLY the Katara/Zuko relationship (otp: true) were counted.

There are adult content fics in this list so I will be hiding it under the cut because I don’t want to get yelled at.

Rating specific lists to follow!

READ MORE TO SEE LIST!

Title: Let's Be Alone Together Author: AndreaAnEnigma Rated: E Summary: Katara needs a roommate after Sokka moves out, and Zuko needs a place to stay after disowning his awful family. Too bad they hate each other. When their friends force them to move in together, they're prepared to spend as little of their time in the apartment as possible—until a global pandemic and mandatory lockdown bring them closer than they ever expected. Score: 10 / 10

Title: Covered in You Author: evergreenonthehorizon Rated: M Summary: Zuko can’t keep a Southern Water Tribe ambassador to save his life. Ten years post-war and he’s gone through eight of them. They all keep leaving to get married and start families. The Fire Lord is getting desperate.

——

Written for Zutara Month 2021 Day 2: Ambassador

Rating has changed to M! Please be aware! Score: 10 / 10

Title: An Unlikely Alliance Author: thesavagedaughter0627 Rated: T Summary: When Katara finds herself separated from her brother and Aang, she finds herself alone in the Earth Kingdom desert. The last person she expects to encounter is Prince Zuko. But with him no longer pursuing the Avatar and with her in need of help to locate her friends, the two of them form a tenuous alliance. Score: 10 / 10

Title: rhythm of the rain keeps time Author: tiffaniesblews Rated: M Summary: After finally confronting and killing her mother's killer, Katara must learn to start trusting Zuko once again.

Except their plans to get back to their friends go awry when a rare thunderstorm hits the Fire Nation, causing Katara and Zuko to become separated from Appa. Together, they must make their way through the Fire Nation, even though Katara is still unsure of her feelings towards Zuko.

As they continue their journey, Katara finds Zuko slowly opening up to her once again, confiding in her the deepest parts of his soul. Soon, Katara finds herself doing the same, baring her soul to Zuko even though the last time she had done so, he turned around and betrayed her. Leaning on each other, they learn to be vulnerable as they work to reunite with their friends.

But is the road to recovery, or even home, ever easy? Score: 9.9 / 10

Title: Partners in Learning Author: evergreenonthehorizon Rated: T Summary: All of Izumi’s teachers prior to this one have used the term “partners in learning.” But never before has it seemed true. And now, here he is, eyeballs deep in markers and glitter glue, somehow the most involved parent in the classroom.

----

In which Izumi idolizes her new teacher and Zuko falls a little bit in love. Score: 9.9 / 10

Title: The Fortuneteller and the Fire Prince Author: JasmineTeaLatte Rated: T Summary: When a bounty hunter's shirshu is injured just outside of Makapu Village, the local fortuneteller finds herself playing host to a disgruntled Fire Prince and his companions. However, he's not entirely sure if he's ready to hear her visions of his future, especially when she makes a startling prediction regarding the woman he'll marry someday... Score: 9.9 / 10

Title: Summer of Distractions Author: gimmezutara Rated: E Summary: Katara accepts a job as an ambassador in the Fire Nation. She soon finds that the most intriguing part of her summer isn't the job, but rather is her growing feelings for the Fire Lord. Score: 9.9 / 10

Title: Love & War Author: seraluci Rated: M Summary: Katara has escaped her imprisonment in the Fire Nation. Prince Zuko has defected.

Now, they must navigate their muddled relationship while traveling through treacherous enemy territory, and they must find Katara's friends once more if the Fire Lord is to be defeated once and for all.

Sequel to Smoke & Mirrors. Score: 9.8 / 10

Title: Hesitance Author: laadychat Rated: E Summary: During their separation, Katara and Zuko realized something important about them and their relationship with each other. It was scary - how it all progressed so fast. And with the reality of the invasion hanging close, it was a comfort to know they have each other's side.

But that doesn't mean fate was going to make things easier for them. Score: 9.8 / 10

Title: Ten Strides in the Right Direction Author: evergreenonthehorizon Rated: T Summary: These coming days will bring darkness and destruction, but if these little flecks of happiness continue to blaze through the bleak blackness, then nothing that is bad will prevail.

----

Written for Zutara Month 2021 Day 3: Cuddling for Warmth Score: 9.8 / 10

[strawwritesfic]

Peter Parker x Pregnant!Female!Stark!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 4]

Summary: The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, the best laid plans of teenagers even more so.

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Bonus Two -- Teenage Pregnancy

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; two underage people having consensual sex off the page; teenage pregnancy; family drama; mixed families; teenage cruelty; discussion of abortion; discussion of adoption; foul language; crude humor; postpartum depression; Stark!Reader; Lila & Reader friendship)

Pairings: Peter Parker x Female!Reader; Tony/Pepper; Happy/May; Steve/Bucky; Clint/Laura; past!Tony/Reader’s Mom

Tag List: @imaginesfire​, @plutoneu​

Master List

Chapter 4: Surprise!

Over the course of your admittedly short life, you had learned one truth for certain: waiting was the greatest agony anyone could endure. Whether it was waiting for the cancer to take your mother’s life; waiting for the results of the DNA test to declare whether or not Tony Stark really was your father or waiting for Peter to get around to asking you out, the times you spent without any recourse to act on your own always stood out as the worst.

The week leading up to that fateful Christmas dinner with the Parkers (and Happy) was no different. You seemed to rush through every single activity in a haze of anxiety. Though you put a painstaking amount of effort into your hair and your makeup and your clothes that evening, you were still left your private bathroom with plenty of time to loiter in the entrance hall before they arrived.

“Hey, kiddo. Good to see you out of your room for once,” your dad said as you stepped inside.

You still hadn’t told him the truth. How could you? Pepper might not have been eager to have guests for the holidays, but your dad always was. Telling him you’d slept with one of those guests would ruin not just his party but his entire Christmas. The only way you could even begin to quash the gnawing guilt in your stomach was to stay locked in your room—and you kind of wish you’d thought to stay there until everyone else got there that night, too.

“You look nice,” he said into the uncomfortable silence. He wore a simple dark suit, something you hardly ever saw him in at home. Seeing that he’d dressed up as well came as some relief, since you’d sort of gone overboard with your own party clothes, if for no other reason than needing something to do with your hands.

“Thanks,” you managed to mutter. “Is anyone else here yet?”

“Just waiting on May, Peter, and Happy.”

“So everyone else already got here?”

Your dad shook his head. “It is just them this year. Your Uncle Rhodey got called out on a last minute job.”

“Steve and Bucky?”

“Wanted to spend their first Christmas Eve as a married couple without having to argue with me over who gets the last piece of Pepper’s fudge.”

Thank God. The fewer people you had to pretend in front of the better. Though you now had only five to worry about, you still felt mere inches away from completely losing your head. Some of this must have shown on your face, because your dad frowned and moved closer to you.

“Are you that upset about not seeing Steve and Bucky for Christmas?” Before you could shake your head, he’d already moved on. “Nah, that’s stupid. You don’t want to share the fudge either. [Name], are you all right? You’ve been acting a little weird lately.”

It was so much harder for you to pretend when he looked you right in the eyes like that. “Weird how?” you asked.

“Just quiet. Hiding in your room all the time. Is that group project still bugging you? We could look into transferring you somewhere else if the girls are becoming a problem.”

“No!” you said swiftly, and immediately regretted it.

“No, that’s not what’s bothering you, or no, you don’t want to transfer schools? Because I thought we had a major blowout because you wanted to go to school with Peter.”

Why, oh why hadn’t you kept your big mouth shut? Now was not the time to confess to your father that your preoccupation lay in the overwhelmingly terrifying knowledge that you were going to have a baby. Yes, you had whined about going to Midtown School of Science and Technology before, but you highly doubted your dad would be gung-ho about a transfer once he found out that even going to different schools had not prevented you from being alone with Peter long enough to get knocked up.

An unusual worry line appeared in your father’s forehead. He placed both his hands on your shoulders.

“What aren’t you telling me, [Name]?” he asked.

You felt an intense pressure on the backs of your eyes as he gazed at you. When no one else had wanted you, he had taken you in. He was your dad. It wasn’t as though he’d never been in a similar position before; he just hadn’t been aware of it at the time. Surely he would still love you after you told him…but how he’d feel about Peter was an entirely different story. Then again, how long could you hold out just to keep Peter safe?

A minute or two passed. Finally, you wilted under your father’s obvious concern. “Dad, I—”

The elevator doors pulled open, cutting off your confession in the nick of time.

“We’re here!” May called as she, Peter, and Happy swept into the foyer.

May was wearing an absolutely beautiful sparkling dress in navy, Happy his usual black and white suit, and Peter…well, Peter had on an nice-looking suit of his own, but also an expression of blank horror that caused your stomach to jolt as though you’d missed a step coming down the stairs.

Your father seemed to forget all about your conversation the second May came up to embrace him. “Hey, May.” He kissed her cheek. “Hanukkah Sameach.”

“Ah! Chag Sameach to you, too. Thanks so much for having us.”

“Don’t mention it. I hate having the place empty during the holidays. Reminds me too much of my childhood.”

While Happy stepped up to shake your dad’s hand, May walked over to hug you in turn. “Hey, you. How’s it going?” she asked.

“Fine,” you lied.

She was warm and smelled like honey. To your vast relief, she did not contradict your answer. Peter had kept his word. His aunt didn’t know your dirty secret yet either.

Clearly, Peter wasn’t happy about this, though. His hug following May’s was as stiff as it had ever been. He raised his eyebrows as he moved away, and there was no need for him to speak for you to understand what he was getting at.

You replied with a minuscule shake of your head.

His eyebrows contracted into one long line.

The next look you sent him was pleading: please, please understand.

This silent conversation might have gone on for some time, had Happy not interrupted with, “You two can make googly eyes at each other over the table, can’t you? I’m starving.”

“Coming!” you and Peter said, in similarly high-pitched voices. One last shared glance, then you trooped after the adults to the dining room where Pepper was waiting, a tiny pine wreath worked into a halo atop her long red hair.

“Merry Christmas!” May said cheerfully, sliding into the seat across from her.

“I’m not sure what’s so merry about it,” Pepper griped.

Happy smiled as he sat down next to his girlfriend. “Pregnancy treating you well, I take it?”

“Unless you want to find out how it feels to be stabbed by a carving fork, I suggest you don’t mention it again.”

“Duly noted.”

Your dad kissed Pepper on the temple before he sat at the head of the table. She sent him a look of pure venom in return. Luckily the seating arrangements left you and Peter across from each other with a gap between you and your hormonal step-mother. The subject you needed to speak of couldn’t be brought up without notice, but at least you could count on Happy and your father to bear the brunt of Pepper’s temper.

Soon, everyone was too caught up in eating to give anymore thought to your strange behavior. Mashed potatoes, turkey, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, and latkes mingled together on every plate. Pepper took a whole extra scoop of the casserole, the dish you’d spent the better part of the morning laboring over to get just like the one your mother used to make. You remained so busy inhaling your own food that it took you nearly emptying your plate to realize that Peter hadn’t touched his.

“You okay?” you asked.

“No,” he said incredulously.

A great swooping sensation filled your stomach, as though you’d just gone tumbling off the top of the tower or something. He really wanted to talk about this here? Now? Okay, so you hadn’t really done a lot of communicating with him since he’d left the day you’d told him the awful truth—but you thought you had both agreed it would be too easy for his aunt or your dad to accidentally see a text message they shouldn’t! Your dad’s Christmas dinner party was hardly the place to resume the discussion, even if all the adults seemed thoroughly invested in whatever conversation they were having.

Peter looked over to see the same thing you did. Apparently that did enough to assuage his nerves, because he plowed right on:

“I thought you were going to tell him!”

“I was,” you whispered hotly.

“Then what happened?”

“What happened was that we wound up having this!”

“So?”

“So? Peter, what do you think would happen if we told everyone before tonight?”

“Hey,” Happy called down the table. “You guys have something you’d like to share with the class?”

“No, sir,” you and Peter chorused.

You both immediately crammed huge bites of food into your mouths to prevent anyone from asking further questions. Happy’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment of uncomfortable silence, the four adults returned to their own conversation. Peter, on the other hand, did not return to anything resembling inconspicuous behavior.

“We can’t just not tell anybody, [Name]! Someone’s gonna find out.”

“I know, okay?”

“I don’t like keeping secrets.”

You tossed your fork onto your plate, completely oblivious to the clatter that arose from doing so. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the boy with an entire secret identity.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Are you guys breaking up?”

This time, it was May that interrupted you. Again, you and Peter swapped horrified looks.

“No!” he said.

“Not at all!” you added.

“We’re good.”

“Great, really.”

“Can I have some more latkes?”

None of them so much as glanced at Peter’s plate, which was, in fact, still full of latkes. Instead, after staring at the two of you for quite some time, all of the adults turned to look at each other.

“Peter’s been acting a little odd this week,” May said apologetically.

“Teenagers,” said your dad. “[Name]’s been skulking around, too. I’ve hardly seen her since she finished her finals.”

“You know, Peter started behaving like that after the spider bit him.”

“What,” said Happy, “you think [Name]’s transforming into the Amazing Spider-Girl?”

“Nah, she’d tell me if she getting superpowers. Right, [Name]?” asked your dad.

“Right,” you said weakly.

“She tells me everything.”

“No teenage girl tells her father everything,” Pepper put in.

“And you’d know this…how?”

“Because I was once a teenage girl myself.”

“Right,” your dad said. “Hard to remember with that belly you’ve got going.”

Pepper slammed her silverware down and let out a single bitter laugh. “All the insane people you’ve fought through the years, and you’ve decided the way you want Iron Man to die is via his wife strangling him the night before Christmas. I’d have thought you’d try for something a little more dramatic.”

“Want me to hold him down for you?” Happy offered.

“You’re fired,” said your dad.

“You can’t fire me. Who else is going to pick your sprog up from school?”

“I will.”

Happy snorted. “Yeah, she’ll love that.”

“She will,” your dad said indignantly. “Right, [Name]? [Name]?”

Tears obscured your vision so terribly that you could no longer see the room around you, nor the face of the boy sitting only a few feet away. The sound of several chairs being pushed back reached your ears, so you knew that it wasn’t only your father that had seen the water coursing down your cheeks. You still couldn’t stop crying. Though you made no noise, the strength it took to keep yourself in one piece put a sort of roaring in your ears.

You had not told your father everything. You had lied, not only to his face, but to his AI, to his wife, and even to his friends and coworkers. There he was, defending you and all the while you sat across from Peter defending all the selfish reasons you couldn’t tell the truth.

Your father trusted you—and it wasn’t even that that had finally cracked the fragile veneer of normalcy you’d been clinging so hard to. No, that was Pepper, a woman who people couldn’t even conceive of ever having been a teenager because she was pregnant. A teenager was what you were! How could you ever—

“Oh, honey.” May’s soft voice accompanied a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What’s the matter? I’m sorry if I interrupted. You and Peter can go somewhere else to talk.”

“They most certainly cannot,” said your dad.

“What did you do to the girl?” Happy asked.

“I didn’t do anything!” Peter said, in that high voice of his that he only reached when so nervous.

May shushed the men and turned your chair to face her. She alone was close enough for you to see the worry in her huge brown eyes. Clearly she couldn’t see the guilt in your face, because she lifted a hand and smoothed your hair with it—thoroughly ruining the elaborate hairdo you’d put it in, but who cared about that at a time like this? You practically launched yourself into her chest. A brief sound of confusion vibrated against your face; she did not, however, shove you away.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said soothingly.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. You were pregnant. In one fell swoop, you had ruined your life; you had ruined Peter’s life; and you’d probably ruined your dad and Pepper’s lives, too. May’s chest only somewhat muffled the gigantic sobs bursting out of your mouth. Still, the somewhat was enough to allow you to hear the rest of the conversation nearby:

“Kid, I really hate to kick you off the team, but if you hurt my daughter—”

“I didn’t! Mr. Stark, I swear I wasn’t breaking up with her!”

“He’s kidding, Peter.”

“Who said I was kidding? I take my daughter’s happiness very seriously.”

You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t take the idea of your dad firing Peter because of something you had done, something that was happening to you. You couldn’t take May comforting you when she would stop the minute she discovered the truth. And yet you didn’t have the strength to pull away from her. For days, you had wanted nothing more than someone to hold you, but were unable to explain why without giving yourself away. So you turned your head, just enough to expose half of your face to the cold world awaiting it.

“I’m pregnant,” you said hoarsely.

Only May seemed to hear. She stiffened, then slowly pushed you back into your chair. Her eyes were huge in her face. Meanwhile, Peter, Happy, and your dad continued to argue:

“You must have done something. Is this about her not going to that slumber party with Lila?” your dad said.

“Since when was [Name] having a slumber party with Lila?” Peter asked in a panic.

“I’m pregnant!”

The words exploded out of you upon repeating. They sucked the rest of the sound out of the room the moment they hit the air. Each other person there turned one by one to look at you, their expressions each a near-perfect mirror of May’s—or so you assumed, because you began crying too hard to see once again.

“I-I snuck out to see Peter the night the Avengers were Rotruvia. I knew he’d be alone because Dad told me May and Happy were going on a date! We-we had sex. I’m the one that started it. Not P-Peter!”

They had to know that. They needed to know that. The world needed Spider-Man; it did not need you. But that was not the only secret that needed unveiling. Now unlocked, your mouth couldn’t stop moving. You went on:

“I didn’t even have a group project at school. I-I l-lied so I would have time to by a preg-pregnancy test at the store before Happy came to pick me u-up. And-and-and then I lied about why I wouldn’t come out of my room and I-I-I don’t want to have a baby!”

No one said a single word. Silence fell so thoroughly in the dining room that you could have heard a pin drop. Instead, all you heard was Pepper continuing her meal at the other end of the table.

“Really? We’re kind of having a moment here,” your dad said.

“She’s your daughter,” Pepper replied.

“Yeah. It’s really starting to look that way, isn’t it?”

You had expected him to be angry. Heck, you’d expected him to be disappointed, which was exactly how he sounded. All that mental preparation for it amounted to nothing in the end. Looking at your father after that was beyond comprehension. Before anything more could be said, you stood and ran from the room.

At least Peter’s career was safe. The chances of you being safe anywhere anymore were slim to none. Maybe the best present you could give Pepper and your dad was getting packed before they told you to move out.

[locke-writes]

A Reunion

Author: locke-writes

Title: A Reunion

Request: Before Mark leaves for Mars he’s been flirting with someone at NASA, annoying literally everyone around him and the reader simply because neither will ask the other out but both clearly have feelings for one another. It’s reader who ends up discovering that Mark is alive on Mars and as soon as he gets the ability to contact NASA that flirting relationship begins all over again. Turns into the two of them falling in love from different planets and Mark finally asking reader out when he gets back to Earth (and after he showers, has a few press conferences, sees doctors and dentists and optometrists, and you know the general parade of people one has to see when stuck on Mars for over a year) For: Anonymous

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,218

Tag List: @ofthedewthesunlight​ / ask to be added

You'd met Mark when assisting with training for the Ares 3 mission. It was easy to talk to him, easy to bond with him and that went not just for everyone on the training team but for the crew as well. He was the glue that brought everyone together, that made the mission worthwhile because you knew there was a crew that could mesh well, that knew their jobs and wouldn't overstep their own boundaries. They cared for one another and Mark was the reason for that.

Much like everyone involved with the mission you got along well. He was charming, funny, and intelligent. Friendship grew quite easily at the expense of him learning your propensity for terrible jokes. Although what began solely as jokes and him teaching you odd botany facts turned into a flirtatious near-relationship. The reason it was a near-relationship being that neither one of you wanted to admit your feelings. Having just begun a friendship, turning that into a relationship was something that seemed difficult only in the fact of not wanting to ruin that friendship.

Oh and for Mark it was also the fact that even if you agreed to go on a date he was leaving for Mars and would be gone upwards of six months. It didn't seem fair to you that he should ask you to wait until he returned for a second date.

The other crew members noticed the flirting between the two of you and often left you and Mark alone in rooms together. They had grown from finding the two of you tiptoeing around one another adorable into finding it annoying that neither one of you would admit to your feelings. It was painful to be in the same room as the two of you because banter between you would at one point stray from a quick story about what you did over the weekend and turn into bad pick up lines.

You cared for him, in simple terms you had a crush on him. It was mutual, but it would never be acted upon and that was Mark's first regret when he realized that he had been left on Mars.

He never blamed the crew for leaving him, he knew that based on the damages and readings he was getting from his own suit that they would have read him as being dead. It was hard to blame someone for a decision that couldn't have been made any other way. There was no anger towards anyone at all but himself and only because he knew that there was no chance of him ever seeing you again, at least he believed there was no chance because there was, as far as he was aware, no chance of anyone ever finding out he was alive on Mars.

Of course the news of Mark's death hit everyone throughout NASA with some emotion, but it felt more personal than ever to you. You'd worked with him, you'd befriended him, you'd thought about one day having a relationship with him. In one moment there was hope, in one moment you could imagine the two of you laughing over dinner or holding hands in a movie theater, in the next moment you were at his funeral meeting his parents and giving them your condolences. You were given only a few days to grieve as everyone prepped for news conferences declaring his death publicly, then it was back to work. Back to pretending like nothing had ever happened.

Focusing on projects seemed difficult in the days that passed, perhaps it was only such as you were tasked with beginning the next Ares mission. As one ended the next began and you knew it must be so yet it was hard to focus when the last one had gone awry. An opportunity to cover someone in imaging worked well, it was a position that mainly consisted of looking at coordinates something that while important was also the sort of mind numbing work that you needed in the moment.

Coordinates were handed to you, various projects going on, various planets to maintain logs for. You enjoyed being able to view Saturn, view Jupiter in all their glory. In one way you knew that you'd have to look at Mars for some reason, with Ares 3 not completing the mission it made sense to look after the planet, look after the equipment and vehicles left behind. You knew that the request to scan Mars would come in, the specifics of the reason were not what you were thinking that NASA would want to focus on however and it made you sick to think that this was what NASA was working so hard on.

Search the coordinates of the Ares 3 mission and let them know if you could find Mark's body. The reason for their asking was reasonable, you had to convince yourself, it was the only way to get yourself to type in the coordinates. You'd thought that you had been looking at it wrong, typing in coordinates wrong. The first few days there was the HAB and a rover and nothing out of place, everything where it was meant to be, everything as it had been left. Then one day there were tracks, then one day there were solar panels, then one day it hit you that Mark was alive. He was alive and stranded and the images that you were seeing were accurate, unbelievable but accurate.

There really wasn't one person you knew to contact, you called whoever you could think and word spread quickly. Names were tossed about, names you knew vaguely of people so high up on the food chain that you'd never once believed you'd be in meetings disclosing all information to them. It was odd to be on a first name basis with a director in NASA, it was odd to be on a first name basis with anyone higher than your own manager.

It was odd for Mark to be alive.

Time moved quickly after that although your schedule had shifted to the point where there was no real sense of time. You were set to stare at Mars for hours, meant to be predicting what Mark was up to and pass it on in daily meetings. There was nothing to state, nothing really to predict because you didn't know what was running through Mark's head other than the possible idea that he believed he would die on Mars.

Meetings ran longer and were packed into days. Projects were shortened and funds relocated. You were focused on your tasks, focused on everything that had been assigned to you, focused on being the one to break it to the crew that Mark was alive. Focused on being the one to tell them that they had left him on Mars but could be the potential rescue convoy if a way was discovered. Focused on anything and everything but the way that you felt knowing Mark was alive.

In the beginning you knew it wasn't love. It couldn't have been love because you hadn't known Mark for a long enough period of time. It wasn't love now. Not love, longing.

As foolish as it might have sounded to others, you were still infatuated with him, still cared about him a great deal. Even with the lack of hope that he would make it throughout the days on Mars, that he would come back alive, still there was something that made you want to continue to think on him in the way you had when he was on Earth.

When it was evident that Mark had some form of contact with NASA the first person that he wanted to talk to was you. Yes, his crew would be nice as well but he wanted to make sure that you knew he was alive, he wanted to make sure that what he had left alone on Earth because he thought it wouldn't be fair to you was something that could potentially be back on the table.

He wanted to tell you a great many things.

And as soon as he was able you were the first person that he asked to speak to.

Sitting at the computer on another planet you didn't really know what to tell Mark. Didn't know what he had been told before you were ushered over to communicate with him. Had they told him you were the one to find him? Had they told him how worried you had been? What was he aware of and what was the kind of conversation you had with a man who was as far away as was possible?

It would be the worst long distance relationship in the world if you and Mark were actually dating. It would be the worst conversation in the world if it was anyone other than Mark but it was easy.

It was very easy when he started it off with a terrible pick up line about pirates. Mark had a lot to look forward to when he returned to Mars. Not having to eat pretty much only potatoes all the time, being able to wear real clothes, having more music variety, the list went on and on but the main thing that Mark was looking forward to was seeing you for the first time after coming home.

He needed to see you, to speak with you, and most importantly, to thank you. Having not known what you could disclose and what would remain secret you passed on a list of topics that you deemed part of appropriate conversation with Mark. One of which was the discussion about who had discovered him alive on Mars, it would have meant revealing that it was you who had called everyone, who blew everything wide open. Approval had been given on every topic.

And Mark was grateful. He was grateful that you paid enough attention that you noticed the changes he'd made to the HAB. He was grateful that you had been one of the first people to speak with him. And he was grateful that you continued to speak with him.

Most, if not all of Mark's conversations were open to the public but you'd managed to get permission for a private chat with Mark, completely free from the eyes of every person on Earth. Just you, Mark, and nearly all of NASA who wanted to keep an eye on the chat in case he revealed anything to you that he hadn't to the crew or the engineering team in his other chats.

It was easy to talk to Mark, it was easy for him to talk to you. It was easy for the two of you to fall in love with one another. That was something you worried about telling him but as the days passed, as the months passed and the conversations grew it became more apparent that underneath all the shameless flirting there was love, true unflinching love for one another. You loved one another and that was just one of the things that kept Mark focused on coming home.

Daily conversations were one of the only things that you really looked forward to.

Daily recaps of the proceedings that were bringing Mark home were one of the only things you really looked forward to.

Him coming home was something you were looking forward to.

Preparations were in full swing as the crew of Ares 3 had decided to rescue Mark. Preparations were in full swing as soon as Mark had finished 'upgrading' both rover and HAB. Preparations were in full swing with NASA having meetings set for both the best and worst outcomes.

You new NASA was going to be paying close attention to the retrieval of Mark but you couldn't watch. All you wanted to know was that it was successful and when that word had been passed on to you, relief was all that you felt. You'd be leaving imagining and heading back to your own office now, returning back to a life of some normality while Mark was drifting through space all the way back home.

Home, that's what Mark was thinking when he first set foot on Earth for the first time in over a year.

Home, that's what Mark was thinking when he went through multiple medical exams, all doctors poking and prodding and making certain that the time he spent on Mars hadn't caused any long lasting damage.

Home. That's what he was thinking of.

Home, and you.

He knew technically it would be better if he slept first before seeing you. Knew it would be better to sleep in his own bed in his own apartment after watering his own plants for the first time in too long. But he also knew where your office was and he knew (somewhat) what he wanted to say.

You hadn't known when to expect Mark but you had agreed to see him as soon as it was possible. Him bursting through the door and speaking far too rapidly was not what you had thought, even if it was far too fitting for the man you had fallen in love with.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight, can I kiss you, and also I love you."

[dankali]

How To Write Cheerleaders

Not saying that y’all are doing a bad job at it! But, as someone who has been a cheerleader, there’s room for improvement. So, I’m just gonna give my two cents for future reference to those who need it.

- In my experience, even though we come in all shapes and sizes, I’ve never seen an unfit competitive cheerleader. That doesn’t necessarily mean skinny! But, if they’re strong enough to keep themselves or someone else in the air, they’ve got some muscle on them.

- While, yes, you do see many male cheerleaders, they are a minority. If a team happens to have a male member, he’ll usually end up as a base or backspot.

- If you want to have a character on a high school team, know this. Practices will happen a majority of days in the week. Let’s just say every other day to be safe.

- If a character’s s/o is on a team, they can’t just come and sit in on practices! We often have very little time to get a lot of things done, so visitors are very much unappreciated!

- Furthermore, if the cheerleader in question is having trouble getting a certain skill right, may it be tumbling, stunting, jumps, or otherwise, you can bet they won’t ask their friend or s/o with less experience for help. That’s a surefire way for both parties to get hurt!

- Contrary to weirdly popular belief, we only wear our uniforms to school on game day. And even so, we try to coax our way out of doing that as much as possible!

- You think high school cheerleading uniforms are all cute and flattering??? Pfft- honey you’re in for a polyester surprise. Depending on the dress code, our uniforms can be an ill-fitting, hand-me-down nightmare. Look up “high school cheerleading uniforms” and let me know that you see. 😂

- Our dress code for competition day and game days are weirdly specific. No jewelry, hair out of face (in one high ponytail if possible), no nail polish, shoes made specifically for cheerleading, and no-show socks if any.

- We don’t just ✨magically✨ memorize every cheer for game days! We dedicate whole practices for learning that shit. In most situations, there’s a freaking list.

- Just like every other sports program, our grades need to be up to par in order to participate. Can’t have academically stunted bitches on the team!

- Since most teams have a reputation to uphold, cliquey, catty, or all-around unacceptable behavior won’t always be tolerated by captains or coaches. We’d like to be respected, and bad apples hardly help that effort.

- Like all groups, dynamics are different between teams. Especially when the number of members vary!

- Every cheerleader you meet has at least one scar they got from a skill gone awry. (I, for one, have a series of small scrapes on my collarbone from basing an unbalanced flyer)

- It’s rare that a cheerleader goes their whole career without having to use a brace or wrapping for certain danger areas.

- Cheerleaders are often given honors in school for a reason! We have a season stretching over fall and winter, so our grades have to be good for that long. Many of us are in the school’s public eye, so we try to give as good an example as possible through leadership.

- Practices are usually done in a ratty-ass t-shirt and some spandex shorts. Ain’t nothing prissy about it 😂

- Ask any cheerleader on the clock at a football or basketball game, and we’ll tell you. None of us want to be there (even if our s/o is playing most of the time). We’re just exceptional actors.

- Training and conditioning during practice is absolute hell. (Especially if we have a tough coach)

- In order to do the more dangerous stuff, we have to pull out a certain number of mats (about 42 feet long and 6 feet wide). The number owned will vary per school, but it’s still difficult to get them out and put them back.

- The ideal number of members on a small team I’ve seen is around fourteen members. Enough for three stunt groups and two fill-ins.

- Competitions aren’t like regular games. They are few and far between during the season, and teams do not get a second chance. (If asked, I may make a separate post for how competitions are conducted)

- Ask anyone, and you’ll know that most cheerleaders don’t do what we do for clout, to be desired, or to stroke some superiority complex. We genuinely love this sport despite the physical hell and blatant disrespect from others it gets us.

Terms To Look Up

1. Stunting

- Primary/Secondary Base

- Backspot

- Flyer

- Frontspot

- Thigh Stand

- Half/Prep

- Extension/Full

- Cupie

- Liberty

- Tick Tock

- Shoulder Stand

- Cradle

- Basket Toss

- Straight Ride

2. Tumbling

- Aerial

- Back Handspring

- Back/Front Walkover

- Backbend

- Cartwheel

- Round-off

- Back/Front Tuck

- Layout

- Full

- Many other terms I’m forgetting :D

3. Jumps

- Starfish

- Toe-touch

- Tuck

- Left/Right Hurdler

- Pike

- Herkie

4. Motions

- High-V

- Low-V

- T

- Broken T

- Touchdown

- Candlesticks

- Daggers

- Clasp

- Clean

- Left/Right Punch

- L

- Left/Right K

Feel free to add if necessary! And correct me if I’ve gotten anything wrong. My experience is still limited to one particular state. I’ll shut up now!

[middleearthpixie]

Something in the Night ~ Chapter Seven

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a seriously wounded Thorin Oakenshield returns to Erebor to recuperate and eventually ascend the throne as king. With the deaths of Azog the Defiler and his son, Bolg, Thorin no longer has to worry about the bounty the Defiler placed on his head and can instead concentrate on restoring Erebor to its former glory. 

Nina Carren of Esgaroth has one goal—to make Thorin Oakenshield pay for unleashing Smaug the dragon unto her home—where he destroyed the town and killed her family. The Defiler might be gone, but his bounty remains very much in place, and she fully intends to collect on it. 

Finally, the opportunity shows itself for her to do just that, only to have it go horribly awry. Wounded and now at his mercy, neither Nina nor Thorin stopped to think what might happen, should things not go quite according to plan…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Nina Carren

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @legolasbadass @lathalea @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

By nightfall, they’d set up camp at the base of the mountains, nestled among the rocks, on a bit of a rise so any trouble would be seen before it became a problem. Thorin sat back against a smooth slab of stone, staring off into the distance. It was most likely his imagination, but he thought the lights that shone as pinpricks on the horizon might be the lights of Rivendell. It was hard to know for certain, as the Southeast Passage twisted and turned, rose and fell, until if it wasn't for the sun’s dependability, he would have no clue as to where exactly they were.

A small fire crackled softly, taking the chill from the night air. They’d had a simple supper of hunter’s stew that the Rivendell kitchens had sent with them and now Dwalin dozed in his bedroll across from where Thorin sat. 

Nina sank onto the slab beside him and nodded toward the sleeping Dwalin. “Your friend does not like me.”

“He is gruff, is all.”

“Gruff?” She shook her head and he didn't miss the hint of a grin pulling at her lips. “Gruff is not what I would call it. I’m surprised he didn't jump up and lunge at me the moment I sat here.”

“He is my second, and watching over me is part of his job.” Thorin shrugged, looking down at the scraggly tree branch he had been in process of stripping. Bark curled away from it, revealing the soft green shade of wood that had broken from its tree only recently. “He sees himself as my keeper as a result.”

“I have to admit,” she met his gaze directly, “I should think a king would travel with more security.”

“I probably should,” he nodded, “but to be honest, sometimes, it is suffocating, always being under someone’s watchful eye.”

“True. But you’re their leader.”

He peeled off another strip of bark, which curled as it hit the dirt at his feet. “For what it’s worth, yes. But there are times if I wonder—”

She waited a moment, her eyes glittering like emeralds in the firelight, and when he just stared down at the stick, she said, “You wonder what?”

“It is of no matter,” he told her, tossing the stick to the ground before getting to his feet. It wouldn’t do to confide in this woman. She might have saved his life, but he knew nothing about her, nothing he could verify anyway, and although gruff was Dwalin’s baseline, even he normally thawed much more quickly than this. So, he would do well to follow Dwalin’s lead and eye Nina with at least a little suspicion and distrust. 

With that, he climbed back down from the rocks, waiting for her to call out to him and ask him where he was going. 

But she didn’t. Good. He hardly felt like talking any longer. Instead, he move down away from the rocks, toward a gentle slope where hearty pine trees refused to cry quarter. A hint of pine hung in the air, and with it, a hint of smoke.

He hated the smell of smoke. It brought rushing back memories he’d rather let rot in the deepest, dankest recesses of his mind. Even fire bothered him to a certain degree, although the fire crackling softly back where Dwalin slept was not about to consume them or the mountains or anything other than the sticks, brush, and leaves that made up its fuel. But, he didn't like to sit too close to the flames, and it didn't take much for even the heat to irritate him, before it gave him the urge to stand and move as far away as he could from it. 

But that wasn’t all that troubled him. As he moved closer to the line of conifers, he felt Nina’s eyes boring into his back, just between his shoulder blades. It wasn't the first time since they’d left Rivendell he’d had the feeling she watched him. And not only watched him, but studied him. 

Then there was that feeling he had seen her somewhere before. Each time he glanced over at her, the feeling grew stronger. Trouble was, he couldn’t figure out where he might have seen her. She was no dwarf, nor was she an elf. 

She was of Man.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Thorin stared off into the darkness, where his eyes tried to fool him into thinking the trees were orcs, or goblins, or any of the friends and family he’d lost over time. The gentle breeze that swept through the pine needles whispered softly in their voices, reminding him that no matter what, they were always with him. 

As peaceful as that light breeze was, as calming as the star-spangled night sky above him might be, his mind simply would not let him savor tranquility of any sort. Nina Carren was of Man. And she might claim to be from a village ‘west of Bree,’ but he had the feeling she was not telling them the whole truth. 

She did not have the wary look the people of Bree and their ilk did. She kept to herself, from what he’d seen the brief time they were in Rivendell, but she did not seem to favor the shadows or hug walls as she moved through the corridors. She did not have the careworn look that came from a hard scrabble life that the Men of that part of Middle Earth all seemed to share. 

The breeze picked up, carrying the hoot of a lone owl that reverberated about them. Where could he have seen her before? She certainly couldn't be from Dale. Although there were people living in Dale now, they were mostly people from Esgaroth and—

Esgaroth.

She could be from the town on the Long Lake. It had been fully populated when he and the Company arrived, thanks to Bard the Bowman, who was currently the master of Dale whilst Esgaroth was rebuilt. 

But why would a woman of Esgaroth be all the way out in these parts? After Esgaroth’s destruction at the mouth of Smaug, those who survived settled in Dale, rebuilding it into the thriving city it once was as well.

Still… 

“Is something there?”

He hadn’t heard Nina come up behind him, but he managed to keep from jumping at the unexpected sound of her husky voice. “No,” he shook his head, “nothing I can see.”

“So why do you stare?”

“I’m not staring.” He glanced down at her. “I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing you need worry about.” 

“Who said I was worried? I simply do not like being caught off-guard.”

“Then you have no need to worry. As I said, I’m merely thinking and by that, I mean letting my mind wander a bit.”

“You don’t seem the sort to engage in such things.”

“I don't seem the sort… No, I don’t suppose I do. But, just as anyone else needs a bit of respite, I am no different.”

“Take care,” she told him, her voice low but stern, “it can be dangerous to let your mind wander too far.”

“I’ll try to keep it in mind. So, tell me,” he said, turning his gaze back to the woods once more, “how did you come to be in that clearing at that particular time?”

“The same way you did, I supposed,” she told him without hesitation. “I was traveling.”

“To where, though? For I know it was not Rivendell.”

“Are you so certain?” Her voice was mild. “I was, in fact, making my way there. In search of work.”

“Work?” Now he turned to her. “What sort of work?”

“I take whatever I might find,” she replied with a lazy shrug. “I have to eat, don’t I?”

“So you thought to find employment in Rivendell?”

“I had hoped I might, yes. The worst they could have done was sent me on my way.” Another lazy shrug. “Everyone knows Lord Elrond would not have me imprisoned for asking for work. He most likely would have offered me lodging for the night and sent me on my way the next morning.”

She had him there. Elrond would not necessarily be troubled by a small girl appearing on his doorstep in search of work. He was no closer to figuring out where he might recognize her from and she was far too clever to give up the answers. 

But perhaps another tact would work.

“What sort of work do you do?”

“Whatever I can find.” The owl went silent and the breeze grew cooler as the night’s chill crept into it. Nina’s curls danced on that breeze, tugging free from whatever pins she tucked into her hair. In the pale glow of the silvery moon, those curls glinted copper as they floated about her face, which was almost as pale as the moon itself.

“Such as?”

“Why do you care how I support myself?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. “It is no concern of yours.”

“I am but curious.” He fought to keep his expression neutral and his voice even. “It appears to be a sensitive subject for you and I wonder why, is all.”

“Because my life is none of your concern. I’ve a job here and—”

“A job?” Now he smiled. “Am I paying you? Because I recall no such bargain.”

“I offered and you accepted and that means—” Her cheeks grew red as she visibly swallowed. 

“That means what, Miss Nina?”

“You—well… I thought… that is…”

“You never mentioned payment and no price was agreed upon.” He folded his arms across his chest and gazed down at her. “Was it?”

“No,” she murmured with a slow shake of her head, “I don't suppose it was.”

“No, it was not.” He tapped his forefinger against his forearm. “So, tell me again why you were out there, for I do not believe for one moment you were seeking employment at Rivendell.”

Nina could only barely hear Thorin’s voice over the thunder of her pulse pounding through her ears. You fool! You never thought to discuss payment for accompanying him!

He certainly wouldn’t believe she offered her services out of the goodness of her heart, nor would he believe she often acted as a mercenary. No, she’d just made a serious mistake. 

Her mouth dry and her heart slamming against her ribs, she met his narrowed eyes. Her brain whirled with any scenario she could possibly come up with that he might believe. 

“Any time you wish to explain,” he broke into her thoughts, his voice low, “I am listening.”

“Very well… I did not think of discussing payment,” she began slowly, choosing her words carefully, “because I was hoping that once we made our way East, I might convince you to take me on in your city.”

“As what? You’ve not yet said what it is you do.”

“I do a bit of everything. I’ve been a serving girl. I’ve worked as a cook. I can even be a maid, if you need one. Or, as you’ve seen, I’m quite handy with a weapon.”

“So I could take you on as solder?”

She shrugged, a hint of relief swirling through her. “Absolutely.”

“And what training have you?”

“Training? Well… if you mean formal training, then—”

“Of course I mean formal training. What else would I mean?”

She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she said, “I have none. I am entirely self-taught, but you saw for yourself that I’ve skills with weapons and I fear neither man nor monster.”

“And you think I need a self-taught girl in my army?” A hint of amusement wove through his voice. “Why?”

That relief melted into hot embarrassment and her cheeks burned with it. “Very well. If you wish me to leave then, I will.”

As she moved to step around him, Thorin caught her by her upper arm. “Not so fast.”

She stared down at the massive hand clamped about her. “I beg your pardon, but let go of me.”

“You promised your services and I accepted them. And now you wish to tuck tail and run away?”

“You’re not paying me,” she countered evenly, “why should I remain here?”

“You gave your word.”

She held his stare. “And you expect me to be able to live off my word, do you? Dwarves have a funny way of viewing the world if that’s how you think I might survive.”

“I assure you,” his grip eased and he lowered his hand slowly from her, “I know just how the world works. Which is why I am curious as to why you—a girl who moves from place to place and survives on her wits and cunning, it seems—would not think to bargain for payment before trekking halfway across the world.”

She shrugged. “When you have nothing, you learn to do with nothing. And I thought, perhaps when we reached Erebor you would think I’d earned something for my trouble.”

For a moment, she thought he’d let the matter drop, or better still, would agree with her and insist that of course he would make such an offer. But, judging by the slight smile that curved his lips and the steeliness of his eyes, she had the feeling she had missed the mark. 

But to her surprise, all he said was, “And what would you consider sufficient?”

“I—that is, you—what I mean is…” Heat flooded her cheeks as she tried to control her stammering. Cleaning her throat, she clamped her lips together to quiet herself, and once she managed that, she drew in a deep breath, met his pale eyes once more, and finally said, “Whatever you think is sufficient.”

He just stared for a long moment and she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing once more. Still, even as her belly churned and her breath grew harder to catch once more, she held that stare   as if nothing troubled her. 

Finally, he broke the thickening silence, bobbing his head as he said, “A wise answer, indeed.”

“I am not greedy.”

“No,” he replied, “you don’t seem to be.”

Then he stepped back. “You should get some sleep.”

“I can take the first watch, if you’d rather rest some.” The words popped out on their own, but she didn't regret them. He did look tired, after all. Besides, she wasn't exactly a monster, either.

“I’m fine. Go and rest yourself. We still have a long road ahead of us.”

“I don't mind.”

“Nor do I. So, do as I say and get some sleep.” 

With that, he moved around her and made his way back up toward the rocks. She watched his retreating figure, and once she was certain he was out of earshot, she sighed. Her plan had seemed so simple when she set out to track him down. But now…

But now what? Nothing has changed, you fool. He unleashed the beast that killed your family. All of them. It is his fault and this is what he deserves.

She swallowed hard as she started back, pausing only when Dwalin’s snores reached her ears. He was sound asleep. There was no one else around them. She could sneak up on Thorin and be done with it and then disappear into the night.

With that, she curled her fingers about the worn leather grips of the blade at her hip and slipped the blade from its sheath without a sound. 

Her heart sped up as she drew nearer, as she caught sight of him sitting before the fire, the golden light dancing along his long tangle of silver-streaked jet black curls. 

He would never know what hit him.

[twobitmulder]

When did Storm Shadow Become a Villain?

There is a scene in GI Joe Resolute where Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow are having their obligatory Ninja Battle and (Spoilers I Guess) Storm Shadow reveals that he orchestrated his uncle, The Hard Master’s, death and that he fully meant to kill Snake Eyes as well, out of jealousy and because his uncle would not teach him the final secret to killing a man in seven steps, fearing that young Storm Shadow was too volatile and violent. Towards the end of the battle Storm Shadows wrist bands come off, revealing his Arashikage tattoo on one arm and a Cobra Sigil on the other.

This version of Storm Shadow (Voiced by “every Beagle Boy on Ducktales” Eric Bauza) stands out amongst his post-2000 incarnations as an unrepentant psychopath, but still falls in line with the prominent view of Storm Shadow as a villain--one of the main villains with a special hatred for his GI Joe counterpart.

This is the version I grew up with. GI Joe vs Cobra through Sigma 6 were the prominent Joe adaptations when I was the target demographic and all throughout Storm Shadow was a bad guy to varying degrees. 

I knew in the classic Hama stuff he eventually defected, but I was not prepared for just how much he’s a heroic character from the start. There’s no big sword dual with Snake Eyes, no Anakin and Obi Wan style “friend turned bitter enemy” dynamic. It’s made clear from jump that Tommy is undercover in Cobra and remains an honorable man in search of justice. He leaves Cobra quickly and is branded as a Joe in all his figures until 2000--when they started packing their characters in two-packs with one Joe and one Cobra. In all appearances, Storm Shadow is more a Joe than a Cobra. So what led to the the modern view of Storm Shadow as a bad guy, who, even when he gets his redemption, still has a mean streak and a cruel manner? How did a character in a toy driven franchise who had more toys as a hero than a villain end up as one of the franchise’s most consistent villains?

*(For simplicity’s sake, this is only going to cover film and television portrayals of the character).

*Spoilers for pretty much every GI Joe adaptation to follow.

The first portrayal of Storm Shadow as Cobra Commander’s loyal and competent hatchet man (one of the few) is not too much older than Hama’s original Marvel version. The Sunbow version of Storm Shadow (voiced by “guy you’ve heard in everything” Keone Young) remained a loyal cobra agent--with none of the Hama version’s depth. 

He had what you might call “standard cartoon Ninja honor” where he clearly had some kind of code of ethics, but was primarily an arrogant killer (as much as he could be in a cartoon) who fought primarily with Spirit and Quick Kick (voiced by wonderfully talented “guy you’ve seen in everything” Francois Chau) as Snake Eyes was largely shunted to the side in the cartoon. The echoes of Sunbow Storm Shadow can be seen in pretty much every non-comic adaptation that followed.

Skipping right over the Dic continuation of the Sunbow cartoon because Storm Shadow actually is a Joe in that, as he was in the comics and figures of the time (and because I haven’t seen it) we come to the 2000′s era.

The Spy Troops and Valor vs. Venom DTV movies had a Storm Shadow (voiced by “guy who got his blood ripped out by Magneto in X2: X-Men United” Ty Olsson) who was essentially his Sunbow self with one major change. He actually had a history with Snake Eyes, and a bitter rivalry. The details are not gone into in either film (you get a little more in the figure file cards and mini-comics of the era) but Storm Shadow accuses Snake Eyes of betraying the Arashikage. The implication being that either Storm Shadow blames Snake Eyes for some crime or another or that there was a schism in clan. 

The File cards of the time movie go from acknowledging Storm Shadow’s time as a Joe, and claiming he’s working with Cobra again for unknown reasons, to establishing their own canon that Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow were once best friends and “Sword Brothers” before Storm Shadow fell to the dark side and joined Cobra. Though Storm Shadow’s file card does end with the ominous implication that he’s got his own agenda in working with Cobra (just like his Hama incarnation) the DTV films imply that he’s a Cobra loyalist in addition to his feud with Snake Eyes.

Spy Troops and Valor vs. Venom lead in a semi-canonical way to GI Joe Sigma 6 where Storm Shadow (voiced by “guy whose only other role I recognize is pulling double duty as Zeke Stane and Living Laser in the Iron Man 3 videogame” Tom Wayland) more or less continues the previous two iterations’ version of Storm Shadow. He once again accuses Snake Eyes of some great betrayal that broke their friendship. The GI Joe website at the time includes the detail that Storm Shadow was infiltrating Cobra when he was brainwashed into becoming a loyal Cobra agent. It’s another concession, like his 2001 file card, to Hama’s heroic double agent, while still portraying him in line with Sunbow’s villainous henchman. 

GI Joe Resolute comes next, where we see a departure from any pretense of Storm Shadow being a good guy. Resolute, in many ways, comes off as a gritty direct continuation of the Sunbow series, and it takes Sunbow’s villainous Storm Shadow and strips him of even the token bits of honor and humanity he had. It also, as near as I can tell, begins the trend of Storm Shadow outright resenting Snake Eyes, rather than being his one time friend.

As an irrelevant aside, I have my problems with Resolute but I do love everyone’s character designs and Eric Bauza does a fantastic job as one fourth of the cast. His Sean Connery impression for Destro is particularly inspired.

This brings us to the big ones. GI Joe: RIse of Cobra and GI Joe: Retaliation where Storm Shadow is brought to the big screen by Lee Byung-Hun (who I don’t have a snarky/informative aside for because shamefully despite how prolific he is I’ve only seen him in these movies and The Magnificent 7 remake) and as a child by Brandon Soo Hoo (he’s also been in a lot of stuff, but I particularly liked his turn as Beast Boy in the animated New 52 DC movies).

Lee’s Storm Shadow in the first film falls in line with his portrayals up to this point, probably skewing most closely towards Sunbow. He has a code of ethics (he doesn’t kill women apparently) but he’s still a bad guy and he seems to quite like it. Lee brings a charm to the character that had not really existed up until that point. He also spends a lot of time maskless (and it’s hard to blame the production team for that one, he’s a very handsome dude) which was a shock for anyone who grew up with the 2001 era storm shadow where the thought of him without a mask was so insane that it was relegated to a mail in figure (As a kid I seriously thought he had some Mandalorian style code of not removing it)

His origin in this version takes bits of Hama and bits of Resolute (or Resolute took from this, Resolute came out first but this might have been in development). It is, as far as I can tell, the first version to have Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes train together as children and it portrays Storm Shadow, even as a child, as an arrogant and jealous person.

Now, at least in my opinion, it’s fairly obvious that the first movie fully intended Storm Shadow to be a baddie, full stop. There’s a little wiggle room given that we never see him stab The Hard Master in the flashback (the Hard Master in this version is Storm Shadow’s father rather than his uncle) but the way he taunts Snake Eyes about it during their final confrontation makes a pretty compelling case for his having committed patricide.

The sequel would bring back elements of the Hama backstory. Zartan killed The Hard Master and Storm Shadow had to infiltrate Cobra to discover that. Given Cobra Commander and Storm Shadow are of roughly the same age (Storm Shadow being a bit older I think) and this event occurred when they were both children it’s unclear on who’s orders Zartan did this but we do know it was done to turn the already volatile young man into the perfect angry ninja assassin (given this canon is pretty much over we’ll probably never know for sure, but my guess based on the IDW movie universe comics is that Zartan either did it at the behest of the Red Ninja Clan or just to have a tiny assassin of his own, probably the former since they seem to regard each other as unpleasant colleagues who sometimes work together).

What I particularly like about this version is that, because the first movie portrayed him as this charmingly sadistic Bond Villain henchman, even after he switches sides in the sequel he’s still kind of a belligerent dick. It’s a fun piece of characterization that even once he’s cleared his name, avenged his father, and made his peace with his family, it doesn’t change the fundamental fact that he’s not a very nice person.

This is something that would persist into the next (and for the moment last, but more on that later) onscreen version of Storm Shadow.

GI Joe Renegades (the best GI Joe Cartoon, fight me) saw Storm Shadow (voiced by “holy crap this guy originated the role of Saw Gerrera in Clone Wars” Andrew Kishino) as the leader of the Arashikage Clan (explicitly a crime syndicate, harkening back to implications in Hama’s version) who operates independent of Cobra except very briefly and only to fulfill his own ends (again bringing him closer to Hama’s version than any of his predecessors). Falling in line with the implications of the movie and Resolute, he and Snake Eyes were uneasy classmates more than friends and trained together as teenagers. An attempt to kill Snake Eyes went awry and resulted in the death of the Hard Master (who again, seemed to favor Snake Eyes over his own nephew). Storm Shadow believes Snake Eyes to have killed The Hard Master(somehow failing to connect the dots given his own murder plan failed the same night Snake Eyes allegedly murdered his uncle--or hell he’s probably just in denial until the truth slaps him in the face). 

Also, irrelevant aside number 2, in contrast with Resolute I really don’t like this character design. Renegades had pretty good character design all around, neatly bringing together various versions in a way that felt coherent but I don’t like the little tufts of hair sticking out of the mask or the way it kinda hangs in front of his mouth. Is he hiding his face or not? It seems like he’s not so much wearing a mask as a bandana and an oversized turtleneck.

This version neatly ties together the “Snake Eyes betrayed us” of the early 2000′s, the “arrogant unfavorite” of the mid 2000s and the “out for justice assassin” of Hama’s run. He is, again, an arrogant prick from the start, but his genuine shame and resolve to abandon his quest for vengeance and his extremely short partnership with Cobra make his eventual redemption (or the start of what you assume would have been a longer redemption arc had the series continued) more believable than the live action movies--if a mite less fun.

And that’s where it ends, at least until the much delayed Snake Eyes live action movie is finally released, where Storm Shadow is set to be played by “guy from the best episode of American Gods Season 2″ Andrew Koji. I quite like the look of the cast of this movie, and I’m excited to see what Koji brings to the role. Will Storm Shadow be arrogant, murderous, honorable, charming, brooding, misunderstood, cruel, vengeful...some impossible combination of all of the above? We’ll have to wait and see.

*Including the various alternate comic book versions probably would have painted a more complete picture, but I’ve only read Hama’s run and the IDW reboot (where Storm Shadow is kind of a non-entity), besides this was more about tracing Storm Shadow through the adaptations I watched as a kid.

*None of the adaptations seem to go with Hama’s original detail that Storm Shadow and Jinx were from Northern California. On the one hand I see why you transplant them to Japan with the rest of their family (it’s a globetrotting element and makes the cast more cosmopolitan) but I always liked the idea of that they were children of immigrants.

*Adaptations have been touch and go about casting Japanese actors in the role but I was impressed to find out that Sunbow cast Japanese Americans as both Storm Shadow and Jinx, making them probably the most faithful casting in relation to their original backstories.

*Apologies for my complete inability to get screenshots of roughly the same size or resolution.

[justasimplesinner]

Can I ask for something fluffy? Bane and Kill Croc are huge guys, clothes must be a pain n a half to find . After a job gone bad they vent to their S/O about how utterly thrashed their clothes are and how hard it is to find new ones. The guys forget about bc well it's nothing new to them but the S/O doesn't. They take it to heart and learn how to make clothes, on the down low ofc. Like a month after the S/O shows up with a large box filled with custom outfits. Any ideas how this play out?

Reader learning how to make clothes for Bane hcs:

he mentioned that problem surprisingly often - but alas, it happened surprisingly often. it was hard to get clothes that were made out of a material stretchy and durable enough that it'd not only withstand the sudden body growth from venom but also constant fighting. if they don't rip just from him moving around, they certainly will whenever plans go awry and Batman shows up. he doesn't expect his clothes to last through all that like some kind of armor, but he'd like to at least be able to move around and not have to buy a pair of pants on a daily basis

and so, you take the matters into your own hands - research, acquiring proper materials and learning how to sew while also keeping it a secret from Bane takes it's time, but you're determined to pull through with this. you'll need to ask him for his measurements though, so it was necessary to throw in a little lie here and there, but nothing to break his trust

it was a very long and tiring process, but after a good month, you're ready to present him with some pants ranging from sweats to jeans, long- and shortsleeved shirts, sportswear, a few hoodies and, most importantly, nice luchadore costumes for whenever he's out causing havoc

he's really surprised when you gift it all to him. even moreso once you tell him you made that for him. you learned to sew and took the time to make clothes for him because he told you how infuriating it all was and you wanted to help him with his problems. he's taken aback at how much you sacrificed and how you managed to hide it all from him. he's almost tempted to tell you that if you told him in the beginning, he'd help you and pay for everything so you wouldn't have to spend money on him, but is too touched to chastise you in any way

he's really thankful for what you've done for him. he even offers to pay you for it all and probably for more in the future, but you just ask him to supply you with materials and not to worry about the rest. the smile that graces his lips is unlike any other, that fondness in his eyes practically suffocating as he offers you the most sincere 'thank you' you've ever heard

if you need help, he's always there or he can leave a few of his men at your disposal. but he also makes sure you don't overwork yourself just for him - after all, managing so much in barely over a month is not only impressive but also concerning, and doesn't want to burden you so much

Reader learning how to make clothes for Croc hcs:

oh this boy has big problems when it comes to clothes - first of all, he can't just wander into any store/tailor shop to buy something, which is a huge issue. secondly, some of his scales are sharp - like on the outline of his spine, for example - and even if there were clothes big enough to fit him, he'd rip them before he even properly put them on. and he lives in the sewers, so he'd ruin everything anyway

listen, Croc doesn't complain that often - he usually seethes/suffers in silence, but he's brought this issue up once or twice to you. because the last pairs of pants, that are in a tragic condition anyway, that he has in his possession are slowly getting too fatigued to be worn. and he doesn't want to run around naked. he asks you if you know any shops where he could find clothes in his size, he'd sneak in and steal them if he had to, but he really needs at least one new pair of trousers

spoiler alert, you don't. so, you decide you will make him clothes big enough to fit him  that won't fall apart the second he puts them on. you gather some nice and durable materials, even the thermoactive one that's used to make most sportswear (totally not because you want to ogle his chest in those tight-fitting t-shirts), get his measurements under the excuse of looking around some shops to see if they have anything to fit him, and get to work. it's an exhausting process - learning how to sew and spending most of your days working on the sewing machine to put something together, but it's worth it

he's shocked at the surprise once you present him with a new set of clothes, ranging from t-shirts to pants, casual clothes to sportswear. he just... cannot comprehend why would you do that for him? you learned how to sew just so he could have nice clothes? you sacrificed a whole month just to help him and make him happy this way? he's really... wow

he's so scared he'll ruin the clothes you made for him too, he doesn't want to make all your hard work go to waste. he doesn't want you to hate him or think him ungrateful. you'll have to assure him that if the need comes, you will make more clothes and if the material doesn't withstand, you will get your hands on a better one. and that you'll collect his laundry every week so the clothes could be clean, and no, it doesn't matter that they'll get dirty again, Waylon, that's what cleaning is for-

he's so fucking grateful, like you don't even realize. nothing could express how thankful he is that he has you. not his words of gratitude, not a multitude of 'i love yous', not the way he practically curled around you in a ball when he hugged you tight. if there's anything he can do to recompensate, he will. if there's any way he can help, he will. he doesn't want to just sit there and soak in your kindness, he wants to do something to deserve it (despite the fact that, in your eyes, he deserves it more than anyone on this entire goddamn planet)

[mldrgrl]

Prompt: already in a relationship, mulder is still suprise to find a naked scully walking around in the apartment

The Possibilities are Endless

By: mldrgrl Rated: PG-13 Maybe not quite what Anon ordered, but close to it.

They’d had so little time together in the beginning.  From friends to lovers overnight and suddenly he was gone and back and gone again.  And then they were fugitives, living in shadows under assumed names, trying to re-learn what it was like to be together when in reality, they’d never really gotten that chance in the first place.  Neither could relax or feel very comfortable in cheap motel rooms and always looking over their shoulders for signs of trouble.

When they finally felt safe enough, they settled in a little isolated house in the middle of Virginia that Mulder had owned for years, but couldn’t be traced to either of them.  At The Gunmen’s urging, it had been purchased as a safety net in case things were to ever go awry.  He’d stayed there, briefly, after being forced to flee DC, but quickly moved on to New Mexico where he’d be better equipped to continue his quest.  

Still, it took months for them to start to feel secure again.  They’d spent weeks inside with curtains drawn and shutters closed, alert to even the quietest noise.  Summer came and windows needed to be opened.  They needed to risk spending time outside to do repairs to the roof or to the porch.  Scully had planted a garden that needed weeding and tending to.  After awhile, they settled into their new normal.

Scully had stopped coloring her hair when they began living as fugitives.  Actually, she’d initially dyed it an insignificant shade of brown that was sure not to attract attention, but as that faded, she allowed the natural strawberry blonde to return.  Her hair grew longer and softer and wavy.  In the whole time they’d worked together, Mulder had never realized how much effort she put into straightening and maintaining that hair until she stopped.  She’d even apologized to him once for how unkempt it looked and he shook his head so fiercely he thought it might fall off his shoulders.  He liked it wild and untamed, free-flowing and fluffy.  Definitely not something to apologize for.

Getting comfortable led to another development that Mulder was fully on board with, but tried to keep his cool about.  Scully had begun to walk around naked.  The first time he saw it happen with his own two eyes, he’d just come inside from fixing a step on the porch.  Sweaty and dirt-caked, he’d shed his t-shirt as he bounded up the stairs and he was suddenly caught like a deer-in-the-headlights at the sight of Scully, clearly just out of the shower with her hair up in a towel-turban, stark naked and rifling through the dresser drawers.

It shouldn’t have been so unusual, but Scully had always confined her nudity to the bed and the bathroom.  Whenever she left the shower, her robe went on.  Whenever she left the bed, some form of whatever she (or he) had been wearing before she got naked, got picked up and slipped on almost immediately.  He said nothing about it, afraid that calling attention to such a momentous occasion would make her self-conscious.  He’d simply thrown his t-shirt into the hamper, shucked his jeans in the bathroom, and taken a long, cold shower.

It happened again the following week when Mulder had just returned from the hardware store.  He’d needed more boards and Scully had wanted some particular seeds for her garden.  He’d come in, called her name to let her know he was back, and when he found her, she was in the bedroom, lying prone under the ceiling fan without a stitch of clothing on, rubbing ice onto her neck and chest.  

“Did you get the seeds?” she’d asked

“Uh,” he answered.  They’d been talking recently about installing an air conditioner in the upstairs window, but he suddenly found himself both completely unmotivated to do so and cursing the fact that it was too damn hot to do much more than watch her cool herself down and try not to salivate.

The third time it happened, he nearly expired on the spot.  It was a Sunday, he was at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.  Scully came downstairs with a mountain of bedsheets and it wasn’t until she passed by and he happened to take a glance up that he caught her tail end, literally.

“Scuh…”  He coughed, sputtering his coffee across the newspaper and nearly spilling the cup in his lap.

“I’m putting the flannel sheets on,” she called.  

He had to beat his chest for a minute to catch his breath and then he got up from the table to follow Scully into the laundry room and make sure his eyes were not deceiving him.  Lo and behold, there she was, loading sheets into the washing machine in her birthday suit like it was completely routine.

“Are you aware that you are absolutely, 100% stark naked right now?” he asked.

“Grab the detergent for me?”

He grabbed the first bottle he found, not sure if it was detergent or not because he’d lost the ability to read the minute her bare butt sauntered across the kitchen.  

“This is the fabric softener,” she said.

“Oh.”

Scully shook her head and stood on her toes to put the fabric softener back in its place and grab the bottle of detergent.  The side of her breast brushed his arm as she reached and jiggled enticingly as she unscrewed the cap.

“Scully…”  Mulder felt weak in the knees and faint.

“We should think about getting the down comforter out of the attic soon.”

“Scully…”  Mulder put a stop to her setting the machine and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  He pushed his hips into hers, letting her feel just how weak he was for her.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, Scully, but you’re naked.”

“So?  Mulder, you’ve seen me naked nearly every day for two years.”

“I’ve never seen you naked in the kitchen.  Or the laundry room.  This is like brand new, unexplored nudity.”

She chuckled quietly and playfully pushed her rear end back into his hips.  He groaned and pawed at her thighs.  Somehow, she still managed to finish setting the washer and it clicked on.  The water gushed loudly into the barrel as he took her hands and pressed them down onto the top of the lightly vibrating surface of the machine.

Before the first rinse, he had her perched on the edge of the machine, panting and writhing and gripping the sides for dear life with his head buried between her legs.  When she was done, she pulled him up by his hair to kiss the taste of herself off his lips.  He was rewarded for a job well done when she slipped off the washer and bent over the top, feet splayed wide and hips swaying at the ready.  He reached his own climax during the spin cycle, which he considered quite a feat considering how up and at ‘em he’d been before he even made it to the laundry room.

“Jesus, Mulder,” Scully said, struggling to raise up onto her elbows with Mulder still draped over her back.

“Just Mulder is fine.”  He pushed her hair out of the way to kiss her shoulder.  “Can we add dishwashing to the list of nude chores to try?  Naked cooking is probably too dangerous.  How about naked dusting?”

“There is no list of nude chores.”  She wiggled her shoulders to signal to him to let her up and let her turn and so he did.

“Well, there should be.  Naked vacuuming.  That’s a good one.”

“Why don’t we just become nudists and just make everything a naked chore?”

“That would mean outdoor nudity.”  Mulder closed his eyes and smiled and Scully pinched his chin.  He blindly waved her away.  “Shh, I’m envisioning playing naked badminton.”

“I’m going to go clean up.”  Scully ducked out of his arms and he turned to stumble after her without opening his eyes.

“Naked basketball, Scully.  Or kayaking.  The possibilities are endless!”

The End

[septiembrre]

30 for the kiss prompts!!!!

Prompt: Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

@sothischickshe, I made a concerted effort to keep this silly and short. And I gave myself frown lines as I watched it grow longer and longer and… angsty. D: 

Featuring:

A magical reappearance of Beth’s furniture

A broken air conditioner

A heatwave

Lots of summer clothing

Sweat (but like the typical annoying kind. This is not a euphemism for sex)

Beth and her anxiety

Rio, a certified Goth™

A relationship not yet ended

Pain

And a Mick cameo, of course!

On AO3, too!

---------

I’VE GOT TO LOSE MY COOL

Beth’s first mistake was not calling the HVAC technician first thing in the morning. She had called on the way out the door, left a voicemail. 

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Wednesdays were usually slow. She would be able to sneak away at almost any point to take a call back. In the message she left, Beth made sure to mention that her only conflict was at three (the weekly drop of bills from Mick). Otherwise, there was plenty of time to schedule the service visit with perfect timing for the impending heatwave. 

But, of course, her life was no longer neat.   

On this random mid-day shift, there had been a flurry of customers at the store -- multiple special orders for invitations, a desperate maid of honor running in for last minute bridal shower details. And, naturally, it was in this hubbub that the tech had returned her call. There was another subsequent round of phone tag. Beth left a new message. 

On her phone, there was also a text from Mick. He was held up -- and that never happened. The texts hinted at some mysterious, more-important errand for their boss and she was a little curious. He had quashed her follow-up questions (only a couple!), with a gruff, “I’ll get there when I get there.” 

And he indeed eventually arrived to Paper Porcupine -- a whole hour late and in a terrible mood. He barreled in the backdoor, sans his typical flannel and sans-leather jacket. Instead, he was in a t-shirt and sweaty as all get out in the late afternoon heat. Beth had stared at him aghast as her phone chimed with another call. It had been a perky soundtrack to Mick’s string of colorful swears when he realized he had left behind half the one-dollar bills needed for the next print run.

Well, at least that mess wasn’t on her. 

When Beth finally caught the technician on her drive home, she confirmed what Beth had begun to suspect in her gut: they were all booked up with service calls until next Monday. 

“It’s the heatwave, Mrs. Boland,” the tech explained over the car’s speaker phone. “Half of Detroit is calling in about faulty units. We can get you in first thing next week.” 

Beth had nodded unseen and despairing. She had the AC blasting in the car, but she was still sticky with sweat. It was going to be precisely eleven degrees hotter by tomorrow. Then, it would chart 105 the day after that.  

Good Lord. 

Her second mistake was not immediately driving to the store to purchase a pool.

This is how Beth finds herself in the middle of the brutal once-a-year Michigan heatwave, reflecting on how truly her life no longer plays out in the tidy, pre-ordained trajectories it used to. And some days this is thrilling but other days, today, it’s... 

Terrible. 

Beth tries to do what she can. 

She digs out her most breathable pair of exercise shorts, short short and purchased two children ago. She dons her comfiest, lift bra and throws on a frayed pink tank top. She no longer wore these articles of clothing in the presence of her husband (especially after that comment now etched into her soul about “a great ass and perfectly shaped boobs”) but kept them tucked into her dresser for such hellishly hot, solitary occasions such as today. 

She pulls her hair messily into a lofty bun leaving no opportunity for it to cling to her neck. She also temporarily appropriates three of the flagging household fans and angles all of them carefully at her, meticulously layering the currents. Finally, she sprawls on her bed, starfishing her limbs for maximum air-to-skin contact. 

All of it helps a little, but she’s still hot. Beth can’t fathom anything outside of her misery, wants to shed her skin. 

She momentarily considers taking her third cold shower of the day. 

Then, without realizing it is happening, Beth finds herself an hour deep into a frenzy of online shopping, precariously balancing her laptop so it doesn’t touch her skin. 

Her focus: sandals. 

Beth knows she shouldn’t go through with the purchase. Rationally, she can admit it is a feverish spiral, fixating on one fraction of why this week is awful. But, it is all she can think about: she does not have any appropriate footwear for this heat. 

How will she survive?

From there comes a whole whorl of scenarios. If she could get away with not leaving the house, she could stay barefoot, stick to the shadowy corners of her house, shower any hour of the day. In fact, this was (part of) the reason why she had chosen to stay home as Dean took the kids to the community pool a few blocks over. Her old pair of ratty flip flops had finally given out and the mid-morning heat already had Beth at her wit’s end. God, she just needed some quiet and some sense of distance from Dean. So, she suggested the idea, urged him to go and leave her in peace.

Perhaps, she could send him out for all the kids’ needs and assorted errands? 

...But, could he be trusted? 

Well, if Beth refused to leave the house, that meant she was also choosing not to go with the kids to the movies or the library, places with functioning air conditioners where she could cool off. And what else could they do tomorrow? Maybe she could dig out the old sprinkler from the garage… But, then she’d have to go into the garage, and the temperature in there-- 

Anxiously, Beth meanders the tabs on the DSW website and adds two new pairs of flip flops to her cart. One’s a little more casual, definitely good for pool-side and backyard time. The other pair is a little more dignified. They didn’t look like they would clack. 

Well, she doesn’t need two pairs...

She’ll narrow it down later. 

In the back of her mind, Beth can acknowledge she doesn’t really need to buy anything at all, and that these sandals will not make her current discomfort any more bearable. But, it doesn’t hurt to look. 

Oh, goodness -- what about when she has to go back to Paper Porcupine for her next shift? The thought of putting on any of her flats seems like too much to bear, claustrophobic as they were in the heat. Pumps were out of the question. Which brings her to her last job-appropriate footwear option -- her ankle boots. Weirdly, that seemed to be a fashion trend that was happening now, but nope, absolutely not. 

It is in this fever pitch, that Beth makes her third and perhaps most egregious mistake: when Rio knocks on the French doors, she lets him in. 

In her defense, she’s a little dazed. As mentioned before, the current state of Michigan is literally hell and Rio’s appearance… takes her by surprise. She was not expecting him to show up today with a duffle of the rest of the small bills. He hadn’t texted and to top it off, he is wearing... an outfit she has never seen before.

A sleeveless shirt.

A sleeveless shirt and joggers, fancy athletic ones that look a price point (or three) above the ones she usually buys for Dean. However, despite this new foray into athleisure-wear, Rio remains head to toe in his favorite color with black on black Chucks rounding out the look. 

What a goth, Beth thinks, shaking her head to herself. This outfit in over-100 degree heat? 

She feels hotter just looking at him.

Like Mick the other day, Rio is sans-jacket, sans-button-up, and sans-beanie and there’s just… miles and miles of uncovered brown, freshly sun-kissed skin. 

Maybe, it’s her deep-seated jealousy of people who can tan. All her skin is good for is glowing in the dark and flash burning at the slightest interest from the sun. And mind you, she’s currently safe inside her dim bedroom, but it’s the strangest thing...  She’s burning now as her eyes trace the smooth skin exposed at the base of his neck, burning as she follows along the neat, sharp line of his collarbone where she had bit--

Stop, Beth. Why did she still want-- 

Had he purposefully shown up with a work excuse on the hottest day of the year to pester her? Was this a latent extension of his punishment? Beth thought they were past this. 

But, you know what? Whatever. Let him try.

She’s cool. She might be sweaty as hell, and wanting to crawl out of her skin, but she is cool as a cucumber, cold as ice, profoundly unbothered. 

She’s so cool that she doesn’t say a word. 

Not to greet him, or remark upon the mistake with the drop or… his atypical clothing choice. 

She doesn’t comment either on the state of their business or ask after whatever it was he had assigned Mick to do this week and had seemingly gone awry. 

She doesn’t comment as his mouth drops open with surprise as he takes in her appearance, his eyes widening with something as intolerably warm as the air around them. The bag slips from his grip just inside her doorway.

Nor does she say anything when Rio follows her back to bed, tethered to her through a tenuous spell of heat (weather or otherwise). She’s cool, indifferent, breezy actually as she repositions herself in the crosshairs of the fans. If she pretends he doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have to share the breeze right? So she doesn’t pay much mind as Rio slips off his sneakers and settles next to her. Instead, she re-balances the laptop and resumes pursuing the online DSW store. 

She doesn’t say anything as he eventually shuffles closer, presumably to watch as she adds strappy sandals to her cart (or more probably to peek down her shirt). And god-- this stupid tank top. Maybe her boobs look better from over there in Rio-world, but over here she is sticky with underboob sweat and crossing her fingers that none of it shows through her bra. 

His shoulder leans against hers.

And she has every reason to push him away, but… his skin is cool and smooth and not the most intolerable part of this weekend. So, she lets him stay there. 

And she continues to ignore him, cool-like, or cool-aspiring.

Until he no longer lets her. 

Concentrated as she is on her shopping, she notes idly as Rio’s foot reaches out to nudge one of her fans to aim more directly at him.

Beth can’t help the snarl that comes out of her mouth, “Don’t.” 

He always brings out the worst in her.

There’s a low snicker. Her gaze drops down to take in Rio’s arm as it presses up fully against hers. His fingers reach over to pinch her thigh. 

“Damn, ma.” 

There’s that heat again, the one from inside. God, she hates him. 

Beth shuffles away, frowning at her screen. Rio shuffles too, sidling up next to her again. She adds another pair of sandals to her order and then considers her cart. 

“Elizabeth…” In the corner of her eye, she catches the movement of Rio shaking his head with reprove. “Think about where you live.”

Beth flails on the bed in a display that admittedly reminds her of her own children in a fussy mood and it only annoys her more. Her bedspread sticks to her arms, the backs of her legs, and the exposed sliver of her midriff where her top is creeping up. Beth shifts, trying to dislodge the cover from her skin, mindful to protect the laptop. It’s only happenstance that she manages not to shift a single inch of where the length of her arm touches Rio’s. 

As she tries to calm down, a brief vision comes to Beth -- an alternate universe where the laptop is safely tucked away and the HVAC blessedly functions. The Rio and Beth of this fantasy are them but also not… maybe she’ll call them Christopher and Elizabeth. That Beth -- Elizabeth -- is only mildly inconvenienced by the heat raging outside. She can rest her dampened forehead against the cool arch of his-- Christopher’s neck. She can lean in to press a weak kiss at his collar bone. In fact, she can kiss it anytime she wants, invited to touch him anywhere she like. In this dream, Elizabeth’s ministrations don’t have to be surer or bolder or cool -- because she has him. 

All the time. 

She can afford to be soft. 

In turn, Christopher nuzzles his face into her hair fondly, and that Elizabeth receives a soft kiss at the crown of her head. There’s an undercurrent of sex between them, the suggestion of it, but overall the scene is sluggish in the zenith of summer and content. Elizabeth can curl her body around his and let him hold her-- 

How silly. 

Beth shakes herself out of it and realizes that Rio has shifted on his side, watching her as she’s zoned out staring at the cart full of sandals for too long. His lips twitch and almost pull into a smile. Then, he quells them into mock seriousness. 

It feels too intimate, him with her on this bed, her bed, the bed. It feels like Before. 

God, why is he here anyway? If she was alone, she could peel off all her clothes and… take an ice bath probably. 

Not think of him at least. 

Not think about that wild, feverish idea of curling up, fitting her body into his and surrendering to the heat. Not think about how desperately and pettily she wants to pinch him back. She wants to kiss that stupid look off of his face or... Maybe she could purchase all six pairs of sandals and start browsing for pools on Cloud 9 just to spite him-- 

 “I am thinking about where I live and actually, it’s the middle of summer here--” Beth bites out. “--and it’s outrageously hot.”

“Just buy yourself a pair of sturdy white lady shoes. You mean to tell me you don’t already own some Birks?”

“Excuse me--” Beth splutters, incensed. She had considered them first but had been discouraged again by the price tag for a single pair.  “White people aren’t only ones who wear Birkenstocks.”

Without missing a beat, Rio volleys back, “Baby girl, what are you going to do with so many pairs of sandals in Michigan the rest of the year?” 

“Says you.”  

“Oh?” 

“You literally have a million pairs of shoes. Your closet is insane.”

It dawns on her, what she just said. 

Oh. 

Not good. 

It’s the fucking heat. At least, the discomfort can’t blotch her cheeks any more than they already are. 

She knows that if she looked at him now, she would see Rio doing something... obnoxious with his face. He’s probably smirking in that terrible, gloating, dumb, sexy way that he does, but too bad. 

Beth refuses to look at him.

She’s indifferent and unbothered. She’s cool. She’s the kind of Beth that would never ever even think about his closet or daydream about them folding clothes together or fucking on-- 

So, instead, she snaps her laptop close with a final click. The sandals were a half-brained idea anyway and that was a conclusion she already came to on her own. Thank you very much, boss. 

She starts to get up but then Rio’s hand reaches out to curl around her thigh, pinning her to the bed. He squeezes her leg gently, as he has the audacity to shush her. 

It’s enough impetus for Beth to rear her head back to meet his gaze again and level him with her most withering glare. 

And, what do you know? She was correct. He appears to be very entertained. 

This time she feels the heat surge on her face and knows without a doubt that it shows on top of the heat rash.  

“Yeah, so… are you ever gonna tell me what you were doin’ at my house?”

“No.” She snipes, prim. 

“No?”

“I wasn’t doing anything.” It's outright untruth.

Rio’s amused disbelief and her defensiveness meet in a standoff. Beth knows from experience he’ll try to wait her out and she gnashes her teeth. 

Then, there’s a twitch of movement at her thigh, the flex of fingers she realizes are still there and Beth registers the warm span of his hand a few inches above her knee. Her gaze darts down to look at where he’s touching her. He glances down, too. Together they watch as his thumb slowly strokes her skin. Then, again. 

They both observe as the muscles in her thighs just perceptively clench.

God, him and her, in this bed. 

His voice softens to that ridiculous mumble, both low and rich. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. You can tell me.” 

The tone raises her hackles -- as if she wasn’t already too familiar with this trap! She tries to affect nonchalance -- she’s cool -- and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Rio grins. It’s sharp like a knife and charming. She hates that he’s the most attractive person she’s ever met. “You liked my closet?” 

Then, an idea comes to her-- how she can best him at his own little game.

Beth curls on her side towards him. Her cleavage deepens and god, she can instantly feel more sweat bloom but she knows what he likes. The line of their bodies is parallel, only separated by an inch or two. They’re sharing the breeze from the fans now and wisps of her hair have gotten loose from her bun and are blowing into her face. Rio’s hand shifts to resettle and it drifts up to stroke her hair back behind her ear. Then it drops to curl at her waist. And you know -- nice move -- but she can do him one better.

“Yes,” Beth says simply. She brings her hands up to trace along the neck of his shirt, across his pecs, and the expanse of skin she hasn’t seen since that afternoon of Before. “I didn’t see this though.” 

Then, in a moment of haughty malice, her fingers find the notch of his clavicle. She watches his throat bob as he swallows hard and she counts the success. She ignores the tell-tale temptation to gift him more bruises, to kiss him… 

The thought occurs to her, distantly, slowly emerging through the fog of heat, that if she tugged the fabric to the side a bit, she’d find one of the scars she gave him. Her hands become clammy and they retreat. 

“You like it?” Rio’s voice comes out a smidge hoarse. But, perhaps only someone who knows him like her would notice. 

Beth shrugs a shoulder. 

His eyes are bright as he looks back at her. His gaze shifts crass, laden with the suggestion of sex, and there’s a tinge there that's not quite sour per se. But, it’s heavy with the particular weight of who they are now. His line of sight deliberately drops to her cleavage with old, salacious purpose. 

It’s not the way he looked at her that day, that one time (or two).  

Self-rebuffed, Beth tries not to think too much about how she hates that Rio caught her dressed like this. She itches to pull her top up to her neck or scramble off the bed to find something else to throw on. She itches to disappear entirely or to retreat into her bathroom (and see if this time he’ll follow her there too). 

Slowly, in performance, Rio moves the fingers at her waist and dips them under the edge of her tank top. He traces teasingly underneath along her sweaty skin. 

“I like this.” Rio says, biting his lower lip lewdly, tugging along the hem of her shirt. 

And Beth feels-- she feels--

Too hot. 

Too objectified. 

Her stomach drops and she wants to crawl out of her skin. This wasn’t, this isn’t-- This isn’t what it was. 

No matter who they are this minute, whatever mess continues to unfold, this isn’t what that day was.  

She won’t let him ruin it. 

“You know I did really like your closet. I liked your shoe racks--” she scrambles, trying to dangle a little of what he wants and to remind him. “Your pictures. Nice touch.” 

The comment serves its purpose. It makes him pause, sufficiently rebuked by all the ways that she knows him. 

Rio extricates his hand, pulls away from her skin, as she tries again to calm herself. She needs to be cool, cool, cool. 

But, it’s unbearable -- who they are now.  

She feels frazzled and depleted as she watches Rio roll onto his back. He looks up at her ceiling, not at her. “Why can’t you be honest with me for once?” He says it tiredly, without artifice. 

She can’t stand it. 

“You’re one to talk.”  

Beth watches as Rio is now the one gritting his teeth. 

“Y’know--” There’s a poignant, festering beat and then he says, “When I fucked you in this bed, I had wanted…” 

More. 

That want goes unsaid, suspended in the air around them with the heat. 

“But, you just wanted me to fuck you,” he finishes quietly, leveling her. 

Her stomach bottoms out newly pained and she wonders if that day, those two times, are already ruined for him. Certainly, she can understand if it’s because of the bullets. But, if he still has any doubt-- 

She makes a last-ditch attempt at levity. 

“You’d probably say this is really… basic bitch of me.” The phrase fits awkwardly, and the call back immediately has Rio’s attention. She knows in her race to pull something together, to make it better, something bearable, whatever she’s going to say is going to be too candid.

“Yeah?”

“But, the times that I’ve been the most… attracted to you--” Oh god, this isn’t coming out light and casual at all. Oh no. 

Rio shakes his head at her, “Don’t stop now, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Beth huffs. Then, she tries again. “One is definitely when you were bashing in that butt-ugly car.” 

Rio’s eyebrows raise comically high. 

“You know with the crowbar,” She gestures, swinging her hand gratuitously. He absolutely already knows what she’s talking about. 

“And two..”  Beth shuts her eyes and takes a steadying breath. She hopes for the best and tries not to rush the next bit. “--was when I saw your closet was color-coordinated.” 

She sneaks a glance at him, and her stomach twists again.

He has absolutely no business looking so fondly at her. 

She strives to clarify. “But, that was before.” 

“Not anymore?”

“No.” 

Rio nods, presumably in acceptance of her refusal. 

But, then he tugs her to him, across him. Beth settles on top of him, too hot, too sweaty. Her forehead comes to rest, pressed against the soft hollow of his neck.  

[downymoonbeams]

ooh your version of killer?

B A S I C S

full name: Vivienne

gender: Yes <3

sexuality: Yes <3 <3 <3

pronouns: any, but also has a fluid preference depending on the mood.

O T H E R S

family: The Skeletal Syndicate is close enough, they love their partners.

birthplace: None of your business <3 (Another Classic timeline gone awry)

job: Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy <3 (Assassin and stealth missions)

phobias: chronophobia (and the ticking of clocks is a trigger), claustrophobia, gerascophobia, hypnophobia, monophobia, pharmacophobia, trypanophobia.

guilty pleasures: [redacted]

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: chaotic neutral

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: extrovert. very much extrovert.

organized/disorganized: disorganized

close minded/open-minded: open-minded <3 probably not for you though <3

calm/anxious: anxious calm, obvs <3

disagreeable/agreeable: agreeable

cautious/reckless: reckless. never a thought in that head, mwah mwah <3 So, so cautious and calculated.

patient/impatient: impatient. patience is boring <3 Things should happen faster <3

outspoken/reserved: outspoken <3 reserved. speaks frequently, not openly.

leader/follower: depends <3 ... I am going to strangle her /j

empathetic/unemphatic: empathetic uwu

optimistic/pessimistic: optimistic :D

traditional/modern: modern, if that even applies in Acacia’s castle.

hard-working/easygoing: easygoing until there’s work assigned.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Vivienne/Lennan (if you’re asking for outside the Skeletal Synidcate. They have a deal.)

ot3: Vivienne/Cinders/Pyxis

brotp: Vivienne/Myo

notp: Vivienne/Syphtis

[litwitlady]

Pandemic (3/?)

Read the Board Game Verse on AO3.

‘You cooked Tuesday night. You didn’t need to cook again.’ Alex steps onto his patio, walking over to where Michael already has his grill heating up. ‘I could have picked up something on the way home.’

Michael shrugs and chomps at Alex playfully with a set of tongs. ‘I was in the mood for jalapeno burgers and no one makes good jalapeno burgers in this one horse town.’

‘How can I help?’

‘Go get rid of the uniform and teach me how to play the game while I watch over the food.’ He sets several corn cobs on the grill and shoos Alex towards the front door.

Alex disappears into his bedroom and sheds his heavy uniform as quickly as he can. He pulls on sweatpants, sneakers, and an old Cranberries t-shirt he’s pretty sure he stole from the Ortecho household at some point.

Walking to his window, he peeks through his blinds at Michael, appreciating the view without any fear of getting caught. There’s nothing special about the sight. Not really. Any other person on the planet might look out his window and see nothing more than an oil-stained cowboy hunched over a grill. But Alex sees almost twelve years of his life - the good, the bad, the best and worst moments.

Staring at Michael is like having his entire life flash before his eyes. Only this isn’t the moment right before his death. This is the moment right before he starts living again.

Grabbing the game, Alex heads back outside with a couple of beers. He hands one to Michael and sets his aside so he can retrieve the instructions from inside the box. ‘It’s been awhile since I played. Last time was with Liz and Maria way back before you two started dating.’

Michael drags his eyes to Alex, but Alex is frowning down at the instructions manual. He decides nothing was meant by the comment and returns his gaze to the grill. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’ It’s barely a mumble and Michael’s pretty sure Alex is only half paying attention.

‘Why’d you break up with Forrest?’ He flips the burgers and waits.

Alex glances up at him. ‘We talked about this already. I’ll tell you as soon as you tell me why you broke up with Maria. Fair is fair.’ His eyes fall back down to the instructions. ‘The general idea of this game is to stop four pandemics.’

‘Four? Seems excessive.’ He sips at his beer and settles a hip next to where Alex is sitting on top of his patio table. ‘Maria broke up with me because she thought there might be someone else who could make me happier.’

Alex drops the manual back into the box, game entirely forgotten. ‘Someone else like who?’

Michael makes a thoughtful humming noise in the back of his throat and shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Probably someone with a really weird board game obsession.’

‘No.’ Alex shakes his head hard. ‘That can’t be why she broke up with you. I’ll fix it.’ He’s already pulling up Maria’s number on his phone.

Michael snatches his phone out of his hand. ‘Stop, Alex. She’s not wrong.’

‘She is wrong, Michael. Maria is sunshine and rainbows. I’m broken dreams and stolen hope. You said so yourself - I’ve hurt you. She would never hurt you.’

Michael watches Alex’s chest start to heave and his eyes blink too rapidly. ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where did all this come from?’

‘The food’s going to burn. I’ll go get the buns.’ He slides carefully off the table and is gone before Michael can stop him, shutting the door with a finality that echoes through Michael’s chest.

He takes the burgers and the corn off the grill, setting them aside to cool. Picking up the game instructions, he pretends to read through them while staring anxiously at the door waiting for Alex to return. He waits a long time, but eventually, the door reopens and Alex steps back onto the patio with the buns in his hands. The tightness in Michael’s chest subsides.

They fix their plates silently and sit next to each other at the table. Michael waits until Alex takes the first bite to begin eating himself. ‘These are really good. Everything you cook is always really good.’ He half-smiles at Michael as he takes another bite. ‘Sorry for being weird.’

‘It’s okay. Want to maybe explain it to me better?’ Michael leans back in his chair and watches Alex thoughtfully.

His answer is quiet when it comes. ‘I can’t be Maria.’

‘Baby, I don’t need you to be Maria. I just need you to run a little less and talk a little more. That’s all.’ Michael reaches out to give his knee a gentle squeeze.

Alex nods softly. ‘You’re such a good man, Michael. You deserve to be with someone just as good. What if that’s not me?’

Michael honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. So he relies on his sarcasm to ease the tension. ‘Well, it’s a good thing we’re only friends then, huh?’ When Alex doesn’t smile, he hangs his head and sighs. ‘What I deserve is to be with the one human on this godforsaken planet that I love the way that I love you.’ He finishes his beer and pushes his plate aside. ‘Why did Forrest break up with you?’

‘Because I’m still in love with you and did a pisspoor job hiding it.’ Alex gulps at his beer. ‘We’re really bad at this friends thing. I have a feeling I’m going to keep saying that.’

Michael grins at him and motions towards the game. ‘Teach me how to play.’

They play past the sun going down and the stars blinking awake. Each and every play through they cure all four pandemics, and Michael enjoys the way Alex grows more and more animated with every perfectly strategized move. After their fourth win, Alex sits back in his chair and sighs happily. ‘I think that’s probably good enough for one night.’ He checks the clock on his phone’s display. ‘Oh shit, Guerin. Didn’t mean to keep you here until 3 am.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Letting you boss me around all night was the most fun I’ve had in awhile. What’s next week?’ He knocks his knee against Alex’s and raises an eyebrow in question.

‘Something simple. Maybe Operation?’ He smiles at Michael and takes one last, long pull of his beer. ‘Let ourselves be kids again. But with happier endings this time.’

Michael nods and stands, stretching his hands over his head and yawning loudly. ‘I’ve got an early morning tow. I’ll bring by coffee and donuts on my way back to the junkyard.’

Alex shakes his head as they walk slowly to Michael’s truck. ‘I’ve got a better idea. You take care of your tow. I’ll have coffee and an honest, heartfelt attempt at your favorite omelet waiting for you when you get done. As long as you promise not to laugh if it all goes horribly awry.’

‘I can live with that.’ He plants a kiss on Alex’s forehead and climbs into his truck. Alex watches him pull out onto the road and doesn’t turn away until his taillights are nothing but a distant blur.

He’s too wired to sleep so he sits back down at the patio table and wonders what it’ll be like when Michael stops leaving at the end of the night. And he doesn’t stop wondering until the sun warms the stars back to sleep.

Tags: @adiwriting

[shiggityontherocks]

Except from Love Is A Doing Word part 6, flashback to their first time, no spoilers, not edited. Pretty R/MA rated depending on how prudish you are.

“We have to talk,” he told her.

The Late Night Show flickered across the television in his room, and she was always curious as to what type of programs might attract his attention. Had overheard him speaking of a Super Bowl and it took her too long to figure out that this was a sports championship and not something to do with cooking, which made more sense as she had never figured him for the culinary type.

As he spoke to her, his words armed and heavy after a long week—a long few months, really—of horrible missions that had gone awry to the point where if it wasn’t for the quick action of one of them, one of the others would have surely lost their lives.

Blamed it on the notion of being overworked since Daniel had left first for Britain to read up on more medieval mythos, and then to Atlantis in order to fine tune his Ancient skills first asking her, and then telling her that he refused to take her along because he needed a constant break from her presence—something every woman wants to hear—and Sam’s departure to captain The Hammond, they’d been left one team member short.

There were talks of bringing back a fellow named Jonas, only they were having a hard time locating him—it was all for the best anyways. She stood out as it were, female, alien, tantalizing for any Tau’ri man to at least ask questions, but when the team was three quarters alien, then suddenly Cameron became the interesting one.

And hadn’t he been just that to her lately.

They were starting to bond more, mesh more, understand each other’s limitations both on and off missions. He was starting to tell her stories about being in high school, about what happened with that dreary woman he fawned over at the reunion.

He even let it slip that his mother had been asking about her, about what had happened between the two of them.

The truth was, nothing.

Up until that moment, wherein he was trying his best and politest to let her off without being too harming, admitting the attraction was there, but that he couldn’t act on it due to the nature of the job, how hard he’d worked, what he’d been through, what it meant to his family.

She’d heard plenty of let down lines—some fumbled that she was able to play through and some genuine—but none this nice, particularly from Daniel who treated her flirtations which grew smaller each day until his abrupt vanishing in the night in order to ensure she didn’t follow him, where he would usually disparage her character by some means.

Cameron tried to explain that he wanted to partake in the endeavors she was suggesting to him—“Boy, do I want it”—but that it was detrimental for both of them.

She understood but the words were creating tears in her eyes, because as much as she didn’t want a relationship—at the time she was happy being flirty and unbound—but she couldn’t qualify why the words harmed her.

Instead she threw caution to the wind—as she is want to do—and leaned in to stop those words of apology and remorse leaking from his lips like air from a balloon with her own.

She had to tiptoe to kiss him, she remembers that much because all subsequent kisses doled to her while standing, he usually ducks his head to meet her halfway. His lips were chapped, but sticky with the remnants of the beer he drinks, floating a bitter taste into her own mouth that should have deterred her but did anything but.

The sincere surprise of when he kissed her back is still a bit jarring. The way he opened his mouth and just took hers—she figured it would be the type to sit back and enjoy the ride--but knowing what she knows about him now, his stubbornness, the leadership, she doesn’t know why she didn’t see the swirling hands, the dueling of mouths coming.

Doesn’t know how long the interaction lasted—seconds, minutes, an hour—but knows she submitted because as often as her rolls in the bed were, she’s always up for a man who at least thinks he knows what he’s doing.

He ended up on top of her, his forearms helping to keep his weight off her as he fervently pulled the Sal’s t-shirt she wore to sleep over her head, flattening his hand over her stomach before hooking his fingers in the band of her pajama pants.

Doesn’t know if how quickly he was able to get her off is a testament to his skill or a show of her depravity and finally receiving what she wanted.

When he was done, he tasted like her—which is always a turn on—and despite the obvious tenting in his pants, he refused sex.

Well, not all sex obviously because there was stimulation and penetration just not—

“If we’re gonna do this, Princess—” he cupped a hand to her cheek and held her gaze like he hadn’t just elicited a moan and rush from her, like he was still trying to earn the prize when she was willing to give it up to him for free “—we can’t do this all at once.”

She pretended to understand, perhaps drawing out their interactions and refusing to have him inside her—well, one part of him in particular—would prolong the excitement in some way, would draw out the pleasure.

If she learned anything from her time as Qetesh, she knew that there was a very fine line between pleasure and pain, and not all pain had to be physical in nature.

However, as she agreed to his terms—which lasted less than two or three weeks—she nudged at him, took him in her hand through the friction of his boxers, and eventually was able to reciprocate the favor in tow.

As she bobbed over him, through the strain of his voice offering encouragements, through the tenseness of his muscles, and the smell of him invading her senses, he kept tucking her hair back and out of the way—not fisting it to keep her tethered, or as a lead of some kind, but tucking her bangs back behind her ear.

He still does this, even if her bangs are up.

When he came, he gave ample warning, released his hold on her so she could withdraw—something she only realized in the up coming weeks—and despite the flinching, his hand was never harsh on her whether it was on her shoulder, her neck, or regathering her hair.

After catching his breath—while she watched him bemused, as the red flush of exertion and ecstasy swept over his body—he kissed her, which was unwarranted—or so she thought—and unusual. Normally, the men she’d entertain wouldn’t deign to mingle their mouths with hers after where it had been which was a bit hypocritical.

But he kissed her just as hard and with just enough meaning.

And he never stopped.  

[anonomouslyabanana]

hey y’all, it’s been forever, but new chapter’s up! Next two will be coming soon, promise!

Juno can’t find Nureyev anywhere on the ship before breakfast, and by then, the rest of the crew has sat down together in the kitchen. Jet is buttering a slice of toast at the table while Rita breaks down the finer points of Turbo Tri-Rexes: T Rexes But This Time They Got Three Arms. Vespa is leaning her head on Buddy’s shoulder with a soft, contented look that would probably be hidden by a scowl if she’d been looking at anything other than the captain.

Nureyev is there too, perched on a chair and not meeting his gaze. He’s wearing stilettos, a midnight-black corset, and an aloof expression stonier than obsidian. He won’t meet Juno’s eye.

Buddy sets down her mug with a practiced elegance that implies she is drinking tea and not vodka.

“Well, darlings. I hope you all slept well. We have a lot of work to do.”

Alternatively: A job (gone awry?)

[stitch1830]

I was literally prepared to post a rather dramatic (It isn’t really, but I’m trying to sell the theatrics of it) Taang story this week, then I remembered that I would be missing out on posting a perfectly fluffy story right after Valentine’s Day. So, I found it in me to write about a Gaang Triple Date Night gone slightly (very) awry. Here’s a sneak peak I guess lol. The story should be up by Wednesday or Thursday.

“Wait, where’s Aang and Toph?” Suki asked.

“Yeah! I thought they were behind us.” Sokka recalled. He then wiggled his eyebrows, “You know, this looks like a job for—”

“—Don’t even think about it, Sokka.” Katara grumbled. As much as she wanted Toph and Aang to be there for the game portion of date night, she worried that trying to find them would take longer than if they just played games with Sokka and Suki (and Sokka was sobering up, so he wasn’t as bad of company as he was earlier). Triple date night seemed to be a bust, but at the very least, they could make double date night work. She pushed past the fact that this was all for Aang and Toph, and proceeded with date night by preparing the games she set aside.

Little did the group know, Aang and Toph snuck out of the presence of the other couples to walk around the town at night. They found a bar that played music, and they jumped on the opportunity for a fancy-dancy dance session. Aang wiggled his eyebrows as well as his voice, “What do you say, T? Care to get a lesson from the Fancy Dancer?”

“With your Twinkly Toes leading? I guess, if I don’t have any other choice.” She snarked. 

But after a few jabs and sassy remarks, the couple strutted to the center of the dance floor and twirled and flew and danced the night away. Aang led with an airy grace, and Toph followed with sure steps and improvised moves at an even tempo.