#Liv and cuz write

[oliviabelova]

Love Is A Dagger - Chapter 5

Warnings: Language, mentions of death, fighting, indication of past trauma, canon-typical violence

Rating: n/a

a/n: i can post this now that my shadowban is over so have fun

p.s. @shesawildflowergirl wrote so much more than me for this chapter so thank you my dear <3

It had been over a week since the incident in the basement and Sigrid’s mind was still plagued by it. She had been keeping herself busy, actually Thor had been keeping her busy. It appears that when he decided it would be a good idea for them to stay in Midgard for longer, meaning they would be spending time with the Avengers. Sigrid would have preferred to hibernate in her room until they could finally leave this gods-forsaken realm but that plan was thrashed to pieces the second her peace had been invaded. The days had rounded into a simplistic cycle. After centuries of military training Sigrid was made unable to sleep late so every morning she would rouse Liv, who rarely slept at all, and would drag her to some form of breakfast. That was the only moment of privacy the women got and Sigrid was eternally grateful for it. Liv had issues, that much was obvious, but regardless of them she and Sigrid got along wonderfully. They had always shared a bond that neither really understood. After a breakfast that consisted of black coffee and whatever baked good Liv had grabbed from a cafe down the road, training started. The captain was adamant about it. He was constantly spewing speeches about teamwork and positivity and putting in the effort. None of it was very motivating but somehow worked. Everyone eventually made their way to the training rooms. Though the actual working together part was a mess. There was a constant power struggle between Rogers and Stark. Not to mention arguing. It seemed no one was used to working in a big team. Everyone was remarkably talented alone, or even in groups of two, but not as a squad of eight. Sigrid was patient. She played along with the group’s games, she let the men boss her around, even if she had centuries of signority over all of them. Stark and Rogers shouted over each other, which was endlessly exhausting. It was a real fight for power and a hilarious one at that. The mortals should’ve handed over the reins to some experienced leaders. She understood that Rogers had fought in some great war but that was nothing compared to Thor’s hundreds of years of battle experience. But her prince seemed content enough to work with them. But by the end of the week a training rythme had been settled. Stark would lead the air strike from above along with Thor, meanwhile Dr. Banner would be the secret weapon. Clint Barton and Romanoff would scout ahead and prepare while Captain Rogers would head the ground assault. For some reason he chose both Liv and Sigrid to back him up. Why would he trust his life with two near complete strangers, Sigrid had no idea. Thank the Allfather all of it was just training exercises. In a real life scenario, she knew it would likely all fall apart. Mortals didn't work well together. Mighty Allfather, it took Thor’s team at least 20 years together to learn to rely on one another. Sigrid didn’t put as much effort in as Rogers had hoped. And Rogers had been hoping, Sigrid had heard him. It was terribly annoying. His inner monologue was a drastic display of patriotism and nostalgia. A constant circle of the same boring thoughts. The only interesting thing was when he kept mentioning some man named Bucky. Sigrid could almost feel the despair leaking through the Captain whenever the image of a dark-haired man in uniform popped up. Naturally, she became terribly curious about whoever could cause such hurt, but she had to stop herself from prying. Frigga had to constantly remind Sigrid to pull back when she was younger.

That was how everyday went. Breakfast, training, break and a mandatory group dinner. Sigrid powered through all of it, it was no secret she didn’t want to be there. Half the Avengers didn’t want to be there. At least Sigrid had an excuse. It was the same excuse she used whenever she was forced into dealing with the ever-mundane mortals. Why bother? They’ll all be dead by the time any actual solution was found, it would be much easier to wait out the short inevitable. But this little team gave Sigrid time to spend with Liv and Thor, her favourite people. And time to think over her Loki situation. Oh, Allfather. Tonight she would have to see him again. She wasn’t sure she was ready. She couldn’t let what happened last time repeat itself, even if a small part of her wanted it to. Because in that moment, she felt all the realms at her fingertips. She wanted that again, even if it was heresy. 

Sigrid had been in the middle of ignoring a rampage between Stark, who had shown up late to a team meeting, and Rogers, who had shown up fifteen minutes early and was angry at Stark for being so late, when Natasha Romanoff strode into the conference room. Things between Sigrid and the Black Widow were fine, they tolerated one another. In fact they worked quite well together, you can still be good teammates without being friends as the two “leaders” had yet to understand. 

“We’ve got a visitor.” Natasha announced, she was wearing a simple outfit, jeans and a hoodie. 

“Who is it?” Banner asked, his glasses perched over his nose, from the corner he had been reading in.

“Fury,” Romanoff sighed. 

“Not that fucking guy.” Stark swore, rubbing his sleepless eyes. Something he had in common with his goddaughter. 

“Language,” the Captain’s head shot at Tony Stark. 

“The boss was gonna come eventually.” Barton added as he played with one of his arrow heads, his comments unhelpful as ever. 

“Who is Fury?” Sigrid wondered, she was very familiar with the emotion, not so much the man. 

“Honestly, nobody knows.” Clint chided. Sigrid rather liked Hawkeye, he only ever contributed snide remarks to the conversation. He was delightful by mortal standards. 

She was about to respond when the doors opened up once again with a loud thud. In walked in was a bald, black man wearing a dramatic black trenchcoat and missing an eye. 

Ah, she realised, this must be Fury. 

“What motherfucker let aliens stay on this planet?” 

Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D, was not known for his good company. But he was damn good at his job. The fact that Earth was still standing was proof enough. And it wouldn’t help him do his job if he had three powerful gods running around free on his planet. The Security Council was already giving him enough shit about the heroes he did sign up for his Initiative, and the damage they caused. He shouldn’t have to deal with a couple more morons, yet here he was. Standing in front of exactly seven morons, one more than planned. 

“I am going to speak calmly because I don’t have enough fucking patience to scream at you all.” He began as the Avengers and friends stared at him. “Who invited them,” he pointed aggressively at Sigrid and Thor, “to stay here because I sure as hell didn’t.” 

The Avengers were dead silent. Fury kept talking. 

“Because I thought that Prince Thor over here was going to help us capture his evil brother then fly away to his own planet. Instead he’s still here, Loki is in an unguarded prison and they brought another friend! So who do I have to blame for this?” 

It was at that moment that Liv walked in, wearing a sleek leather jacket and carrying a bag of day old donuts. 

“Did I miss something?” She asked, her accent slipping in furiously. 

Fury looked at her, then back at the group, repeating the motion at least twice. 

Stark started to get up to speak but Nick Fury shot him a look that anyone could understand. 

“I don’t even want to hear it,” he warned. “Just send the aliens and leather jacket over here to my office.” 

It turned out that Nick Fury did not have an office in Stark Tower, instead he stole Tony’s. The room was made of glass while a mahogany desk and slick leather chair were propped up in the centre of the chamber. Fury leaned against the overstuffed chair, starring Sigrid and Thor down. Sigrid wasn’t quite sure what to do in this situation. Part of her wanted to delve into Fury’s mind, figure out what was going on with him. But he was also a very intimidating figure who didn’t seem like he would appreciate someone poking around in the most private places. So instead she just sat there awkwardly, feeling like she was stuck with Frigga after she had committed another minor felony with Thor and Loki.

“Thor.” Nick Fury began. “I thought we had a deal, you would help us fight then would take Loki back with you to Asgard. Yet here you are, on my planet with unsolicited visitors.” 

“Fear not, Director, we will not remain on this planet long.” Sigrid promised, sitting up as if ready to flee the room. Which she was ready, if Thor gave the word she would gladly be sprinting up the Bifrost right now.

“Who is this,” Fury fumed, still not looking at Sigrid. 

This very much annoyed the Asgardian. She had never appreciated when people would speak of her to Thor, even though she was in the room. Asgard, though a paradice, was not always the most progressive place. The realm had been ruled for aeons by men, there had never been a true queen on the throne. And until not so long ago these powerful men would surround themselves with other gods like them. There were brutes and fierce intellects, but not a goddess in sight. It was Odin who started to slowly change that, or really it was Frigga. The queen raised by witches, back before witchcraft died at the stake, with a strategist’s mind and a sorcerer’s gifts. She had stood by Odin proudly, offering the safest council, being his most trusted advisor. They had ushered a new age to Asgard together, one where tradition did not bode so viciously. It was because of the queen’s journey that Sigrid could even become a general in the Allfather’s army. So no, after all her tireless work and sacrifice, she did not appreciate Fury talking like she wasn’t in the room. 

“I am General Sigrid Tyrdottir, a commander of the Allfather’s legions, right hand to the crown prince Thor Odinson, and pupil of queen Frigga. Speak to me with the respect my station entitles, mortal”

On any other day Sigrid would’ve clamped her mouth shut and continued to prove herself until everyone, even this scarred man she had just met, realised how worthy she was. But somehow things were different now. She felt different. Slightly the same but with an edge, a temper, like she had finally let go of whatever was forcing her to the ground. Loki would have been proud of such an arrogant outburst. It wasn’t safe to do things Loki would be proud of, even if it felt good at the time. Sigrid would have to control herself better. 

At least she had gotten Fury’s attention. The director of S.H.I.E.L.D turned his head away from the blond prince to get a proper look at the woman— not woman, the alien to his left. The woman was pretty in the unnatural way both it seemed all Asgardians were, in other words a bit too perfect to be human. High cheekbones and scowling lips were set in warm ivory skin. Her hair was a braided mess of different hues of brown, from deep chocolate to gold. She was tall, maybe 5’11 or 6’0, her leanly muscular body covered head to toe in slick blue leather and silver armour. In conclusion, Fury didn’t trust any of her, not even a hair on her immortal head. What he trusted the least were those eyes. Perfectly round and edged with thin lashes, the colour was the opposite of mortal. Dark and boundless. Irises bluer than the deepest oceans, bluer than the sharpest ink. They weren’t quite electric, like the god of thunder’s, or cold like the prince in the basement cell, no, these held a depth that raged and smoked. They held a power Earth should not have to discover. Fury would make sure it didn’t.

“Fine,” he said. “How long do you intend to stay in New York?” 

“I’m not sure,” Thor mused, noticing the tension dissipate ever so slightly. “Sigrid and I would enjoy visiting Midgard for a while before returning to our duties on Asgard.” 

“Earth is not a vacation destination for bored godly princes. And it definitely won’t be a halfway house for your motherfucking, lunatic of a brother. If you’re going to stay here you have to give something back to us.” 

“We aren’t giving you Loki, he will face the Allfather’s justice.” Sigrid suddenly felt very protective.

“As much as the World Security Council would love to throw that freaky-ass god in the Raft, I don’t want him here forever.” 

“So what do you want from us?” Thor asked. 

Nick Fury reached into his black leather coat, pulling out several sheets of tightly bound paper. Neat black script covering all of it save for some dotted lines towards the end. “Something easy, sign this contract and you can stay on Earth as long as you want.” 

Sigrid had never seen a paper contract before, Asgard had functioned solely on honourable oaths. 

“What happens if we sign?” She wondered, weighing her options. She still thought it was a better idea for them to just leave Midgard now and never look back. Ah, what a dream that would be. 

“It means you’re put under the jurisdiction of S.H.I.E.L.D, you work for us and go on missions where your talents are needed. You officially become an Avenger.” 

“And if we don’t sign your agreement?” She asked, both sides of this coin become more clear. 

“Then both I, the entirety of the U.S government and World Security Council, and the Avengers will hunt you to the ends of the Earth until all three of your majesties are behind bars in a prison that can hold you.” 

Sigrid mused at the idea of this hunt. She had no doubt that Fury was a man of his word, but she also knew that he wouldn’t even begin to know how to hunt down three powerful Asgardians such as herself and the princes. Even if they were caught, and that was a strong if, they could always just escape via Heimdall. 

She was tempted to say no, even if it were just to see Fury’s expression but Thor was already reaching for the pen. 

“Are we not going to discuss this?” She lifted a single brow in questioning. 

“You already agreed we could play Avengers for some time, why not have proof in writing. Besides, what kind of threats could Midgard possibly have?” 

“We just had an alien invasion led by your brother.” Fury deadpanned. 

“Exactly,” Thor grinned at Sigrid. “What kind of threats could Midgard possibly have? Come on, it’ll be fun.” 

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. It would be nice to stay longer with Liv, make sure she finished this chapter of her life in a stable manner. And this way she could get to the bottom of this Loki problem without being on Asgardian soil, where everything would suddenly become bigger, more complicated and worse. She missed home desperately but there were certain problems that were best to be the sole focus and if she were to return home, her duties would take over once more. A small vacation wouldn’t hurt, even if it were in one of the worst realms, even if Loki were somehow involved in it. 

Sigrid took the black ballpoint pen and signed her name once in Asgardian runes, then again in the Midgardian English letters, making sure to include her full title so that Fury knew exactly who he was dealing with. 

Sigrid had chosen to spend the rest of the day alone. After becoming an “Avenger” and sending Liv and Stark for their meeting with Fury, who Sigrid had decided was an imbecile with anger management issues, Thor had gone off to celebrate the day. Sigrid was not in the mood for celebrating, she rarely was. She had become such a killjoy over the years. When she wasn’t fighting, she was resting or reading over spellbooks, trying to master the craft she had been forced to stop learning. She missed the easy nights she had known when she was young. Evenings filled with chilled breezes and sweet drinks, she had spent those nights happy. Thor doing tricks with Mjolnir, she and Loki performing little shows with their illusions. She had lived for those nights, they had once meant the world to her. Sometimes she wished she could go back, but now all she wanted was the answers. Answers to what had happened, what had changed. Because she had most certainly changed, and she feared it was not for the better. There was one man with those answers. It had been a week already, tonight she would finally get them. 

Dressed in a pair of too-short grey flannel pyjama pants she had borrowed from Liv and a hoodie with “TONY STARK; THE BILLIONAIRE WITH SNARK” written in bright blue letters under a giant picture of Stark’s grinning face that she had stolen from the Stark Tower gift shop, which was a real, unneeded thing. She felt mortified wearing such a ghastly garment but she was cold and she had yet to go shopping for proper mortal clothes. She wasn’t like Loki who could just will them into creation, she was never as talented with illusions to her own annoyance. She felt even worse when she entered the basement and found Loki on the edge of tears when he saw Sigrid’s clothing. 

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen you wear, and I once saw you dressed in a dwarf's wedding gown.” Loki thought, forcing the memory onto Sigrid. That vacation to Nidavallir was not something she purposely wanted to reminisce about.  

“Stop with the nostalgia, Loki.” She warned, being sure to speak the words aloud. The power he held over her was already too much. “Tell me what happened.” 

Loki tilted his head ever so slightly, each action chosen for a reason. “Why would I tell you so easily, there’s no fun in that. Not when I could watch you search frantically for clues.” 

“You will tell because if you don’t I’ll be more than happy to kill you here and now.” 

“Now I know you’re lying,” He thought, every soundless syllable painted in poison. “Odin’s precious guard-dog would never disobey her master.” 

Sigrid took a step forward, then another. Anger ravaged through her in ways only Loki could provoke. She knew this was all a game to him, that she was playing into whatever master plan he had in the works. Emotions were not a soldier’s tool, they were meant to be set aside, saved until the war was done. Her father had taught her that, and his father before him. All Sigrid ever knew was strategy and steel yet now she ignored her own knowledge, unwillingly playing her part in Loki’s game. Worst of all, a part of her liked it. A part of her had always longed to act differently, to join the unexpected. It was what had initially bonded her and Loki when they were children, and it was what separated them now as adults. Loki had grasped the horizon, even if it made him the villain. While Sigrid was still stuck with a collar around her neck. 

“Stop this.” She said, grinding her teeth. These were not her true thoughts, not what she really felt. She was happy. This was the life she was destined for, she was meant for Asgard. 

“I’m not doing anything sølvdronningen min, I can’t create thoughts nor emotions. This is all you.” Loki whispered, for no reason at all his voice resonated softly in her mind. Like he was trying to be comforting, the liar. 

Sigri’s eyes lifted until she was staring into the depths of her enemy’s blueish-green irises. 

“Tell the truth Loki, tell me what you saw, what happened to me.” 

“Take this muzzle off and I’ll tell you.” 

Normally, Sigrid wouldn’t negotiate with the enemy but as time wore on she grew more and more desperate. She was tired of feeling this way, like she didn’t recognize herself anymore. She moved towards the hatch attached to one of the cell’s thick glass walls. She didn’t know the code on the built in lock but that didn’t really matter. One burst of above average Asgardian strength of the lock was tumbling to the ground. Stark’s incarceration themed technology could use some work. With a final tug and one last step Sigrid was inside the cell. She expected to feel overwhelmed. For the first time in centuries she was alone in a room with Loki. And though she ignored parts of their shared history, for her own sake, she couldn’t help but remember the last time they were this close. 

That night on the balcony. 

“The night you left me.” 

Sigrid's head whipped towards Loki, having heard his thoughts. She was prepared to see some smirk hidden behind cold eyes, some form of hate or manipulation. But Loki was looking away, still staring ahead of him, where Sigrid had been standing before. Sigrid didn’t have to delve deeper into his mind to know that he hadn’t been talking to her. She’d simply overheard a private thought, one he hadn’t meant to share. The fact he was recalling the same memory and feeling the same hurt. It was somehow worse than any other evil he had spewed. 

“Is this what you wanted Loki? For us to be in the same room?” Sigrid sighed. 

Loki turned around slowly, filling the small cell with tendrils of green couloured tension. “I’d like you to take this damned muzzle off, unlike you I am no one’s dog.” 

“I hate you,” Sigrid says as she breaks the muzzle in half. Her words simmered off her breath as she inhaled quickly, realising how close she was to Loki now. Their faces were a mere inch away from each other. Unknowable instinct took over as Sigrid’s breath stilled and her eyes wandered. Without wanting to, she memorised every part of this new, terrible Loki. From the snow white pores of his skin, cold as any true Jotun, to the gentle curves of his thin lips. His dishevelled jet-black hair, the thin cut running through an arched brow, the sharpness of his jaw. Most of all his eyes, distant but filled with hunger. A hunger for what? Sigrid asked herself. Power? His throne? The nine realms? Or something else… 

“I know you do,” Loki said quietly. His voice was hoarse in the way it got when he didn’t use it very often, which rarely happened. It was a cold, quiet thing, calculated and hurtful at times. But Sigrid remembered the way he used to sound, the way he still did in her dreams at night. When he had a voice that could be light, that grew higher whenever he got excited, when he had a laugh warmer than a summer’s day. 

This is madness, Sigrid thought to herself. This isn’t anything real, it never was. 

She stepped back, regaining some common sense. Loki looked dazed for a moment but soon remembered where he was. He scowled. 

“Tell me what happened, Loki.” Sigrid said. “And do so in a direct way.”

“When did you stop being fun?” Loki flashed a sad smile but soon got down to business. “I barely understand what happened myself, Sigrid. One moment we were chatting and the next you were floating in the air, silvery-blue smoke seeping out of you as your eyes glowed the same colour.” 

“But what does that mean?” 

“Why should I know?” Loki frowned. Fake. 

Sigrid tried to remember that night, to remember Loki’s face. “But you smiled when it happened.” 

“I smile at a lot of things,” Loki insisted. 

“We both know you don’t.” Sigrid reminded him. “Loki, please. Tell me why I feel different now.” 

His jet black brows shot up. “Different, how?” 

“I’m not sure, more powerful. Like there are no more walls blocking me from seeing the world anymore.” 

“Fascinating,” Loki whispered to himself. 

Sigrid was getting tired of these short answers that were no help at all. Tired of all these feelings that his awful realm has brought forth. Most of all, she was tired of Loki and his nonsense. 

She took a breath, and prepared to rip the god in front of her to shreds. 

“I don’t know why I came down here, why I thought you had any explanation for what happened to me! All you ever do is think of yourself, you and your power and obsession with gaining the throne. Odin was right about you and I look forward to the day you meet the executioner's blade.” 

With those final words Sigrid stormed away, feeling more angry and confused than ever before. She swore to herself that she’d never return to see Loki in his blasted cell. What Sigrid didn’t see was Loki’s face once she left. It was one of triumph and morbid curiosity, his lips formed into a smile as he spoke these words to no one at all. 

“She’ll be back.” 

The pain in her shoulder was unbearable, hot blood running down her arm as she lay crouched on the ground. Continuous bursts of piercing bright light and searing flames burst from her body in a steady rhythm, shielding her from her attacker when she no longer had the strength to do so.

“Get up!” Andrei called, his gruff voice like racks scratching against a chalkboard.

Vasilisa had managed to block a magazine's worth of shots before a single bullet slipped through her fiery shield and ripped through her shoulder. It wasn’t the first time she’d been shot, she had a scar on her thigh and stomach to show it.

A tiny, broken whimper breaks past her lips as he takes a handful of her blonde hair and pulls her up to sitting. His cold, unfeeling eyes are empty of empathy as he stares daggers at her. She knows he can see the weakness, the fear, in her eyes, and she hates it. Hates how weak she is, hates how her body scars, hates the pain and the blood.

Andrei loosened his grip on her hair enough for her to slump forward as he slapped her sharp across the face. She tried to scream, to cry, but all she managed was a shattered sob. 

She hated this.

She hated listening to men, men who barely even knew her name, argue over what to do with her.

She could easily run, disappear, never come back, but after their quiet mornings and peaceful nights, Liv didn’t want to leave Sigrid. It was obvious, to her at least, that the war goddess was struggling with her long lost lover being locked up in the basement. As much as she wanted to deny it, Sigrid was in some way enamoured with the god of mischief. Liv didn’t quite understand the notion of romantic love, with its grand gestures and warm feelings. Her expertise lay in the more dreadful side of life, in the dark alleys and empty midnights, where creatures of the shadows made deals with the devil and turned their backs on eachother like there was no other way to live. The assassin was rather good at this kind of work, tricking the devil into signing her contract then letting her knife taste his blood when they were finished. 

Watching Fury and Stark bicker over what exactly to do with her, she seriously considered homicide as a means of escape. She’d let her godfather go mostly unharmed, slit the throat of the director, a clean kill, and take out the rest of the agents she knew would be waiting outside. Easy.

There was an older man with greying hair and cold eyes sitting across from her at the head of the table. He seemed like a government-type, well pressed suit and a folder of papers in front of him. Liv hated government-types. They thought they controlled everything and everyone. They barely even controlled themselves.

“I don’t give a damn who she’s related to, Stark! She’s killed more than 60 people in the past 20 years.” Fury roared, slamming his fist down on the table.

“68, actually.” Liv chimed from her seat. “Well, 68 and a half. That last one sort of made it.” 

Both Fury and Tony shot her a look that said “Really? Now?” before returning to their argument.

“That wasn’t her, Fury, it was someone else. Some freaky scientist who managed to put a computer chip in her head.” Tony retorted, trying not to make eye contact with his niece. It was clear that her kill count had made him uncomfortable, but that was relatively common. She was comfortable with the concept of death, unlike most civilians, who were cowardly at the mere thought of ceasing to exist. 

“And what proof do you have? Her words are just as meaningless as any other hired gun! She could be lying to our faces and you wouldn’t even know!” 

Liv sighed. This was getting tiring and she still hadn’t had her coffee yet. It was probably still in the meeting room getting cold and stale. What a waste of good caffeine. She had been hoping to go back and see the gorgeous barista who had served her this morning, maybe chat for a bit and get her number, but, alas, it looked like her day would be completely booked up. 

“Honestly, I don’t see ‘vat all this fuss is about.” She rose silently from her chair, kicking it back with a sharp twist of her heel. “Really, I can just leave if you ‘vant me to.”

“NO!” Both men shouted, tossing her a quick glance before looking back into each other's eyes. 

Liv looked taken aback, putting her hands up as if to surrender. “Wow, okay.” She groaned. “Actually just an offer. But I have a feeling this is more about your over inflated egos competing to see who’s going to be top dog, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get some coffee.”

She picked up her jacket and slung it over her shoulder, pushing herself out of the hard chair they’d sat her in, and before turning towards the thick steel doors. She pressed a lithe hand to the keypad to her right, a flashing message on the screen demanding a code to open the doors. The computer screen glitched, hot glass beginning to swirl. Bright orange sparks burst from its sides as it died, the doors beginning to open with a rush of cold air.

Liv pulled her hand back, flicking off the hot glass that came away. Nobody tried to stop her, whether it was due to orders or fear, she couldn’t tell. The doors moved slowly, as if reluctant to let her out after she mangled the controls. She tapped a heeled foot on the floor, fidgeting. Something about this made her nervous. Someone could quickly pull a gun on her, press the cold barrel to her back. She could handle it, at least that’s what she told herself. It seemed the longer she stayed around these people, the more nervous and twitchy she felt. 

I’m letting my guard down. 

The doors finally opened, and Liv didn’t wait to rush out. She kept eyes trained on the toes of her boots, examining what seemed to be something maroon that had dried on the tip. Could be mud, but as far as she remembered, she hadn’t been running through anywhere muddy recently. Blood was always an answer she could reach for, but the aliens she’d fought yesterday had bled black oil onto her black. It had stunk like a bitch-

Her thoughts were interrupted when she ran head-on into what felt like a fucking brick wall. She stumbled backwards, dazed and confused as she tried to find the source of her predicament.

“Пиздец!” Liv groaned, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead and throwing her head back in annoyance. Damn this stupid hysteria she was in!

Liv wasn’t in the mood to explain to the agents she could feel watching her back why she’d run into the wall that had appeared in front of her by some wild magic, but when she looked up, her mood only worsened. 

It wasn’t a wall. It was a Rogers.

Mentally, Liv kicked herself for being so distracted. If she hadn’t been thinking about the spot on her shoe, maybe she would have avoided this.

“Ms. Caroll.” The Captain mumbled, avoiding her glowering eyes as best he could. Steve didn’t feel like saying much else. He’d been working together with the assassin and her goddess for a few weeks now, forcing the pair to head ground assaults alongside him. He could tell the pair were tight-knit. Sigrid would rarely speak to anyone but Liv and Thor, and when she did talk to others, it was purely professional. The goddess was tactful and brilliant and a great addition to the struggling team. Liv, on the other hand, seemed miserable and constantly vexed. While Sigrid was at least somewhat civil, the Russian was quite the opposite. She opposed every single one of Steve’s ideas, ignored any orders she was given in favour of her own, and generally seemed to only stick around for Romanoff, or the Asguardians. Even her relationship with her godfather was a strained one, as they had yet to address what had happened to her. Vasilisa Karollova was a true wildcard and Steve supposed it came from some sort of need for self control. As much as she yelled, and swore and argued with him, the Captain had to admit, Liv was good. Really damn good. He’d seen her fight, kill, protect, her skill rivalling that of the Black Widow herself. It pained him a little to say this, but whenever she went against orders, called her own shots, she generally came up with a faster and more efficient plan. Of course, most of her plans involved twice as many deaths as he would’ve liked, but they were clean and never seemed to bother her. It was clear that Liv was troubled, and deeply so, but she didn’t kill like a serial killer or a psychopath. No, she killed like a professional. And it frightened him. 

“Captain.” She said through gritted teeth, radiating both anger and physical heat. “You want to move? I’m trying to leave.” 

“Be my guest.” He growled, taking a step closer as if to challenge her. 

She met his gaze, lifting a dark eyebrow. “What’re you playing at, Rogers?”

“What do you think?”

Liv curled her fist, feeling a surging heat pushing against her skin, fighting to make it to the surface, to taste the tension in the air. And she almost let it. Almost.

“HELLO FRIENDS!”

The sound of Thor’s boisterous voice broke the tension like a hot knife through butter. He bounded into the room, rushing Liv like he was trying to run her over. 

“Hello, Lady Liv, Captain Rogers.”

“Thor.” Steve sounded mildly relieved at the sudden appearance of the Asgardian Prince. 

Ha! Liv thought Scared little rat.

“Hi, Thor.” She sighed, turning towards the giant of a god. “How are you feeling today? I ‘vas hearing last night's revels were very… exciting.” 

Thor nodded vigorously, obviously excited to recount whatever tale he had to tell. 

“I am feeling quite well, my lady, especially after I bested one of Fury’s men in a game he called ‘Arm Wrestling’.” 

Liv began to lead him away, using his arrival as an easy excuse to be done with Rogers. 

“Да, да, I have heard much about this game. Will you explain the rules to me?”

And Steve could do nothing but watch and wonder What was he playing at? He turned toward the meeting room, and approached the doors, just in time to watch the control panel on the door explode.

Hope you enjoyed!!

Tagging: @nymeria-of-winterfell @rexwastaken @widowdeckersrep @jurassicobsessor @evostokoff @rooskaya-yelena @stephanieromanoff @littlekidsteve @ohsweetvenom @thewildseuphoria @sanguine-saber @adoraweisz @faramir-stan @xx-alex-damaged-xx @zalie @romanticgumchewer-reactivated @entishramblings @toomanynotifications @im-constantly-fangirling @mrs-brekker15 @a-reader-and-a-writer @senuritaawsome226 @shesawildflowergirl

#marvel angst #marvel fluff #marvel oc #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #liv and cuz write #liv caroll #sigrid tyrsdottir #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #black widow #iron man #hulk #hawkeye #loki laufeyson x original female character #loki laufeyson x oc #marvel #marvel mcu #natasha romanoff #chris evans #steve rogers #marvel comics #marvel fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x avenger!reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x avenger!reader #chris evans x reader #tom hiddleston x reader

[skyliv]

i wrote tthis at like midnight..,, why?

i dunno but HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

Bundled under a weighted blanket and cat at her side, Lucy was awoken by the faintest sound. Not the quiet creaking of her door, the rise of her lover and the footsteps away, not even the purr of her kitten. Rather, it was a whisper.

"Lucy..."

She lets out a small groan, and weakly brings up her arm to try and rub her face. It took her a moment to really wake up; the room was cool and the curtains were drawn, she practically forgot it was Christmas in her comfort. After she rubs the sleep from her eyes, she practically shoots up...

But Lucy's quick sitting up is met with a blur of green as a plush is chucked into her face. She falls back onto her pillows with a squeak, and the sudden movements cause the tortishelle cat to scamper off and out of sight. She takes a moment to adjust, her momentary floundering met with enthusiastic snickering from none other than Olivia.

The doctor is clad in a large, loose tank top and some baggy pants adorned in star prints. Her hair is down and not even held back, so silky strands of brown and purple cascade around her face and over her shoulders. The sunlight that streams in from the doorway and crack of curtains surrounds her like a halo- If she were anyone else, Lucy would've thought for a split second that she died and saw an angel.

"Merry Christmas, Luce," Olivia chuckles while Lucy sits up. When the younger woman does catch her bearings, she's able to process her present. A big green and tan octopus plushie, with little glass eyes and a stitched smile. Liv picks up a pillow on the empty side of the bed, puffs it up, and then plops herself on the bed as she holds it.

"Where did you- Since when?!" Lucy tosses the octopus in her hands, spinning it around and inspecting the springy tentacles with all the joy of someone getting their first Christmas present... Ever.

Olivia leans forward, sitting cross legged as she pulls the other woman close with a thin arm around her shoulders. "I ordered him like... Half a year ago now?" Her words are punctuated with the slightest laugh, one the causes Lucy's smile to brighten and for her to lean in.

The doctor tugs a tentacle toward herself, letting herself lean into her girlfriend as they both inspect it like a lab rat. Lucy grins wider when Olivia lets go of the tentacle and it springs right back into place.

"I don't think I could love a present more," Lucy murmurs, glancing over to Olivia with a much softer gaze. She runs a hand through her own hair, still fairly self conscious that she was woken up in a mess for something this sweet. "But I hope I have something that can make up for it,"

A peck of a kiss on Liv's cheek... And thankfully, later, she did present a real gift. A basket of assorted green trinkets and bunches of little things that reminded her of their love. A CD of an album they both liked, a box of chocolates she had gotten them on one of their first dates, a little cat plush. All these little things couldn't begin to describe how much they loved each other.

#sayijg this again buuut #this can technically be x reader #also using the liv tag cuz im petty #olivia octavius #self ship #selfship #selfship writing #self ship writing #🪶skyliv🧪

[mecharose]

I love when im hanging out with my friends irl and they think I said something profound or funny or interesting and they're like "wow! you should write a novel-" but halfway through realize who they're talking to and stop 😂

#im always like woah for REAL ive never thought of that!!! :O #its the best tho cuz its like well. mission accomplished clearly the council agrees im doing what im supposed to 😎 #i dont rly talk about writing outside tumblr usually so it makes sense but most of my friends do know im writing just not the ~specifics~ #liv shouts into the void

[shishiikura]

i wanted to tell you how much i liked your effigy update! its obvious you care a lot about it. sometimes it takes a lot of time to read because im not familiar with the source material but youre doing amazing with it

Thank you so much I really appreciate it!! The fact that you're reading it without even knowing the source material is such high praise to me

#the source material really doesn't have a ton to go off of anyway tbh the fic is like 80% headcanon #devised by Zuu and I in our collective twisted braincell #it's really fun to write for that reason though #but really it's kinda wild when you think about it cuz without context you're probably wondering why tf Cassandra is an alien #among other things #and IN context there's a bunch of wild shit that goes on #anyway... thank u again it's such a niche fic so I'm happy ppl read it #liv rants

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part nineteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you make some new friends.

a/n: this might be my favourite chapter yet. I had sooooooo much fun writing it, and finally touching on/adapting scenes from the show is bringing me so much joy I can’t wait to get to the meat of it, but the parts between now and then excite me too!!

word count: 6.7k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, if you’ve been reading up until now you know the drill, I’m getting lazy with my warnings LOL, no smut here, a bit of angst, F R I E N D S H I P

✨@friskito-library for new works and updates✨

Your days in the radio room have become more and more frequent, since your run-in with Gwen and her crew. It’s like you told Tess; with Hartford gone, you’d lost one of your more consistent meet-ups, and you needed to know what else was out there. You needed new connections, new friends, allies. You needed something. In case Boston went belly-up and needed to get the hell out of dodge and never look back, you needed a soft place to land.

Abe’s garnered quite the collection, over the years, and it’s like everywhere you look, there’s another wire connecting from one wall to the next, batteries that probably shouldn’t still work plugged into far too many devices. His map collection is something to write home about, and you spend some time trying to figure out the path Joel and Tommy took from Austin, but when your finger finds Cincinnati, your chest goes tight, and you return to the room Abe’s set up for just for you, branched off the main room he uses to send requested messages.

You’re still paying him with cigarettes, although some of them are the hand-rolled FEDRA shit that McCoy has a penchant for. The soldier’s other habits always seem to win, though, and you always have at least half a dozen for Abe, who’s quietly grateful, waving you off into the side room, closing the door behind you.

“I don’t wanna know,” he told you when you first asked. It’s been a while now, though you stopped for a while when Nick shot Joel, when you both needed time to recover. “Just do what you need to do, and leave me out of it, okay?”

“So you don’t want any more cigarettes?”

He pointed a finger at you. “I never said that.”

And here you are, one side of the big headphones pressed to your ear. The foam has definitely seen better days, but the sound is relatively clear. You’ve kept a notebook of your contacts, the frequencies they’re usually on, the days of the week and times they’re usually available. Today, you’ve gone through every single one, and no one is out there. So you’re just twisting the dials, the strange sound of the static and frequencies almost giving you a headache, but then—

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’, cuz I’ve built my life around you.

You haven’t heard that song in a long, long time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the last time you heard it was in Joel’s truck, in that field just outside of Austin, staring up at the stars. Fleetwood Mac has always been one of your favourites, and you slide the other side of the headphones over, encasing yourself in the song, shutting your eyes as the music crackles over the radio.

But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m getting older, too.

You can feel the song in your soul. It digs straight into your chest, the crooned lyrics wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight.

Oh, I’m getting older, too.

You let it wash over you, sinking back into the chair, wrapping your arms around yourself, tilting your head back on your shoulders and making the cable connecting the headset to the radio stretch. You’ve found a few cassette tapes over the years — namely the same Led Zeppelin album you’d once given Joel for his truck — but you make a mental note to keep your eye out for Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Nicks.

The song finishes, and you sigh, straightening in the chair, reaching out to turn off the radio, fingers brushing against the knob.

“If there’s anybody out there, my name is Frank. I’m on frequency 1462. We have resources, and we are looking to trade.”

He repeats himself again, and then another song starts. More Fleetwood, Go Your Own Way.

Well, shit.

Your fingers fly across the knobs, turning to the right frequency, wincing at the whine as it clicks on. You reach for the microphone.

“Hello?”

There’s a fraction of a pause before, “Oh my god, hi!”

If your years of smuggling have taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anybody right off the bat. You have to be wary, you have to be careful. Hell, there are still people you’ve traded with that you don’t trust as far as you can throw. It’s just the way things are.

But fuck, if he doesn’t have the kindest-sounding voice.

“Is this Frank?”

“It is!” he replies, his excitement somehow palpable through the radio waves. “Oh my god, I was starting to think no one was gonna hear that message.”

“It’s a good song,” you laugh, pulling the mic closer to you on the table. “Haven’t heard it in a long time.”

“It’s a classic,” he agrees, and there’s a slight pause before, “Okay, I’m gonna admit, I have no idea how to do this.”

“How to do…?”

“Make deals,” he says, “meet people over the radio. Have you done this before?”

You’re not quite sure how much truth you should offer a perfect stranger, regardless of how kind he sounds. If this is a FEDRA trap, chances are good you’ll be able to blackmail your way out of it. So you settle on, “Once or twice.”

“Am I allowed to know your name? Or is that not…?”

“It’s Liv,” you offer. “Where are you, Frank?”

He pauses again. “I’m not sure if I should…” You can hear the sudden hesitancy in his tone; you know it well.

“Why don’t I tell you how I normally do this?”

“That would be perfect.”

“You tell me what you have to offer, I tell you what I have to trade. We settle on terms, pick a meeting spot and a date, and that’s that. You don’t kill me or my people, I don’t kill you or yours, and we part ways with what we’ve bargained for. Simple.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“But before we get into that, can we at least make sure we’re in the same state? I try not to cross the borders if I can manage it.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” he agrees. “We’re in Massachusetts.”

“Good,” you nod, reaching for your notebook and pen, scrawling Frank’s name on your page, along with the frequency number. “So are we.”

“Coast?”

“Pretty close.”

“Good.”

“So we’re in the same state,” you say, tapping the pen against the paper. “What are you offering to trade, Frank?”

“Tell me something first,” he prompts, and your brow lifts slowly. “How long do your…relationships with traders usually last?”

Your throat bobs, Gwen’s screaming voice echoing through your head, but you shove it away. “Depends. As long as everyone holds up their end of the deal, there’s no real time limit.”

“What’s the longest you’ve traded with someone?”

“There’s a group in Providence I’ve been trading with since 2008. Never had any issues there.”

“Uh-huh, good to know. The thing is, what I’m proposing here, it might not be the same as the other deals you’ve made. We’re well-protected here. My partner, Bill, he’s…he’s a survivalist, and he’s built this place to last. We’re not going anywhere fast, we’re sustainable.”

“Meaning you wouldn’t come to the city,” you say, catching on, and now you’re the one feeling hesitant. “Depending how far out you are, it might not be worth it to us. There’d have to be something worth the risk each time, and I don’t—”

“Freshly cooked meals,” he says, and you stop dead. “Fresh vegetables. Wine, the good kind. New clothes, building materials, and weap—”

“Stop,” you say quickly, cutting him off. “I only trust the radio so far. Give me coordinates, and a date, and we go from there.”

He gives you the coordinates, you scribble the numbers down, and decide on a date, three days from today. You say your goodbyes, and you tell him not to get back on the radio until you’ve met, but to keep playing the music, so you know everything is still a-go. “You like Fleetwood Mac?”

“I love Fleetwood Mac.”

“Then you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

You can’t help the smile in your voice. “I’ve got a good feeling about this, Frank.”

“Me, too.”

“Well, I’ll see you soon, I guess.”

“See you soon. Oh, and Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe.”

It catches you off guard, makes something crawl up the back of your throat.“Thanks, Frank. You too.”

You dial to a different frequency the moment you’re done, shutting down the radio entirely, and leave without a word. Abe doesn’t so much as glance at you as you head out, past the long string of people waiting patiently for him to send their messages.

+

Joel’s home before you are, which is a shock.

His back is killing him. Tommy’s skipped out on every single one of his jobs lately, and Joel feels like every time he turns a corner, there’s something else that needs repairs, another new face asking him to fix something. His hands hurt, he’s got a kink in his neck, and all he really wants to do is fall into bed and have your body curled against his.

He sighs as he gets through the door, brow pinching when he doesn’t find you perched at the table or sitting on the couch, head bent over your maps or flipping through your notebooks. It’s become habit for you lately, wanting to build up your connections more and more, now that Hartford is gone.

The guilt over the entire situation lingers in the back of Joel’s mind, a nagging voice that sounds suspiciously like his brother.

Joel shakes the thought away. He did what he had to, to protect you. To protect his wife, his family.

He did what he had to.

Locking the door behind him, he tosses his makeshift tool bag — a ratty backpack he found at the donation hall before it shut down — into the corner, and flops onto the couch. He slings his hand over his eyes. He’ll just close them for a minute, just until you’re home, until you’re…

A nightmare latches onto him with a vice-like grip, throws him fully out of sleep with a gasp, his chest heaving.

“Joel?” your voice calls, a soft echo across the apartment, and he turns to see you perched in one of the kitchen chairs, pencil between your teeth, your hair falling in your eyes. “Baby, you okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, swinging his legs off the couch, getting to his feet with a groan. He rubs at his lower back as he pads over to the kitchen, coming to stand behind you. He leans forward and plants both hands on the table either side of you, leaning down until he can fit his chin into the curve of your neck, planting soft kisses at your pulse.

“Fine, now that you’re home,” he mumbles, and you lean back into him slightly, turning your head so you can kiss at his, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair. “You were out late.”

“I’ve been home for hours,” you reply, huffing a laugh, setting the pencil on the table. Your maps are all spread out, the big one of Massachusetts on the top. “You’ve been asleep the entire time. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Joel drags one hand off the table, moves his arm so it’s slung around your chest, curling his fingers around your rib cage. “How nice of you.”

“Best wife ever,” you say, and Joel laughs into your skin. “Oh, and there’s dinner for you. Abe’s wife sent me home with food as thank you for fixing their door the other day.”

“What is it?”

“Something with Spam in it,” you tell him, and Joel wrinkles his nose. “It tastes better than it looks.”

“Noted,” he grumbles, pressing one last kiss to your throat before he straightens, spine creaking as he goes. “Fuck, I’m getting old.”

“I think the grey in your beard suits you,” you answer, turning back to your maps, “just for the record.”

The corner of his mouth quirks as he heads for the fridge, fishing out the plate of food and leaning against the counter. “How was your day, baby?”

Your pencil drops again, and you push your chair back, the legs squeaking against the floor. You turn yourself towards him fully, slowly getting to your feet, taking a step towards him. “I made a friend.”

Joel’s brow quirks. You know a lot of people in the QZ, that much he knows for certain, but he’s really not sure how many of them you would refer to as friends. “Oh?”

“On the radio. His name is Frank.” You turn back to the maps, eyes raking over the paper, your finger finding a spot marked with pencil. “He lives in Lincoln, and we’re gonna go see him in three days.”

He nearly drops the plate. “What?”

“I mapped out the path. It’s a bit of a hike, almost five hours outside of Boston, but—”

“Ten miles?” Joel repeats, and you just nod. “Liv, we’ve barely been outside the city limits, and you wanna hike ten miles to some random stranger?”

“Frank,” you say, your tone almost petulant, and Joel puts the plate down. “They have food, Joel. Real food, not bullshit QZ rations. Wine, weapons, building materials. New clothes. This could be good for us, Joel. Really good.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “You want me to hike five hours for wine?”

“I want you to hike ten miles for a chance at something good, Joel. Something new.” Your gaze drops and you knot your hands together. “Something to make up for what we did, maybe. Somehow. I don’t know. I just…I feel good about this, baby. And it’s just a meeting, to start. I didn’t promise him anything, just that we’d meet, and we’d talk. Then we go from there.”

Something in your voice tugs at him, and for a moment, Joel’s not quite sure what it is, but then it hits him.

It’s hope. It’s the most hopeful you’ve sounded in a long time, and when you take another step toward him, he opens his arms to you.

“The route will take us right past Cumberland Farms,” you continue, and Joel cups your hip in his palm, letting out a quiet oomph as you lean against him, reaching up to twine your arms around your neck. “We can stop there first, stash some stuff just in case.”

“A safety net,” Joel says, and you nod.

“Exactly.”

“You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“You were asleep for a long time,” you reply, and Joel just scoffs, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Wait,” you pull back, moving one hand to the middle of his chest, pushing lightly. “Is that a yes?”

“Well, I’m not about to let you go by yourself now, am I?”

+

It’s a long fucking hike.

Thankfully, it’s relatively easy. The path you’d chosen isn’t overly adventurous, no daunting hills or thick forests. It’s mostly open air, rolling fields, forests either side of the roads. The weather is beautiful, which is a plus, though you can feel the sweat pouring down your back as you walk, on the right side of Joel, as always.

You recount the entire conversation you had with Frank to Joel as you walk. Tess had offered to come with you, too, but you decided the two of you would go for the first meeting, and if things worked out, then you’d all go together the next time. You could tell part of her was relieved, and she admitted to you later she had plans to see Robin the same day you were going.

“You got instinct, baby,” Joel tells you after you’ve finished the story, your fingers twined together as he pulls you out of the path of a fallen telephone wire in the middle of the road. “Don’t forget that. I’ve seen it; you know what you’re doing. And if you feel good about this, then I’m game. We see what happens. And if anyone tries to lay a hand on you—”

“Hit ‘em real fuckin’ hard with my bat.”

He grins. “That’s my girl.”

The praise makes your chest warm, and when he’s close enough, you slide yourself against him, slipping your arm around his waist, tugging his around your shoulders. “Your wife is a badass, Joel Miller,” you say, and he barks a laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “In case you weren’t aware.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, his brows lifting. “Believe me, I’m aware. It’s fuckin’ hot. Only reason I married you.”

Now you’re the one that laughs, sliding your hand into his back pocket and squeezing his ass through his jeans. “Jackass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, and squeezes your shoulder, turning his head to kiss the top of your head. “Liv, baby?”

“Mmm?”

“When we get back to Boston, I’m gonna try and talk to Tommy. Make peace or somethin’.”

You nearly stop dead in your tracks. In fact, if Joel wasn’t still walking with his arm around you, you might have fallen over. But you don’t let your shock be known, schooling your face as neutral as possible while letting one brow raise. “Oh, really?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and I just…He’s my baby brother. He’s a fuckin’ idiot, and he’s gonna get himself killed, but he’s family. And we keep going for family, so I gotta fix it. Somehow.”

Slowly, you nod. “You think he’s gonna tell the Fireflies about me?”

“I’ll break his fuckin’ nose if he does.”

“Joel.” You smack at his chest. “That’s not how you fix it.”

“I know, I know. It’s…” Joel shakes his head. “I want to believe he won’t. I really do.”

“So talk to him,” you say with a nod. “See what happens, go from there, and please, just don’t fucking hit each other.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You continue on, the sun beating down on your every step. There’s not much more conversation, but the silence is easy, a comfort. Joel doesn’t let you wander far, you eventually step out of his grip but your hands are still linked together.

Your stop at Cumberland Farms is brief. In the early days, you brought a stash box to the gas station, tucked it below one of the floor panels. You and Joel mostly empty your packs into the box, some ammunition, a spare knife, food that’ll last a good while. A backup. You pull one of the long-empty freezers over the panel, try to make the trash and debris cover it up, just to be safe. Joel gives you a nod of approval, and then you keep going.

Eventually, the tree-lined road gives way to open space. More hills, dips in the earth. Far in the distance, you see a plane broken in half on the hilltop — an emergency landing gone wrong — and your stomach rolls at the thought of what’s still up there.

But then you turn another corner, and it’s even worse.

Beside you, you hear Joel’s quiet shock. “What in the…?”

You grip his hand tighter, pushing yourself against him, tearing your eyes from the sight before you. “I thought he was lying.”

Joel’s head whips in your direction. “What? Who? You knew about this?”

You swallow hard around the lump that’s formed in your throat. “Early days, after the outbreak. Like, the week after, FEDRA swept through the small towns and evacuated them. Told people they were going to a QZ. And they were, if there was room. If not…” You tilt your head towards the pit.

“How did you know? You’ve been out this way?”

“Never this far,” you answer, shaking your head. “Nick, he…he told me about it.” Joel stiffens, and you squeeze his arm. “He wasn’t part of it, but he knew soldiers that were. It wasn’t just here; it was all over. Across the country. Who fucking knows how many people FEDRA killed.”

“I just don’t get why.”

“Better dead than infected.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, and pulls you closer, turning you away from it. Not that it makes a difference; you know you’ll be seeing the half-buried skeletons, the scraps of clothing and the scattered belongings, in the back of your mind for a long time. “Maybe there’s a path through the forest.”

You shake your head. “Just keep going.”

“Liv—”

“Keep going, Joel.”

So you do. You try to bury the sight, try to push it away, try to focus on where you’re going instead.

It’s like you turn the corner, and all of a sudden, there’s a town right in front of you. A small town, to be sure, a handful of buildings, some that have seen better days, and when your eyes land on the nine-foot metal fence around the perimeter, Frank’s wavy voice on the radio echoes through your head.

We’re well-protected here.

He sure as hell wasn’t lying.

As you approach the fence, Joel situates himself in front of you, his expression wary, an arm held out, protector mode on. You get closer, and suddenly it strikes you that you have no idea what Frank looks like. You have no idea who you’re looking for.

But you’re pretty sure it’s not the large bearded man with the giant fucking gun pointed at your head.

Instantly, you’ve both got your hands in the air, Joel still a half step in front of you. “What do you want?” the man barks, lifting the gun a little higher, switching between aiming the barrel at your head and at Joel’s.

“We’re here to see Frank,” you say instantly, nearly tripping over the words. “I’m Liv, this is Joel. I spoke to Frank on the radio.”

“Oh my fucking…Bill, put the gun down!” another, strangely familiar voice shouts, and over the larger man’s — Bill’s — shoulder, you see a slightly smaller man, a touch taller than Bill, but thinner, his hair shorter, his beard a little more well-kept. He’s got a dishrag over his shoulder, and as he jogs up to Bill, pushing his partner aside and reaching for the gate before you, he grins at you.

The gun is lowered, but as Frank pulls the gate open, Bill pulls out the same bio-scanner machine you’ve seen FEDRA soldiers toting around back in the QZ, and your heart sinks into your toes.

“Would you put that thing away?” Frank chides, waving at Bill, beaming at you now as you take a hesitant step towards the now-open gate. “You must be Liv.”

His smile is infectious, and as Bill stows the scanner, your excitement returns. “Hi, Frank.”

“Come in, come in!” he says, and reaches for your hand, tugging you through. “You guys are just in time; lunch is almost ready. Right, Bill?”

“…yes.”

Joel’s a half step behind you now, his hand finding the small of your back as you walk through the gate completely. Bill sniffs as you step past, and closes the gate behind you both, hitting a keypad that emits a loud beep, the heavy sound of magnets slamming together.

You’re at a loss for words as you follow Frank down the street. It looks so…normal. So alive, so lived in. You’ve become so accustomed to abandoned buildings and broken windows; to be around buildings that look well taken care of, a house that looks like it belongs to someone, you’re at a loss.

“This place is beautiful,” you manage to say, picking up your pace to keep up with Frank. “It looks so…”

“Normal?” Frank asks, and you just nod, giving a little laugh. “Cookie-cutter? I know. It’s definitely grown on me.”

“You weren’t always here?”

“Oh, no, not always. It’s been about…three years now? Something like that?” He waves a hand. “We can talk more about that stuff over lunch. You two must be starving.”

You turn another corner, and the most beautiful house stands before you. Two stories, perfect white picket fence out front, planters filled with flowers lining the walkways, the hedges and lawn neatly trimmed. A US flag sticks out from the front of the house, the fabric billowing in the warm breeze, and you nearly topple over when you see the patio furniture set out, four chairs around a table, each place already set, wine in the middle, glasses at each spot.

You and Joel are frozen in place, but Frank continues on, stepping through the small gate in the fence and walking towards the table. Bill stalks past you, heading into the house, and Frank waves you on. “Come! Sit!”

Joel’s hand pushes against your back, his voice low in your ear. “You still feelin’ good about this?”

“Very,” you reply, and let him propel you forward slightly, unable to wipe the grin on your face as you walk towards the table.

You take a seat, Joel sliding into the chair next to you, and Frank produces a bottle of wine, filling the glass in front of you. Joel gives a little nod as Frank fills his glass, and you’ll be the first to admit you reach for the glass quickly, taking a long sip that tastes like heaven. You’ve never been a huge wine drinker; you indulged every once in a while before — the occasional glass if you were out for dinner, and your mom had a penchant for rosé — but this is good fucking wine.

“How long did it take you guys?” Frank asks as he fills his own glass, then the empty seat for Bill. “Easy travels I hope?”

“‘Bout five hours,” Joel answers as you take another sip. “No Infected, and the weather’s good.”

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Frank says, still beaming at you, and you’re smiling into your wine. “We’ll eat first, and then I’ll show you two around. Bill’s a bit…hesitant about the whole thing, but he’ll come around. He’s a big softie.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly. “Sort of.”

As if on cue, the front door opens, and Bill appears, calling Frank’s name. The taller man rises, jogging towards the door and when he turns back, he has two plates of food in his hands. It’s fine china, piled with steaming veggies and pieces of meat, actual fucking gravy and Bill has a bowl of dinner rolls tucked in the crook of his arm.

Frank sets a plate down in front of you, and for a second, you honestly feel like you could cry. “Oh my god, thank you.” Bill hands the other two plates to Frank, then disappears towards the house. Frank goes to follow, but then waves his hand at his partner’s back.

“He can handle the salad himself.” He settles into the seat across from you, gestures to the plate you’re still staring at. “Go ahead, eat! There’s more too, if you’re still hungry after.”

Joel wastes no time, but you wait for Bill to return, saying your thanks when he hands you a bowl of salad that looks fresh from the garden. Your mouth is watering. He just gives you a curt nod, sinks into the chair opposite of Joel, and pulls a handgun from the holster on his leg, setting it beside his plate. A warning, and you see Joel’s eyes dart to it before he glances at you. You sip your wine again, your hand finding Joel’s thigh beneath the table.

“Well, this is just incredible,” you say, breaking the awkward silence that’s settled. “Honestly, it’s just…it’s amazing, truly.”

“Right?” Frank agrees, giving you an almost conspiratorial grin. He picks up the wine bottle from the table, gestures to your glass. “Refill?”

“Please,” you say, holding your glass out.

Frank side-eyes Bill as he picks up the gun, pulling back the hammer with a quiet click. “Could you not, please? They’re our guests.”

Joel stares at the gun for a long moment before, “I’m the same way.”

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic, too?” Frank asks, and you have to stifle your chuckle, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spit wine.

Bill rolls his eyes. “I’m not a schizophrenic.”

Bill and Joel share another glance, and you take another sip of wine before clearing your throat. “Well, I just wanna say, uh, gun aside — which I get, for the record.” You squeeze Joel’s leg beneath the table. “You’re protecting your family. But this is just so nice, and so appreciated, to have a meal like this, in such a beautiful place. It’s been so long since things felt normal, and this…even if we don’t end up working together, I just…thank you. Both of you.”

Frank meets your eyes, holding his glass towards you. “We are working together.”

“We haven’t even—” you start, but before you can finish your sentence, Frank sets down his glass for a moment and gets to his feet, reaching for his glass and the bottle again.

“You know what?” he says, giving you a grin. “Let’s go inside. Liv, I wanna show you something.”

You feel Joel’s eyes slide back to you, his brow furrowed deeply, and you squeeze his leg one more time before you’re getting up. “Actually, I’m dying to see the inside.”

“Let’s go,” Frank continues, ignoring Bill’s protests. “Bring your wine.” As you follow him towards the house, he pauses to let you catch up, turning to you. “Like I said, he’ll come around, he just…takes a while.”

You can’t help your chuckle. “Reminds me of Joel.”

As you step inside the house, you’re at a loss for words. Antique furniture, beautiful paintings, and it feels like a home. A stark contrast to your apartment back in Boston, which has felt more and more like just a place to keep your stuff. Especially since Joel showed up; wherever he was, that was home.

You dance your fingers across the piano keys as Frank turns towards the dining room, a large mahogany table taking up most of the space, matching chairs, an old grandfather clock, a covered desk. You don’t have enough of a musical ear to know if the piano is still in tune or not, but then Frank calls your name, and you wander over, sipping your wine as you go, careful not to let it spill.

“This place is amazing,” you comment, and Frank grins, turning to rifle through one of the desk drawers. “Did you and Bill find this place? I’m shocked it’s in such good condition.”

“No, Bill has always lived here,” Frank answers, still searching for something. “I was heading for Boston, after the Baltimore QZ fell. There were ten of us originally, but by the time I ended up here, I was the only one left.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, almost a reflex, and Frank waves you off. “So, you and Bill…you found each other, in the middle of all this?”

He finds what he’s looking for, something concealed in his hand as he pushes the drawer shut, and the grin on his face as he straightens to look at you makes your chest warm. He’s just so charming, kindness radiating off of him in waves. You’re not used to it.

“We did,” he says with a nod, an almost dreamy look in his eye. “It’s hopelessly romantic, isn’t it? Must be the artist in me. And you should have seen this place when I first got here. At least an inch of dust everywhere you looked.”

“Bill’s not much a cleaner?”

“He’s practical, but he forgets to pay attention to things sometimes. But he’s learning.” He smiles. “We all are.”

You scoff a little laugh. “That’s a good way to put it.”

Frank holds the thing he’d fished out of the desk to you. “For you.”

Your jaw drops. Fleetwood Mac. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he laughs, putting the cassette tape in your hands. “It’s yours. Landslide is on side B.”

“Frank, I can’t—”

“You can,” he presses, chuckling at your protest. “A token of appreciation for travelling this far to meet with us.” Before you can refuse, Frank turns, refilling his glass where he’d set it on the table and sinking into one of the chairs. “Now, tell me how this works.”

+

The majority of the afternoon is spent following Frank around, him showing you the numbered but incredible sights Lincoln has to offer. It feels like stepping into a history book in the best kind of way, and that feeling of normalcy, the white picket fence only adds to it.

“So, how long have you and Joel been you and Joel?” Frank asks. You’re in the clothing boutique, poking through the racks of clothes. Frank told you to pick out an outfit, and you’re taking your choices very seriously, your mind torn between desperately wanting something cute while knowing you need something practical.

“Hah. It’s, uh, complicated?” you reply, your voice hitching on the word. You rub the sleeve of a green sweater between your fingers, savouring the softness. “We knew each other before the outbreak.”

Over the top of the rack, you can see Frank make a face. “That doesn’t sound that complicated.”

Before you know it, you’ve told him everything. It throws you, to trust someone this quickly. But, he invited you into his home, trusted you not to turn on him and his partner, his family. And that warmth he seems to radiate, it just adds to it all, making you feel like you’ve known him much longer than you have.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” he says after you’ve given him the whole story. “So you were together in 2001, then you moved to Boston, then shit hits the fan, you’re still in Boston, and Joel shows up five years later with his brother and another woman?”

You nod, flicking through a rack to find a pair of black jeans in your size. “Yes, Tommy and Tess.”

“And Joel and Tess were a thing when they first got to Boston?”

“Yes.”

“Then Tess broke it off with Joel, and you two got back together? And she’s one of your closest friends?”

You nod again. “Yes.”

“And Tommy is…?”

You sigh. “Tommy is even more complicated. I think I’d need another bottle of wine before I even start talking about Tommy.”

Frank grins. “All the more incentive for you to come back.”

“As if I’m not already convinced.”

Outside the boutique, you can hear Joel calling your name. You glance at your watch. “Shit. We probably need to start heading back.”

“Take those,” Frank says, gesturing to the jeans in your hands. He has the green sweater you’ve decided on in his hands. “I told Bill to pack up some food for you too.”

You head out of the boutique and towards the gate, and as you approach, Joel and Bill walk out of the house, Joel’s bag slung over his shoulder, looking a bit fuller than it had when you arrived. He hands you your own bag, and Frank hands you the sweater as you crouch down to stuff the clothes in your bag. “You’re sure about this?” you ask, pulling the Fleetwood Mac cassette out of your back pocket.

“Of course,” Frank answers. “Don’t think of it as a gift. You’ll come back in a few weeks, and we’ll trade. 

“We will. And I’ll bring Tess, like I said.”

“Oh,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at Joel and Bill, who have stopped a good ten feet behind you, “and I had this idea, that we should use codes for the radio. Y’know, just in case someone’s listening. I know you were worried, the first time we talked.”

You nod. “That’s a great idea. What kind of code are you thinking?”

“Music,” he grins. “Sixties, seventies, eighties. We’ve got this book on Billboard hits we could give you. Sixties if there’s nothing new, seventies if we’ve got something new, eighties if there’s trouble.”

“Eighties for trouble,” you repeat, nodding again. “I like that.”

“Good,” Frank says, and you get to your feet. “I gotta say, Liv, I felt good about this before, but now? It’s nice, so nice, to have new friends.” He reaches out, puts his hand on your arm. “And yes, before you try and deny it. That’s what we are.”

You can’t help your grin. “Friends.”

He grins back. “Friends.”

Joel and Bill have been talking the entire time you have, and when you glance back, you see Joel heading toward you, squinting in the sunlight. “Ready?” he asks as he comes to stand beside you, his hand finding the small of your back again, and you nod. He turns to Frank. “Thank you, for the lunch, and for…” He trails off, gesturing to you. “We needed this.”

Joel and Frank shake hands, and after, Frank pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders. “See you soon.”

+

You get back to the QZ late. You’re both exhausted, worn out by the hiking and the sun and the abundance of food. You’re both drooling over the leftovers Bill and Frank sent you home with, and as soon as you’re through the door to the apartment, Joel pulls out one of the containers, and you eat it with your fingers standing over the sink, both of you laughing at the absurdity of your day.

The next morning, Joel goes looking for Tommy.

Unsurprisingly, his brother has skipped out on his job for the umpteenth time, so as soon as morning curfew has passed, Joel heads into the city, and starts combing the buildings he knows are Firefly hideouts. The third building he’s poking around, and he’s stopped by a woman. She seemingly materializes out of the alleyway, arms crossed over her chest, dark hair tied back. She calls him by name, and Joel freezes.

“You won’t find him,” she says, her voice deeper than Joel is anticipating. “Tommy’s not here.”

Joel turns slowly, regards the woman as she steps out of the alley. She’s dressed the same as everybody else is, clothes that have seen better days, boots wrapped with duct tape. “You must be Marlene.”

“Guilty,” she answers.

“Where’s my brother?”

She looks down at the pavement, digs her toe into the asphalt. “Tommy left this morning.”

Joel’s stomach twists. “Left? What d’you mean, left?”

“I stationed him at our base in Minneapolis,” she says, and Joel’s heart stutters. “He left with a few other men this morning.”

His hands clench into fists. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I know how you feel about the Fireflies, Joel,” Marlene continues, and the edges of Joel’s vision tinge red. “Tommy told me. And I understand why you would have your…reservations. But your brother just wants to do some good.”

“My brother is a fucking idiot,” Joel spits. “Is that what you told him? That blowing shit up and killing soldiers was good?”

“We’re doing more than that,” Marlene starts, “and Tommy understands that. He knows what he signed up for.”

“Does he?” he replies, and his voice is climbing. There’s a handful of people out on the sidewalks, and some throw glances in his direction. “You turned him against his family. Against his own brother.”

“I didn’t turn him against you, Joel. Tommy made a choice.”

Joel shakes his head. He’s shaking with anger, confusion, fear — every emotion crawled up the back of his throat and making a home there. “That’s a load of shit.”

Marlene digs in her pocket and extends a folded piece of paper toward him. “This is the radio frequency for the base in Minneapolis. Give it a day or two, then try and get through. I know your wife works the radios, she shouldn’t have any problem reaching him.”

He just stares at her, eyes darting between her face and the piece of paper. But finally, the desperation that’s been added to the mix wins out, and he snatches the paper. “If he dies, it’s on you. I’m not responsible for what happens after that.”

“If he dies, I’ll await your wrath, Joel.”

Before he can do anything more, she turns on her heel and disappears, leaving Joel in the alleyway, alone.

PREV | NEXT

🍓in case tumblr eats the ending🍓

#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

[elejah-wonderland]

_elejah au

Love is in the Air

_tvd fanfic_Part 1

a/n: this is a light-hearted, romantic little story.

*

New Orleans

"I am all packed" Elijah said to his sister Rebekah on the phone.

"Why Rome?" the blonde asked.

"I just had this idea for my next book. And I need to go there to get the feel of the city, do some research at the archives." Elijah said.

"So, it's going to be another murder mystery with historical background?!" Rebekah stated.

"Burning Wings was such a great success and now they want me to write a sequel," Elijah said, "and a couple of nights ago I had a dream that kind of set this idea in my head to put the plot in Rome."

"Well, I hope it will not all be work- after your divorce you have done nothing but work."

"I plan to take time off and enjoy the city. Stefan is gone with Valerie to visit his brother and his wife Rosalie in Amesterdam and I got his apartment for a whole month." Elijah explained.

Rebekah sighed a little as her brother mentioned her ex-boyfriend Stefan Salvatore.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him."

"It's ok. I just- it will always be hard cuz- you know - I messed ut up and now- ok- right. When is your flight?" Rebekah asked.

"Tomorrow morning. I will call you when I get there." Elijah replied.

"All right. Have a great time. And try not to just work." Rebekah said and with a little bye and Elijah's promise that he will also take time to enjoy his holiday, they hung up.

Pressing the search button, the latest articles with the news popped up. And the picture of the woman he had met ten years ago as he visited his sister, who was studying in the prestige old private  Mystic Falls College for liberal arts, now stared at him.

His eyes smiled seeing the photo, which was clearly from one of her premieres as she was a famous actress.

And then he saw the article headline.

Elena Gilbert rumored to be secretly engaged to Mason Wood.

Elijah sighed a little and not reading further, swiped the page off and went to a subject he was interested in.

*

In Florence, Italy

Elena walked in her hotel room followed by her personal assistant  and manager, Jo Parker.

"Thank God today was the last day of the shoot. Can you please reschedule everything  for at least a week?!" Elena said."I am so going away and I don't want to know about anything. Please."

"All right. So, what shall I book you? Bali?"

"No. I already made my own arrangements." Elena said.

"What? I didn't want to ask - but - are you seeing  Mason again?" Jo asked.

"No. Well, we hooked up again- and that's all" Elena replied waving away with an insignificant huff.

"Right. Do you want me to say something about the non-engagement? It's all over the internet"

"No. Just leave it. It will blow over. Especially when they soon see him with Erin." Elena explained.

"Erin Lindsay? Seriously?" Jo now asked.

"A couple of days after our hook up I saw him with her all lovey at the same hotel." Elena said followed by a little sigh.

"Oh, sweety - you still thought that -"

"Yeah- I kind of thought that maybe the hook up would be - but things were over with us ages ago- I don't know why I  thought that there - and I am not even in love with him really - anyway, enough of it."

"Where are you going?" the manager asked.

"Rome." Elena replied.

"Rome?" Jo was surprised.

"Yes. And I am going incognito. I got Francesca's keys to her apartment. I need to get away from everything and everyone. Take a week off- maybe two." Elena replied.

"Ok. I have something for you to read. Liv is still negotiating to get the rights to do a movie, but it's nearly in the bag and Tristan is very interested in producing this," Jo now got a book out of her bag, adding,"it's a historical thriller and you would be playing Angel, she is a 15th century librarian, who investigates a murder involving an ancient curse. The book was No.1 everywhere!"

Elena took the book and looked at it, muttering,"Elijah Smith?" and then turned the book around. The face on the back now made her heart jump.

"Interested? The book is really good - there are so many twists and turns - I could not put it down till I finished it. There is a very ambiguous cliffhanger at the end - and apparently there is going to be Burning Wings 2- Elena?"

"Ha? What?" Elena now snapped out of her momentary daze.

"Interested?"

"Yeah" Elena said breathing in a gulp.

Jo smiled a little, gathering why Elena got a tad bit taken in.

"He is such an eye-candy, right?"

"Yeah" Elena said and put the book down on the table.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," Elena replied, "ahm- I want to go shower and I think I will hit the bed."

"All right. I will see you at breakfast? Shall I rent- a- car for you?"

"Yes, please. Thanks, Jo. Sorry, I am just so wasted."- Elena now said rubbing her neck a bit.

"I know. Don't worry. Ok. See you in the morning." Jo said and then taking her bag from the chair left the actress's room.

As the door clicked on the way out, Elena now shot a look at the book, flashing back to the past.

Flashback

Ten years back

"May I?" Elijah asked politely for the seat on the bench.

"Yes" Elena said removing the books so the man could sit down.

"Maybe it appears odd that I want to sit here though the other bench over there is empty, but it's too exposed on the sun and it's such a great shade here under this oak" Elijah said as he sat down.

"Yeah- it's crazy hot today," Elena replied,"and it's only May"

Elijah's eyes now descended on one of the books - "Roman Tragedy", and then a guide book on Rome. "Ah, Rome - such a great city."

Elena now swayed her look from her book she was reading.

"Have you been there?"

"Yes, last summer. With my sister Rebekah and my brother Kol." Elijah replied.

"Rebekah is your sister?"

"Yes. I am here to meet her. And she specificly said  - to be at the White Oak Tree. She is running late. You know her?" Elijah explained.

"We are in the play together." Elena replied.

"Oh, really? She didn't say anything about it. Is she any good?"

Elena nodded a little.

"Not that great, ha?"

"She is, and she could be excellent, but she seems not to care that much. Ok, I shouldn't  saybanything really."

"Oh, you're ok. She is my sister and I love her, but I know what she is like. She excels only at things she really is passionate about, and if she is not - well, she can be superficial."

"Yeah" Elena slipped.

"She wants to be a designer, she told me and I saw some of her designs - and they are amazing. Her show is the evening. But I guess, you know that?!" Elena said.

"Yes, that's why I am here." Elijah now said.

He then saw Rebekah approaching and he stood up. And just before he went to his sister, he turned to the brunette, introducing himself, "I'm Elijah."

"I'm Elena." the woman said.

_to be continued

#elejah #elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #alternative universe #tvd au #elena and elijah #tvd imagines #fanfiction #part 1 #love is in the air #book cover designed by me #aka elijah smith

[xo-zizi]

You not a real bitch if you can’t stand in your hate for a real reason and not lies. Erica Vain spent her old videos hating how Olivia would hide the truth or not take accountability. And now she’s spending her new videos hating that Liv’s speaking the truth and taking accountability by saying Liv has had no growth. Are you fucking stupid?? Olivia’s arc is fantastic for that exact reason. No one on this show has grown more than her. She learnt the truth about Garrett and exposed him in the best way she could to protect Spencer and Jordan. Then when she claimed her name for the award, she accepted accountability for the part she had to play in hurting the rest of the football team. Hell, there’s growth alone in her actively seeking out Spencer and Jordan to give them a heads up about writing the article, when it would come out and claiming her name for the award. As opposed to how she acted in season 3 with the Tamika case and completely blind sided Laura. There’s growth in her traveling to a whole other country ALONE for months as someone who canonically spent the earlier parts of this show feeling alone, unseen, and suffering from the silence that comes with it to the point it drives her to use and abuse substances. Her entire storyline has done nothing but shown growth in Olivia. If you hate her then whatever but let’s not lie??? I hate Asher. Like I’ve said before I’ll never like Asher Adams but I’m not gonna sit here and pretend that he hasn’t grown since season 3. College coach Asher>>> high school douche Asher. I can acknowledge his growth and still not like him cuz I’m a real bitch. Erica can’t say the same

#all american #olivia baker #spelivia #samantha logan #saying Olivia hasn’t grown is crazy

[palettepainter]

One of the biggest issues with Hired Sparky taking so long is that I have SO many story ideas for Liv that take place after HS that I can't post yet till that story is out. I've got like four WIP's alone for small, short stories focusing around Liv and the band/one of the band members. It'll probably be a while till these stories see the light of day, but I've been working on some of them while I've been up at work when the laser is cutting and this particular part from one story (with Liv and Teeth as the two main leads) I wanna share cuz it made me laugh while writing it:

He heaved a long, dramatic sigh, lifting a hand over his heart with a solemn shake of his head. Liv raised a brow, while Teeth fought to restrain a smug grin “Our most melancholy trumpet man is heavily distressed at your unforeseen passing”

“My what?” Liv asked suddenly, eyes squinted, not sure if she heard him correctly “Does-...Does Lips think I’m dead?” She hadn’t even been gone from work half a day yet

#Muppets #The Muppets #Muppet OC #Liv #Teeth #Story #The electric mayhem #Electric mayhem

[ac-liveblogs]

I have never played Genshin before but my whale friend has been talking to me about the Jeht storyline! Jeht has a compelling storyline from what I’ve been told but apparently Jeht is an npc??? Which was shocking to me cuz…Jeht’s questline as of right now seems to be written for her to be playable one day??😮 (to me at least)

Like, many other gacha games would have a well written event/story that compels players to roll for them (Salieri FGO, Ebenholz Arknights, Liv: Empyrea PGR, Nehan GBF are the ones that I think of where the story emotionally moved me enough to try to obtain the story-centric characters)

Anyway! My point is that the Genshin writing team’s priorities are so…wack to say the least.

Oh yeah, for SURE. Jeht isn't even the only NPC that gets these extended storylines (longer and more developed than any playable character!) - there's Kazari from the Sakura Cleansing Storyline, or Rana and Arana from Aranyaka, or Ruu from the Thunderbird stuff, or I guess anyone from either of the Watatsumi questlines?

And it''s bonkers! Genshin's sales pitch for Keqing, one of two standard banner characters to get her own rate-up banner, was her showing up at the tail-end of the Liyue questline and immediately getting folded into the Traveller's Cheer Squad when they bought time for Ningguang to nuke Osial.

Cyno's personal story quest is about some other guy mourning his dead son, and Cyno is not the one that has an emotional connection to ANYTHING happening in that quest. Nilou's is about some Akademiyan girl and her father reconciling. Ayato's is about two randos wanting to get married. Eula's dumps her halfway through to focus on us dealing with her uncle? I don't know??

You do get the sense that Genshin is really, really not interested in their main playable cast - either that, or there are serious restrictions placed on which characters can be used for what. My pet theory as to why a large chunk of playable characters in Sumeru, Inazuma and Liyue are so distant from the plot is that the writers don't know everyone they'll be able to use. So in Sumeru, a writer might know they can definitely use Al-Haitham, Nahida and Scaramouche but don't know about anyone else, so they vaguely script the plot with "placeholder" characters they can slot into place once it comes time to finalise the draft.

That's why Cyno, Candace, Dehya, Nilou and Tighnari do shockingly little in the Sumeru questline when you actually stop to consider what it is they contribute that is unique to them, when compared to Al-Haitham. Why'd we gaslight some random NPC into betraying the Akademiya in part 2 instead of Cyno? Who knows? Did they know Cyno would be usable when they needed to script that part, did they know if his model would be ready?

But on the other hand, world quest writers can snag a pre-existing model, write whatever they want and do whatever they want. That's my best theory for the discrepancy! That might explain why Ganyu and Keqing did fuck all in the Liyue world quest...? Shrug???

Anyway, I've never really played a game with a story handled in such a batshit way as Genshin before. In so many ways.

#ac plays genshin impact #replies

[crimson-calligraphyx]

Sorry if I made y’all cry

I got emotional writing it, too, cuz I was putting myself in Liv’s shoes and I’ve been there lolol

#personal #I was actually dating the alcoholic tho so I guess I was really in Noah’s shoes? idfk #maybe I was in both their shoes

[liviavanrouge]

Minako: Hey liv…

Everything around Minako starts to decay as a result of her magic going out of control.

Minako: *smiles* It seems that ancestor of yours has taken my baby brother Baelfire away.

Minako: I need you to help me find him. Cuz if you don’t, I don’t know if I can control myself from destroying the entire island.

Livia: *Grabs her musket*

Shadie: *Snarls and grows to the size of an elephant, Livia leaping up onto his back*

Livia: Let's go hunting

@anxious-twisted-vampire @yukii0nna @writing-heiress @marrondrawsalot @abyssthing198 @zexal-club

#disney twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst disney #livia vanrouge #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland disney #twst livia

[skyliv]

1, 3, 12 for the ask game!! (@raylex)

HIP HIP HOORAY LETS GET TO IT!! TYSM!

1. what are the basics of your self insert? name, date of birth, height, etc.?

im a bit extra cringe so she is... literally just me but older..

Lucielle Lakes, uhh around 5'3", around 24-28 years old, and just looks like me! wont describe that here cuz i'll probably get embarrassed 😋

3. how do the other characters generally feel about your self insert?

a good majority of the other workers at alchemax just think she's some new worker, and just see her as a sweet help, but outliers like Fisk and Johnathan Ohnn know where she came from. with Ohnn in mind, i think they'd get along nicely! albeit slowly because both cant understand social cues for shit but he already reminds me an irl friend of mine soo..,,

long story short they see her as a strange kitten who liv plucked from the side of the road /lh

12. how would the fandom view your character?

so... absolutely woobified. like "smol bean" "cinnamon roll" style

ow that hurt to write but nah theyd probably call her a pushover

#selfship ask game #ask game #🪶skyliv🧪

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

Hi!!! How are you? I hope you had a nice day!For the sleepover night:

I would like some song recs, please!!!!

Also, please, rant about your favourite character/ curent writing project!

Hiii! I’m fine, my day has been a bit boring but nothing too bad😊

Well, for the songs my first recommendation is gonna be Olivia Rodrigo new single “Vampire” I’m obviously biased cuz I love Liv and everything she writes but it’s a really great song!

Also, recommending “Fictional” by Khloe Rose, it’s song that became popular on tiktok but I mean… it’s such a relatable song for those who are obsessed with fictional characters! On a side note, she also has another song called “The Other POV” which is good too!

And as a sad songs lover I’ll recommend “House with no mirrors” and “Dancing with your ghost” by Sasha Alex Sloan.

About my favorite character… they always end up killing them somehow I really loved Eddie, I thought it was a great addition to Stranger Things. Josep Quinn made an incredible job, but the Duffer Brothers love to introduce likeable new characters, make you love them, then they kill them off. It’s been a year and still hurts.

It happened the same with Harry Potter… I loved the twins, they were fun, they were that kind of people you want to be friends with, and I was so pissed when JK decided it was a good idea to kill Fred… I was even more pissed when she went on twitter years later and she said she regretted killing him….Like, ma’am you wrote the fucking book!! You could have killed Percy (no hate I just don’t like him and I wouldn’t have cared if he died)

My current writing project… I wrote about it the other day, I think? It’s about Y/N and Ben breaking up two weeks ago and then she goes to a party (her friend dragged her there, she didn’t wanna go) and she sees Ben there with girl by his arm… She’s sad and angry, so she goes back home and gets drunk and leaves him a very embarrassing voicemail that she will regret next morning.

Also I have the jealousy fic coming out next week👀

And I think that’s everything… Honestly I could rant about the characters topics for hours but let’s not gonna go there

SLEEPOVER NIGHT

#answered #ask games

[tempural]

So we did a mini-marathon of rich teen movies.  Clueless and Heathers.  Not my favorite genre of movies, but very inspiring cuz I have NO idea how upper class people behave.  Either they’re actually evil goblin capitalists like Norman, or they’re weird needy mean girls.  

Like Harriet!  She’s got her padded power shoulders ready to take up maximum hallway space, the femme equivalent of man-spreading thy thighs.  And she would absolutely get mugged while trying to buy party drugs.  Don’t mind Liv in a Heathers outfit.  She’s a gorl scout like Piper and gets to get bullied by a rich friend too :)

Spoilers for Clueless and how I got absolutely punched in the taint out of nowhere by the canon relationships under the cut:

No one told me how WEIRD and EFFED up the family dynamics in Clueless are?!?  I thought it was just another teen movie, but it has the main girl tongue punching her step-brother’s tonsils?!  And acknowledging that it’s effed up by making a joke about how they’re not in the south and she’s underage so they can’t get married?!  

(Guess that kinda mirrors how Norman wants to be a weird mentor-father figure for Peter, yet also writes love letters to him in his diary.  And also Harry constantly calling Pete “we’re brothers” or “like family”, yet clearly Harry is super gay for Peter.  Osborns are effed up man.)

Okay AND the main character in Clueless is her dad’s daughter-wife and he literally calls her a replacement for his wife taking care of him by organizing his meds and keeping track of his nuitrition?!  90′s was weird, man.  Or maybe rich people are weird.  They do weird things to keep their “royal bloodline” in the family....

#clueless #heathers #liv #harry osborn #spidergoblin #spider gorls #norman osborn #peter parker #parksborn #sketchbook

[rahleeyah]

So I read a lot of fic lol and one of the things I find so funny is that authors either write that Liv still can’t cook a thing and still gets takeout for everything or they’ll say she had to learn for Noah’s sake and now she’s actually a decent cook. (And as someone who now lives alone and had to grow up and figure some shit out and has actually gotten pretty good at cooking now if I do say so myself it really isn’t that hard so I’m usually team liv figured out how to use her kitchen for Noah’s sake)

Anyways I always have this head canon (that I’ve never wrote out but maybe I should) that when liv got Noah she got a phone call from Nick’s abuelita who was like “my Nicky tells me you have a baby and you cannot cook anything” 😂 and then Liv goes to her house and learns how to cook. And probably Barba’s mom and Mrs. Carisi teach her some things too cuz I want to believe they shared more time together than could be shown on screen.

Anyways I’m thinking about this mainly because there’s been some fics from Mrs. McCann’s POV and obvs she’s an excellent cook. And that’s not to say liv doesn’t get takeout often I’m sure she still does but I mean she’s also an adult with a child I’m sure she learned how to make some meals😂

You mention food a lot regarding svu and how it was nice in 1.0 when the characters sat down to meals together and how it made them very human which I totally agree with so I was wondering if u had any thoughts?

Have a great day!! Happy L&O Thursday!! ❤️

I love this so much thank you friend!!

So the thing is like. 1.0 Liv doesn't ever cook, it's established there's no food in her fridge, she's always getting delivery. There's a scene early in s13-14 where she is actively trying to cook at home when Nick brings her bad news and she throws her half cooked dinner in the sink, as if she no longer has the strength to keep trying (or as if she no longer thinks she deserves it, but that's another post). By s15 she is throwing dinner parties, of the manic kind (@calliopecantaloupes being of course the expert on the trauma response dinner parties). When Noah is going thru his particularly unbearable phase we see Olivia actually making dinner for him and trying to get him to eat his vegetables.

So my theory is that Liv always knew how to cook in theory, but never spent the time on it in practice. When you're just cooking for one delivery is so fucking easy, and she's barely ever home, why bother? I live alone and I love to cook and I'm pretty good at it and I know a lot about it and I cook once a week on Sundays and heat up leftovers or order in every other night of the week. It's not lack of knowledge that held her back, it was lack of need. She just didn't have to.

Now we know Cassidy cooks, at least a little, and cooking with someone is a special kind of intimacy, and I like to think he taught her some recipes. But then he's gone. But then she has a baby.

And Olivia is devoted to being a Good Mom. She sings to Noah she's working with him on his speech she's buying him all the little toys and outfits and trying so fucking hard. I absolutely think Liv started to cook more - not learn to, bc she already knew how, but started to actually do it - bc she had a child and feeding her child is important emotionally and practically.

But she took the boy to get shake shack this season, she is not above a return to her old ways lol

But I love your thought bc I love the idea of all these older women who are tangentially connected to Liv - Nick's mom even looks after Noah! - taking her under their wing and I love the idea of Noah growing up in this rich and varied quasi family with influences from multiple cultures/traditions, not being any one thing but being deeply loved.

But I do think Elliot can't really cook (beyond one or two set meals like spaghetti or whatever) and if I see one more fic that treats cacio e pepe like it's a fancy complex dish that Elliot "learned" how to cook while he was in Italy I am going to start biting people

#anonymous #e.o asks #s.vu

[ginnyrules27]

Mop hallway and bathroom, snippet of each main fic (if there's nothing for ToF cuz of the update today, do something we haven't ever seen like the liv and maddie crossover! or an old wip! maybe a cut scene from another fic or something?)

(Okay I'm going to be honest--SToF and CLi are both about to be published so I'm going to try to find snippets from fics that haven't been seen for those two :D)

"Likewise Cap," Stark nodded and brought the faceplate up so everyone could see his smirk. "I had JARVIS draft up a quick suit as soon as the APB went out on you. I knew America's Boy Scout couldn't have done anything too bad to warrant S.H.I.E.L.D trying to arrest him."

"Plus Stark knew most of our secrets from when he hacked in on the helicarrier during the Loki incident," Clint snarked. "I think the fact that I fought with him during New York was the only reason I wasn't knocked on my ass by his repulsor blasts when he picked me up—and would you put me down!"

-Teamwork Makes The Dream Work (an old WIP Captain America Winter Soldier AU fic that never really got past the first chapter)

Ben paced his room, looking at the bag that sat on his bed. He’d be all set for books for where he was going. Sure the Isle would have a library like the one they had in Auradon but what if they didn’t have his favorites? 

-Untitled Descendants fic (I'm pretty sure the idea was Ben was going to go live on the Isle because he blamed himself for Belle's miscarriage but I never got around to writing more than a few words)

The sudden stop causes both of us to lurch forward and I grab Ziggy before his head makes contact with the wooden floorboards. Despite the lack of windows this wagon has, I know where we are. It’s the border stop between New York and Canada. Both Pa and I hate this part of the trip the most, and I think our shared hatred is the only thing we have in common. Even though we’ve never had a problem before, there’s always the fear that an unfamiliar customs agent will start asking too many questions. 

-Whiskey and Pistols (an original short story from college I keep toying with editing)

It had been an interesting year or so getting used to the new dynamic but Mal was just glad that Harry was okay with it. She knew he could be particularly stubborn if he had to be and if there was anyone on the Isle who hated change more than Harry, Mal had yet to meet them. 

-Half and Half (chapter 35, currently 2769 words)

#responding to ask box #ask box #answering ask box #snippets