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towelpng · 8 months

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Haiii this is my oc (Rene Petit / Daughter of God) origin storyyyy :)

All events, characters, and places are made the fuck up <3

CWS: weapons, physical abuse, torture, blood/gore (?), tragedy, the occult, christian extremism (basically not christian at all, just christian themes), death, suicide, all around very un-fun topics

please let me know if i left any out !!

As a secondary disclaimer, this may be a not very fun read!!

oki enjoy!!

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Daughter of God

The meeting hall is an imposing building, too such a degree that I feel it necessary to check the signage in the tinted window. Sure enough, it reads simply “Life After Occultism”. I found the advertisement on a local page. A whole group about cult trauma? Sign me the fuck up.

I open the door, which obviously would have preferred I didn’t, given the grinding shriek its hinges released. It closes just as loudly, and the pristine white tile carries the sound down the hallway and back in what has to be my least favorite echo I’ve ever encountered. Unsurprisingly, the building is almost sterile. It did used to be a psychiatric institution, so I would expect no less in its glory days; but having been rented out sparingly for the last 30 or so years, I’d expected some level of dilapidation.

More laminated paper signs point arrows down the hallway, to an open set of double doors, not dissimilar to a high school gymnasium’s. As I approach, it’s already clear that the meeting started somewhat early. Several people are sat in chairs around the room, but most of the chairs are empty. Tables line the far back wall, dressed up in what appears to be birthday table cloths, held down by bins full of snacks and coolers of drinks.

“Hello,” I speak anxiously, finally catching the attention of the people in the chairs. “This, this is the… ex-cult thing?” I struggle to find the words among unfamiliar faces. A man in a brown suit nods affirmatively, a kind smile putting my nerves at rest, if only a little.

“Yes, it is. We start in,” He looks at his watch. “Oh!” He chirps. “Right now! If you’d like to take a seat…” He gestures widely, but gently, to the array of chairs. I thank him, and sit in a chair none too close to anyone else. A brief, awkward quiet falls over the group of what I have only just counted to be 8 people. 9 maybe, I’m not very reliable in terms of counting people. “Well, I, I suppose we start with you, miss.” He smiles warmly. “If that’s alright.” I nod nervously, and carefully and slowly remove an aged notebook from my bag.

“I have notes,” I chuckle nervously, and several others in the session return it with a sympathetic laugh. “Um, when I was growing up, my mom was in a cult, until I was 11, and she committed suicide. My dad was already dead by then, and my grandparents disowned her, so I basically got all of her stuff. Among that stuff was this notebook,” I drummed my fingers on it lightly, drawing the attention to the printed cover. “She liked faeries I guess. Before everything. Kind of hurts to look at.”

I hesitate a little here. I don’t talk about her often, and when I do, she’s a concept. Not a person. It feels strange to address her that way. I look up nervously, and make eye contact with the man in the brown suit again, then the blonde woman beside him. They share a similar complexion, and I wonder briefly if they’re related. She nods gently to me, affectionately.

“Um. The, the journal, has, a lot of weird stuff in it. It kind of goes off the deep end as soon as I’m born. Before that, it’s mostly just, teenager stuff I guess? Where teens will kinda revisit old journals every couple years.” I open it cautiously, and my stomach turns. Seeing her handwriting is almost sickening. A person, my mother, wrote these words with her hands. I get lost for a moment in the idea. I wonder if it was that dumb Dolphin pen that she was obsessed with, that never really worked, even when she replaced the ink cartridge.

“I could read it, if you like..?” The blonde woman offers gently, sympathy in her big brown eyes. “Only if you’re comfortable, I mean…” She trails off, looking away, then back to me. I grapple with the idea for a second, but give it to her, albeit holding on maybe a moment too long. She takes it gently, and doesn’t try to pull it away when I pause. She smiles at me again, and sits back slightly, holding the book up to read it.

“May 29th, 2003. It feels weird to hold this book now. My mom bought this when I was only 5, and now I’m writing in it on a desk attached to a hospital bed while my daughter sleeps just beside me! Rene Louise Holden, born May 28th, 2003 at 9:28PM, 8 pounds and 2 ounces. She’s the littlest thing I think I’ve ever seen! Her little feet are only as big as my pinkie! I was in labor for what had to be ages, I haven’t actually asked yet. For now, I think I’ll go back to sleep. It’s only 9am, and everyone’s saying to sleep when Rene does. So goodnight, Journal! I will see you soon!!”

The session livens up a little, with smiles and coos; none more genuine than the woman holding my mother’s journal in her aged, tan hands. This changes quickly.

“November 30th, 2003. I… I killed my baby today. I dropped her on the tile stairs. Her head hit right on the corner of one, and it collapsed in. I didn’t think that much blood could fit in a thing so little. It was everywhere. I could have identified her brain.” The woman paused a moment. “..I, I called an ambulance, and I opened the door for them. I knew she was dead, there was no use in trying to save her. But when we approached the stairs, there she sat at the bottom. She wasn’t happy about the strangers, but she looked just fine. The strangers weren’t happy about me. I’ll remember the judgement in their eyes as much as I’ll remember the blood in hers. It will kill me. They told me she’s fine, and checked her vital signs, but advised I take her to an urgent care soon. Soon. They said soon. I dropped my baby head first onto tile stairs, I slipped in her blood trying to reach my phone, and they said ‘Soon’. Like she scraped her knee. Journal, I worry about my mind. I don’t know if I’m cut out for motherhood. I feel like I haven’t been sleeping very well.” She turns the page with more urgency this time.

“February 3, 2005. It happened again. I was drinking, I know I shouldn’t. Rene was in the pool with us, in a pink flamingo pool float. We ran inside for only a minute, just to grab another drink. I thought someone stayed with her. It should have been me. She was upside-down when we came back out. And she was blue when we put her on the pavement.

“A miracle. That’s what they called it. They hardly touched her. They moved as though they would do CPR, but they never did. She just became pink again, and took a big breath. This time, they did take her to the hospital. No water in her lungs. No signs of hypoxia. Nothing. A miracle.”

She turns the page, and gently slides a news clipping from the paperclip.

“Uh… Oh.” She nods slightly, finding the relevance of the clipping, I guess. “Tragedy Strikes in Dosangels, Florida.

“This Monday, December 5th, local handyman David Holden fell from the roof of his home while putting up Christmas lights with his two year old daughter. His daughter had been strapped to his back, when he fell 26 feet on top of her, into their unused concrete swimming pool, which contained only 7 inches of water at its deepest. Miraculously, the infant survived the fall, but is in critical condition.”

She slips the paper back into its place under the paper clip.

“December 17th, 2005. The mortician says Dave was using again when he got on the roof. While Rene was in the hospital, Father Jaimes from the chapel visited us. I told him everything. He says Rene must be made for something great, and God will protect her. I told him I think Rene is cursed, and he didn’t make me feel evil for it in the slightest. He told me about Job, and how he was tormented by God to prove his devotion. He says I’m like Job, and must persevere. I feel like all I do anymore is persevere. I don’t know how to keep going. Dave is gone, and I won’t even be able to make rent. This was his house. His parents house. I cant afford it. I hope God does have a plan for us. Because I am lost.”

“November 7th, 2007. Jeremiah is moving in with us. His parents cut him off, and this is the first year he won’t even have Dave to help him. He and Dave were always close. He’s back on meth again, but he’s trying to get clean. He promised to get clean, and he goes to the detox place tomorrow. I could use the company.”

She turns the page, and is visibly disheartened as she pulls the news snippet from the paper clip.

“Miracle Baby Critically Wounded For A Second Time

“In 2005, she was crushed by her addict father when he fell off of the roof. This year, 4 year old Rene was shot by her uncle, Jeremiah Holden, who then shot himself. The murder suicide is…”

She turns the paper over, then turns it back over, and places it back under the paper clip. The mood in the room has soured considerably by now, but that’s what I’m here for, I guess.

“January 29th, 2008. Sepsis. Hospitalized.”

“January 14th, 2009. Father Jaimes has baptized Rene, after so many turns of her nearly going to Hell. My poor daughter, and her horrible mother. I will be baptized tomorrow, and God will save me too. I hope he can forgive me for my years of hubris and sacrilege, and my years of neglect to my daughter, my Rene. He let the holy water fill her lungs, and she breathed her first godly breath soon after. She looks to be glowing, she is a visage, the mother Mary surely felt as I do. Her eyes are blue, and reflect heaven unto us. May peace be with me, may she giveth as she taketh away, my Rene.”

“January 10th, 2010. Today was a day of great sacrifice and glory. God truly was with us, and with Rene. Lambs blood cleansed her holy skin, white as wool, and she breathed God’s child as He breathed Her. She first refused, and Satan had us in his grasp when She coughed and spit blood, but She was submerged and made whole nonetheless. My daughter, daughter of God and mine, His daughter and ours, my Rene.”

“May 27th, 2010. Today, before Rene becomes yet another year older, we try again tonight to send Her to sleep. In three days time, She will awake, and we will be saved. Her living blood will feed us, all of us, and Her internals will be laid bare to be judged. Our God, Her father, will guide us to ascension, and will save our miserable, undeserving souls. As Christ rose, so too will She, my Rene.”

“May 31st, 2010. God has abandoned us. All of us fell ill, with nothing to show a doctor nor a priest. We drained Her body wholly, from head to toe, of blood; and each organ was set separately of Her. She died only after we had removed Her heart, surely a sign. We drank the blood, as the disciples of Jesus once did, and it tasted of honey and vanilla. But we fell ill, and surely must have been poisoned. But doctors nor Father Jaimes found anything to be wrong. Her blood was taken from us, though She was not. Upon our return, She sat playing with the nativity dolls. She ordered them, mother Mary first, and baby Jesus Christ last. I wonder what this means for us. Rene, my Rene, please guide me.”

“December 5th, 2010. Father Jaimes laid bare to us his sins. He is a liar and a thief of the title ‘Father’, but I do not think of him this way. Anointed with holy blood collected from Rene’s own neck, Father Dresko beheaded Father Jaimes, and he was cremated promptly. May he follow us in our bodies, and be forgiven at Heaven’s gate. My Rene, show us how to proceed.”

“December 5th, 2014–“ The woman yelps and drops the book on her lap, the news clipping still in her hand. “Th..There’s blood, on.. On the page..”

“I can take it if—“

“No!” She cried sharply, then sighed shakily. “This is, it’s important. Right? It’s important…” She takes the notebook back in her hands, reading more quickly now.

“December 5th, 2014. My Rene, my God. Be with me in my final moments. My heart aches for you, for the trials you will face. I will see you at Heaven’s gate, and take you into my arms. You will be safe. But you must first save. Until we meet again, my Rene.”

The woman’s press-on nails scratch across the paper as she frantically places the news clipping where it belongs, giving the book back to me. The silence that fills the room is palpable, and it threatens to fill my lungs.

“Are you Rene..?” An older man asks me gently, his pale hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah, um. I just, didn’t actually die. I got lucky a lot, in a lot of situations I shouldn’t have been in.”

“Can I ask,” The man in the brown suit hesitates. “Can I ask where you went? After your mother..”

“Father Dresko adopted me. I wasn’t with him for really long, probably half a year, and he spent a week torturing me, held me hostage, and got shot by a police officer.”

“How could someone… I’m sorry, it isn’t my place. But.. How could someone do something like that, and not kill you…? If that was the intention, I mean.”

“He sucks at killing people, evidently.”

“Where did you go, after him?” The blonde woman rubs her arms in an effort to comfort herself.

“Karine Grienwilo. She was a saint, if anyone ever was. The type of woman who calls an anxious cashier ‘baby’ and fixes everything. Then I fucked everything up by going back. I made friends, Cameron Diniero tried to drown me and went to jail; Melina Fresno, Brady Harmin, and Jade Cabernaki threw me out of a car and almost under someone else’s car on the interstate and went to jail; Peter Ande and Jude Paton poisoned the church, Peter killed himself and Jude went to jail; and Sonia Wes committed suicide. Father Julio planned the poisoning and made it out easy, killed Jayla Barnes’ baby and she took the blame for it, then killed Karine in front of me.”

“Why would he do something like that?”

“To piss me off enough to get me to kill him. He thought it was the only way he’d go to heaven.”

A tense silence filled the room, but it felt more so that it was filled with unasked questions.

“Did you ever die?” A brunette woman asked. I hardly noticed her.

“Once. I got in a car accident. Semi slid on ice and cause a pile-up. I was the only one who lived.”

“How?” She asked tentatively, pulling at her sleeve.

“Luck, I guess.”

The man in the brown suit chuckled awkwardly.

“If anything, I’d call that a miracle.” I stared at him, and hoped he caught the message that the joke was in poor taste. He didn’t seem to. All at once, the fire alarms went off. As the group scattered, looking for the source of the fire, I stared out a narrow window in the emergency exit. Fire was already lapping at it. But just beyond it, the Sheriff’s van.

I waited until the only sound echoing in the tile and wood-paneled halls was the crackling and roaring of fire, and prepared for the worst walk of my life. The room I was in was full of smoke, but the openness of it ensured that only the walls and roof had caught.

I wake up in the car, taking a deep breath, and coughing. The cough is agonizing, and rips at my throat with all the ease of a sanding belt. Sheriff Petit sighed in relief, and I heard his head thump back on the headrest.

“Scared the hell out of me, rainy.”

“Sorry,” I croaked, but he cut me off with shushes, as he gave me an open bottle of water. I couldn’t help but gasp when the cold plastic touched my hands, searing pain shredding my palms.

“Right, shit,” He cursed under his breath, holding the bottle to my lips and pouring the water into my mouth. It was almost alien, I felt like my mouth was filled with sand, and it burned going down my throat. “How long does it take to clear up?”

“Um,” I sigh, my throat already beginning to heal. “It’s starting now, but it’ll take a few hours.”

We sit in silence, and I finally start to tune in enough to realize he’s driving.

“Hey Don?”

“Yeah, Ren?”

“How the fuck did you just give me water if you’re driving?” He laughed, loud and hearty.

“I stopped the car for a damn second,” He chuckled. “There’s a pedal for it—“

“Alright alright I get it.” My vision started coming back as my face healed, feeling less scaly by the second. I looked over at him, and could tell he’d been crying. “What’s up?”

He took a long moment to respond. I looked out the windshield, at the snowy landscape around us.

“I’m gonna miss you, rainy.”

“Cmon, I’ll visit! You’re basically my dad at this point. ..Like, my father figure, I’m not comparing you to—“

“I gotcha.” He paused again, but it was comfortable. Sad, sure, but comfortable. “It’s hard for me to just, drop you off someplace.”

“I’ll never get away from them if I stay here. They’ll always just bring someone new in.”

“I know. I just… I wish things were easier, I suppose.”

“Me too.”

The car slowed to a stop at a secluded, but obviously still functional, bus stop. We sat there for a while. There wasn’t much else to say.

“You’ll visit?”

“I swear to visit at least once a year.” He chuckles quietly, and pulls me uncomfortably over the console to hug me tightly. I squeeze him back as tight as I’m able.

“You better. I love you rainy. Stay safe out there.”

“I love you too, dad.” Before he got the chance to change his mind, I got out of the car and went to the bus stop, waving gently to him. He mouthed something that I could only guess was confirming I had my bus pass, and I held it up so he could see it. He nodded, and pulled off.

He was due to head to Texas.

And I’m due to get the fuck out of here.

#my ocs #rene petit #if you’re confused: good #this story is for me to know and me to know #also im outrageously high and it’s really late #creepypasta #creepypasta oc #cw everything #creative writing #girl wtf

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swordgayist · 3 years

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cultural appropriation in ATLA (hinduism edition)

i’m sure there’s already a ton of posts about this, but whatever, i’m still making one idc.

ATLA’s cultural appropriation, everyone knows about it, the white people don’t speak about it, and the asian and indigenous people get ignored. we know the cycle. but i wanted to come here and highlight some of the most prominent examples of ATLA abusing hinduism, as i am kinda sorta hindu (i was raised in a hindu household, i go to chinmaya mission, that kinda shit). i might forget some things so keep that in mind.

this is gonna be divided into 3 main sections, since there are different ways that they disrespect hinduism that i don’t wanna lump together.

and i’d say i know a lot about hinduism but that doesn’t make me an expert, obviously, so if other hindus have anything to add and/or correct then please do !! and if anyone else wants to share how their cultures were appropriated then please do that as well !!

so let’s get started shall we?

appropriating hinduism

1) the avatar

we’ll start with the most obvious example: the avatar itself

i know that there are parts of the avatar mythos that are taken from other cultures as well but the idea of the avatar itself is primarily from hinduism.

basically in hinduism, the term dashavatara refers to the 10 reincarnations of lord vishnu (the god of preservation), with avatar(a) meaning form or incarnation in sanskrit, and das(a) meaning ten. it was said that whenever the world was out of balance, lord vishnu would come down to earth in a certain form to restore balance. Each reincarnation is considered a different life with a different story. the avatars of lord vishnu are often considered the saviors of the world.

so basically, the central idea of the show and the actual name of the show is largely based on hinduism.

2) chakras

many different indian religions have a concept of chakras (chakra meaning wheel or circle in sanskrit), but hinduism is the one that primarily preaches the system of seven chakras, the version used in ATLA.

chakras connect the physical body to the ‘subtle’ body (referring more to the spirit and the psyche) by connecting parts of the body to aspects of the mind. the idea is that through different forms of steady meditation you can manipulate the different chakras and allow the pure flow of energy through the body.

the whole idea of chakras on ATLA is that aang has to unblock them all to let the cosmic energy flow through him so that he can go into the avatar state at will. so yeah, pretty much that whole idea was taken from hinduism.

3) terminologies

these are just a few terms that were taken from hinduism. i’m pretty sure there are more that i can’t think of right now but yeah.

“agni” kai

i’ll be honest i don’t know where the ‘kai’ part is from, i don’t think it’s from hinduism but if it is well fuck me i guess. ‘agni’ in hinduism is the god of fire, so the creators used it in ‘agni kai’, the name for a firebending duel.

“bumi”

this is in reference to the hindu word for ‘earth’, which is bhoomi. this is also in reference to our goddess of earth, bhoomi devi. also this doesn’t really bother me but i wonder if the creators knew that bhoomi is a name typically used for women (as are most hindi names ending in ‘i’/‘ee’).

in general, concepts like having multiple complex gods (the spirits) who are capable of good and evil and the reincarnation cycle are prominent in a lot of asian cultures, including (and arguably primarily) hinduism.

mocking hinduism

now we get into the mockery of hinduism in ATLA, because it is very much there.

1) whoever the fuck that baboon guy in the spirit world was

now what the fuck was this.

i mean i wouldn’t say this is the most egregious example of them making fun of brown people but lord why did this even need to be there? this random guy from the spirit world has an indian accent ? and is fervently chanting ‘om’ for some reason, and it’s clearly meant to be seen as comical. also portraying brown people as monkeys....... really.

2) combustion man/sparky sparky boom man

when rewatching ATLA in 2019 i actually had no idea that this was a thing, because the last time i had watched it was as a kid and i didn’t finish it.

so lord was i in for a surprise when i saw...

now... now what.

if you didn’t know, combustion man’s ‘third eye’ is designed to replicate the hindu god of destruction, lord shiva. right down to the vibhuti on his forehead (referring to the three line markings around the third eye).

in hinduism, lord shiva’s third eye is used to reduce people to ashes, though as far as i can recall, not very frequently. the primary significance of the third eye is that it represents the ability of higher spiritual thought and higher consciousness.

the ATLA writers take the ACTUAL significance of the third eye, throw it out the window, and then take its destructive abilities to make a super duper cool and dangerous new firebending technique.

and if that wasn’t bad enough, the actual person who uses this technique, and is meant to emulate a GOD who is PRAISED, is a scary, burly, half metal man who is a villain and an assassin. not to mention the design of his facial hair replicates that super duper scary “terrorist” depiction of brown people, particularly of muslims, that white people are so thoroughly terrified of for no reason.

this is a parody of a god, and they portrayed him as this terrifying, maniacal fucking assassin who, along with p’li, the combustion bender from LOK, is constantly referred to as a “third-eyed freak”. i’ve made this analogy before and i’ll do it again, this is like making jesus into a hitman.

now onto my favorite example...

3) guru pathik

ah, this motherfucker.

i don’t really have any problems with him as a character, i mean hell, must’ve taken a fuck ton of patience to handle aang’s “why would choose cosmic energy over katara” bullshit.

but we all know it, we see it plain as day, don’t even try to deny it.

“guru” literally just means teacher or guide, so i don’t really know why pathik needed to be referred to as “guru” so distinctively from aang’s other teachers and guides, but that’s just extremely trivial compared to all the other issues with this character.

first of all what is this character design? what is he even wearing? if they’re trying to replicate the clothes of swamis and priests and stuff this is already wrong, realized people don’t dress like this. and why the fuck does he have an indian accent? and why was this indian accent done by a non indian (brian george)?

once again, the poor but extremely heavy indian accent is clearly meant to be mocking, if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t’ve gone out of their way to get a non indian person to DO an indian accent, and instead they would’ve just gotten an actual indian person to play the role.

and oh yeah, the onion and banana juice. because hindus just eat weird shit right.

whether it’s actually weird or not, the show certainly portrays it as weird. and as far as i know no hindu actually fucking drinks onion and banana juice.

ironic because brown people can absolutely destroy white people in cooking. but i digress.

i know what you’re all waiting for. because the guru apparently didn’t have enough fun with guru pathik, so they just had to come back to him in book 3:

where do i begin.

so this is obviously john o’bryan’s super funny and hilarious depiction of pathik as a hindu god.

usually when a god has multiple arms it’s to carry an array of things, from flowers to weapons to instruments, and one hand is typically free to bless devotees (ie. goddess durga and lord vishnu respectively):

but of course white people see this as weird and so they make fun of it, hence guru pathik having multiple arms just flailing about aimlessly (save for the two that are being used to carry the aforementioned onion and banana juice).

then there’s the whole light behind pathik’s head which is usually depicted in drawings of hindu gods to show that they are celestial.

also what the fuck is he holding? is that supposed to be a veena? because this is what a veena looks like:

and i assume the reason this was added was to mock the design of goddess saraswathi, who carries a veena:

but that right there in the picture of pathik looks more like a tambura than a veena.

and it also just kinda looks like a banjo?

but i guess the animators just searched up “long indian instrument” and slapped it on there. actually no, that’s giving them too much credit, they probably didn’t search it up at all.

and then the actual scene is pathik singing crazily about chakras tasting good or something while playing the non-veena and it’s all supposed to be some funky crazy hallucination that aang is having due to sleep deprivation. just some crazy dream, just as crazy as talking appa and momo sparring with swords or tree-ozai coming to life.

our gurus and swamis and sadhus and generally realized people are very respected in hinduism, they’re people we look up to and honor very much. and our GODS are beings that we literally worship. and the writers just take both and make caricatures out of them for other white people to laugh at.

4) other shit

before we move to the next portion i just wanna mention there are also smaller backhanded jabs that i can’t really remember now, but one example was when zuko was all “we’ll be sure to remember that, guru goody goody”. or when a character would meditate and say “om” only when the meditation is supposed to be portrayed as comical or pointless. or in bitter work when sokka was rambling on about karma. small things like that. but moving on.

south asian representation, or lack thereof

now i finally get to the “losing” hinduism part. by this i mean the lack of actual representation there is of south asians (the region where hinduism is primarily practiced) despite the fact that hinduism plays such a big role in the show’s world design.

i think it’s safe to say that broadly the main cast consists of aang, katara, sokka, zuko, toph, azula, iroh, mai, ty lee, and suki.

a grand total of none of these characters are south asian. the writers don’t even attempt to add any south asian main characters.

there are characters with dark skin, like haru and jet, but a) they’re not confirmed to be south asian and don’t have any south asian features or south asian names, b) they’re side characters, so they don’t count as representation, and c) even if they were south asian and main characters, jet wouldn’t even count because he’s portrayed as a terrorist.

the ONLY truly south asian character we get is fucking guru pathik. so yeah. not representation.

i don’t get how the creators of this show rip off of hinduism (among many other south asian cultures they rip off of), mock indians, and then don’t even have the decency to HAVE a main character who is south asian.

i’ve never gotten a chance to compile all this, and this definitely isn’t all the creators have done, but i hope this was somewhat informative.

#atla #cultural appropriation #hinduism #guru pathik #combustion man #chakras #avatar

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turtleneck-wambsgans · 2 years

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scared away by snakes

It’s late in the evening, and Tom is sprawled out on the couch in the living room of his and Greg’s new apartment. The two had moved in a few weeks ago, deciding that it would be more convenient to live together rather than find two separate places in the New York housing market which was generally terrible, but particularly awful right now. Tom mindlessly scrolls through titles on Netflix, bored and alone, but too restless to settle on any one show.

Greg’s out with his friends, whom Tom is not entirely convinced exist. At frequent moments throughout the day, Tom tried to imagine the array of vapid millennials with whom Greg would be friends - a guy who always wears a beanie and overalls, a girl with electric yellow hair and a tattoo of RBG. At every fictive person he created, he simultaneously shuddered and sniggered. He’s only a little bit worried about his friend’s absence- it’s quite late. Greg should be back by now, shouldn’t he?

Just like clockwork, Tom hears the front door open, and the uneven tapping of shoes on the ground growing ever louder. Shoes Tom bought him, that is. After a few moments, Greg reaches the living room and smiles down at Tom. Tom can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Hello, Gregory. Long day, was it? You scale the Empire State Building? Try and chat up a descendant of the Rockefellers?”

“What, Tom? No, we just walked around the city and got dinner and stuff.”

“And what do you have there, Greg?” Tom asks, pointing at a bright red paper bag that has the words ‘The MET’ clearly printed on it in white.

“Oh yeah! Right,” Greg says, his eyes brightening just a bit. He moves to sit down beside Tom, settling himself before continuing.

“So we, like, went to the Met and they had this... like this exhibit on the Romans. We didn’t get to see much of it, because it was almost closing time. But I saw this one piece- it was this- this snake bracelet? Like, it was a snake curled up on itself. It was gold.”

“Uh huh,” Tom hums, dubiously.

“And when I was in the gift shop, I saw this replica of it as, like, a keychain. And it kinda reminded me of you. So, I bought it? For you,” Greg says, opening his bag and revealing the small trinket.

He reaches over to give it to Tom, who automatically accepts it. Tom isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about it. ‘When are snakes ever a good thing?’ he thinks. ‘Aren’t they the literal Biblical symbol of evil?’

“Gregory... why the ever-loving fuck did a snake bracelet remind you of me?”

Greg laughs, an uncertain thing. He takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Well, there was a little description beside it, and apparently Emperor Nero used to wear a bracelet like this one. There was some rumour that, when he was a kid, some people tried to kill him. But then there were snakes? In his room? And they scared the people that had come to kill Nero. He, like, denied the story, but when he was older, he wore a bracelet like this. So to him, it was kinda a form of protection, against any plots or danger.”

Tom isn’t breathing. His eyes dart between Greg’s face and the object in his hands. Greg goes on, his voice ever quieter.

“And I just thought, maybe, it’d be a nice thing for you to have? Because this world we exist in, it’s so crazy all the time. Like, we never know for sure whether we’re safe and...”

Greg trails off, having noticed the odd look on Tom’s face. It’s unreadable to him, which is never a good sign. Terrified he’s made an embarrassing mistake, he rushes to make amends.

“Oh God, is this, like, too weird? I’m so sorry, man.” Greg starts, reaching over to grab the keychain. “I’ll take it back. Just forget about it and-”

“NO!” Tom shouts, tightening his grip on the trinket and startling Greg.

“No?”

“I... It’s really...” Tom pauses. He doesn’t know what to say.

He looks up, gaze boring into Greg’s doe-eyed stare. Agonisingly, the silence draws on. A warm feeling swirls in Tom’s stomach. He finally speaks.

“Thank you... Sporus.”

At that, a warm smile settles on Greg’s face. He looks down to hide his reddening cheeks. Tom stops for a moment, thinking.

“Hey, um, you know that exhibit you visited?”

“A-about the Romans?” Tom nods. “Yeah?”

“Would you maybe be interested in spending some more time going through it?”

Greg looks up, and asks, “With... with you?”

“With me,” Tom all but whispers back.

“I... I’d like that, Tom,” Greg says, smiling.

Tom chuckles. “Well, good. We’ll go, say, next Saturday? And if you’re good, I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“If I’m good?”

“I don’t know, I’m just saying stuff. Next Saturday, the Met and then dinner.”

“Cool! Then it’s a...” Greg trails off, scared to say the wrong thing.

“It’s a date,” Tom supplies, grinning. Greg beams back.

“According to a rumour, there was a plot against Nero as a child. However, the men sent to kill him were scared away by snakes in his bedroom. Nero dismissed the story, but later wore a snakeskin encased in a gold bracelet.”

Nero: the man behind the myth (2021), THE BRITISH MUSEUM

#i keep doing historical research about nero and sporus #bc my love of succession and my love of history have overlapped #i do apologise kinda #trust me to try and pretty up stories about nero #who was literally the worst #i don't write fanfic... does this even count ?#it's more like a series of miscellaneous thoughts #tomgreg #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #succession #tnwg #tnwg writes

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davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

I think you’ll enjoy the Snyder Cut as funny as that outcome will be, but honestly the only analysis of the DCEU from you I’m interested in is comparing Cavill and Hoechlin. S&L shows that it’s not necessarily a darker tone or “realism” that caused the problems with Cavill.

You guessed true! I was indeed made a fool of for maximum comedic value. And now that we’re through Superman & Lois’s first ‘act’ for its inaugural season I’d say there’s a decent amount of material to work with for comparison. It’s actually a fair one to make: along with the series drawing a lot on Man of Steel aesthetically both takes on Superman are rooted in the notion of realistic consequence, albeit one focusing on the personal and the other on the global. But curiously if not surprisingly, the shorthand impressions of the two have pretty grievously screwed up the general interpretations on the two not only in terms of relative depth, but what sources they’re drawing on.

It’s funny; when Hoechlin debuted on Supergirl it was just about the most positive press Superman had gotten in over a decade, but by the time he showed up again the narrative had fully set in that he was a shameless, inauthentic carbon-copy of Christopher Reeve designed in contrast to Cavill, and it held until the debut of his solo show made people reckon with the quality of his performance on a weekly basis. And even that opened with a lovely bit of nostalgia bait that reinforced the idea that Hoechlin is a neo-classical ‘iconic’ take on the character shaped by his mass-media, while Cavill is the modernized serious update rooted in Deep Comic Book Lore. The truth is that between the two it’s the big screen take who hews a lot closer to the Christopher Reeve model, stoic in the face of danger, sweet when given the opportunity, somewhat distant most of the time but unquestionable in his good intent. Hoechlin meanwhile while paying his dues to almost every mass-media Superman interpretation to date one way or another is as a personality rooted in the comics in a way no prior adaptation approaches. Especially the work of Busiek and Morrison as a modernization of ideas originally stemming from the 60s and 70s of Superman as an emotionally vulnerable figure, unshakable in his heroism but driven by unique personal experience and a mindset bordering on neurosis almost as much as decency.

Perhaps the core of the divide that the differences in their performances stem from - beyond that from day one back in the Supergirl days, for me at least, Hoechlin simply felt a lot more authentic and charismatic - is specificity of motivation. Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent is a burdened figure, with no shortage of factors in his life acting against his journey to becoming Superman so as to make that transformation all the more remarkable: a lack of built-in inclinations in the same way as the rest of his species, his powers tormenting him throughout his childhood, social isolation, his family discouraging his heroics out of concern for his safety, the looming threat of the global sociopolitical impact should his existence be revealed. But for all that buildup, there’s little effort given to why in spite of all of that he would become Superman anyway, other than - for all the effort to make this a grounded, ‘real’ take on the character - that he is Superman, and when offered a chance at greatness as either one who does good or evil, he will naturally choose good. He’s a largely passive everyman figure, adrift for years until a place is given to him, and then in the tradition established by Byrne and company in the 1980s (reversing Siegel and Shuster’s original concept) only able to fully unclench when wearing the glasses rather than when enacting the mission and role he finds thrust upon him. He’s just a perfectly okay joe doing the best he can under increasingly impossible circumstances because he has no real choice but to go with the flow lest he let everyone down. Weird dickishness when Batman’s around aside, he’s broadly who ‘you’ would hope you could be if you were handed a cape and told to save the world.

With Hoechlin it’s incredibly clear where most of his driving traits come from even by the end of the pilot: his community-minded sense of ethics from his parents, his sense of larger duty and destiny from the literal voice of his heritage, his alienation from his unique responsibilities and powers and the secrets that come with them, his protectiveness from just about all of the above with the death of his father probably playing no small part. They’re traits that make him a natural as a big savior hero - he doesn’t need to put on an act or force himself into it, he’s really like that, especially with his natural goofy earnestness - but massively complicate his life as Clark Kent dealing with interpersonal relationships, tripping him up and complicating his priorities. He powers through on determination and the fact that under his issues he’s fundamentally a good person, but not all that deep down he’s someone with a lot of powerful and frequently conflicting drives that don’t always manifest in the healthiest ways even as he tries to improve.

Neither’s my ‘ideal’ version of Superman - there’s stuff I’d change or refocus with the both of them, even if Hoechlin’s a lot closer to what I’m looking for. But their outward presentations are misleading as to which of the two takes the character more seriously: the array of weights on Cavill’s shoulders are such that he as a person is largely squeezed out. The version Hoechlin plays however, in taking Superman at face value, ends up asking harder questions of what would shape that sort of person and how those personality traits would play out, and the results capture nuances that across 80 years no other major adaptation has managed.

#Superman #Tyler Hoechlin #Henry Cavill #Superman & Lois #Man of Steel #DCTV #DCEU #Worlds of DC #Opinion

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itsbenedict · 3 years

Text

I didn’t post about everything I played this year, so here’s my opinions on the stuff I played that I didn’t make a rec post for:

Raging Loop

Raging Loop is one of them twisty meta Zero Escape-y branching-path visual novels where an ensemble cast is trapped in a mysterious circumstance where people are dying gruesomely, and you have to find out what’s happening and stop it by looping a bunch.

I can’t wholeheartedly recommend it, because... it tries to have its cake and eat it too with the supernatural elements. Clearly magic is real and has important impacts on the scenario, but then other parts are trickery you’re supposed to see through, and it’s entirely uninterested in cluing you in to how that trickery was accomplished. Not exactly a fair play mystery, in that regard- you have to kind of just be along for the ride, rather than try to figure it out.

That said, it’s a good ride- pretty strong character writing, and the central conceit of the Werewolf/Mafia-style murder scenario creates really interesting drama. It’s more concerned with making itself feel clever than letting the player feel clever, but it’s still well-paced and gripping and has a pretty decent resolution.

Detective Grimoire

I recommended Tangle Tower, the sequel, pretty strongly- and this one, while obviously a little rougher around the edges with the art and mechanics (the suspicion tracker system is a total dud; I didn’t even realize it existed until I realized I was missing an achievement for using it), it’s still pretty darn good. Really fun character designs and animations, fully-voiced, and a solid whodunit backing it all. Plus- while the two are more or less self-contained, the continuity threads with Tangle Tower raised some really interesting questions.

Contradiction - the all-video murder mystery

This one was pretty fun, largely on the strength of the actors. The main mechanic of interrogating people on evidence and using their own statements against each other was some good stuff, too. Definitely had that Phoenix Wright quality to the deductions, and Jenks is a really fun character. (Had a few points where progression was just linked to standing in a certain previously-abandoned area of the map where a clue was suddenly there for no reason, there- good thing it had a hint system.)

As a mystery, it could use a little work- most of what you end up finding out is sequel bait (for a sequel that never actually came together, unfortunately), and the actual whodunit is just sort of hiding in the cracks of all that. And... cornering the culprit just sort of happens out of nowhere once you’ve got your hands on the right piece of evidence, without much fanfare. You’re following up on leads like usual, you find a little lie in someone’s testimony, and then- oh, shit, they’re just confessing everything! Unlike all the previous times you questioned them and they were super evasive like everyone else! And then the game is over.

All in all, it’s pretty meaty and entertaining and I’d recommend it, but unfortunately the creators have moved on to other things, so there’s not going to be any follow-up on the stuff it left unresolved.

Ikenfell

Ikenfell is a tightly-designed RPG about kids at a magic school, with Paper Mario-style action command mechanics and a battle system that makes a big deal out of careful positioning and movement, which was really enjoyable. The difficulty’s a little high (I recommend always always always speccing into max damage because killing things before they kill you is worth more than any amount of defense, speed doesn’t work, and healing is cheap), but I found it really satisfying.

There’s... something... off? About... I don’t know how to put it, it’s... doing that “yes, everyone is queer and mentally ill, deal with it” thing, which, sure, okay. But for a lot of them it’s such a background thing, like... half the playable cast is unambiguously nonbinary, but like... I don’t know if it’s trying to make some statement on how there are no rules to being NB and you can 100% perform a particular binary gender presentation but still count, or if they wrote the whole story and then changed the pronouns of some of the characters for Representation Points, or what. Probably the former? I dunno, it just feels weird. Maybe I’m just not woke enough to Get It.

(unrelatedly: why the heck is the official art they use everywhere so... off-model? none of them look like they do in-game- they look like the creator commissioned someone to draw a group shot with one reference image each and didn’t tell them anything about the characters. how much you wanna bet they commissioned a friend and it came out wrong but they were too polite to say “sorry, no, this is wrong, can you do it over?”)

Trails of Cold Steel IV

Hoo boy. It’s... not great, and it’s not great in a pretty predictable way for an even-numbered entry in the Trails series. It happens every time- first there’s a game in a new engine with new characters and a new world to explore, and it’s really nice and does interesting things... and then it ends on a cliffhanger, and then there’s a sequel game in the same engine with the same characters and the same world, reusing as many assets as possible. Also the League Of Generically Evil Anime Supervillains is there causing trouble for reasons they refuse to explain, and the plot is a storm of magicbabble and macguffin-chasing that makes little to no sense.

Cold Steel IV is that for Cold Steel III, full stop. Welcome back to all the same places you visited last game, except this time there’s some stupid magic apocalypse happening (not that it stops you from taking the time to do random sidequests constantly, of course). The whole “oh, the evil curse mind controls people and that’s why they do stupid bullshit that’s in no one’s interest” plot point is leaned on super hard, and it’s just a big yawn the whole way through.

It’s still really fun, though, because the battle system remains really well-designed. (The same battle system that was just as fun in Cold Steel III, mind you, but it hasn’t gotten old.) And- though they’re struggling to square it with the dumb mind control apocalypse plot, the NPC dialogue continues to make the world feel believable and lived-in. They don’t slack on the parts that make Trails good- it’s just the parts that make Trails bad are making themselves more evident than ever.

did finally get to date Towa though so that’s a win

One Step From Eden

OSFE is... uh. It’s fucking hard is what it is. It’s sort of a deckbuilding roguelike, and there’s this combat that takes place on a grid, and- wait, it’s like Mega Man Battle Network, it’s exactly like Mega Man Battle Network. Man, I forgot about that, but the mechanical influence is extremely obvious. It’s MMBN meets Slay the Spire.

Except it’s super duper hard as hell, because unlike MMBN you can’t pause and swap out chips or anything- everything is just always happening so much, all at once, everywhere, and you have no recourse but to git gud and learn all the enemy patterns and the behavior of your own spells and develop the twitch reflexes necessary to not fucking die from all the shit that’s on the screen always.

(What’s the story? Uhhhh, there was some kind of magic apocalypse, and some anime girls are trying to reach a city for some reason that doesn’t really get explained ever. The game doesn’t really care to build its world at all- it’s all mechanics plus a little token character dialogue that doesn’t say much.)

The point is it’s really frickin’ hard but I am an epic pro gamer and I got ALL THE ACHIEVEMENTS, MOTHERFUCKER. If you’ve played it, I expect you to be really god damn impressed with me, okay???

A Short Hike

This one was really relaxing! It’s a platformer where you explore an Animal Crossing-y island of cartoon animal people, collecting mobility upgrades- but like, mainly it’s about straight chillin’. The flight controls are fun and there’s lots of little secrets to find and it’s just a nice time that doesn’t drag on too long. Not too much to say about this one.

Pokémon Sword

Ehhhhh.

I’m not here for the hot takes about how Dexit is good actually. Development hell happened, they had to make cuts for time, I get it. It’s disappointing and makes the game a little bit worse, but it’s not the end of the world.

Apart from that... perfectly serviceable? The Wild Area could’ve used a little more technical polish (as could most things in the game, really) but was a step in the right direction, giving the player a wider array of early-game team-building options than ever before. No HMs is good. Story and characters were kind of nothing, but that’s par for the course. “At least this time they’re not shoehorning in some kind of stupid evil-team-wants-legendary-pokemon-to-destroy-the-world apocalypse plot”, I thought to myself before they managed to shoehorn one in at the last minute with zero buildup- but, hey, beats wasting half the game on it.

It’s nothing special and it’s missing a lot of polish, but its problems are mainly due to being rushed, and presumably next gen they’ll be able to reuse a lot of the models and animations (maybe even improve the animations so they’re not so boring??? a man can dream) and make something interesting. SwSh seem like they were testing the waters for something else, and not taking too many chances in the meantime.

(yo why would you sell all these cosmetic items and then turn them all off during gym battles, though)

Hades

Hades is- oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows Hades, it’s the game of the year, greatest thing since sliced bread, Supergiant are heroes, yada yada yada. I’ve played almost 300 hours of it and I’ve completed everything except all the Resources Director levels (currently a Sigma Wraith), it’s extremely fun and you don’t need me to tell you that.

Petal Crash

It was that thing the Paranatural creator helped on? It’s, uh. It’s a block-sliding puzzle game thing, sort of in a Puyo Puyo vein. It has fun character designs and some good dialogue, like you’d expect from Zack’s involvement, but it didn’t really leave an impression otherwise (besides how got dang infuriating some of its Turn Trial puzzles can be.) The story is... kinda heartwarming, kinda didactic, kinda childish, not especially deep or interesting. Hard for it to be, when it’s told through little bits of fluffy character dialogue that exist to set up a puzzle battle as quickly as possible. Not super recommended unless you really really like block-sliding puzzles.

Hollow Knight

Man, why’d I sleep on this for so long? It’s a metroidvania platformer with heavy Dark Souls inspiration, in terms of tone and difficulty and death mechanics and environmental storytelling. And it’s... apart from all that, just really good as a game, with tight controls and juicy movement and great animation. Progression is linked as much to mastery as it is to upgrades collected- I found myself in lategame areas facing down things that would’ve killed me ten times over at the start- not because I had the best gear, but because I’d learned the game’s language and understood how to move in ways that wouldn’t get me killed.

(Usually. Sometimes I’d walk into a room and sit on a bench and suddenly there’d be a boss fight and I’d get slaughtered. Ain’t that just the way it goes?)

Anyway, on top of all that it’s just charming as hell, with a really unique and well-realized world full of little bug people. I love how, like, your character is clearly some kind of eldritch abomination, but it’s small and cute and so everyone (besides enemies that attack you on sight because they’re possessed by some kinda evil mold) is like “awww, who’s this little guy? want some help, little guy?”

(except Zote, who is just an ass hole. i love him.)

#game rec #also some game non recs #long post

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

Text

The Fiancé: Chapter Four

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

Can I Tell You Confidentially, Ain’t You Sweet

MONDAY

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Steve mutters, leaning against the wall and looking out of the window, Sam the other side.

Staring down at the seemingly growing crowd, his agitation is growing with it, but all he can think about is how you must be feeling.

He’d nearly hurled his phone into the God damn Reflecting Pool when Fury had told him.

“Now, hang on a second, what?”

“This is a great opportunity to find out who these guys are and stop them, Steve.”

He’d scoffed, a hand on his hip as he’d paced. “So we’re putting a civilian’s life in danger, my civilian friend’s life in danger, who not only has absolutely no training in any kind of operation but is also just an innocent human being?”

A sigh had come through the line. “Steve... What these groups are talking about doing is getting worse, and they’re recruiting, not just people to assassinate you but for other operations as well around the world.”

His jaw had moved as he’d stopped, staring into the water. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.”

“Nick, I can’t see—”

“This isn’t a request, Steve, it’s an order.”

So here he is, a soldier with his orders, putting his friend’s life on the line for his own... And even though they’d appeared to give you one, you hadn’t really had much of a choice.

He hates it. But... as Nat had said, you couldn’t be safer. Part of him was actually relieved that you would now officially be under the watchful eye of SHIELD and the best agents he’d ever known, especially after the letter he’d received.

Sam shifts, mirroring Steve with his folded arms. “Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he murmurs. Shaking his head, he looks to him. “Only for six days, man. Just keep tellin’ yourself that, six days.”

Steve releases a breath, a muscle in his jaw moving. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing goes to shit in six days, huh.”

—

“I’m coming over the moment work finishes, if I can get out of the damn building.”

You lick your lips, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you carry a box to your bedroom door.

“Uh, actually, Bridge’, I’m packing right now.”

“You’re packing? Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re eloping, I want to be there!”

“No, no, we’re just moving in together.”

Just.

“Oh my God, your place or his?”

“Uh... a new place.” You lift a suitcase onto your bed, unzipping it.

“Where?”

“I’m not sure, actually, Steve’s chosen a place.” You move to your wardrobe, stare at it for a second and then grab an armful of clothes and turn, dropping them onto your bed.

“Ugh, it’s like he’s gifting you an apartment, that’s amazing. Oh, Y/N...” You pause your half-hearted folding of a sweater at Bridget’s sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Licking your lips, you place the sweater in the suitcase. “Well, we’re... we’re such good friends that we wanted to keep it a secret, just in case it didn’t work out so it wouldn’t be weird with our friends or for anyone. And, you know... the whole world seems to think it can be involved, as we’d, uhm, as we��d expected.“

You hear them hiss. “I know, I can’t believe what some people are writing, it’s such trash.”

“Yeah.” You haven’t dared to check the notifications that have been making your phone buzz, even as you’ve been speaking to Bridget, and their angry tone doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence.

As you fold another sweater, you hear the clicking of a computer mouse on the other end, and then Bridget gasping. “Oh my God, is the ring really from Tiffany’s?!”

“Uh...” You glance at the ring on your fourth left finger. The ring Nat had removed from a box she’d taken out of her coat pocket and unceremoniously handed to you, telling you to put it on. You have absolutely no idea where it’s from. Does SHIELD just have a storeroom full of these? Does Nat? “... I don’t actually know, Bridge’, but, you know me, I’m not really bothered by that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, I know. Is it new? Old? What does it look like?”

You continue to stare at the alien object. “It’s... silver. And new. Got a diamond in the middle, three smaller ones either side, going down the band.”

“Ugh, simple and elegant, love it. Can you send me a picture?”

“As soon as I’m done packing.”

“Good. And let me know where you’re moving to, please! I want to drop by unexpectedly every day.”

“Oh, I will as soon as I know.” Having finished folding, you zip the suitcase up and place a hand on it, exhaling a short breath.

There’s a small pause.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I just...” You rub your forehead before making yourself smile even though they can’t see it. “... This is just all happening so fast and it’s a lot, truthfully.”

“Oh, I bet. You know we all love and support you here, right?”

That makes your smile soften. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re still okay for drinks with me and Doll’ on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

I fucking hope it’s okay, I know I’m gonna need those drinks and giggles.

“Good, we’ll blow off some steam then.”

Hauling the suitcase off the bed, your eyes dart to the door as someone knocks on it.

“Come in,” you say, raising your voice slightly.

It opens and Sam appears, smiling. “Hey, you ready?”

“Just about.” You pass the suitcase to him, him lifting it like it weighs nothing, and the expected sharp inhale comes from the other end of the line.

“Is Sam there?” Bridget whispers.

Your lips twitching, you nod as you say, “Yeah, Bridge’, Sam’s here.”

The man of the moment pauses, looking back at you as his lips lift higher. “You’re talkin’ to Bridge’?”

“Yep.” You have to control your smile.

“How, uh, how’re they doin’?”

“How are you doing, Bridge’?” you ask, raising your eyebrows slightly as you hear them clear their throat.

“Uh, tell him I’m fine, thank you... And that I would like to have a secret engagement with him,” they finish in the quietest of whispers that has your lips twitching again.

“They say they’re fine, thank you.”

Sam nods, pauses for another moment before he moves to turn again.

“Oh, hey,” you say, a wholesomely sneaky idea coming to you. “Sam, why don’t I give you Bridget’s number, then you two can plan the respective bachelor and bachelorette parties together?”

Bridget’s almost squeal of an inhale gives you their answer as Sam looks at you and grins. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Oke doke, I’ll give it to you in a bit.” You smirk to yourself as Sam heads into the hallway.

There’s half a second before Bridget launches into a speech. “Oh my God, I love you so damn much, I’m gonna throw you the best damn party ever, I’ll get you whatever you want, whoever you want...”

Okay, maybe I can joke about with this situation now... Just with myself.

—

It takes you twenty-five minutes to pack. You haven’t packed much, only what you need for the week, and any food that will be going out of date soon, and it isn’t like you are actually moving out, so... the essentials it had been. Like you’re going on holiday. A bizarre, unwanted holiday. Nat has assured you there’s towels, cutlery, glasses, bedsheets, etc, all at the new place, you just need your clothes, toiletries, laptop, phone and anything else you might want to entertain yourself, her words. The last part had made you think of the box you keep under your bed, an array of toys you’ve accrued over the years inside.

... I mean... This is going to be a very stressful week... I’ll take just one... The silent, water-proof one.

That had disappeared into your backpack after you’d, quickly as you could, fumbled with the box and pulled it out and your toy cleaning wipes, sweating slightly as you’d heard the three of them moving around outside your door.

I will not humiliate myself further this week, no thank you.

Well, Nat would probably just nod in approval, Sam would probably actually do the same or just not even react, but Steve... There’s some things that you didn’t talk about, no matter how close you are.

Pulling your coat back on and the bag, hoping Nat doesn’t want to rifle through it this time, you step out of your bedroom, closing the door.

“So, what now?” you ask as they turn to you, Steve carrying your suitcase, Sam holding two boxes in his arms, Nat typing on her phone.

She slips it into her pocket and clasps her hands together as she speaks, “We leave, quickly and safely as possible. Sam and Steve are gonna take your things and Steve’s and head down to the parking garage, Sam’s got his car there, and they’ll come a little behind us. You and I are gonna head out the front, draw some of the crowd away and head to the new place.”

“Right.” You can’t work out if this is nice or not, having someone else take over and make all the decisions. At any other time, you’d be railing and demanding an input, but with this situation...

Carry on, Nat.

“All right, let’s go,” she says, as if having heard your thoughts, and moves to the door, peering through the peep-hole, checking the hallway, before she opens it.

“See you later, Y/N,” Sam says with that lovely warm smile of his as he heads out and, actually, between remembering the people who are now going to be looking after you and having decisions taken away from you, you’re starting to relax a little.

You meet Steve’s gaze and smile as he raises his eyebrows a little. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at home, then,” he says, a smile pulling at his own lips.

“Yeah, I’ll put the kettle on,” you reply, making his smile widen a little more.

“I look forward to it.”

You watch him as he heads out and into his own apartment, Sam having already opened the door. As he closes it, Nat steps out into the hallway, gesturing for you to follow, and you obey. Pulling your door shut, you lock it and turn to her, your keys disappearing into your coat pocket and you zip it closed.

As you both head down the hall, she pulls her phone out and starts typing again, her thumbs moving rapidly. You press the button to herald the elevator, and grip the straps of your bag, staring at the closed outer doors.

You try not to think about anything in particular, but you’re definitely feeling a lot more mellow.

Just six days, I can do that. Six days is fine, it’ll fly by. I just won’t watch the news, stay off of social media as much as possible and keep my head down with whatever Nat plans for us to do. Steve’ll want that, too, it’ll be fine.

Cheered by your new resolve, you breathe a little easier as the elevator arrives and you step in after the doors open. Nat presses the button for the ground floor as she steps in and glances at the ceiling corners, probably looking for bugging devices.

Pushing her phone into her pocket as the elevator begins to descend, she leans against the back wall, folding her arms and looking at you.

“We’ve got a couple of agents in the crowd and in the building along the street, so don’t worry, we’ve got eyes from every angle.”

“Okay,” you answer, having to stop yourself from saying ‘thank you’ because you know she’ll just smirk and arch an eyebrow.

She pulls the sunglasses down from her head to settle over her eyes once more and you raise your eyebrows.

“... Can I ask, what’s with the glasses?”

“They scan people’s faces, log and check them on a database we have.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Facial recognition.

That unsettles you a bit.

Licking your lips, you look back at the doors. “Where is the new place?” you ask after a moment.

“Other side of town.”

She doesn’t elaborate. You don’t know why you even bothered asking.

The elevator slows and she straightens, glancing at you. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, clinging onto the calmness you’d felt only minutes before.

The doors open and you both step out. Aaron is stood close to the door, his hands on his belt, frowning, and there’s another guard with him, one you recognise as usually taking the night shift. Aaron must have called him... and as your eyes dart to the windows, you can see why. The faint, jolly music is still playing and it’s a bizarre juxtaposition to the muffled shouting and screaming from outside because the crowed have spotted you now. People are trying to peer through the floor-to-ceiling windows, craning their necks and shoving each other out of the way to get a better look at you, filming on their phones and trying to take pictures.

Aaron turns to you and gives you a small smile as you approach, Nat a step ahead.

“How’re we looking?” she asks him and from his blinking and surprised expression, you guess he isn’t one of the eyes she was talking about.

“Uh, well, no-one’s tried to get in, yet. Someone seemed as if they were about to follow someone who lives here in, but other’s started yelling at them that we could then call the police, so, seems like they’re seasoned.” He glances at you, giving you another smile.

You return it because, God, he’s probably not trained for this, and he’s such a nice guy.

“All right, well, they should go soon once they realise Steve and Y/N are moving.”

“You’re leaving?” He looks rather crestfallen as he meets your gaze again, and you don’t quite know what to do, but it’s left to you to say something because Nat’s moved off to the other guard.

Lying to him almost feels as bad as having to lie to your friends. He’s been working here for quite a few months now and he’s always ready to have a goofy laugh with you, especially when you come back from after-work drinks. It was always nice, too, to come back from a shitty day and see him, smiling and asking you how your day was.

“Well, tomorrow’s a new day,” he’d always say back, to the point where you both just ended up saying it together.

Do you just say bye? Do you give him your number, or promise to add him on Instagram or Facebook?

Yes, please.

Yeah, all right, you have a tiny bit of a crush on him, but it’s fine and you won’t ever act on it, so it’s fine.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say to him, offering a slightly sheepish smile.

Why am I apologising.

He smiles quickly, a beam that you’d come to enjoy seeing. “Well, I wish you luck with your new life, you two always seemed happy together, I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out.” He laughs and you make yourself join in.

Oh, it’s because it’s not truuueee...

“Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate that.” You pause for a second before continuing as you don’t know what else to say, “I’ll see you around.”

He nods. “Yeah, we follow each other on Instagram, so...”

“Do we?” Oh God, that’s embarrassing, as is the tone of surprise you hadn’t quite managed to stop. It’s like you’ve forgotten about him or don’t care, oh my God...

“Yeah, we...” He pauses to let out a chuckle. “You just took my phone that one time, when you came back from a friend’s birthday party, and followed yourself on my account, then promised you’d follow me which you did, so...”

Dolly’s birthday party. Tequila shots.

“Oh, right, yes, sorry, I remember.” Your face feels too warm. “Well, I’ll make sure to say hello.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and takes a breath before clearing his throat “Goodbye, then, good luck with everything.”

“Thank you,” you answer, but he’s already turning and moving back towards the other guard, Nat giving him a brief smile as they pass each other and she returns to you.

Arching an eyebrow at you, a smirk hints at the corners of her mouth.

“Already initiating an affair?” she murmurs as she places a hand above your backpack, gently guiding you towards the door.

“Shut up,” you mutter, very much aware of how warm your face still is.

Her mood shifts the moment you’re in front of the door, the other guard gripping the handle, ready to open it.

“Okay, just keep moving towards the car, all right, don’t worry if you feel me pushing you, just keep your feet moving, and look straight ahead.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and from the corner of your eye you see her nod.

The guard opens the door and steps out, pushing people back, and then you’re out and through the door.

The moment you feel the cold air touch your skin, it’s pandemonium. People scream, cameras flash, and questions are yelled at you, so many you can’t even make them out properly. You keep your feet moving but your eyes are darting all over, trying to take it all in, there’s so many people. Your anxiety comes flooding back as the guard and Aaron try their best to keep people back and Nat keeps pushing you forward, silent. You just can’t believe they’re all here, in the freezing cold, just to see you.

Well, not just you.

“He’s not here! He’s not with her!” you hear a man shout next to you, making you flinch.

Suddenly, your hands are on Nat’s Corvette and you’re fumbling for the handle. Finding it and tugging it open, Aaron has to really push against a group beside you to allow you space to open it and so you can get in. With your bag still on your back, you slide into the seat and call a “Thank you!” to Aaron. He doesn’t get a chance to turn and acknowledge it as Nat closes the door and the group surges slightly, trying to press against the car. Keeping your eyes down, you lean forward to slide your backpack off and drop it between your feet.

Your hands shake slightly as you buckle your seatbelt, so you clasp them together in your lap once you’re done. It takes Nat a few more moments than last time to get round to her side, but then she’s there, swiftly getting in. Slamming the door shut, she secures her seatbelt and turns the engine on, the sound of it, luckily, making people step back.

Within moments, she’s pulling you both away and down the street. Staring through the wing mirror on your side, you’re grateful for the first time for her speed, knowing by the time the group scatters and gets into their cars or news vans that you’ll be blocks away.

Closing your eyes, you try and cheer yourself.

The hard part’s over. That’s it. You did it.

—

The hard part is definitely over.

This is the fanciest fucking place I’ve ever seen in my life.

You don’t think your mouth’s closed once from the moment you stepped into the building let alone your new penthouse.

It’s huge. All open-plan and white or stripped wood furniture, lush, thick, beige carpeting throughout, except in the kitchen where it’s polished stone, and the bathrooms where it’s white tile with thin flashes of gold. The dining room is decorated to a show-room standard, with a long, glass table and white cushioned chairs, cutlery set out waiting to be used. The living room, with its two ridiculously comfy beige couches, darker than the carpet, with terracotta blankets draped over them, a huge TV, brick fireplace, and intricately carved coffee table, meets the floor-to-ceiling windows and a glass door that opens out onto a balcony and a view of the city. A swinging chair and four, regular, but as equally comfy-looking, chairs are on it with a stone table, and to the right there’s a pool and more couches and a firepit. To the right of the living room area, behind a door, is a gym room, complete with, what you assume is state-of-the-art, equipment. The kitchen is to die for with its black marble counters and island, accompanied by stools to sit at, and the huge silver fridge and the white beech-wood cabinets and the bedrooms...

There’s two, one’s going to be yours, the other’s Steve’s. You very much agreed with Nat when she said, as you were the first here, that you get first pick but, truthfully, you’d have been over the moon with either of them. The one you have chosen, though, is the first one you come to after walking up the stairs. The king-sized bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever lain on, and the grey and white striped duvet and sheets are so soft. The wardrobe is a walk-in, you have your own en-suite, featuring a clawfoot bath, a huge shower and an ornate sink, and the windows in the bedroom are also floor-to-ceiling, the view gorgeous.

Maybe this will feel like a holiday, maybe this won’t be so bad after all, oh my God, even the toilet paper is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, I never want to leave...

As you finally pull yourself out of the room, you lean against the landing railing, gazing down at the open-plan floor below. It looks even more gorgeous from up here, perfect, coordinated, a dream.

Nat stands by the balcony door, talking to someone on her phone, and as you practically float down the stairs, she brings it to an end and hangs up, pushing it into her jeans pocket as a smile begins to form.

“So, everything is satisfactory for you, ma’am?”

“Oh, Nat, this is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.” Crossing the room, you sit on one of the couches, leaning back and looking at her. “How did you find this place?”

She folds her arms, leaning against the window. “We keep a few places on hold, just in case.”

Your head tilts forward, your eyes widening. “This place is a safe-house?!”

Her lips twitch. “Not anymore. Clint’ll be pissed.”

Before you can respond, the front door opens and you both turn, watching Steve and Sam enter. Sam lets out a whistle as he walks down the short hallway, his eyes wide. “Oh my God, can I move in?”

Grinning because this feels good, this feels nice to find it exciting rather than terrifying, you raise your eyebrows. “Hey, I wouldn’t mind, there’s probably room for ten people here.”

“Yeah, Sam snores, so I don’t think so,” Steve quips as he passes the other man, setting the three suitcases, one of them yours, he’d been carrying down by the kitchen archway. He seems just as impressed, though, if a bit more quietly so, his eyes roaming the interior. They arrive at you.

“You happy with it?” he asks, and it makes your chest ache with how sincerely he says it.

“Are you kidding me?” You maintain your grin, wanting to keep the tone light. “I can probably sleep in the wardrobe I have up there and there’s a pool outside.”

“It’s winter, Y/N,” Sam says, but he’s craning his neck to peer outside as he puts your two boxes on the kitchen island.

“It’s heated,” Nat says casually, making you and Sam gasp quietly.

I’m never leaving.

“Right,” Nat continues, moving away from the window as Sam takes her place, her arms still folded. “There’s food in the fridge and cupboards, plenty of towels in the downstairs bathroom cupboards, there’s a washing machine and tumble dryer in there, too, and I’m gonna advise you to not order take-out this week for safety purposes.”

If that’s the sacrifice I have to make to live here then fine.

“Steve, come with me, I’ll show you how the machines work, Sam you take Y/N’s things upstairs and help her unpack.”

“I know how a washing machine works, Nat,” Steve sighs even as he follows after her.

“Oh, not this one, trust me.”

Your gaze darting to meet Sam’s, you both grin.

“Please show me this wardrobe, I’m dyin’ to see it.”

Rising off the couch, you gesture towards the stairs with a flourish of your arm. “This way, then, please, sir.”

Striding across the floor, he grabs your suitcase in one hand and manages to carry both boxes in his other arm before turning to you. “Take me there, ma’am.”

You feel like a giddy child as you both head up the stairs, nearly running.

Nat shakes her head as they listen to you both and she meets Steve’s gaze, her lips twitching. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Even though she knows you nor Sam will be able to hear her in the bathroom she and Steve are stood in, she still softens her voice. “You okay, old man?”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other. “Yeah. It’s just gonna take some getting used to.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning against the washing machine, instructions forgotten, and she knows not needed. “I know this isn’t exactly how we planned on locating these guys but we couldn’t let this opportunity go—”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, a note of exasperation to it. “Fury said the same thing.”

She looks at him, the tightness in his jaw, despite how relaxed he appears. “She’s going to be safe,” she says gently after a few moments. “I know I don’t have to remind you, but we’re doing this for her, too.”

That makes him stiffen slightly, but she knows he needs an objective for this, something to fight for, something personal, his own life not being enough. He nods after a short pause, then his eyes meet hers and he gives an easy smile.

“You gonna show me how to use this thing or what, huh?”

—

You wish Nat and Sam could’ve stayed longer. Could’ve helped you both settle in, maybe even shown you how to operate the TV, even though you knew... Could’ve stayed longer because they helped to keep the excitement up.

The moment the door closed after they’d said their goodbyes, barely an hour after they’d arrive, said adamantly to call if either of you needed anything, and that the building was already being watched by agents, silence descended.

You’d both been stood by the front door to bid farewell, Steve holding it open, and you’d watched them cross the small circular foyer to the elevator that only someone with a passkey could get into and come to this floor with. You, Steve, Nat and Sam were the only people to have one. As the latter two disappeared, the elevator doors closing and Steve closed your own door and the silence came, you just looked at each other. You couldn’t think what to say, not quite in the mood to crack a joke, some of your energy having left you. Steve had appeared to feel the same way, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gave a light smile.

As the silence went on a second too long, you had returned his smile, though wider, and made some excuse about having promised to video call Dolly and Bridget to show them the place. He’d just nodded and joked about keeping out of the way.

You hate this. Hate that there’s some kind of... disconnect between you two now, though, you hope, you’re the only one to feel it. You don’t want to become awkward strangers to each other, you don’t want to feel uncomfortable and embarrassed every time you want to speak to him because how the hell are you going to get through the week? Or beyond it? You know it’s all your own doing, your own insecurities and embarrassment holding you back, but you just need... a few minutes to adjust.

The video call with your friends doesn’t exactly help. They’d gasped and squealed at everything you’d showed them, so delighted and excited for their friend, and you don’t know where you’d found the energy from to be ‘on’, to be at their level, and the level of an excited, engaged woman. You had quickly excused yourself after half an hour, though, saying you and Steve still have some things to unpack.

You hate lying to them. You hate it so much.

You'd felt tears pricking at your eyes as you’d waved goodbye, catching their blown kisses like you usually would but unable to return them with quite the same goofiness. If they’d have asked, you just would have said you were tired, which wouldn’t have been a complete lie.

When you end the call and drop your phone onto your bed, you close your eyes, wiping at them after a moment to eradicate any stray tears.

Six days. Just six days. And it’s to help save your best friend’s life.

Changing into a sweater and pyjamas trousers, you leave your room, your phone held in one hand. A quick glance around as you descend the stairs shows no sign of Steve, but as you reach the bottom you hear sounds of a machine in the gym room despite the door being closed. You leave him to it, knowing he’s probably got his own adjustments to reckon with.

Despite his status, he’s still a private guy, and he probably hates the limelight now being shone on him once more.

There comes the guilt again, gnawing at you from the inside, and swiftly comes the challenge that without your lie you wouldn’t be able to help SHIELD find whoever wants to hurt him... Then comes the sadness, anger and helplessness.

You sit on the nearest couch, grabbing the remote, and turn the TV on. The channel you’re on is showing an advert, so you skip through until you land on a talk show. You pause for a moment, before lowering the remote.

“... also have a statement from June & Mayflower Publishing,” a woman is saying, text appearing on the screen beside her.

You don’t bother to listen properly or read it. Nat had called Yvette while you’d been packing, and she and her assistant Alice had drafted a statement saying the whole company was delighted. She’d sent it to you while Nat had been driving you here to read beforehand but you’d just replied to the email saying it was fine, you trusted her.

You tune back in when a man speaks, and a weird feeling rises in your chest as a picture of you and Steve, from probably only a few months after you’d moved to D.C, walking in a park and smiling, pops up on the screen.

“Y/N has actually been sighted with Steve before, they’ve actually been neighbours for three years, isn’t that romantic?”

“Awh, so cute!” the woman says, beaming.

“I know, right? People were asking if something was going on, we were desperate to know if our boy in red, white and blue had finally found the one again, but after months of quiet speculation we all knew they were just good friends.”

You wouldn’t have exactly called it quiet. You can still remember the shock and surprise of leaving your building and someone coming up to you to ask questions about you and Steve every other day, but it had soon faded, and had been nothing compared to what you’d experienced today.

“Now what we’re all desperate to know is is it going to be a winter wedding?”

“Yeeesss,” the woman says, clapping her hands together. “Now, some of us may think that that’s unusual but they are becoming more popular, and if the wedding of the century is going to a winter one, then, well, cancel Christmas, wedding planners, you’ve got work to do!”

As they laugh, you cringe, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. Unused to wearing a ring the size of the engagement one, it keeps catching on it.

“Now, we have Chrisse Christianson on the line from Chrisse’s Boutique, the store that specialises in all things weddings right here in New York, hi, Chrisse, have you been contacted by the couple?”

“Hi, guys! No, I haven’t been contacted yet,” she laughs, the trilling sound echoing across the studio, “but as Steve is from here we’re hoping they decide to shop local, and—”

As the gym room door opens, with lightening speed you change the channel, landing on a documentary of some kind.

Clearing your throat and lifting your head, you smile at him as he steps out... and you can’t stop your gaze from travelling him. His shirt is sticking to his skin with sweat, beads of it trailing down his neck and temple. His muscles somehow look bigger, straining under the sleeves of the shirt. You swiftly lift your eyes as you catch yourself, and his warm smile is what sets off the fluttering in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets, closing the door.

“Hi,” you manage to say nonchalantly.

Glancing at the TV screen, he then looks back to you. “Dolly and Bridge’ okay?”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you smile a touch wryly. “Can’t tell if they’re more excited about the engagement or the apartment.”

He chuckles, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. You have to stop yourself from watching his muscles flex. “Well, they’re only human.”

Your smile softens as you exhale a laugh. As he crosses behind the couch to the stairs, your eyes return to the TV, but you hear him pause on the bottom step.

“Hey, after I shower I’ll cook us something to eat, okay?”

You look to him, your smile returning as you nod. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He nods and ascends the stairs, and you make yourself look back at the screen.

Well, there you go, you’ve spoken and it wasn’t awkward. Hey, you’d even laughed. That was good, fine. It would just be a little weird adjusting, that was all.

You focus on the documentary, which you realise is about birds. You focus very hard on it.

—

Cutlery quietly clinks against plates, the only sound that fills the air of the penthouse. Usually when you both cook together one of you will put music on, more often than not the playlist you’ve curated together over the years that holds a charmingly eclectic mix of music ranging from the 20s to now. Today, though, neither of you felt much like listening to any.

You’d just stayed on the couch, anyway, when he’d reappeared, showered and dressed, and cooked, almost frozen to the spot and staring at the TV screen. It was nice to drift away for half an hour or so, be distracted by something. He’d gently called you when the pasta dish was ready, and you’d both decided to sit at the island, something too unspokenly formal about the dining table.

And so silence has fallen.

Steve watches you as you both eat quietly, your head slightly lowered. The only thing you’d said was how good it tasted after your first mouthful, and he’d thanked you. You haven’t said another word since. He himself is slightly slumped in his chair, his shoulders down, his arm resting on his thigh, back a little curved. You’d laughed the first time you’d seen him with such an unsuperhero-y posture, fully relaxed. He’d just smiled, and you’d realised over the years that that was how Steve Rogers sat and how he always had, even pre-serum, almost like his body was curving in, protecting himself.

Your fork lowering onto your plate pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you. Running a hand down his mouth, he clears his throat.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly.

You just look at your plate for a moment as you push it away, your hands clasping together in its place. You’d known this was coming the whole time you’d been eating, before even. Taking a breath and exhaling it, you swallow before you finally look at him. His features don’t change, just watching you.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, about all of this,” you say, your voice just as quiet as his. “For what I said at the party, all of this, I just...”

“Why?” he asks when you don’t carry on.

You raise your eyebrows slightly, a faint expression of surprise. “I used you. I used you to get back at someone who doesn’t matter, and I hate that I did that, I hate it. It’s what everyone else does to you, they use your status and the symbol of Captain America, they take advantage of it, I’ve seen people do it, they pretend they’re your friend just to get something, and I never wanted to be the person that did that, I’m so sorry, I’m your friend because I like you, not because I want to look important or have some kind of status, but that’s what I wanted in that moment, I wanted him to look at me and think I was important and he’d missed out, and I could do better than him and now I’ve just thrown that all away, I’m a hypocrite and I’m so sorry.” You stop abruptly and inhale a slightly broken breath.

He didn’t interrupt you as you got it all out to him, finally, his expression didn’t change, he just sat quietly and listened, knowing the thoughts have probably been rolling around in your mind incessantly. His features soften now, though.

“Y/N...” he says after a moment, “... It was a bit of fun.” You just look at him, your lips slightly parted. “Sure, it’s spiralled, and here we are, having to pick out cake decorations...” He trails off with a smile as you exhale a laugh, your own smile finally breaking out across your features. When he continues, he’s still smiling but his tone is sincere. “I know the kind of person you are, Y/N. I know when I’m being used, despite how old I am I’ve still got all my marbles, but it was just some fun, and I was glad to do it for you, he seemed like an ass.”

Your smile has lingered, your shoulders relaxing in relief as you inhale a breath. “Yeah, he was.” Shaking your head, you look at him. “God, you’re just...”

He arches an eyebrow, his head tilting. “What?”

Your smile widens. “Incredible, Steve Rogers.”

He chuckles, his hand falling into his lap. “You are, too. And Y/N, you are important—”

“I know, I know,” you say quickly, feeling your face warm. You can’t bear to hear one of his pep-talks now, it’ll just make you feel like even more of a child for having done what you did.

Mercifully, he takes the hint and leans his elbow on the island, his fingers brushing over his lips. There’s a small pause before he speaks again.

“Look, I’m not the best at all this undercover stuff, I’m quite bad at it actually, I’m surprised Nat hasn’t entertained you with the tales, but I think having to do it with you will make it a little easier.”

Your gaze lifts to him, the heat lingering on your skin, and you smile softly. “Well, thank you. You, too.”

You want to cry. You have some kind of emotional release from the day, but you know that would just make him feel guilty.

You attempt to lighten the tone again, raising your eyes to take in the penthouse once more. “So why don’t you live in a place like this?”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Your apartment’s the same size as mine, but you probably have ten times what I do. Don’t give me that look,” you swiftly continue, the corners of your mouth lifting, “They published it, and I couldn’t help but accidentally read it, and I’m just saying, why do we split the bill.”

He arches an eyebrow, a smile threatening. “Because you insist.”

“Well...” You scoff, raising your eyebrows. “I’m gonna stop insisting.”

He chuckles and shrugs, his hands clasping in his lap. “I like my place. And where could I find a better neighbour, huh?”

“Oh, well...” You shrug a shoulder as you smile faux-demurely, shaking your head. “You couldn’t, so, good.”

“I know, I know, God’s gift,” he concedes with raised eyebrows, his smile betraying his tone. Moving off the stool, he takes your plate and his and heads to the sink, placing them in and turning the tap on, letting the water run over them.

Placing your arms on the island, you exhale a long breath. “So... How are you gonna spend your first afternoon here in paradise?”

The corners of his mouth lift as he turns the tap off and leans against the counter beside him, his hands in his pockets. “Think I’m gonna give Buck a call, and Nat, see what’s goin’ on. You?”

You wrinkle your nose, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m technically not working just yet, so, I’ve got a few things I want to take care of and send to Yvette, then...” You shrug again. “... The shower in my room looks great, actually, so I might spend about three hours in there.”

“Yeah, mine was life-changing, so...” He smiles as you laugh, sliding off of your stool.

“Oh, good, maybe I’ll spend four hours in there, then.” Tugging your sleeves over your hands, you grab your phone and return his smile. “All right, I guess I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Yeah. Don’t work too hard.”

“Oh, I’ll try.”

And there it is again, that weird, unfamiliar awkwardness returns, not too overt, but definitely there. As you climb the stairs, you once again hope he doesn’t feel it, but, you are relieved that you got out what had been rattling around in your mind since the morning. Relieved that he was so understanding, too, but when is he not? That’s what you lo— admire about him so much. Empathy is seemingly a rare trait these days so it’s nice to be reminded that people do have it. And, oh, you’d had a normal conversation. You almost laugh at the boost it’s given you.

You push him, the day, everything out of your mind, though, as you enter your room and close the door. Taking your laptop from your backpack, you turn it on and sit back against the luxurious cushions on the bed, closing your eyes for a few moments to get your brain into work-mode.

This will distract you for a good few hours, be something that you can handle and focus on.

Opening your eyes, you sign into your laptop and straighten your back.

Oke doke... Hello, my actual life.

—

You manage to waste more than a good few hours sending emails, receiving them, taking calls, approving events and posts, planning out the next few months of what you want to get done and make public. You ignore the emails that have ‘CONGRATULATIONS!!!’ in the subject line, hoping people will just think you’re too busy being desperately in love to reply to all the well-wishers. It’s almost bliss, to lose yourself in your work and think of nothing else, even though you do have to block a few numbers from tabloids every half an hour or so.

As darkness falls, though, and everyone else ends their working day, you force yourself to send your last email, to Yvette, explaining, as Nat had asked you to, that you would be taking the week off. Yvette already knows, of course, but Nat had requested you to do it just in case someone hacked into your emails, or the company’s. Shutting your laptop down and closing it, your gaze drifts to the window. The sky is an inky black, and the bedside lamp you’d turned on an hour or so before illuminates the room in a warm, gentle glow.

Moving off the bed with a slight, stiff, wince, you pull the curtains closed, and take a moment to let your thumbs caress the silver, velvety material.

Ugh, just perfect.

Blowing out a breath, you turn back to the room.

What now?

...

Time for that shower, I think.

You take another moment to once more take in the beauty of your bathroom, before you open the shower door and stare at the buttons because it has buttons and not knobs and taps like you’re used to. Thankfully, they’re easy to understand and in seconds a warm stream of beautifully pressured water is pouring down onto the floor.

You dart back into the bedroom to grab your phone, wanting to play some music, and as you wander back into the bathroom, you unlock it. As you search for your desired playlist, an Instagram notification suddenly appears at the top of the screen. It’s a message—

You pause.

A message from Aaron.

You feel your face heating up, and it’s not from the steam of the shower, as you tap on it to open the app and read it quickly.

Hey, I hope you’re settling in okay, and your new door guys aren’t as funny as I am.

You smile, quite touched by the sweetness of it. Your thumbs start to move before you can stop them.

Hi, thank you so much! It’s all fine here, and no, they certainly aren’t, so you can rest easy.

Feeling faintly like a giddy teenager as you quickly close the app in case he comes online and sees you’re active, (and oh my God, did I reply too quickly?), you start your playlist and place your phone by the sink. After undressing, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, and spending a moment considering if you should remove the ring in case you damage it but deciding to leave it on, you step into the shower and are unable to stop a soft groan as the warm water washes over you.

This is so much better than the water in our building... then again, it’s not hard to beat it.

You take your time to shower, washing every inch of your skin with the new bottle of body-wash that was already in there and smells divine. When you finally turn the water off and step out, you pull a cream, fluffy towel from the nearby rack and it rivals the bed in softness. After patting yourself dry and moisturising with the new pot of cream that was in one of the cabinets under the sink, and comes from that fancy shop you and Dolly go into every month for samples, you wrap the towel around yourself, take your phone and head into the bedroom.

Checking for notification as you sit on the bed, you find Aaron has answered.

Oh, good, to both of those. My reputation remains intact.

Your teeth graze over your lower lip as you reply.

Absolutely, I’ll let them know here that they seriously need to do better.

Being on the app reminds you to make your account private as, oh, boy, strangers commenting on every single photo you’ve ever posted is overwhelming. You’re about to exit out of the app when you decide to have a look at Aaron’s profile. It’s a standard grid, photos of him at bars or parties, by the looks of it, selfies, photos of him at the gym...

Wow... His uniform kinda hides those muscles.

Stop it.

Locking your phone, you lie back on the bed, not quite ready to change just yet.

God, that was a good shower.

Wonder if Steve’s shower was really good. If the water pressure was good like mine, not if he had a nice time, if he just really enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

You stare at the ceiling, swallowing lightly.

Your eyes drift to your backpack on the floor.

Where your toy calls quietly to you.

... This would help the unwinding to continue.

Moving off the bed, you reach inside your backpack and grab the toy, pulling it out of its drawstring bag.

It’s one of your favourites; smooth, rose-gold silicone, medium length, a ribbed shaft, silent, different speeds and patterns, water-proof, you can use it anywhere, anytime, and do whatever you want with it.

Lying back again, you shift into a more comfortable position and close your eyes, your thumb finding the familiar button to set the vibration at the first, low speed.

You think about what you usually do when you can’t be bothered to look a stimulus up online; a faceless mouth on your neck, on your breasts, licking and sucking at your nipples, on your thighs, hands pulling them apart, gliding down to your wet pussy lips, caressing and stroking.

A rush of breath escapes you as you glide the head of the vibrator up and down your cunt, your hips jerking slightly at the initial contact. You’re wet already, and you hum gently as you stop at your clit, leaving the vibrator there.

Your free hand tugs the towel open so you can reach your breasts, your fingers going between your nipples and, tugging and pinching them along with your fantasy. You increase the speed by one as you start to lose yourself in the pleasure thrumming throughout your body.

... And you can’t stop yourself from not thinking about it anymore.

You picture Steve in the shower.

You’ve thought of him a couple of times before while masturbating, accidentally. Like when you've been drunk he’s just slipped into your mind... or just at the last second when you're coming his face has appeared in your mind and his name from your lips. You just can’t help it.

The faceless mouth and hands become his as you rock your hips, quiet moans sounding from your throat. He whispers your name into your ear, telling you how good you feel, how wet you are, what a good girl you are, how he can’t wait to sink his cock into yo—

Two gentle knocks sound on your bedroom door.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapping open, you stare at the door.

Steve.

Oh my God, it’s like I summoned him.

“... Yeah?” You try to sound as nonchalant as possible, your voice just a touch higher than normal.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh...” You’re off the bed in seconds, the towel falling to the floor as you thrust the vibrator behind one of the many pillows and clear your throat, “... Hang on, two seconds...”

You can’t answer the door to him in just a towel, you can’t, where—

You find the robe you’d spotted earlier, still hanging on the back of the bathroom door and grab it, pulling it on and tying the cord tight.

God, that’s soft...

Clearing your throat again, you take a breath and open the door, smiling widely as your eyes fall on him.

“Hey, sorry, I just had a shower.”

He takes an almost involuntary step back, his back straightening. “Oh, sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You’re still smiling, and he’s returning it, albeit a bit softer and less forced, his eyes on yours.

“Right, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie? I can make some dinner for us while you change?”

He’s just so fucking nice, how can I think such filthy things...

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“All right, I think it’s your turn to pick the movie.”

“All right, I’ll get thinking.”

I hope I don’t sound as manic as I feel.

You watch him descend the stairs for a moment before you close the door and lean against it, closing your eyes.

Oh, God...

It’s good actually, that he turned up, you shouldn’t be thinking about him, it’s wrong, he’s your friend—

Stop. Just stop thinking about it.

Opening your eyes, you exhale a long breath and move towards your new wardrobe, finding your pyjamas.

Right, now to just get through the evening without any awkwardness... and the rest of the week.

Okay.

Right.

Fine.

Perfectly easy.

—

Comments, reblogs make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in this series!

Tagged: @herb-welch, @jobean12-blog, @gifsbysimplysonia, @multireality, @saltyspiceduh, @sergeantangel, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky, @dispatchvampire, @superapplepie, @rynabarnesrogers-reading, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @imaginedreamwrite, @thesefleshfailures, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tellthemall-i-saidhi, @tacohead13, @opalsandlace, @notsomellowmushroom, @river-soul

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x plus size reader #chekhov's sex toy #my writing #flamehairedwritings #marvel fanfiction

110 notes · View notes

reinahwanggg · 4 years

Text

𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒥𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑔𝓊𝓀

╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓

╚═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╝

⇸ i feel like he’s someone who wouldn’t wanna confess.

⇸ like, he’s so content with just watching you from afar.

⇸ how you love the little things, capturing the world with your camera.

⇸ he practically joined photography for you. came for y/n, stayed for the fun.

⇸ it was purely an accidental confession.

⇸ you know those stupid ones where the main character is staring at their crush and blurt out how ethereal they looked?

⇸ that was gguk but like, not in a whisper.

⇸ poor boy yelled out your name and how much he loved you after he saw you laughing with your friends during photography.

⇸ he had the whole class staring at him, including you, and he wanted to D I E

⇸ dude basically screamed out that he wished he had the privilege to marry your laugh. that’s lit rally embarrassing luv.

⇸ after class, you stayed behind and walked up to him. (lol, ᶦⁿᶦᵗᶦᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰᵉʳᵉ)

⇸ dude felt like shitting his pants. you were much prettier up close. you smiled at him, a bit too wide and stuttered out that you wanted to marry his voice.

⇸ dude panicked and said “why don’t we just marry each other?” and he probably did shit his pants that day, who knows?

⇸ you smiled, and jokingly you told him “bring me an engagement ring, and i’ll think about it.”

⇸ bright and early the next morning, he handed you a small box and ran out of the classroom.

⇸ cutest confession ever.

╔═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╗

𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

╚═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════╝

⇸ jeongguk was obviously so eager to do everything with you, hold your hand, hug you, take you out on dates, just, anything he can do with and for you.

⇸ hugest simp on the block.

⇸ would literally bend over backwards just to see you smile.

⇸ you, being the lover of little things that you are, would always fix his collar, file his nails, get him banana milk when he steps on campus after long hours of editing. make him breakfast. fiddle with his hair, take pictures of him from a distance to create that weird silhouette effect thing.

⇸ unintentionally, in terms of skinship, it went hella slow.

⇸ you guys didn’t hold hands until a month and a half in, when he wanted you to stay close to him during the annual club fair.

⇸ you didn’t hug until a week afterwards, when he was leaving to go back to Busan for the break.

⇸ and you didn’t even hug as much afterwards. you guys would just stare at each other, so content, yet a feeling, a yearning for the other’s touch was evident in your eyes.

⇸ you guys would go on weekly dates. study dates, picnics, amusement park dates, aquarium dates, park dates, movie dates, every week, there was always something different, and you loved the adventurous side of gguk.

⇸ three months into the relationship, and he took you to the rooftop of one of the buildings.

⇸ it was a stargazing date this week.

⇸ gguk sang songs and you took pictures, scribbling down lyrics, and doodling as you pleased, telescope here, waiting to be used by someone other than namjoon from the astronomy club.

⇸ you were so focused on your doodles, that you practically tuned out everything around you. you hummed a song gguk would always sing while he's around you as you doodled.

⇸ didn't even notice when he stopped singing and just started to stare at you.

⇸ ask this dude what his favorite hobby is, and he'll deadass say looking at you.

⇸ the moon, coincidentally, was shining brightly that day, and the moonlight made your face glow, the side profile in which he stared at looked so much more perfect to him.

⇸ i swear, either this boy has no control over his mouth, or he's constantly shouting in his head, because he yelled out his thoughts, A G A I N

⇸ you immediately stopped your doodles, looking up at him, eyes wide, probably blushing, who knows? all you know, is that you're surprised. he wants to kiss you.

⇸ fucking F I N A L LY. like omg, you don't know how much more hints you had to throw at him, because he sure is dense sometimes.

⇸ a N Y W A Y S

⇸ you rest your book down, automatically getting up to walk towards him. and he's just staring at you man.

⇸ at this point, the both of you said fuck them stars, cause all the constellations in his honey irises looks like the perfect view, and you stuff that image in your mind to draw that because W H E T

⇸ as soon as you reach to him, bITCH you wasted no time at all. you grab him by the chin and softly place your lips on his, and like mAGIC it happened.

⇸ your lips molded together, with the satisfaction of finally finishing a a puzzle. the joy of watching the array of colors explode in the sky from the fireworks that held them captive. the relief of watching a flower fully bloom. the feeling of now entering a field on a farm, as you stare at the cloudless sky, and a gentle breeze waltz around with the trees.

⇸ you could practically taste the cherry lip balm you would often restock on whenever it did finish from his lips, and you immediately indulge in the warmth that engulfs you as he kisses you back.

⇸ in all honesty, you don't know how long it went on for. when he gripped you by the waist, or when he pulled you down on his lap. even when your fingers moved from his and wove together to the back of his neck, as you both deepened into the intoxication of each other.

⇸ sooner or later, though, you had to grasp onto the feeling of the air, and your lungs pleaded to be filled by its addiction.

⇸ your skinship after that, did change, not drastically, but it did.

⇸ life was fun now, and dating jeongguk was probably the best decision ever.

okay, am i blind or does it look like gguk has on braces ? aksnejsjansn lol

hope you guys enjoyed this. i had another version of this written, but it didn't FLIPPING SAVE.

glad it didn't though, because i honestly like this one better.

99 notes · View notes

nancywrote · 4 years

Text

do you believe in ghosts?

Steve’s a bit paranoid at times for no reason at all, it leads him to pulling all-nighters pretty often. Billy, on the other hand, stays up in fear of something completely different. They meet in the middle.

(4k words, originally posted on AO3 but I moved it here! hope you enjoy!)

Let’s be clear.

Steve doesn’t believe in ghosts.

Or aliens.

He’s very much a stick-to-the-science type of guy, especially with Dustin’s insistence on facts and just generally he’s been left alone for long enough in his life to know his house isn’t haunted, and there’s not really any factual evidence that ghosts or aliens exist.

But his parents leave him alone a lot, and his house is big and dark and Steve’s never gotten any sort of comfort or reassurance growing up for the dark corners or the rooms he’s never allowed in.

He’s been scared, because he’s been alone.

That’s all.

The dark shadows cave in on him when he’s asleep, they creep into his room from the halls and his window scares him because yeah, ghosts don’t come from windows but aliens do and intruders as well.

But, again, he doesn’t believe in aliens.

Intruders are very likely, that’s all.

Somehow, that thought still scares him. He’s defenseless, he’s weak, he’s young.

And nobody would be there to hear him or find him.

But every night, the shadows come in and Steve refuses to use his nightlight or turn the hall lights on because that’s childish and he’s not a child. The nightlight’s not even supposed to be there, his mom took it away when he was eight because she deemed him ‘brave enough’ when he managed to start pretending he was fine and no longer paranoid after their longest trip yet.

He just didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t want to embarrass her and he wanted to grow up and get over it.

But the house is just so big, and dark, and empty.

And Steve’s always alone.

The only people that know of his paranoia are Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Billy.

Dustin found out purely by coincidence, stumbled in at night to creep up on Steve to plan a surprise party for El. Steve was aware he’d come, but he forgot in his tired haze that he gave him spare keys and then Dustin walked in on him curled up on the couch with the TV blasting and blankets surrounding him.

He was fully decked out, bat nearby as well as his phone and laptop right by his head, and an array of water bottles on the table as well as a good selection of snacks to keep him company.

Nancy, when she and him made up, found him crying in his closet because he felt anxiety creep up his spine when he thought he heard a whisper and his window was a little bit open and he was too afraid to make noise so he jumped in his closet and hid in the clothes and squeezed his eyes and sobbed silently trying to calm his nerves.

He didn’t want to admit how scared he was, he tried to pretend he was just remembering bad things or he fell into the closet, but Nancy saw through it. She was so patient and accepting, she was so caring and even offered to stay some nights.

Some nights, when it gets bad, she does.

Jonathan found out through Nancy, but Steve trusts him now. Jonathan sometimes joins and they’d have nice little sleepovers where they challenge themselves to cook or do arts and crafts or follow DIY tutorials on youtube or something. It’s always fun.

Billy…

That was a hard one.

Steve’s not quite sure how or when it started.

They were enemies at first, anytime they were in a room together it was almost impossible for either of the two to emerge from it unscathed or calm. Billy picks, Steve ignores, Billy pushes, Steve gets angry. Fight ensues.

But that’s not what they really came to be, because now Billy’s the one he goes to a lot more than Nancy on the days he knows the nights are gonna be particularly rough.

Because Billy’s always up at night, always ready for a text or a call and always listening or talking when necessary, never hurting. And they don’t fight, they compromise.

They hated each other, then Steve snapped and ripped Billy apart with words and then Billy didn’t show up for a week and everyone spread rumors that he’d moved back to Cali or that he was too much of a pussy, but Max knew better and by the second half of the next week, Billy was back and biting his tongue whenever Steve was around and even offering him his notes in English.

And then they saw each other at the arcade and Billy gave him a small smile at Max’s side, and Steve went wild with how genuine it was.

It was a slow and subtle development, but Billy got better and Steve kept pushing all the while trying to be as patient as possible. It’s worth it, because now they talk a lot and Billy listens a lot and…

Steve’s feeling scared tonight.

He left a window open and unlocked again earlier, and like an idiot, he left his door unlocked when he left for school and when he came back he damn near had a heart attack.

He searched the whole house (save for the rooms he wasn’t allowed in, they were locked), and spent hours looking through cabinets and drawers and then Nancy texted him and came over to help make sure it was okay. He felt bad, but he was relieved and she had been wanting to come over anyways, it had been awhile.

She made him feel better with jokes and little distractions of hey, what’s this? followed by weird stuff he made as a child that she found littered around in drawers. For the most part, they were alien-related, sporty, or renditions of his parents.

They were very dorky.

And also, he didn’t believe in aliens by the way.

He doesn’t believe in aliens. Obviously.

But tonight he’s alone again, because Nancy had to leave early, and when Steve found that one window unlocked later on all the blood rushed to his head and he nearly passed out because he couldn’t remember if he opened it or not.

He closed it, and it was loud.

So he’s hiding, bedroom door locked, bottom of his bed stuffed with spare pillows and boxes covered with blankets, and snacks and three water bottles by his side. He’s considering buying a mini fridge to keep in every room he uses as his hiding spot.

But his laptop’s there, but it’s charging across the room and even though his closet’s slits have been duct taped and the window’s right next to his laptop shining a sweet moonlight onto it, it’s raining and he’s terrified.

Because he’s also heard of the Boogeyman.

But he doesn’t believe in it, because that’s stupid.

He’s not a child.

And, he doesn’t misbehave. The Boogeyman would never target him.

But, he cussed out some guy in gym yesterday, and maybe karma’s harsher than it is. Maybe he was lucky all the nights before, and he’s just signed his contract now.

But that’s stupid, because he doesn’t believe in the Boogeyman.

But what if the guy sneaks into the house, steals his stuff, and decides he wants more?

But that’s also stupid, because Steve knows that the man’s a sweetheart and probably didn’t even hear his stupid stress-fueled insult.

But also, anybody can come in.

The house is big, it has many windows and doors and…

A shiver runs down Steve’s spine, and he quickly grabs his phone, checking for any texts.

When it lights up all he can see is his background, a picture of him and Robin hogging her neighbor’s cat. No messages.

So he quickly tries to tap on Youtube, but his hands are too sweaty and shaky and they open up his contacts instead.

And Billy’s right there.

And Billy’s always up.

Steve gulps, takes a quick glance around his well-lit room, shudders when he looks at the window and quickly clicks on Billy’s contact.

His fingers work quicker than his brain.

Hey hargrove

It’s simple, it’s quick, he’s taken away all the extra sentences leading into rambles about if he’s sinned recently or not because that’s unnecessary and Steve doesn’t want to drive Billy away.

A few seconds pass of just rain and no response, Steve thinks maybe the other is asleep now. He’s both happy and sad, because he’s happy Billy’s getting the sleep he needs but sad because he really needs Billy and he’s feeling lonely now.

He’s still scared, but he gets pretty lonely and downtrodden when Billy’s not there.

Within, like, total reason.

Because, he’s just good friends with him now, he’d like to think.

Billy comes online, and Steve’s heart stops. He sees the three dots and with every second, he’s taking constant scans of his room trying to make sure nothing’s changed and no shadows are coming.

He wants to block his closet, the duct tape sticks out too much and makes his legs bounce with fear and uncertainty.

tonight must be my lucky night

hey princess

Steve’s heart momentarily picks up, but he ignores it. He’s too scared, and the rain’s getting louder and his windows feel so vulnerable and he feels so naked even though he’s fully dressed and maybe he’s wearing pajamas but he’s grown, he’s fine, just because his parents weren’t there doesn’t mean he didn’t learn to grow independently, he’s okay.

He wipes his palms on the blankets, takes a swig out of his water bottle to soothe his dry mouth and quickly gets to responding because he’s scared that if he doesn’t respond quick enough Billy will leave and he doesn’t want that.

Wyd?? :)

It’s a stupid, half-assed response. He knows Billy knows what’s going on, because there’s never a night when he’s not about to break down crying.

Usually though, he goes to Nancy or Jonathan or Dustin. Billy’s only every other week.

Billy’s still online. He draws his knees to his chest and practically claws at his bedside table through the snacks to get his earphones. Just to muffle the rain.

doin my hair, bored

He smiles imagining Billy curling those locks around his fingers, remembers how he winked at Steve during practice when Steve caught him ruffling his own hair and messing it up.

Can you call??

Billy’s offline for a moment, and Steve nearly breaks down sobbing thinking that that was it, he was done for and all alone and he’s stupid for even trying but then when he places his phone on his lap, it vibrates and lights up with a picture of Billy kissing a dog, smiling at someone behind the camera.

Steve’s heart warms, he himself lights up with this simple picture already and swipes to accept.

“Billy,” Steve whispers, too afraid to speak in the dark of night.

Even though his room is lit up, he knows the rest of the house isn’t. He briefly considers turning the lights off, because what if it stands out? What if they see the lights?

He’s scared of what he means by they.

He feels his shirt sticking to his skin, the dark pattern of gaming controllers don’t make him look any better.

Billy’s voice comes up after a few seconds of shuffling, which Steve can only assume is him reaching for something on his vanity. “Sorry, I’m here now.”

Those words meant a lot. His heart shook with every syllable.

“What’s up?” Billy asks. So, he didn’t really know.

That’s fine, because Steve knows he shouldn’t expect him to, because they don’t talk all the time, only usually with school.

In fact, they’re only school friends, that’s it. This is stupid, and it’s a stupid idea and the rain hits some part of the window particularly hard and Steve jumps and gasps in his bed.

“Woah there. You good, King Steve?” Billy’s voice is in his ears, drowns out the noises, keeps him comfort. Company.

“Yeah-- fuck, I’m sorry. Window was left open today, door was unlocked, scared myself,” he breathes.

He wonders if maybe he should hang up, the silence makes him feel like he interrupted something but he trusts Billy and he’s on the verge of tears.

“I-- I’m really, like--” he can’t quite breathe anymore, he keeps his phone in his lap and his chin on his knees. His thoughts are broken, and he almost feels sad.

He remembers when his mom would hold him, and sing him a lullaby.

But then he grew, and then he became nothing more than a memory to her. And then he was left to fend for himself, hum the words to a lullaby he couldn’t remember at this point and hope she’ll come back one day to stay a few nights and maybe tell him he’s okay again.

Maybe just let him know they’re not real, aliens, ghosts, the Boogeyman.

“Steve.”

Billy’s voice is sharp, cuts through his thoughts and sends him in a mild panic. Billy was speaking, Steve wasn’t registering.

“Wanna see a picture of Max? Susan sent it to me the other day,” Billy asks to change the topic.

It makes Steve’s shoulders relax, not just Billy’s voice but the ability to immerse himself in something that isn’t his room or house or window.

“Sure, show me,” he answers, grabs a chocolate bar quickly and unwraps it. Takes a small bite, even though it’s getting a little soft from how long it’s been there.

His phone dings in his lap and he picks it up, holds it in front of his face and taps out of the call screen.

It’s just a simple photo of Max at her first cat cafe, drinking tea with a cat wearing her sunglasses near her. Trying to look posh.

“That’s adorable,” he mutters, a smile tugging at his lips. The chocolate’s melting already, so he hurriedly pushes it into his mouth and tries to finish it.

“If you think that’s adorable, you should try lookin’ in the mirror, Harrington,” Billy smoothly says.

It’s so casual, so simple and clearly just something Billy just says sometimes. To anyone. He’s probably really used to slipping in lines like that.

But it still makes Steve laugh all the same, and it still warms his cheeks all the same and cools his body all the while. He swallows, tosses the wrapper into the small bin by his side. “You’re looking in one right now, aren’t you?”

The image of Billy just fiddling with his curls at his vanity, talking to Steve so sweetly while still maintaining some focus on his hair just makes the world around Steve calm a little.

But he still feels so alone, so isolated and still a little paranoid.

Because the duct tape is still on his closet, and it stands out against the brown. And the rain is still pattering his window, and even though it’s softer now it’s still showing the far too dark sky and conveniently there tree. He’s effectively locked himself in his room, and his bat is leaning on the bedside table but completely accessible to the bottom of his bed.

But he’s filled the bottom of the bed. It still scares him.

“Yeah, don’t see you though,” Billy remarks, and Steve can hear him hit his knuckle on something (presumably the edge of a table) and the faint noise of pain in the background. He giggles gently, doesn’t dare to close his eyes though.

“Ow, don’t laugh. There was a stupid fuckin’... thing in the way,” Billy says.

“Thing?” The smile shines through Steve’s voice.

“‘s just nailpolish…” he hears Billy grumble, and finds himself giggling again.

There’s the faint noise of crickets, it sends a chill down Steve’s spine. The rain’s stopped by now, just droplets running down his window and it should be reassuring but the silence makes him fear being heard in his own house.

A house is a person’s most vulnerable and personal point.

The best place to attack.

“Well,” Billy starts, and Steve hears him get into bed and possibly kick himself under the sheets, “going anywhere tomorrow?”

It’s the weekends, and Steve usually hangs out with the kids or Nancy and Jonathan.

But no, he has no plans because they’re all occupied with homework, studying, or dating.

“Nope, ditched in the name of love,” he says simply, lies back against his pillow and feels so relaxed. Probably should have done that earlier.

But like, he was just… he wasn’t scared or anything, he just didn’t feel like it.

Obviously.

Billy laughs softly, and Steve knows it’s restrained because it’s late at night and his walls aren’t the thickest, but the laugh is precious to Steve’s ears and he’s suddenly so glad he has earphones in.

“Want me to come over?”

Steve smiles wider, rolls his eyes. “Tomorrow? Yeah, sure, long as you don’t wreck the place.”

He doesn’t really care either way, because if Billy threw something, Steve would throw something too. If he chose suddenly to completely vandalize Steve’s room, Steve would join in without a wasting a second.

He just follows, because he has fun, and he’s very much blind and stupid when it comes to Billy.

Which, he’s fine with.

And it’s just because they’re good friends.

That hung out on Valentine’s Day watching a movie and ditching their plans with whoever their dates were supposed to be that week.

Because, like, those girls were just creepy. And Steve wasn’t about that, nor was Billy.

But then Billy chuckles so richly, and Steve’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt all giddy and letting himself close his eyes. He still feels tense, rigid in his bed but considerably safer with Billy right there.

“I don’t mean tomorrow, smartass, I’ll be there regardless. I mean tonight,” Billy says.

Oh.

He breathes through his nose, opens his eyes reluctantly and looks around his room. “You can do that?”

Billy’s done it before, he’s not always able to and sometimes Steve prefers he doesn’t just so he can sleep earlier, but any time he does he’s always there exactly when he says he’ll be and he’s always so good at opening Steve up and picking him apart in the nicest and loveliest ways possible.

It’s never really contact, it’s just talking and stupid things like old movies or studying but Steve finds he doesn’t really care if it’s Billy.

And he’ll take what he can get, obviously.

It’s not just Billy. Obviously.

He’s just scared.

But he swears, it’s not of aliens or ghosts or the Boogeyman.

Just intruders.

Only intruders.

“Yeah,” and Steve can hear Billy take a sip of something, could be water, alcohol, anything when it’s Billy but he knows the likely answer is apple juice.

Because Billy thinks he’s badass, but when he’s with Steve all he drinks is apple juice.

“Okay,” Steve says.

That’s all Billy needed apparently, because in the span of a minute he’s already hearing the sound of a car starting up from the other end.

He realizes Billy was probably being quieter than usual because he wasn’t in his room. He was probably in the living room, someplace close to the front door.

He was anticipating going somewhere.

Possibly to Steve’s.

But, that doesn’t matter. Probably.

Steve just keeps the smile on his face, keeps his legs crossed under the blankets now and makes sure his earphones are pushed in. Anything to distract him from his room.

The call’s still going as he hears Billy pull out the driveway, he can tell he’s on speaker now because when he coughs to block a sudden sob of fear, he hears the echo. “You good, Stevie?”

The nickname makes him feel warmer, keeps him safe. The call’s probably still going on because it’s distracting Steve and Billy knows it. It’s only a matter of time before it has to end, though.

“Yeah,” he assures, stretches and yawns.

Freezes when he hears his bed creak a little beneath him.

His body is feeling stiffer by the second.

A few minutes of silence follow. All of it makes Steve think that maybe Billy’s not there anymore, maybe Billy’s not coming, and…

And then the call ends and his throat suddenly closes up at being left alone again and he breaks into a sob.

The earphones make him all too aware of things, and he plucks them out and shoves his phone in the bundle of snacks. Doesn’t bother, he shakes with every second and his sobs are muffled by his hand in fear of being seen or heard. He keeps his eyes trained on both the window, the closet, and his bed. The idea that everything that should hold safety are things that could hold the most danger to him made him quiver.

Billy abandoned him, and he’s so sad and heartbroken by that but he’s even more frightened by the sounds of wind brushing his window and the tree right there and he wonders which version of the Boogeyman would come for him.

His blood runs cold at the sound of a doorbell, echoing through his house.

His skin is pale, eyes fixated ahead distantly until it sounds again and he jumps.

Immediately, Steve rolls off the bed and unlocks his door. He doesn’t know what’s gonna happen, it feels like it’s a long way to the front door, but he walks anyways.

Quick, long and silent steps. Careful to avoid the parts of the floor he knows will make too much sound. He’s timed how fast it would take for him to get from his door to the front door or any other exit, he’s carefully made out each step in the ground that could lead his fears to him, he’s mapped out safe spots that are really just empty or random enough rooms for whatever to not look in first.

But that doesn’t matter, because his front door’s right there and he’s hoping it’s Nancy, Jonathan, or fuck, even his parents.

And he opens it, crying, and it’s Billy.

Billy’s dressed in his usual cool kid get up, but the moment his eyes land on Steve’s face, he shrugs his jacket off and wraps it around Steve’s shaking body, runs in and closes the door behind him. “Hey, hey, baby,” he coos.

Steve practically locks his arms around Billy, starts full on sobbing with relief and his heart just kicks in in the right way again. “Billy,” he hiccups, muffled in the shirt of the dirty blonde’s.

The other wraps his arms around him, squeezes him reassuringly then starts leading them to the living room.

It’s gentle, the way he drags them both down to the couch and turns the TV on. It’s caring, the way he rubs his thumb on Steve’s temple while he fiddles with the remote. It’s real, it’s raw, and it’s nothing supernatural or scary or mean.

Billy was never really any of that, and Steve understands.

But right now, as he crumbles in Billy’s arms, he doesn’t want to understand anything, because he just wants to be safe and okay and now that Billy’s here his house has never felt safer.

It’s like once Billy stepped in, his house exploded with color and meaning and safety.

He can’t deny that.

Billy pulls Steve up so that he’s effectively trapped against Billy’s chest, wrapped in the safety of his arms and jacket acting as a blanket against the cold living room. Billy smells like roses, it brings Steve some feeling of okayness.

He just sobs, head buried in the crook of Billy’s neck while Billy tenderly rubs his temple and back. The TV is quiet, but it’s there. He can hear the opening to Spongebob. It’s stupid, but it keeps Steve awake.

“It’s okay, I’m right here, princess,” Billy whispers, tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair and rubs at his scalp so reassuringly. He believes him. He trusts him.

“I thought you were-- I thought--” Steve practically wheezes, nuzzling Billy’s collarbone with his chin trying to regulate his breathing, “I thought you left--” his voice trails off into an almost-whine, drags out in the worst and most broken way possible and he feels weak and vulnerable and childish.

And Billy,

Billy nods, tries his best to keep them both on the couch and then hums, and fucking…

Kisses Steve’s temple.

His breath catches in his throat, his heart thrums in a different kind of way now and he grips Billy’s shirt tighter. His sobbing is effectively slowed, silenced, interrupted.

“I know. I’m sorry, Steve. I won’t leave you ever. Promise,” Billy says, keeps his cool despite his action and rubs circles into Steve’s back with one finger so caringly.

Steve closes his eyes, fully lets himself get encased by Billy’s arms and nods. He feels a little childish, until Billy tenderly pushes him back a little and he lets out a confused noise.

His face is red, lips plumped and cheeks wet. Billy wouldn’t like to see that.

But Billy smiles at him, and Steve sees his eyes are glassy, and he wants to kiss his eyes or him and then Billy holds out one hand.

One pinky.

“Pinky promise.”

Steve’s mouth drops a little, surprise and warmth filling him. Happiness.

He raises his pinky and entwines it with Billy’s. Lets it sit for a bit then just envelops Billy in an immediate pounce of a hug.

Billy gasps a happy ‘oh’ at that and hugs back, smiles against Steve’s shoulder.

They’re not childish.

They’re not kids.

They’re them, so fuck whoever thinks that pinky promises are lame. It’s their pinky promise.

The hug definitely drags out, it’s definitely not a hug by the time Steve’s dozing off in Billy’s neck and it’s definitely not a hug anymore when their legs are intertwined and Billy’s arm is right beneath Steve’s head, providing a much better pillow than the armrests of the couch.

And Billy hums, and Steve damn near starts sobbing again. Almost.

The tune of a lullaby.

“Sleep pretty darling, do not cry…”

His voice is shaky, unused, but it’s beautiful and it hits the notes just the way Steve’s mother used to but so much more genuine and loving.

“... and I will sing a lullaby…”

Billy’s voice isn’t the most gorgeous singing voice, but it’s raw and it reminds Steve of playing in bands as a child and rocking the guitar. It’s not tea-flavored, but it’s rose-colored.

“Golden slumbers fill your eyes…”

The lyrics, spot on and everything Steve never remembered. But he doubts he’ll forget ever again, because Billy’s never sung before and maybe he’s singing it right now because…

Because Steve would hum it in practice, because Steve would talk about his mom singing him songs whenever it came to poetry in class, because Steve loved to listen to songs with a similar enough tune in a desperate search for it and Steve would mutter the words incoherently trying to remember it.

Because Billy knows Steve, and they’re good friends.

Because Billy notices these things about him.

And he cares about him.

“Smiles await you when you rise…”

Steve raises his head, finds Billy with his eyes closed drifting off as well, but can feel his thumb still rubbing circles in his back.

“Sleep pretty darling, do not cry… and I will sing a lullaby.”

And when Billy’s fully off into dreamland, Steve places a long, tender peck on the ridge of his jaw.

Because he cares too.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things steve #stranger things billy #st3 #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #my fic #fanfic #if you're reading htis...#my prompts are open! i'd like to practice different methods/styles of writing #or just generally writing as well as getting out of a small writer's block #so feel free to leave harringrove requests/prompts in my ask!! <3 #thanks for reading!

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hotastrotakes · 4 years

Note

What do you think of Aquarius sun.Mercury.Venus, Scorpio rising with an Aries moon and Mars ?

Aquarius Sun: Aquariuses are innate rebels and revolutionaries. To others, they seem a bit weird, but really they just prize their individuality above all else. As an air sign, you have a lack of grounding energy, which manifests itself in your inventive behavior. You probably have a million ideas bouncing around your head at once.

Aries Moon: You are impulsive and rash in your decision-making: instead of thinking things through, you prefer to act immediately. You have very intense desires and you’re a bit of a hedonist; if something makes you feel good, you’ll do it regardless of the consequences.

Scorpio Rising: You’re a man of mystery in everyone’s eyes, but you’re so magnetic that people want to get to know you despite your distance: in some ways, it’s your aura of secrecy that draws people in. This is the strongest ascendant, meaning it very heavily influences the way other people think of you.

Aquarius Mercury: You’re a bit of a wild card in the way you communicate and behave: people never know what exactly you’re going to do next or what kind of crazy shit you’ll say. However, that doesn’t mean you’re illogical or dumb: you just have a lot of stuff on your mind and an array of ways you can say it.

Aquarius Venus: You like a partner who’s whip-smart and can appreciate your ideas and intellect. Although commitment is difficult for you, when you find someone who understands how your weird-ass brain works, you’re intrigued. You may have a lot of flings.

Aries Mars: This is a scary placement. When you’re angry, you tend to get very aggressive, and your rage is not something that I would want to be on the receiving end of. You’re intensely prideful. The one upside is that your anger doesn’t last very long, but when it’s there, hoo boy it’s a lot.

#astrology #horoscope #chart analysis #Zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #Sagittarius #Capricorn #Aquarius #Pisces

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numba99 · 4 years

Text

Fatal Attraction - Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

summary: When a mysterious man shows up at your job, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him - and him to you. But behind the beautiful face is the dark lifestyle of a man who has made his wealth through becoming the most powerful drug dealer in the city. Word count: 3.1k

warning: smut, chunk of this isn't proof read don’t hate me

It took all of two mornings waking up to Mika to convince you to move in with him. You were surprised at yourself, usually your resolve was a lot stronger. But Mika was, well, Mika and even though he wasn’t putting any pressure on you to make a decision, the thought of waking up to a bed without him in it was enough to make up your mind.

You didn’t tell him, not yet at least. Mika was bringing out the sentimentality in you, something you haven’t felt in quite some time. You knew you wanted to make it special, you just didn’t know how yet. Mika had already made plans for the two of you today, so you were hoping something might spark your creativity.

“Shopping?” you asked as you fished through your duffle bag for something to wear. Another reason you needed to figure out what you wanted to do quickly: you were running out of outfits in your duffle bag.

“Yeah you know you go into a store and pick out what you li-”

“I know what shopping is,” you rolled your eyes, cutting off his joke, “I meant like I didn't expect that to be on the agenda today. I would have thought you had more important things to do.”

Mika shook his head, “That’s what I pay other people to take care of. They can survive awhile without me. What’s important to me today is that I get to spend time with you.”

You blushed, leaning into the soft kiss he placed on your forehead. “So where are we gonna go?” you questioned. You remember hearing something about Old Navy having a sale and you were in need of some new sweaters with the cold weather rolling in.

“I was thinking we could hit Madison Avenue, maybe a bit of 5th depending what you wanna get,” Mika replied casually.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “I couldn’t even tell you what stores are there. Even if I could I couldn’t afford a single thing from them.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m buying today,” Mika replied, pulling on a sleek leather jacket. It fit him perfectly and looked incredibly expensive. You guessed you shouldn’t have been shocked that he was not Old Navy bound,

“No way Mika, I can't have you dropping that kind of money on me,” you shook your head.

“What’s the point of having tons of money if I can’t spend it on my beautiful girlfriend?” Mika replied, reaching his hand out for you to take.

“I know but still,” you nibbled your lip, taking his hand. Despite being unsure, you let him lead you out.

“Would it make you feel better if the first place we go is for me?” he asked.

“Yes actually, I would enjoy that,” you nodded. Watching him try on some expensive clothes? Sounded like a good afternoon to you.

In the back seat of the car you watched as the city streets morphed in a luxurious outdoor mall. Each storefront was more extravagant than the last, inviting shoppers to come in and spend more than most probably make in a few weeks of work. Luxury stuff had always seemed silly to you, you didn't necessarily believe it was any better than anything else. It was just the name you were paying to flash your status to everyone else.

Still, you weren’t immune to the lure of it all... the stuff was nice after all. There were a few stores that caught your eye and you memorized the names so you could tell Mika where you wanted to go later. You still planned to be conservative with your purchases, though. There was no need to ring up a crazy bill. Maybe just a sweater (which you needed) and a purse (which you just wanted).

“Here,” Mika broke into you imaginary shopping list. Mika helped you out of the car and led you into the store, which had La Perla in gold script above the doorway. You furrowed your brows when you were met by a store filled entirely with lingerie.

“I thought we were shopping for y- oh.” As the words left your mouth it hit you. The clothes may be for you, but the experience was for him. The smirk on Mika’s face told you you were right.

“Here I was thinking I’d be watching you try a bunch of suits on,” you remarked, running your hand over a lacy bra.

Mika chuckled, “Not exactly.” He wandered away from you, distracted by something red and skimpy in the corner. You did some wandering yourself, drawn to some of the softer pink items they had. You spent so much time in the overtly sexy stuff as a stripper that you thought it would be a nice change to try some of the more delicate pieces.

You flipped the price tag over on a pretty pink lace bra and nearly gasped. Over $300 fro a bra?? This place was definitely not your speed. You were about to go find Mika to tell him this place was ridiculous when you found him making a beeline to you. A black lace teddy in hand, of course.

“I need you to try this on,” Mika said, a hint of strain in his voice. You had to know, you grabbed the tag and read the price.

“Mika this is over $400!” you whisper exclaimed. As stupid as you thought it was you didn't the salespeople to hear you say it. “This is ridiculously expensive.”

“No it’s not.” Mika replied.

You picked up the bra you were looking at and shook it at him, “This should not cost $300 dollars. Thats insanity!”

Mika laughed at your indignation. “Look I know it seems expensive but image the number is off the price. It may say $429 but to me that really like $42 or something. This isn’t a lot to me, so don’t stress about it,” Mika explained, “And I definitely think you should try the pink one too.”

It was weird, you knew Mika had a lot of money - his apartment was more than proof of that - but it was still so foreign to you to have someone talk so nonchalant about spending all that money. It was so far removed from the life you’ve lived, that was for sure.

But the way Mika was looking at you right now... you couldn't resist. You handed him the bra, eliciting a triumphant smile. The two of you shopped a little while longer, which was basically Mika picking out the sexiest things he could find and you ignoring the price tags.

Eventually, the two of you collected an impressive pile and headed for the dressing room. Mika slipped the attendant a couple hundreds and whispered, “We’d like privacy.”

“Of course sir,” she replied quickly, squirreling away the money. Mika wasn’t famous and there was no way the woman even knew who he was aside from being a rich dude with money. Yet, there was a way people regarded Mika, it was like he demanded respect without even having to ask and everyone readily gave it up. His presence alone was powerful and, apparently, very palpable, even to those he has just met. Even with all the time you spent with him, it still made your stomach do flips.

Mika hung up the items he picked out in one of the dressing rooms - which looked nicer than any room in your apartment. “Save the black one for last,” Mika instructed, before pulling the curtain over, leaving you alone to change.

You stared at the array of luxe fabrics before you, trying to figure out wear to start. You decided on a barely-there red two piece because why not start it off with a bang?

It was strange, though, staring at yourself in the sexy little set. Sure, you’ve worn more provocative stuff on stage, which Mika had seen. Hell, you just had sex, there wasn’t much he hadn't seen of you. But something about being dressed up for him in the bright dressing room lights, with nothing to hide behind was intimate for you in away that made your heart race.

You couldn’t keep him waiting forever, though. With a deep breath, you pulled aside the curtain dividing the two of you. Mika immediately perked up, drawing in a breath.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Oh come on, it’s not like you haven't seen this before,” you brushed him off, as if his reaction to you wasn’t fueling your ego.

“Doesn’t mean you still don’t take my breath away,” he replied, reaching out for you. You obliged, stepping close enough to allow him to run his hands up and down your sides.

“I don’t think you’re gonna make it through all the lingerie I have to try on,” you teased. Honestly, though, if he kept looking at you like that you weren’t going to make it through either.

Mika chuckled, sitting back in his chair, “Don’t worry baby, I’m a patient man. Now try on that pink one, yeah? I think it will suit you perfectly.” As you spun around to he'd back into the dressing room Mika gave your ass a playful slap. You let out a little shriek giggle as you shut the curtain behind that.

And you went on like that for a while, trying on ridiculously expensive lingerie and having Mika all but drool over you every time. Each time it got harder to retreat back into the dressing room and not straddle his lap and kiss that teasing smirk off his face.

Finally you made it to the black lace teddy, which you knew Mika was most excited about. At first you thought it would be nothing special, but when you put it on you never felt sexier. It hugged your body perfectly, accentuating every curve. The delicate lace inked a deep black made it a perfect balance of pretty and sexy.

“Wow,” was all Mika could manage when you stepped out for him.

“You like?” you arched your brow, a smile playing at your lips.

“Love,” Mika replied, standing up and stepping towards you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips found yours and it was like a switch flipped. His soft, demure touches were now hungry. He kissed you deeply, as he walked you back into the dressing you. He pulled the curtain over and pushed you agains the wall.

“Mika,” you gasped, surprised his sudden burst of dominance, “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Mika asked, kiss down your body, his finger ghosting over your clothed core.

“We can’t do this, people are in the store,” you whispered, ignoring how good it felt to have him touching you. You knew it was wrong, but the idea of being caught any moment was getting you even more turned on.

“I told them to leave us alone,” Mika replied, lips still peppering kisses over your skin.

“I don’t think they includes having sex in their store,” you shot back, fighting back a moan.

Mika was eye level with you again, his hand cupping your chin. “You can be quiet for me, right honey?” he asked. His eyes were always so soft looking, but the way they clouded with lust in that moment made it impossible for you to say no.

You nodded and Mika flashed a dazzling smile before return to work. He was back on his knees, crouching before you. He slipped down the fabric down your body, letting it pool at your feet. You didn’t miss the way he licked his lips before going in for your thighs.

He kissed there for awhile, alternating between each leg to get you extra needy. His teasing didn't last too long; he was just as eager to taste you as you were to feel him. You pressed your back against the wall as his lips found your core to keep yourself steady. Mika slung a leg over his shoulder to allow him better access to you.

“Fuck, Mika,” you half whispered hand moaned. Your hands tangled through his hair has licked circles around your clit. It felt so good you were almost trying to push him away, but Mika didn’t budge. He kept pressing his face into you, like he couldn’t get enough. It was all too much, the scratch of his beard against your inner thighs, his tongue moving expertly across you, and the sounds of him eating you out. A few moments later you were practically collapsing on top of him as you came.

“Fucking hell,” you said breathlessly as Mika finished you off. He stood back up, wiping off his chin and grinning widely.

“So you enjoyed yourself?” he smirked.

“That’s an understatement,” you replied, “Do you need...” your voice trailed off as you eye his pants.

Mika shook his head, “Today’s all about you. Speaking of which, we are buying all of this.” Mika stepped out to let you change. You laughed to yourself that he was just very intimate with your body and was now acting modest when you had to put your clothes back on.

You tried not to think about what you just did as the two of you brought the lingerie to the register because you were afraid they’d be able to see it on your face. If they had any inclination of what occurred in their dressing room, they weren't showing it. The rung up well over a months worth of rent in lingerie and Mika swiped his card without batting an eye.

“Thank you, Mika. Everything is beautiful, I appreciate it,” you replied as you walked back out on to the street, “And I cannot wait to wear it all for you.”

“Me too,” he smiled.

The two of you went around to a bunch of different stores, dropping more than you ever thought was possible in a single day. And that was with you being modest about what you wanted. You knew you could have picked out piles of clothes and Mika wouldn't have cared, but you weren't there yet.

“I've got one more place I wanna go,” Mika told you, taking your hand despite having all the bags on his arms. He refused to let you carry any of them. Mika led you towards a store with rich, red awnings that read Cartier.

You were immediately greeted by a salesperson, whisked away your bags so you could shop unencumbered. Rich people really were indulged. You walked around the glass-encased jewelry, which sparkled magnificently.

“So many pretty things to put on you,” Mika whispered over your shoulder. You giggled, leaning into the kiss he planted on your cheek.

“What a gorgeous couple,” a salesman noted, smiling brightly at the two of you, “Can I show you some pieces?”

“Please,” Mika replied. The man motioned for you to follow him, and you did, right to a velvet red chair at the end of the counter. He pulled out an array of options, each more impressive than the next.

You spent a decent amount of time trying different pieces on. At one point you thought you could have close to a hundred thousands worth of jewelry on. Mika loved every minute of it, of course. His favorites were always the necklaces, partly because he got to help you put those on, but mostly because he loved how the sparkled by your cleavage.

Everything was beautiful, but the last piece you tried on was your favorite. It was simple, to circles enclosed together, one dotted with diamonds around the entire circumference.

“That’s our Love necklace,” the salesman told you. That was fitting. You gave Mika a soft smile, and he knew that that was winner piece. Before Mika could tell him you’d take it, his phone rang.

He looked as his phone and a frown flashed across his face. “I’m so sorry, just excuse me for a second.”

“You're a lucky woman,” the salesman said when Mika was out of earshot. You smiled and nodded, watching Mika pace as he listened to the person on the other end. Something was up.

“You okay?” you asked when he finally returned.

“I’ve gotta go, Chris needs me,” he replied, trying to sound calm but their was an edge of nerves in his voice. That definitely freaked you out.

“Is everything okay?” you asked again.

Mika composed himself for you. “Yes, I’ll explain later,” Mika’s eyes darted to the salesman as if to say he couldn’t speak about it now, “I’ll send a car to take you home.”

“We aren't leaving together?”

“No, I need to get there right away,” Mika replied, tapping away at his phone. He turned to the salesman, “Can you hold some of these items for us? We’ll be back another day for them. And, here, for your discretion.” He tossed some hundreds down and the salesman nodded eagerly.

“My other driver isn’t answering and I don’t want you in a random Uber,” Mika frowned at his phone.

“Mika, I’ll be fine, okay? Take the car and get to wherever you need to go,” you told him.

“How will you get home?”

“This may shock you but below this city there are tons of trains under this city. I’ve heard you can use them to get around,” you joked.

The pulled a smile from him at least. “Never lose your attitude,” he grinned, before turning more serious, “Text me the second you get home. Or if you need anything at all. I’ll drop everything and come to you, okay?”

“Of course,” you replied, “Go do what you need to do and then we can try out some of these.” You tapped the bag from La Perla.

Mika smiled, “I can’t wait.” With that, he kissed your forehead and was gone.

You tried not to worry too much as you made your way home. Mika always handled his shit well, and you didn’t wanna make yourself crazy jumping to the most dangerous conclusion. Besides, you needed, to focus on getting home because now it was dark and you weren’t familiar with this part of town.

You tried to follow a shortcut, but realized you misread the map and didn’t know where you were. No reason to panic, you’ve gotten yourself lost more times than you could count and always made it out. But maybe this time if you hadn’t been so focused on finding your way, you would have noticed the guy who was tailing you since you walked out of Cartier. And maybe if you noticed that, it wouldn’t have been such a shock when the back of your head was hit hard, turning your whole world black.

#fatal attraction #m zibanejad #mika zibanejad imagine #mika zibanejad smut #new york rangers imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines

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rhowena · 4 years

Text

Pile of stuff concerning what happened to Loki between Thor and The Avengers

Originally posted on r/FanTheories

https://inforapid.org/webapp/webapp.php?shareddb=IAxUFHnwkGJSYMj9OFbT8mRl5goHm9SC2qHbWw4knO1cng5qI5Wrg48nP1MdgbWlJmHj6UpwbN343IqnstQUwxIIO01M5Rvb

As it does not escape my notice that I’ve created a digital version of this meme, some navigation help for anyone who needs it:

Mouse over/tap an item or relation to view its description

For items with the yellow ‘Note’ label, select the node and then 'Notes on Item’ in the side menu to view an additional notes page

If an item has a globe icon it the top-left corner, click it to open a webpage

'Adjust View’ in the side menu has controls to zoom in/out, increase/decrease the distance between items, and filter items or relations by category

Relations (and items) are color-coded by type: solid green lines are for in-universe evidence (light green connects evidence to the theory it supports, while dark green connects pieces of evidence that should be looked at together), purple dotted lines denote parallels, and dark red lines mark cases of “one of these things is not like the other”

And an overview of the theories contained therein:

First, the central piece of tinfoil around which all other tinfoil is arrayed: remember how, at the end of the first Thor, Loki was pathologically obsessed with gaining his father’s approval? And how, when he next showed up after vanishing for an entire year, he’d gotten mixed up with a guy who keeps a menagerie of adopted children? And how, during his argument with Thor on the mountaintop, he said this?

Loki: Did you mourn? Thor: We all did. Our father– Loki: Your father. He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?

Loki: I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract and when I wield it—

Tom Hiddleston: There’s a bit where Thor says, “We all mourned! Our father…” and Loki interrupts him and says, “YOUR father.” And it’s that sense of 'don’t include me in this anymore. I have no relation or connection to you.’ It’s his way of saying 'I’ve let go, I’m gone, I’m on the outside of the fence, I’m happy here, I don’t want to come back in.’

If I may take a minute to get out some of my extremely complicated feelings on this, while there’s a bunch more evidence in favor of Loki having been another of Thanos’s children that can be viewed on the mind map, I want to highlight this pair of quotes because it’s everything implied by the words “Your father” that makes it into a devastating punch in the stomach which draws on both halves of Loki’s Woobie, Destroyer of Worlds characterization: his genuine love for his family is his primary redeeming quality and that he forswore it like this puts the terrible moment when he first knelt before Thanos and pledged himself to the Mad Titan’s service firmly into archetypal Faustian sell-your-soul territory, but when you consider the straits he was in at the time and the implication that Thanos initially ensnared him not through promises of power but by preying on him emotionally, it’s a very human kind of tragic mistake.

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The other mitigating factor is that based on everything we’ve heard from Thanos’s other children, it’s a safe bet that he did in fact do unspeakably horrible things to Loki too – indeed, noticing the resemblance between the existing theories about Loki having been tortured/brainwashed and Gamora’s “He took me, tortured me, turned me into a weapon” was what prompted the above realization in the first place. (It’s reminiscent of Theon’s storyline in ASOIAF/GOT: yeah, he betrayed his adoptive family and did some generally awful stuff, but no one deserves what happened to him.) It also bears emphasizing that accountability cuts both ways: one of the key takeaways from the previous bullet point is that the suffering Loki went through doesn’t absolve him of responsibility for his villainous actions, but the other side of the coin is that Loki’s partial complicity doesn’t absolve Thanos of responsibility for the choice he made to take a broken, desperate young man who’d just lost everything and turn him into the rabid animal we saw during The Avengers, and I dearly hope that exploring the rich font of psychological horror that is that time period will erase any remaining doubt that Thanos’s claims of acting For The Greater Good are nothing but empty, egotistical, self-righteous posturing and everyone in the audience who insists on taking them at face value is being duped just as Loki was.

Stephen: No. I mean, come on. Look at your face. Dormammu made you a murderer. Just how good can his kingdom be?

As for where this is all going, I believe there’s a good chance that the Loki Disney+ series will be where they finally address this as a. the split timeline Loki the series will be following is still fresh from his time with Thanos and it will therefore have to explain what happened if we’re to understand the kind of headspace that he’s in at that moment and b. Tom Hiddleston has revealed that the series will also clarify whether or not Loki really is dead in the main timeline, and everything I have so far indicates that understanding the nature of his original pact with Thanos is essential to understanding both Loki’s choice to die and Thanos’s choice to kill him (see the 'Pledge of fidelity’ and 'Limited use’ notes pages on the mind map). Character-wise, I think one of the points of emphasis will be that Loki’s death in Infinity War doesn’t wrap up his story as neatly as it may appear to on the surface; truly completing his redemption arc will require him to confront this part of his past in full, and with it his guilt over everything he’s done and his fear that he’s wrecked his life and relationship with his family so thoroughly that he can never, ever fix them.

Loki: Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? […] Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer… PATHETIC! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code. Something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will *never* go away!

An additional giant red flag indicating we really should be asking more questions about that time gap is a group of lines in The Avengers which reveal that Thanos taught Loki how to use the Tesseract.

The Other: The Tesseract has awakened. It is on a little world. A human world. They would wield its power, but our ally knows its workings as they never will.

The Other: You question us? You question HIM? He, who put the Scepter in your hand? Who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose when you were cast out, defeated?

Loki: I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract and when I wield it— Thor: Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?

Sharing that kind of knowledge and power with someone as volatile as Loki strikes me as an monumentally terrible idea (and as much as I don’t want to be the person who throws a tantrum because their fanfic didn’t come true, I’m kinda salty that Thanos was defeated without it coming back to bite him in the ass), which leaves me wondering what Thanos hoped to gain that he believed would be worth the risks. My thoughts on that particular sub-puzzle are still somewhat hazy, but my basic sense is that there’s something weird going on between Loki and the Tesseract and wanting to exploit that connection is one of the reasons Thanos went to all the trouble of breaking him into submission.

Loki: So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?

The other reason for Thanos’s interest in Loki ties back to all that emotional twistiness I talked about earlier: he planned to leverage Loki’s anger and resentment towards his family in a bid to destroy Odin and Asgard from the inside.

Zemo: An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead… forever.

As a prelude to this, during The Avengers Thanos had additionally tasked Loki with killing Thor as a way to prove his loyalty and destroy the last remaining shreds of his own humanity, a test Loki failed because he still loved his brother too much.

Coulson: You’re going to lose. It’s in your nature. […] You lack conviction.

What’s more, Thanos anticipated this, and the Scepter’s influence over Loki was aimed at forcing him to go through with it if he refused.

Loki: I won’t touch Barton, not until I make him kill you! Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear! And then he’ll wake, just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I’ll split his skull!

Lastly, even with Infinity War having established that Thanos simply gets off on emotional torture, that he would go out of his way to fuck with Odin personally by turning his second son against him leads me to believe there was a special hatred there stemming from some as-yet unrevealed history between the two. I mean, when I picture the alternate universe where Thanos shows up to attack Asgard with a corrupted Loki in tow like “You screwed up so badly that he chose me as a father figure over you” …that isn’t something you say to a complete stranger.

GRRM on writing villain POVs: That’s a comic book kind of thing, where the Red Skull gets up in the morning [and asks] “What evil can I do today?” Real people don’t think that way. We all think we’re heroes, we all think we’re good guys. We have our rationalizations when we do bad things. “Well, I had no choice,” or “It’s the best of several bad alternatives,” or “No it was actually good because God told me so,” or “I had to do it for my family.” We all have rationalizations for why we do shitty things or selfish things or cruel things. So when I’m writing from the viewpoint of one of my characters who has done these things, I try to have that in my head.

#mcu #loki #thor #thanos #odin #loki's missing year #theory #analysis #mind map #i swear i will turn this into an actual essay one of these days

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duhragonball · 5 years

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Dragon Ball Z 040

Last time, Bulma got captured by aliens. The good news is that it’s not that kind of anime, but the bad news is that it’s still anime, so she spends the whole episode stealth cosplaying Ellen Ripley in Alien.

Also, the aliens holding guns on the gang are all frightened children, so that makes things a little awkward.

They narrowly escaped a bunch of space invaders, and they think Krllin, Gohan, and Bulma are part of that group. This assumption gets dumber the more we find out about the bad guys. For openers, I’m pretty sure alien marauders wouldn’t wear a knit shirt that looks like it came out of my little brother’s closet back when he was five. Bulma’s not dressed at all, which seems pretty un-menacing, and Gohan’s even younger than all of these refugees.

Krillin tells Gohan to power up, since it looks like they’ll have to fight their way out of this, but then a little girl runs up and kicks him in the shin. Who’s the real alien monster here, I ask you? Not Krillin, that’s for sure.

The boys in charge decide they have to kill their prisoners, since they must be working for some guy named “Frieza.” Typical filler episode, introducing characters and concepts that’ll never get mentioned again.

Despite all the guns, the kids are reluctant to actually kill anyone, and then an alarm goes off. Turns out the ship flew into a field of meteors. Okay, I don’t want to sound like a killjoy, but stuff like this bugs me in outer space stories. Space is huge, and so are asteroid fields, meteor showers, whatever. Typically, every fictional spaceship has a seemingly all-seeing sensor array, which can detect anything that happens outside and throw an alarm. But the damn thing never actually alarms until they’re already in danger. If you think about the guy designing the ship, wouldn’t it make a lot more sense to alert the crew before they got close enough to hit something? Because, again, space is huge. However they ran into this obstacle, they’ve been heading towards it for a long time.

On the other hand, the bridge is being staffed by more frightened children, so that probably explains a lot about their crappy protocols. Someone probably put the red alert klaxon in silent mode because it interrupted their screening of “Frozen”. Kids, am I right? Well, this isn’t one of your video games. This is real life, and you only get one life in this “stage”. So I suggest you unlock a new achievement by putting away your smartphones and doing some hard work for a change.

Sorry, I was trying to mock grumpy old people on Facebook, but I ended up disgusting myself. What frightens me is that there’s probably people younger than I am who will eventually talk like that. Hell, some of them probably already do. Some idiot at my job put a printout on the bulletin board that had some quote about working hard, and it was attributed to Thomas Jefferson, and it took all my willpower not to write on it “Jefferson owned slaves. He literally forced other people to do his work for him.” But chances are he never even said the quote.

Anyway, these kids are clearly out of their depth, is my point.

Back on Earth, Goku’s in the hospital, and he’s freaking out because the doctor’s going to stick him with a needle. The doctor gives him that horseshit about how Goku’s being a baby because he hasn’t even stuck him yet. Yeah, he knows that, stupid. He’s upset because you’re going to stick him with a needle, because he doesn’t like needles. If you had already done it, he wouldn’t care, because it would be over.

I mean, seriously, fuck this guy. Goku got crushed half-to-death by a giant ape. The pain isn’t the issue here. He doesn’t like the idea of having a thin piece of metal jabbed into his veins. It’s the idea of it, that’s the problem. Honestly, for me, the worst part about giving blood is when they prep my arm, and then later when I can feel the tube laying on my arm, and it’s warm. Would it kill them to put a towel or something under it so it wouldn’t feel as weird? Has that been an option all along and I just didn’t know to ask? Maybe I could move it over myself, but no way in hell do I want to look in the general direction of that arm while the business is happening. Would I pass out at the sight of the tube? Maybe not, but I refuse to find out the hard way. I’ll ask God when I die. Is that weird? A lot of things in life just don’t have answers available, and I console myself by thinking I can just do a Q&A with God in the afterlife. The Almighty might refuse to tell me, but at least then I’d know that it’s just impossible for me to find out, and that’s sort of comforting in a way.

Chi-Chi shames Goku in public, but that’s totally different. The doctor’s supposed to show some compassion and make Goku feel better. Chi-Chi, on the other hand, is clearly doing some sort of kink thing that only she and Goku know about. Look at that face. That is a thirsty man, right there.

Back in space, Bulma wants to bug out while they still can, but Krillin and Gohan want to help the kids.

Of course, there’s not a whole lot martial artists can do in a situation like this, but the boys can lift stuff, so they do.

Bulma then gets frustrated with the ship’s pilot and takes over for him.

Kid, if looks could kill...

She mostly works out the controls on her own, and snaps at a kid whenever she gets stuck.

For some reason the helm control looks like a keyboard, which seems a bit complicated. It looks more like Bulma is coding a program instead of directly controlling the ship. Anyway, her fingers are just flying on that keyboard. Definitely a rare hero moment for Bulma

Meanwhile, Gohan shoots something with a Masenko. Not sure how that’s a good idea on a spaceship, but good hustle, Gohan.

Then, after Bulma flies them to safety, the kids still draw their guns on her, and accuse her of working for Frieza. Look, the thing is, Frieza doesn’t even have any women on his team. Unless this is some fandom AU where he’s surrounded by OC consorts, in which case I guess a blue-haired lady in her undies would fit right in. “Yes, you certainly did an.... adequate job piloting this vessel, my dear. However, I have other duties for you now... of the bedroom variety.” “As you command, my lord.” You still don’t need to hold a gun on her, though.

Can I just say that Bulma looks ri-friggin’-diculous in this episode? Who was this for, exactly? I mean, she looks normal for the style of this show, but that doesn’t lend itself to fanservice at all. Like, her left arm looks okay, and the rest of her is all boxy and weird. It’s like a self-hating hentai dude commissioned this. He wanted to see Bulma in her underwear, but he didn’t want to enjoy it. Oh, and I just noticed her weird baby hand. Yeesh.

One of the kids is convinced that Krillin and Gohan are bad guys because they have super powers, but the ones who saw them help out know better. I guess Bulma looks a little closer to the “sexy cartoon woman” style here, but I don’t think the fanservice crowd would settle for a shot like this.

So now that everyone’s friends, the kids explain how their planet was invaded by guys working for some dork named “Frieza”, and their leader was apparently Cui, who we’ll meet a few episodes later. Krillin finds the story similar to how the Saiyans operated, but the kids say their attackers didn’t have tails. To be fair, Vegeta has no tail either, at the moment, but whatever.

The adults on the planet were slaughtered to clear the land for Frieza’s use, but they managed to evacuate the children onto spaceships.

But Frieza’s men chased them all down, except for this one, which was chrome-plated. Apparently this was all they had to do for camouflage? Seems a little fishy to me.

I don’t understand why the parents sent their kids off in spaceshps without sending at least some adults along to take care of them. They just tossed them on a ship full of guns and booby traps and no one knows how to fly it, and that was their plan? Maybe there was an adult pilot, and he got killed at some point. The Earthlings ask them where they’re headed, and they explain that there’s another planet where they think they’ll be taken in. You’d think Bulma would offer to double-check their heading, or at least teach them how to fly their own ship so they don’t run into any more trouble, but nah.

When he finds out they’re going to Namek, the refugee leader gives them coordinates for a shortcut, and Bulma rushes off to make use of it. You know these are just children, right? Their own shortcut took them through an asteroid field, so maybe you shouldn’t be following their advice too closely.

Then we cut to Planet Frieza No. 79. Is this the same planet the kids came from? It’d tie things together nicely, I suppose.

Frieza’s men detect Vegeta’s ship coming in for a landing, so they send out guys to meet him. One of them is a dog, and the other looks suspiciously like Sam Guthrie from the New Mutants.

But he doesn’t get out of the pod, and this raises some questions. First, where’s Nappa? Second, who wrecked Vegeta’s shit?

So they slap him in a regeneration tank. It’ll heal him faster than the treatment Goku is currently getting, but let’s remember that it took Vegeta 18 days to get here, so he’s probably in even worse shape than he was in when he left Earth. Also, the healing tank isn’t exactly a quick process.

Get used to this shot, is what I’m saying.

In space, Bulma takes the ship on the shortcut to Namek, and this leads them into the opening of a Looney Toons short. I hope it’s not a Foghorn Leghorn one. Those aren’t as good.

There’s some space turbulence, and Bulma ends up landing in Krillin’s lap, so she slaps him for copping a feel. Why is she still undressed?

Doesn’t matter, because they’ve finally reached Namek! And it looks... a little paler than usual...

Bulma finally puts some clothes on and it looks like we can finally get this thing started.

But in her haste to check out the planet, she never notices the ship’s computer, which has a flashing red warning. Aw, probably the check-engine light. She can take it to an Auto Zone on the way back.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #bulma #krillin #gohan #cui #vegeta #the orphans had names but i'm not bothering to look them up #goku #chi chi #namek saga

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sassysweetcollegegirls · 6 years

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I’ll Love you No Matter What pt3

Breakfast was Lance’s second favorite meal of the day. Second because it required him to get up and there were never any Lucky Charm’s or just straight pancakes anymore. Hunk always did his absolute best to make breakfast as close to the stuff at home as possible. Of course it was always a little off but Lance still appreciated it for all it was worth.

The door slid open and Lance takes a solid wiff of what Lance thought was waffle and eggy type.

“HUNK MY MAN. What is on the menu today?” Lance walked toward the kitchen which was literally Hunks Natural habit. Hunk stood in his usual attire his apron tied around his waist a whisk in hand a look of pure concentration on his face.

“Take one more step McClain and you will be served last.” Hunk threatened drawing the whisk up and pointing at him a yellowish goop dripping from the end.

“Woah buddy what’s with the whisk of death?” Lance wasn’t used to Hunk being so well threatening in the morning usually he was humming and swaying offering Lance the opportunity to taste his creations.

Hunk rubbed his face and set the whisk in the bowl. “I was up all morning.” His body turning soft exhausted

“Hunk your up every morning.” Lance grabbed his friends shoulders and started rubbing large circles

“I was up earlier Lance. SOMEONE on this ship was pounding on doors and running and Lions it was a mess.” Hunk waived off Lances touch and went back to his cooking,” Some of us sleep ya know.”

“Maybe we can get the Gremlin to look at the feed from the cameras she never sle—-Aaaaahhhh!” As if brought on by the pure image of her in Lances brain Pidge showed up,” CAN YOU STOP DOING THAT?” Lance shrieked putting a hand to his heart and feigning fainting.

“You realize I have no idea what your talking about right?” She yawned and rover who was snuggled into her arms blipped awkwardly. Her hair was a casual disarray and she still wore the sweats she had been put to bed in,” Also I do sleep. You all just haven’t figured out the cycles yet.”

“Thus you are a Gremlin.” Lance grumbled and she slugged him lightly letting rover go. He began to flutter busily about the room as Hunk began tidying up the kitchen, “ what am I supposed to be doing?”

“Checking the feed for who was waking Hunk up with all the yelling and running in the halls this morning. “ Lance clarified stretching he had managed to dress. Pidge was always the last of them to dress. Shiro had stopped commenting on it a long time ago and Lance had just become so accustomed to her ducking out to get dressed after breakfast it was routine now.

Hunk was busy and he looked focused so he pushed Pidge out to the dining portion of the kitchen and gathered plates on his way.

“Did you hear the yelling and running?” Lance asked?

“Me? No. I was sleeping.” Pidge said stretching her belly showing a little the skin smooth. Lance looked toward the ceiling giving her a moment of privacy. Lance had sisters back home and they had drilled into him time and time again how important the female body was. How precious it was and that you only shared it with those precious or those of the same sex.

“Give me some plates we don’t want Hunk to see us slacking. He’s in a mood.” Pidge said taking the plates from Lances chest and making a neat stack. “ I’ll do the left you do the right.”

“ I’ll bet mines prettier than yours.”

“Your dreaming again Loverboy.”

“I WILL OWN THIS PLATE SETTING COMPETITION GUNDERSON.”

“YOUR ON.”

“I swear to god if either of you break my tableware your getting fed last.” Hunk grumbled as he brought spoons and forks out to the table and rover floated out behind him with a napkin.

The room became a flurry of limbs and plates and napkins and happy sounds that meant fun. Lance was folding corners and dancing, and Pidge was trying to make the perfect angles. While hunk slid steaming plates full of food in the center rolling his eyes at the antics and slapping trying fingers out of the way.

Coran was the first to join them. He had his tablet pressed to his nose reading an article in something Lance figured was probably was Altean. He almost tripped over Rover but Lance caught him with one arm his body was heavier than he expected.

“Coran what do you eat?” Lance teased setting the older man upright.

“I eat my normal squares plus Grandpa Wembeldons additional recommended portions!! If we’re going to complain about size my dear boy aren’t you a string?” He responded quickly straighting and fixing his coat.

“I am a Normal growing boy for your information!” Lance huffed turning.

The door opened and Allura stepped in. She was radiant beautiful and glowing in ways that reminded Lance of his sisters and of his mother. His heart puttered a little thinking about Allura and his family meeting (so maybe that crush wasn’t so over yet) and Pidge snickered next to him reminding him to be human.

“Good Morning Princess!” Lance choked out as she smiled and pressed her hand to Corans shoulder.

“Coran, now is not the time to be critiquing the physique of our Paladins. Have you found anything of importance?”

“As it so happens no. I was looking for brain fuel hopping it would get the old gears cranking.” Coran offered pointing to Hunks beautiful breakfast array.

“Good Morning Lonce. Pidge I hope you slept well? “ Allura greets as everyone begins taking seats at the table trying to relax and Hunk comes out to sit.

“I for one did not sleep this morning. Was anyone else woken up by the running and screaming? Or was that just me?” Hunk heaps his plate full of egg type things and passes the plate to Coran who calmly takes a scoop and passes the plate to Allura who seem to be sharing a look.

Lance watches but doesn’t comment and instead looks to where Keith usually sits across from him,” Hey where’s Keith? He never misses breakfast.” He comments calmly. His mind goes to Keith last night how he had laughed and smiled and had been gentle and carefree and it had felt so much like home it made Lance ache long after he left and he wanted to go back to Keith. Even if it was just to sit on the floor and poke his face while he slept. (That’s fucking weird Lance friends don’t do shit like that).

“Or Shiro!” Pidge remarks looking at his designated place next to her. He seemed to be the only one capable of making her actually eat anything and not start a food fight.

“I’m right here Pidge, Lance please tell me she has at least scooped something onto the plate.” Shiro said he was standing in the door his arms crossed his eyes open a smile on his face and he looked like he was gunna head down the stairs but something was stopping him.

“Have you seen Keith?” Lance asked and he realized he couldn’t help but be hopeful. He wanted to know if he’d washed the face mask off properly or if he’d left green goo in his hair.

Shiro smiles and looked behind him and whispered something and then he looked at the group,” okay let’s do this. Everyone close their eyes.”

Everyone let out a collective groan but obeyed and Lance heard Shiro shuffle quickly into his place next to Pidge. “When I say three everyone open okay?”

“What the hell is this Shiro?” Pidge whispers angrily

“One”

“I’m confused is this someone’s birthday, whose birthday is it?” Hunks asking almost panicked

“Two”

“I’m so excited! There won’t just be two of us anymore!!!” Allura sang and there was a groan from somewhere near the door.

“Three”

Lance is slow to open because he is looking at Shiro first because this was all Shiro’s idea of course. Shiro of course has this wide smile plastered on his face and he’s holding Pidge by the shoulders. Pidge’s eyes are bigger than blues noes and Lance turns to look at the door because the room has wrapped itself in silence.

Standing in the door is probably the most beautiful girl Lance has ever seen. Her hair is jet black and laid gently down her back, she has this porcelain skin that makes him think of dolls. She’s lean but she’s fit Lance doesn’t think she would have any problem lifting against him in a contest. She looks so uncomfortable though in a short yellow dress that’s scooped showing just a bit of her clevage and a lot of legs and (are those Keith’s boots?) and violet eyes that dart around the room uncertain. She tries to hide in her bangs, Lance wants to plead with her to come out and not hide the pretty sharp angles of her face. She’s rubbing her arms like she’s cold and half crossed half not like she’s not sure where to put them her hands are tiny (are those Keith’s gloves?) and Lance wants to draw them into his and blow hot air onto them and warm them up.

“Keith it’s alright it’s just breakfast.” Shiro states as he pushes Pidge into a normal not so shocked kind of state.

“THATS KEITH?!?” Pidge shouts her hands slamming on the table and standing

“KEITH?!?” Hunk drops his fork and looks at Coran for confirmation.

Lance is oblivious he’s stuck on the cherry lips and the violet of her eyes. Would a girl like that even look at a string bean like him?

Allura is smiling,” Keith your stunning now please can you just come sit down for breakfast? And we will explain everything. Yes?”

Then she starts moving her gates a little clumsy like she’s never walked in a dress before and Lance has this urge to rush forward and carry her down the two short steps and too the table. He looks around panicked as to where she’s going to sit. The only open spot is Keith’s (Keith won’t care this one time right?) And he rushes out of his chair to go pull out hers carefully his face red and everyone looks at him funny including her.

But damned Lance if he isn’t chivalrous. Keith takes a moment to stop and look at him. Her hair is so silky up close Lance holds his breath as she slides into the chair in front of him and then he pushes her in to the table stairing at the crown of her head biting his cheek. He carefully seats himself across from her again and everyone looks at him,” What?” Lance asks.

No one says anything and Keith’s cheeks turn pinker and Hunk chokes on a bite of his breakfast at the site. He’d at least tried to return to normality. Everyone waits and Shiro clears his throat,” as you can see Keith has joined us for breakfast....” Shiro is going on about how some kind of tattoo and blah blah blah and Lance is just oblivious.

He’s watching Keith pick apart egg type things with a fork. She has one hand cupped around her cheek and the other on the fork and she’s aggressive like they’ve done a sin and they need to pay for it. Her eyes are sad like they’ve been forgotten somewhere and placed in her perfect little head just for Lance to find. Then they turn to Lance and Lance swallows.

“If a turtle doesn’t have a shell is he homeless or naked?” Lance manages his mouth is dry and his palms are sweaty but those eyes look right into his.

“Lance what the hell are you talking about?” Keith asks, and her voice is like liquid honey that Lance never knew he needed. It’s so smooth and it just drips with sarcasm and so many things Lance can’t even wrap his mind around it hurts.

He leans over to Pidge,” How does she know my name?” he asks but his eyes never leave Keith who hasn’t stopped looking at him.

“Oh. my. god. Lance No. “ Pidge smacks her palm to her face and then wraps her arm around his neck and points at Keith.

“You know that guy you mock?”

“You mean Keith?”

“Mullet, grumpy, throws knives and flies the Red Lion?”

“Don’t tell me this is his sister?”

Pidge smacks him upside the head and points at Keith again,” That’s Him.”

There is silence at the table and Lance looks at the Violet eyed angel across the table and then he peeks under the table. No one stops him. They just let him for a moment look at the legs so slender and perfect and not hairy and not encased in super tight jeans but still wearing Keith’s boots.

He returns tableside to look at Keith who is sitting with the cute little pout across her lips an eyebrow raised in question.

“What?” Lance says and Keith rolls her eyes in the most attractive way possible.

“I told you this was fucking stupid.” The honey voice claims looking to Shiro who is trying not to lose his cool.

“Lonce were you not paying attention?” Allura asked and Lance looks toward her and for some reason she doesn’t look so pretty next to Keith. She’s pretty but she makes him think of moms and soap and laundry and he’s not sure what that means yet.

“I was...”

“No he wasn’t” the honey voice of Keith again. “He was to busy staring. I TOLD YOU TO LET ME STAY IN SHIROS HOODIE BUT NO. I had to wear this stupid...” She grips at the dress angrily as if she can tear it but then she realizes that people are watching and she just sulks deeper into the chair.

“Take my sweatshirt.” Lance offers before he’s even sure what the hell hes doing. He’s got the green thing off and he’s offering it to Keith across the table.

Keith looks at it and snatches it angrily and throws it on zipping it all the way up. She pulls the hood up and then looks at Lance crossing her arms.

“Lance you do realize that is Keith right?” Pidge asks him turning lance to face her.

“Keith is a She now?”

“Yes” everyone at the table goes at once. Everyone but Keith who looks like she would rather hide in a hole than be at this discussion.

Lance takes a moment to think about the girl across from him. The salty behavior the hardcore additidude and the eyes the gloves the boots, the outbursts. It all makes sense. It doesn’t stop what comes out of his mouth though ,” About that turtle.”

“ Lance.” Shiro’s warning voice is present but Keith is chuckling and she’s covering her mouth with one of his sleeves. And it’s the most beautiful thing Lance has ever heard.

Everyone has stopped to watch Keith now who seems to be trapped in fits of laughter that don’t really make sense in the seriousness of all this. “ Freaking Lance is, asking me about Turtles after we tell him I lost my penis.”

“This is serious business Keith. IS he NAKED or HOMELESS?”

Theres a collective groan around the table and Keith just continues laughing and It’s a beautiful thing. It’s airy and soft and full of shit that makes Lance feel like he’s not even real.

“You two are officially the worst at dealing with news.” Hunk groaned pushing his now empty plate toward the center.

“I want everyone to agree that this isn’t going to move the team backwards. Until we find a solution Keith will be stuck like this. So Keith, do you prefer us to call you by female or male pronouns?” Shiro asked trying to calm everyone again and find a solution.

Keith suddenly in the spotlight for a reason other than sharing it with Lance began blushing. “ I feel like me. I know I have boobs and stuff but I feel Like Keith...So can we just do Keith? and whatever works from there?” There was a softness to the tone of her voice that everyone had to lean forward for.

“Fair enough.” Pidge claimed swiping her plate and Shiro’s despite the dirty look Shiro passed her.

“Everyone meet on the training deck in Half an hour.” Allura Sang walking backwards out the door.

“ LANCE it’s your turn to help with clean up.” Hunk said which meant he wanted to talk to Lance.

“Keith, I wanna go to your closet and see if I can help you find comfortable stuff to wear. You look like your miserable in that.” Pidge said as she went to Keith and Keith looked grateful from his place in Lance’s hood the ends of his hair poking out cutely.

“You'd do that for me?” Keith asked the honey voice soft.

“Yeah I’ll show you how to fix clothes so they fit you.” And then the two of them were gone leaving Hunk and Lance and Shiro who seemed to be looking at Lance puzzled.

“What?” Lance asked

Shiro just smiled and rubbed the back of his head before heading outside. Hunk handed Lance a pile of plates,” Dude the staring was weird.” Hunk murmured

“Do you know how pretty Keith is?” Lance hissed,” I looked at Allura and I thought about Laundry soap! Who does that?”

“Uhhh- You?”

“Right but Keith,his skin is like smooth and it looks soft, do you think it’s soft Hunk?”

“ Dude this is gunna be hard for you isn’t it?”

“Definatly.”

“I’m gunna need the first aid kit?”

“For sure.”

Hunk just sighs and Lance hands him another dish to be magically washed by the machine that washes dishes one by one. He’s got his head in the clouds thinking about violet eyes and long black hair in a bright yellow dress.

#klance #klangst #comedy #takashi shirogane #hunk garrett #pidge gunderson #keith kogane #lance mcclain #Allura #voltron coran #keiths a girl #pinning keith #pinning #shennanigans #terrible jokes

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fandom-hell-ferrylass · 5 years

Text

Beware!

A/N: time to answer the question I asked last time in A Spoonful of Sugar. not much of a build-up but maybe it’ll be entertaining.

as always, still rusty and stretching my prose wings so the style is all over the place, especially cause I write in bursts which means some bits are more fluid and some are incredibly impacted by things I’ve read just before writing. it’s a rollercoaster that I’m enjoying :D

Alice’s heart thumped in time to the muted bassline thudding from the hidden front of the stage. The dancing lights were a myriad multi-glow washing faintly over Tarrant’s face, muddling the colours of their costumes weirdly even as the Hatter’s eyes glinted with barely-contained excitement. One of his gangly arms snuck around her waist and Alice found herself twirling around as the Hatter danced to the techno beats Nivens was dishing out.

“30 seconds, guys!”

Alice waved to the stagehand to let them know she heard them before pulling her attention back to her partner.

“Did you hear him, Tarrant?”

“What’s that, Alice-My-Dear?”

“We’re on in 30 seconds.”

“Wonderful! Next set, next set!”

The woman laughed as Tarrant spun on his heel, her safely secured in his arms.

“Last set, Hatter! Last set of the night!”

The man stopped spinning, Alice sliding out of his grip to stagger slightly as she regained her footing.

“Last set?” His voice was so sad, Alice couldn’t help but smile gently and cupped his cheek.

“Of the night, dear. Tomorrow we’ll have more T.”

His face lit up again. Tarrant sandwiched her hand in both of his and pulled her against him. Alice tipped her head nearly all the way back to gaze up at the face hovering over hers. The man’s grin just below the hat brim was nigh-on Cheshire.

“Do you promise, My Alice?”

She fought the urge to bite her bottom lip against a surge of attraction.

“Ah. Ahum?”

Both singer’s heads snapped around to stare at the crew member standing a few feet away. The man clutched a clipboard and was trying to not stare at the entwined pair.

Alice swallowed the squeak in her voice. “Yes? Did we miss the cue?”

The man shook his head. “Ah. No, no, just about to go. But I was told to let you know, they’re intro’ing something new tonight. So when everything stops, they want you to stop too. The band has been informed. You’re on!”

Before either could react, Nivens’s voice filtered through the speakers.

“Welcome back your Mad Hatter and the lovely Alice!”

With a shared look of confusion, Tarrant yelped and tore off for the stage at a run, Alice’s hand firmly in his grasp.

Alice’s laughter was pulled from her throat as Tarrant spun her across the stage, barely missing Mally as he chased after Thackery. The Hare eyed the Dormouse and bounded away with a grin. Even Abs and Chessur were grooving as much as their stations allowed. The Mad T Party Band was full swing in their element as the crowds faded into the blinding coloured haze. Alice felt Tarrant’s arm loop around her waist again, felt him guide her through the lyrics and the chords as her voice reached out to join his in a harmonic, mesmerizing dance.

The heady thumping of bass and drum pulsed in her breastbone, the sizzle of squealing guitar tingled the nerve endings in her fingers. Tarrant spun her out again and she pirouetted to find herself happily sandwiched between Mally and Thack as they joined the two singers. The four cavorted, twisting themselves as the people at their feet shrieked, reaching out for them. Together they laughed and bounced away from the grasping hordes, never missing a step, drinking in the madness as oxygen for starving lungs.

The crackle of dissipating energy shifted on the air as Mally drew a few last wailing notes from his guitar and the crowd erupted. The flounced edges of her bodice heaved as Alice gulped in a few draughts, the warm air making her head swim a bit with the glare of lights. She concentrated on smile and wave, dimly aware of Tarrant talking through his own need for breath.

The man swaggered across the stage, slinging an arm over Thackery’s shoulders as the Hare stood at the stage front with Mally, the pair interacting with the giddy audience. A wide smile turned her lips as she watched the trio before glancing at the two men behind her. They met her eyes with equally happy looks, but she noticed a glance between them. Something about the look ticked something in her head.

Wasn’t there something we were supposed to wait for—

The lights went out, the entire Rabbit Hole plunged into pure darkness.

Everything in her told her to cry out. Her limbs immediately cramped as Alice forcibly locked her body still and brought her jaw together so hard she felt her teeth ache. She remembered now. The crew member. He had told them to stay still while the stage went dark.

The sudden lack of vision had made the crowd exclaim in surprise, and as the seconds ticked on, a low murmur started to grow. Alice jerked her head up as a rustle of cloth came from somewhere ahead of her. Through the nighttime gloom, she blinked and squinted, willing her sight to adjust faster. Straining, the woman could just make out three figures in the dark, and three very distinctive shapes that told her Mally, Thack, and Tarrant had also not moved.

The joy that had been coursing through her veins seconds before bled from her, evaporating like something was leeching it from her. She panicked, reaching for the last bright spark as it flickered in her chest. A cloying, clinging fear reached up and snuffed it out in a blink.

She couldn’t help it, something in her mind, a shrill insistent voice was suddenly screaming at her to get to Tarrant get to the boys something’s wrong GET TO TARRANT! Her lips parted as she took a wobbling step forward. She tried to will back the breathy sob that dropped from her mouth as she felt something cold and whispy curl up her legs, licking at her fingertips. The tall hat outlined against some vague distant light tilted sharply. The chill kissed the skin of her cheek and Alice petrified, her eyes closing so tightly she didn’t see Tarrant’s head snap around, looking for her.

The Hatter knew the Dormouse and Hare had heard the sound behind them at the same time. A soft, unmistakable noise only one person on that stage could have made. All three men stiffened as Tarrant’s head tilted sharply, listening. A charge passed between them, a piece of their minds flaring to life as their muscles kicked into a mode they’d had little use for in this world.

Another soft gasp reached their ears and they moved in startling rhythm as Tarrant spun around, blazing gold eyes probing the blackness, Thackery and Mally pressing back to back behind him to make a triangular formation. To an untrained eye, it was no different from ways they had stood on the stage many times before - they knew better. A fighting stance is hard to forget when it’s as familiar as breathing.

Tarrant made to take a step when he felt the strange coolness lick across his left hand. He tipped his head down for a moment before swinging his arm in front of him. The chill parted and billowed, curling up around his shoulders and behind him. Mally growled under his breath at the stuff over the Hatter’s shoulder.

Again Tarrant made to move towards Alice.

A weird cackling laugh from the darkness made his blood freeze.

All six of them knew the exact instant something stepped foot on the stage. A wave of fog and cold roiled along the ground, nearly tangible. It swallowed them whole. Panic and hate clawed along their spines, drawing unbidden, shuddering breaths puffing in the air around their mouths. Thackery felt his ears twitch and tremble and squeezed his eyes shut to keep himself rooted. Mally’s hackles rose, twisting his face into a violent snarl hidden by the dark. Tarrant’s fingers spasmed, he had to strangle the urge to pull the false hat pins from his hat and wield them like daggers.

Hidden behind his drums, Chessur hunkered down and willed himself into nothingness. Even as his body faded from view, he fought the urge to slither down and find their Mad leader, to fall into his everlasting role of espionage and deceit as The Cat. He eyed the man behind the keyboard. Absolem was hunched over, gripping the edges of the instrument as he swept murderous eyes over every inch of their stage haven.

When the Caterpillar’s eyes stopped moving, Chessur’s eyes followed. Without a word, without a sign, one by one, all five Underlanders turned their eyes towards the human woman frozen in the center of the stage. An eerie purple glow faded up to reveal a figure standing before Alice, hood up, a glowing purple violin dangling from their left hand. A sudden wash of UV glow revealed the scale pattern on the figure’s costume, and Tarrant had never been so glad the audience couldn’t see Alice’s terrified face crumple with the memories of a battle she couldn’t help but remember.

When the figure spun around and a purple-red spotlight appeared, a delighted gasp flared from the people below. Tarrant glared beneath his hat. Those people, those fools had no idea exactly what was standing on that stage before them. He didn’t even need to see the small wings mockingly affixed to the figure’s tiny backpack - it only served to deepen his shadowy frown.

The hood rose with sinister precision and the figure lunged toward the stage front. A delightedly startled scream went up and a wide array of fanged teeth appeared in the blacklight, a grin of immense threat. The wicked grin bobbed as the head lolled around and suddenly they were on the move.

The sound of held breath was erased as the figure’s bow met their instrument’s strings. Shivers abounded as hauntingly dark, sneering notes echoed across the hushed spaces. They drew note after chord as they slithered across the stage and halted in front of the keyboardist. Absolem refused to move or adjust his gaze from the spot the figure had appeared. The hood bobbed a moment, nodding, and took three low sliding steps right. Chessur followed them with his saucer eyes, watched them square up with his drums. He watched the hood move jerkily for a moment and a smug grin began to tilt across his mouth. His little trick never failed to impress.

The grin vanished when the hood snapped directly towards him and the terrible teeth grinned wider. The Cat felt his hair stand up and a low rumble reverberated in his chest. The figure tossed their head and bounced away. They never stopped playing.

The scaly being stalked across the stage, swaying and undulating their steps snake-like as they made for the trio at the front. Mally’s instinct to pounce was thwarted as Thackery dug his fingers into the Dormouse’s shirt while Tarrant’s hand wrapped around his wrist. The three stared down into the hood, recoiling at the grinning maw. But Tarrant found his gaze locked with a pair of red eyes tilting to bore deeper into his. The surprise of it rattled him, and belatedly he realized the distance he was looking down at the figure - the same distance he looked down at Alice. He didn’t realize his hand was lifting towards the hood until the grinning teeth frowned and the hood jerked out of his reach. He remained still, one hand hovering still, the terribleness of the moment starting to be shoved aside to make way for other just-as-bizarre thoughts. Distractedly he watched the violinist make for their last target.

Alice imagined there were ice crystals forming in her veins. There had to be, it was the only reasonable explanation for the freezing cold sensation traveling up from her toes. Her skin prickled as her hair stood on end at the sight of the bared fangs grinning at her from the hood’s dark depths. She couldn’t have run even if she tried, her eyes the only thing moving as the figure circled her, a predator sizing up its prey.

When it vanished behind her, she wanted to cry. When a puff of warm breath sent shivers across her neck, she wanted to faint. She wasn’t expecting a mouth to appear next to her ear.

“Did you miss me, Champion?”

This time when the stage went dark, Alice didn’t try to keep herself on her feet. Her knees buckled and she sagged. Two pairs of hands gently wrapped around her arms and kept her from wobbling as a third pair of arms curled around her waist to keep her upright. Neither Tarrant, Mally, or Thackery cared when light from the giant screens behind them revealed their sudden, new positions.

Excited screams made them glance over their shoulders. On the screens behind them floated an image of their Mad T Party stage but with a figure silhouetted in the foreground. With their back turned, it was easy to see the pair of wings. They could see the scales, and the waves of braided hair cascading around the figure’s face. This did nothing to hide the menacingly glowing red eye smirking over one shoulder. At the bottom floated too-cheery red-purple-black letters spelling out three chilling words.

The backstage doors shook the walls as they slammed open. Absolem spared the briefest glance at the deep gouges in the plaster as he trailed behind the rest of the band. Nobody else cared. They hadn’t felt anything for the past 13 minutes.

The band had barely finished their set and managed to not bolt off-stage as the digital image leered down at them. Absolem and Chessur had abandoned their posts to huddle with the others and try to keep the rising terror contained. Tarrant hadn’t released their blond songstress for a second while he quickly thanked the crowd and handed the Rabbit Hole reigns over to the Twins. As the group stumbled clumsily down the stage stairs, Nivens was nervously waiting for them.

He sought out Tarrant’s dark golden gaze and they shared a long look of infinite conversation. Mally and Thack stood shoulder to shoulder behind them during the exchange, the Dormouse trying to calm the Hare and vise versa, the Hare trying to keep the Dormouse’s fury in check. Chessur stepping in helped - the Cat was no stranger to riding the waves of emotion and he could taste the prickling shroud that had descended upon their little corner of the world. The look he gave Absolem could have filled a tome.

Nobody knew this was coming.

For once the band did not tarry to greet loyal fans and share smiles and laughs and fuel the ever-burning T fires. Thack barely managed a faint wave and apologetic smile as the Underlanders bypassed the meet-and-greet area to stagger towards relative safety. As the sounds of the party faded behind them, their attentions shattered and zipped in all manner of direction. The most prominent thought amongst them, though they didn’t know it, was how could they have not known It was here?!

“Have you any remote inkling what exactly you’ve done??”

Alice took a hasty step forward but stopped herself. Tarrant’s eyes were flashing from acid green to molten gold so quickly it was making her eyes hurt. She shot a pleading look at Thackery. If they didn’t do something, the Mad Hatter was going to lay the entire Rabbit Hole to waste in his righteous fury.

Their stage manager didn’t seem to understand the immediate peril he was in. The man glanced up from a clipboard and gave the irate Hatter a self-pleased grin.

“Fantastic idea, don’t you think? Only a few months to set it all up, and just in time for the Halloween season! It’s gonna be a great parallel to Hallow T.”

The Underlanders paled. Alice facepalmed.

“A gimmick? It’s all a gimmick? Letting one of the most weird and dangerous creatures of all literature lose in the human world ... for a show?!?” Tarrant’s voice was getting rougher by octaves, words tingeing heavily with his native brogue.

“I know, right? The perfect kind of scary element for a Disney park! The kids are gonna lose their minds. Which reminds me, introductions are in order. ”

Six pairs of manic eyes snapped across the room as something moved over at the makeup stations. A disgustingly familiar hood sat in front of a mirror, facing forward as if observing itself. The figure’s hands lifted and the hood was pushed back to fall limply across thin shoulders. A dark mass of braids and hair ornaments were instantly recognized from the promo image on the stage screens.

“Guys, meet Eirian Fang.”

Glinting red eyes blinked at them as the girl turned around in her chair.

Alice’s chest squeezed and she wondered how little breathing she could manage in an hour’s time before passing out.

Mally’s head canted down, casting his steely eyes in even deeper shadow as his fingers curled into claws.

Chessur’s teeth slotted together in a silent snarl, and he was glad Dinah and Nivens were keeping the party going outside.

Absolem fought to keep his expression schooled and neutral, but he couldn’t help a narrowed glare.

Thackery felt something in a dark corner of his mind twitch, and the shock of That being called to attention kept him from reacting too violently. Instead, he stepped away from Mally and to Alice’s side, keeping one eye on her and the other carefully trained on Tarrant.

The Hatter’s eyes were so molten they were nearly black with only golden flashes to speak the truth of his current state. He slowly pivoted on a heel to face the creature head-on.

“The Mad T Party’s new Jabberwock.”

Black gold met crimson. The fangs beneath the red eyes smiled.

welp. there it is. wonder if anyone would have seen that coming? I didn’t build the mystery up much, though there will definitely be a lot more in the future. I enjoy this too much, and Eirian is already a very fun OC to play with.

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