#good or bad his house is a literal museum that gathers everything

[fisherpiers]

Seems you have problems with Amity so how come you ain't a fan of her?

okay lemme take a deep breath and gather up my receipts. hope you’re ready for a whole fucking essay.

do i think her designs cute? yeah sure. she’s adorable. and marketable. easy to slap on disney social media posts during pride month.

do i like that her attraction to girls is treated as good and natural and not scary? yes. for the owl house’s message, and helping kids grow up without thinking they’re monsters, this is good.

okay now that i’ve pointed out the good, lemme tell you why i hate her.

and this got too long so here’s the shortened version. the reasons she most rubs me the wrong way. and it’s still too fucking long lol

1. first things first. she’s the hexsquad’s bully. she was horrible to willow and luz and she never really puts in the work to make up for this. well. she does for luz. not willow, however. her main victim.

AMITYS VERY FIRST APPEARANCE IS TREATING WILLOW LIKE SHIT AND DESTROYING HER CONFIDENCE. WITH NO PROVOCATION. okay? and then that episode ends with ames trying to get luz dissected.

it’s not even an “amity let bosha, her best friend that she replaced willow with, terrorize willow and thus is responsible as a bystander” situation. no, amity is shown personally going out of her way to be an asshole.

and then in that fucking library episode she says “i know what you are now, luz. you’re a bully!” like bitch?? excuse me? you were literally regular and cyber bullying luz and willow in the episode previous to it. literally she bullies them and then the very next episode calls luz a bully (for some shit her siblings were doing, not even luz)

and then she just assimilates herself back into the friend group, as if nothing happened. willow and gus tolerate it bc they’re not assholes. but the tension is there. on screen even.

like that whole hair braiding scene. wtf was that. amity braiding willows hair does not make up for years of her making willows life a living hell. willow frowns while it happens. and the whole reason amity even came to talk to willow in the first place was to talk about luz. she is only there bc she needs something. it was all about her relationship with luz, not willow.

i know i’ve said this many times before but i think willow should get to clock amity in the jaw. at least once.

and willow should’ve been fucking pissed when luz started getting romantically involved with amity. luz and willow should’ve had a fight about it.

they call back to the tension again in “thanks to them”. the scene in the museum. they feel the need to have to reassure the audience that things are fine between the kids, totally no tension at all. you know bc amity hasn’t actually apologized and they just sort of swept everything she did under the rug.

(another part of “thanks to them” when she tells hunter to go change his silly outfit. not an egregious sin but it’s still mean.)

“understanding willow” wasn’t enough. all amity does it throw out her little sob story excuse for first abandoning willow and then bullying her. probably only bc luz was there to make her feel bad about all of it. which is not a proper apology. WHICH LEADS ME TO MY NEXT POINT.

2. and here’s where it gets personal. amity’s sob story is that she has shitty parents. cool. me too. and i ain’t ever bullied anyone bc of it.

i’ve got literally the same parents. a manipulative control-freak mother and a father who just sorta lets her terrorize his children and make all the family’s decisions bc he’s too busy or scared of her to care. all the same pressure to do perfectly at school and weird fixation on my hair, even, and i’m just fine. my mother belittling me every time i breathed didn’t make me feel the need to make other kids’ lives miserable. get better coping mechanisms.

and i know the “amity doesn’t even try to fight it when her mother gets the hexsquad expelled in ‘escaping expulsion’” thing is a reason other people don’t like amity for, but no i understand this one. i would’ve been too afraid to cross my mother too. so she gets a pass on that ig

oh and mentioning that ep, bonus round. 3. that scene where she walks into her house and immediately throws her clothes on the floor for the butler to pick up pisses me off

sigh. it’s not that i think people can’t change, in fact i’d be perfectly fine with her if she actually made things right with willow. i just wish she would’ve. on-screen.

#okay now i’ve laid most of it out lol #asks #amity blight #fisher.txt #long post #tbh i say i hate her but i kinda don’t sometimes. i contain multitudes

[hollythius]

Hi, I wanna have a matchup, please!

For the purposes of the mini-fic that comes with it, my name is Cali! My pronouns are she/her I'd like a matchup with a male character.

My mbti is INTP, I'm a Leo, and I'm autistic.

My main hobby is baking/cooking, but I also love drawing and painting, and writing poetry. I love playing video games too but they're not a thing in One Piece lmao, so, aside from that I kind of like games in general. Boardgames, childhood playground games, etc. I'm extremely bad at chess and checkers, though. And card games.

My favorite places are the beach/ocean and amusement parks, or other fun and interactive places like museums and aquariums. But like I said, I especially love the beach. It's hard for me to pick a favorite food, since it changes every time I try a good food lmao, but right now it's beef wellington. Yes, it's very expensive, but also I made it myself on Christmas for my family, so there's good memories attached. Aside from that though, my real favorite foods to eat more often are either chocolate and chocolate flavored goods, or crispy and spicy chips with lime on them.

Aside from the above, I also love animals and care a lot about the environment. I'm not very outdoorsy or rough at all, but still. I love to study animals and nature, and I love animals that are traditionally scary: sharks, bats, crows, etc. They aren't my favorite but that's only because I have no favorites. Except for any animal that may be my pet; I love and cherish my dog right now, and that would still be true if he were any other animal.

I also love collecting toys. I don't have room for much more so I stopped, but I would love to collect mass amounts of plushies. Especially the squishamallow-types. I love how cute they look, I love holding and hugging them, I just love them so much. I also have a soft spot for fashion dolls, they're extremely pretty and remind me of when I was little.

Places I don't like are places where the main attraction is socialization and noise; concerts, casinos, etc. I can stand a crowd if I'm somewhere fun and can be distracted, but I hate constantly bumping into or touching strangers. This goes for parties and social gatherings as a whole, I'm definitely the type to just follow around the one person I know or play with the house pet. As for foods I don't like: dried fruit. I really like fruits that are juicy/messy, and dried fruit has a very off flavor/texture that I hate.

When it comes to making friends, I have a lot of trouble. I'm very reserved and have a resting bitch face, and I usually eat by myself so I can daydream and be alone with my thoughts. But I really love /having/ friends. When I already have a friend, I'm extremely loyal and want to do anything and everything to make them happy. I'm also a very sincere friend, I don't deal with sarcasm or teasing very well at all and I don't do it to anyone either. I take and say things very literally, and I show I care mostly by doing favors and giving gifts. Although, I'm also very touchy feely and love some good hugs and cuddles.

hi cali! like i’ve been putting on the rest of the matchups, i’m no longer doing the mini-fics due to some mental health stuff. but i hope you enjoy your match…

monkey d. luffy!

- luffy would be so happy to play games with you. he also has plenty of friends who are more standoffish, and wouldn’t mind having a s/o like that either. (though he would try his hardest to bring you out of your shell) even if it’s hard for you to find friends, luffy pretty much solves that issue right away. any of luffy’s friends are now automatically yours. he’s also happy when you want cuddles or affection, cause he’s just a little ball of sunshine that radiates love.

#holly’s matchups #luffy

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Four

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 4 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: reference to past sexual assault (very minimal); misogyny/sexism; mention of Infinity War deaths/Endgame deaths; abusive parental relationship; canon violence; heavy drinking; reference to cocaine use

Word Count: 13,900+

~

Tony’s Cabin, 2023, 8:56pm

      “Uh…”

You and Steve stared at the little girl in front of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as she held up one of Tony’s repulsors, the safety on but pointed right at the two of you. Steve instinctively pushed you behind him, the obvious fact being that a blast would most certainly kill you and not the super soldier himself. You were having difficulty holding in your laughter, watching as the girl kept poking at the metal, awaiting its true power. 

“Can I have that, Morgan?” Steve asked, his voice raising ever so slightly to try and seem nicer to the kid. 

“Talk to her with your regular voice, Steve. She’s five, not a toddler.”

“Yeah!”

Now you laughed at Morgan’s declaration of approval, still standing behind Steve with your hands braced on his back. 

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Alright, Morgan. Can I please have that back? It’s not a toy.”

“But daddy left it for me!”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, but he didn’t expect you to use it so early! Wait until you’re like… ten, then you can look through his things!”

“Y/N, ten?” Steve gave you a bewildered grin, eyes bright and laughter restrained. 

“Okay, twelve.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy laugh. He reached over and took the chance, grabbing Morgan’s wrist softly and ejecting the glove from her small hand. 

“There we go!” you cheered, stepping out from behind Steve and scooping her up in your arms. Morgan started laughing loudly, kicking her legs to try and escape your hold. “Ah, don’t kick me!”

You had offered your time to Pepper whenever she needed it. You didn’t expect that she would call so early asking for a huge favor, her husband’s funeral not even four months ago. But you didn’t hesitate and packed an overnight bag, reassuring her that nothing would explode on your watch. On your way out of the temporary safe house, Steve had caught you just in time. A quick question of your future whereabouts and he was joining you, a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest from not seeing Tony’s daughter in so long. He was one of her godparents after all, just after Happy and Rhodey, beating out the third crowned position from Bruce. 

He had been hurt by that initially, asking why he wasn’t even considered. 

‘Bruce, the first time she comes into your room and stands over your sleeping body to let you know she had a nightmare, you’d scream.’

‘I wouldn’t be angry, just scared!’

‘Okay, after Cap here, you get custody.’

‘Oh, yay. Drafted fourth.’

Steve was happy to go see her on such short notice though, racing back up to his room to gather some overnight supplies as well. But you didn’t think anything of it - it was just a godparent wanting to see his godchild. 

“Ouch, that hurt,” you laughed and placed Morgan down in her bed. “Nighty night time.”

“Daddy said he left things for everyone, not just me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, a sudden interest to know what his gift was exciting him. He had already given him the shield back... but then Thanos broke it. Maybe, another shield? No, T’Challa had already offered to send him a new one.

“Ooo, that’s interesting! I wonder if he got me that pretty bracelet I saw in that department store window that one time,” you gushed, pulling the blankets over Morgan. You fluffed out her hair, smiled at her, and told her goodnight. 

“Night night!”

Both you and Steve called out from the doorway of her bedroom, “Night night!”

Several minutes had passed before you brought up the prospect of secret gifts again, knowing Steve was just as interested as you were. 

“Want to go find them?”

Steve immediately stood up, clapping his hands together and giddy with excitement. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“Deal.”

You searched everywhere - living room, the garage, kitchen cabinets - even racing into the master bedroom, stealthy and secret, shame rising as you carefully picked up items around the room. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Steve chuckled from outside the door, “Hurry up!”

But you found nothing. There was only one more spot to look - his office. You almost didn’t want to intrude any longer, this being his most sacred space, but the mere chance of Tony giving you a gift from the afterlife made you extremely happy. So you and Steve searched, stacking and restacking random papers and pushing away gadgets and books in the bookshelf. Finally, a small opening in the third shelf alerted you of your mission success. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you cheered, reaching in and pulling boxes and clipped pieces of paper, all different colors and sizes, from the compartment. They were labeled with various names - Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Clint, Thor, Steve, Nebula, you - and Natasha. 

Steve sucked in his breath, his gasp similar to yours. “He got these before…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing Steve his labeled box. It was light blue, a white ribbon delicately wrapped around it, and with a cute little red ribbon with Steve’s name on it. It wasn’t big, but it was more than enough. 

“Open it,” you said. 

Steve shook his head, “Let’s open ours together.”

You agreed to his terms, taking your folder into your hands. It was one of those same art folders you had when you bought some new planners or notebooks. It was black, custom-made it seemed, as it had your name on the front in gold, cursive writing. 

On the count of three, you both opened your presents. 

Steve pulled out two sets of dog tags from the box, the sound of them clinking together reminding him of the times he would hug his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, cheers of victory mixed in with the smell of sweat and dry blood. He read the names on the metal. 

‘Steven G. Rogers

987654320 T42 O

Brooklyn, NY. P.’

‘James B. Barnes. 

32557038 T41 42 O

R. Barnes

Shelbyville, IN. P.’

He had not known they recovered his dog tags, faintly remembering clutching them tightly as he flew the plane into the ice. But SHIELD must have kept them for the museum, and Tony had recovered them. Bucky’s, however, were lost as soon as Bucky fell from that train. They were more rusted than Steve’s, almost as if HYDRA kept them underwater or stored for the majority of Bucky’s sentence. But no matter how Tony had gotten them, he was eternally grateful. 

“Wow,” Steve said, clearing his throat. But you were too caught up in your reading. 

      ‘Target whereabouts discovered mid-May of 2017. Only T. Stark and N. Romanoff approved for mission.

      Transport at 20:00 hours. Target(s) confirmed and exterminated at exactly 0802 Pacific Standard Time.’

You choked on the sob that suddenly broke through, hand instantly reaching up to cup your mouth. Steve put his tags back into the box, shushing you to get you to calm down. “What is it? What’d he get you?”

Four pictures accompanied the short report, each face crossed out with red paint. A tiny laugh escaped and tears of joy started to flow. To say Steve was confused was an understatement. 

“He… he got me justice.”

Steve took the file from you, reading over every word to somehow understand what you meant by justice. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he looked up at you for more explanation.

You brushed your hair back and rubbed at your cheeks, the smile on your face now straining. Whether it was a sudden change of mind or the closure of your trauma was just that satisfying, you told Steve exactly what Tony and Natasha had done for you. 

“After I joined you guys in New York, Fury sent me on a mission to infiltrate and bring back information about this dude my father was trying to literally destroy. But I had to play both sides  - the good and the bad.”

Steve set the file down, his full attention on you.

“I got the information but for some reason, it wasn’t enough for my father. I had forgotten to get the most vital piece, something he thought I would automatically know,” you scoffed, your smile faltering at the next part of the story. 

“I cost him ten million. And to teach me a lesson, he let these men do whatever they wanted to me. Anything.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he understood what you meant. And it was no longer a mystery why you had been planning to kill him ‘again’ after everyone came back from the snap.

“I returned to the compound in such bad shape. I only told Natasha. She cleaned me up, she took me to med-bay in the middle of the night, she brought me breakfast in bed,” you chuckled at the memory, hand reaching out to hold Steve’s. 

“And Tony’s gift was murdering the men that hurt me.”

Steve let a few tears slip himself, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Y/N, if I would have known-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know, though. I thought only Natasha knew. She promised me she would take care of it. I just didn’t think she would actually find them.”

“I think we know that Natasha could find literally anything and anyone,” Steve said. 

You agreed with his statement, a smile returning to your face. 

You jumped from your sitting position and went back to retrieve Natasha’s gift. “Hey, should we?”

Steve eyed the small, black box in your hand. He sighed as he walked over to you, eyes returning to the box. 

“It was meant for her.”

You frowned, “Yeah, and I’ll ask Pepper if we can give these to everyone else.”

You paused and shook the box near your ear. It felt heavy in your hand, and the contents gave a little jingle. 

“But this one was for Nat. I think she’d want us to at least see it.”

Steve chuckled and just nodded, awaiting the reveal. You pulled the ribbon and opened the box, surprised that Tony had given her a piece of jewelry. “Oh.”

Steve took the bracelet from the box, oblivious that the movement would unlock the charms from their heavy chests. In a matter of seconds, charms of similar size but different designs dropped to encircle the silver band. You inspected them in Steve’s hand - a red/white/and blue shield, Mjollnir, a pair of wings, two arc reactors, a singular arrow, a silver arm, a spider, an emerald heart, the letters ‘W’ and ‘V’ intertwined, a black cat, an ant - and your symbol, an intricately carved silver charm no bigger than your thumbnail, of your face. Tony knew no specific object or symbol was tied with your Avengers status, no one had ever given you one, but this was perfect. 

“Wow,” Steve whispered, examining each charm closely with a lazy smile on his face. 

“We were her family. This was an ode to that.”

“What do we do with it?” Steve asked.

You just shrugged, “Frame it? It would feel wrong just taking it for myself.”

Steve agreed. Later that night when Pepper returned home, you showed her what Morgan led you to. She let you keep your gifts and take the others, absolutely loving the idea of framing Natasha’s bracelet in the new compound being built. 

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The bright light from the open windows hadn’t hit you as suddenly as the random throw pillow that connected to your face, startling you with a quick gasp and causing you to choke on your spit. You snapped up, belly down and hair wild, eyes still half-lidded as you searched for the aggravator. And he stood there with a stupid grin on his face, already dressed in his stupid old man clothes, and stupid blond hair perfectly pushed back. 

“What the fuck was that for?” you tried to yell, voice cracking at the end and just the slightest hint of drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. 

“I ordered room service. Plus, we have to leave in an hour.”

You grabbed as many pillows as your one free hand could hold, the other still tucked into the pillowcase below your head. You flung them wildly, none actually hitting the super soldier directly. His chuckle pulled a deep groan from you, and no longer wanting to look like a fool, you stumbled out of bed and pushed passed him roughly. 

“You could have woken me up the same time you got up.”

“But you looked so peaceful.”

His sarcasm was not helping your souring mood. Steve headed over to the monitors to turn them on, already setting up the morning video chat with Bucky and Sam. “Do you always sleep like a mounted spider?”

You flicked him off, “Leave me alone so I can take my morning piss in peace!”

You slammed the door and made your way to the toilet. Now, you were no morning person. But it was simple enough for you to crawl out of bed with only minimal protest when your awakening was a peaceful one. Having a pillow thrown at your head while mid-dream was practically excruciating and no one, not even the grandest morning person in the world, could possibly awake happy from that. And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember what you were dreaming of. Just another thing to blame Steve for. 

After you had done your morning routine and slipped into a really comfy outfit, the breakfast finally arrived. You muttered a quiet thanks to Steve for ordering your favorites and damn him for knowing you preferred waffles over pancakes and a variety of creamers to choose from, and quickly filled Bucky and Sam in on what the plan for the day was. 

You had been on missions with Steve before, but no matter how many times you regrouped in the mornings, you had never actually seen him wake up. After your rude awakening, you wondered at what point during sunrise he opened his eyes - ‘cause you’ll be standing over him with a pillow of your own. 

“Torres has the air footage scheduled for around five today, then he’ll link you to the camera for the remainder of the mission,” Sam clarified. 

“Is it possible to link earlier?” Steve asked. 

“Not unless you can get the Wi-Fi password of the estate.”

You chuckled, still funneling mouthfuls of waffle into your mouth. “So, we can hack the Pentagon whenever we feel like it, but we can’t hack into my father’s estate without the Wi-Fi password?”

Sam cleared his throat, “You are so lucky this is a secure line.”

“Wait until she finishes her breakfast and her head will be screwed back on straight,” Steve joked, taking a long sip from his tea. 

Almost immediately, your phone dinged with a new message. You angled your phone away from Steve but your smirk was enough to alert him of a side conversation happening under his nose. 

Bucky: Ouch, I wouldn’t mind if you hit him upside the head.

Y/N: he threw a pillow at me to wake me up :(

Bucky: hit him

Y/N: bet

“Stop talking about me over the phone.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve grumbled, the rough sound catching Sam’s attention as well. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you - Steve desperately trying to catch a quick glance at your messages, and you leaning away from him with thumbs moving at a rapid pace. 

“Y/N, how you feeling?”

You put your phone down and pretended to not notice how Steve was trying to get a glimpse of your screen. 

“A little queasy, in all honesty.”

A myriad of emotions were present and coiling in your body, each trying to sprout and bloom and gain their five seconds of fame. And for the past several years, it was easy to downplay their true power. Because the power they held wasn’t one of distressing strength, but rather one that tip-toed to the front of your anxiety driven worries. It planted itself there, up front, but ever so silent. For it to finally meet its match, to possibly be freed of such a coil - well, you were more worried about not succeeding in its erasure than its final blooming. 

“We’ve come up with a system to make sure we both don’t go overboard or to tell the other that we’re alright,” Steve said, eyes on the monitor but hands loading bullets into your trusty handguns. 

“Alright, that’s good,” Bucky spoke, finally. He typed away on his keyboard, “Give us a word we all use in case we need back-up immediately.”

“Mm, you should ask Steve. He loves his safe words.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Something Avengers related? Or something no one would ever say?”

“Pick anything you want, just don’t let it be awkward to repeat out loud,” Sam joked. 

Steve pondered for a few seconds before he settled on his chosen word, a hint of a smile forming. “Widow.”

You nodded, “That’s sweet. She’d like us using her alias for a dirty little safe word.”

You huffed suddenly, shoulder colliding with the carpet, the realization that Steve pushed you from your chair causing you to stare at him with your mouth hanging open. “Hey!”

“Steve, every single day I accept your fate from her murderous hands,” Bucky grumbled, Sam’s loud laugh causing the speaker to give a quick halt of static. 

“She’s okay- hey!”

You flew across your chair and onto him, lunging your body as your main weapon in taking him down. You both tumbled to the floor, the sofa chair you collided with scraping along and pushing the coffee table with it. A lamp shattered on the floor right when you wrapped your arm around Steve’s neck and hooked your legs from underneath him and around his waist, his back to your front, both his arms coming up to tug yours out of reflex. 

“Yield, you little shit,” you grunted, the grip of your arm remaining loose on purpose but your legs tight, heels now digging into his slim waist. 

Steve groaned, both from your pointy heels and the sudden impact his body made with the ground. “I’m letting you win.”

“You seriously got a mouth on you.”

You let him go anyway, choosing to save your strength for the mission and not waste it on a petty little fight. Besides, you could always smother him with a pillow in his sleep. 

“You two done?”

Both you and Steve stumbled getting up, faces back in your teammate’s view as you smoothed down your clothing and wiped at your foreheads.

“Now that that’s over,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “The only task for today is to get a feel of the place, establish a legit backstory providing you some leverage, and to swipe those ID’s.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, standing again to begin hooking your weapons in discreet locations in your clothing. 

“And we’re not responsible for that broken lamp so it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

     California really wasn’t like any other state. There was a vast difference from Northern and Southern, the difference being the amount of green fields visible. In Southern California, the mountains and desert areas took up most of the landscape, with an industrial complex here, a growing city there, and then nothing for a good ten miles. Since most of the landscape was below sea level, the atmosphere was almost always dry, modest dust storms forming only to quickly pass a freeway and disintegrate once it found the other side. It was more urban, more lively with people. But Northern California, even if it experienced the same weather patterns as the south, was mostly humid during the winter season. The mountains here were covered in lively agriculture, livestock roamed freely in the gated areas near the freeways, and the overall environment provided a rural look. 

 And the differences just stood out to you, your excitement for the livestock starting to annoy Steve as you kept pointing out every cow you drove past. He threatened to stop the car and dare you to tip one. 

“So, how did we meet?”

Steve chuckled, “We’re coworkers, Y/N. Thought that question was obvious.”

You whined, “Steve, we have to put some drama into it! How about we say we met during one of Tony’s parties after Fury assigned you to this?” 

“And what? I asked you to dance?”

You leaned over your seat and poked his arm, teasing him. “Would you have asked me to dance?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, sure.” 

He glanced at you and then back to the road. “Can’t we just be honest? I like the way we met.”

 You pouted, “The way we met is a matter of national security.”

   “You brought that thing back to an unguarded planet?” Loki seethed, his voice still a whisper as he followed Thor through the hallways of Avengers Tower. A tower he had been prisoner of for a few weeks now, but would soon be released from once Thor decided to return home. Besides, it had been more than a year since his unfortunate attack and after thousands of apologies, brainwashing excuses (which were true!), and quite a few long labor hours equivalent to Midgardian community service, his leash was extended somewhat. 

“How am I the more level-headed one right now?”

Thor grumbled in response, now on his hands and knees as he searched for the tiny animal that had already eaten its way through the plush of the interior walls. “It couldn’t have gotten far. And how was I supposed to know the oxygen levels here would cause it to go crazy?”

“You couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know why it’s here in the first place!”

“Keep screaming, Loki. I bet that would make it come to us quicker!”

Loki was about to come up with another quick quip, but was interrupted by a quiet mumble down the hall. 

“Oh?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared at the two brothers - one sweeping the floor on all fours and the other ducked down to scream into his brother’s ear. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed, Agent. But I may have misplaced my dog.”

“Dog?” Loki tilted his head, hands now cupping the side of his head in disbelief. 

Your eyebrows shot up from his reaction, “Not dog?”

“It’s… an animal from Asgard.”

“Okay, what does it look like?” you asked, now more interested than ever. 

Thor cleared his throat and rose to his feet slowly, “Like a dragon.”

You stepped back, almost tripping over your left foot. An involuntary laugh escaped from your lips and you brought a hand up to try and stifle it. “You brought a dragon into the tower?”

“He brought a dragon back to Midgard,” Loki clarified as he walked over to the wall and pressed his ear against it. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s much worse,” you agreed. “Fury’s gonna shove his foot so far up your ass-”

“Yes, yes. I know what awaits me. Now, help us find it!” Thor begged. 

This wasn’t how you expected to spend your first day as an Avenger. After all the training and promoting, the paperwork and oaths, you thought you would have a pretty chill afternoon. Arrive at the conference room, get the name badge and a rundown of your new field suit, and meet the rest of the team. Freshly nineteen and energetic as ever, you accepted this as a test. Find the dragon, make a good impression. 

It only took a few more minutes before you three stumbled on an otherwise empty hallway, staring down the colorful creature as it licked one of its paws. 

Your eyes widened, “It looks like an alebrije.”

“You have these creatures on your planet?” Loki asked, surprise written over his face. 

“Nope, alebrije’s aren’t real. They’re fantasy.”

“Nevermind that, help me catch it!”

Loki began shushing his brother, hands swatting his massive shoulders in the process. You leaned down to the floor and tapped it with your fingernails, hoping the nice gesture would cause the creature to meet you halfway. 

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. “Can you come here please?”

The creature raised its head, colorful eyes on full display. Similar to rings of fire, but face like a fox, and fur as soft as silk. It titled its head, interested for only a second, before it kicked back and rushed toward the three of you at full speed. 

“Oh, shit-!”

As he was the closest, Loki pushed Thor to the wall and lifted you from the ground. But before he could throw you out of the way too, the creature leaped. Loki shielded you with his body, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up as the creature kicked his back and sent the two of you flying through wall after wall. Loki was taking the force of it all, his chest angled in a way to protect your head. It was about ten walls you two flew through before you landed in what seemed like conference room B… or C… or A. Loki rolled you over and groaned in pain. You landed on your back, bright lights blinding you as you tried to adjust. Then a figure came into view as your blurry vision cleared. 

You blinked rapidly and stared up at your new Captain. You smiled, a bit delirious, and raised your hand up for a handshake. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, new recruit!”

Steve just stared, eyebrows scrunched, an expression resembling a scowl and bewilderment painted on his face. He took your hand in his and shook it. 

“Forgive us, Captain,” Loki spoke, coughing as he turned over. “But you might want to get that shield of yours.”

    “When did we become a couple?” you continued once you agreed on the ‘party meet-and-greet’ as your previous answer. 

Now, this was a question Steve was wondering about since before you mentioned the necessity of such answers. Although he didn’t fantasize about being your significant other, he did wonder what possible event could jumpstart it. If anything, and he would take this to the grave, he assumed a line would be crossed during a particularly tempting mission. Bucky had admitted to him that on one mission, and Steve promised to take this to the grave as well, Bucky had to kiss Wanda to keep their cover. The feelings subsided soon after the mission was over, but Bucky confessed to real feelings developing. So if Steve had to bet, a particularly tempting mission. 

“When we were searching for Bucky?”

You nodded, “That works. We can say the fall of SHIELD basically led to us to realize how weak the system was and how we could easily manipulate it.”

The road veered off to the side, now dirt and unevenly layered. You checked the directions Torres gave you just to make sure. 

“And when is my birthday?”

You didn’t expect Steve to answer so quickly, and to get it right. Perhaps he looked over your file and remembered, because you were certain only your little friend group knew it. It was Bucky, it had to be him, the little shit, he told- 

“Surprised?”

“A little. How do you know it?”

“Nat. Who do you think sends you those chocolates every year?”

You were overjoyed, really. “Wha-? Natasha said she did it.”

Steve smirked, “She covered for me.”

“Why?”

“Because for five years after the snap, you and Nat did nothing for yourselves and did everything for everyone else.” He had been witness to the two of you pulling all-nighters, washing the sheets of your fallen teammates as if they were going to return that weekend, celebrating their birthdays in secret with a small candle and a prayer. Moving from the compound and into his own apartment was hard enough, but seeing his remaining teammates wallow in cursed self-determination was worse. So, he asked Nat about your birthday to send you chocolates and a lovely handwritten note, careful to write in a font different from his natural one, and he would fold tiny paper airplanes and leave them around the compound where only Nat could find them, providing her a sense of playfulness in her busy day. Little joys to make up for such an impact.  

“If it makes you feel better, I sent gifts to Nat and Bruce, too.”

But because Bruce had no forwarding address at the time, Steve settled for quick text messages here and there. 

“And here I was thinking I was special.”

Steve laughed at your statement. He reached into the middle compartment to grab the mics you would be wearing. “By the way, make sure to hide this behind your neck. My mic will blend in as a button.”

You inspected the flat, button-like mic, awed by how intricate their design was. “They connected to Bucky’s?”

Steve clipped his onto his shoulder, the camouflage effect throwing you off. Yup, you loved science. “Yeah, they record everything and immediately send it back already transcribed.”

You unfolded the sun visor and watched how the mic picked up the color of your skin and blended naturally. “Remind me to send T’Challa and Shuri a gift basket.”

“And more.”

The estate was exactly how you remembered it. Modern and simple all at once, a brown exterior to easily blend into the surrounding forest, and massive front gate that only opened with a specific code. You leaned out the window and typed it in. There was no speaker this time, probably evidence of newly installed cameras. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve muttered, pulling into the long driveway and following the brick road. 

It truly was. Even from where you were, you could see into the mansion as the walls were all practically made from glass. The walls in the back were normal, however, as that’s where most of the business was conducted. There were no swing doors, only large and heavy double doors made from cooled lava rock. And even though your father was a very organized man, the house was littered in trinkets of all origins: professionally stuffed exotic animals, roman and oriental statues, porcelain eggs, multiple pianos, and first editions of some of the most popular books in the world. There wasn’t any set theme for this house, but it was screaming ‘money’. 

Steve parked the car away from the others, careful to leave enough room around it to ensure an easy escape if needed.

“Remember what I said - play the part. Leave the smart mouth to me, they know me. It’s what they’ve come to expect.”

Steve clicked his seatbelt and sighed heavily, “I apologize in advance.”

You gave him a small smile, “Nothing to apologize for, Steve. Like I said, this is a mission. Don’t stress about it.”

He shook his head, “Still.”

The sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle down your arms. You cleared your throat, “I feel dirty saying this, but know your place. You may be a Captain but you’re not manning this boat.”

For some reason Steve felt that he truly needed to apologize in advance. For the past several years, it wasn’t entirely real to him. He had not been directly involved. But now that he was here, parked and staring at you - the one person who had a first hand account of the horrors inside - he needed to make sure you understood he would never actually hurt you, or you him. “I trust you.”

You removed your seatbelt and opened the door, “I trust you, too.”

It was windy today, the ruffles from the trees almost disguising the labor coming from the back. You assumed they were still building the reception area. Steve jogged over to your side and hooked your arm in his, his body tenser than yours. Someone opened the heavy doors, immediately swallowing the oxygen for miles with merely their presence. You couldn’t help yourself from a small grimace, lips spreading into a straight line as you forced any other expression besides hatred. 

Seda, standing at barely six foot and a smug look plastered on his aging face that worried even Steve. This was the man that had shot you when he was on the run - the man that would most likely do it again. 

Seda quickly stepped down the stairs, “Y/N, so lovely to see you again!”

You let go of Steve to walk ahead, arms extended to match the idea of a grand entrance. “Really? Because the last time we saw each other, you shot me in the gut.”

Steve swore he saw Seda’s upper lip twitch. “You hold too many grudges. I was just following your father’s orders.”

You rolled your eyes and finally came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. “Obviously.”

“And I’ve finally got the chance to meet Captain America! You’re much larger in person.”

No matter the acting skills one must obtain for this line of work, it was still obvious Seda was speaking through clenched teeth. He scanned Steve up and down, somewhat intimidated.

It was such a sudden shift, one you obviously knew was coming, but the deepness of Steve’s voice still caused unnatural goosebumps to rise. “I get that a lot. Helps in this business, though.”

Seda let out a low chuckle, “I would think so.” He turned and instructed the two men who had followed him out to reopen the heavy doors.  “This way.”

Steve tried not to gawk at the amount of decorations and old-timey artifacts he swore should belong in a museum. So much furniture, so much history that shouldn’t mix but somehow worked. And was that… was that a stuffed polar bear?

“So, how you doing, Seda? Besides the usual,” you asked, hooking your arm back with Steve’s. 

Seda walked with his head held high, only tilting his head downward when giving a silent greeting to those who walked by. You tried to memorize faces or see if there was anyone you recognized. But your father barely kept the same team for more than a few years. They either left voluntarily and luckily, or were simply never heard from again. 

“Excited for the wedding. Jackeline has been running around nonstop on her finishing touches,” Seda responded. 

You huffed out a laugh, “I bet she has. She used to have a scrapbook that outlined six different wedding themes.”

“And I haven’t seen the end of it.”

Only a few more twists and turns and you were finally near the familiar hallway that housed your father’s darkest work. The interior design was purposeful, no windows and no cameras. Steve unhooked your arms, opting for a more formal presentation between the two of you. Seda was difficult to please, but your father was near impossible. Better to not have his hands all over his daughter during their first meeting.  

“Hey, what’s the wi-fi password? I’m expecting a few important emails today,” you asked before Seda opened your father’s office door. Steve had to restrain himself from blessing the ground you walked on. Bless you for remembering. 

“‘Guadalajara’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sending the password to Torres as quickly as you could. 

It wasn’t the grand entrance you expected, truly, but you didn’t expect to see your father simply chilling behind his desk signing a few papers. He usually paced, was in a random meeting, or on the phone. Here, he was just… strangely normal. 

He looked up, eyes locking with yours for the first time in seven years. “Now, I haven’t seen you since your little weekend trip to Jalisco!”

Yeah, since you had me shot. 

Stepping into the office, the smell of cigars was heavy. Musty and daring, enveloping you like the times it did before. But now you had Steve - sweet Steve whose warmth you could feel behind you. 

You shrugged, “I’m not traveling much outside the country these days. Too much shit going on.”

Your father stood up and let out a dry laugh, “No lie about that. Seda was telling me how loose the borders were when half the world croaked.”

“Emigration was common, yup.”

He smiled at you, walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. You did your best not to tense your muscles. “I wish I could have been there. You guys made millions those five years.”

You swore you heard Seda scoff near the corner of the room. 

“It’s about time we met! Ernesto Vega,” your father introduced himself, holding out his hand for Steve to take. 

It was instant, the change, and you found yourself pushed softly to the side as Steve stepped forward. “Steve Rogers, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your father was practically beaming, “Y/N isn’t giving you a hard time with all the business, aye?”

Steve chuckled, “None at all. She steps back when asked.”

Okay, maybe he was a better actor than you took him for. 

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” your father hummed, glancing back at you with a disapproving look. 

Steve shrugged, “More like ‘ordered.’”

It was scary how easily Steve was making your father laugh. “So, she listens to you? I wonder what that’s like.”

You interrupted, scoffing quietly. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked.”

And without glancing at you this time, your father quipped. “Everything but learn how not to complain.” 

You rolled your eyes and met Seda’s stare. He always enjoyed the torment your father caused you. When he ordered you do something sketchy and you objected, Seda always had a front row seat to the slaps and harsh language spit in your face. He had a way of bringing up the abuse in almost every conversation he held with you - like it gave him some form of sick satisfaction.

“Regardless of my daughter’s inability to listen, I was still surprised when she named you as her partner.”

“The whole hero game was getting boring. I needed excitement.”

Your father agreed, “Don’t we all?” 

Before he continued, he squinted his eyes at Steve and scanned him once more. Almost like he was double checking his initial choice. 

“And you’re fine with breaking the laws of the country you’re the mascot for?”

“America has changed over the last hundred years. Trust me, I should know.”

Steve was answering exactly how you two practiced. You couldn’t help the small tinge of pride that it ignited. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re older than me. I mean, look at you.”

“The positives and negatives of being America’s science experiment, sir.”

“But here you are now. Working for me.” Your father stepped back to sit behind his desk again. “I’m very happy.”

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replied as he shuffled closer to you, trying to not seem so suspicious. Last time Steve wanted to crawl out of his own skin was when he was barely being introduced to the new world. Times Square really was a concrete jungle, his and Bucky’s old apartment building had been demolished in the fifties, and inflation… don’t get him started on inflation.  

“I’d like you to meet my two friends.” Your eyes widened. No, you weren’t supposed to meet them today. You hadn’t planned for this. 

“Friends and competition alike.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, “Shouldn’t you warm them up before you invite them in? They’re gonna take one look at Steve and freak.”

Your father motioned for Seda to open the door. “Then prepare your speech quickly.”

Before you or Steve could come up with a game plan, your father called out to the new arrivals. “Amigos! Me gustaría presentarles al hombre detrás de toda mi operación.”

The men summoned were completely different from the last time you saw them. Given you saw Ramirez long before the snap and White even before then, change was destined. Ramirez was skinnier, no more protruding stomach, wrinkles almost nonexistent and eyes lively. He hadn’t disappeared with half the world, but one of his daughters did - so getting her back definitely helped his overall health. White, on the other hand, aged overnight. His hair was now gray, eyelids sullen but eyes wide, and his nose was tilted awkwardly, like a surgery to counteract the powder he sniffed. You couldn’t remember if he was dusted or not.

“Tienes que agradecer a mi hija por esto.”

He did not just give you credit for this. 

“No fucking way?” Ramirez spoke, almost like he was out of breath. 

Curse your father for not preparing these two. You quickly reminded yourself where your gun was hidden in case things got out of hand. 

White stepped forward, circling you and Steve as if you were displayed in a museum. “Do we each get our own Avenger?”

“Maybe in the future. But this one’s mine.”

“I’m an Avenger, too. But okay,” you mumbled, offended by his singular statement. Steve’s lip twitched slightly but the look he threw at you let you know he wanted to smile. 

“¿Cómo lo hiciste?”

“Ya sabes cómo es... La gente simplemente sigue mi ejemplo.”

You decided to speak, anything to get White to stop inspecting you like some ancient artifact. “Steve green lights the routes and passages. He’s been a main player all along.”

White squinted at you, “And how long has this been going on?”

“For almost ten years,” you answered. 

White shook his head in surprise, eyes wider than you thought possible. His accent was more slurred than you remembered. “And you’re telling us now because-?”

Your father cut in, “The world is still in ruins. If we combine our forces like we discussed before that unfortunate disappearing act, we’ll be unstoppable.”

This seemed to catch Ramirez off guard, as if he truly didn’t remember the conversation your father brought up. You shoveled his reaction deep into your memory. Maribel would have to look into it.

Still, Ramirez played along. “And you’ll be loyal to us, too? Not just Ernesto?”

Steve nodded, his posture straightening. “I would.”

Now, the two new arrivals looked at you. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me. I do what he says,” you admitted, nodding your head toward Steve.

They seemed to accept that answer. 

“And he’s here to help us move the shipment this Saturday?” White asked.

“That’s the plan,” your father confirmed.

It was time for Ramirez to circle you both. But he did so more casually and without the intent of kicking you in the shins, it seemed. He went to sit on the couch nearest the door, away from the crowd. You could sense Steve tensing up, so you turned your body slightly to the side so you could see Ramirez through your peripheral.

“How do we know we can trust him? What those stars and stripes have to do with us?”

“You hear that Captain?” your father asked, leaning back in his chair with that twisted smile that always made your stomach drop. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

“Are you seriously going to haze him?” you spoke, a hint of a teasing tone on your words. It was time to liven up the conversation, for both your sake, or else your father was sure to go overboard. His hand… where’s Steve’s hand?

“Does she speak for you?”

Steve stepped forward, “No, she doesn’t.”

“Prove it.”

You should really punch your chest to get your heart beating again. Was he going to make Steve try the product? Record something as blackmail? Kill someone?

“Wha-” you began, but were immediately silenced as an arm wrapped around your neck and held you in place. The coldness of the gun’s muzzle tickled just below your chin, still and steady, but nonetheless terrifying. Your father had held you in this position before - hell, most of his men did when asked. But it wasn’t any of your father’s men threatening you under orders - it was Steve.  

“Obviously, I’m not going to kill her. You need her for this whole operation to work. But a little roughing up never did any bad.”

He removed his other arm but kept the muzzle under your chin, grabbing both your arms skillfully and pinning them behind your back. 

You had never seen your father so pleased. “Why are you dating my daughter?”

Steve chuckled and clicked the safety. No, no. 

You scrambled to open your right palm and squeeze what you could reach. Steve seemed to understand right away, and he loosened his grip and placed his other shaking hand into yours. You squeezed tightly. 

“Now, that’s like asking a man why he breathes air.”

No matter the position he currently had you in, you still praised his acting skills. 

“Perhaps. But I know my daughter. Why you?”

Steve kept a firm grip. “Luck?”

“It seems so. Let her go.”

He released you immediately, clicking the safety back on. Seda was in front of him before Steve could place it back on his person, grabbing the gun and emptying it. Seven rounds tumbled and scattered to the floor. This seemed to please both men, as Steve wasn’t presenting himself with an empty threat. He really could have killed you. 

“I’m assuming Y/N has told you stories about me. About my men.”

The floor beneath you was uneven, it seemed, but once your mind stopped playing tricks on you, you settled. You shot a quick glance to Ramirez, his eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. He seemed distant.

“Only the ones worth repeating, sir.”

“Oh? And which are those?”

“Orders and the like.”

“So, you don’t know much? Nothing interesting? Nothing that could make me seem like the bad guy?”

The room grew hot, whether it was the natural air or the bubbling anger boiling in your stomach.

“Like I said, sir. I ask her what I want to know and she tells me. Other than that, it’s your call.”

The room fell silent as they debated their other questions. 

“How much do the other Avengers know?”

You were about to respond when Steve spoke instead. “Oblivious. I’m still the stars and stripes for them.”

White scoffed, “Those symbols don’t mean shit in this new world. Ridiculous of them to still assume you’re the same man.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, “Exactly right, sir.”

This seemed to be enough for your father. He stood from his chair, walking over to shake Steve’s hand again. So righteous and personal, almost like he hadn’t just ordered the assassination of an old friend a few days ago. “I like you, Captain. You’ve boosted my business, you’ve handled my daughter, you’ve made me a lot of money.” 

He looked away from Steve to look at you now, laying eyes upon a person he hadn’t bothered to reunite with in person. You had fought so hard not to be in the same room ever again, but now you were. A small little office, holding whatever air you were forced to share, on a mission that could change everything. You hated him, absolutely detested the ground he stood on, blamed him for the fallout, the change, the hurt. 

“Seda, you trust him?”

Seda opened the office door and started ushering the other two men out. “I’m getting there.”

Your father laughed, “Always so cynical.” 

Ramirez stood from his seat behind you, already gunning to make a good impression on your Captain. He shook Steve’s hand, “Until next time.”

“Sir,” Steve returned the handshake. Ramirez only adjusted slightly, and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, momentarily stunned from any attention, but shook it in the way you were taught. Firm, short, and ready for business. You grinned at him and he returned the same emotion. 

“Two Avengers. Wow,” he mumbled, and tilted his head in a farewell. You watched him go, a silly smile on your face. 

You went to take your leave, cautious of being left alone with your father. But as fate had it, he stopped you from leaving so simply. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” 

You turned on your heel, lips plastered in a straight line. You raised your eyebrows at him, already annoyed from the request he most certainly had, no doubt. “Meet me in a few minutes. Alone.”

You forced yourself to nod, turning quickly and leaving the room. You shuffled down the hallway, Steve hot on your trail and reaching for your hand. 

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He tugged you back to him, but you pushed him into the corner room you were originally heading for. You shut the door softly, and allowed Steve to grip your hands in his. 

“Well, you gotta. Link our mics. You’ll hear everything.”

“Safe word?”

You chuckled lowly but retracted the teasing attitude when you saw genuine worry written on Steve’s face. “Widow, Steve.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do-”

You shushed him, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I fuck with you all the time but I would never take it that far.”

Where was this coming from? Steve looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. “I’m good. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see?” you placed his hand on your chest, making sure he could feel your heartbeat. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

Steve removed his hand and placed it over his own chest, rubbing slightly. “I’ll be right outside when he talks to you.”

“I know you’ll be. Now, stand guard, whistle low to alert me.”

“This the room? You know the code?”

It was a simple office as well, but resembled more of a library than a workspace. It was dimly lit, cluttered, smelled of the wooden cabinets and the dust collecting on the books, and lacked any windows as well. You nodded to confirm Steve’s question, heading over to the farthest bookshelf and pushed it away from the wall. The loose dust swooped from the wood surface and into the air instantly, and you had to pause to sneeze down your shirt. 

You wiped your nose, “I’m third in command. My father may have some things hidden but I have to know the codes to shit like this.”

Steve leaned his ear on the door gently, “You’re clear.”

You gave him a thumbs up and fiddled with the outside of the safe. It was built into the wall, black in color and definitely made way before you were born. It was quite rusted, the gold numbers on the lock almost faded. 

“Let’s hope he didn’t change it.” You turned the dial - seven, thirty-three, eighteen - and it clicked on the first try. “Bingo.”

“Did you have a backup plan if that didn’t work?”

You snorted quietly, “Smash?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pressed his ear back on the door. 

Everything inside had been recently rearranged. You figured your father used some of these ID’s when entering the country for the wedding and left them stacked on one another for the quick heist on Saturday.  “We’re in luck! Both my father’s and Seda’s ID’s are here, along with-”

You cooed, taking out your phone and opening the camera app. You snapped multiple pictures, with and without flash. “Stacks and stacks of cash.”

You pulled your purse in front of you and pulled out your wallet to make room, shoving it into your back pocket instead. 

“Help me put this in my purse.”

Steve left his post to help you shovel the ID’s discreetly into every pocket your purse provided, shoving things into corners so nothing protruded. 

“Damn, we gotta leave the money,” you pouted. 

Steve chuckled, “What a horrible thing.”

A sudden, boisterous laugh right outside the door caused you to rip your arm away from the safe, thankfully pulling the last of the ID’s with you. You pushed them into your purse, zipping it up. Steve reacted quickly as well, shutting the safe and rotating the dial, pushing the bookcase back into its original position. 

“It’s Ramirez and White,” Steve whispered, looking around the room for any help. “What do we do?”

“Ramirez…” you blinked, eyes wandering around the room as well. Think, think, think. The doorknob jiggled. “Trust me.”

You ripped your purse off and threw it to the nearest couch. You hooked your arms around Steve’s neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Oh my-”

In any other scenario, the whimper that left your throat would have been caused by a surge of ecstasy. But you were frightened of being caught, the whimper a blatant signal to just follow your lead. 

“Slam me into the wall, Captain.”

The door flew open just as Steve did as he was told. 

“And I told him it was ridiculous - oh my…”

You lifted your head from Steve’s neck, wide eyes to accompany your surprised state. “Oh! I thought we locked the door!”

Ramirez covered his eyes bashfully, turning around and staring at the wall. “Don’t mind us, we were just looking for loose smokes.”

Opposite to his intruding partner, White laughed at the scene before him. He dipped low, hands on his knees as he joked. “Didn’t think Captain America had it in him! Been a stiff ever since the ice, huh mate?”

You could feel Steve tense against you, and he froze entirely. You drew your hand up to play with the strands of his hair, putting on your best flirty tone possible. “Oh, trust me. He’s pretty stiff right now.”

Steve seemed to calm under your touch, so he turned his head over his shoulder and gave an embarrassed smile of his own. 

“Excuse us again, Y/N. You two enjoy your time,” Ramirez apologized, pulling at White’s jacket to guide him out of the room. Once you heard the click of the door, you jumped from Steve’s grasp and immediately began patting his back. 

“I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled, his blush rising from his shoulders to his cheeks. “It’s okay, you saved us.”

You inspected him closely, a little embarrassed with yourself. It was a bold move, but one that needed to be done. You stood in silence for a few more seconds, each of you adjusting to such a sudden change of breathing pattern. 

You shut your eyes and groaned silently, “I need to speak with him.”

“Can I wait outside the door?”

You picked up your purse and swung it around your torso, “No, you need to wait in the car. Or smother Ramirez and White, your call.”

The lines on Steve’s forehead deepened, “Y/N, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

You wanted to argue further because Steve really over exaggerated. You fought a whole army of aliens, robots, and even the infamous Winter Soldier. Sure, you lost the battle with Thanos on the first try, you lost a teammate with Ultron, and gained a collapsed lung from Bucky’s insane roundhouse kick, but you were positive you could take your father. “You’re gonna have to. I’ve been alone with him before.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and gave you a blank stare. “He shot you last time.”

“Ehh, Seda did.”

“Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Then wait in the living room.”

“The shield’s in the car. If you need help, I may not have enough time-”

Steve and that goddamn shield. The guy was acting like he wasn’t a super soldier. You were annoyed. Annoyed with a pinch of salt?

“You whip that shield out to save me and I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll link our mics.”

He fumbled around on his phone for a few seconds before you heard the softest beep from below your ear. 

     The last time you had entered that room alone, you left with a bullet lodged deep in your abdomen and with the threat of having it done again. Stumbling and crashing into the walls and random trinkets, leaving your blood stains on anything you used to steady yourself. This time would be different - it had to be. Your father wouldn’t shoot you with the Captain America waiting in the other room. Then again, your father always seemed to top himself each time you were forced to interact personally. In an instant, he dropped the good guy act. Or, hyped joy. 

Now, his stare was cold and calculated, posture upright like he was awaiting your arrival. You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes, a tiny scoff breaking the silence as he returned it. 

“You’re one damn good actor.” 

He chuckled deeply, “We do what we have to do in front of the people who threaten our reign.” 

You kicked the leg of a nearby chair to turn it toward you. Sitting down, you retorted with a chuckle of your own. “You’re not royalty.” 

“We are... you are.”

Third in command. Daughter of the biggest drug lord south of the border? In most cases, you could be considered goddamn royalty. Did you want to be? No, because the title that seemed to fit was ‘a chess piece in the middle of a mad supremacy’. But that was too long.  

“So, what is this? You scared my Captain is gonna knock you off your feet and take your place?” 

His hands slammed the desk. His little basket of pens and pencils toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “I have waited seven, long years for you to bring that man to me. And each time you defied me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” 

You remained seated, a blank stare boring into your father’s. “Uh, probably because he would avenge me. Get it?” 

He wasn’t one for jokes, though. “It would be so easy.” 

Aggravating him further was not the smartest thing to do. And Steve had the same thought as he fumbled with his own thumbs outside, hearing the conversation from afar. He almost wanted to barge in just to put your ass in time out. 

But you had seven years to make up for - a little joke here and there shouldn’t hurt much. 

“You do know I’m an Avenger, right? Trained by Natalia Romanoff herself?” 

You worded your sentence carefully, her alias need not be spoken out loud unless you needed backup. 

“Answer me.”

When his nostrils flared, you knew better than to twist the knife. 

“Steve didn’t sign the accords. He was on the run for two years before you asked me for him. This is public knowledge.”

He pointed his index finger at you, shaking it wildly. “You lie. Why you lie?”

You had to blink multiple times through your shocked state, mouth agape and involuntarily racks of laughter spilling. He couldn’t be serious. You could only repeat the same thing so many times. 

“Like I said all those years ago - He. Was. On. The. Run. No contact. I had no way of contacting him!”

He struggled to grab whatever on his desk to raise toward your face. In this case, he pointed his phone in a threatening manner. “Excuses! Remember the last time you made such a poor excuse?”

The laughing stopped, your mouth immediately shutting. You clenched your jaw to work through your murderous impulses. 

You wondered how your hands would look wrapped around his neck. Red and angry, tightening as each desperate second passes, nails forming crescents as they pressed in his skin. If there was a window, you would definitely kick him out of it. Wave goodbye as he fell dramatically. But the mansion was one story high and you couldn’t magically conjure up a window. God, this would be the absolute best time to have Wanda or Loki here to use some of that dark magic. Either way, you just wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now. 

“He. Was on. The run.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson.”

You stood from your seat and leaned on the desk, arms holding you up and face inches away from his. “You gonna send in your men to remind me? With my Captain a few feet away?”

His lips were trembling as much as yours were - face blotchy with silver droplets of sweat and an angry blush now reaching his forehead. For a seventy-five year old man, he still had such a rage in him that didn’t risk a heart attack. Lucky bastard. 

“He best not interfere if it’s what I choose to do.”

Outside, Steve gripped the back door handle to the point it squished in on itself, metal twisting awkwardly and splintering the paint. His free hand was balled into the meanest fist, even his stubby nails wreaking havoc on his pale palm. He was making himself bleed by the restraint. He took slow breaths, eyes closed but ears fully alert. He wouldn’t cry. Not right now. 

“I called you back alone to invite you to breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

Whether it was because he knew you were only a few seconds from lunging yourself across his desk to break his neck or because he was tired from all the energy he had just exerted, your father slumped back into his seat as he spoke. 

“The hotel has free breakfast.”

He shook his head in complete astonishment, “You’re not getting out of this. I have important business to discuss with each of you.”

You continued to stare him down, “Over coffee?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t leave the estate so close to the wedding. Your sister is flying in tomorrow and I have to make sure construction is done by then.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re the best father in the world.”

Being in the same room was suffocating, but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the man. How unbelievably thoughtless yet calculated he could be. How unbelievably fake yet so damn real in all his hidden meanings.

“Jackeline likes to think so.”

Your sister was sweet, sure, and there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not fight one another, being the only daughters and all. But you were eight years old when she was born, already tainted by the world in which she was just born into. Forgive your lack of sisterly bond. When you were sixteen, you dipped. Now, at the sprouting ages of twenty-six and eighteen, you two couldn’t be more different. 

Actually, yes you could. If she thought your father was a good man, she was entirely ignorant of the world she lives in. 

“Good for her. Why don’t we discuss the shipment transport during the most important day of her life?”

“Nice try. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for - rehearsal.” 

You gave your father a sad smile, “You really won’t trust me. After all these years of following your orders.”

“Now, let’s not go bringing up the past.”

You interrupted, “Why not? You’re trusting my Captain and I to help you move that shipment but won’t trust me enough to tell me where it is right now?” 

He was back to standing but he was much calmer. “Right now, I trust your Captain more than you. What kind of man would leave everything moral behind for a bunch of criminals? A bad one.”

“You’ve known him for like, two seconds.”

Your father searched his pockets for loose cigarettes. “He left everything moral behind for me. For you. And you left me behind for everything moral.”

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from his desk and headed for the door. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense. Is that it? Are we done?”

“You accept my invitation?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” 

     The mansion seemed larger than when you entered, the hallways longer, the walls closing in, the trinkets reaching out to stop you by the wrist. The longer you stayed in this hell hole, the more likely you were probably going to unleash the rage attached to your body in the form of your favorite weapons. Bomb the hell out of this place. 

You marched to Steve’s car. He was already waiting, leaning along the passenger door like he was going to open it for you. If he did, you might kill him too. So, you repeatedly snapped your fingers at him and pointed around the car, silently but angrily motioning him to get in. He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, he thought it might be therapeutic for you to throw the door open and slam it yourself. It was. 

Steve started the car. He didn’t need to ask, there was no reason to since he heard everything. And so did Sam. Bucky. Scott. It was being transcribed as you swerved out of the estate. God, you wanted to throw up. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

Steve choked on his breath, “Stop?” 

You rolled down the windows to breathe in the crisp cold air, teeth becoming sensitive as it passed into your lungs. “Once we get past the cameras and nearby neighborhoods.” 

“Did you need-“ 

“When I say stop, stop. Fucking damn, Steve! Listen to me for once!”

Steve didn’t know why he was challenging you. Your father had just brought up one of the most traumatic moments of your life, basically called you a hypocrite and a coward - he tried to tear you down. And here you were, holding it all together like the champ he found you to be. But he never handled your outbursts well, even if they were completely justified. 

“Don’t fucking give me orders if you won’t tell me what they’re for!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

He slammed on the breaks, instincts still kicking in during your argument and he reached his arm out to your side to hold you back from the powerful surge. His body lunged forward, however, chest hitting the steering wheel and horn. 

You scrambled out of the car and ran into the woods, feet guiding you through mud and prickly bushes until they reached a more secluded spot. Steve stumbled along after you, nearly tripping over the same rocks you had avoided masterfully. 

Before he could ask what you were doing, you pulled your gun from its hidden holster and clicked the safety. Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head just in time to see the first round sound off mid-air. He crouched down to the floor and shielded his head. You shot away from him, obviously, until all seven rounds were dislodged, aimed in the sky diagonally. 

Once the last bullet exited, you simply packed everything up. Now calm and collected, you turned around and headed back for the car.

Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Seriously?”

You pushed branches away from your head as you walked, “Seriously.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is? Those bullets don’t just disappear into thin air,” Steve scolded, jogging up to speed walk beside you. 

“So fucking what? I’m keeping the rent low in this area, then.”

Steve sighed in defeat, “Talk to me.”

“Sorry, I’m shutting down.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned, tears of frustration not entirely formed, but in their beginning stages. “You already know what’s stressing me out, Steve. Do you need it in writing?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve lowered his voice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just,” you paused, stopping to face him. You opened and closed your hands mid-air as if that would help you formulate your sentences better. “I don’t know. But when I find out, I’ll let you know.”

This Steve could accept. So he simply nodded, guiding you the rest of the way with his hand gently placed on your lower back. 

     The drive back to the hotel was fairly silent. The radio provided a calming relief from such drama. Steve would glance at you every so often to check on you, but you were always resting your eyes. This was only the first day of the mission - officially. If you were this drained from one encounter, Steve needed to rethink this whole operation. Whether it was healthy to keep you on, or if the threat was just too large. But no matter the alternatives, Steve understood that this week was going to be difficult either way, and you needed to be present. This was your mission after all. He was just your partner. 

Even with a thousand things on your mind, you were still conscious enough to check your surroundings, check-in with the agent posted behind the front desk, and reconnect your mic with the teams. 

Steve pushed open your room door and threw the car keys on one of the nearby tables. “Nap time?”

You ignored his initial question, “I didn’t think seeing them in person again would be so draining.”

Steve watched you carefully, somewhat scared that you would pull out your gun again and shatter a window. “It was pretty cramped.”

You started to disarm yourself, tearing off your sweater and holsters clumsily. “And they acted like we were all on good terms! Around you, at least. I know they’re acting for my sister’s sake and then we can go back to hating each other after, but really?”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, eyes sorry. “I really don’t know what to say.”

You threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face into the pillows. You continued speaking, albeit muffled. “You don’t have to say anything - just let me rant.”

“You’ll tire yourself out, Y/N. C’mon, we gotta draft up this report-”

You lifted yourself up and started smoothing down your hair, “I need a drink.”

Steve pointed to the computer, “The report.”

“A drink.” 

“Y/N, it’s getting late. The sooner we draft it, the sooner-”

You grumbled out again, already opening the door and shoving your boots on. “Steve, I need a drink. You know what they do to me, what they’ve done to me, what they continue to do every single day. Now, join me or not but I am going downstairs for a drink.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking around the room hesitantly. “Can I at least take the laptop?”

You threw your head back and walked out the door, “Take the goddamn laptop, jesus fucking christ, c’mon.”

     If there’s one thing you were happy about today, it was that you booked a hotel with a mini bar on the second floor. It wasn’t an outright full bar, but it was low lit, clean and the counters were made from fine wood, and there was a variety of flavors to choose from. There were only a few hotel guests spread out and a single bartender. You and Steve took seats at the counter. 

“Whiskey sour,” you called for the bartender, trying and failing to give him the nicest smile you could. 

Steve settled in his bar stool, “Thought you wanted to drink to drink hard.”

You chuckled at him and extended your arms in a stretch, “I’m mad, not depressed.”

He grinned at your movements - as if just sitting in a bar already loosened you up. “In that case, get me a beer.”

     Natasha had called Steve for help after your fourth beer and fifth whiskey. Her coaxing proved to be pointless, each request of a safe passage home seeming to enter one ear and leave the other. And you’ll end up killing her when you were sober enough for sending unwanted reinforcements, but even she didn’t want to fight you. If you wanted to drown in liquid courage, that courage churning itself into raw despair, then she would allow it. 

Steve stared at you for a few moments. Head hanging low, a deep frown etched into your tired expression, index finger tapping your glass as if you were debating whether to down it in one go or to leave it. Steve had never seen you like this, guard destroyed and face practically pale, just begging to be left alone. And it seemed the whole bar felt the same way, as there was no music playing and everyone was wallowing in their own grief. 

“I can spot you from a mile away, you know?”

Your voice immediately pulled Steve from his own mind and he was surprised you could still form coherent sentences given the amount of empty glasses in front of you. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You scoffed, leaning away from him as he sat down in the stool beside you. “Natasha sent you. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

Steve ordered a beer for himself, and although he was driving, one beer wouldn’t impair him anyway. It wouldn’t even cause a dent in his 20/20 vision. 

“Fucking ridiculous, it’s fucking ridiculous!” 

The bar patrons seemed to wince simultaneously and the bartender simply gathered a few of your empty glasses to wash. Steve didn’t hush you, didn’t touch you, didn’t try to reassure you. If you needed to cause a scene, it was time. Your silence for the past week had been frightening, but when Tony returned last night, half dead and without the kid, it seemed to be your breaking point. 

“Wanda destroyed it. She destroyed the fucking stone and all he did was use another to bring it back.”

Steve took a sip of his beer to disguise his quivering lip, but his eyes had no curtain. His waterline swelled with fresh tears, eyes instantly reddening, an undesired sting pinching the corners. 

“Strange must have had a reason. He must’ve, but - how can that reason include the death of trillions?”

“We’re going to find a way-”

“And if we don’t?”

Steve kept his lips on the bottle, incisors biting down only slightly as he took in your rhetorical question. You continued speaking.

“He destroyed the stones.”

“Carol is looking for answers.”

You shook your head and pulled out your wallet, leaving whatever cash you had on the counter before standing up. You stumbled but Steve latched onto your arm and pulled it to hug his waist. 

“Loki?” you mumbled, raising your head to lock eyes with Steve. He didn’t know if you were calling him another name or if you were asking for the God’s whereabouts. “Bucky?”

“Hey, stop, stop.”

“Peter?”

Steve could only nod. What use was it to lie to you? Your new vertical position seemed to magnify the true extent of your intoxication as your eyes finally glazed over and limbs trembled. 

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Gripping his shirt, you apologized each time it would crumble and you would accidentally tug it downward. But Steve didn’t care. You were practically limp in his arms, heavy and without proper use of your legs. 

“You’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve sighed sadly but couldn’t help the small smile that formed as he looked down at you and found you sporting a silly one of your own. 

“A really good man. I’m happy you’re still here.”

Steve paused for a moment, taking in your words and holding back his own tears. If there was a time he wanted to be drunk off his ass, it would be now. He was somewhat jealous of the brief relief alcohol had given you, loose and not fully aware of the drama of the world. “I’m happy, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you slurred, allowing Steve to guide you to his car. You slumped against the passenger door as Steve searched his pocket for his key. “I heard you crying last night.”

Steve halted his search mid-pat, a hard crease forming between his eyebrows as he lifted his head. “I wasn’t-”

“I cry too,” you admitted, a drunken pout on your face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Perhaps it was a dirty thing for him to do at this moment because you wouldn’t remember a single word of this conversation in the morning, but he figured there was no immediate harm. He found his key, unlocked the car, and helped you inside. Only once he entered the car himself did he take advantage of your blurry mind. 

“I cried for Sam and Bucky. Who do you cry for?”

You clicked the seatbelt on, mind clear enough for safety precautions it seemed. “Poor Wanda.”

Steve nodded and started the car. “Anything else?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Loki asked me on a date?”

Steve immediately shut off the car and turned to you. “Huh? When?”

You grinned, small giggles bubbling from your chest. “A few months ago. He was so shy, too. I said yes.”

Steve ignored the twinge in his chest, “How was it?”

You leaned your head back and tilted it towards him, your smile faltered slightly. “Never went on it. And now he’s dead.”

The urge to lean over and wrap you in a much needed hug was there, eating away at him since you called him a good man. But he had taken advantage of this situation far too much, so he simply nodded in understanding and started the car again. 

“I’m sorry.”

You barely heard him, but you mumbled a quick response before letting the alcohol fully consume you. “Me too.”

     You thanked the bartender when they slid you your drink. “I hadn’t seen him since before the world went to shit.” You took a quick sip. “Kinda strange.”

Steve nodded, wondering if he should dive deep into the issue at hand. Instead of outright saying his outdated spiel, he eased into it. He gave you a few needed sips of your drink, at least.  “Y/N, can I ask an honest question?”

You hummed, “My toes are already tingling. You could probably ask me what my kinks are and I’d tell you.”

Steve suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, “You never could handle a sip of alcohol.”

Your eyes rounded at his reaction. Perhaps the alcohol affected him in other fun ways that he didn’t know. “Nope, I’m a lightweight.”

Steve contained himself before clearing his throat, “The question…”

“Go ahead.”

He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his beer. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “If it comes down to it, and god forbid you’re incapacitated, do you want me to kill your father?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck behind your tongue. You looked down at your drink, as if some special response was swimming in it. You knew your answer, but the way to phrase it was lost. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

“But if it was the last choice?”

You sighed, “If you pull that trigger, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together, “But if you pull it?”

You shrugged and raised the glass to your lips. “That’s my life, Steve. Let me deal with the consequences.”

“That’s just it - you don’t have to. At least, not alone.”

God, you hated how perfect Steve sounded all the time. Whenever he was annoying you, fighting you, or protecting you, his syllables were stretched in the most glorious way, dipping into every crevice of the person they were delivered to and warming inches of body slowly. You wanted him to have somewhat of an evil side for once in his life, but no matter how many times you thought he would explode, he didn’t.

Two years ago, when he dropped you from his life in an instant, you had assumed you finally caught a glimpse at this evil side. It was the only time you were truly scared of him. 

“You really are a good person.”

Steve swished his beer bottle around, “I wish everyone would stop being surprised by that.”

“I’m not surprised. I guess I just want to hate you, and I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped like crumbling mountains and you couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable he looked. You wanted to pull him closer and rest your head to his chest, hear his heartbeat and apologize for theorizing a possible hatred. 

“Why do you want to hate me?”

“When you wouldn’t sign the accords, part of me saw that as the mascot of America not caring if he invaded and pillaged everything in his path.”

“But I-” Steve interjected, but you stopped him by raising your hand and waving it gently. 

“I know why you didn’t. Hell, I helped you escape.”

“Why did you help if you hated me?”

Being vulnerable with Steve wasn’t anything new. You were each other’s support system for those lonely five years, but it all changed the moment you defeated Thanos. So, for the last two years you didn’t quite get along. But here, now, you could always tell when Steve was being honest and open. 

“Guess I thought that if you were willing to help me with my family, I should help you with yours.”

His therapist desperately tried to rationalize the experiences Steve would tell, instructing him to look past hard exteriors and accept help from others. That his old friends were still friends, and enemies should never be compared to those he loved. And he knew he was easily blinded when something or someone had the slightest mishap, instantly writing it off as harmful. 

He spoke of you often during his one hour sessions - stories of your blatant silliness and crude jokes; how you would poke your finger into his sandwiches when you thought he wasn’t looking; how you almost beat up a kid and his little gang for baiting Peter after his identity was exposed; and how you and Sam had gotten into a bar fight over something so trivial, so unnecessary, that it was almost unbelievable to see you innocently scoot away from the body on the floor in the police video, as if you had nothing to do with it and those few feet of distance automatically cleared you. 

His therapist would just listen. 

“Did I ever thank you?”

You smiled sadly, “You went into hiding soon after. Then we went to battle, lost everyone, went to battle again, and then…”

“And then.”

‘And then’ wasn’t really something you two liked to bring up. It was still a fresh wound, somewhat patched up, but still open. 

You spaced out for a few minutes, both of you enjoying your drinks. You were no longer drinking to get drunk, not that it was your original goal to begin with. You just sat in comfortable silence, reliving the events earlier that day and drafting an internal report. 

“What are you thinking about?”

You pursed your lips and thought, clicking your tongue when it finally dawned on you. “This was the first time I saw Marcus White sober.”

Steve sat up straighter, “Are you sure? He didn’t look it.”

“Yeah, he usually speaks quickly and he fidgets. But he was coherent this afternoon.”

“Should that be a red flag?”

You took out your phone and sent a quick text to Torres for him to monitor White closely for the next few days, just in case. “A big one. My father referred to him more often than he did Ramirez.”

Steve tackled every idea in his head quickly, speaking as a new one popped up. “They could be planning a move against Ramirez. He’s close to overthrowing your father.”

You raised your head from your phone, “And the wedding would be a perfect distraction.”

“He would kill his greatest rival on your sister’s happiest day?”

You let out a low chuckle, “This man has nothing to lose. It won’t matter who he topples along the way.”

Steve opened the laptop, silently congratulating himself for bringing it despite your insults, and began drafting the report. The two of you worked for the next hour, nursing a couple more drinks before you sent the final copy to Bucky. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

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[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter Three

That Monday, when he got to the lecture hall, he glared at Aliya for the entire time. She was visibly avoiding his gaze, tugging down her hair so she wouldn't make eye contact with him.

After it ended, he quickly walked over to her, coughing loudly from behind his fist.

"So. Judas comes to face his crimes."

Aliya turned and gave him a pitying look. "I'm really sorry! I completely forgot I had a revision session in the morning and I had to prepare for it. I felt so guilty."

Evan glared at her for another second – before rolling his eyes with a smile. He was a benevolent kind of person when he wanted to be. "It's fine."

"You sounded like you had a good time," Aliya teased him. “Your texts were indecipherable.”

"Uh. I think I did." He pulled a face as he failed to remember literally anything about how he got home. "It’s all kind of a blur. There was this girl..."

Aliya's eyes went wide. "There was?"

"Ah, shut up, she just said a bunch of stuff at me and then... Hm. I don't remember much after that, but clearly nothing weird happened since I got home safe and fully dressed."

Aliya tutted. "This is why I don't drink. Sounds kind of scary."

Evan opened his mouth to say something like "you get used to it", but then he remembered that he was trying to be normal and closed his mouth again. "Yeah. Haha, a little. I'm not sure you would have enjoyed the party. It was loud and everyone was off their faces."

"Maybe. I'm glad you were okay, though. And you got home safe."

Evan smiled. By now, they were long outside the lecture hall and were walking through campus. Students were rushing from building to building, or walking in groups and chattering away together. So many people who were meant to be here. They all looked like they were right at home.

There was a flash of black in the corner of his vision. Evan turned his head automatically, only to see the black cat from a few days ago sprawled across a wall. It was staring at him with green eyes, unblinking and imperious.

"Oh, it's the university cat," he said to Aliya. "Look."

"Aww. I'm more of a dog person," she said bluntly.

The cat's eyes narrowed in disgust.

Evan was about to go over and pet it when he heard someone say his name over his shoulder. He looked behind him, only to see a boy with curly blond hair and an angelic smile. He was looking at the cat with a strangely intense gaz, before snapping back to smile at Evan.

"Ruth!" he said. "Hey!"

Ruth waved. "Hello again. You look like you've recovered from Friday night."

Wait. Wait a minute... Evan squinted at him, before feeling his face flush red. Was Ruth there as well?! He didn’t remember seeing him at all!! He laughed awkwardly. "I am. So sorry. I don't remember a lot. I was... very drunk."

Ruth nodded. "I was. I thought you might have difficulty remembering."

Aliya's eyebrows inched up her forehead, right into her hijab. Evan realised that he had been quite rude, and quickly introduced her. "This is my terrible friend from Astro. She invited me to the party and then left me to die."

"I'm Aliya," she said, elbowing him in the stomach subtly.

Ruth gave her a polite nod, before turning his attention back to Evan. "I hope you don't mind that I let myself into your house. You seemed very worried that I was going to harvest your organs."

"You were the one who took me home?!” Evan yelped, feeling the blood rush all the way to the tips of his ears. “Oh, haha, what? Haha, so weird," Evan said, feeling himself dying of mortification again. "Thank you so much. I don't mind at all. That was really nice of you. Usually I just stumble home by myself, you know? God, sorry, I must have been so annoying to handle."

Ruth shook his head, his hair tumbling around his ears. "You weren't annoying at all. You were very sweet, like a well behaved child."

Evan wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "Haha, that's good. Still, I'm so sorry. Thank you. Augh."

How was he so bad at this?

An idea occurred to him. He quickly started rummaging in his pockets. "Wait, wait, I think I owe you a coffee for saving my life twice now. I don't have a lecture for a while, so..."

Ruth looked at him in surprise. There was a yawning moment of silence in which Evan questioned everything that made him ask that question and wondered if it was too late to change his name and move to Mexico.

But then Ruth smiled. "I think I owe you one instead. You spilled yours last time."

"In that case, I'll pay for yours and you pay for mine, and we can call that even," Evan laughed, feeling relief flood through him.

There was a polite cough from behind him. "Well, I have a study group to get to, so," Aliya said, shooting Evan a knowing smile. "I'll let you two go have fun. See you, Evan."

Evan felt a little bit guilty at accidentally muscling Aliya out of the conversation. He waved her goodbye and turned back to Ruth, and all his guilt was forgotten. Ruth's smile was blinding. There were two little dimples in his cheeks. Wow, he didn’t know anyone in real life with dimples.

"Let's go," he said, inclining his head in the direction of the coffee shop, and off they went.

Evan watched Ruth over his coffee while trying to look like he was doing no such thing.

Ruth was fascinating. He had a very handsome face, with eyes that could have been carved into one of those old statues they kept in the museums of Rome. His movements were all graceful and deliberate, from the way he stirred his coffee to the way he unwrapped his blue scarf from around his neck.

He was also tall. Evan wasn't short – okay, he was kind of short – but Ruth made him feel like a god damn manlet.

"So," he said, because he felt the need to fill the silence with something, "what course are you on?"

"Actually, I'm a part time student."

"Eh, no way. I didn't know you could do an undergrad part time!"

Ruth smiled and shrugged. "I have a job on the side. It takes up a lot of my time. I suppose the university understood I had other commitments."

Evan blinked. "Wow. Must be an intense job."

"You have no idea," Ruth said, something steely glinting in his grey eyes. "But it's rewarding."

"Is it why you skip so many lectures?"

Ruth nodded. Evan couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"Then what is it?"

Supermodel? Secret agent? Government official? What was important enough that the university would let him mess around with the schedule like this?

Ruth just winked at him, and Evan immediately upgraded all his guesses. Eldest son of a mob boss. Heir to the CEO of a huge corporation. A superhero in disguise as a student.

"That's fine. I didn't want to know anyway," Evan lied. "I bet it's something boring like business management."

Ruth ran his finger along his cup, his eyes flickering down to the table. "In a way, I suppose you're not far off."

"So... why astrophysics?"

"No reason, really. I just felt something pulling me here. That's all."

Wow! Such a free spirit! This guy was definitely some kind of billionaire. Only a rich person could afford to come to university on a whim and then spend half his time doing something else instead. Evan, who thought coffee was a fancy treat, tried to contain his jealousy and failed.

They drank their drinks in companionable silence. Evan was full of questions, but he didn’t want it to seem like he was interrogating his new friend. He was just curious!

“Do you... go to a lot of student parties?”

Ruth shrugged. “Not generally.”

“Oh. Aside from last night, I guess. Um... actually, about last night... I was wondering about what exactly happened.”

Ruth went still. “Yes?”

“Was I... alright? When did I go home?”

“I found you upstairs in someone’s bedroom with a few people. It looked like you were playing some kind of game that involved kissing,” Ruth replied. “You seemed very uncomfortable with the situation. Did I misread that?”

A kissing game. What the hell. Evan hadn’t played one of those for years. He wondered who he was smooching when Ruth discovered him. So deeply, horrifically embarrassing.

“I have no idea,” Evan replied with a shrug. “I don’t really remember if I was comfortable or not.”

There was a faint frown colouring Ruth’s pleasant smile. “Then I’m glad I was there regardless. There should be no room for doubt with things like this.”

“Hah, in an ideal world. In my experience, there’s always doubt. You just kind of have to move on afterwards.”

Ruth’s throat bobbed, but he didn’t say anything else. His coffee was steaming so much that it fogged up Evan’s glasses, and he took them off with a chuckle to clean them. “Wow, look at that,” he said, desperate to change the subject. “It’s that time of the year where I go blind every time I enter a warm room. You don’t wear contacts, right?”

Ruth, still speechless, shook his head. Oh, this was awkward. Evan got the horrible feeling that he had messed up somewhere.

“So lucky. Well, hah, look at the time. I should start heading to my next lecture.”

He didn’t have a next lecture. That was a lie. But he really didn’t want to hurt the poor guy’s feelings. He started gathering his stuff slowly, trying not to look like he was rushing out of there. Ruth let out a deep breath, before reaching across to lightly touch Evan’s wrist. His skin was very hot from where it had been holding his coffee cup.

“The next time you go to a party,” he said quietly, “take me with you.”

“Sorry?” Evan said, certain that he misheard.

“Take me too. I, ah.. I’m actually quite nervous around people. And I find it difficult to go alone. It would be... nice to have a friend to go with.”

“Oh, dude, me too,” Evan said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I have mad social anxiety. I actually don’t get invited to a lot of things like that anymore, but if I do, I guess I’ll text you and see if you’re free?”

Ruth nodded, his hand slipping off Evan’s wrist.

“Thanks.”

“It’s no worries. We can be anxious buds together.”

With a slow incline of his head, Ruth signalled that he would like that, and Evan felt some of his nervousness settle somehow. It was a surprisingly soothing gesture.

“Well. See you at the next one.”

“See you then.”

And then Evan rushed off to hide in the library for a couple of hours so Ruth wouldn’t see him walking around campus when he was supposed to be in a fake lecture instead.

Evan was getting out of the shower when he noticed something black flash in the corner of his vision. He whirled around, rubbing shampoo out of his eyes, visions of getting murdered by some opportunistic shower murderer running through his brain.

However, when he looked around, there was nothing there. He swore he saw something, though. Something in the reflection of the bathroom tiles near his back.

When he was done, he stopped by the mirror in the hallway and checked his body just in case the black thing had been a huge house spider or something. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had a spider fall on him in the shower. Usually they washed down the sinkhole, leaving Evan shivering and feeling strangely violated, but what if this one managed to cling onto his naked skin?

There was no spider. Instead, sprawling across Evan’s lower back like a trampstamp was a sprawling, intricate black tattoo, formed from archaic lettering and symbolism that he couldn’t read.

“Hey, what the fuck,” he said into the empty house.

Having no housemates meant that he couldn’t run into anybody’s room and ask them to read whatever the hell it now said on his back. He tried rubbing at it, but nothing happened. It didn’t even feel weird or raised. It just felt like skin, and it didn’t budge.

Not even soap or nail polish remover got it off his back. It was like ink had sunk into his skin and stuck there overnight.

Evan was, understandably, more than a little freaked out.

> HEY UHHH SO > sent: image_5473843.jpg > ???

wow, that’s a really interesting tattoo!! when did you get it? <

> well you see that’s the thing aliya. i didn’t. > i do not know where this tattoo came from. ummm > i am freaking out a little!!

wh??! < you mean it just....??? appeared?? <

> yeah?? i literally do not remember getting any tattoo there??! ever?

you do have a lot of tattoos... are you sure you didn’t forget about one of them? <

> you don’t just forget about a tattoo!! > okay actually. sometimes you do. BUT NOT THIS BIG. THIS IS A TRAMP STAMP > I WOULD NEVER GET A TRAMP STAMP > oh god what if this happened while i was drunk at that party

ok calm down do you want me to come over and look at it? <

> no, it’s fine. i’ll just. ???? hhhhhhhhh > wait, there is something you can do! can you get me the numbers of uhh. fuck what was their name uhhh Tree. Branch > ROCK > and there was this girl who dressed like a goth, they were both at the party, can you ask your netball friends if they have their numbers? they might know what happened?? i guess? help?

i’ll ask around babe x sorry about this maybe go to the police? <

> they’ll just say i was drunk and there was nothing they could do. but thank you anyway i really appreciate this. sorry for bothering you

no need to apologise at all xx hoping you’re okay xx message me whenever you like <

Evan examined the tattoo in the mirror again. Now that the shock had worn off... well. Aliya was right. He already had so many tattoos. Most of them were already stupid ones he got on a whim. So even if he didn’t ask for this one... it was okay, right? It wasn’t so bad.

It was even kind of cool, in an old-school, mall goth kind of way. Spidery webbing and dots of red ink in what he thought might have been flowers of some kind. He tried to take a photo with his phone, but his hands kept shaking, so he just kept getting blurry pictures of his ass. Not ideal, honestly.

With a sigh, he stretched out on his bed and examined his older tattoos. His favourite one was still the navy outline of a falling star stretching down his inner arm towards his hand. It was his first proper one that he got done at a real tattoo parlour. A lot of the earlier ones were... well, the less said about how close he got to a skin infection, the better.

With a sigh, he tugged on a long sleeved shirt from his closet. Until he could work out why he suddenly had that black monstrosity on the back of his hips, he wasn’t sure he wanted to accidentally keep catching glimpses of it in every reflective surface.

Wait a minute. There was someone else there at the party. Someone who might have seen something that could help.

He opened up the messages from the unknown number and prayed that it was who he hoped it was.

> heyyy ruth i hope this is you!! haha hi

The reply came back about half an hour later, which was just long enough for Evan to overthink everything that had ever happened to him.

It’s me. Rest assured. :) <

Oh god. How to word this?

> well i’m doing good actually i’m you know. chilling! > actually there was something i wanted to ask you > please excuse the ass in this photo!!!!!

The what. <

> sent: image_5473843.jpg

Who did this. <

> funny question! i don’t know > i was hoping you could help???

I’m coming over. <

> no, i meant like do you remember seeing anyone at the party with a tattoo gun or a stick and poke or something?? you don’t have to come over sorry i don’t want to be a bother

You’re not a bother. I’m coming over. <

Well. Fuck. Evan panicked and threw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and then felt stupid, because presumably Ruth was going to come and look at the tattoo. Maybe he should wear nicer clothes? Did he have time to tidy his room?

> are you sure haha i don’t want to inconvenience you!!!

I was in the area anyway. It’s okay if you don’t want me to come over. But I have an idea about what happened. < Sorry. I know this must be alarming. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. <

Evan thought about it. Well. It was the only lead he had.

> sure why not come on over

I’m outside. <

The doorbell rang.

***

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Previous Chapter | Contents | Next Chapter

#chapter

[faraway-in-headspace]

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states:  Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states:  A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states:  That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states:  Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

#infinity train #chicken choice judy #mine

[sage-sunset]

sunflowers in the rainy winter  - akaashi bday special

this is an aged up, post-college au for my akaashi simps out there

warnings - not much, total fluff, a bit suggestive at the very end 

recommended - 14+

wc - 2.2k

______

“Happy birthday, baby!” He looks you up and down, rubbing his tired eyes. You’re standing there in that pastel blue puffer coat that he bought you a month ago, shaking from the cold with raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. It’s pouring outside, and you’re holding your umbrella in one hand and a box in the other.

“y/n… love… it’s 12:07. In the morning.”

“I know! I wanted to beat Bokuto this year, he probably won’t get here until two!” “...until?” “You must be tired. Let’s go to bed!” You set the umbrella in the bag and put it in the little stand he has before taking off your coat. You’re wearing fuzzy flannel pajamas, the set Bokuto got the three of you last year. You’re still shivering when you put the box into the fridge and then pull him into the bedroom.

Normally you like to hold him, but since you’re freezing like this, he wraps you into his arms and you flop onto the bed together to huddle under the blankets. Your feet are like ice cubes, and he kisses your forehead and smiles into your hair as you fall asleep in his arms. 

He may have been woken up at midnight, but you being here already makes it the best birthday ever.

_

He’s barely dozed off when the door bursts open, and the telltale “HEY HEY HEY” rings out. He rolls his eyes and sits up to see his best friend, standing there in his soaked glory. You’re somehow still asleep, hands clinging to his shirt.

Bokuto is covered in rain, his silvery hair plastered to his clammy forehead. It’s so cold outside Keiji is surprised it’s not snowing.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRO-” “Bokuto-san, please keep it down. Y/N is still sleeping.” “My bad! HAHAHA-” “Loud.” “Sorry!” He whisper-yells, and Keiji rolls his eyes again. Why did he give this doofus a house key? “Anyways, if you’re this adamant about being here, you can crash on the couch like last year.” “Nah, I’m gonna go home. It’s cold as balls outside, and I want my blanket!” Just like that, he leaves. He spent a good 25 minutes walking over to Keiji’s house in the freezing cold rain at midnight, and he literally just yelled for thirty seconds and then left again.

What the fuck? He tries not to think about it, and goes back to letting you curl into him.

_

This time, he wakes up by himself. The curtain’s open, light filters through, and he sits up. You’re not there, but the smell of something delicious wafts through the apartment.

He rubs his eyes and checks the time, it’s only a bit past eight. He smiles when he walks into the kitchen to see you making something, obviously the source of the smell.

“Love, what’s this?” “Making waffles for my waffle!” He stares at you.

“That sounded much more romantic in my head.” His waffle is just the way he likes them; crispy but still soft and fluffy inside. He stares at it, a warm fuzzy feeling bubbling inside at the little message you’ve spelled out in syrup over the whipped cream; “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”. Jesus, he needs to marry you soon.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” “Coffee, please.” He takes a bite once you’ve sat down. It’s perfect, and as he eats he stares at you. You’re perfect too. 

“So, I’m sure you’ve already booked my day full. What are the plans?” You giggle, and the sound makes him feel even warmer.

“I remembered last month that you said that that new gallery was opening up at the museum. And Tsukishima-kun told me that there’s a big shark exhibit opening at the aquarium. So I figured-” “We go to the gallery, get lunch at that cafe we love, and see the sharks?” “You read my mind! Do you want to do that? If not, we can plan something else-” He takes one of your hands in his, and gently presses a kiss to your knuckle, right on your little silver band.

“It sounds absolutely perfect.” He starts to gather up the dishes, but you swat him away.

“You’re the birthday boy, go get ready! Oh, and I forgot to mention, Kuroo-san said that he and a few others are coming over around seven. So we should try to get back by five or so.” He pecks your cheek as you wash the dishes, and you giggle again.

“That’s fine. Do you know how long they’ll be over?” “Not sure, but it won’t be too late, trust me. I’ll have plenty of time to see my birthday boy in his birthday suit…” He blushes, and you turn back to washing the plates. 

“Go take a shower. I’ll join you in a bit.”

_

The gallery is incredible. You seem to agree, staring into each painting with focus and intent. The good thing about you both being artsy is that you can enjoy this kind of thing together.

He holds your hand gently as you lead him to the centerpiece. It’s nothing short of breathtaking. A huge, sprawling field of sunflowers in the middle of summer. The sky is the purest blue you can imagine, and puffy clouds float in the sea of azure. There’s a pair of hot air balloons floating among the clouds, one decorated in oranges and one in purples. In the distance a little farmhouse sits on the hill. The painting is oil, and it’s huge, taller than him. 

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it, Keiji?” He says nothing, staring into the flower field. He imagines for a second that it’s real, that you and him are standing in the ocean of sunflowers, under the summer sky.

That farmhouse could be yours. He can see it, a quiet life there with you two. He’d spend the day writing, you’d spend the day playing the piano and singing with that little fairy voice of yours. 

You’d take a picnic basket down into the field, lay down a little blanket and watch the sunset on the hill. Just the two of you, safe and calm and warm as the sun fades away.

“Keiji?” He’s startled out of his fantasy to see you looking at him, a smile playing at your lips.

“Did you hear me?” “Sorry, what did you say?” “I just said that you’ve been staring at that painting for the past fifteen minutes. I’m starting to get jealous,” you tease.

He smiles at that notion. The painting may be beautiful, but it fades in comparison to you. But then again, so does everything else.

“Let’s get lunch, love. We’ll have to hurry if we want to catch those sharks.” -

This cafe may well be his favorite place on earth. Simply put, it’s where you met. You worked there part time, and he’d stopped by every day after class to get his work done. Once he’d first seen you though, he began to focus on you, rather than his homework.

It took him a month to build up the balls to ask you out. You’d said yes, and your very first date was dinner and a planetarium show. Much more romantic than a movie, you’d said when he asked if it was lame.

And now here you were, about to eat lunch here after being together for two and a half years. There you are, ordering him a Hokkaido bubble tea and red bean toast, the two things you spent weeks writing down his order for. Before he’s even pulled out his wallet, you’ve paid, and he’s barely able to scold you for not letting him pay because you sit him down.

“That painting was really something else, huh?” He nods, gazing into your eyes.

“Don’t stare, you’re making me self-conscious.” “Shush, let me admire my beautiful girlfriend.” Since you’re in public, the most you can do without getting looks is hold hands, which you do even when the bubble teas and pastries are set down in front of you. His thumb gently strokes the band on your finger.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as you walk into the aquarium. He doesn’t let go as you walk past the giant tank, staring at the colorful fish and little crustaceans. He doesn’t let go when you ask the kind older woman to take a picture of you two in the shark’s mouth, and he most certainly doesn’t let go as you gently stroke the bamboo shark’s back in the touch tank.

Neither of you want to leave, but he knows that his friends will be coming over soon and you’ll want to have the cake and stuff ready. So before you leave, he buys you an adorable stuffed shark plush from the gift store.

Once you’re home, you decide to eat a little something so that you won’t be having only cake for dinner. He sets out some leftovers; the braised eggs from yesterday morning, the cucumber salad you made a few days ago to go with the katsu bowls, and he heats up some rice and leftover chicken.

While the love of your life sets out some food, you take the cake you brought over last night out of the fridge and place it out on the table. It’s simple, swirled with purple and blue with macarons on top. You also bought a 23 candle, a little golden one. 

It’s perfect.

You eat quickly, only having a little bit but enough to satisfy your stomach. Before you two know it, there’s a knock at the door.

The only person who’d knock, it’s Tsukishima. He may be a sarcastic little shit, but he’s tolerable compared to the other people coming over tonight.

“Good evening, y/n-san.” “Hey, Tsukki-kun. Come on it, it’s chilly outside.” In a little bit, Kuroo and Kenma show up. Then come Yukie and Kaori, Komi and Konoha, and of course the ace himself.

“HEY HEY HEY! HOW’S THE BIRTHDAY BOY DOIN’?!”

You smile at Yukie and Kaori, shaking your heads at the tall man who’s currently hugging your boyfriend so tightly you think he might burst.

“I’m doing well, Bokuto-san. Would you mind putting me down?” “Sure thing, birthday buddy! n/n been takin’ care of you today?” “I’m sure she has, in quite a few ways,” snickers Kuroo, and Bokuto guffaws as Kenma elbows the rooster-headed asshole.

“Don’t be crude.” scolds Kenma as he scrolls through his phone. You assume that Kuroo made him leave his switch at home.

Two hours into the evening and a bottle of champagne later and the cake is almost gone. Yukie and Bokuto are having an arm wrestling contest on the coffee table with Tsukki as the referee, Kaori is passed out on the couch, Komi and Konoha are giggling like second graders for no reason, and Kenma is crying into Kuroo’s shirt about his village and how he needs to get back to the island, that shit ain’t gonna build itself. Keiji is sitting beside you, his head buried in your shoulder.

“You tired, baby?” He nods, his hand gently rubbing your thigh.

“Okay, I’ll call a cab for these idiots. Sit tight.” You stand to go grab your phone, and before you know it the living room is clear of the eight stooges. Keiji walks up behind you, his face slightly flushed, and wraps his arms around you. You can tell he’s a bit tipsy, but he’s not falling over or anything.

“Baby, go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll clean up in here.” “I can help, love-” “No. I’ll only be a minute. The birthday boy still has one more gift to open.”

With that, you unlatch him from you and go to clean up the glasses and plates. It was nice to catch up with everybody, especially the girls. There were only ten of you, but it was nice to have company for the first time in a while.

You set the leftover cake into the fridge before going into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and you can feel a pair of eyes on you as you wash up and change into one of his shirts.

“Come here, love.”

“In a second.”

“You’re spending the night, right?”

“Of course, baby. I’m yours for the night.”

“You’re too good to me.” “You’re one to talk, prince charming.” He smiles and takes you into his arms. The kiss he pulls you into is just as dizzying and passionate as all of his kisses, but just a bit more fervent. He’s excited, and so are you. 

He pulls away to take your hand, his favorite place to press gentle kisses to. His lips brush over the little band for what feels like the millionth time today, and you remember the promise that the ring means. So does he, and he can’t wait to replace it with a diamond one.

He kisses you again, and you melt into it. He’s so gentle, impossibly so, but despite the gentleness he’s still trapping you there. But trapped against him as he presses a kiss to your forehead and holds your hand in his isn’t such a bad place to be.

“God, I love you so much,” he whispers into your hair. “Mm, how much?” “To the sunflower fields and back.”

(a/n - the “silver band” is supposed to be a promise ring. I’ve always thought that he’d be the kind of guy who would buy you a promise ring.)

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu fluff

[jlf23tumble]

Top 10 Niche Interests

Fixations? Obsessions? This is incredibly hard because I have wayyyy too many niche interests, so instead of stressing about it, I tried to channel the 10 things that immediately speak to me and maybe aren't so obvious from what I post here, like how much I'm obsessed with wigs, doll furniture, incredibly specific blogs, all forms of clothing with pockets, swimming pools, whimsical bus stops, over-the-top bathrooms, etc. etc Instead, I opted for some specifics that feel a little more evergreen and long tailed, like, so LIFE-long tailed that it's tough to nail down when or how they became part of the national psyche. I thank @alienfuckeronmain​ for the initial tag, and I'm tagging her AGAIN for round two because I know she has a billion additional niche things, and she'll post them, and I'll scream because it'll trigger five other things I neglected to post here, and I'll probably post my own round two, arggggh, insert aggressive sighing. Anyway, I tag ANYONE who wants to do it, just tag me so I can see! 

1. Indoor Trees

I have no idea why this concept PULLS so hard because houseplants are kind of meh to me, but you want to plant an entire-ass TREE indoors, in the place where you live? Me, too, and I'd add a conversation pit plus a combo gold/red bathroom, among other things, and, bam, we're in my imaginary dream home, which I have literally, constantly ALWAYS mentally constructed from the time I was about six or so. (If you're curious, it has multiple themed rooms, and the closest I've seen to it recently is the outstanding Dita von Teese AD feature, but Amy Sedaris’s apartment comes close, too). There are two (2) 1960s houses in Long Beach with magnificent indoor trees, but I can't find them online, so have this modern interpretation and cry with me about how I can't visit the multi-story fake tree inside Clifton's Cafeteria for a good long while:

2. Conventions of Fans of Any Kind

One thing that I don't think I'll ever lose is how much I *love* people who are fans of SOMETHING, people who have a passion and create something about it or cosplay it or simply gather to celebrate it and connect to other people through it. The Internet provides in all kinds of ways, but I'm talking specifically about IRL conventions and the way my heart pitter pats when I first walk in those doors, SWOON! And it doesn’t matter how big the convention is or how random, I've been to smaller events like CatCon and the My Little Pony convention all the way up to biggies like WonderCon and Comic Con, and I have yet to be disappointed. I might know jack shit about what I'm walking into, but I want to see the merch, hear about the panels, and check out the people who are fucking PUMPED to be there. Sadly, I think it's gonna be a lonnnnng time until these come back, but I can live vicariously through my old photos, sigh:

3. Dutch Wax Fabrics and African Fashion

I'm not the snazziest of dressers, but textiles, colors, and patterns have been an obsession that has soothed my visual soul for as long as I can literally remember. Wax fabric marries all three of those touchpoints, plus throws in a healthy dose of style, and I count myself lucky to have seen two big exhibits on the subject (this was one of them), oh, how I wish there were more! For sure, there's a fucked up underlying colonial/imperialist history here, but there's also humor and color and vibrancy, a reclamation of sorts, and multiple levels of fashion that take my breath away. I cannot do the different patterns justice at all, but the fan motif is one of my faves:

4. Hearst Castle vs. Madonna inn

These two fall into my #home tag because they're where I'm from, and they speak to me as equally sublime and ridiculous, camp and kitsch writ large and small, different (yet similar!) versions of Xanadu that two rich white men built as shrines to their own personal "taste." And the irony is that a lot of people shit on Alex Madonna for being tacky (the Madonna Inn is...uh, something else), yet praise WR Hearst for all the high-class art and architecture, most of which is fully lifted from desperate churches between and after world and yet they're both more or less the same concept (lodging for weary travelers, self-aggrandizement, questionable taste-mixing). Hearst Castle edges out slightly for me because it's bigger and has spectacular scenery and history, plus it gives me doses of LA noir thanks to the way Hearst killed a guy in a jealous Charlie Chaplin-related rage and Hedda Hopper covered it up, all kinds of old Hollywood shenanigans happened up there, etc. But I'm low-key an expert on both houses of the holy, I'm OBSESSED with both, and we can leave it at that. I mean, come on:

5. Snow Globes

I had to cull my personal collection slightly just to fit it all on the dedicated shelf in my bathroom, and I seriously need to refill all the water lines, but nothing beats a snow globe in terms of memorable souvenir, especially when you put it in a bathroom. The majesty!!! The jewel of my collection is the one from Sherwood Forest because WHY NOT celebrate a historic place and moment in the basic way?? He robbed from the rich to give to the poor, and the gift shop about 100 feet from the tree he hid in does the same! The circle of life! The irony of all the watermarks on this blessed image...protect:

6. Highly Specific Museums

Look, we can all agree that the more venerated museums in the world are a form of garbage in terms of what they represent, what they've done, and who runs them, but I'm here for the museums that collect and celebrate things that tend to get overlooked. There are too many to list that I love that are still thriving, so I'm going to say goodbye to four recently departed faves. RIP to the Pez museum, I'm so glad I saw you and purchased your stale candy souvenirs. RIP to the museum of terrible food, you were a pop up when Phoenix and I saw you, and I will forever think about the worker describing people literally vomiting during their visits. RIP to the currywurst museum in Berlin, I've had currywurst exactly once and it was not for me, but I respect the Journey you took me on, including obscure east German TV shows that helped make you so popular (??). Finally, RIP to the velvet painting museum, there's no way to mince words, the person who owned you was crazy AS FUCK and had zero clue how to run a business, but I'm so glad I saw you multiple times and purchased my own velvet treasure (not this exact one, but remarkably similar):

7. Liminal Spaces: Grocery Store Edition

Confession time for those who don't know me all that well, I'm a big time voyeur, and nothing fills my heart with joy like a walk at 7 or 8 pm, the witching hour when people haven't pulled the curtains, and I can scope out their decorations/furnishings without it being "weird." Another confession is how much I unabashedly adore grocery stores in other countries and will spend at least an hour wandering aisle by aisle, falling in love with how much everything is different yet completely the same:

8. Agatha Christie Novels:

As a child, I was a fairly compliant reader--I had to read something for school? Okay! For my mom? Sounds good! But the books that sparked the initial fire for me to read something purely for myself were second-hand (probably fourth- or fifth-hand, judging by cover art) Agatha Christie short story anthologies, which were the gateway drug to full Agatha Christie novels, then other mystery novels, and so on. But getting back to Agatha, I obviously loved all the stories, but every decade spawned incredibly good cover art (like, exceptionally good), and this particular artist's are right up near the top for me (I go back and forth on a lot of the '50s and '60s ones):

9. Scopitones

I link my obsession with scopitones both to my love of music videos in general and a shop in Austin, TX, that sold DVD compilations of them in particular, but either way, they're underappreciated and kitschy all in one! Francoise Hardy and the rest of the ye-ye's are my forever girls for this medium, but seemingly every country cranked them out, both actual set videos and "live" performances? If you don't know what they are, scopitones were machines that played music videos in French cafes in the '60s (??), so it was sort of your proto-MTV way to see your faves sing and dance. Oh, Francoise...so moderne!!

10. Cover Songs

I have so much patience and love for cover songs of any stripe, the more genre-bending and/or surprising, the better! My only minor beef is the trend in slooooooooowing down songs to make a point, but even those ones have a special place in my heart if they're effective. Live Lounge feeds my hunger the best, but my meta fave for representing this concept is Pulp's Bad Cover Version, which was already lyrically INSPIRED, a song about bad cover versions in terms of relationships, but then they did a video that was a visual "bad" cover version, with actors lip synching over an audio "bad" cover version, and all of it just worked? The cover for the single is someone in the band as a boy, making his own bad cover version of a Bowie album cover, it's meta meta meta, and I love love love, here's the video, if you're curious. In the more sublime cover category, I'm absolutely addicted to all of Orville Peck's covers, I truly hope he officially releases them sometime soon, but I wholeheartedly support any artist who does it:

#tag games #niche interests #god i have a few

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Getting To Know The Cast Of Criminal Minds

As Criminal Minds rolls out its 15th and final season, the beloved cast gathers to discuss serial killers (what else?), special guest stars, and their millions of phenomenal fans in this exclusive interview. (x,x)

As Criminal Minds rolls out its 15th and final season, the beloved cast gathers to discuss serial killers (what else?), special guest stars, and their millions of phenomenal fans in this exclusive interview.

By David Hochman

The scene is quintessential Hollywood: a train station at dusk. Steam billowing up from the tracks. Loved ones bracing for their emotional farewells. What could be more fitting for the cast of Criminal Minds?

Chugging into its 15th and final season after more than 300 episodes, the police procedural is among the 10 longest-running dramas of all time, and in the top 20 for longest-running scripted television shows. "This is Gunsmoke and Guinness Book territory," says Matthew Gray Gubler, who has played quirky FBI brainiac Dr. Spencer Reid since episode 1.

To honor the landmark occasion, all eight series regulars are gathered at a railway museum in L.A.'s Griffith Park for photos, poignant reflections, and a few behind-the-scenes confessions (mostly involving a tradition called "hot tub wine machine"—stay tuned).

On TV, the tenacious profilers of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit—or simply "BAU" to fans—are a hard-bitten bunch, tracking down serial killers and other vicious "unsubs." But in person, clearly good friends across the board and decked out today in their spiffiest finery, the cast can scarcely hold back tears as they get candid about their extended journey together and what it means to come to the end—sniff, sniff—of Criminal Minds.

Originally published in Watch! Magazine, July-August 2019.

Judging from the misty eyes and group hugs, it looks like the series wrap-up is generating "all the feels," as they say. Are you able to get through scenes this season without a tissue break?

Joe Mantegna (Senior Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi, Seasons 3-present): This is my 50th year in show business, and next to voicing on The Simpsons, Rossi is my longest-running role. I came in with dark hair and now it's gray. I arrived without much of a game plan, and the show and character are now a deep part of who I am. This cast is a true family for me. So every episode this year has an added bittersweet layer. When the director announces, "This is the last profile scene" or "This is our last scene on the jet," you look around with a real sense of passing. It's monumental.

Kirsten Vangsness (BAU Technical Analyst and Media Liaison Penelope Garcia, Seasons 1-present): The term that keeps coming up is "ambiguous loss"—that feeling of losing something you love, and that everything's about to change. In this case it's not a person, thank goodness. But still, in the middle of a scene, it hits you. But you can't cry; you have all this makeup on. Plus, what are you crying for? It's been such an incredible experience. I will have done every single episode except episode 5, every episode of the first spinoff, and two episodes of the second spinoff. I love these people. No, sir. I'm not crying. You're crying. [Editor's note: She's crying.]

Paget Brewster (Supervisory Special Agent and BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, Seasons 2-7, 9, 11-present): Um, I'm in complete denial, so I'll break down into tears the week after we end, but not before. I'm pretending this show's never, ever going to end.

Without spoiling anything, what can you say about Season 15?

A.J. Cook (Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Seasons 1-present): Well, I can tell you that we will find out what happens now that JJ has expressed her true feelings for Dr. Reid.

Matthew Gray Gubler (Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, Seasons 1-present): Don't you mean "Jeid?" That's what the internet is calling us. Hey, I'm not spoiling anything. I mean, don't rule out, uh, "Jemily" or "Jarcia" this season, either!

Adam Rodriguez (Supervisory Special Agent Luke Alvez, Seasons 12-present): And we do have guest stars. We love guest stars! [Editor's note: Among others, watch for Jane Lynch to return as Reid's schizophrenic mother, and for Rachael Leigh Cook as a potential new love interest for Reid.]

Daniel Henney (Supervisory Special Agent Matt Simmons, Seasons 10, 12-present): Overall, I'd say 15 has more of an arc through the episodes than previous seasons. Our unsub, Chameleon, is played by Michael Mosley, and he's definitely into some gruesome, creepy stuff.

Brewster: Like, we have a scene where a bunch of body parts are hanging from a tree. Our prop guy, who's a professional fisherman in real life, was on top of a 15-foot ladder with a foot and an ear hanging off his fishing pole.

Aisha Tyler (Special Agent Dr. Tara Lewis and forensic psychologist, Seasons 11-present): And people wonder why my house in L.A. is like a fortress and I'm armed! I'd say it's a direct result of Criminal Minds. This show is definitely dark. I'm not going around profiling sociopaths and serial killers, but, yeah, being on Criminal Minds, you become more perceptive about people's bad behavior.

Anybody else find it hard letting go in real life after chasing serial killers at work all day?

Cook: I'm blessed with a good shut-off switch. Once the day's done, I can block everything out. But as soon as I became a mom, something shifted where the naive girl from Canada got the boot and mama bear arrived. We saw that happen with JJ on the show, too. When she became a mom, it was suddenly like, "Whoa, watch out for that guy in the park!"

Henney: I'll tell you a story. About two months ago, I'm at home sleeping and a burglar alarm goes off, and I literally switched into Simmons mode. All the training I'd done with the FBI guys and our tech advisers instantly came into play. I threw on black sweatpants. I was creeping around the perimeter of my house, FBI-style. I clocked all my points of ingress and egress. When you do so many episodes, basic instincts kick in.

Did you identify the unsub?

Henney: Nobody was there! It was a stupid, faulty window sensor.

Brewster: The show definitely sharpens your reactions to your surroundings. When you start the show, you have access to the FBI training manual, which, frankly, no civilian should ever see because the photographs are so grisly. You end up going through a period of hypervigilance where you can't go into a sandwich shop or airport without thinking, Uh-oh! I think that couple's going to end up in a domestic dispute tonight.

Group question: What's your standout memory from these many seasons?

Rodriguez: I jumped onto this flying carpet 12 seasons in, and my first scene was out in the middle of the desert, and we shot all night long. There was an old car that was supposed to be in the scene, but it broke down and they ended up rolling it into the shot, which was funny. But more than that, I remember how welcoming people were. I was the new guy, but I felt immediately at home.

Brewster: We watched your family grow, too, Adam. You had a kid. A.J. had two kids. I met my husband on set. We've been lucky enough to live our lives and develop together as people.

Cook: For me, having both my boys appear in the show was an absolute treasure. Mekhai, who's 10, has been doing it way longer than Phoenix, who's 4, and he loves it, though I can't tell if it's the acting or that everybody's giving him cookies and ice cream all the time.

Henney: I was really proud to play Simmons because, as an Asian American actor, you don't often get the chance to play the quintessential American guy's guy. He's married to a Caucasian woman and has mixed-race children—which is true with me, too [Henney is also of mixed descent]—and I loved representing that on television. To have a kissing scene with Kelly, my wife on the show—you weren't seeing that 10 years ago.

Tyler: Directing a couple episodes was an incredible opportunity. But for me, just the experience of seeing this through to the end is so rewarding. I was only supposed to do six episodes. Everything's been gravy since then.

Mantegna: Hands down, my highlight was being able to work in my passion for law enforcement and the military by making my FBI character a former Marine. That allowed me to bring in Meshach Taylor, one of my dearest, oldest friends, as my commanding officer in Vietnam, and directing two of the three episodes that involved him as a character.

That included the episode where his character died, because Meshach had died. To actually bury him on camera as my dear friend—I'm the godfather of his kids, and he's the godfather of mine—it was everything. If I do nothing else on television, doing that for Meshach to me means the top of the ladder.

TV shows come and go. How do you explain the enduring success of Criminal Minds?

Tyler: Well, I'd say it's not about prurient interest in the macabre. I think the reason people like the show is because we want to know that there's a smart, dedicated team of professionals out there working very hard to make sure that the rest of us stay safe. Even if we don't know who they are and we can't see them, it's comforting that people are sacrificing their personal lives and their relationships so that they can put evil people away.

Rodriguez: I meet young people all the time, teenagers, who love the show and say they love the game of it all—figuring out how these processes work and the skills that go into solving crimes. I think we've probably inspired a generation of people to go into this important work—on the good-guy side, not on the bad.

Cook: So many people have struggled in their lives, and they can relate to what they see on the show. Hardworking moms, people that have been abused, people who've experienced loss.

Vangsness: I think it comes down to a show with some of the greatest characters on television. Garcia is just a bundle of positive energy, and that resonated. Her desk is a living piece of art to how she's connected with the audience. I've got a papier-mâché heart pen a fan from France gave me. There's a little rabbit from a fan in Japan. A German woman knitted a Penelope doll that's sitting there. Oh, and Richard Simmons gave me a necklace one time because he loved the show!

Criminal Minds fans are a devoted bunch.

Henney: I once checked into a ski lodge in Switzerland and my television wasn't working, so I went to the front desk. The two desk guys started staring at me like zombies and pointed to their TV, where Criminal Minds was on, with me on the screen.

Brewster: It takes you by surprise in the weirdest places. You'll be in a bathroom at a movie theater and girls are outside whispering, That's Emily Prentiss, and they wait for you to finish so you can wash your hands and hug them.

What are you going to miss most about the show?

Cook: Um, everything. The scenes in the jet are my favorites because it's such a tight space that we forget we're on a TV show and just enjoy hanging out together. This show, for me, was a coming of age. You can look online and find me in the beginning of season 1 wearing this ridiculous pink pinstriped blazer that will haunt me forever. I look like I'm 12. But I've grown up along with JJ. [Tearing up.] I'll miss it all so much.

Gubler: Likewise, I really look up to Spencer Reid, and I feel so honored to have played him for so long. I will miss his long, you know, three-page monologues of technical jargon about protons or whatever. I'll miss the way he holds his hands like an ostrich foot when he's solving a problem. He's definitely way smarter than I'll ever be, but I like to think that some Dr. Reid qualities have imbued themselves into my own personality a little bit. If nothing else, I've adopted his ever-changing hairstyles.

Tyler: I'll miss being an FBI badass. I'd love to take the FBI jacket, but it's absolutely illegal to walk around wearing it.

Vangsness: I can tell you what I won't miss. Garcia's glasses—because I have them all already. I've bought every pair she's ever worn, so I have a collection of around 65 at home. They remind me to be confident like her, to see life through her eyes. Garcia is my Sasha Fierce.

Brewster: I will miss the hot tub wine machine.

Hot tub wine machine?

Vangsness: You heard that right, mister. It's an epic hot tub party at my house that the women on the show have turned into a standing gig—or more like a floating gig.

Brewster: It's basically a therapy and gossip and splashing-around session fueled by chardonnay and rosé.

Tyler: And it's ladies only because it gets kinda frisky.

Rodriguez: This is a sore subject for me even as a very securely and happily married man.

Mantegna: They do send us pictures on group text, which is thoughtful of them.

Vangsness: I don't think it's too much of a spoiler to tell you that this fine tradition makes it into our last episode. I co-wrote the finale, and we tried to cram in as many little Easter eggs and satisfying plot tie-ups as we could, both for fans and for each other. So within the episode, you'll see the BAU version of hot tub time machine. We worked really hard solving these super-intense crimes over what will be 325 episodes. After all these years, don't you think we deserve a little spa time?

#04.17.19 #april #2019 #cbs #facbook #s: original post #article #magazine spread #CBS Watch! Magazine #watch mag 2019 #Criminal Minds #cm cast #link in x #content source #Paget Brewster #aj cook #Aisha Tyler #kirsten vangsness #joe mantegna #Matthew Gray Gubler #daniel henney #Adam Rodriguez

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Howdy there! How are you?

Self

My name is James Home. I’m a 23 year old trans male from Olympia WA. In time zones that’s PST (Pacific standard time) am a visual artist, graphic designer, and storyteller. My Briggs acronym ENFJ. In saying so I’m a huge talker and communicator, physically and literally! Personal interests of mine include BOTW, FFXV, and Hanibal atm. I have a lovely and incredible wife named Isabella. We both additionally like DND (were even painting our minis), collecting Halloween decorations, and watching Avatar the last air bender with our roommate. Though I do have a history in plenty of other fandoms as well and always on the lookout for recommendations.

Preference

So for myself I love to take care of my Rp partners in all accommodations possible.

Meaning if your heart has been craving fluff, rough smut, or a plain ol hug. IM GAME! If none, no biggie let’s make a plot spot!

Roles I usually fall under are but not limited too….

-DOM , Vers, Power bottom

-caretaker, guardian, teacher

-father, handler, knight

-beefcakes, robots, selfless leaders

And so much more!

The roles I lean towards are

-caretaker, strong and silent-ish type, and flamboyant entertainers.

-male roles, trans male roles, open to trying a female role?, non binary, pangender role.

- I do enjoy topping, some aspects of BDSM, and some hard kinks.

-fallen leader, relearning about a loving world, hopeful in a dark world.

-not taking their role as important as they should have or are, “I’ve been doing this for years. But this is new”, and “I brought you your favorite drink wanna cuddle, I’ll provide the sugar?” Types

And so much more!

As far as story things themes are

-highly complex kingdoms

-High pace fantasy

-society by the ocean

-abandon green houses

-heavily dense forests

-fae and fiend worlds

-AUs of pre-existing universes from shows

-magic incorporated

-supernatural

Worlds we design collectively.

My HARD NOs are…

NO MINORS ROLEPLAYING WITH ME, 19 AND UNDER DO NOT APPLY

-abuse in active Rp (can be used from background and really has to depend on circumstance)

-harm of any children

-harm of expected mother

-any form of r*pe play

-blood play, degrading play, hard impact play

-crying kinks, humiliation kink, and electric play

-no smoking kinks either or character usage of substances.

Writing

I’m not too big on proper grammar or sentence structure as long as there was an idea getting across. I’m ok with role playing as many people as you’d like to actively work on, so doubles, and even triples are okay. Plus working two different stories is fun! I do prefer paragraphing and we all know the feeling of one word responses. This is a hobby and creative outlet from myself so that’s why I have no big stressors about punctuation or spelling.

Storytelling

Here are some story concepts I’ve come up with. Yet if you’d like to imply your own let’s talk about it!

Counterpart pathways

A magical filled fantasy realm where all is possible including the bad. One summer day a incubus/demon hybrid named Jona, father of three, learns someone has kidnapped all three of his boys! He's on the hunt for clues and finding them at all costs. Gathering the best crew possible of Moof the best wolf bounty hunter in all the realm, Bell the boys spider caretaker shapeshifter, and Glover the bull/bison hybrid the green alchemist, set off to find the children. Along the way by gathering clues they encounter obstacles and trials of skill and pursuit! Will they ever find the three octopus babies ? Will Jona have closure and put on a shirt? Will Bell ever stop stealing everything shiny? Will Moof grow more confident in his teammates? Will Glover not stop shaking and being such a wuss? Who will help this odd 4 on their epic abnormal quest?!

Puddles

A time traveler that gets stuck in between dimensions due to their powers temporarily weakened from the extensive work they've been doing end up meeting a stranger who takes them in. Not used to the timeline they shows up in, they have to knowledge of normal behavior. They must figure out a way to recharge their abilities but has not of the slightly clue as to what it causing them to have lost them in the first place. Is the person that's helping them good or evil? Who's side are they on? How will they figure them out? Why do they find the stranger oddly familiar?

When men become mortal

An alien/robot/human species that survives by using different masks/chips for various occasions. It's like buying different clothes but they adapt or transform the hoist for a month or less of another body/form/identity. The main character experiences a technical difficulty where their head socket cannot adapt to a new face for long and has to get it repaired. Though along the way he seems to find that not wearing a false identity they actually enjoy seeing the outside world with no expectation of appearance. The other is a identity artist, the one whom develops different faces and identity. He spends hours tweaking details of bodies and faces. He always has the nicest things because of his work and from important commissions and work for certain clients.They meet at a gallery that the artist is hoisting at a museum. The individuals there are decorated like some of the model pieces and others artist curators-part sellers. The faceless one decides to go to the museum to see what's or who's being showcased and since he has a little bit of extra money he saved up for the occasion. Everyone finds him interesting since he doesn't have an appearance, they think he's a model. Thus they send him to meet with the artist for the show. The artist doesn't know him at all. They find eachother very different but most parts similar. From their meeting the artist gets inspired by his original face. Coming to realize that even himself that he has given into the world he never wanted to.The two of them hit it off. Both dwelling into the matters of the "perfect" vessel. Asking the serious questions such as what makes a body, a face, a soul attractive? They go on for hours and it starts to inspire the artists work into his new resorted craftsmanship. The faceless impressed by the purposed questions and also work. The two of them grow closer resulted from talking so much about bodies and meaning. All the while testing out the new creations, body parts, and vessels capabilities. Not all though is good while the two develop this hoist. There's a villain at hand who one of the artist's main clients that goes unsuspected. They want to use the designs to create a vessel for the bad and wealth. Only to include to kill off all humans.The two of them hit it off. Both dwelling into the matters of the "perfect" vessel. Asking the serious questions such as what makes a body, a face, a soul attractive? They go on for hours and it starts to inspire the artists work into his new resorted craftsmanship. The faceless impressed by the purposed questions and also work. The two of them grow closer resulted from talking so much about bodies and meaning. All the while testing out the new creations, body parts, and vessels capabilities. Not all though is good while the two develop this hoist. There's a villain at hand who one of the artist's main clients that goes unsuspected. They want to use the designs to create a vessel for the bad and wealth. Only to include to kill off all humans. Thus forces the artist to reveal his true identity. A human being. Not a hologram. Plus he's not just an artist but a ex-con scientist from the labs that have bloomed into a internalized war. Faceless becomes confused and also hurt that the artist to mention this. Only for the two of them being followed. The artist informs the robot that the hybrids (the children of the robot-species, generations of offspring) are the real threat to society. The one who hoists and is in charge of the power sorce is human and machine. The first of its kind, and also the previous mentor of the artist/ex-scientist. Who will get to the power source first. Our main dynamic couple or the robotic uprising that believe all humans should cease to exist once and for all?

Gay Cryptids

Themes

Active night life

Next to the ocean, sea, body of water.

Beach city/lost boys/Mad max?/punk/ regal?/neon lights/old mascots/vapor wave af

Carnival / festivals

Dark market authenticity

Biker gang(s)

Aquatic features, art, incorporated in surroundings

Lifestyles like fish importing, dock workers, sushi shops, fancy diners

Common foods are all fish and sea foods

The city was a work in process for a resort city, and a major violent storm came too early taking out some of the fancier parts of the island. Most of the higher end houses and mansions were believed to be damaged in the outer edges of the island. There had been a castle built as a main part of the hotel/resort. Old costumes, sets, mascots were left to rot by the seas breeze. Barnacles, ivy, and vines with exotic flora and fauna growing wildly cover the buildings. Possibly even growing in the mansion and other houses. The main part of the biker gang is in a abandoned church next to the sea caves is where the biker gang mostly resides and work primarily as hit men and women. The island would be decided by the two head family of vampires one powerful family versus the other in over control if the current situation of resort in the actual tourist location.A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young. Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young. Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.

Plausible locations

Old mill

Carnival / freakshow

Rides and amusement

Abandoned Church

Greenhouse

Garden

Boat house

Log cabins

CAMP grounds

Old schools

Warehouses

The Docks or Port

Boat houses

Boat docks

Abandoned Hotel

Studios

Bike store

Surf or like diving store

Knickknack shack

Ma and Pa restaurants

Antique stores

Downtown

Library

Hospital or infirmary excotic masion

I have story plots for days SONNNN so these are at skim level for plot.

If you’d like to contact me the best ways are

Discord at

Agodnamedhome#4202

[email protected]

I work from 11:30 to 4 Monday-Friday

But available before, and after for sure.

Thursday’s at 5 are my therapist appointments

Weekends are 100% free atm

Looking for a long term, short term, a friend!

#long term rp #oc rp #mulitfandom rp #email #discord #writting #hobby #rp #roleplay #looking for an online friend #pacfic northwest #orginal content #submission

[agodnamedhome]

Howdy there! How are you?

Self

My name is James Home. I’m a 23 year old trans male from Olympia WA. In time zones that’s PST (Pacific standard time) am a visual artist, graphic designer, and storyteller. My Briggs acronym ENFJ. In saying so I’m a huge talker and communicator, physically and literally! Personal interests of mine include BOTW, FFXV, and Hanibal atm. I have a lovely and incredible wife named Isabella. We both additionally like DND (were even painting our minis), collecting Halloween decorations, and watching Avatar the last air bender with our roommate. Though I do have a history in plenty of other fandoms as well and always on the lookout for recommendations.

Preference

So for myself I love to take care of my Rp partners in all accommodations possible.

Meaning if your heart has been craving fluff, rough smut, or a plain ol hug. IM GAME! If none, no biggie let’s make a plot spot!

Roles I usually fall under are but not limited too….

-DOM , Vers, Power bottom

-caretaker, guardian, teacher

-father, handler, knight

-beefcakes, robots, selfless leaders

And so much more!

The roles I lean towards are

-caretaker, strong and silent-ish type, and flamboyant entertainers.

-male roles, trans male roles, open to trying a female role?, non binary, pangender role.

- I do enjoy topping, some aspects of BDSM, and some hard kinks.

-fallen leader, relearning about a loving world, hopeful in a dark world.

-not taking their role as important as they should have or are, “I’ve been doing this for years. But this is new”, and “I brought you your favorite drink wanna cuddle, I’ll provide the sugar?” Types

And so much more!

As far as story things themes are

-highly complex kingdoms

-High pace fantasy

-society by the ocean

-abandon green houses

-heavily dense forests

-fae and fiend worlds

-AUs of pre-existing universes from shows

-magic incorporated

-supernatural

Worlds we design collectively.

My HARD NOs are…

NO MINORS ROLEPLAYING WITH ME, 19 AND UNDER DO NOT APPLY

-abuse in active Rp (can be used from background and really has to depend on circumstance)

-harm of any children

-harm of expected mother

-any form of r*pe play

-blood play, degrading play, hard impact play

-crying kinks, humiliation kink, and electric play

-no smoking kinks either or character usage of substances.

Writing

I’m not too big on proper grammar or sentence structure as long as there was an idea getting across. I’m ok with role playing as many people as you’d like to actively work on, so doubles, and even triples are okay. Plus working two different stories is fun! I do prefer paragraphing and we all know the feeling of one word responses. This is a hobby and creative outlet from myself so that’s why I have no big stressors about punctuation or spelling.

Storytelling

Here are some story concepts I’ve come up with. Yet if you’d like to imply your own let’s talk about it!

Counterpart pathways

A magical filled fantasy realm where all is possible including the bad. One summer day a incubus/demon hybrid named Jona, father of three, learns someone has kidnapped all three of his boys! He's on the hunt for clues and finding them at all costs. Gathering the best crew possible of Moof the best wolf bounty hunter in all the realm, Bell the boys spider caretaker shapeshifter, and Glover the bull/bison hybrid the green alchemist, set off to find the children. Along the way by gathering clues they encounter obstacles and trials of skill and pursuit! Will they ever find the three octopus babies ? Will Jona have closure and put on a shirt? Will Bell ever stop stealing everything shiny? Will Moof grow more confident in his teammates? Will Glover not stop shaking and being such a wuss? Who will help this odd 4 on their epic abnormal quest?!

Puddles

A time traveler that gets stuck in between dimensions due to their powers temporarily weakened from the extensive work they've been doing end up meeting a stranger who takes them in. Not used to the timeline they shows up in, they have to knowledge of normal behavior. They must figure out a way to recharge their abilities but has not of the slightly clue as to what it causing them to have lost them in the first place. Is the person that's helping them good or evil? Who's side are they on? How will they figure them out? Why do they find the stranger oddly familiar?

When men become mortal

An alien/robot/human species that survives by using different masks/chips for various occasions.

It's like buying different clothes but they adapt or transform the hoist for a month or less of another body/form/identity.

The main character experiences a technical difficulty where their head socket cannot adapt to a new face for long and has to get it repaired. Though along the way he seems to find that not wearing a false identity they actually enjoy seeing the outside world with no expectation of appearance.

The other is a identity artist, the one whom develops different faces and identity. He spends hours tweaking details of bodies and faces. He always has the nicest things because of his work and from important commissions and work for certain clients.

They meet at a gallery that the artist is hoisting at a museum. The individuals there are decorated like some of the model pieces and others artist curators-part sellers.

The faceless one decides to go to the museum to see what's or who's being showcased and since he has a little bit of extra money he saved up for the occasion. Everyone finds him interesting since he doesn't have an appearance, they think he's a model. Thus they send him to meet with the artist for the show.

The artist doesn't know him at all. They find eachother very different but most parts similar. From their meeting the artist gets inspired by his original face. Coming to realize that even himself that he has given into the world he never wanted to.

The two of them hit it off. Both dwelling into the matters of the "perfect" vessel. Asking the serious questions such as what makes a body, a face, a soul attractive? They go on for hours and it starts to inspire the artists work into his new resorted craftsmanship. The faceless impressed by the purposed questions and also work. The two of them grow closer resulted from talking so much about bodies and meaning. All the while testing out the new creations, body parts, and vessels capabilities.

Not all though is good while the two develop this hoist. There's a villain at hand who one of the artist's main clients that goes unsuspected. They want to use the designs to create a vessel for the bad and wealth. Only to include to kill off all humans.

The two of them hit it off. Both dwelling into the matters of the "perfect" vessel. Asking the serious questions such as what makes a body, a face, a soul attractive? They go on for hours and it starts to inspire the artists work into his new resorted craftsmanship. The faceless impressed by the purposed questions and also work. The two of them grow closer resulted from talking so much about bodies and meaning. All the while testing out the new creations, body parts, and vessels capabilities.

Not all though is good while the two develop this hoist. There's a villain at hand who one of the artist's main clients that goes unsuspected. They want to use the designs to create a vessel for the bad and wealth. Only to include to kill off all humans.

Thus forces the artist to reveal his true identity. A human being. Not a hologram. Plus he's not just an artist but a ex-con scientist from the labs that have bloomed into a internalized war. Faceless becomes confused and also hurt that the artist to mention this. Only for the two of them being followed.

The artist informs the robot that the hybrids (the children of the robot-species, generations of offspring) are the real threat to society. The one who hoists and is in charge of the power sorce is human and machine. The first of its kind, and also the previous mentor of the artist/ex-scientist.

Who will get to the power source first. Our main dynamic couple or the robotic uprising that believe all humans should cease to exist once and for all?

Gay Cryptids

Themes

Active night life

Next to the ocean, sea, body of water.

Beach city/lost boys/Mad max?/punk/ regal?/neon lights/old mascots/vapor wave af

Carnival / festivals

Dark market authenticity

Biker gang(s)

Aquatic features, art, incorporated in surroundings

Lifestyles like fish importing, dock workers, sushi shops, fancy diners

Common foods are all fish and sea foods

The city was a work in process for a resort city, and a major violent storm came too early taking out some of the fancier parts of the island. Most of the higher end houses and mansions were believed to be damaged in the outer edges of the island. There had been a castle built as a main part of the hotel/resort. Old costumes, sets, mascots were left to rot by the seas breeze. Barnacles, ivy, and vines with exotic flora and fauna growing wildly cover the buildings. Possibly even growing in the mansion and other houses. The main part of the biker gang is in a abandoned church next to the sea caves is where the biker gang mostly resides and work primarily as hit men and women. The island would be decided by the two head family of vampires one powerful family versus the other in over control if the current situation of resort in the actual tourist location.

A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young.

Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.

A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young.

Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.

Plausible locations

Old mill

Carnival / freakshow

Rides and amusement

Abandoned Church

Greenhouse

Garden

Boat house

Log cabins

CAMP grounds

Old schools

Warehouses

The Docks or Port

Boat houses

Boat docks

Abandoned Hotel

Studios

Bike store

Surf or like diving store

Knickknack shack

Ma and Pa restaurants

Antique stores

Downtown

Library

Hospital or infirmary excotic masion

I have story plots for days SONNNN so these are at skim level for plot.

If you’d like to contact me the best ways are

Discord at

Agodnamedhome#4202

[email protected]

I work from 11:30 to 4 Monday-Friday

But available before, and after for sure.

Thursday’s at 5 are my therapist appointments

Weekends are 100% free atm

Looking for a long term, short term, a friend!

#rp #rp partner search #rp search #oc rp #orginal content #writting #fantasy #smut #fun #art #self promte

[reciprocityfic]

a slight return home, chapter 8

Title: A Slight Return Home Fandom: The Walking Dead Pairing: Rick x Michonne Rating: T Summary: Rick’s death shakes Michonne’s world to its core. With her daughter and her remaining family, she tries to navigate her changed life, and all the struggles and surprises that come with it.

Author’s Note: Hello there! Sorry it took me so long to get this update out - I've had writer's block hardcore for months. 

But I'm back, and hopefully I can get the next chapter out much more quickly.I mainly listened to Heavy in Your Arms by Florence + the Machine while I wrote this, and that's where the title comes from. I also listened to Older Chests by Damien Rice while writing the last section a little.

I hope you enjoy chapter eight!

read chapter one on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter two on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter three on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter four on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter five on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter six on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter seven on tumblr, archive of our own or ff.net read chapter eight on archive of our own or ff.net

(my love’s so) heavy in your arms

She brings him home one week later, once Siddiq is convinced he doesn't have any pressing medical needs, and after he's gained some weight. She can tell Rick is restless and eager to leave, even though he has his doubts to what his life will be like from now on.

She tries to reassure him, to tell him they'll get through this like they get through everything, but she can sense his skepticism. And she can't deny the tingling of anxiety that stirs in her stomach when he's sleeping and she's watching him. When she's alone with her thoughts, when her mind drifts and she wonders what they did to him, where he is now. She knows that he's here, in front of her, but she wonders where his soul, his spirit, his heart - where her Rick - is. How deep he had to bury them in order to survive.

But she shoves those concerns down deep the moment his eyes flutter open, and puts all her energy into him. Into bringing him back to her. Into bringing him home.

Today, she takes another step. They do, together, both literally and metaphorically as they walk up the path to what used to be their house. She supposes it still is their house; his presence is permanently burned into every corner of the building, leaving an invisible trail of ashes and cinders in its wake. She did nothing to erase it while he was gone. Instead, she'd preserved it, like a precious piece of art in a museum.

She hears his steady shuffling behind her as they walk up the steps to the front door. She reaches out for the doorknob, but he clears his throat before she can turn it, and she pauses, looking back at him. His head is down, and he's twisting the toe of his boot into the cement.

"The ki-" he stops, and clears his throat once more. Then, he continues, his voice hesitant.

"The kids?"

"They're at Aaron's," she tells him. "I thought that would be best until we get you settled in."

He nods, and she doesn't miss the way his shoulders relax just so slightly after hearing this new information. Her heart breaks, for him and for her family.

She's about to turn back around, when suddenly a memory comes back to her. Like a movie, it plays in her head: a heavily-bearded Rick, nervous and grumpy and out-of-place, staring at the gates of an unknown community, hesitant to enter and start this new chapter of their lives.

She remembers sitting next to him in that car, looking over at him, picking up on the skepticism and uncertainty rolling off of him in waves. She'd wanted to comfort him. To let him know that whatever happened - good or bad - they were in it together.

So she'd covered her hand with his - a rare physical expression of affection between them, at the time - and asked him a simple question.

You ready?

She reaches out now, does the same thing a little differently this time. She takes his hand and wraps it in hers. He tries to pull away at first, but she doesn't let him, and after a moment she feels his fingers relax between hers.

He lifts his chin and looks up at her, and she smiles slightly.

"You ready?" she asks.

He stares at her blankly for a second before she sees the corner of his mouth tick up, and he shakes his head as something almost like a laugh leaves his mouth. He remembers, too, and it makes the smile on her face grow.

He nods, and quietly says, "Yeah."

She grins again. It's the same answer he gave all those years ago.

She turns back around, but doesn't let go of his hand. Instead, she uses her grip on him to pull him a few steps closer to her. Then she reaches for the doorknob, and welcomes him home.

***

She watches him as he makes his way around the house.

She keeps herself a handful of steps behind him, careful not to interfere with his reacquaintance to what will be his home, once again. What will be their home again, finally.

He doesn't say much as he walks and wanders. A mumble, here and there, like he's talking to himself. Nothing she can make out. He reaches out every so often, runs his hand over a wall, or brushes his fingertips along a countertop. As if to ground himself in something physical.

He hesitates at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, then starts up them slowly. She follows. The creak of the steps under their feet seems to boom in the otherwise silent house.

When they reach the top floor, he motions to Judith's room.

"Still Judy?"

"Yeah," she confirms, taking initiative and moving in front of him. "You want to see it?"

He nods, and she pushes the door open. He steps around her and into the center of the bedroom, placing his hands on his hips as he glances around.

"It's a lot less...pink than I remember it being."

She can't help the smile that breaks out on her face.

"Yeah, she kind of phased out of that," she tells him.

"Not a little girl anymore, huh?" he asks as he turns to her. She knows he's trying to joke, but she doesn't miss the apprehension in his eyes.

"Not as little," she clarifies, "but still little enough. Littler than she likes to think she is."

"How?" he asks immediately, eagerly.

Michonne wracks her brain, and smiles again when she decides on an answer.

"She loves horses. Lowkey freaks out whenever she's around one. She's always asking to feed them or take care of them, which I'm pretty sure is just an excuse for her to pet them. She's absolutely enamored with them. Just like every little girl ever, right?"

"Right," he answers quietly, and she can see the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

He lingers for a few moments before turning towards the doorway. She starts towards the next room after they exit, but he doesn't move from his spot. When she turns to check on him, he's staring past her, mesmerized by something across the hall. She follows his gaze, and her heart thumps heavier in her chest when she sees what has his attention.

Carl's old room.

"It's RJ's room now," she tells him, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

(He stiffens, but she barely notices anymore - she expects it, rather. But she's persistent, keeps touching him, swearing that she'll teach him the feel of loving touches again.)

After Carl had died, they hadn't touched anything in his bedroom. They couldn't bear to. Instead, they left everything as it was, almost as a shrine to their lost son. The world might've taken him from them, but they would protect the memory of him in any way they could. So they kept it, preserved it, in honor of Carl and their love for him.

They had only packed it up when they decided to switch houses, and when they were arranging their new home, they'd decided to place all of his things in the room across the hall from Judith's - just where Carl's room was in their first house. They'd even taken to calling it Carl's room again, making sure that all of them - especially Judith - knew that the boy was still an integral part of their family, even though he wasn't here anymore.

She hesitated, when she was pregnant and deciding on where to put RJ's crib, to finally move the boxes and bins full of Carl's things. But it brought her a kind of comfort, filling the room with new life, and she knew deep in her heart that Carl would approve completely.

So she'd moved it. And it had healed her bit by bit, watching her youngest son grow up where his older brother had been represented.

She hopes that it will bring Rick the same sense of healing and comfort.

But as she goes to lead him there, he doesn't follow. When she looks back at him, she can't read the expression on his face.

"Don't you want to see it?" she asks, her brow furrowing.

"Maybe - " Rick starts, taking a step back and dropping his gaze to the floor. He brings one of his hands up to his face and scratches across his forehead with his thumb. "Maybe I should meet him first."

His answer surprises her, wholly and genuinely, more than anything else he has said since she found him again. If there was one thing sure in her mind, it was that Rick would be more than impatient to see his children again. To meet his son. To know everything he could about RJ - every detail, no matter how minute or mundane.

But after his tears when she first told Rick of RJ's existence, and his trepidation now, dread begins to gather in the pit of her stomach. She buries it the best she can, and moves on.

Their room is the only one left. She starts towards it, and is relieved when she hears the groan of the floorboards behind her as he follows. She enters and goes to stand at the foot of the bed, before turning around and looking at him.

He still stands in the doorway, shifting back and forth on his feet but otherwise staying in place. She almost says something, almost reaches out her arm to beckon him inside, but she stops herself. They must do this at his pace.

So she waits for him. She waits for him, and she reminds herself that she will always wait for him, no matter the situation, and no matter how much it confuses her.

After a moment, Rick closes his eyes and takes three deep breaths. Then, he steps over the threshold.

They don't speak, just as they didn't when he first entered the house. She simply observes as he walks around the room, inspecting windows and walls and nightstands.

It's when he opens the door to the closet that she hears his voice for the first time since he came into the bedroom.

"All my stuff is still here," he mumbles.

She guesses that he's only talking to himself again, so she doesn't respond. But then he turns to her, his head tilted to the side as he peers at her curiously.

"All my stuff is still here," he repeats, and she can tell he's surprised by the fact.

"It is," she answers, and she reaches over idly to the dresser, pulling open the second drawer from the top and reaching in to run her fingers over his socks.

"Why is it still here?" he asks, so entirely surprised that she almost cries.

"It's yours," she tells him plainly, because the answers she's about to give are obvious, at least in her eyes. "I didn't want it to belong to anyone else. And I missed you. I didn't want to lose you. Especially in here."

It's the same reason they left Carl's room untouched for such a long time, she wants to tell him. But she doesn't want to bring up the odd moment in the hall again, so instead she takes a step towards him, and brings her hand up to touch him, placing her fingers on the front of his shirt and playing with the buttons there.

"I just...I missed you."

She can feel the telltale pressure of tears behind her eyes, and she tries to steady herself, tries to swallow them down.

"I missed you so much," she says, her voice breaking.

And despite her efforts, a tear falls from the corner of her eye and down her cheek. She goes to pull away from him - she doesn't want to confound his feelings by burdening him with her own - but before she can, he grabs onto the hand resting on the front of his shirt.

A shock runs through her. It's one of only a handful of times he's initiated touch with her since she's got him back. She turns to him once more, her eyes wide and shining, still full of unshed tears. He brings his hand up to cup her cheek, and his thumb rubs at the moisture staining her skin.

"I missed you," he murmurs, and he takes a step closer to her as he stares down at her like she's the only thing in the universe that exists in this moment.

She wants to kiss him.

She wants to lean up and kiss him, to lose herself in the movements of his lips and tongue, to lace her fingers through his curly hair, to feel every plane of his body pressed against hers for the first time in almost seven years. She's afraid, though - afraid that she'll startle him, that he'll pull away, that he'll not want her as much as she wants him.

But then, she sees his blue eyes dart towards her lips for the tiniest second, and she lets it decide her.

She closes her eyes and nearly throws herself at him in her eagerness, but her lips don't get the chance to even brush against his before he steps back. Her eyes pop open with a start, but she can't halt her momentum in time, and stumbles into him, knocking him back against the wall beside the closet.

She jumps back as soon as she can gather herself. They stare at each other, Rick's back still against the wall, his hands at his sides and palms turned up in a helpless gesture.

She brings her hand up to cover her mouth, and she can feel her skin heat up and eyes begin to sting with more tears. She doesn't think she's ever been more mortified.

She doesn't think she's ever been this scared.

"Michonne," Rick breathes.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, and then rushes into the bathroom and locks the door behind her.

She can't hold back her tears once she's alone, and they run down her face in torrents as she leans against the sink. She turns on the water quickly to try and drown out the sound of her sobs. Then, she lifts her head, and looks into the mirror.

She lets out a short, barking laugh through her cries as she stares at her reflection. She looks decidedly miserable - eyes red and puffy with bags underneath them, hair mussed, skin glistening with tears, clothes disheveled. She laughs once more, then sobs again, and slowly lowers herself onto the floor. Once seated, she pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her forehead on them.

A knock at the door makes her jump. She looks towards it, but makes no move to answer.

"Michonne?"

His voice is muffled by the door and by the sound of the water still rushing from the spout in the sink, but she hears it still.

"'Chonne, I'm sorry."

His words only make more of her tears fall, and she turns back into herself, resting her head on her knees again.

"I'm sorry," she hears. He sounds defeated.

And she's so scared.

***

Coming home is hard.

It's emotional and physical labor, and it takes its toll on her. She doesn't eat enough, she goes to bed exhausted and wakes up even more tired. She cries most days, in hidden corners where no one will see or notice her.

After the incident in their bedroom, he retreats inside himself. He stops telling her anything about his time away from her; he stops talking to her at all, save for necessary sentences and tiny asides here and there. He sleeps on the couch, rather than in their bed. He stops touching her at all. He stops being him to the point that it feels like he's gone again, even though he's right there beside her.

It saddens her endlessly. It frustrates her. And she feels like it's all her fault, because she was the idiot who couldn't control herself or her emotions, who had to try to kiss him and then proceeded to have a breakdown in front of him, to the point that he had to threaten to go get Judith to coax her out of hiding.

But above all, it scares her. It scares her into thinking that she'll never be able to find him - to bring him out of all the hurt and pain that's been heaped upon him. She's afraid he's not him anymore, that the Rick she loves died years ago at the community where he was held hostage, in some dark, dank room like the one in which she found him.

She's afraid, and she's never felt more alone. Before she knows it, she's retreated inside herself as well. She stops trying to pull him out. She quits asking prying questions to try and get him to speak, she doesn't reach for him anymore. She lets him be, and the two of them dance around each other like complete strangers forced to live in the same house.

They try to act normally around the kids. He tries, and she gives him credit for that, because she can see how hard it is for him. Especially when RJ shirks away from Rick the first time the two meet, looking up at his mother with nervous eyes as he's confronted with the strange man in front of him. Even after she and Judith explain that this is his dad - the brave man they told him about in all of their stories - RJ is still suspicious, and clings to Michonne's leg when Rick reaches out. Judith does better, hugging him without hesitation and welcoming him back into their little family unit, but Michonne can see the apprehension in her eyes when she takes in his frailness, his bruises and scars, his skittishness.

They try to act normally, but neither Rick nor Michonne can succeed entirely. RJ is young enough that he's mostly oblivious to anything other than his uneasiness around this new person, but it has no chance of getting past Judith. Her daughter asks her as much one afternoon when they're out practicing with their katanas, questions why her mother and father are acting so "weird" around each other.

"He's home now. Shouldn't you guys be happy?" she asks innocently.

Michonne smiles sadly at the girl, a deep, shaky breath leaving her lungs as she forces herself not to cry.

"Sometimes, things aren't quite that simple."

She wishes they were. God, she wishes they were.

But they're not. They're not simple, and they're not easy.

It's hard. Coming home is hard.

It isn't what everyone makes it out to be. All happy and smiley. Frantic kisses that taste like happy tears, embraces that still have the shape of the other's body memorized. Parties and parades. Sweetness and sex and safety. Reunions and romance. Joy. So much joy.

Coming home is hard.

It's not knowing what to say to the person she used to tell everything to. It's hearing him lock himself in the downstairs bathroom every night after the kids go to bed like clockwork and cry for hours on end, and not making any move to comfort him because she doesn't know if that would make it worse or if he even wants her to. It's looking into his eyes - eyes she used to know so well - and finding them dull and bloodshot and empty. It's looking at the man who was the other half of her soul and wondering if she knows him anymore. It's the fear that she'll never know him again.

Coming home is hard. And time passes, with nothing.

A/N: Sorry for all the angst :/  I hope you liked it anyways.

Like I said, I hope to be out with the next update much sooner than I was with this one.

xoxo, Rebekah

#richonne #the walking dead #richonnejustdesserts #richonne writing network #richonne fic #richonne fanfiction #twd fanfiction #asrh

[eyoricka]

fluffy ABC Theseus

A = Attractive: what do they find attractive about the other?

He loved your eyes. the color of them was so beautiful to him and was certainly the first thing he noticed when he saw you. he loved the sparkles in them when you laughed, smile or had an idea in your mind. They would bright with mischief sometimes and even if he knew that it meant troubles he adored it. he could literally read your soul through your eyes and that was probably why he loved them so much.

B = Baby: do they want a family? why/why not?

Theseus wanted a huge family, he was so excited at the idea of kids running all around the house. he wished to have girls because he grew up in a world of men, he only had a brother and, in his work, there were mostly men so he would adore to have little princesses. But he also wanted to have boys because he knew that he would love to have a strong bound with them.

C = Cuddle: how do they cuddle?

Theseus was a hugger so he just loved to cuddle, he would find any excuse to cuddle with you and that could be funny. He would be so cute when he pouted because you didn’t have time to embrace him or broke the embrace rapidly. Sometime when you were cooking or else, he would wrap his arms round you and hugged you tightly. Then he would kiss your neck and you would turn yourself to bury yourself in his chest. you would remain there a while until you had to break the embrace because the food was burning or else… Even if he was a protective man, Theseus was the little spoon. He liked to feel your small body protecting him.

 D = Dates: what are dates with them like?

Since he was working a lot you practically never went on date during the week. However he would keep his Sundays just for you. sometime you would stay home cuddling while reading and telling each other work gossips, some other time you would go to a café or during summer apparat on the Brighton beach. Nonetheless when he wanted to surprise he would take you on a date during the week and he would apparat you somewhere in the United Kingdom to stargaze and eat a pick nick.

E = Everything: “you are my ____” (e.g my life, my world…)

You are my Lumos because you are the one who guide him through the dark time, you are like his lighthouse. He would always ask to be by his sides when he was stressed or sad or when he was living bad moments like he would cast a Lumos in a dull house to remind himself that he was safe.

F = Feelings: when did they know they were falling in love?

Theseus certainly realized it during his last year at Hogwarts. Anytime the professors would ask him to imagine his future he couldn’t help but include you. He imagined you as his trusting girlfriend, the one he would recount his day as auror, the one who would encourage him to follow that dangerous path… However you were already dating someone else and he just thought that it was a teen illusion of what love is and when he would end Hogwarts he would forget you. the thing is he didn’t, even months after the graduation you were still haunting his mind. He was trying to convince himself that the only reason was that he hadn’t meet anybody else but deep down he knew the truth. So when he met you on Diagon Alley it was like a sign to him, even more when during the discussion you admitted that you had broken up with your boyfriend. He decided to gather his courage ad invited you to grab a coffee with him and since that day he never let you go.

G = Gentle: are they gentle? If so, how?

Theseus was very gentle with you, very patient and protective. He wasn’t a fan of big gesture he preferred everyday act of kindness with you to show you that he didn’t love you just on special occasion but every day.  After work he would usually stop by the bakery and bought you a cake, he would compliment you whenever he could, he would take care of the garden since you loved flowers and plants, snap cute photos of you…

H = Hand/Hold: how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

When you came at his work to visit him he would always hold you hand to show everyone around that they should not flirt or mess with you. in private he liked to feel your palm on his, he just loved holding your hand while cuddling. He would caress your knuckles with his thumbs and gently brought your hand to his lips just peck it till you giggle.

I = Impression: first impression/s

The first time he saw you, you were both eleven and entering in Hogwarts. You met during the sorting ceremony and Theseus hoped that he would become your friend because you seemed really fun, adventurous but also a good listener and a nice person. However he never expected to grow so attach to you and to have feelings for you.

J = Joker: are they into pulling pranks?

He is clearly not a prankster. He did necessarily said a lot of jokes either. But he sure loved to laugh and when something funny had happened he would immediately told you with really accurate and funny impressions. He was surprisingly really good at them and sometimes just to see your smile or hear your laugh he would do them until you crying of laughter.

K = Kisses: how do they kiss?

It depended on his mood. When he wanted to show that you were his girlfriend and entirely his he would kiss you with love and passion. He would literally make out with you like a teenager. After stressful days he would peck your lips until he saw you smile again.  When you were together, he would often kiss you softly just to show you that he cared.

 L = Love: who says I love you first?

he was the first one to say it and actually he even said it before you were dating. He had invited you to a party with some mates of your Hogwarts time. during the party you chatted with everybody and didn’t spend a lot of time with Theseus. This latter enjoyed the company of his friends and drunk with them probably more than necessary. When you were leaving you noticed his drunk state and you smiled never expecting to see him like that one day. You hugged him to tell him goodbye and he pouted saying that he didn’t want you to leave. You replied that you had to and he practically begged you to help him to go back to his flat. You nodded and as you apparated in front of his door and helped him to go inside. As you were walking out he grabbed your wrist. He put his hand on your cheek and mumble inaudible things and you tried to understand but you didn’t. suddenly he spoke louder and said “please stay tonight I don’t want you to leave actually I never want you to leave again because I love you and I’ve always had since our seventh year.” You were taken aback but agreed to stay and slept on the couch. the following morning when you took the breakfast with him there was an awkward silent but he eventually broke it “I meant it Y/N, what I said last night I mean it, I never plan to say it so soon but drunk me wasn’t aware of that. sorry for that and if you don’t want to see me again I can understand” You gently smiled at him and replied “Don’t apologize that was rather cute and I would love to go to more dates with you and I mean sober you”

M = Memory their favourite moment together

After a mission outside of the United Kingdom he caught a cold and was sick. You took care of him and spoiled him, literally doing everything he wanted, you event took your days off to be sure that you were always there if he needed something. That was adorable but the thing is you ended sick just when he was better and took care of you just like you did with him. that was a cute memory and even if he never wanted to live that sickness, he cherished that days he spent with you.

N = Nickel do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

You had a real sweet tooth and he would spoil you with sweet food. He would manage to have all the cupboards full of cookies, candies, cocoa powder, milk, chocolate bars… For a lot of people that was a bit strange and childish but you loved it, you thought that this cute daily gesture was far more lovely that receiving a gold necklace (even if you wouldn’t say no to that either). Moreover since Theseus loved your perfume he was the one who always bought it for you.

O = Orange what colour reminds them of their other half

The color of your Hogwarts house. Since you both met the first time at the school he saw you all that years wearing the color of your house and he still liked when you were wearing outfits of that color. First it was a really nice color on you and then it reminds him the good old time and he couldn’t help the smile.

P = Petnames what pet names do they use?

He wasn’t much a fan of pet names actually most of the time he would call you by your name or nickname and it was an habit since Hogwarts for him to call you by your family name. sometime during romantic moments or when he felt like it he would call you by really cheesy pet names like honey bun, little dove or muffin.

Q = Quaint what is their favourite non-modern thing?

Theseus was obsessed with antic statues. The first you both talked about it, you refrained your laugh, you never saw him so enthusiastic, he was talking really fast and talking with his hands.  But then you understood why he liked those statues so much, to him they were so well designed, so perfect. They were telling a story and you could understand a society just by looking at them. he would always drag you to the Antiquity museum of each cities where you would stay and he would spend a huge amount of time looking at the statues and trying to sketch them even if he wasn’t so good at drawing.  Once again you didn’t really mind, that was a quirk that gave charm to his personality, but you had to stop him whenever he wanted to buy one to decorate your house arguing that it would take too much space. He would pout a bit before admitting that you were right.

R = Rainy Day what do they like to do on a rainy day?

he hated rain and he was unlucky since he didn’t live in a sunny country. So he would be grumpy all the day, he would complain a lot. Actually the only things he liked about rain was seeing you admired it falling through the window. Just that would lighten his day. So even if he would never admit it aloud he was looking forward the rainy day just to see your gleeful face.

S = Sad how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Drinking a hot chocolate with a cake you would have baked in the muggle way would cheer him up. you would play with his hair while he was drinking and eating. You would tell him how amazing he was, how brave, how perfect… then you would listen to why he was so down and forced him to think positive and find a way to resolve his problems.

Theseus was always a bit panicked when you were sad so he would do everything and anything to cheer you up. he would always do different things like cuddle you, massage you, write you adorable notes, plan creative project together, make you dinner, offer you flowers…

T = Talking what do they love to talk about?

He liked to talk about his job with you because even if you didn’t wok in that field he thought that you were a good advisor. You always took your time to analyze the situation, thinking about the pros and cons and gave him the best advices. He also talked a lot about your shared time in Hogwarts, even if you two weren’t dating at that time you were close and you had spent an amazing time with him. however the thing he loved the most was to hear you recount your day with vivid details and an excited grin on your face when you were describing the things you enjoyed.

U = Unencumbered What helps them relax?

After a rather stressful day Theseus loved taking a good bath and it was even better whenever you would join him. if he was really stressed, he would also try to apply the meditation tips you gave him and controlled his breath. He had even insisted on having a Zen zone inside of the aurors department to be sure that his colleagues would have a way to relax at work and even if the minister was skeptic at first, the room dedicated at relaxation was a massive success and aurors were much more efficient.

V = Vaunt what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Theseus is really proud of his career and since he was so young but had such a respectable position you could totally understand. He worked so hard for that and took a lot of risks so you didn’t mind when he would brag about that. even if he would not publicly admit it, he was really proud of his brother. He would always tell you that his little brother was a fair man, truly courageous and who believed in what was right and lived of his passion.

W = Wedding when, how, where do they propose?

Every year you would insist that Theseus took two weeks of vacation to relax and not think about work. It was a sort of tradition, at the beginning of your relationship he was pretty hesitant but now he was looking forward to these two weeks of pure bliss and happiness during spring. One year you were both enjoying your vacation, but he seemed still a bit tensed. you thought that the case he was working on was certainly important but you were wrong. One night after a nice dinner you walked hand in hand to your bedroom and Theseus was clearly a nervous wreck even if he denied it. when you were back in the hotel room he took a deep breath and put a knee on the floor and proposed you. your eyes grew wide and you screamed excitingly “yes, yes, yes and thousand of yes” and you ran to his arms to kiss him.

X = Xylophone What’s their song?

Magic works by the weird sisters

Y = You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You are the jam and clotted cream to my scone. Theseus was English after all no nothing was more sacred to him than tea time with some scones. But to him a scone without jam and clotted cream was dry and not so good just like his life without you. You completed him, gave a meaning to his life, fulfilling it and he never felt so happy than by your side.

Z = Zebra: if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

Of course Theseus loved animals, beasts and everything that was living. He wasn’t much of a surprise since his mom took care of hippogriffs and his brother was a magizoologist. So he didn’t mind having animals around and if you wanted one he would get one and took an extra care of it.

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander imagines #theseus x reader #callum turner #fantastic beats and where to find them #crimes of grindlewald spoilers

[sunarocks]

Thirty Questions!

From http://otp-imagines-cult.tumblr.com/post/132479890037/otp-questions

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Lee. He took a serious amount of A-ranked missions and used almost all of his money to support Gaara's hobby in cultivating cacti. Gaara sure had money to spare but since he was a Kage, he was extremely careful to use them for his personal stuff. Also, Lee had no hobby- (jumping side to side is NOT a hobby, Lee.)

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap? Lee. Gaara once tried to sleep on Lee's lap but he found his tights are all MUSCLES, they hurt his neck and shoulder. Gaara would prefer Lee's torso, though. His chest, especially.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes? Lee would roam around the house with a towel or blanket and Gaara would slap the shit out of him using his sand fight me.

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway? Lee would tell Gaara to sleep right away but Gaara, being an ex-vessel of Shukaku, couldn't help his continuous insomnia. He might let Lee sleep first, he would read some books while Lee hugged his waist. (DOMESTIC FLUFF ALERT ME DEAD)

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies? Gaara thought that baking had the same difficulties as gardening but he was wrong. Lee, had he lived alone for a long time, knew how to cook so he would be the one to offer some help. I could imagine he patted Gaara's head and the Kage was sulking lmao.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”? Lee would yell with extreme enthusiasm and Gaara was being all dense. It was canon that Gaara was a DEADPAN when it came to romance. He didn't even notice Temari's relationship with Shikamaru, BUT KANKURO DID.

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes? Gaara. I assumed that Lee didn't wear his signature green spandex when he was at home. Maybe a pair of matching pajamas or a simple t-shirt, but Gaara would prefer wearing Lee's instead of his own. Especially when Lee was away on a mission because of yea right, Gaara, you didn't miss him. Also, we don't want to see Lee in the mesh clothing. It'd screw you.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?” Lee, OF COURSE. And Gaara being Gaara, he would tell Lee a countless time not to forget anything on his list. Lee could be dumb, sometimes, and Gaara wasn't famous for his patience.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions? OMG COLLEGE AU /no Lee would do the driving and Gaara would read the maps. Gaara didn't trust Lee for doing things required some brains. (sorry, Lee.) Also, it was in his blood for being sassy, bossy, and to order someone else around. Lee was happy with that, though.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws? None. (...) Both of them are not that artistic type. Maybe Sai would draw them together.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips? ISN'T IT OBVIOUS. Lee was the executor. He would do all the dirty jobs since he mastered hand-to-hand-combat and Gaara was waiting in the car, munching on cooked gizzard, as he was the mastermind behind the robbery. He has done enough.

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking. This is funny because Gaara dislikes alcohol and Lee couldn't stand it either. Even in a social gathering, Gaara preferred cold tea (this is canon from Gaara Hiden) and Lee, a single drop of alcohol would drive him insane. So, none. They both wouldn't touch the beverages in the first place.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts? Lee would. And it would be totally random. He would pick a heart-shaped stone in the middle of his way back from a mission as a souvenir because it reminded him of Gaara's scar on his forehead. THAT random.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own? None. In the world of Shinobi, the clan is as important as the way of the ninja. Not to mention that Gaara had an obligation to keep his name and clan and blood as an identity. Rock Lee was one of two last Lees in the world so they would keep it that way.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside? THEY BOTH WOULD KILL THE SPIDER USING THEIR SUPERB JUTSU. Fouth gate and Sand Waterfall Imperial Funeral. Might end up destroying the apartment, too.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket? It was canon when Gaara said that even his sand couldn't counter extreme temperature drop in the middle of the desert. Lee would be the one to offer Gaara his jacket and jokingly said that he could open the First Gate to warm himself up. Gaara would smack his head for that. 17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling? WE ALL KNOW WHERE IS THIS GOING LMAO. Temari would act like a bad cop, Kankuro as the good one. Kankuro and Lee got along well as we saw them in Shippuden #497 but I guess Temari, no matter how much she supported their relationship, would always remind Lee to take good care of her little brother. Oh yes, she spoiled him a LOT. 18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other? Lee was a sincere person. As their relationship went closer than just a friend, Lee would likely think that it was perfectly fine if Gaara didn't realize his feeling. He told himself to keep himself together while Gaara already realized it a long time ago but decided to deny it. When Gaara eventually accepted his special, romantic feeling toward Lee, he would ask Lee if Lee felt the same and Lee was like, "I HAVE LOVED YOU FOR A DECADE ALREADY BUT THANK YOU FOR NOTICING IT." 19: How good would your OTP be at parenting? DAMN GOOD. They were both single parents with a son who were raised well and somehow a complete blueprint of them in their younger age. They even didn't find a wife to do that and it left me speechless. Two gay dads are what we need in Boruto series, proof me wrong.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters? Gaara, HE WAS A KAGE, he had to write everything in perfection as he dealt with official reports and he had to submit it to the Councils. But Rock Lee wasn't that corny either, he wrote in a decent way. Not a flowery one, but also he wouldn't use numbers as letters.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them? GAARA BULLIED LEE LMAO. No seriously Gaara did all the bullies and Lee is like, STOP IT, BABE, YOU COULD LITERALLY KILL THEM. He was almost killed once let's get real smh. 22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun? This one is also obvious. Lee did the pun and Gaara would sigh a long long long breathe because Lee reminded him to his own brother. 23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy? Lee would come home and see Gaara adopted A FREAKING CHILD. 24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired? Lee gave Gaara a piggyback because the Kage was clingy. 25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering? Lee loved to compete and roamed around randomly challenged people but Gaara wouldn't do the cheering so... But if Gaara was challenged by someone and he accepted it, Lee would undoubtedly express his enthusiasm.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder? Lee and he would BRAG it on social media. 27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked? Well, we saw Gaara in various clothing and hairstyles, so I guess Gaara would give Lee some makeover. The first thing he would get rid of was the bowl-cut, let's bet. 28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of? Gaara. He once had Shukaku and everybody feared him for that /NOT IN THAT CONTEXT- But seriously, Gaara adopted an iron-sand user, so he most likely owned a dangerous/exotic pet and Lee had to push himself to feed them. 29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains? Lee. He knew that Gaara's sand would be weakened in contact with water. So he would keep his spouse safe by shielding him... using an umbrella. Sometimes you can't just rely on your 'absolute defense'. 30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures? Both of them are practical type so laying on the bed all days was counted as a vacation. But since canonically Gaara considered Konoha as a 'paradise' due to its tropical climate and was blessed by rain, they would simply go to Konoha and enjoyed the... Forest. Lee would take a lot of pictures of his husband it would cringe everyone who saw the result.

#LeeGaa #gaalee #Gaara #rock lee #Sabaku No Gaara #otp prompts

[suzie-guru]

Suzie’s Decidedly Non-Coherent Thoughts Regarding Trollhunters Season 3.

OKAY.  

So I fully acknowledge I’ve been putting this off, but to be fair to myself, I am still in the midst of some pretty intensive training for this job, and also...

THERE WAS A LOT TO PROCESS WITH THIS SEASON. 

LIKE, A LOT. 

So this post will honestly be a hodgepodge of all sorts of things, and I’m pretty damn sure it won’t be the least bit coherent, but...I made a promise to y’all. 

By far and away, A House Divided was my favorite episode, and that’s really fucking saying something because this Season was RICH with good episodes. I said it once and I’m saying it again, A House Divided is peak Trollhunters - I was breathless and shaking from the power and emotion of that ending scene. Trollhunters is a great show all around, but when it’s when it stops and allows the emotional weight and poignancy of Jim’s journey, all of the sacrifices he has made, to set in and gives its due course...it’s heartbreaking and it’s magnificent and so incredibly powerful. 

Jim’s journey has never been an easy one, but episode hit me like a hammer to the heart - he can’t come back from this. His human life is effectively over. He’s giving up so much, so incredibly much, and he keeps on choosing to answer the call, give himself over again and again and again. This episode brought this all home, and my God, it was heart-wrenching. 

I will admit, I was at first puzzled and a little upset that after everyone saying that it was Jim’s humanity that made him such a strong Trollhunter, suddenly that wasn’t enough. It felt like such a slap in the face. But if there’s one thing about Trollhunters that stays strong, it’s the theme of sacrifice. Jim sacrificing his right to have a normal life to be the Trollhunter the world needs, Draal sacrificing his arrogance and dreams to be the protector and friend of the Trollhunter, Strickler sacrificing his desire for power to be worthy of Barbara’s love and Jim’s trust...

Sacrifice isn’t easy. It hurts a hell of a lot at times. And that’s what makes Jim such an incredible hero. When all the pieces are down, he chooses to be selfless, to put the world above himself. He ends the life he wants to have the life that will save others. I can’t even put into words what that does to me...

Phew. Okay. Deeeeeep breath, Suzanne, and collect thyself. Now onto other things...

All the above being said, Merlin is a dick. Look, I get it - he sees the bigger picture, he cares but he has to look at what needs to be done. I understand that angle. But he’s still a fucking dick. And I’m not only thinking about how he manipulates treats Jim. 

Yeah, I’m thinking about Strickler. 

Who Merlin dismisses as Changeling before walking away...

Sure, Walter was groveling to him at that moment, but...Jesus Christ, you musty magic man. Yes, absolutely, look down like everyone else does upon the race that your goddamned pupil created - hell, you probably look down on them BECAUSE your goddamn pupil created them. Don’t stop to think about they had no choice in the matter, don’t stop to think about how YOU’VE could have helped them and turned them away from Morgana if you had stepped up and set an example of acceptance that other trolls could have followed. Dismiss them just like everyone else does. Let your own bitter disappointment about Morgana color your feelings to them. JERK. 

ALSO. YOU WANTED A “CHAMPION WITH A FOOT IN BOTH WORLDS”!?! GOSH, I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE A FUCKING CHANGELING CHAMPION WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER SOLUTION THAN A POOR TEENAGER WHO JUST WANTS TO LIVE HIS LIFE AND LOVE HIS MOM AND COOK GREAT FOOD AND RIDE HIS VESPA. JUST AN IDEA, JACKASS. 

Look, fuck Merlin. Just fuck him. Jim deserves to be a champion of someone SO much better. Merlin and Morgana are both using their champions as pawns although, to Merlin’s credit, he makes a point of opening Jim’s eyes and making it about Jim’s choice. But yeah, I’m gonna write a very cathartic fanfic featuring Barbara Lake giving Merlin all kinds of hell in regards to his gross negligence over the whole changeling thing...

Okay, what else...what could I possibly be missing...

Oh yeah!

STRICKLAKE. 

Man, I was one happy camper this season after the decidedly dry spell of Season Two. And by “happy camper” I mean gloriously tortured, but I figured you would gather that. 

So many good things, so many gorgeous scenes! Walter on gravesand being brought back by his love for Barbara, his UTTER NERDNESS nervousness and psyching himself up with French (THIS FUCKING DORK) to talk to her again, Barbara being a MAJOR FUCKING ARTIST (MY GIRL IS SO TALENTED) and trying to cope with Walter running off, Walt being tempted by Morgana!Barbara (oh my god my son my son be strong my son but at the same time THIS SHIT IS ALL THE FLAVORS OF MY JAM)

AND THEN THAT SCENE IN THE MUSEUM?!

(HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT WE GOT A MOONLIT FLIGHT MY STRANGE MAGIC HEART WAS QUAKING WITH JOY AND I MAY HAVE MURMURED “THE MOONLIGHT IS PERFECT RIGHT NOW”, DON’T JUDGE MEEEEEE)

Okay, one big ass complaint though: 

WE DID NOT GET A SCENE BETWEEN WALTER AND BARBARA WHERE SHE LETS HIM KNOW SHE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING. 

...WTF?!?

On one hand, this is perfect fanfic fuel. 

On the other hand, WE WAS ROBBED. 

Also, did she just tell the other parents that he was in on everything? How on earth did that go down? I’M SO CURIOUS. 

THAT PLAY.  THOSE FUCKING DORKS. DICTATIOUS BEING ROPPED INTO IT AS WELL. THE FACT THAT WALTER ACTUALLY CHANGED INTO HIS TROLL FORM FOR IT. I’m super confused, did the other parents (aside from Barbara, obviously) think it was makeup or what? 

Meanwhile Walter’s just like “fuck it it might as well happen at least Barbara let me into her house I’ve sat through parent teacher conferences with these plebs before I can handle doing this rag-tag-ass play”

AND THEN!

Okay, I fucking CALLED Usurna pretending to be Barbara as soon as she pretended to cower next to Walter. BARBARA LAKE IS NOT ONE TO COWER, YOU STONY BITCH. 

“My life is not worth the world!”  “...It is to me.” 

*Regina: Stricklake*

*The Heart She’s Holding: Mine* 

then...

“May the world forgive me. For without you, there is no world!” 

I’M OKAY, I’M FINE, I SWEAR I’M FINE. 

Okay, what else...here’s a random run-down: 

THAT LAST FIGHT SCENE WAS STUNNING. Like, granted, the animation is always good, BUT HOLY HELL, THAT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL AND BREATHTAKING, EVERYTHING WAS CHOREOGRAPHED SO WELL. 

Walter FINALLY coming back to his rightful place of being Concerned Instructor/Father Figure to Jim. “Young Atlas, you are not alone! Don’t do this! Open the door!” 

(I was literally eating ice cream during this moment, this gif is all too real). 

STEVE AND ELI’S REACTION TO NOMURA WAS A BLESSING. LIKE, AN HONEST AND TRUE BLESSING. WE GOT THE SLOW MOTION AND MUSIC AND EVERYTHING. 

Oh fuck oH FUCK, I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT NOMURA’S REACTION TO FINDING OUT ABOUT DRAAL’S DEATH

OOOOOOOUUUUUUCH

Okay, enough pain...

(for now)

ANGOR REDEMPTION. WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. 

So I had seen that Walter had wings in the concept art of the show, but I was under the impression that they had decided to forgo that. COLOR ME HAPPY WHEN IT TURNS OUT, NOPE, THEY DID NOT. 

So can Walter just decide he’s feeling more like his knife cape today? I wonder how that works...

(totally not planning a fanfic exploring this and Walter wrapping his wings around Barbara like a cocoon)

((totally not))

(((she lied)))

“I think these kitties are from a bad neighborhood” 

“B is for blender, fur ball.” BARBARA, MY SAVAGE SWEETHEART, FUCK ‘EM UP, FUCK ‘EM ALL UP, YES YES YES. 

So I have personally figured out how I would solve Walter being stuck in his Troll form in my own fanfics (WHICH I AM SO EXCITED TO WRITE, OH WOW) but I’m pretty darn sure that there are multiple other ways for us to work with that (glamour masks, potions, et cetera et cetera...) 

I’m pretty damn sure that Barbara and Walter AREN’T gonna be raising all those babies, but you never know. I personally like the idea of them seeking out adoption centers over the world (Walter knows them because of his work with the Janus Order), but then they decide to raise the REAL Strickler as their own. 

YES I HAVE A FANFIC PLANNED DO NOT JUDGE ME

And yes, I’m sure I am not alone in this, but I let out a soft sob when I saw that dedication to Anton. Rest In Peace, darling. 

What else...

Oh yeah:

Jim’s Troll form is hot. 

There, I’ve said it. 

So yeah, this is all just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my emotions over this show, especially with the fact that it’s officially over. But yeah...what a beautiful and brilliant ride. I couldn’t have asked for me. 

...except an on-screen Stricklake kiss.

But that’s what fanfic is for. 

#trollhunters #trollhunters season three #trollhunters spoilers #yeah I'm still a mess #I ain't apologizing

[haespoir]

witch / cafe owner ! doyoung

genre: tooth rotting fluff

pairing: doyoung x reader  

warnings: cringe? ? ? 

word count: 1.4k 

a/n: i needed witch doyoung but this turned more into cafe owner,,, so i might do a more witch related one?? ? hehehe idk i just word vomited so i hope you enjoy :-)

ok so you cant tell me that doyoung is not a musical witch 

like say whatever you want 

but he’s got music flowing through his veins

this means he works with music, musical chimes, or rhythm during his spells and rituals !!! 

like imagine him humming and singing during a ritual aaa a. a a

or even playing instruments like the triangle or something 

omg that would be so PRECIOUS 

however 

contrary to popular belief his house is not loud or noisy 

he has little music boxes that he’s charmed to play in harmony with each other ( think merry go round of life from howl’s moving castle ) 

it’s so calming and just ugh. 

it literally calms your soul 

which is a good thing !! ! ! 

bc he runs a small little cafe in town hehehe with the same charmed music boxes 

it’s a small little two story cafe that sits snug between a hair shop and a bookstore

which means he gets a lot of business 

usually he’s able to handle it all

with his little charmed whisks and ovens working hard in the back, he’s never really needed much help around his little cafe 

it’s not until idols start going to the hair shop next door and that means a huge influx of customers bc everyone wants to get their hair done at the same shop as their idol 

spoiler doyoung thinks it’s dumb and the excited shrieks of the fans piss him off 

like when he glares at his fansites,,, that’s exactly how he glares at the fans that come and disrupt his peace

i mean he’s so used to the calm bustle of his normal customers 

the wild crowds that come and go drive him crazy 

and he no longer wants to work the counter anymore 

so a help wanted sign goes up 

and that’s where you come in ! 

you’re actually not bending over backwards broke because of college 

but you’re tired of asking your parents for money and you just want to get your own job so you buy them gifts with your own money 

( aaawww how cute what a good soul ) 

now you’ve always been a regular at doyoung’s little cafe 

every time you walk in your eyes are literally shining because it is so FASCINATING 

you’ve never been to a cafe as cozy as his 

you’re not sure if it’s the twinkling music that dances in the air or if it’s the warm tones of the brick wall

or maybe it’s the foliage that occupies the corners where the ceiling and wall meet that wrap the cafe in this type of comforting vibe 

you often do your homework there,,,, and perhaps take too many naps but it’s kind of inevitable because wow that place is just so calming and cozy 

anyways 

as soon as the sign goes up, you’re the first one to apply and doyoung is like ? ?  i didn’t even have the sign up for two days 

but he knows you’re a regular and he kind of trusts you? ? ? 

which is how you get the job in less than a week 

soon you’re donning a loose fitting white blouse with a black ribbon tie and a warm brown apron, working comfortably besides doyoung hehee

it doesn’t take long for you to really grasp how everything works and you absolutely love working there? ? ? 

i mean given doyoung is usually the one making the drinks and giving out orders while you take care of the cash register 

you two fall into a routine and it’s quite comforting 

lets say about two months pass by and while you love your job and doyoung is one of the best bosses you’ve ever had, you don’t know much about him?? 

you know that, while he’s an amazing baker, he prefers to let his enchanted utensils do the work. you know that he prefers white chocolate over any other ( which is gross doyoung you’re nasty i still love you but white chocolate is NASTY ) and he always is drinking a mango white tea  

but it’s not enough ? ?

so one day you gather the courage to ask him to hang out 

like outside of work 

and good lord did you need a lot of courage 

imagine doyoung, cherry bomb!era purple hair, a dark navy beret sitting snug upon his head as he looks at you, his eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity; a loose white blouse resting on his broad shoulders and it’s unbuttoned enough for you to see the thin silver chain that rests on his neck 

i think i would faint oh my 

but you’re able to mutter the words out “can we hang out, like outside of work? i mean i just want to get to know my boss !!! ” 

and gosh doyoung is so precious he just says of course with the gummiest smile and you feel your heart jump out of you chest 

like the uwu jumped out 

i mean 

perhaps you did have a teensy crush on him 

like you’ve never heard him really sing, but gosh he’s always humming and with the most endearing closed lip smile too 

it reduces your heart into a pile of goo in your chest 

and even when he asks questions like if any goods need to be replaced,, your heart is ZOOMING 

it makes sense that he’s a witch with an affinity for music 

his voice is literally music to your ears and does things to your heart that you can’t explain

so maybe it’s more than a teensy little crush 

a big Crush with a capital C and emphasis on big 

but anyways the big day rolls around and you’re so NERVOUS ! !! !

you guys meet outside of the cafe and soon you’re off down the street 

and your thoughts are just running wild 

does he feel the attraction between you two? 

is it just all in your head? ? ? 

but you’re too shy to ask and soon enough you guys are off to visit a museum,,, about witches hehehe 

i mean people know about witches and in this perfect world that i’ve crafted, there are no stereotypes that hurt them 

so doyoung takes you through the museum and you can literally feel the excitement oozing off of him 

he’s animatedly talking about everything and holding your hand without even realizing it ( or so you think ) 

you’re being dragged around by him, but not in a bad way 

it’s so nice to see him passionately telling you about things that you’ve never really went out of your way to learn about  

and doyoung’s heart is soaring 

bc like you’re so interested in his history, in learning about where he comes from and it just makes him infinitely happy !! 

Big Spoiler: he most definitely has a crush on you and has had one since you’ve stepped foot into his cafe 

but the day is spent so nicely with him ? ? it’s like you guys were made for each other ( going✈soulmate!au ) and you’re so upset that you’ve wasted so much time bc you were too shy 

anyways you guys are walking back to your place bc he refuses to let you walk home alone ( A WWW W ) your fingers are intertwined and they’re swinging with every step 

your heart at this point has fallen out of your ass and you’re going ✈ DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH KIM DONGYOUNG !!! 

all you can think about is how perfect the day was and you honestly wouldn’t mind doing it again 

like everyday LMAOFNS

but you’re in your own world until his voice breaks your little trance 

“you know i’m mad that it took this long” 

and you’re like bro wtf u mean ? ? 

“i’ve liked you since you’ve set foot into my cafe.” 

BOOM ! your heart? ? ? gONE 

you’ve got your phone out, calling a lawyer bc you want to sue him for making your heart explode 

like you literally can’t bite back the smile that itches to break out across the span of your lips and you’re just ?? speechless ?? 

he lets out the most melodic chuckle you’ve ever heard in your life and you’re still searching for words and it’s like he’s stolen them 

he ruffles your hair, with the most affectionate and endearing smile on his lips. you can see the smile lines forming above his cheeks 

and you swear there’s no one else in the world but you two and wow he’s just perfect 

“let’s do this again, soon. and not as an employee wanting to get to know their boss, but as your first date, with your boyfriend.” 

and of course you say yes heheheheh 

#kim doyoung #doyoung #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct scenarios #nct scenario #witch!au #cafe owner!au #nct imagine #nct imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung scenario #doyoung imagines #doyoung imagine

[chaletnz]

Belgrade: Day One

I arrived very late to my hostel in central Belgrade welcomed back to the sight of more Cyrillic letters. I realised that I didn't even know which kind of alphabet the Serbian language uses. This was reason enough to go for a free walking tour the next morning! After my free breakfast - that was actually amazing because it was just a voucher to get a breakfast dish from a nice restaurant up the road where the owner of the hostel knows the owner of the restaurant and arranged a good deal for us! I went for the "eggy bread" with clotted cream and got something like less sweet French toast which was delicious but the portion was huge! I'd also ordered a mocha so by the time I'd finished I was waddling to the meeting point for the tour! Our guide was a sweet local girl called Jovanna who gathered us together at the clock tower to tell us the first good news of the day - the National Museum had reopened its doors after a 15 year closure, and the art gallery was also opened again this year after a 10 year closure. She also gave us a back story of the city of Belgrade; situated on the confluence point of two rivers it was the site of 114 battles which resulted in the city being destroyed 20 times. We walked down the oldest street in Belgrade which is still a pedestrian only street filled with traditional Serbian style restaurants that has become an "artistic" area of the city. We stopped outside the old house of Serbian poet Đura Jakšić and there Jovanna told us about the traditional foods of Serbia such as the pepper spread ajvar but more interestingly, she told us about the live musicians that played in the restaurants. Apparently there was a whole system for it that everybody just knows, the musicians go table to table and also you which song you want played and they'll play it loudly as you enjoy your meal. Tipping is the protocol and there are three methods on which tips are accepted;

1. The money can be rolled into a ball and thrown into the trumpet.

2. The money can be carefully placed between the folds of the accordion.

3. The money can be stuck onto the sweaty forehead of any of the performers and if it sticks until they've finished the song they can keep it. If not, they weren't sweaty enough!

Jovanna opened her backpack to reveal a plain plastic bottle filled with a whiskey coloured liquid which she introduced to us as "Serbian moonshine" or a homemade rakije. This one had been brewed by a friend of hers with honey added for sweetness. She poured us all a generous shot and we had our first alcohol in Belgrade together at 11am. Around the corner my question from last night was answered as we were educated on the topic of language. I did already know that Serbian is the same language as Croatian, Bosnian and Montenegrin but the difference in Serbia is that the Latin alphabet and Cyrillic alphabet are used equally and interchangeably. To Serbian people there shouldn't be any difficulty from one alphabet or the other and it's the same language after all, just two ways of reading and writing it. Latin alphabet is becoming dominant because of the advances in technology that have increased the use of Latin characters on the internet and on computer keyboards. As a result to combat this and practice preservation of the Cyrillic Serbian language, all official documents and texts must be written in Cyrillic. Around this neighbourhood we saw a lot of portraits painted on walls and Jovanna told us they were famous Serbians who supported the local football team from this area. Our next stop was the crossroad which was the only road that connected the two rivers and this became the trading route. It also had a church, a synagogue and the practically named Flag Mosque which had the important duty of raising the flag at the five Muslim prayer times each day as a signal for the other mosques in the area. We walked up the hill to the Belgrade fortress; it had been built originally by the Serbs, then reinforced by the Ottomans and finally reinforced again by the Austrians, and there are traces of each of them left. From a hill at the top inside the fortress we could get some amazing views over Belgrade and see where the two rivers meet, and get our first good look at Great War Island. The island is covered in bushes and trees and is home to many species of bird, developers want to turn it into the usual hotel, restaurant, shopping complex but due to the fact it floods every year this is too impractical. The island was the historical "middle ground" on the First World War and gave headway to the troops arriving after the assassination of Franz Ferdinand which is said to be the catalyst event that sparked the entire war. A monument has been built as a memorial to all fighters in the war regardless of uniform - the statue is naked. From our viewpoint on the hill we could see Belgrade's main bridge which came under threats of bombing during the war. Some brave citizens designed tshirts with targets on them and stayed on the bridge for four days so that it could not be destroyed. During this time several bands would come and play music to keep the protestors entertained and as a result this area near the bridge is now home to a network of bars and club with live music. After the walking tour I went on a sort of street art search with a guy from Melbourne called Pete. We wandered all over the hip districts to find the coolest murals and then went for a gyro each for lunch. We were a bit tired so we went back to the hostel for a rest and Pete poured us each a glass of beer from the big 2 liter plastic bottle of it that he'd bought for about 1 euro. It wasn't too bad considering the price! We sat on the rooftop and chatted until it was almost dinner time, leaving just for a few minutes to pick up some ciders from the supermarket. Our dinner was a home cooked Serbian style feast prepared by our host Dragan (he had been slaving away in the kitchen for about 3 hours to get everything ready. There were salads, spicy sausages, spicy rice, roast chicken, potatoes, and beans among the many dishes served to us. My personal favourite dish was the rice, I don't know what herbs and spices he put on his secret recipe but it was so tasty!

#Serbia #Belgrade