i've had the concept of model andie bouncing around in my head for a while. she's beautiful and she's not the typical body shape for models—at 5'3" she's shorter and rounder than the tall, long legged models around her. and when she smiles for the camera she smiles, wide & genuine smiles that are beautiful but that are also imperfect. i think she would be a big proponent for body positivity & positivity in general. i know this isn't how modeling works but i like the concept of niceness being beautiful like the very thing that makes her so beautiful is her genuineness and her kindness & that reflects in the camera thank u for coming to my ted talk

"yeah, but," she stands with her helmet clutched to her chest. "is it always this crazy?" her gaze comes up to look at buck, flabbergasted the only word to describe her. "like, what the fuck do you mean a watermelon exploded and injured somebody? that's not real. i mean we saw it so it's real, but that's not real." it had smelled terrible, too. the whole room sweating with fermented, rotted fruit in the heat and splattered with goopy red fruit. a chunk of rind had hit a woman hard enough to knock her out. and that's their everyday. absentmindedly she sets her helmet on the shelf above her. "have you noticed how it's always thursdays? the weird stuff is always thursdays."

EVAN BUCKLEY, STATUS REPORT. the unpredictable life.

ANDIE , @lvebug: “just once i'd like something to go to plan, ya know?”

“yeah, well,” he hangs his helmet up in the cubby, shaking off the turnout coat one arm at a time, “not really part of the job description around here.” but he can’t blame her for hoping. the job’s equal parts about being quick as it is thinking things through. he’s learned from his years that quick isn’t even the right word for it. they have be efficient. it helps no one to go running in without a second thought, even if he has a long record of that. “plans change, you gotta come up with new ones, you’ll get used to it.”

@emafrost said: “THE WHOLE WORLD'S BEN ROOTING FOR YOU.”

"awe, that's sweet of you,"   andie grins, wide, and rises from the bench. how she ended up a member of x-men pickup baseball, nobody's quite sure, but they keep inviting her back anyway. and she's happy to come each time. there aren't many heroes that she gets to play with like this—secret identities on all sides, and all that.

it helps that she's pretty good. it could be the super strength, and it could also be that she played games exactly like this (sans superpowers, though) every other week during the summer as a kid. but, it could also be the super strength.

"you think you can use that mind reading of yours to tell me what pitch he's gonna throw?"   nodding towards the mound. the grin gives her away—only playing. nothing is serious when the sun is shining like this, bright yellow against a clear, crayon-blue sky, and nothing has blown up yet today.

I'M FREE FROM WORK!!!! my boss loves to waste my time by arriving late and then and keeping me late shaking the bars only 3 more weeks

@bu11seye said: “JESSIE IS CAPTIVATED BY ANDIE SO SHE OBVIOUSLY HAS TO SHOW HER BY SETTING OFF FAILED FIREWORKS IN HER FRONT LAWN”

at first andie thinks it's danger-danger. spider-danger. but, as she rouses from sleep there's none of the usual buzz of her spider-sense. this is something else—something booming from the street. she drags herself out of bed, into the hallway and towards the paltry kitchen window, so that she can open it to stick her head out of it. it transforms the sound into something that pops and echoes—and no wonder. because she can see the source now, illuminated against the dim new york street by a sprinkle of shining colors.   "jessie!"   in her delight she maybe forgets that it's the middle of the night. her giggle is sleep-deprived-high, like she's so tired that the only two options are to be really, really angry, or to find it very, very funny. her torso twists, still stuck out the window, so that she can look into the sky (though really the fireworks don't explode that much higher than andie already is from the fourth floor).   "these are beautiful!"   another delighted laugh. it kind of sounds like what?   "what are you doing here?"

hi gm all! sorry i haven't been super online the past few days, been busy & exhausted. but i miss you all!! i got work at the jewelry store today so i still won't be around but hiiii!

continued from HERE!

her hand slams down over his on the console. not with much force, but fast—holding in place. she pays attention when it matters. which means that she knows that switch under his palm isn't one she can allow him to flick, not if it sends her back to the enterprise and leaves him here, alone.   "don't you dare."   harsher than anything he's heard from her.

she's useless at this, doesn't know how to reconfigure a shuttle's engines to get them just that bit more power, or boost the shields, or, or, or, whatever's necessary to get them out of this increasing gravity well. but she does know that they will figure out something to get them both back abord the enterprise. or they won't. but they'll do it together.   "it's not the only way. and two minds are better than one."   a pause. she looks at spock. "we just need more power, right? or a way to use this to our advantage. so how do we do that?" | @prcspcr

relaxing. that's a concept andie's nearly forgotten all about. her job—and her worldview—in many ways differs from the heroes around her in a way that can make her feel a little bit like atlas trying to carry the world on her own.

sometimes it's nice to be brained over the head with a reminder that that's not true. especially when it's done as gently as kat has done now. because no man is an island, and all that, and even as it feels like she's carrying the city by herself, manhattan is bustling with other heroes all trying to do the same job that she is.

they'll never make it if they can't rely on each other.   "thank you kat. really. a hero with a name like  lovebug  should maybe be better at remembering that i'm not alone out there."   she laughs softly, amused and a little ironic.   "i'm not used to working in a team."   looking up, her smile turns more genuine, a crinkle around the eyes.   "but i think i could be."  

It’s a wonder to her, honestly, how Andie can stay so constantly strong and upbeat. It’s easy to dismiss - there was a time when Katrina would have seen it as childish or ridiculous, but she knows how painful hope can be. How exhausting and difficult it can be. It’s a level she doesn’t think she could sustain, and the fact that Andie seems to… it’s admirable, but it also makes a small part of her worry. 

“I’m glad.”  She smiles back, warm and genuine. “There’s a lot of people in New York. And a lot of them want to help you. Myself included. If you can’t get to something, the rest of us will try to pick up the slack.”  One of her hands finds Andie’s wrist, gives it a small reassuring squeeze.  “You should let yourself relax a little.”

"i don't—" her eyes shift to the side, and she shifts in her seat, grasping at—hope. "the federation must be able to help." there's an urge to grab for his hands that she quells, hands curled together instead because she's not sure how he feels about that or what's even appropriate when he's a king. what right does she have to hope that he can be saved when his hope is solely that he can save his people.

but somebody has to hope for him. all the good that he's already done here, and still the world would be dimmer without him in it. her short time here has already revealed the deep well of kindness, sharp intelligence, the sheer fucking conviction with which he is determined to save his people, but also with which he's determined to die. it's—

selfish.

king solanis, andie decides, is the most stubborn and selfish man she's ever met. the realization bubbles up in her like water rising to an angry boil in a pot, and then it overflows like it does—in a split second.

he's already brought hope. and he'll continue to, until the day he dies and every day beyond it. because the ki'yar will always be hoping for the return of their sun king. the return of their sun. because he is the light and the lifeblood of this land. they'll survive without him, but it'll be a dimmer existence. she blushes an angry red and, unable to look directly at him, eyes cut somewhere beyond his shoulder, says, "you're selfish and stubborn and your people need you."

" if I must die , let it bring hope ."

anyone wanna hold hands and be so brave

"oh hush and let me take a look. it'll only be a minute."   the cut really isn't that bad at all. the (admittedly small amount of) bleeding's already stopped, but tommy is ridiculous if he thinks she's letting him out of here without washing it. there's more than just slapping a band-aid on something—it could get infected, or irritated, or get dirt in it and YES she's fully aware that now she's the one being ridiculous. but she's three months into her program to become a paramedic and they love to harp on the dangers.   "just, consider it practice! because, like, we don't start any skills practice until next month, but obviously practice makes perfect and this is one of the basics of the job so i'm going to have to know how to do it."   there's a bowl of warm water at her feet and she's got a wet washcloth in hand that she uses to gently clean around the cut, every instruction right out of the book.   "plus, you have terrible wound-care practices for how long you've been doing this."

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds also for tommy // @lvebug

Tommy isn't shy. Correction - Tommy isn't so shy anymore. Sure, there's the occasional insecurity. An uneasiness around people that translates to mild distrust.

He's use to flare ups. He just isn't so used to Andie being the cause. Then again, he isn't used to standing shirtless while she inspects a shallow cut along his ribcage.

"It's band aid, not stiches," he grouches. "Which I can do myself."

"what firetruck?"   she weaves her head into his line of sight, trying to get his attention back without losing her grip on him and dropping him.   "ignore the firetruck. firetruck's fine!"   of course he's thinking about it. bleeding and limping and having, likely, just been used as a spider-punching-bag, and still every spare thought is for worry about the dangling truck that's pinned like a bug caught in a web. but, the need to grab his attention appears unnecessary because he nods and seems to goes along with her.

besides, it's not like lovebug hasn't already grabbed all four of the firefighters and their captain enyo and set them on the sidewalk—a little haphazard, maybe, in her rush, but all in one piece—while spider-man was doing his thing. the nyfd is her family and she's not going to leave them (quite literally) hanging. but spidey's her family, too.

the white eyes of her mask squint into two thin lines, assessing.   "i won't call you an idiot again if you don't be an idiot."   and then her gaze turns to the skyline, she picks a building, fires a webline, and slingshots off the ground towards it, trusting that spider-man will follow like he said.

The fire truck was looked at again and Peter blinked up at it, "...They're going to need a crane to get it down from there." that was going to be a little complicated to manage but he didn't really have the time in the moment to lower it himself. Not with everything else going on. It kind of looked like the doors were open though and he looked back over at Lovebug as she got a hold of him, "...I'm going to guess you're the one who got anyone in there out, while I was busy being made into a living, spider frisbee around the block. And they didn't just climb down the webbing. Or maybe they did, it's kind of a blur..." he was pretty sure the firehydrant that was currently washing the street was taken out by him.

As in Peter was thrown into it and probably cracked a bone or five along the way.

He recognized the tone in her voice, though, and what it implied. Which was that he shouldn't bother arguing because there was no winning if he tried. Aunt May had used that some tone many times and several of them aimed at him. The area was glanced over again, part to take stock of the guy he'd been having to fight and be sure he was still down, and part to make sure no one was standing somewhere dangerous. Like say, under a firetruck suspended by synthetic webbing. Peter winced and finally nodded, "...just somewhere up top, out of sight. Pick a rooftop, I'll be able to keep up. I just need a minute to catch my breath." or ten minutes, maybe. Then he needed something to eat and drink, try and jumpstart that healing his body was going to be doing the rest of the day and into the night, "But I'm only agreeing to stay put if you don't call me an idiot for a third time."

|| @lvebug ||

a breathless laugh escapes her, dizzy-high. she feels a little out of body, or maybe like her body extends beyond her—like she is what's left of the milling crowd and is the soft buzz-hum of the lights overhead. like she is the air and was the music. she'd always loved live music, but getting to be on stage and participate in that music is unlike anything else.   "post-show sweaty, maybe."   the giddiness in her voice betrays her, though. she feels incredible and has just had the most fun that she's ever had, maybe ever. her grin is stuck in place, maybe forever; she couldn't dim it even if she had any desire to (and she doesn't).

she grips mina's hands back just as tight, the two of them holding tight and quite literally jumping for joy like tweens in a movie. it morphs when andie can no longer resist the urge—she tugs mina into a hug.   "i felt amazing. holy shit!"   she grips mina's arms again.   "we have to go celebrate! dinner! come with the band for dinner!"

throughout her career, mina's learned there's very little she enjoys more than watching someone new find their place in the spotlight. watching the way they take it all in, eyes hungry and glimmering and burning with a fire that could rival the stage lights — it's like something magic. sure, you never really get used to being up there, not really ( never gets old for her, that's for sure ), but that first little while, those first few performances, are something really special. andie was practically glowing up there.

❛ are you kidding? ❜ she laughs, phone camera still held up high despite having taken no less than a dozen new photos already ( in addition to the thirty or so others she must have taken during the show ), ❛ this is when it looks its best! it's the post-show glow! ❜ and though she's teasing, she means it. once onstage, she snaps a few more photos from her new angle, before dropping her phone into her pocket so she can grasp andie's hands excitedly, bouncing on her heels. ❛ you were great! holy shit! you sounded amazing. seriously. ❜

mary oliver, from the deer

the two single most important moments in andie and romeo's origin are them noticing the other. the first is andie at the moment of the spider-bite: from across the room she catches romeo laughing with a friend, her attention caught like something right out of a movie, and she feels a crush blooming in her chest. and right at that very moment, the spider bites her. there's a spike of emotion, and venom running through her, and she faints. quite literally, she swoons. the other is romeo being saved by andie for the first time. lovebug doesn't even exist yet—it's just andie stepping into the chaos to save the boy she loves. and he sees her, like atlas above him, holding the world. he's the first one to know about her powers and it's because he's the one who notices her. at the very center of their love is the act of looking, of knowing and understanding each other.