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tydegrrl · 6 months

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I am speechless y’all

Rammer Jammer yellow hammer give ‘em HELL Alabama!!!

#alabama football #roll tide #crimson tide #yea alabama #iron bowl #iron bowl 2023

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yxlenas · 6 months

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FUCK AUBURN

#iron bowl 2023

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missbaphomet · 6 months

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Last play of the Iron Bowl was two fumbles into a pick six that was recalled. I don't watch sportsball fr but damn that was wild

#baph bleats #baph shut up #iron bowl #roll tide #iron bowl 2023 #UA v AU

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nariism · 7 months

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{REQ, ONLY IF YOU WANNA! <3]

Can you do a Wriothesley one where we take care of him when he's like sick or injured 👉👈 gotta treat my husband ykyk😞

a/n: hii i'm sorry this is kind of late! got busy with life stuff so i died a bit. anyways please take this sickfic <3

you've been spoiling him to no end.

if his sinuses weren't painfully congested and his throat didn't feel like he just swallowed glass, he would probably be smiling.

right now, he just feels miserable.

wriothesley has always prided himself on being the picture of health. to your utter jealousy, there was absolutely nothing in the world that could get him sick. even in the deepest winters with the chill of the sea sweeping over fontaine, he would walk around with only his jacket dangling off his shoulders.

you'd like to think that this is karma for all the times he rubbed in your face how he would never get sick.

"you didn't have to dive into the water like that," you scold him.

"i did have to," he replies stubbornly, lip jutting out like a child. you smear your finger across his pout to effectively wipe it off his face, laughing when his head falls forward against your shoulder in response.

"it’s just a necklace."

"it’s your favourite necklace." he quickly corrects, as if that would justify the extremity of leaping into the sea and not surfacing for three whole minutes.

"oh, sweetest..." you coo, holding his head against you and laughing again (much to his dismay) when he sniffles in a weak attempt to clear his sinuses. "you didn't have to do that."

you can feel him physically deflating in your hold so you stammer out: "but i really do appreciate you getting it back for me!"

the man just pulls away with a scowl, looking like a mixture of a kicked puppy and a cranky old dog. "you owe me for that."

"owe you?" you repeat in disbelief. "and what would you like, hm?"

"feed me."

"..."

his face lights up again with amusement as you freeze, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water trying to process what's just been requested of you.

if it were anyone else, you would have thought it was a joke. but you've known wriothesley long enough to know the telling pull of his smirk, the lazy yet smug expression screaming that he's being dead serious.

and, well, he did leap off a bridge 30 feet in the air after your charm slipped off your neck. and he did manage to recover it, returning to you like a matted wet animal all pouty and shivering from the cold.

the cherry on top of it all was that he insisted on clipping it back around your neck, prolonging his state of being drenched in freezing sea water and guaranteeing his sickness.

so... you suppose you do owe him this at the very least.

that's how ten minutes later you end up straddling his lap, warm bowl of porridge in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"open." you demand, spoon already squeezing past his lips. he chuckles, allowing you to feed him even in such a compromising position.

you look completely flustered, too. he can feel the tremble of the spoon in his mouth as he swallows his meal. maybe it's the iron grip he has on your hips. maybe it's the fact that your bulky, brooding, monster of a husband is acting like he can't feed himself.

either way, your embarrassment doesn't go unnoticed and you're sure he's enjoying every second of it.

"i should get sick more often," he muses.

you groan, realizing that you'd rather take his endless gloating over this.

"no... please don't."

#— whispers in the wind ✧#not proofread :p i'm sorry #genshin impact #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fluff #genshin #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin fic #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x gn reader #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley genshin

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the-cooler-newton · 5 months

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Unpacking is very cute and I admire the type of narrative it's able to pull off just through the gameplay of moving into spaces. the intimacy of everyday objects, still life, environmental storytelling, etc etc etc

But i have Got to talk about 2010. Unpacking is a game where all you do is take stuff out of boxes and find spaces for it, and for the most part it gives you quite a lot of freedom about where you can put stuff. There are some rules - most things cant go on the floor, stuff generally has to be in the right room, the soap has to be near the sink, etc etc, but apart from that there's no wrong place to put things.

Moving into this fucking guy's house in 2010 felt like putting everything in the wrong place. It felt like I wasn't supposed to be there, a square peg into a round hole. His entire house is pristine when I get there, everything organised perfectly, evenly spaced, colour-matched, sterile. Throughout the level I'm shoving everything around on his bookcase to fit my hoard of knickknacks, putting my red plastic colander in the cupboard above his cool green matching set of plates and bowls, my bright purple toothbrush cup, hairbrush, and straightening iron clutter his pristine bathroom counter. My family of stuffed chickens is made to look silly next to his fancy mixology set and miniature sand garden.

I end up putting my laptop and drawing tablet out on the kitchen island because there isn't a desk anywhere I can use. My markers and hoard of sketchbooks are crammed into my bedside table. I'm not allowed to move his posters in the living room, so my university certificate goes under the bed.

I won't pretend that I, playing Unpacking in 2023, didn't know how the game ended. I knew already that the protagonist would move on from this guy, but even if I didn't, I would have been able to tell. It was not fun moving into his house, it was not easy or charming to meld our lives together, I did not feel welcome there. Moving in with him felt like a transgression, an imposition. Moving in with him felt like a wrong decision in a game where I couldn't really make wrong decisions.

An incredible magic trick of game design, in my opinion.

#also something about how pristine this guys house was #but like. the CDs in his CD rack were all in there at random #and his fucking underwear was scattered randomly throughout 2 drawers #just gave me rancid vibes. this man cares so much about the Facade. the Presentation.#and as a result his house has the character and charm of a fluorescent tube light #anyway. good game #unpacking #unpacking game

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baelontargaryen · 7 months

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DAENERYS APPRECIATION WEEK 2023

↳ DAY ONE: Character traits

The dwarf shrugged. “I know that she spent her childhood in exile, impoverished, living on dreams and schemes, running from one city to the next, always fearful, never safe, friendless but for a brother who was by all accounts half-mad … a brother who sold her maidenhood to the Dothraki for the promise of an army. I know that somewhere out upon the grass her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has crossed the grasslands and the red waste, survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet. Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, ‘Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I’ve been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I’ve washed the blue dye from my hair and I’d like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?’”

#danyweek2023 #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #canondany #house targaryen #valyrianscrolls #targaryensource #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #asoiafesdit #daenerystargaryenedit #*mine #i can’t make gifs cause my computer is broken pls forgive me 😭

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exhausted-archivist · 7 months

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Art Used in the Dragon Age: Official Cookbook: Tastes of Thedas

While there was some new art, previously seen concept art, there was also the use of ending credit slides. Some possibly denoting certain world states that I briefly referred to in the master post here.

I've split it into sections of:

New Art

Previously Shown Art

Character Art and Slides

General World State Ending Slides

Everything is going below the cut because this will be long. I will also note which page and recipe each image accompanies in the book for easy reference. (Here's to hoping tumblr doesn't mess with the image layout.)

Edit 10/30/2023: Added the page numbers that were missed because it glitched out and deleted things when I tried to go over 30 images and didn't notice till now.

New Art

Page numbers from top left to right going down:

Orlesian Woman: Sour Cherries in Cream, p. 121, Tevinter Pumpkin Bread, p. 151

Building Etching: Crow Feed, p. 43, Antivan Sip-Sip, p. 161

Spider Design: Posion Stings, p. 115

Sea Creature: Lamprey Cake, p. 147

Smoking Meat Racks: Smoked Ham from the Anderfels, p. 95

Antaam Spearman: Unidentified Meat, p. 37

Admiral Isabela: The Hissing Drake, p. 157

Etching of Bowl: Rivaini Couscous Salad, p. 19

Etching of Platter: Nevarran Blood Orange Salad, p. 13

Table Setting: Goat Custard, p. 127

Red Bear: Conversion Charts, p. 172

Giant: Lamprey Cake, p. 149

Blue Building: About the Authors and Photoghraphers, p. 175

Mabari and Army: Roasted Turkey with Sides, p. 99

These are all new images with three of these looking to be concept art: the presumably Orlesian woman looking at Andrastian themed items, the antaam spearman preparing to throw a spear, and the table setting of what looks like it might be for Rivain or Tevinter based on the aesthetic. Though I lean more Tevinter due to the snake on the basket.

The bowl and platter look to maybe be prop designs, and they are distinctly bird themed with what looks like feathers around the base of the bowl and then mirrored crows on either side of the platter with a dagger etched in the center.

The red bear shown here is new, though it is similar to a mural in Dragon Age: Inquisition in the barn where there is a green-ish bear with stars on its muzzle breathing what might be fire, while holding the white silhouette of a figure with antlers. (Couldn't attach it due to there being a photo limit.)

Then to further note that the dark blue building image looks similar to some concept art/Development images from Dragon Age: Dreadwolf (DA4)

Previously Shown Art

The piece below have been shown elsewhere before, but there are some new additions so I am showing it here separately from the new art.

Ferelden Spread: Roasted Wyvern, p. 85

This is was first shown in The Art of Dragon Age: Inquisition and is labeled as "Fereldan Fineries". It was coloured and lacked the two figures in the back left of this image. (Below)

Character Art

Cole and Maryden: The Emerald Valley, p. 169

Sera: Sera's Yummy Corn, p. 103

The Iron Bull and Krem: Hot Chocolate, p. 159

Varric and Aveline: Varric's Favorite Pastries, p. 143

Josephine and Inquisitor: Fish Chowder, p. 59

Leliana: Grilled Poussin, p. 77

Cullen: Croissants, p. 137

Morrigan and Keiran: Nettle Soup, p. 65

King Alistair: King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew, p. 67

These were mostly character specific ending slides you could get in DAI, going from the top left to right they are slides for: Trespasser: Human Cole ending up with Maryden. Trespasser: Partial image of a slide for an Inquisitor who agrees to become a red jenny with Sera and the Inquisition is disbanded. Trespasser: Iron Bull and the Chargers are alive and taking jobs throughout Orlais and Ferelden. Trespasser: Varric is Viscount Trespasser: Josephine, her personal quest completed. This is the romanced Josephine version. Trespasser: Leliana, not Divine Trespasser: Cullen, having not taken lyrium during Inquisition Inquisition: Morrigan and Keiran leaving Skyhold World of Thedas vol 2: King Alistair

Ending Slides

Antaam Slide: Lentil Soup, p. 63

Halamshiral Slide: The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew, p. 57

Grey Warden Slide: Sweet and Sour Cabbage, p. 61

Disbanded Inquisition Slide: Sugar Cake, p. 145

These were all ending slides you could get at some point in Inquisition, from the top left to right: Trespasser: The Qunari threat Inquisition: Kicked out of Halamshiral with low approval Inquisition: Grey Wardens were kept in southern Thedas to rebuild, they are estranged from the Wardens in Weishaupt Trespasser: The Inquisition was disbanded

Final Thoughts and Implied World State

Overall the world state makes a lot of sense I think, they went with the one that would be less quantum - so no one is dead or could be dead and is in an important role; hence Cassandra being Divine,

Summary

Inquisition is disbanded

Grey Wardens are divided; though as of the comics and Tevinter Nights we know regardless all Wardens have been called back to Weisshaupt. Unclear if the civil war mentioned in DAI is actually happening.

Morrigan has Kieran and he doesn't have the old god soul anymore

Cole is human

Josephine had her personal quest done.

Leliana wasn't killed in Origins, she is fully human and now retired.

Alistair is king

Cassandra is Divine, no clear answer on the state of the Seekers.

Cullen is retired and established the sanctuary for former templars.

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jisungsdaydreamer · 1 year

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The Happiest Day of Her Life

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

SYNOPSIS He'll always smile if it's for you.

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader Genre: angst Warnings: heavy drinking, unhappy ending, heartbreak Word Count: <;1k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“I do.”

You smile at Minho as you are both pronounced married; your heart has never been more full. He giddily dips you back when he kisses you, making you forget the entire world around you. You don’t notice the tightness of your menacing designer high heels. You don’t hear the thunderous applause from all of your swooning guests. You don’t notice your best friend’s heart breaking while he claps louder than anyone else in the crowd.

Hyunjin watches as you marry the love of your life, looking like the radiant and joyful bride that he always knew you would be. He just never imagined you’d be someone else’s and not his. You were each other’s first loves, but that love couldn’t last on both ends, eventually fading away on yours. You cherish him as your best friend, not the man you loved so long ago, and that’s why he’s here. After all, he’d watched as you fell in love again, with someone better than him in every way. He’d listened as you giddily told him about Minho, assuming that time had healed all wounds. He’d congratulated you as you showed off your shimmering diamond ring, forgetting that once upon a time, you had told Hyunjin you would marry him.

The entire ceremony was stunning, especially the vows that you and Minho had handwritten for each other. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd. Except for Hyunjin’s, ironically. The night before, he’d left the rehearsal dinner early, faking a headache and getting stupid drunk in his hotel room. An hour later, he sat slumped next to the toilet bowl and cried his heart out until morning.

When the best man, Jisung, had banged on his door, reminding him to get off of the bathroom floor and get ready for the wedding he could not miss, he had looked into the mirror and promised himself that he would not shed one more tear. Not until tomorrow, because tomorrow, Hyunjin could lose it. But today, he will keep it together, for you. He will be happy for you, because this is the happiest day of your life. And he cannot ruin it.

You always wanted a beach wedding, and you finally have it, as you dance on the soft sand in your new husband’s arms. There are dainty festival lights strung up everywhere, and the mix of sweet music and the pleasant chatter is absolutely perfect. As you lean your head against Minho’s chest, serenely closing your eyes while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, Hyunjin knows he can walk away.

So he does, wandering away from the reception and further along the beach, until he can’t hear the voices anymore. He finds a stray log washed up on the sand and sits on it, watching the sun slowly set. The hours pass, as the festivities go on and its lights twinkle in the distance, but Hyunjin stays there, quietly observing the roll of gentle waves.

The vibration of his watch snaps Hyunjin out of his reverie, signaling the end of the day. Midnight. Hyunjin lifts his head to look up at the moon, observing how even she had the stars in the sky to keep her company, unlike him. The pain is overwhelming, coming out of Hyunjin in a shattering sob. Finally, he lets the tears he has been holding back roll down his cheeks, uninhibited and raw.

Back at the party, you and Minho ask around if anyone has seen Hyunjin, both wanting to take photographs with him and preserve another beautiful moment of the day on paper. But Hyunjin will never forget what this day felt like, because today was the day that the love of his life was the happiest he had ever seen her. And that will be enough for him.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

TAGLIST @chansburgah (please message to be added!)

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

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tydegrrl · 6 months

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I mean

#still in shock #alabama football #roll tide #crimson tide #iron bowl 2023

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themakeupbrush · 8 months

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Miss Alabama USA 2023 State Costume

As you enter Birmingham, Alabama, you see the statue of Vulcan-the Roman god of Ironsmiths-holding his iron hammer aloft. At the turn of the 20th century, Alabama was known for its Iron City and fueling the Industrial Revolution. This theme of "iron as strength" has carried through Alabama's history, including the annual "Iron Bowl" football game between the University of Alabama and Auburn University, the first game played in 1893. The state of Alabama has inspired iron-willed women such as Helen Keller, Rosa Parks, and Coretta Scott King, who served as the cornerstone for civil rights in the United States.

#pageant #Alabama #miss USA #national costume #national costume contest

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pixiedane · 9 months

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She remembered the smell of the coconut oil in the black cast-iron skillet. The sound of it catching fire. The sparks like fireflies in the backyard.

She remembered the feel of the fork as she mashed the banana. The best ones had black spots, just overripe but not too wet, not too sweet. It was her job to press the fruit into a paste. The first ingredient to go in the bowl. 'The foundation of the recipe', that’s what her grandmother called it. "Breakfast is built on this banana. Today is built on breakfast. Your life, B’Elanna, is built on today."

They added the other ingredients on top of the mashed banana paste. She pretended it was the weather. A maple syrup flood. Flour snow. Mixed all together in a baking tornado. Then added to the pan, three at a time. More than once she was too impatient and when the pancakes flipped they fell apart in a banana mash-flour snow-oat milk ribbon mess.

But even the ugly ones tasted like home.

She handed the fork to Miral. Carefully showed her how to mash the fruit. Grinned when the child decided to do it her own way. Just like Tom. Just like her.

They created weather together. They made sparks like fireflies. They measured out three pancakes at a time. And they flipped them too soon. But even the ugly ones tasted like home.

"Breakfast is built on a banana," she told her daughter. "Today is built on breakfast. And your life, Miral, your whole beautiful life, is built on today."

Miral touched her fat, wet, banana-mush-covered hand to B’Elanna’s cheek.

Today was perfect.

written for @startrekpotluck 2023, day 7

#startrekpotluck2023 #b'elanna torres #miral paris #belanna torres #belanna pancakes #banana pancakes #recipe #star trek voyager #vegan recipe #vegan pancakes

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42wv · 11 months

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O-MEGAS® by The Last Dregs Artificially flavored whole grain toasted nutritional oat cricles to be sold in Eorzea soon.

Contains 10% more iron than your average cereal. Metal shrapnel in the cereal bowl is a suggested serving only.

Comes with a free minion inside!

You can grab a 11x17 poster of this at my table at Anime Expo 2023! I'll be at table H53

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy #omega ffxiv #art

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wander-over-the-words · 6 months

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BioFluff Week 2023 Fic #2

Title: Close Encounters of the Rapture Kind

Prompt: Monsters/Costumes

Summary: The one where the Big Daddy and Big Sister suits come in handy, and Eleanor’s going to her first Halloween party, for which there are some ground rules.

Characters: Subject Delta, Augustus Sinclair, Eleanor Lamb; mentions of Little Sisters, Billy Parson, Big Daddies, Big Sisters, Splicers, Sofia Lamb.

Pairing: Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta, with some family fluff with Eleanor.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and physical assault.

Notes: Second submission for a new BioFluff Week! Here’s the response to the prompt ‘Costumes’! Realistically, I’d imagine Delta would’ve been long-since cured by the time Halloween comes around, but fuck it, I like this idea. Happy Halloween!

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic also available on AO3.

…

“I remember this Sinclair guy from when I was a kid,” one woman says to the other, frowning lightly as they lead their children through the iron gates of the most expensive and lavish house in town, which currently has three HAPPY HALLOWEEN banners strung up above the doors and across the outer fence on either side of the gates.

“He never used to open his gates to anybody who wasn’t givin’ him cash. He used ta sit on his porch and smoke sometimes, but other’n that, he’d just pop up in town every so often and then disappear again back into his house. Used to give me the creeps, him and this place. No idea why he’d be entertainin’ trick-or-treaters now…”

“Didn’t he go missin’ some time ago?” says her companion, holding her own child by the hand as they walk down the path toward the house.

“Yeah, ‘bout twenty years ago or so. My ma thought she was hallucinatin’ when she saw him in the street the other day, with that girl by his side.”

“Well, there ya go: he’s got a child now. Bet she’s got her daddy wrapped around her little finger an’ asked him to open the doors to trick-or-treaters this year, so he has. Just had a change of heart, is all.”

The first woman hums, clearly holding no hope for Sinclair’s character, but keeps it to herself as the four of them climb the steps, up onto the porch that they used to see Sinclair sitting upon as kids.

There’s a sense of trepidation in the air; Augustus Sinclair was considered more-or-less an oddity to the people in town at best, since he hardly interacted with anybody who wasn’t a client or staff (either his own or the ones working at the shops in town, during the times he’d magically pop up). The older folk in town knew him better; they would say he was a horrible man and would tell true stories of how he screwed good people over with that ‘fancy law degree’ of his, no sense of morality or empathy to him. Just before he disappeared, he abruptly fired his entire house staff, uncaring how much they were relying on his money or not.

Meanwhile, the kids would share theories of what he got up to in that big house, ranging from being some secret serial killer to actually being a ghost. Made him seem so much scarier during the times he’d appear in town, the suspected murderer or spirit being so much closer to them.

Now, here they are. On his porch. Previously forbidden land. Like something from a legend.

They share a look, then shake their heads at themselves, feeling silly, and then the second woman encourages her daughter to knock at the doors.

The little sugar plum fairy toddles up and knocks the hardest she can.

It takes a few moments, but then there comes a thump-thump-thump from behind the doors, like large boots hitting wood, and then the doors open, and the two women feel their faces pale as they look upwards.

“Oh, wow!” exclaims the first woman’s son, dressed up in a cardboard costume to look like a robot.

The little girl gasps, then grins and exclaims, “I love your costume!”

The large diving suit figure stares back silently, yellow-glowing porthole pointed at them all, and does nothing as he simply stands there, bowl of sweets in his hands - hands so big, they look like they could crush the four of their skulls in one fist, which only serves to make the women’s faces pale more.

“M-Mr. Sinclair?” one of them stammers.

“Nope,” comes from beside the doorway, and Augustus Sinclair pops his head into view before stepping forward to stand beside his…friend, “that’d be me. Evenin’, now. Happy Halloween an’ all that.”

“Uh…who’s…?” the second woman says, slowly pointing at the…person before them.

“Hm? Oh.” Sinclair looks up at them, then pats their arm. “This here is Delta. He takes the holiday all seriously, as you can see. He’s, ah, dressed as a haunted divin’ suit.”

Finally, ‘Delta’ moves: he turns at the waist to look at Sinclair, then looks back at the two women and lets out a little grunting noise.

“Uh - the, ah, helmet blocks his speech, ya see, heh,” Sinclair quickly says. “I’m his little helper for the evenin’, just here to play translator. Ha - I told him this costume was gonna be a pain in the neck ta greet trick-or-treaters with, but he don’t listen ta me, hehe. Like I said before: he jus’ loves this holiday.”

He looks down at their children and hastily changes the topic, clasping his hands together.

“But here I am, gabbin’ - I’m sure your little ones are just itchin’ for some of that candy they’ve been promised.”

He nudges Delta with his elbow.

“Go ahead, chief.”

Delta looks at Sinclair, then tilts himself forwards at the waist to look down at the children. His shoulders lifting upwards, he lets out some…noise that - call them crazy - sounds like whalesong, and Sinclair flashes them a grin, even while the women’s eyes widen.

“Aw, he’s just sayin’ that he likes the looks of your costumes,” he says, and the women can only wonder how the hell he knows that.

“Thank you!” says the little girl, curtseying to Delta in her little pink tutu, which prompts another one of those strange noises from him.

Carefully, Delta lowers himself down to one knee, and even when he’s kneeling like that, he looks huge compared to the rest of them, thanks to how thick his body is, seemingly all muscle even when the suit is a little baggy.

It does nothing to calm the ladies’s opinions of him; they continue to stare at him like they’re worried he’ll drag them into the house and prove those childhood theories about Sinclair being a murderer correct.

However, he doesn’t do anything like that. Instead, he just innocently holds out the bowl of sweets to the children, who, surprisingly, ignore it in favour of descending upon him.

The little robot boy boldly goes over to poke at Delta’s bicep and tug on his sleeve, coming over so quick that Sinclair takes a small step back to keep the kid from entering his personal bubble, while the little girl is staring, fascinated, at Delta’s left hand. After a moment, she reaches out to touch his finger, and Delta passes the bowl to his right hand so that he can offer his left one to her for her to get a proper look at it.

The women look like they don’t know what to do with themselves; it’s obviously not appropriate for their children to just go poking at a stranger like this, but he doesn’t even seem to care that they’re doing that, and to be honest, this…’Delta’ is giving them the creeps.

“Uh - honey,” the first woman tries to say to her son, but Sinclair holds up a hand to stop her.

“Aw, now, it’s alright. He doesn’t mind a little curiosity.”

“Are you a robot?” the little boy asks Delta, tilting himself to look at Delta’s porthole from where he stands by Delta’s side.

“No, no,” Sinclair says in his place, “there’s a man under there - flesh ‘n’ blood, like you an’ me.”

“Are you really super tall,” the girl asks, then, “or do you got stilts on?”

“Ah.” Sinclair holds up a finger. “‘Fraid we can’t tell you that, little lady. Trade secret.”

The boy raps his knuckle against the bottom of Delta’s helmet, testing the material that it’s made from, and gawks when he realises it’s real metal and not something like painted papier mâché.

“Is that helmet really heavy?” the boy asks. “You must be really strong!”

“Oh,” Sinclair chuckles, “trust me, son, he is. Could lift a car with those big ol’ arms o’ his.”

“Where did you get your costume?” the girls says, undeterred by the lack of a proper answer to her last question.

“Uh,” Sinclair’s smile turns slightly awkward, “I, ah…I know a guy. He, uh, made it an’...I paid for it all.”

“What’re these?” the boy then asks, tilting himself the other way now to look at Delta’s back, pointing.

“Those’re oxygen tanks, son - so’s he can breathe.”

“But what about those ones?” the boy adds, pointing now specifically to the glass tubes that contain some kind of gooey liquids that glow red and blue.

“Oh. Uh.” Sinclair’s smile falters, then he picks it back up, if a little uncomfortable-looking now. “That’s his, uhh…ectoplasm - s-since he’s a haunted divin’ suit and all.”

Coming back around to stand in front of Delta, the boy looks over at his left arm to follow the tube of blue going into Delta’s wrist; Sinclair watches the kid like he’s worried the boy’s going to ask another question about that ‘ectoplasm’, but when the kid doesn’t, the tension leaves Sinclair’s body and he subtly gives a sigh of relief.

The little girl is still investigating Delta’s hand. She pats at the rings on his gloved fingers, then moves around to stand beside him so that she can press her hand to his, the bottoms of their palms matching up, and she breathes a soft “Wow…!” at how much bigger Delta’s hand is compared to hers. She then moves back around to stand in front of him and takes hold of Delta’s finger in the entirety of her little hand, squeezing it and tugging on it to test Sinclair’s answer that Delta really is human and not some spectacular machine he’s programmed. When she evidently feels flesh and not metal or wires, she gasps and turns to her mother.

“Momma,” she calls, “I wanna dress like this next year!”

“Me too, me too!” the boy exclaims quickly.

The women look only more nervous, and Sinclair barks out a laugh before nudging Delta’s shoulder.

“Why, do ya hear that, chief?” he says. “You went an’ got yourself a coupla little fans here.”

Delta lets out a long note of that…whalesong he seems to be talking in (what kind of helmet is he wearing that reduces his speech to that?), before he holds out the bowl of sweets again, giving it a little shake.

“He’s askin’ if y’all wanna grab your candy now,” Sinclair says. “Go on, now - one a piece.”

The kids look at him like they forgot that was why they came here at all, then both rush to the bowl Delta’s holding out between them, each taking a stripey lollipop from the collection in there with words of thanks, grinning at Delta as he comes off of his knee and gets back up to full height. The kids only just grace his knees.

Just as the children are getting fascinated with Delta all over again, their mothers start ushering them off the porch, telling them there’re still plenty of houses to visit, and so the kids wave goodbye to Delta and Sinclair.

Sinclair wiggles his fingers in a goodbye wave, while Delta waves goodbye to match them, which just delights the kids; they’re grinning and giggling all the way up the path.

“He’s neat,” the boy says to his mother.

“I like him!” the girl exclaims. “He’s pretty!”

Their mothers, on the other hand, are still the picture of nerves as the second leans over to the first and hisses, “I thought you said he just had a daughter?”

“I have,” the first says, “no idea who that was.”

Behind them, the doors to Sinclair’s home are shut - and now that they are, Sinclair grins up at Delta as Delta lets out a long crooning noise, his own version of cheering.

“What’d I tell you, kid?” Sinclair says, hands on his hips. “I knew they wouldn’t be able ta tell you ain’t jus’ wearin’ a costume! I reckon we mighta just found a day where you can blend in!”

Leaning down to put the bowl of sweets on the nearby low windowsill, Delta’s crooning again, his shoulders perked up high in his symbolism for happiness.

His first human contact since arriving on the surface, outside of fellow Rapture survivors, had gone off without a hitch! He’d been worried that his appearance would be frightening for the kids - the Little Sisters only loved him, after all, because they were designed to - and he does feel a little bad for scaring their mothers like that, but they’d liked him! They’d really liked him! Reminds him of finding that one audio tape in Dionysus Park made by that little boy, Billy, who thought the ‘yellow-eyed girl’s’ dad was ‘strong and nice’.

He doesn’t doubt that there may still be some kids who might find him scary, but for now, he can bask in the feeling of having interacted with people outside of his loved ones.

Of course, he adores Augustus and Eleanor, and they’ll always be his favourite people, but…it’s nice, to be able to show his (albeit covered) face to other people. Makes him feel a little less like some freak they have to hide behind closed doors.

Delta reaches out and throws an arm around Sinclair, bringing him in for a grateful, overjoyed hug, and Sinclair nearly stumbles with how suddenly he’s brought in, then ends up laughing into Delta’s chest and hugs him back the best he can with their size difference.

Delta squeezes him as gently as he can without harming him, then pulls back to point toward the doors with his free hand, uses the same finger to tap the corner of Sinclair’s lips, then briefly struggles to think of how to communicate his message before he gives an awkward thumbs up.

Luckily, Sinclair understands what he’s going for.

“Aw, now, ain’t that sweet? You think nothin’ of it, honey,” Sinclair replies. “I’m happy ta play translator for ya - not like I got anythin’ in particular to do tonight, anyhow. Though - those kids were gettin’ a little too talkative for my tastes. It’s probably best for me ta talk to the grown-ups, make sure they know you only look a little scary, such is the theme. They ain’t had the experience of takin’ a train ride with you, now, have they?”

Delta croons, still delighted by how this has all turned out, and gives Sinclair another squeeze before letting him go, feeling Sinclair pat his side and pull back from the hug.

“Now, you just watch, chief,” Sinclair says, starting to turn around, looking over his shoulder at Delta and oblivious to the footsteps coming down the stairs, “cause I’m bettin’ that this time next year, you’re gonna have every child in town dressed as little Big Daddies. A-heh. Suppose that’d mean we’d call ‘em ‘Little Daddies’, now wouldn’t we?”

He chuckles at his own joke, earning a laugh from Delta, and then turns his head to look in the direction he’s intending to walk - only to come face-to-face with a Big Sister.

Instinctively, Sinclair scrambles backwards, letting out a burst of a panicked shout and reaching for Delta - which has Delta lurching toward him to protect him, purely instinctual too - before Sinclair’s brain catches up to the situation, and he slaps a hand over his mouth to block off anymore sound. The same hand goes down to his heart a millisecond later, before he fixes the Big Sister with a stern look.

“Now, I thought we mentioned not wearin’ the helmet when you’re home?” he says. “Break the rule if you want, but you’re responsible for the heart attack I get.”

Delta gives him a sympathetic little pat on the back, crooning to him softly to try and be comforting, as the Big Sister reaches up with both hands and pulls her helmet off.

“Sorry,” Eleanor says, hugging the helmet to her chest with one arm while moving strands of her hair out of her face with the other hand, smiling sheepishly. “I just heard the trick-or-treaters and got so excited.”

She looks up at Delta brightly.

“How did it go, Father?”

Shoulders rising higher than ever, Delta lets out a long croon of excitement, clasping his hands together with a fondness.

“Aw, those kids had no idea that that wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill Halloween costume!” Sinclair exclaims, grinning up at Delta, all panic from before dissipating in a moment as he’s overcome by pride and secondhand excitement. “Even went an’ got called pretty by that little girl out there! They just loved him.”

Delta lets out another delighted note of whalesong.

Eleanor reaches out to touch his arm.

“That’s fantastic, Father! I’m so happy for you,” she says. “Your first contact with the outside world! And it’ll only get better once we remove you from your suit, and then,” she grins, “you can come outside with Augustus and me and you can see the entire town, as we have!”

Delta looks as though he could explode from the excitement, the way his body language starts to bunch up, and Sinclair chuckles and pats him on the chest.

“Sure, but if that’s the case, then we’re just goin’ ta hafta hope you’re still beefy enough to carry this here suit on your back. Otherwise, once Halloween comes back around, we’ll have to find somethin’ else for you ta wear to the door.”

Eleanor smiles at her father, then looks to Sinclair, raising an eyebrow.

“Speaking of which, Augustus - aren’t you going to dress up as well…?” she asks, looking him up and down, in his usual attire. “It’s well into the night for you to be without your costume.”

“I’m as dressed as I’m gonna be, honey,” Sinclair replies bluntly, “as a businessman who doesn’t do Halloween.”

Eleanor gives an exasperated scoff while Delta lets out a long note that decreases in volume as it goes and sounds something like booing, giving Sinclair a little nudge in his own way of telling him not to be boring.

Sinclair holds up his hands. “Now, don’t give me that - I told you both from the start: I don’t do Halloween. Only reason I opened the gates at all this year was cause we wanted ta test if your daddy could get away with showin’ himself tonight. That’s it. I just don’t partake in the tradition.”

Delta lets out a huff that echoes in his helmet, and Sinclair looks up at him with mock offence.

“Why, I just went an’ spoke your words for you, chief, an’ this is how I’m repaid? Heartless of you.”

Delta repeats the huff.

“Downright shameful,” Sinclair says, then looks to Eleanor as she giggles. “You gonna be headin’ out soon?”

Eleanor grins excitedly at him.

Couple days ago, she comes to he and Delta in the evening, while Delta’s watching television on the floor and Sinclair’s reading the newspaper, and requests their attention in that tone that let them know that she - as a teenaged girl - was about to ask for something. Delta’s attention was on her in a second, and Sinclair looked at her over the tops of his glasses, otherwise not moving from the pose he’d been in when she interrupted his reading.

She’d nervously shuffled on the spot, then said, “My friends from school have invited me to a Halloween party. May I go?”

The two of them had looked at each other, then fired off a few questions, like where the party is (across town, at a friend’s house) and who will be there (only people from school). She’s spent time around her chums outside of school hours before, though never late into the evening, and parties are a different deal altogether. Lots of things can happen at parties with teenagers - especially to someone who’s never been to one before - so they (mostly Delta) had been wary.

But…she’d looked so hopeful, and part of the whole reason of coming to the surface was so Eleanor could be free to be a normal teenager, so…they’d said yes, and she’d been so excited, she’d physically jumped for joy and then gave them both hugs, exclaiming a flurry of thank yous before requesting to use the phone to call her friends and tell them she’s coming to the party.

“I think so,” Eleanor tells him, her hug on her helmet growing tighter as she gets more and more eager to go.

“An’ you’re sure you don’t want me ta drive you over there?” Sinclair asks. “It’s quite a walk, across town.”

“No, it’s alright. I’d prefer to walk - then I get to see how everybody else is celebrating.” She looks towards Delta. “And besides, you ought to stay here, in case any more trick-or-treaters come by, then you’ll have to translate for Father again.”

Delta gives a dismissive wave of the hand and mimes that he could write things down instead.

Eleanor’s smile twists at the end, growing awkward.

“There is no pen in this house that you could hold successfully, Father,” she says, to which he gives an admitting grunt, shoulders drooping slightly. “I’ll be fine, though. I promise.”

She takes a deep breath, nerves joining her excitement in a cocktail that makes her tummy flip. It’s the same way she’d felt when going to school for the first time, and Sinclair had had to give her a pep talk in the car.

“Alright,” she says with a determined nod, “here I go.”

Eleanor starts to go toward the double doors - only for Delta to slide into place in front of them to block her path, folding his arms.

From the knot his arms make, his index finger extends and wags at her, while he lets out a rhythmic set of noises that sound like the traditional “Ah, ah, ahh.”

Eyes wide, Eleanor’s excitement turns into confusion, face falling, then looks at Sinclair as he steps up beside Delta to block the doors as well, arms also folded and expression looking more stern than it had a second ago.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he says, “but I reckon the big fella wants ta hear the rules we set, just one last time ‘fore you go.”

Delta grunts in confirmation.

“Wouldn’t mind hearin’ ‘em for myself, if I’m ta be honest,” Sinclair adds.

Relenting and understanding, Eleanor smiles to herself and holds her helmet by her waist as she threads her fingers together underneath it, in lieu of humbly putting her hands together like a schoolchild.

“I have to be home by ten o’clock - at the latest - and not a second more. Otherwise, you’ll come looking for me - and you’ll embarrass me in front of my friends, for added measure. You would prefer that I stay at the site of the party, but if I do happen to leave the area for any reason, I’m to tell you once I get home. If I do go somewhere else and you find out about it, I will be grounded for anywhere from two weeks to a month, depending on other factors of the situation. As I’m not legally allowed to drink alcohol, I’m not to have any at the party. If I feel that I need to call you to come and collect me, I should. I’m also to be careful not to use any of my Plasmids or other ADAM-related abilities. Oh - and if anybody asks, I’ve come dressed as a haunted diving suit, and you paid for my costume.”

Sinclair - who’s been holding up his hands this whole time, lifting fingers to count off every rule Eleanor mentions - pointedly wiggles the next finger on his second hand to indicate a missing rule.

“And…?” he says.

Eleanor suppresses a laugh, barely managing to not grin as she says amusedly, “And absolutely no -” she gives a little snort, covers her nose and mouth with one hand, then drops it to finish her sentence “- ‘canoodling’ with any boys. Or girls, for that matter.”

Delta gives a very huffy little grunt of confirmation; clearly, to him, that’s the most serious rule of the lot.

“And what do we do if someone we don’t like keeps botherin’ us after we’ve told ‘em ta scram?” Sinclair asks.

Eleanor’s smile drops as she becomes more serious.

“I’m to deliver a kick between their legs and make it clear that they were disturbing me and not the other way around, just in case they try to lie about it to others.”

“That’s right.” Sinclair nods. “Now, there’s one last rule you forgot ta mention.”

Mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape, Eleanor looks confused, looking away as she ponders it, then her expression scrunches up as she looks back at him, silently asking what she could have possibly forgotten when she’s certain she’s said everything.

Sinclair’s stern expression gives way to a smile as he and Delta step aside and gesture to the doors in nearly perfect unison.

“Go an’ enjoy yourself,” he says.

Eleanor immediately brightens up, grinning wide, and rushes over to throw her arms around him.

He lets out a little “Oof!” since she’d practically barreled into him, making him take a step back and, still unused to physical affection that isn’t coming from Delta, Sinclair stiffens up immediately and winces. But then he slowly puts his hands on her back to loosely hug her in return, smiling awkwardly.

Grinning still, Eleanor pulls back and then runs to Delta, who is much more receptive to a hug from her; she practically leaps at him to hug his torso the best she can, and he’s all too happy to catch her and hug her close, crooning gently.

“I’ll see you later, Father,” Eleanor says warmly.

Delta strokes a hand over her hair, warbling softly to her, before he lets her go and watches as she excitedly hurries to the doors, practically bouncing, and gives them one last grin before taking another deep breath.

“Now,” she says, “here I go.”

And she opens the leftmost door and disappears through it, out into the Halloween air.

Delta goes to the window, pressing his hands to the glass, to watch her skip down the path and exit through the front gates. He keeps watching until he can’t see her anymore, stands there a little longer in case she comes back, then he sighs softly and comes away.

“She gone now?” Sinclair asks.

Shoulders drooped sadly, Delta grunts a yes.

“D’aww,” Sinclair cocks his head, looking up at Delta with a sympathetic smile, “chin up, now, kid. She’ll only be gone for a few hours, then she’ll come rushin’ back home ta tell us all about it. She’s not leavin’ the nest forever just yet.”

The thought of that happening makes Delta’s heart hurt worse than it did when separated from Eleanor down in Rapture, but he supposes Sinclair’s right. Just a few hours - Eleanor can handle herself for that long. She fought an army of Splicers alongside him down in Persephone, she can handle interacting with kids her own age at a party.

(Hopefully…He’s prepared to go racing across town if she decides she needs him.)

“I know it’s worry-makin’, her bein’ out in the dark like that, but you oughta get used to the idea, chief,” Sinclair adds. “She’s a teenager now, an’ this is what teenagers do. She ain’t gonna wanna spend every wakin’ moment with old men like us (presumably, in your case) anymore.”

Delta lets out a gasp, then his shoulders droop even more and he lets out a low, depressed moan.

“Oh - Oh, now, that ain’t what I meant, sugar.”

Sinclair goes over to put his hands on Delta’s chest, looking up at him with his brow furrowed.

“Now, that girl adores you, an’ you know that. But you understand, kid, that it’s good for her ta be spendin’ time around folks her own age, don’tcha? I dunno ‘bout you, but,” he gives a puff of a laugh, “I can’t relate to what young people are goin’ on about these days. Besides, you don’t wanna find yourself becomin’ another Doc Lamb an’ restrictin’ her on her comings and goings, now do ya?”

Delta lets out another puff of a gasp, straightening up a little.

He hadn’t considered that. Of course, he’d never hold Eleanor prisoner like that - his worries are his worries, and he won’t allow them to affect his parenting - but he also doesn’t want her to be under the impression that she has to stay home for his sake. He can relate, after all, to her desire to see the outside and not be cooped up in here, lovely and spacious as the house is. He is happy she’s made friends and wants to spend time with them, he is, it’s just…well, he’d missed so much time with her when he’d been dead. Makes him want to spend as much time with her as possible.

But Augustus is right - she has her own life, and it is a good thing that she’s spending time with people who aren’t decades her senior. He gets to spend time with her when she’s home, anyway, and none of her friends can say they get to spend that much time with her, in retrospect.

“Plus,” Sinclair says, reaching for Delta’s hand to hold it, “the time she spends outta the house is time you an’ I get by our lonesome, and I should hope that doesn’t sound like such a bad plan, now, does it?”

Delta straightens, briefly worried he’d implied he wouldn’t like that, then his shoulders lift happily as he pulls his hand from Sinclair’s grasp and uses it to cup the side of his face, rumbling softly enough that it could be mistaken for a purr.

Sinclair smiles up at him and places his hand over Delta’s, nuzzling his glove as he says, “Precisely, pumpkin pie. Y’see? It’s a win-win situation, when ya tilt it on its head.”

His smile becomes a smirk.

“Though, while we’re on the topic of romancin’...there might soon be somethin’ else you should quickly get used to, chief.”

Delta tilts at the waist, curious.

“You know it an’ I know it,” Sinclair points towards the doors to gesture to Eleanor, “that there may come a time when Eleanor starts mentionin’ some boy she wants us ta get acquainted with (or some other young lady cause - heh - we ain’t ones ta judge), and you’re gonna hafta act as though you don’t wanna toss that poor thing through an upstairs window.”

Delta lets out a little gasp, then immediately growls, his free hand curling into a fist.

“Ha ha!” Sinclair barks. “Well, now, I was just messin’ with ya, but - you’re really gonna prove yourself as one of those fathers, are ya? Shall I…fetch one of your old shotgun shells so’s you can scratch her sweetheart’s name into it and you can show it to ‘em as a warnin’?”

No, no, he won’t do anything like that. He…understands that Eleanor will start to get…interested in people her age, like how he and Augustus are interested in each other, and he’s…fine with it. He is. It’s normal, it’s a regular part of life, he’s fine with it.

And he won’t deny the person entrance to their home, should Eleanor wish to introduce them to he and Augustus - he’ll just take them aside and ask for every detail of their life that he dubs important (like their hobbies and if they have a criminal record and if they’ve ever wanted a criminal record, and what their intentions are toward his daughter, stuff like that) and then watch them like a hawk for the entire time they’re on the property, in case of any canoodling.

And if they dare to try canoodling with his daughter whilst they’re in his home - why, then he’ll throw them out the (downstairs) window!

(Or, in the very least, make them think he’s going to, since Eleanor would never forgive him if he harmed her…person of interest like that.)

Delta lets out a low huff, displeased, and Sinclair titters.

“Not sure if I’m lookin’ forward to that day or not, now,” he says as he rubs his chin and averts his gaze thoughtfully, then cocks his head and gives Delta a smile. “But how ‘bout for now, sugar, we put the focus on our own whirlwind of a courtship right here, ‘stead of focusin’ on hypotheticals?”

He gives Delta a wink, and Delta perks back up, warbling so delightedly that one might picture cartoon hearts floating about his head.

“You’re speakin’ my thoughts exactly, pumpkin,” Sinclair replies, then starts to tug Delta’s hand toward the living room. “Now, c’mon, let’s see if we can find some flicks on the picturebox or somethin’. Might be that that show you like is on - what was it called, now? The Addams Family?”

Delta grunts to let Sinclair know he’s correct.

“That’s the one. If it ain’t, then we might hafta settle for somethin’ a little scarier, par the course for the holiday. And if that’s the case, then you better make sure you hold me tight, honey,” he cups his own cheek, face creasing up in fake worry, and adds a little more drama to his tone, “cause I might get scared an’ need someone ta bat away the danger. Reckon you could do that for me?”

Delta chuckles, then bypasses Sinclair to sit in his usual spot on the floor, between the couch and the television. He spreads his legs and pats the spot between them to offer it to Augustus.

“Seems like you’re capable,” Sinclair says, then takes Delta’s offer and sits down on the floor between his legs.

Tilting forwards, Delta wraps both arms around him to hold him close, making sure not to lean on him too much lest he hurt Sinclair’s back, then lets out a contented sigh.

“Snug as a bug,” Sinclair says in agreement. “I couldn’t be safer if I tried my hardest.”

He looks over his shoulder to give Delta a smile.

“Happy Halloween, chief - I’m glad this holiday’s worked out so well for ya.”

Delta gives a delighted note of whalesong, sending vibrations through Sinclair’s back, and then reaches over and picks up the remote from where it lays near his thigh. He holds it out to Augustus, who takes it with a thanks.

“Now,” he says, then points the remote at the TV, “let’s see what’s on tonight.”

#My writing #BioShock #BioShock 2 #biofluff 2023 #biofluff #Subject Delta #Augustus Sinclair #Eleanor Lamb #Deltaclair #Topclair

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divine-knight-hand · 7 months

Text

Imagine Looking for Wanda at a Halloween Party

Wanda Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3 Halloween Triple Feature 2023 Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Content Warnings: Some confrontational situations and traces of angst. After that, fluffiness all the way!

Word Count: 2,874

Dividers by @chaosofevil

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our friend, the... pumpkin?" Tony raised a curious eyebrow at my choice of costume.

I wore a round and wide orange top with orange pants and black boots. My cheeks and nose were painted with an orange blush, and a green felt stem sat atop my head with the help of an equally green headband.

"Couldn't even spring for a Jack-o-lantern?” Tony fought off a smile. “You're just a pumpkin?"

"What?" I rolled my eyes. "I had to embrace my inner... pumpkin. Look, at least I didn't show up as myself." I motioned toward Tony's suit.

He came to his own Halloween party as Iron Man. How original.

This year, Tony was holding a Halloween party in the lobby of the tower. Everyone showed up in costume for the festivities. There was fun dance music playing, and spooky decorations all around the room. I wondered how Pepper and Tony managed to fill the room with streamers, cobwebs, plastic spiders, and other seasonal elements overnight.

"Hey, kiddo!" Natasha approached us, waving four of her arms.

She wore a black suit with a red hourglass symbol on her chest. Each side of her suit had four arms hanging off of it, which dramatically swayed with every move she made.

I tried, and failed, to figure out which of her eight arms were real. "Hey, Nat! You're a black widow? That's clever."

"Oh, so it's okay if she comes as herself?" Tony rolled his eyes.

"You're wearing uniform." I retorted. "She's wearing a pun."

Tony playfully scoffed and waved his hand. “Fine. Be that way.”

"By the way,” I changed the topic of conversation. “Have you guys seen Wanda? Did she show, yet?"

"No, I haven't seen your girlfriend." Tony grabbed a glass of champagne off of a butler’s tray as they walked by.

"Me neither." Natasha added. “Sorry, kiddo.”

"Oh, ok." I sighed before Tony’s comment registered to me. "Wait- She's not my girlfriend!" I felt warmth creep into my face. "She's just my best friend."

"That's how it starts." Tony winked as he took a sip of his drink. "That's how it always starts."

I playfully smacked his shoulder, shaking off the resulting pain after the audible contact I made with his suit. "All right, Stark. I'm going to look for her."

“Good luck!” Natasha nodded in my direction. “I’m sure she’ll turn up.”

“Thanks.” I flashed her a small smile before turning to walk away.

"Enjoy the party!" Tony called after me. "And make sure to drink some punch. It's good punch!"

I rolled my eyes, positive that the “punch” had traces of alcohol, but went to the snack table to pour myself some anyway. The glass bowl on the table was full of blood-red liquid, and I used the ladle inside to pour some into a red plastic cup. Once I was satisfied, I stepped to the side, walking right into a large figure next to me.

"Oh! Sorry." I turned to see Thor.

He was a very buff Pop-Tart, though the muscles were courtesy of his physique, rather than the costume shop.

"Hey, Thor!” I softly chuckled at the comical sight in front of me. “I love your costume."

"Thank you!" Thor grinned. "You look wonderful, as well. It would seem we both arrived as our favorite foods."

"Yeah, I guess we did.” I returned his smile showing less teeth. “Hey, have you seen Wanda anywhere?"

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen her." Thor frowned. "Have you tried asking Stark?"

"Yeah." I sighed. "Well, thanks anyway, Thor. Enjoy the party."

"You too!" Thor waved before I walked away, sipping on my definitely alcoholic punch.

I dodged dancers, sidestepped those in conversation, and passed groups of people that overall made me wonder how many of Tony’s friends were real, and how many only showed up to the party in search of some of his wealth and fame.

It was then that I found Clint talking to Bruce on the other side of the room. Clint had come dressed as a vampire, while Bruce was decorated in a skeleton costume.

I approached them with a smile. "Hey, guys! How are you?"

"Hi!" Bruce made a small wave at me. "We're doing fine."

"Yeah," Clint added. "We were just wondering how many friends Tony has here. Real friends, not associates or sponsors or random rich people."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "I was just thinking that, too!"

Bruce sheepishly smiled. "I guess great minds think alike."

"I hate to cut our meet-up short," I went on, "But, have either of you seen Wanda?"

Clint thought for a moment. "I thought I saw her on the other side of the room." He motioned across the room with one hand.

"Yeah," Bruce added. "She was talking to Thor's brother, wasn't she?"

"Ugh." I would have facepalmed had I not been worried about messing up my makeup. "Why the hell would Tony invite Loki?"

"Sour much?" Clint smirked at my resulting scowl. "He's here by Thor's request, and on the promise to not cause any mischief."

“As if he would actually hold to that standard. ” I rolled my eyes. "Do you think she's still over there?"

Clint shrugged. "Not sure."

"I hope you find her." Bruce bashfully scratched the back of his neck.

"Thanks." I started to walk away. "You guys enjoy the party."

I took a deep breath before heading towards the one corner of the room I had yet to explore. The crowd noticeably thinned as I neared the wall.

"What vivid colors for a plain character such as yourself." I rolled my eyes as the familiar voice purred.

I turned to him, only to be met with a black, green, and gold Asgardian tunic, topped with a wicked smirk. So much for being subtle.

“Loki!” I forced a smile. "You came dressed as a witch. A little cliché of a costume, don't you think?"

Loki's cocky smirk dipped for an instant before lifting back up. "Not everyone has original ideas such as your seasonal gourd."

"Actually, a pumpkin is a fruit." I proudly grinned. "I'm sure an intelligent man such as yourself can tell the difference between a fruit and a gourd." I mentally high-fived myself for having researched random pumpkin facts last night to really get into character.

Loki scowled. "Of course I can tell the difference! You simply don't wear food items well. That’s all."

"And you don't wear anger very well, princess." I teased. "So, I heard you were talking to Wanda earlier. Is that right?"

"Yes," Loki's smirk returned, paired with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just as I've heard that you've been looking for her all night. Correct?"

"Well, yeah." A sour feeling settled into my stomach—the same one I usually got right before Loki would screw me over. "Can you point me in the direction she went?"

"Well, I could," Loki nonchalantly examined his perfectly manicured nails. "But I might not."

The frustration that had been building up inside me started to slowly seep out. "Loki, I swear-"

"Ah-ah-ah..." Loki held up his pointer finger to silence me. "You wouldn't want to make a scene at Stark's perfect party, would you?"

I stopped to think for a moment. Tony was an annoying person, but that annoying person also happened to be my friend, and I didn’t want to do anything to hurt him if I could help it.

I tried to quell the fire in my stomach. "I guess not."

Loki slowly approached me as his smirk widened into a sadistic grin. "I suppose I could point you in the direction of your lost friend... if you agreed to assist me with a small request."

"No." I scowled. "I'll just find her myself."

I turned to storm off when Loki grabbed my upper arm and spun me around, yanking me toward him. “Let’s not be too hasty, now, pet.”

“I’m not your pet.” I growled through clenched teeth. “Let. Me. Go. NOW!”

I grew a little embarrassed as a few partygoers turned to look at us, but I didn’t back down from my stance.

“What happened to not making a scene?” He muttered as he reluctantly released my arm.

“Trust me.” I started. "You’d know if I caused a scene. And, if you think, even for a second, that I'm going to let you use me for whatever trick or plot you want me to do, you’re sorely mistaken."

“Is that so?” Loki’s expression grew dark. “Then I suppose you care not to find your little friend.”

“You’re worse than useless!” I was practically bursting at the seams. “Nobody can stand you, you know that? Your games only ever hurt people. So, yeah, I’ll take the risk finding Wanda myself, since the last person who played into your tricks and mind games wound up dead.” I resisted the urge to clap a hand over my mouth. I definitely took that way too far…

Loki scowled, but his eyes were clearly filled with hurt. “You know not what you speak of, Midgardian."

"Just stay away from me." I turned to walk away.

I only made it a few paces before I heard Loki's voice call from behind me. "Your friend is outside. She left in need of fresh air after we exchanged words."

I turned back in time to see Loki's backside as he walked away. I debated just following his instructions to where Wanda was, but I knew I couldn’t after pressing his wounds like I did. Instead, I rushed after him.

"Loki?" I softly called when I finally caught up to him. When he didn’t respond, I tried calling louder. "Loki?"

"I can hear you, mortal." He faced me with a dark expression. "I just wish I couldn't."

“That's fair.” I sighed. “I just couldn’t leave without apologizing for disrespecting you. I really crossed a line back there. I’m sorry."

An expression of shock crossed Loki's face, followed by a flash of sadness, before he began to seem unbothered. "I… appreciate your apology. I suppose I should return the sentiment. Though I do tend to derive pleasure whenever your face makes that scrunched-up scowl as the result of your vexation, it may not be the most... ethical method of entertaining myself."

"And bringing out your baggage might not have been the best way to handle it." I held my hand out to him. "Truce?"

Loki skeptically raised an eyebrow at me before taking my hand in his. "Very well. No more… pranks... at least for the time being."

I smirked. "Watch it, Odinson. I might pump-kick your butt if you go back on our truce."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Oh, the puns from you, girl."

I laughed and started making my way toward the door. "Enjoy the party, Loki."

"You, as well." He called after me.

I began weaving through the crowd to get to the door. I finally made it and pushed the door open with a sudden urgency. I had a feeling that I needed to find Wanda as soon as possible.

There were more rich people outside who didn’t even bother dressing up for Tony’s Halloween party. As they let the outside air fill with their dry, ingenuine laughter, I pushed through crowds of them, earning myself dirty looks from people who had higher net worths than me.

But, that didn’t matter. I had to find Wanda.

”Wanda?!” I called, “Wanda?! Where are you?”

I shoved through more people in suits and costumes as I frantically scanned the area for red hair, ignoring the rude comments from people around me. As I made my way farther from the tower, the crowd began thinning.

Suddenly, a small voice called my name loud enough for me to just barely hear it.

I turned to the source of the sound to see Wanda, hiding away from the partygoers with an anxious expression. “Wanda!”

She wore a bright red bodysuit with a headdress and cape that sported similar crimson hues. I wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be dressed as, but she was gorgeous.

I noticed her visibly shaking as I ran up to her. “Wanda? What happened? Did Loki do something to you?” I already felt the urge to go back on our earlier truce creeping in. “Because, I swear, I’m gonna-”

”No!” Wanda cut off my threat, which was lucky for me, since I had no idea how to effectively threaten a literal demigod. “Loki did nothing wrong, I promise.”

My rage quickly shifted to guilt for getting so easily distracted. Focus on Wanda, damnit!

I placed my hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong, then? Are you alright?”

She sighed, looking at me with watery eyes. “I’m scared… I’m terrified.” She sniffled. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Wanda,” I frowned, trying not to picture the pathetic image of a ghoulish pumpkin trying to console a weeping… whatever Wanda was dressed as. “Whatever you’re afraid of, you can talk to me. I promise, I can help you get through it.”

Wanda sniffled again and ran a delicate gloved hand across her face to catch runaway tears. “It’s just… All night, I’ve been hiding. I’ve been… secretive. I want to tell the one person who should know, but I’m afraid.” She shuddered. “And I thought, If I never tell them, I’ll exist in this limbo forever. But if I do…”

“They might not respond in the way that you want?” I breathlessly asked. Wanda wordlessly nodded.

It was in that moment that I took her in with my eyes. She truly was gorgeous. Her wide brown eyes. Her soft pink lips. The way her headdress framed her round face. The way her costume conformed to the curves of her body. She was gorgeous.

I didn’t lie to Tony earlier. Wanda wasn’t my girlfriend…

…But it didn’t change the fact that I wished she was.

It was true that I was infatuated by Wanda’s beauty, but I was also in love with her mind and personality, so seeing her this upset crushed me.

”Wanda,” I breathed. “It hurts me to see you this way. There’s only one word of advice I can give you: Stay strong. No matter how it turns out, just tell them what you need to tell them. No matter what, I’ll be here for you. And if they’re a good person, they’ll be good to you, too.”

Wanda gulped, “I can’t do that…”

”Yes, you can.” I urged. “I know you can. You can do anything.”

Wanda sniffled. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

My blood ran cold. “I’m the person you’re trying to tell something to?” She wordlessly nodded once again. “Wanda,” I nervously chuckled. “You can tell me anything.”

She looked like she wanted to say what she was dying to say, but shook her head. “I’m not as brave as you.”

”Maybe I’m not brave, either.” I spoke without thinking. Wanda cocked her head in confusion and I just continued before I could hesitate. “You can’t idolize my bravery if I wasn’t brave enough to reveal my own secret to you.” I grabbed her hands and took a deep breath. “Wanda Maximoff…” There was an expectant glint of what seemed to be hope in her eyes when I paused. “I love you. I love you so much, and I-“

Before I could finish my declaration, Wanda cut me off with a kiss. She wrapped her arms around my neck and shoved her tongue in my mouth. I greedily took it in my own as I moved my hands along her waist to the small of her back, one hand reaching up to her hair. I dreamt about a moment like this for so long, and I wanted this to last forever, but Wanda and I eventually had to break for air.

We were both still gasping when Wanda breathed. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

I smirked and opened my arms. “Then come here and pump-kiss me again.” We both visibly cringed at my horrible pumpkin pun before bursting into laughter.

“That was really bad.” Wanda giggled.

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” I smirked. “You’re going to be hearing those for the rest of the night.”

Wanda warmly smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.” She wrapped her arm around my waist. “I can’t wait to party with my new gourd-friend.” She winked.

I laughed at her pun, too content to correct her with the fact that a pumpkin was a fruit, not a gourd. Speaking of corrections…

“Hey, Wanda,” I began. “Can I ask you a question?” She nodded. “What’s your costume?”

“Oh!” She seemed to come alive with a newfound excitement. “This old thing?” She let my waist go to twirl in a circle and toss her cape with a flourish. “I’m dressed as a Sokovian fortune teller!”

“I love it!” I grinned, holding my arm out to her. “So, what’s in store for me and my new lover?”

She giggled as she locked my arm in hers. “Our future is yet to be determined, detka, but it’s looking bright.”

She leaned in to give me a peck on the lips before we made our way back to the party.

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