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astroboots · 10 months

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Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

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"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying.

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation.

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over.

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains.

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all.

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe.

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is.

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table, not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise.

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence.

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye.

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it.

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth.

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them.

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks.

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air.

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly.

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw.

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you.

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both.

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card.

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this?

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time.

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask.

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive.

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest.

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on.

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again.

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open.

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room.

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that.

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.”

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest.

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can.

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again.

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time.

You want him to stay.

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question.

Please stay.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.”

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet.

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before.

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service.

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down.

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left.

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you.

The Universe.

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds?

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you.

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors.

You really wished he had stayed with you.

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you.

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found.

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream.

"Miguel!”

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for.

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more.

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?"

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other.

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit.

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork.

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment.

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you.

Except it doesn’t.

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing.

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying?

Fuck!

You can’t sleep.

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is.

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside. It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost. You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 1 year

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Some little details you might have missed in Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom

(Maybe part one?)

When discussing the Ice Court Heist at the start of the book Wylan explains that he speaks Fjerdan and although Jesper teases that he probably isn’t very good at it, the fact that Wylan has been to the Ice Court at least once before would beg to differ; as a diplomatic meeting it would probably be considered impolite if he and his family didn’t speak at least some Fjerdan when being hosted by what I assume to have been the royal family or at least higher-ups in the Fjerdan government. However, when he’s drawing up plans of the Court on the boat, Kaz asks why nothing is labelled and Wylan says “I don’t know Fjerdan”. He does, in fact, know Fjerdan (and it’s confirmed later that he speaks it well), but he is hiding the fact that he cannot write

In the Bathroom Scene™️ Kaz says that Inej’s tell is the way she squares her shoulders before making a move, “as if you’re waiting for the audience’s attention”. When Kaz goes to the slat in the next chapter, after the fight he squares his shoulders before making his speech to launch a coup against Per Haskell. I think this is really interesting and it absolutely shows what Inej realises at the time, that “the fight was just the opening act” but this, the talking and the convincing and the persuasion, this is Kaz’s superpower. I think this is so interesting and says so much about him, but it’s also a great Kanej parallel. More than any character I can think of, Kaz absolutely embodies the quote “I discovered at a very young age that if I talked for long enough I could prove anything right or wrong, so either I’m god or truth is relative. And either way, boo-yah” (which by the way is a quote from the brilliant sitcom Community)

This is my favourite Wesper parallel: in soc when Wylan uses a bomb to save them from the parem-drugged fabricator, Jesper says “Wylan earned his keep”. Wylan replies “Did I?” and Jesper says “Well, you made a downpayment”. At the end of Crooked Kingdom when the pair are able to go back to Wylan’s house because Van Eck has been arrested, Wylan asks Jesper if he really meant it when he said that he would stay and help run the business by reading to him, and Jesper says of course, but “I charge a pretty steep fee”. Wylan blushes and replies “well I hope the medik is here to fix my ribs soon, because I’d like to make a downpayment”. THEY’RE SO GODDAMN ADORABLE

This one I think is something people just forget, but Nina and Matthias are heavily implied to have slept together on Black Veil when they got from Ravkan embassy. The pair go to get changed and reappear “rumpled and rosy several long minutes later”. Jesper laughs when he sees them- he says “Staying on task?” to which Nina replies “I’m teaching Matthias all about fun. He is an excellent student, diligent in his studies” as Matthias gets progressively more and more embarrassed. But yeah I’ve never seen anyone talk about it I think people just forget

#grishaverse #leigh bardugo #six of crows #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #kanej #wesper #helnik #the crows #crow club #ketterdam #kuwei yul bo #shadow and bone

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biceratops7 · 11 months

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… let’s talk about “Arrival”

So I was fully intending on making a more general but thorough peruse through the new Good Omens title sequence, because my FUCK aren’t those always a gold mine. But then I thought to myself, “hey wait a minute, I can be even more unhinged and on brand.”

Something I’ve seen nobody talk about yet is that the movie that the procession is marching into is The Arrival, which is a 90’s movie that draws a pretty straightforward parallel. But I think if it doubles as a reference to 2016’s Arrival, THAT has some much more interesting implications. Either way this reference is doing some heavy lifting.

For those who haven’t seen the movie (or that one philosophy tube video about it lol), the basic plot is that a group of aliens later named heptopods arrive on earth scattered across the world, and just kind of invite humanity to check them out. Each country hires a team of linguists who are all tasked with figuring out what the visitors are here for. But the thing is, it’s only about aliens on the surface level. This is really about communicating, cooperation, and how language holds the power to alter your very fabric of reality.

Spoilers for the movie:

Two major revelations occur towards the end of the movie. The first is that an element of fluid time is revealed. Throughout the movie, the main American linguist has been having flashbacks to a daughter that passed away of an illness. But since the heptopod language has no regard for chronological order, we learn that these are actually flash-forwards when she becomes nearly fluent. In other words, learning heptopod, having a genuine curiosity and even compassion for these vastly different beings. has given her the ability to perceive reality in ways thought previously impossible.

Even before noticing the Arrival reference, I’ve been side eyeing these “flashbacks”, but this and the image above confirmed it for me. Any instance of the word “becoming” when talking about the past indicates some sort of fluid time nonsense. The past is fixed unless something ✨happens✨. I don’t think these are simply memories, I think something rather cosmic instead is afoot.

But it’s more than just “there’s probably time travel in this” though. Simply having Aziraphale as a companion has changed Crowley. It’s given him an ability that he’s not meant to be capable of as a demon. He already had it in him to be good and have mutual relationships based in trust and kindness, I’m sure all demons can if given the right nurture… but Crowley is experiencing love. In the show, something tangible to the senses and distinctly angelic. I’m very much hoping that that whole element of things is going to somehow be a driving factor in what’s occurring over all, and possibly involved in time going screwy.

The other element of Arrival’s ending that’s of import, is the heavy emphasis on the importance of cooperation. First of all, we learn at some point that not every country has the same message to decipher, they each have one piece of a whole. Some of the countries begin using games to communicate with their heptopods, and this poses a problem because it causes messages to be more easily interpreted as hostile. For example, the phrase “we brought a tool” can be easily misconstrued as “we have a weapon.” Eventually, the world gets impatient and scared, and a war is imminent. What finally leads to everyone putting down arms and cooperating, is the American linguist sending a message to the Chinese linguist saying “in war, there are no victors, only widows.”

Something noteworthy about this particular march is that the procession never splits like it does at the end of the first season’s. Not only are both angelic and demonic figures marching into the light atop a mountain as a United front, but this actually seems to be a theme this season. Heaven and Hell aren’t working together as far as we know, but they are at least working towards the same goal, which for some reason is getting Gabriel’s ass. There is also a heavy emphasis on mending broken relationships, with Crowley and Azirphale trying to fix a (probably) lesbian couple literally being the B plot.

Now this is where we bring in what’s actually on the movie screen, which is that damn box. So at this point we know basically nothing about it accept for it probably being a Mcguffin. But we DO have the imagery of three feathers, a black one, a white one, and a bluish grey one, falling into it… and it sure as fuck looks like a moving box. So back to arrival, what actually was the message? The heptopods told the linguist that they’re here to help humanity (via giving them a tool or new tech I think?) because in 3,000 years, they will need humanity’s help. So with this and the world eventually being inspired to stand down and share their pieces of the message, it’s this over arching theme of setting aside fear of the other and cooperating indefinitely for the benefit of the whole. The black feather, the white feather… and then something that is somehow both yet entirely unique.

I think… somehow, someway, this season may culminate in Heaven and Hell reconciling. Whether it be against a common enemy, for a shared goal, or in love, there seems to be many clues both symbolic and literal that show them learning to be one again. Learning to understand eachother’s language and see new ways of being neither before could fathom.

#by the way the last image (not the meme) are Aziraphale and Crowley circling eachother in a dance like pattern… like twin stars…#so close they may from a great distance appear as one…#good omens #season 2 #speculation #meta #analysis #ineffable husbands #Aziraphale #Crowley #arrival 2016 #season 2 title sequence #biceratops

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bloodblotz · 2 months

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Task From Heaven

Hazbin Hotel x Angel!Reader

Post Hazbin Hotel Season 1

The reader is an angel from heaven tasked by the Heavenly Courtroom to aid the Hazbin Hotel and its goal on rehabilitating Sinners.

Part 2

You sit on the edge of your bed, admiring the decor and wondering just how much red could be used before it became too much.

The red carpets, bed covers, and wallpapers stare at you.

Apparently not a lot for an angel like you and a lot for Hell. Just another thing you’d have to get used to, alongside the heat, smell, and the people.

A rapid knock comes to your door but before you can get up to answer the knocker bursts into the door instead. You blink in surprise as the princess comes to view, a smile spread across her rosy cheeks.

“Y/N! Hey, so sorry to just bust through in like this but—” she takes a moment to skip in place, squealing quietly to herself. “Ooh, I’m just so excited! To think that Heaven finally sees what I’m trying to do here is just— so, darn, exciting!”

You smile, unsure of what else you could do.

“Oh, sorry!” The princess gasps, bringing a hand to mouth as she takes in your blank expression. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I just wanted to see how you were settling in!”

Your smile turns into something a little closer to sincerity. “It’s very kind of you to give me a room of my own.”

Charlie’s rosy cheeks turns even rosier at the praise. “Oh, it’s the least we could do.” She looks at you for a second, brimming with joy. “I’m just so— so… happy you’re helping out at the hotel. I still can’t believe that Heaven is helping us out.” She guffaws.

“Of course, your highness. Sinners are still human souls, no matter how tainted. It’s Heaven’s responsibility to still treat them with the care we hold for the rest of Father’s creations.”

Charlie’s face flickers, her once joyful attitude turning to something more bitter. The sudden change in emotion makes you tilt your head, but she then takes a deep breath.

“You don’t have to call me ‘your highness’. Call me Charlie! Everyone does.”

You blink. To refer to such a high status individual by their first name? Well, who were you to tell her what she should be called or not.

In a way, Charlie reminds you a bit of Emily. Their insistence on the redemption of Sinners and cheerful attitude draws a lot of parallels that make you homesick.

“I believe that it’s time to introduce everyone to you! Since— you know, you’re now a part of the Hazbin Hotel.”

“Yes, that would be wise. It’d do good to know who I’ll be working with.”

Charlie beams.

Soon everyone is gathered at the parlour, waiting in silence as Charlie begins introductions. Charlie first slings an arm over the long haired woman who glowers at you. “This is Vaggie! Say hi,” she says the last bit towards Vaggie, noticing the scowl on her face and rubbing her cheek against hers. Vaggie noticeably softens at the touch. Cute.

“Hi.” Vaggie says, arms crossing. Her distrust reveals itself through her taut shoulders and hard expression. Charlie chuckles nervously at the tone as she moves on to a man with spider-like features.

“This is our only resident at the moment,” something mournful crosses her eyes. You remember that the other resident is in Heaven and wonder what’s there to be sad about? The sombreness is quickly vanquished, with her face lighting back up at full force. “Angel Dust.”

The man flashes a coy smile and a wave at you. “Heyya, baby.” His expression is flirtatious but you notice that he is just as tense as Vaggie.

“These are Husk and Niffty, employees at the hotel.” The ruffled cat doesn’t even signify you with a greeting except a slight tilt of his head as he gives you a scrutinizing look.

You look for the one-eyed woman that Charlie referred to as Niffty but she is nowhere to be seen, and it’s not because she’s short. Your eyes land on Charlie’s wide eyes when you feel something crawling up your back. A quick glance reveals that Niffty is on your shoulder trying to touch your halo.

“Niffty, no!” Charlie quickly snatches her off your shoulders, flashing you a nervous grin as she hands off the squirming Sinner to Vaggie. “I am sooo sorry, I—”

You put a quiet hand up to silence her and flash her a polite smile. “It’s alright. No harm done here.” Your placating response calms Charlie down just a bit as she turns to the last person who had been standing at the back for quite some time now.

“And this is Alastor, our host to the hotel.” Charlie proudly states, smiling at the other. “Without him, none of this would have been possible.”

Alastor smiles at you, a wide smile that couldn’t possibly be sincere, as he materializes in front of you in a vapour of black static. “What a pleasure to have an angel in our cohorts! To think that Heaven is actually taking an interest in Charlie’s unique dream is bringing me such delight.”

The way his eyes scan over you makes you feel uneasy. There’s a certain calculating gleam that you know that often ends in something sinister. You swallow down your suspicion and give him back a cordial smile.

“And I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to be of your acquaintance.” You look to the group. “I hope that we can all get along.”

“Likewise.” Alastor’s voice gleefully crackles in response whilst the others stare awkwardly at you, not quite knowing what else there is to say. Charlie looks on happily.

Introductions have gone pretty great, all things considered.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Parts:

1 2 3

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin niffty #hazbin alastor #charlie morningstar #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #angel!reader #post season 1

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

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The DUFF 11

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

You pull out a drawer from the counter, taking in the quaint kitchen space. A set of french doors look out onto another sprawl of wilderness, a wooden bench draped in vines, and a round table with carved chairs set around it. You slide it shut as you part to get a better glimpse of the dimming sky.

A spec of moisture lands on the top pane, then another, and another. The rain taps off the glass and blur your vision as you stare out. The clouds have finally broken and the sky darkens much earlier than usual.

You don’t hear Curtis until he’s almost right beside you. He rests his hand on the wooden trim around the glass and exhales. As he watches the downpour, it grows heavier and a roll of thunder shakes the house.

“I thought we’d beat the storm,” he says as he drags his other hand over his hair, “sorry, bun. Bad timing.”

“We’ll wait it out,” you assure him as you back away, hugging yourself as the rain sends a chill through the cracks. “I’m sure it won’t last long.”

He faces you and his lips curve slightly. He stares at you with a glint of admiration in his pale irises. He touches your cheek and leans in to kiss your forehead.

“So, what do you think? You like the place?”

“It’s nice,” you answer, “very nice. I can’t believe you can afford all this.”

“Ah, it’s not very expensive. Small compared to most,” he shrugs and shifts to stand parallel with you again. He slips his arm over your shoulders, “it’s nice to get out of the city. Away from the restaurant.”

“Restaurant?” You echo curiously.

“Work,” he says dully, “long nights, hot kitchen, not exactly relaxing.”

“Huh,” you tap your lip thoughtfully.

“What?” He asks as he nuzzles the side of your head.

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, you’re a way better cook than I am,” you giggle, “I guess I should’ve asked sooner.”

“I haven’t exactly given you a chan–”

A clap of thunder booms and the sky lights up. Curtis quickly backs you away from the door as you let out a startled yelp. Holy! He curls his arm around you and pulls you in tight.

“You okay, bunny?”

“Yeah, yeah, just… that was loud,” you babble.

The rain pelts against the doors, rattling them as the sky turns almost black. You can’t believe how quickly the weather’s turned. You hope it passes quickly.

“Let’s stay away from the windows,” he girds as he leads you back through the kitchen, “I can get a fire going in the front room until it’s clear. There’s some puzzles too.”

“So,” you peer around, “you come here often?”

“Haven’t had the chance yet. I’ve just been fixing it up, moving in… summer isn’t here just yet.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the first person I’ve shown.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have anyone else to share it with,” he takes you to the couch and lets you go.

You sit and he draws the blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it around you. You thank him with a smile and he strokes your cheek gently. He turns away and gets down to his knees before the fireplace. He works at stacking the wood as your eyes skitter around the room. For such a new place, it looks well lived-in.

🐰

You check the time on your phone. It’s almost ten and the storm is still blowing. You shake your head and put your cell face down beside the border of the puzzle. You take a piece but aren’t really paying attention to the patches of those already connected.

“Something the matter?” Curtis asks as the fire crackles and flickers in the warm space.

“Just thinking about work,” you rest your chin on your hand and try to push the piece into another, “gonna be a late ride back.”

“Uh, yeah,” he hums, “you know, bun, I don’t know if we’ll be able to get back tonight. I wouldn’t want to get in an accident. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

“I can’t stay. I have to work at like eight.”

“I know, bunny, but… it’s too dangerous. The roads out here aren’t maintained and there’s no lights.”

You huff and sit back as you drop the puzzle piece. Shoot. He’s right. You’d feel horrible if something happened and all for what? Work? You just weren’t prepared to be stranded here. You just want to be home in your own bed.

“We can try leaving early,” he offers, “or you can call your work and let them know you’ll be late.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” you pick up your phone again but frown at the status bar. “If I have service then.”

“Should come back once the storm is gone,” Curtis assures. He’s strangely calm, even with the wailing just on the other side of the door.

“Right,” you mutter.

He’s quiet as he puts a piece into place. You set your phone down again and stare at your palm, tracing the lines as you think. You’re lost in your mind, in going back to the standard Monday to Friday. This short weekend has felt like an endless dream, sometimes skewed, other times disarming.

“What’s wrong?” Curtis asks in a deep rasp.

You pop your head up and shake it, “nothing, just… guess I’m just spacing out.”

“You think I knew or something? Forecast said the storm was coming at 4am. I didn’t wanna be stuck out here either.”

“I know, I didn’t…. Didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it, weren’t you?”

“No,” you pout, “no, I was just thinking about work. What I’m going to tell my boss.”

“Your boss? I’ll take care of him if I have to. Tell him it’s all my fault.”

“Yeah, I… guess.”

“Just, you’re here with me,” he insists, “so why don’t you enjoy it.”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #au #drabble #series #the DUFF

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bunnygirllover45 · 3 months

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wait… so obvs seth is jesus, so are the other characters’ positions inspired by the 12 apostles in the og painting by da vinci? i’m guessing it’s his rendition, mostly based on the hand gestures and facial expression from seth and kurosaki and yotatsuya’s poses mimicking john and peter in the painting (there’s no judas parallel in the sketch which is really interesting;;), however the other two don’t seem to resemble any of the right side of the painting so maybe i’m wrong? nyway - does it mean anything? or am i overthinking it (<- probably this one tbh ldjd)

Holy shit you're so spot on anon. Yeah! it's inspired by the Last Supper. The Judas parallel thing is interesting, because yeah that's missing, maybe someone else was meant to represent him but he's gone now, who knows. (?) The drawing is already done and posted in my Patreon, but here's a small portion of the finished thing :)

#I shouldn't lore dump abt my vn on my second acc #but who cares #love when you guys make little theories with my art #so lovely #chrona... answers things?#dies irae vn

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charmac · 1 year

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The Always Sunny Podcast has successfully pushed the Season 5 rewatches far enough that there is no way they can get to The D.E.N.N.I.S System before Season 16 premieres.

When this is all purposeful, it’s always been purposeful, not doing the podcast for a month without really saying why… “working on Season 16” Glenn was in Hawaii. Then the live shows conveniently breaking it up further… They could have done a few, they used to just hop on Zoom when one of them was away and get it done. And can we talk about the pre-recorded one? I’m dying to talk about the fact that they went and pre-recorded ONE. They had to get one in before, they were running out of time…

And they’re talking about the movies, the movies, sure, the movies are important who doesn’t want to talk about their movies? Hear about their movies?

But now look where we landed, with this, talking about the movies. That pushes the rewatch perfectly. Now, they do one rewatch episode a week (Meg has promised they’re committed to doing so) and where do we land? Count it out…

Mac and Dennis Break Up lands on June 5.

1601 and 1602 premiere June 7.

The D.E.N.N.I.S. System rewatch will be June 12.

It all means something it’s all in line, they have this down, definitely, I’m absolutely not just going crazy here, there was a break for a reason and now this. We’ll go into Ep 1 & 2 right off the MADBU podcast, and then we’ll get the D.E.N.N.I.S System for men and then, after that airs, they’ll go into the rewatch for the OG D.E.N.N.I.S System, and they waited all this time, delay delay delay, so they can draw all the parallels and talk about it right alongside the episode.

Macdennis. D.E.N.N.I.S System for Men. The structure.

Do you understand how insanely buzzed I feel right now? We’re going into Season 16 immediately off the MADBU podcast and then going right into The D.E.N.N.I.S System rewatch knowing (and probably maybe hopefully already seeing) the new D.E.N.N.I.S System in action. And RCG know this, they’ve filmed it, they’ve cut it, they’ve seen it. The rewatch delay seems so intentional, like they have so so so much to say…

#iasip #sunnys super sweet 16 #TASP #idk i’m just being annoying this morning i think #BUT EITHER WAY #we’re gonna get them doing the dennis system rewatch pod right after dennis system 2 electric boogaloo heheheheheeh

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jjsmaybank20 · 1 year

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Stargazing

Wanda Maximoff x fem!Odinson!Reader

Summary: the six times you embarrass yourself in front of Wanda Maximoff, and the one time you impress her.

Warnings: None! all fluff

Word Count: 8.6k

navigation marvel masterlist

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Terra, Midgard, Earth. All are among the names of the small planet that apparently, you’ve been called too. You know of both your brothers’ fascination with the place and its inhabitants. Humans, you believe they’re called.

Personally you’ve never had any interaction with the terrene, but the stories brought back by Thor of his travels there and the amusing nature of humans happened to peak your interest.

Unfortunately you’ve never had the time or warrant to go, your brother’s might providing sufficient power to defend the tiny planet. Today though, luck just happens to be in your favor when you’re informed of his new quest: chasing knowledge of the infinity stones across the galaxy.

It’s a beautiful day on Asgard, as it always is, the sun shining happily upon your home and its people. A gentle breeze swishes the golden cape you adorn back and forth as you make your way towards the Bifrost where Heimdall is expecting you. The light glints pleasantly off of the light silver of your armor, the darker blues that accent it contrasting nicely.

There’s some mission waiting for you on some allied planet of Asgard. Negotiations, politics, diplomatic relations, etc. are all part of keeping the Nine Realms in order, and you’re Odin’s chosen one to handle it all. As the god of light, joy, and purity you radiate a natural beauty and charm that gives you the ability to, say, persuade any rivals of your father’s into benefiting the king.

In other words you’re his little errand girl tasked with mopping up any of the All-Father’s messes, of which there are plenty. He’s most definitely not well known for his graciousness or patience. It’s not ideal, show ponying around in order to maintain peace, but your job is necessary for the preservation of Asgard. Your work of amity and harmony has gained you a reputation as the golden girl of Asgard, a figurehead for beauty and allure, a juxtaposition to your brother Loki, and a parallel to Thor.

Might you occasionally take advantage of this draw? Perhaps, but where would be the fun of possessing this power of magnetism if you couldn’t use it to attract some attention? In this way you are also known as a bit of a player, as you would come to know it on Earth. This label doesn’t bother you much, in fact it only seems to increase your larger than life prestige, somehow making people even more enamored by you.

Case in point, as you stride into the domed Bifrost a guard comes crashing into you from around the corner, causing you both to fall to the ground. You’re quicker on your feet than the other lady, who, as you offer your hand to help her up, is quite beautiful. She has black hair that looks impossibly soft on top of her head and round brown eyes that stare up at you in surprise. You flash her a disarming grin as you help her up, one that works to fluster her as she looks down to brush imaginary dirt from her clothes.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she apologizes quickly, her face reddening from a mix of embarrassment and bashfulness.

“It’s quite alright,” you assure, nodding your head and offering a flirtatious smirk upon noticing how easily the woman blushes. “Just be more careful next time, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours.” A wink this time for good measure, sending her off after her friend down the bridge. You make a mental note to find the name of that guard later, and to pay her a visit when you do.

“When you’re done trying to seduce another guardswoman will you get over here,” a deep voice calls out from the center of the room.

“I’m just having a moment of fun before I go off to talk politics for the next few days. It’s boring, Heimdall. And I need something to look forward to when I get back.” A shrug accompanies your words as you cross the space toward him, the pair of daggers along your belt jostling as you move.

“Actually, you’re going to Midgard. Thor has requested your assistance with keeping watch over the people there. He’s departing soon and wants you to take over for him.”

At that you cock an eyebrow, this could prove to be at least mildly interesting. While the planet is far behind the majority of the galaxy technologically speaking, and its inhabitants are rather tiny, there has to be a reason for your brother’s fondness of the place; a hidden charm that you want to seek. “What are we waiting for then? I’ve got a planet to defend.”

He shakes his head at you as he opens the Bifrost, “Oh, and did I mention I’m dropping you into the middle of a fight?”

“What!?” You turn to him with an incredulous look on your face, barely glimpsing the devious smirk on his before you’re hurtling through the portal.

One

Unprepared for the landing, you crash into the ground in a flash of burning light, which thankfully clears some of the space around you as you fall onto your face. “Not cool Heimdall,” you mutter, shaking your head and getting on your feet.

You look around to see exactly where you are and what you’re dealing with. You’re in a city, one that looks terribly worse for wear as people run about, tripping over debris from the ruined buildings around you. A child stops and stares at you, and you realize how out of place you must look, standing alone in the middle of the war torn street, your shiny armor glaring harshly amidst the dust and smoke. Ash covers the sky, pulling a gray blanket over the atmosphere and you instantly miss the clear day back on Asgard.

Your little staring contest with the girl is broken when you spot something moving behind her, aiming to shoot her where she stands. “Watch out!” You yell as you lift your arm and allow a beam of white light to blast from your palm, melting a neat hole through the robot’s head.

“Are you okay?” You ask as you run up to the kid, putting your hands up to show you’re not going to hurt her. When all you receive is a blank look in return, you realize that wherever you are they don’t speak English, giving you no way to verbally communicate with her. “Um, just. Here.” You hold your hand out for her to take and together you run through the town, with you shooting down robots as you go.

There seems to be an endless amount of the droids, and you constantly have to maneuver the child behind you and out of harm’s way as you race down the street. It’s quieter over here though compared to where you’re headed, following the sound of gunfire as you’re eager to find your brother and figure out what is going on. Surely once you do he can explain everything and you can deposit this small human into someone else’s custody.

Eventually you spot a red cape, similar to the one you wear through the chaos. “Brother!” You shout and wave your hand. He’s fighting off a horde of the androids, throwing his hammer around and leaving nothing but broken parts in his wake. Fighting next to him is a group of humans, all wearing colorful costumes and suits. You spot a man with a huge circular shield, one flying around in a metal suit, and even a giant green monster. At your call they all stop for a second and look at you as you rush toward them, child still in tow.

“Ah, I see Heimdall got my message and sent you here. Good to see you sister,” Thor greets, grasping your forearm in acknowledgment.

“Thor, who is this?” The blonde beside him asks, chest heaving from the fight.

“Well this is my sister, Y/N Odinson.”

At the mention of your relation to your brother the man stills, eyeing you with wariness. You’re confused until you remember Loki’s attack on Midgard a few years ago. This must be one of Earth’s champions who had fought him off.

“I’m here to help,” you insist, pointing to the frightened child you’ve collected on the way. “Look, I've brought you one of your younglings.” A beaming smile overtakes your face as you transfer the girl over to the soldier’s care.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” A synthetic voice rings from the air above you, and you finally notice the giant robot hovering over the group. “I was kind of in the middle of my big villain speech,” he snarks, arms held out in annoyance.

Puzzling out that that’s what you’re here to stop, you turn to him, overconfidence flowing from your posture as you yell, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Y/N!” As you so kindly introduce yourself you launch white hot light from your hand, searing the metal of his chest.

“You Odinsons are bothering me,” he spits, flying toward you. You unleash two beams as he nears, starting to melt his body. But he’s too fast and you’ve barely begun to make a dent before he seizes your shoulders and throws you across the street.

The Avengers all watch in shock as you go flying through the air, crashing into a building a hundred yards away.

Among them is a brunette witch with magic of a scarlet shade.

Thor’s words mark the resuming of the battle. “She’ll be fine.”

And that was your first impression on Wanda Maximoff.

Two

After a couple weeks of living and training with the Avengers you quickly realize that somehow you’ve managed to find the one person impervious to your magical charm. And unfortunately for you, it’s also the one person here that you have any interest in pursuing.

It’s not like she dislikes you persay, just more like she only speaks to you only enough to be polite. It’s a ‘hello’ in the hallway or a passing nod when you happen to be in the same room. She pays you no mind and it confuses you, hell you’d have more luck with her brother.

The two of you get along scarily well, your flirtatious and carefree nature lining up perfectly. And because of the time you spend together, and his twin intuition with his sister, it doesn’t take him long to figure out your little crush on the witch.

He notices how your eyes linger on her in ways they don’t on anyone else and how you’re constantly trying to strike up a conversation with her. And he finds it absolutely hilarious that she’s able to brush off each of your attempts at gaining her attention like it’s nothing. Equally amusing is your confusion each time she walks off oblivious to your advances.

You have good reason to be confused though. In all of your encounters with well, anyone, you’d never met someone who wasn’t swayed by your beauty. You’d normally walk into a room and effortlessly capture the attention of everyone there, your charisma and ability to radiate joy making you supernaturally desirable.

Her own magic must be working to block yours out. And you did not find that anywhere near as amusing as the speedster beside you.

You’re both in the gym, you serve as a moving punching bag for him as he rushes at you with inhuman speed and tries to land blow after blow on you. The goal is to get you to the ground. A task that you know to be near impossible for the boy circling you. Your own ‘super’ Asgardian strength and speed combined with your invulnerability to all of his jabs makes you a pillar of stone, and him, a fly.

It’s rather amusing for you and a good exercise for him though as he rushes at you in an attempt to tackle you, but you sidestep the blur, causing him to smack into the wall. “Too slow, Maximoff,” you tease, playfully shaking your head at him as you mock chastise him.

As he gears up for another run at you, someone walking into the room catches your attention. It’s Wanda, and she looks as stunning as ever with her hair pulled back and workout clothes on. She notices you watching her and turns her enchanting green eyes on you, offering a small smile as she does.

Completely caught up in the girl’s gaze you don’t notice your training partner barreling directly into you. His momentum gained from his running start from across the room is enough to send you both flying across the room, tumbling over each other as you slide to a halt.

“Ha ha! I told you I’d get you! The mighty Asgardian has fallen,” he dramatically yells as he prances around your bewildered figure on the floor. That is until he notices his sister by the entrance of the gym. A devious smirk finds its way onto his face now as he looks between you and her, connecting the dots. “Ohhh.” And you can practically see his mind coming up with a new plan to expose your crush on the girl.

You’ve never been quicker to get up and rush over to the speedster, clapping a hand over his mouth right as it opens again. His hair is blown to the side from the force of the wind generated from your speeding by him.

“Pietro, I swear. Think very carefully about your next words,” you warn, desperation in your eyes as you stare him down.

He nods, miming zipping his lips as best he can with your hand in the way and you slowly remove it, trusting him to stay quiet.

You move to leave the room, and just as you’re about to make your exit you hear him call from the other side of the room.

“Sestra! Y/N wants to ask you out!”

You whip around, mouth agape in astonishment. No he did not. She turns to you, a question in her eyes and your face heats up in embarrassment, a red color creeping up your neck all the way to your cheeks. You see the boy who was supposed to be your friend laughing out of the corner of your vision as you stand there completely caught off guard.

Having no idea what to do, you run out of the room, you’d deal with this later.

You’d left in such a hurry you hadn’t even noticed the girl watching you with an adoring look on her face. She’d never noticed how cute you were before.

Three

Another thing that greatly confuses you about Earth is its technology. It isn’t very advanced, but way overly complicated in your opinion. Especially when you just want to get something to eat. You find yourself in the cooking room, you can’t remember the name they have for it, and you’re rummaging through all of the drawers and cabinets, looking for something to fill your growling stomach.

You also have no idea what any of these foods are or how they’re meant to be prepared or what they taste like. Oh no. You finally open a cabinet and find a box labeled Pop-Tarts. Pietro had introduced you to these a few days ago and you found them delightfully sugary. The perfect snack.

You open them up and start to eat one, and it’s good, but it feels like something is missing. Oh that’s right, he had made them warm when he gave one to you before, but you can’t remember how he had done so. You glance around the room, eyes finding a number of strange machines that could possibly be the one he had used.

There’s two box-like ones inserted into the wall, one smaller than the other, and both with doors on them. You open both of them, completely unaware of the brunette watching you from across the room as you continue on your quest to heat your snack.

She stifles a laugh as you press all of the buttons on the microwave and the oven, accomplishing nothing with a half eaten Pop-Tart placed in between your teeth.

After Pietro’s little stunt, interactions between you and her had become both more awkward and more frequent. She wants to get to know you more now, but everytime she talks to you you freeze up and end up leaving the room.

You aren’t sure what’s wrong with you, and it frustrates you that your lifetime of flirting and charming half the galaxy seems to disappear whenever she’s near. Normally, you’d be able to enchant whoever you desire with ease, many people, men and women alike back on Asgard being able to testify to such. But whenever you’re confronted with talking to her, you find yourself stuck, all your usual tricks evaporating into the tense air around you. Then your opportunity passes and you curse your brain for stalling out on you again.

Wanda finds it endearing, your big dog attitude dissolving at the sight of her. She thinks it’s cute whenever your eyes go wide and you blush, clumsily leaving the room before she can properly speak to you. Those feelings only grow as she watches you fumble your way around the kitchen, inspecting each appliance before using it wrong, and then moving onto the next one. You remind her of a lost puppy, trying to navigate a new world.

She also can’t help but notice the tight shirt you’re wearing, and the way it hugs your back and shoulders nicely, showing off your lean, but muscled frame. You must be taking fashion advice from Steve.

It’s when you stick your fingers inside the toaster after plugging it in that she steps in. She knows it’s not likely you’d be able to get hurt, but she’d like to prevent you from getting electrocuted today. “Hey do you need some help?”

You startle, yanking your fingers out of the new metal box you’d found on the counter and turning to look at who had spoken. When you find an all too familiar face looking at you in amusement, her hair falling in long waves across her shoulders you grimace. Of course it had to be her giving witness to you stumbling around the cooking room like an idiot.

“No.” You try to play it cool, like you hadn’t just been wandering from device to device, playing with switches and pressing buttons at random. And you still haven’t figured out how to fix the box of pastries sitting on the counter.

She fixes you with a look that says “really” and you relent, sighing in defeat. “Your people’s food machines are being difficult.”

She laughs at your blaming the appliances and you can’t help but think that it’s the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard; and you’re instantly addicted. You want to hear her laugh, to see her smile all the time, and you want to be the reason behind her joy.

“Here. Just take one and put it in the slot,” she explains, grabbing a Pop-Tart and slipping it into the toaster. “Set it to a low number,” she puts it on two, “and push this down.” You watch as the food drops down into the machine and the insides start to glow orange.

“Thank you,” you laugh nervously, slightly embarrassed that she had to help you with such a simple task.

“Anytime,” she replies, looking into your eyes and you think you’ve found what you’ve been searching for right there as you gaze into her soul.

And then the moment ends, your snack popping up from the toaster and breaking the silence around you.

Four

You’d heard about the infamous Tony Stark despite not having seen him since the battle against the giant robot named Ultron. From what the team told you he was kind of like one of the leaders of the team, funding the entire compound you live in and designing everyone’s suits and weapons. Kind of a big deal.

So that’s why you’re eager to impress him when he comes to visit the Compound one day.

Everyone is excited to see their teammate, who had stepped away from the superhero life for a while to take a much needed break. They’re also pleasantly surprised when he’s joined by Pepper, maybe he’d behave a little better with her to keep him in line.

You’re all waiting in the lounge area when the couple walks in, the billionaire asking with his usual arrogance, “Did you miss me? Of course you did.”

The team starts up the usual conversation, Tony asking how things are going without him and the others wanting to know civilian life is. Well as civilian as things can be with Iron Man that is.

Feeling a little out of place within the group who’d worked together for years, you hang out in the corner, not wanting to step away in fear of being rude. The tall redhead notices your quiet form standing awkwardly away from the conversation and moves to introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Pepper. I don’t believe we’ve met before,” she says with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand.

You take it, a grateful grin on your face as you tell her your name. Upon hearing your surname she lights up in recognition, “You’re Thor’s sister?”

“Yep, I’m an Odinson through and through,” you say, happy to talk about your family and your home. Although you hadn’t quite processed how much you miss your brother and how homesick you’ve become. You like Midgard, you do, but sometimes you want nothing more than to travel home for a few days. To be back among your own people.

The woman notices your distant look and asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, of course Lady Pepper,” you snap back to reality, hoping that you hadn’t offended her by spacing out. Worried that you had done something wrong you hurriedly add, “Let me just tell you that you are a babe.”

At your words the entire room goes silent, everyone turning to you in shock. The woman you had been talking to just stares at you, wide-eyed and confused, had you meant what you just said? Wanda looks at you too, a different expression painted onto her face. She knows you’re a flirt and have somewhat of an ego sometimes, but hitting on Pepper Potts? Surely you had to know how out of pocket that was. A third person stifles a snicker from his seat across the room. He may have taught you that word, but without the correct context, and you had just played right into his prank. As you take in the array of disbelief and incredulity on everyone’s faces you begin to think that maybe you had messed up.

“I’m sorry, what did you just call her?” Tony asks, clearly insulted by what you had just said. You back up into the wall as he advances on you, an accusing finger pointing at your face.

“Um,” you stutter, at a loss for words as you can feel the anger radiating from the man in front of you. “A babe?”

“Yea, no. That’s not going to fly mini Thor.”

“I’m sorry Son of Stark, but I was told that was what you call beautiful women here,” you explain. “I'm starting to get the feeling that that’s not correct,” you grimace, letting him know it was an accident, whatever you had just called her.

He shakes his head now in exasperation and turns toward the group watching the exchange, allowing you to relax against the wall. “Alright, who was teaching Luke Skywalker incorrect slang?” You’d earned the nickname after he noticed your powers affect things much like a lightsaber, and you just kind of gave off those vibes.

He studies the crowd of faces around the room, picking out the one that looks more amused by the interaction than anything else. “Wilson. It was you wasn’t it?”

At being found out he doesn’t bother to hide his grin anymore, admitting to teaching you that calling someone ‘babe’ was just an innocent way to compliment a woman’s appearance. “Yea, but you can’t tell me that that wasn’t funny. Come on!”

Tony does not seem entertained, although it’s exactly the kind of joke he’d pull on someone else without blinking twice. He’s just not happy that he’s the one being played this time.

You look down in embarrassment, Wanda’s sympathetic eyes on you the entire time.

Five

Apparently, the time has been long overdue for a famous Stark party and the man himself has invited all of you to what has now been reverted back to Stark tower for a ‘small get-together’.

As you walk in, the endless chatter from the huge crowd of people, the clink of dozens of glasses, and the music being boomed from speakers along the walls slaps you in the face.

Small get-together my ass.

It doesn’t matter much either way to you though, the parties back on Asgard could easily reach volumes double this, and you’d been navigating the social world for centuries.

Your original plans have to do with Wanda by your side as you converse with the many humans who had been eagerly waiting for the arrival of the famed Avengers, but those are dashed when you see her brother sidle up protectively against her, and steer her away from the bulk of the crowd. That alone wasn’t going to stop you from still joining them, but as you turn to follow after the pair, a different arm seizes yours and begins to drag you into the sea of people.

You pivot to see who was responsible for your abrupt change in direction, your eyes settling on the man of the hour. The faint scent of alcohol and overwhelming stench of expensive cologne hits your nose as he looks at you. “Did you really think I’d just let you slink off into the corner and hide the entire night? No, no. I promised a bunch of lovely people they would be able to meet our newest recruit tonight, and I do not intend to let them down. Maybe if you’re lucky you can leave here tonight with one, or two I don’t discriminate.” He sends you a wink with that last comment and based on his animated attitude and wild gesturing you take it he’s already had a fair amount to drink.

Your dress shoes clap along the floor as you’re pulled into the throng, immediately being swarmed by a mob of overeager mortals. You scowl at the host of the party as he slips away, mouthing ‘good luck’ as he disappears.

“Is it true that you’re Thor’s younger sister?”

“What kind of powers do you have?”

“Tell us about Asgard! Is everyone there ultra good looking, or does it just run in the family?”

You quickly tire of the incessant line of questions, it seemed a lot of these people are reporters, or just fans, or maybe both. All of them are talking at you more than talking to you though, and it bothers you greatly, so you run off, telling them you have to go to the restroom.

You head there anyhow, finding a moment of peace as you stand back away from the roar of the party. Your head settles in your hand as you close your eyes and methodically massage your temples. You’re supposed to be impervious to headaches, but your mind feels seconds away from exploding.

Footsteps alert you to someone nearing your makeshift sanctuary and you hurriedly spin around to face the sinks and roll up your sleeves, pumping your hand full of soap right as the door opens. You don’t bother to see who it is as you wash your hands, mentally preparing for going back out there and facing the crowd.

You make your way over to the bar where a certain redhead is mixing drinks, dodging everyone who tries to grab your attention on the way. You let out a huff as you sit down, and noticing your exasperated state she clears the counter of any other stragglers.

“Leave it to Stark to throw a party tumultuous enough to tire a mighty Asgardian.” She gestures out to the huge area packed with people and you shake your head, the mere thought of going back out there stressing you out.

“I wish I could get drunk, but I’m afraid your alcohol is nowhere near strong enough to affect me.” You throw a wistful glance toward the rows of bottles behind Natasha as a knowing smirk spreads across her face.

“Well Odinson, you just might be in luck.” You watch her, wondering why she has to be so damn mysterious all the time as she ducks under the counter, searching for something. She reappears, a flask in hand. It looks completely unassuming, its contents probably nothing you couldn’t find in one of the many bottles in Stark’s collection. She pushes it toward you now and you take it, unscrewing the cap and taking a cautious whiff. “You’re welcome by the way. I had to hide that so the guys wouldn’t kill themselves trying to drink it.”

You smile when you realize what it is. Asgardian ale. Your brother must have brought some over last time he was here, and now you’re going to be stealing the leftovers. “Thank you Natasha. You have just saved my night,” you tell her as you take a big swig from the bottle.

“No problem, kid.” She leans back, taking a sip from her colorful drink as well, apparently you aren’t the only one who needs a little help tolerating the evening.

“I’m older than you, you know,” you insist, a small frown warping your features as you raise your flask in her direction.

“You look and act like a college student,” she deadpans, which only serves to deepen your frown.

Instead of arguing back your eyes sweep the room, on the lookout for someone in particular. “Hey, have you seen Wanda?”

Cracking a slight smile at your antics, which only prove her previous point, she shrugs, nonchalantly moving over to the other side of the bar where Maria Hill waits.

“Hold on, hold on.” You get up from the barstool, staring after her, unnecessarily mysterious, you swear.

“Come on Natasha, don’t leave the poor girl hanging,” the well-dressed SHIELD agent remarks upon seeing your pleading face and the sly smirk on her girlfriend’s.

Finally relenting, she gestures to a door up on the second level of the space. “I think I saw your crush head out to the balcony a few minutes ago.”

“I’m not a kid,” you mutter as you start to leave the bar, snatching the flask from the counter on the way. You’re halfway to the staircase when the redhead’s words dawn on you. “And she’s not my crush!”

You catch the pair laughing to each other before jogging up the stairs, eager to see your friend.

You push the door open, relieved to see that she really is out here, and that the former spy hadn’t tricked you for her own amusement.

She looks gorgeous, the pale moonlight highlighting her face as she stares up at the sky, a beer bottle clutched in one hand.

“You’re late.”

“Yea I know, believe it or not I’ve been trying to get to you all night, but Stark, he is smooth.” The cool breeze hits your face, and until now you hadn’t realized how warm it had been inside the tower. The night air is a welcome relief after being surrounded by way too many people for the last two hours.

“Well I hope you don’t mean he’s been flirting with you.” She raises a skeptical eyebrow at your choice of an excuse.

“No! No. Of course not. He just kept pushing me to talk to person after person, and I couldn’t catch a break.”

“Well I wouldn’t blame him, you look very dashing tonight Stargirl, purple is definitely your color.” A blush rises along your cheeks so you take another gulp from your drink, hiding your face behind the container. You'd been receiving compliments all night long, yet somehow hers is the first one that feels real, that makes you want to give her a million in return.

“Thank you, Wanda. I love your dress. The color, it compliments your eyes quite well.” You’ve moved to mirror her position now, arms resting against the railing as you both peer down at the busy city below, a view neither of you are used to.

“You know when I was little, I used to dream of a life in America. And now I’m here, and it still doesn’t feel real.” She doesn’t know where the admittance comes from, just that it’s a feeling she needed to get off of her chest, and that you’re easy to talk to, she feels comfortable here with you.

You nod your head, eyes still scanning the view before you; the cars racing down the street, couples strolling past block after block, the twinkle of lights from a thousand windows. “Do you miss your home?”

She sighs, but it lacks any heaviness or malice, it’s simply an exaggerated exhale as she thinks about her answer. “Sokovia… it wasn’t a place without troubles. In fact, it probably had more trouble than most places, especially when I was growing up.”

You watch her face as she speaks, how it grows sadder as she thinks more about her old home. You want to hug her, as if that would shield her from the forlorn memories, but you feel as if that gesture would be inappropriate now, so you settle for just being here for her. To listen as she explores her complicated feelings.

“But I do miss it, my parents mostly. How we managed to make the best of our situation, and how much love they had for me and Pietro.” Tears shine against her eyes now, threatening to create a stream down her face. As soon as the first one falls, she quickly wipes it away, shaking her head as if to clear the grief from her mind and taking a sip from her beer. “Enough about my home. Do you miss yours?”

The question takes you aback, even when it shouldn’t. You’d been talking about her home, it only makes sense that she’d ask you about yours. You’d just been so focused on how Wanda felt that you’d neglected your own feelings.

“Yea I miss it. I do.” When confronted with the task of articulating those feelings however, your mind drew a blank. You heave a sigh, realizing there’s a lot you have to unpack about Asgard, your family, your path in life. “It’s complicated.” With another swig from your flask you notice the slight buzz from the alcohol starting to kick in.

“I get it. I’m here to listen whenever you figure it out though.” Of course she’d be understanding about this. Your mind tracks back to hugging her again as her green gaze settles on you. Scratch that, you want to kiss her.

The door banging open startles the two of you and you turn to see the Falcon grinning at you from the entryway. “Come on lovebirds, we need you for a round of pool.”

“We’ll be right in, Sam.” The girl answers for the both of you while you silently curse him for interrupting your moment. She saunters over to the door, looking back at you over her shoulder as she heads inside. “Come on, it'll be fun.”

You make your way over to where the Avengers are crowded around a green table with brightly colored balls laid out neatly in a triangle at one end. You’re pleased to note that the rest of Stark’s guests have cleared out by this hour, only leaving your small group.

“I heard we have been invited to play this game of pool,” you spread your arms out wide as you finish trotting up the stairs, tripping over the last one. You’d forgotten how strong that ale was, too long spent away from drinking with your brother. You recover before face planting though, striding up to the table with a bolstered confidence.

You’re handed a long stick and are told to use it to hit the white ball into the huddle of colorful ones. Easy, you think, going over to line up a shot. Wanda follows behind you, taking up a spot standing next to you as she watches you concentrate on aiming the ball.

Just as you’re about to strike the stick into the ball, she drapes an arm around your waist. The mindless act of affection startles you, the contact sending a giddy jolt through your body, causing you to overshoot your hit.

Overshoot might be a bit of an understatement, as you watch the white ball crash into the rest, sending all of them flying off the table in different directions. You have no idea how this game works, but you’re pretty sure that was not the goal.

The laughter flowing from the girl next to you confirms this, embarrassment flooding your senses as you realize the slip up had come from her closeness to you. The others seem to recognize this as well, joining in on making fun of your reaction to being held by the girl you obviously have feelings for.

The only one who seems oblivious as to what had caused your mistake is the person responsible for it.

“Oops.”

Six

A number of weeks go by as you and Wanda continue to skirt the line between friendship and something more. Locked gazes are held just a little too long, she falls asleep on your chest as you watch an unhealthy amount of old sitcoms, both of you glance at each other’s lips when you think the other isn’t not looking.

Eventually you’re fed up with dancing around the question, of avoiding taking the next step out of fear of rejection. You’re going to ask her out, formally, and you know just how to do it.

You take a motorcycle out to the city, plans of visiting Wanda’s favorite coffee shop and grabbing her a drink and a pastry at the front of your mind.

The weather is dull, heavy clouds crowding out the sun and threatening to open up and give way to a nasty storm. You refuse to let the weather interfere with your day though, and besides, what could be better than some comfort food on a day like this.

You smile up at the sky as it starts to sprinkle, imagining that it’s just your brother encouraging you on your mission to romance the girl you think you just might be in love with.

You pull up to the quaint store and cut the engine, swinging your leg up and over as you dismount your bike.

A bell rings as you enter, the strong scent of coffee hitting your nose. You inhale deeply, letting the aroma envelop your senses as you look around the calmly lit room.

You stride up to the counter, the noise of idle chatter backing you up as you recall the name of the coffee order Wanda is most fond of. Too lost in your search of the menu above you you don’t notice the barista that moves to greet you and take your order. Whenever you stop by while she’s working she makes it her mission to incessantly flirt with you, despite your obvious disinterest and outright discomfort in her doing so.

You finally find what sounds like the right name of the brew the witch likes and you look across the woman poised to not only make your coffee, but also to try her hand again at asking you out.

“Hey Y/N!” She chirps. yeah, she knows your name.

“Hi, can I get two grande mochas please? Oh and two chocolate chip cookies?” You try to keep your voice as professional as possible and leave her no room to start an uncomfortable conversation with you.

“Of course, anything for you.” You nod your head and only offer a tight smile in acknowledgment, turning to go wait a ways back when you hear her call you over. “Hey, can you come back over here? I just need you to sign the receipt.”

You trudge back over, taking a hand out of your pocket and setting it mindlessly on the counter, waiting for her to hand you a pen and the little slip of paper. Instead of giving you a receipt, she grabs your hand harshly, not at all like when Wanda takes it, you note, and the abruptness of her actions startles you. You stare at her, about to ask what’s going on when you notice she’s writing something on your palm. “Hey!” You yank your arm back, but not before she’s finished scribbling down a series of numbers in pen.

“My number,” she beams at you, a hint of crazy in her eyes as she clarifies. “Call me, pretty girl.”

All of a sudden a clap of thunder booms from outside, causing you to look out the window to see rain falling in heavy sheets now, just as you had predicted before. Maybe taking the motorcycle wasn’t such a great idea. Something else catches your eyes though when a flash of lightning streaks through the sky, a figure stomping angrily away.

It couldn’t be. No. It was most definitely the girl you had been planning to ask out tonight, and she had obviously just seen your entire incriminating interaction with the barista.

Shit. You have to explain to her that it wasn’t what it looked like from her position outside the shop.

You race outside, your clothes becoming soaked through in seconds as you shout. “Wanda, wait!”

She pauses for the slightest of seconds before continuing on towards the car she had taken, hurt and embarrassment flooding her heart. You catch up to her before she can get in, imploring her to look at you through the water dripping from her face, you’re not sure if it’s from the rain or her tears.

She glares at you, not giving you a chance to defend yourself before she jumps on you. “What’s going on? Tell me you weren’t just in there letting that girl give you her number, flirting with her!”

She looks so small and sad standing there, drenched to the bone, shivering from the cold, and you take a step toward her, instinctively wanting to wrap her in your arms and keep her warm. She steps back in retaliation as you do, so instead you open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off, continuing her verbal assault. “I knew you were a princess back on Asgard. That you probably had people throwing themselves at you left and right.” She’s moved toward you now, close enough to give you a shove with her next words.

“I can’t believe I fell for your stupid little girl next door act, Y/N!” You stumble back in surprise as she pushes your chest, shoes slipping on the slick pavement beneath your feet. “Did you get bored playing with just one person? Was I not enough? I bet you missed all of the attention, so you snuck out here to reclaim that high.”

She finally finishes unleashing her piece, frustration lacing her bout of yelling, the rumble of the storm providing a dramatic undercurrent. Water droplets roll down the back of your exposed neck, sending shivers down your spine as you shake out your hair, sending an extra spray of water into the fray.

“Wanda, no,” you catch her hand as she turns away from you, stopping your speech until she looks back at you. “I tried to leave the Compound without you noticing because I wanted to surprise you. I know how much you like this place.” A flash of lightning illuminates both of your faces, revealing the desperation on yours and the distraught expression she wears.

“Then that girl in there… she messed it all up.” A defeated sigh escapes your lips as you shove your hands in your jacket pockets, and looking down, you discover your white t-shirt has totally soaked through, making it see through. Something that would certainly work to undermine your next point. “The truth is I haven’t missed who I was back on Asgard. I think I was hiding behind my powers, using the easy pleasure to distract myself from reality.” The confession works to stun the girl in front of you, and it even takes you aback.

“I could never tell when anyone was being honest with me, if they liked me because of me or because my powers were always subconsciously drawing them in. It was exhausting so I stopped trying to find something real.” You have tears in your eyes now too as you meet Wanda’s somber ones. You stop your anxious pacing for a second as you step closer to her, needing her to hear what you have to say next. “I didn’t think I’d ever find something real… until I met you. Wanda I want you, not that stupid barista, not anyone else in the entire universe. Because you’re beautiful and amazing and you terrify me but in the best way and-.”

She cuts off your nervous rambling and wild gesturing as she grabs the collar of your leather jacket and pulls you close, smashing your lips together. She tastes even sweeter than you had imagined, and you tangle your fingers in her hair as they come to rest on the sides of her face. You both savor in the tenderness of the kiss, even if it was rushed and filled with a million unsaid emotions.

Eventually you pull back for air, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as you stare at each other, breathless. The rain continues to patter down on your unguarded silhouettes as she gently takes your hand and rests her forehead against your own.

“I want you too.”

One

You race about the Compound, grabbing various items here and there, making sure that everything is set up to perfection.

Wanda is due back from her busy day in the city (thank you Pietro) any minute now, you’ve planned the perfect first date night.

You hear the door to the main entrance of the Compound open and you sprint downstairs, making it just in time to greet the returning siblings.

“Y/N!” The girl you’ve been waiting for almost trips over her own feet in her haste to get to you. “This fool has been running me around town all day. I am exhausted. And now you’re going to watch sitcoms with me.” She takes your hand and starts to drag you upstairs, and you let her. As you round the corner, you see Pietro send you a wink before you’re whisked away.

“Wanda this way.” You tug on her arm, pulling her past your room that she’s practically made hers as well with all the time she spends with you.

“Wait.” She slips her wrist from your grasp, standing stubbornly by the door. “We’re going to lay down and watch Dick Van Dyke and then you’re going to get me dinner.” Her arms are crossed and she looks at you defiantly, motioning toward the room.

You have other plans though, and a mischievous grin spreads across your face as you slowly walk backwards towards the end of the hall. “Trust me, I’ve got something much better planned.” You gesture with your arm in a signal for her to follow you and turn your back to her, silently telling her you’re leaving either way.

Intrigued by the eager look in your eyes and the energy that has you almost bouncing off the walls, she abandons her original plan in favor of following you. You open the door to the stairwell, sparing one sneaky glance back just to make sure she’s coming. When you note her figure making her way down the hall, you climb the steps, not stopping until you reach the roof.

Before you head outside you wait for her to catch up, accidentally getting way ahead of her in your haste to lead her up here.

“What are you doing?” Her voice echoes around the stairwell as curiosity shines through her expression.

Choosing to ignore her question, you send one back her way. “Are you ready for the most romantic night of your life, Wanda Maximoff?” A knowing smile and a pair of raised eyebrows crosses your face as you lean against the door, your hand on the handle in anticipation.

Without giving her the chance to answer, you fling it open, revealing your little setup. A picnic blanket lays flat on the ground, enough food to feed much more than two people lined meticulously around its edges. It’s almost completely dark out, the sun having conveniently set thirty minutes before, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lanterns that line the perimeter of the roof.

Beyond the Compound lies absolutely nothing except the surrounding nature. That’s one giant perk of being stationed in the middle of nowhere, any light or excess noise from the city fails to reach you, always leaving you with peace and quiet whenever you need a moment. The night sky is free to shine out here, the sea of stars stretching out farther than the eye can see uncontested by the touch of humanity. That’s why you picked this spot, the beauty of the landscape reminding you of the girl before you, and the secluded space would allow you to truly enjoy your night without interruption.

You step aside so she can take it in, watching her eyes go wide at your gesture. The silence is stifling, insecurity warping your mind as a hint of a smile appears on her lips. “Do you like it? I wasn’t sure how people here usually court others, but I saw this on TV once and I thought it was cute and then I remembered how you told me that one time about how you used to love studying the stars when you were younger and, well I thought this could be a nice way to spend the night.”

She waits patiently for you to finish your long-winded speech, unable to stifle the small laugh that bubbles up from her chest.

“What?” Dumbfounded, you cock your head, wondering what she found so funny.

“Nothing, you’re just cute when you’re nervous,” she casually remarks as she brushes past you and further onto the roof.

You stumble after her, smoothing out your shirt and fixing your hair as you do. “What? Me? I’m not nervous. No, not at all.”

You eye her carefully as she takes in your little setup. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Odinson.” She sends a coy smile your way and you reach out to take her hands in yours, a dopey grin lighting up your face.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

And with that she kisses you right there under the moonlit sky, the stars the only witnesses to the small display of affection. The kiss is gentle and filled with passion, the beginning of a new journey you’re about to embark on with the girl you’d give everything to.

The airiness of her perfume mixes perfectly with yours as you break apart, staring with a sickening amount of love and admiration into each other’s eyes.

Yeah, you could get used to life on Earth.

---

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morrch · 8 months

Text

okay, I want to draw a ofmd based tarot deck 😳

for now, i’m only thinking about major arcana with the main plot line. the fool’s journey where stede is the fool (respectfully)

but it would be so fun to draw all 72 cards!! with all the subplots and characters

i’ve done some rough sketches for the start, i’ll continue after season two is out. idk yet if I should wait even for season three with this project (if it’ll happen lol) maybe i’ll just redraw some cards later… who knows! I think I need to draw my ideas while they’re fresh anyway lol

so about what’s going on with the cards now

THE FOOL start of stede’s journey where he’s still hopeful and a bit naive. sign of the new beginnings

THE EMPRESS represents femininity, motherhood and creation. I think mary with her art is perfect for this card

THE EMPEROR father figure, authority and structure

THE LOVERS scene from the picnic where luscious first noticed the spark. I also like how the original card has a snake as a sign of temptation and in this scene, they also eat a snake (I wasn't planning on it when started to draw I think it’s destiny)

THE HERMIT so here is the s2 izzy where I assume he’ll get so of redemption arc and will face himself on top of everything else. also, he is almost always surrounded but the candles and has a clear attraction to the flames, I wonder how it’ll affect the symbolism. anyway this card is still a speculation, this is only my gut feeling

DEATH originally this card is not necessarily dark, it is mostly about the ending of a cycle. but in this case, I thought that this particular scene defined ed’s relationship with death and the act of killing. also, it’s kinda about ending a cycle of abuse (not sure about this one)

THE DEVIL I think it’s mostly about how ed sees himself and I wanted to draw the figurines lol (idk i’m too heartbroken about my emo baby girl I can't explain my feelings aaaaaa)

THE TOWER this is where it all started for me haha. this is the card that represents the destruction of beliefs and foundations and I think the lighthouse painting is PERFECT for it. how it all shattered and stuff (screaming)

THE MOON love this one is about anxiety and betrayal and not important about seeing the danger in the wrong things. and I like that on the original card there is a wolf and a domesticated dog and they are such a good parallel to ed and steed 😖 and izzy is the crayfish sorry not sorry (more like cryfish amIright??)

#ofmd fanart #ofmd #our flag means death #our flag means fanart #tarot deck #i’m not the best in it but I hope to learn on the job #i’m into tarot and have a toxic trait to mix my special interests

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teronsrickman · 1 year

Photo

Again I draw how father and son are hugging, but this time the father does not have a gun behind his back, THANK YOU (a reference to the fact that I drew a moment from the ending of FarCry6)

Before the spoilers I will write a "SPOILER", before that the text without spoilers

AAAAAAAAA I.. I have already spammed the entire offtop in VK and Twitter with emotions! I've never cried over a game so much in my life. Even over the last part of GoW, even over those games that I also immensely love. But the most important thing is that I have never cried SO much with happiness in my life. Not from grief, not from pain or fear. But from happiness and love. I've never experienced anything like this so much. My great respect to Santa Monica Studio.

Usually, when I like the game so much, I roll up a write of pages of criticism, (yes, you saw how I reviewed FarCry6 and the DLC for it), but here I surprisingly have nothing to say. With the exception of comments about the overload and prolongation of the game by events and too frequent monotonous battles. But these are just remarks, and not so weighty disadvantages that I drop the game. We have already joked with friends about some similar parallels between GoW and FC6, from dictatorship and uprisings, to character relationships, and agreed that GoW is an example of how it was necessary to build emotional cutscenes and the plot as a whole in FC6. Ubisoft, please learn. And of course it's a pity for the cut-out content with Sinmara. Thanks to her, Atreus could again evoke controversial feelings, show himself from an interesting side, and Kratos' words about the heart would play stronger. It would be possible to shorten any quests like collecting pear or going for the moon and thanks to this dont cut-out Sinmara, but we have what we have. After all, GoW is one of the most powerful, in my opinion, in terms of the concept and its artistic interpretation, the game. Scandinavian mythology is a very popular topic, but the way developers adapt it, intertwine the plot and gameplay, make incredible designs and environments, bright characters is priceless in the gaming industry.

And that's all I could say about criticism. And if I start to remember and look for all the little things, including replicas that I liked so much, then I really will roll 20 pages again, but I don't need it... So if you want to see how I yelled from certain points, they are in the twitter @TeronsCock and maybe I will still draw something. Moreover, I am already bursting with headcannons as I returned to Midgard 4 years later, not without the help of Heath or Tobeas, as always, and again went all this way and emotions with characters that I already missed from the last time. Well, this time my friends are with me, who can even nullify Kratos' patience :)

SPOILER NEXT

Another note - I've also never cried in my life from the fact that the character just stayed alive I had previously jumped with happiness and screamed like hell when Vaas turned out to be alive, when Pagan did not die in the end. But that's exactly CRYING so hard, this is the first time.. Literally since 2018, I've been waiting for Kratos to die, all the characters have been waiting and afraid, and we're with them, and in the end I'm just.... AAAAAAA I haven't seen such a happy ending even in a Disney movie ..... I just love these characters and the game

#art #fanart #review #game review #god of war #god of war ragnarok #kratos #atreus #god of war kratos #god of war atreus #headcanons

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teddypickerry · 1 year

Note

Could you write something angsty for Alex?

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐋 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

pairing! alex turner x fem reader

summary! in which alex’s lack of songs leads to him writing something he shouldn’t

word count! 1k

warnings! none

a/n! this fucking sucks. i don’t know why i hate this so much. one of my friends read it and loved it but i cannot get into it. BUT I LOVE ALEX SO I AM POSTING IT. probs cause it’s 4am and i’m tired (never). also i left the the ending kinda up to you. if you want him to apologize then you can imagine that or if you want her to dump his sorry ass then slay!

PARALLEL UNIVERSE. the exact words your boyfriend had jotted down on a notepad left in the sitting room. you'd got home from work, noticing a mess of things on the coffee table and chair where you could assume your boyfriend alex had sat all afternoon. he was currently in between tours and albums meaning, he was drawing inspiration from everything. for some reason he was in dire need of lyrics as if he didn't just release an album a year ago.

alex's process, that he'd explained to you the evening prior, consisted of needing lyrics by the end of the next year after the album. which made no sense to you but apparently to him it was all worked out in his brain. so he'd spent the past few months jotting down every word that interested him. sure it got frustrating, he left dinner with your sister the other day because he had a writing epiphany. only to have you come home two hours later to a rather pissed off version of him. him going on about messing up the beat and locking himself in his office for the rest of the evening.

alex was irritable and frustrated with his lack of inspiration and you honestly party blamed yourself. with his exes, he'd had several love songs that could have been mistaken for poems lined up. the thoughts of you possibly being at fault for this version of your boyfriend woke you up during the early hours of the morning. there was a part of you that worried you weren't enough for the romantic man. and your biggest fears seemed to shine the moment your eyes crossed over the notepad. the title scribbled 'parallel universe' in alex's sloppy handwriting. below were crossed out messy lines of writing. all hurting you more than the next.

'in some parallel universe, i know you

held me tighter. i tried harder. you spoke,

"look my love, i will look for you in every

lifetime." i didn't have you in this one so,

i'll have to wait for the next'

that was enough to have your heart beating out of your chest. there was more written at the bottom, but you couldn't bother. you'd felt betrayed. it didn't matter who it was about but he did at least owe you that. not that you ever wanted to hear it. hear who he was thinking about this way, dreaming about being in the arms of while actually in yours. the feeling was indescribable.

the hum of the tv was the only thing beside your heavy breaths that you'd heard. not acknowledging the sound of footsteps down the hallway into the living room, where you stood. your back towards him as he stopped in the doorway. "thought that was you. thought i heard the door. look- i think i finally have something figured out so maybe we can go out to that place you like in a bit. the one with the blue drink that you always get and have a proper night out. it's been awhile..." his warm voice trailed off at your silence, and lack of acknowledgment of him.

you let out a deep breath before turning your head, noticing the man with a white towel wrapped around his waist. his hair was dripping wet besides one strand over his eyes. he looked so fucking good, and that fucking hurt.

the expression on your face told him something not that it was correct in anyway. "we don't have to go there, i mean.." he licked his lips. "we could always stay here tonight, order in... stay in bed."

you didn't know why you let him ramble on. maybe because there was a part of you that hoped the paper in your hand was a lyric nick wrote, or maybe jamie, or probably matt... married matt. "alex?"

"hm?" he hummed uncomfortably as he stepped closer to you, securing the towel in the process. his eyes finally caught the prize. the notepad still in your hand visible for all to see. he could have sworn he shit himself. "y/n-"

"why-" you huffed as you stepped back from him. "i'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume this is miles' words, not yours." the silence on the other end answered your question as you felt something sharp in your soul. like you were being cut in half, your heart at least. "alex," you whined as pure pain took over. p

"angel," alex called out as you only shook your head. he tried to step closer once more as you backed up, now against the wall. he sighed and stepped back assuring his defeat. "it's just words. just some lyrics, i needed something to write so-"

"so you decided to declare your love for your ex? dream about her holding onto you?" you scoffed as his body stiffened and he turned his head slightly. "no-"

"then what the fuck is this then?" you held up the paper as your eyes began to sting. alex gulped at the sight of your pain. "angel, i had nothing okay? so i tapped into a place i haven't been in forever- years, haven't felt that in years. but i needed something dramatic and devotional."

"then write about your goddamn girlfriend! or make something up, what the hell, alex?" your voice threatened a yell as he sighed and attempted to step closer to you. "this is my job, baby. this is what i do for a living. i don't-"

"just," you started before biting your lip and crossing your arms. "i can't do this right now. i can't be with you right now," you mumbled as you grabbed your purse and jacket. all sat on the chair where you'd left them not even five minutes ago. alex's breathing got heavier as he watched you slip on your jacket. he tried to stop you. he tried to tell you that his words meant nothing. but maybe you'd listen, maybe in a parallel universe.

#teddypickerry #alex turner x reader #alex turner #arctic monkeys fic #alex turner fic #angst

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imminent-danger-came · 7 months

Note

Hello! Unhinged Anon back again (I say as though I ever left and haven’t just been lurking) teetering on the precipice of madness, as per usual, this time because of S2E0!

Specifically, MK stealing the trigram furnace in S2E0. Specifically specifically, MK being the only member of the gang sent off to steal something SWK hadn’t stolen in the past, and also being the ONLY member of the crew who promises to return what he stole. And then he doesn’t. And considering his reaction to seeing it in S2E5, I think the implication is that he never even tried because he genuinely forgot about it. Because he was focused on saving and protecting people. And because he doesn’t return it, LBD gets it. And because she gets it, she’s able to start making the mech. And because she’s able to start making the mech, a whole bunch of stuff happens that hurts the same people he was originally trying to protect when he stole the furnace in the first place, plus who knows how many more.

…

*Smiling blankly as I use a stick to draw the words ‘to pain’ in the dirt over and over like I’m in The Shining*

Seriously, there is so much about that one moment of MK running off with the furnace that is just… so evil of them to do. I mean, MK separating from his friends and going off alone to steal from the celestial realm is bad enough. But making him the only one to do what Wukong did in the past with something new? Having him be the only one who’s chased by a creature of heaven, not a spider, because he’s seemingly the only one who caused a noticeable disturbance? Having it be ‘just like Wukong’, but also his own, unique crime against the realm? And having it happen literal seconds after his pep talk with the reflection inside the furnace? Really?! WAS THAT REALLY NECESSARY?!?!

Also! I saw a previous ask where you were talking about the first time SWK uses MK’s name being in S3E14 when he apologizes, but there's actually a moment before that in S2E0! However, it is not nearly as memorable a scene lol. It’s when they’re flying towards the city together on SWK’s cloud and MK starts clinging to him because he’s freaking out about all the spiders. I think the exact line was literally just ‘Get off, MK!’ lol. Still, the fact that he’s using MK’s name by that point certainly says something about their relationship and how it’s grown. Plus it makes Wukong leaving the literal next episode all the more painful! Hurray for the LEGO show continuing to be cruel! Anyways, hope you’re having a nice day/night!

*waves from the precipice of madness*

*me cheering at the Lego show continuing to be cruel*

Anyways hello Unhinged Anon! A pleasure, as always.

So, something something "The chaos and destruction we'll bring upon the world will make Wukong's past look like nothing" something something in regards to him stealing something that Wukong hadn't. Students usually surpass their masters in narratives like these, but erm, you know. You obviously don't want to surpass your master when it comes to the chaos and destruction and havoc they caused.

It's also always funny to me that in the trigram furnace he gained the power of "self-reflection", but in typical MK fashion he forgets to use that power (but don't worry the curse shows up in 4x07 to do it for him).

However, and the clown wig is totally on tight, here's the thing about the "Get off, MK!" scene. That scene has been paralleled several times:

So we have a scene where MK get's thrown off by Monkey King, we have a scene where MK and SWK both get thrown off by the cloud dissipating, and then we have a scene where Wukong catches MK after he was thrown.

This is how scene #1 plays out in particular:

Sun Wukong: "Get off MK!" MK: "Wait, what are you?" Sun Wukong: "*exasperated sigh* If you can't handle a little spider, how are you meant to help me with that? I'll handle this one bud, you just hang tight." MK: "Wait! I can still- ...help."

(2x00 Revenge of the Spider Queen)

Which also parallels a scene from 3x09:

Sun Wukong: "Just wait for me there! I'll explain everything." MK: "But- but I can help! Let me help you!" Sun Wukong: "There's no time bud! Macaque could show up at any second! GO!"

(3x09 The King, the Prince, and the Shadow)

SO, it's about Wukong's overconfidence and how that collides with MK's low self-confidence at high speeds. It's also about how their relationship has grown over the coarse of the show, with Wukong actively relying on MK during TEW special.

And I think you're totally right, it says a lot about their relationship in ROTSQ and shows how much SWK failed at not getting attached to MK in s1 lol. And then he left in 2x01 for MK, and you just gotta love those two.

#omg my ask box is clear!!!!#yay!!!!!#there are a couple of asks that are gonna be longer metas in my drafts but shhhhhh we're not talking about them #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk parallels #asks #unhinged anon #the light is no mystery

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reviewdiaries · 11 months

Text

Be still my beating heart - examining that Nancy x Ace moment from 4x03

I am a wreck. Sure I went into this episode expecting to have my heart smushed into many tiny pieces, but that just, yeah, I’m going to need some time to recover. This season is unhinged, unhinged I tell you and I am absolutely here for it. It gets long beneath the cut…

We left Nancy and Ace in a cautiously optimistic place at the end of the last episode - a fragile bloom of hope, a desperate shared yearning, finally, finally in the same space of wanting to try. And once Nancy commits to something, she is all in. You see that building all episode, this breathless anticipation and want. Because finally they’re being open with each other, they’re talking honestly about their feelings and it is soft and beautiful, framed in warmer light and lingering looks in place of touch.

I’ve talked before about how the curse is forcing them both into actually talking with each other, and we see that so clearly in the beautiful little moments - how long have they known they liked the other? What do they want to do first when the curse is lifted? It’s intimate and raw and filled with So Much Eye Contact. After so long avoiding how they feel, letting the other one know, acting on it, suddenly we see Nancy and Ace in a much more stable place. Everything is laid bare, and now it’s just the two of them working together to defeat the big bad and it is beautiful to watch.

GIF Credit @nacesource

But nothing as beautiful as the moment we’ve all been waiting for, that kiss. You know it’s coming, right from the moment when Bess says early on that they’ll need to activate the curse. The kiss has been a delicious promise hanging over everything. And it’s a study in light. That first breathless almost where they were in near darkness at Icarus Hall, when the work of uncovering their feelings had barely just begun. The soft lamplight of Ace’s apartment as Nancy told him about the parallel timeline, of the kisses and intimacy they shared. And now this. Full, beautiful light, candles everywhere, not a shadow to hide in, nothing but the raw truth on display for everyone.

Ace has been so confident, settled in his feelings, the knowledge that they’re returned. A new stillness that has infused him right from the start, until this moment. Suddenly faced with Nancy in a circle of petals, faced with the reality of her, of this moment, his nerves return. He can’t hold her gaze anymore, suddenly filled with the scent of her shampoo this close, the knowledge that she’s already done this, and maybe he won’t live up to the hallucination - even though it was technically him and he knows it’s ridiculous he can’t help the fear that maybe this will ruin it, somehow this moment, this start, will be the end.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

Even as he stammers out an apology, a buffer, a rationalisation for his nerves, he’s reaching for her. He’s held himself in check for so long, laced his hands together to keep from touching her since the last time he tried to kiss her when he was testing his theory, and now finally he can let his desires off their leash and touch her. She’s so beautiful, so steady and sure, she doesn’t look nervous at all and somehow that helps him, as he reaches out to cup her cheek and the side of her neck.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

He doesn’t so much draw her to him as use his fingers tangled in her hair to anchor himself to her, stop himself from floating away on the breathless anticipation of finally stepping in and closing that last distance between them.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

And at that moment where every other time he’s had to pause, to stop, to back away, Nancy finally reaches for him. Mirroring where his own hand is cradling her face, mouth opening underneath his and god this is so much more than he could ever have imagined. And he has imagined it so much. Hundreds of idle moments in school, washing dishes at the Claw, watching her kiss Park and Gil and wishing so much that it was him she was with. And these last days, after she told him about the parallel timeline and her eyes fluttered shut as she breathlessly recounted kisses and skin and hot murmured words against skin. He can’t help but pull her close, tug her into him so she’s flush against him and he can feel her warm and alive and real.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

There’s nothing now for him but her. Nothing but her fingernails scraping through his hair and using it to tug him closer, angle his head to deepen the kiss. Tongue sliding against his, that soft breathless noise he’s heard her make when the pieces slot into place in a particularly difficult mystery, that sound of satisfaction, of a complete whole, of the world tipping back onto its axis.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

He never wants to let her go now he’s found this, torn between wanting to cradle her like something precious and fist his hands in her hair to pull her head back for easier access to her neck. Lost in the desperate longing he’s kept so deeply buried for so long and the slow dawning realisation that this is her, this is Nancy, his Nancy, finally in his arm and beneath his lips and god he wants to just live in this moment forever.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

The sigil burns as the curse fights to take hold, Temperance fighting for control even now, furious at their open defiance. He pulls back slightly, taken aback by the stinging reminder after being so lost in the feel of her. But she follows him and he cannot resist, not now, tugging her in deeper, never wanting this moment to end.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

For a moment light flares behind his eyelids, but Nancy’s hands are in his hair and pulling him closer to her, and she’s lifting up onto her tiptoes, trying to get closer, closer, always closer. He can feel it in the rapid pulse beneath his fingers, the stuttering inhalations against his cheek. She is as undone by this as he is, ripped open by hope and longing and this sudden freedom to actually touch and taste and love.

GIF Credit @nancy-drew

He doesn’t feel steady on his feet, like the world is spinning and the only fixed point are the ten places he can feel Nancy’s fingers pinning him in place like a trapped moth. The world feels like it’s burning and his chest is burning and suddenly he’s being pushed away from her by the curse exiting him, eyes still closed, like if he just doesn’t open them then he can stay suspended in this moment forever. Lips still seeking hers, brushing his nose against hers to just stay in this moment of being close to her without knowing if it’s worked or not for just a heartbeat longer.

But it’s there and it’s real in a way the abstract thought of it never was, and he still lingers, still holds on to Nancy, his fixed point, his north star, hands on her arms, her fingers, still struggling to catch his breath when Nancy has stolen it so thoroughly, kissed away every thought and feeling beyond the desire to step back in and claim her lips again.

And it’s beautiful and it’s terrifying and for a moment staring at it Ace is so completely lost, frightened by the enormity of it and the desperate hope that maybe maybe, just maybe, this will work and he can kiss her again in a moment. And as soon as he thinks of her, as soon as he looks at her again, he steadies. Because Nancy is it, she is worth anything, and if this hasn’t worked, if this is his last moment then he will go having finally known what it feels like to kiss her, to pull her close and show her just how much he loves her.

GIF Credit @horseshoe-bay-ledger

But it’s Nancy who crumples into him, and you can see the moment that he knows this hasn’t worked, that this has gone wrong and god damn it he just wants to be with the woman he loves and he could kill Temperance for doing this to them, for causing so much heartache and pain and predicting every way they were going to try and break the curse. But he can’t even allow himself to fully feel that despair and fury before he’s catching Nancy and calling for water and then more panicked for someone to call an ambulance, because he was fully prepared to put his life on the line but never Nancy’s. That was the only reason he pushed so hard, because he knew she’d be safe, that it was all him and he could take that chance if it meant trying, if it meant the chance to finally kiss her lips and pull her close.

GIF Credit @livelovecaliforniadreams

But Nancy suddenly pale and unconscious in his arms is terrifying in a way he hadn’t anticipated, hadn’t prepared for in all his musings about hope and trying and dying being worth it. A tiny voice in the back of his head telling him this is why Nancy didn’t want to try, that this was what she’d experienced with him and no it’s too much, too real, too terrifying and why won’t she open her eyes?!

GIF Credit @livelovecaliforniadreams

The adrenaline from a few moments ago replaced with something sour and terrifying that makes him want to scream at the world, promise he’ll behave, never push her again, never underestimate how much it hurt, god never kiss her again if she’ll just be ok. Anything, anything, please. Just open her eyes and breathe and tell him she’s ok. He can’t bear the thought of a world without her in it - her smile, her laugh, her brilliant brilliant mind. He’d do anything, rocked by the desperate high to low of having her and losing her and now the memory of their first kiss (their only kiss) will always be entwined with the thought of her limp and lifeless body in his arms, hair spread around them like blood, and the taste of fear in his mouth.

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