#Emps is having a bad day

[thefloatingstone]

Things I learned playing as a character who is not as friendly with Emps as my drow;

1: ANGY (using Detect thoughts on him)

2: if you have Lae'Zel in the party with you for this scene, he at one point physically rolls his eyes at her which I've never seen him do in any other scene before.

Babygirl was SO ANNOYED this time around XD like the "I still have an hour before the end of my shift" level of exhausted annoyance.

[sualocin]

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.” Ch. 1 - Harsh Beginnings

Emp!Commodus x Reader

summary: you are to be married to the emperor of rome, but he hates you. or at least he acts like it.

content warning: angst, hurt / comfort, commodus being a dick

word count: 1.8k

a/n: It is my mental illness and I get to pick the delusions. AU where Marcus died of natural causes (because I don't want my boy to go through the pain of killing his father), Maximus and co are fine with no threat to overthrow Commodus (yet?). Also I whole-heartily ignore the sister mess in this fic because god dammit let me live in my delulu thoughts where his ending is happy (because he deserves love and kindness). This is literally such a self-indulgent fic but I try to not describe the reader besides clothing and the use of female pronouns. If you catch something that does not fit let me know!

no beta reader we die like gladiators

blog dividers by @cafekitsune!

masterlist . . . read it on ao3 . . .

Commodus looked regal, sitting there in his throne above the bloodstained arena. Cerulean eyes focused on the fighting gladiators below, face propped up with his right hand, adorned with the jeweled rings of an emperor. Something like boredom was plastered across his face, at least it seemed that way from your position slightly behind him and to his left. A fitting placement for someone supposed to be the Emperor’s wife. Even seated there, fully dressed in the matching deep purples and blacks of your husband’s outfit, you felt as if you didn’t belong. At least he made it feel as if you didn’t. 

From the moment you were told that you were to be betrothed to the future Emperor of Rome, you knew it would be difficult to learn to love each other as much as your parent’s love each other. Yet, it was so easy for you to fall in love with him, almost at the first sighting of the aforementioned man. His charming smile, that you now know he put on as a mask to hide his anger from having a woman he did not know thrust into his life as his soon to be wife, as well as his enchanting words that hid his true feelings of disdain towards you, made you feel comfortable at the time. As you got settled into the palace, and interacted with his sister Lucilla  and her son Lucius more than him, the feelings of being unwanted began to sow inside of you.

It truly wasn’t bad at first, you would see him at meal times, and there he would be ‘pleasant’ to you. As pleasant as ignoring your existence could be. He instead only interacted with his sister and nephew, purposely excluding you from whatever conversation he was holding with them. There were however, a few times he did try to get to know you, most likely at the behest of Lucilla.

It was an early evening the first time he decided to enter your temporary chambers, the blazing sun just beginning to set in the expansive sky. The final meal for the day not yet served, but already you wish for the sweet comfort of your bed.

“What was your life like? Back with your family?” He questioned softly, hands fiddling with his various rings as he sat on one of the chairs provided to you when you arrived. He seemed almost nervous to be completely alone with you since your initial meeting.

“It was nice, a beautiful city if I’m honest… I was surrounded by loving parents and the greatest teachers they could find. Rolling green hills that would sprout with flowers every spring,” You replied, thinking of your beloved homeland and the wonderful people and animals that still resided there even with you gone.

Taking a moment to relish in the fact that he was sitting in your chambers, conversing with you rather than ignoring your presence entirely, you observed his more casual outfit. It consisted of a red chiton over a black tunic with a patterned cape over his right shoulder. It looked absolutely marvelous on him, but you were definitely not going to say anything like that to his face at this point in your limited interactions. Because no matter how glorious he looked, he still seemed to be upset with your presence in his and his family’s home.

“It sounds like an alluring place to call home. Do you miss it?” He asked as he finally brought his gaze up to your eyes. The genuine curiosity in his eyes confused you, wasn’t he disgusted by your mere presence? What made him have a sudden interest in your previous home? Unable to respond with his cerulean eyes boring straight into yours, you got up and moved to lean against the doorway to the balcony of your chambers in order to look out onto the great city of Rome. The slight breeze coming in makes your light blue, nearly the same color as his eyes thanks to Lucilla, stola and palla flutter behind you. 

“Of course I do,” You blurt out immediately, almost taking on a snappy tone. Tensing yourself up at the suddenness, and more importantly the rudeness of your own response to him, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. Your hands raise to grasp at your biceps to comfort your rising anxiety, your grip tightening when you hear the chair Commodus was sitting on scrape against the floor as he shoots up at your response. Even from across the room you can hear the way he inhaled sharply. You were too afraid to witness his most likely anger fueled reaction, so you stayed facing the city and the setting sun.

“I did not ask for this betrothal!” He exclaims, hands slamming down on the table. His breath coming out in short huffs. Tension just radiating off him in waves.

“I didn’t either,” You manage to croak out as your eyes begin to mist over, fingers tightening their almost impossible tight grip already. At the sound of your voice, Commodus lets some of the tension release as he realizes just what his little outburst did to you.

“...I am sorry,” He whispers, gaze focused on the table below him, sincerely regretting his anger towards you. A second passes after his apology, and then he rushes out the door leaving you to wallow in your feelings of anxiety and uncertainty. 

The last meal of that day was tense, no conversations were held that night between anyone as they ate and drank. Not even between Lucius and his mother. It was as if anyone who entered the room could sense that something had happened between the two of you. You could feel Commodus glance at you every so often as the meal went on, but you kept your eyes on your own plate and cup. As soon as you finished, or rather as soon as you felt you couldn’t stand to be in that room for any longer, you excused yourself back to your chambers. It was after you left that Lucilla finally spoke to her brother.

“Commodus, what did you say to the poor girl?” She asked, resting her chin on folded hands and looking straight at him. She knew he could not lie to her, at least she would know if he did.

“I told her what I felt I needed to,” was the only response she would get from him before he abruptly got up from his seat and left the table. 

‘Perhaps they are more alike than they realize,’ Lucilla thought.

It was about two days later when Lucilla caught you watching Commodus train, tunic-less mind you, with his praetorian guardsmen in the expansive courtyard. She could see your eyes following his movements, so intensely zoned in on watching that you didn’t even hear her approach.

“He is quite proud of his swordsmanship,” She told you as she stood behind you. You rapidly inhaled and jumped slightly, hand moving up to fall over your racing heart from the scare.

“Gods above! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You harshly whispered over your shoulder at Lucilla, heartbeat steadily calming down from the unexpected interruption. You turn your gaze back to the ongoing spar. Hearing the grunts and exclamations coming from Commodus and his guardsmen was very alluring, along with being able to see the sweat that drips down his exposed body. Even with the feelings of hatred towards you, he was a handsome man. Who could fault you for thinking so? 

“How are things going between you two?” Lucilla asked, coming forward to stand by your right side and face you.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” You retorted. Head shifting to have Lucilla in your frame of vision. The sounds of the spar fading to the background.

“Commodus… he needs time to trust people. I think Lucius and myself are the only people he truly trusts with every fiber of his being. I wouldn’t take it to heart if he has done anything to upset you,” She explains, left hand coming up to rest gently on your shoulder.

“Do you feel anything for him? In any capacity? Knowing where your feelings stand could help me with giving you proper advice,” Lucilla continues, eyes full of sympathy for your ongoing problem.

“The worst thing about this situation is that I think I do feel some sort of way towards him that isn’t absolute contempt or hatred,” You said, taking a deep breath before you continued.

“I see the way he treats you and Lucius. I see how gentle, kind, and compassionate he can be towards the people he loves. It hurts me to know that I will not receive that same treatment he gives you, because I am simply not someone he loves or will ever love. Even if I desire to be,” You admit your thoughts to Lucilla with a slight tremble in your voice, your true emotions about Commodus rising to the surface of your mind and heart. 

“The wedding is in a month's time, how could I get him to feel some type of way towards me that isn’t pure hate?” You could feel your eyes misting up from the anxiety deep inside you about everything that has and will happen to you because of this arrangement.

The spar in the background was beginning to wind down, both Commodus and his guardsmen started racking their weapons and wiping away their sweat from their hard workout. Turning your head towards the courtyard at the change in noises, you were greeted by a very glorious sight. Commodus, still tunic-less, basking in the rain of cool water being poured over his head. You felt your cheeks burn at the very enticing sight before you. Being able to witness the vision of a dripping wet Commodus with his head tilted towards the sky and his eyes closed was like looking at a god among humans. Lucilla, dropping her hand from your shoulder and turning her head towards whatever had caught your gaze again, was not shocked to see you eyeing her brother. She hid a quiet chuckle behind her hand at the sight.

“You look at him with such wonder in your eyes. I think you enjoy the sight of him more than you let on,” She said, words shocking you out of your trance forcing you to look towards her again.

“Come by my chambers when you’re done here, we will discuss your situation at length,” Lucilla winked at you as she turned and walked away towards the inside of the palace. You faced back towards the courtyard, cheeks still hot from the words said to you and the beautiful visual you had gotten, startled to find that Commodus had been watching you and his sister interact just out of earshot. His piercing cerulean eyes caught yours, but you could not identify what emotion was held in them. Could he tell what you and his sister were talking about? Gods, did he hear? You broke the miniature staring contest between the two of you and rushed towards the location of your temporary chambers, wanting to get away from the awkward situation brewing between you two.

There's the first chapter! I wanted to get back into fanfiction writing for a while now and having little fics about this subby lil man got me kicked into gear! Idk how many chapters it will have, but I am excited for this story to unfold!

tags: @darknessisafriend

[anika-ann]

Take the Ache - pt.3

Part 3: The Soul in Soldier On

Type: series, slightly canon-divergent, idiots in love with sprinkles of angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 6950

Series masterlist (and summary)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, near-death experience, Steve raising his voice, slight angst, communication skills that need some improvement, language

A/N: written for Stella’s Starry Winter Sky challenge, using various prompts; DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; the title is, just like chapter titles, taken from The Script’s No Good in Goodbye

A/N 2:  No use of Y/N. Main character’s nickname made up by Steve is 'Lo (will be expalined at some point, promise). Thank you for reading so far and enjoy 💕

Steve’s glare – that near-murderous glare you had believed only to be reserved for the likes of HYDRA or Tony when he was being overly unreasonable – hurt.

You might not be willing to admit it, but the ache from having it directed on you was so acute it made it hard for you to breathe.

You had thought you had braced yourself enough, having counted on Steve not being happy when you’d step inside the Quinjet – but clearly you had not.

Seeing him again was like a slap to the face and for once it had nothing to do with jealousy – it was simply his look. The flames in his blue irises burned so icily when he watched you stride in with a box of equipment that you might as well get a frostbite in their pyre. His disapproval of you showing up mere minutes before the jet would head straight into the lion’s den again was crystal clear; and he didn’t even know half of it.

But he was not the only one whose emotions were burning like a wildfire.

It had been long two days for all of you.

Two days of gathering more intel, of training, of Natasha recovering not only in the cradle but also in physical therapy. Two days of having your nose buried in the dismantled EMP and the ruin it had caused, two days of cooperating with the applied sciences department, two nights of next to no sleep; that was how little time you had. You hadn’t even considered actually repairing the destroyed gear for your team as there were more pressing issues; after all, with the exception of Steve’s shield, you had an extra piece of everything. Examining the nature of the damage done was much more important than repairs themselves.

Because the damage done could be hiding the key to preventing another hit and if you were lucky, reversing the effects of the EMP.

The good news was that you were rather confident that you had found the key; now you just had to make it work.

The bad news was that time truly was a luxury.

You didn’t have a second to spare. The Avengers including Sharon were heading to face the rogue HYDRA agents from very fraction that had knocked out your equipment with the bloody EMP now.

The mere idea of letting them face it again without help was suffocating. However, the fact they were to fight the same people who had hurt Nat through your invention, even if indirectly, had the cold of your fear burst into blazing determination.

And the fact Steve looked like he was going to block your path and prevent you from doing your job of protecting them, his shoulders squaring upon seeing you instead of gracing you with one of his usual warm smiles, was almost enough for your growing anger to swallow the hurt. He could brace all he wanted; there was no way he could ever make you sit back on your ass at the compound, when the solution – a shield of its own – was at your fingertips.

And if he did think he could stop you, well he'd better think again.

Disapproval bounced off of each of you like a damn ping-pong ball even before either of you opened your mouth, but as much as you cared for Steve – a lot more than was comfortable or even bearable – you were not going to take whatever bullshit he was about to throw at you.

Because this wasn’t about him. Not only.

And while you knew all too well that he was a force of nature moulded into a shape of a man, you knew that not even Tony’s Mark 63 would be able to drag you back to your lab at the moment.

“What are you doing here?”

You winced at Steve’s sharp tone, swallowing the ‘hello to you too’; and cursing internally as even in your state of mind and heart, you could not not notice the beautifully cut features of his face as if standing out thanks to his own distress.

You wished he at least wasn’t so distractingly gorgeous when he was about to pick a fight with you; his nearly unearthly beauty was almost more absurd than the fact he of all people was picking up a fight with you.

Your closest friend – the man whose company you longed for in any form, your heart yearning for his arms around you, his tender fingers in your hair, his lips on yours – was mad at you for showing up. You were aware his turbulent emotions probably had little to do with your person and more with concern for the safety of his team, but that didn’t make your ribcage ache any less. Because no matter how silly your dreams and dust of hopes were, you were friends. And despite the pressure you knew Steve felt, you wished he would have treated you more like your friend Steve and less like the Captain and the head strategist of the Avengers Initiative.

But you couldn’t have all that you’d wish, could you? You had already established that. And that as fine. It was dandy, because time was a luxury you did not have and thus you could not spend the precious entity on wallowing in your sad little feelings.

Still, your gaze instinctively flickered to the person who had actually invited you here despite your best efforts not to and to stand your ground on your own instead.

Steve’s glare followed your line of sight, his jaw set so tight it might cut glass.

“What the hell is she doing here, Tony?” he demanded, the words barely making it through his grinding teeth.

“Jesus, Steve, have some manners…” Bucky muttered under his breath on your right, but Steve paid him no more mind than to you all of sudden.

He was too busy seething.

His hands were curled into fists, drawing attention to just how nice his hands looked in the fingerless gloves that might have not been a fashion statement, but sure were an art in their own right. It was maddening, really-

Tony only sighed as he made his way to your pair nonchalantly, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Why Steve, Heron’s here because she’s been designing a weapon that could withstand the EMP hit –or better yet, reverse it,” Tony informed him, shooting you an encouraging smile that seemed to irritate Steve further.

Steve’s reaction, in turn, irritated you; your emotions, having already been on edge for days, threatened to spill over. Again.

“Great. So she can hand it over and stay in the lab-“

“Stay safe, you mean,” Sam suggested helpfully, earning an icy glare that could scorch the earth.

“Yes, safe,” Steve echoed. “That’s my whole point-“

“You have a funny way of making that point then,” you interjected, your heart skipping a startled beat when Steve’s gaze snapped back to you.

Even as you caught the slightest flicker of shame in his features, you winced again and swiftly averted the weight of smouldering gaze.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of the power you knew hummed under the surface, of the knowledge he could just could snap you in half – if anything, that thought made your heart beat even wilder, unnervingly so, because you so did not have time nor mental capacity to deal with that, nor with the way he looked so majestic and righteous in the stealth suit – but the lack of gentleness and understanding you were used to was like a heartburn you did not know how to swallow.

Even with a job to do, you weren’t sure how to hold you head high.

You couldn’t turn off your emotions when the situation demanded it like most people on this jet; after all, you were not an agent, which, obviously, was the whole damn problem.

So she can hand it over and stay in the lab, Steve had all but spitted.

It shouldn’t have stung so sharp but it had.

“It’s not ready yet,” you explained, voice less steady than you’d like. “I need more time. Hopefully I’ll have it prepared by the time we land and can give you a fairer fighting chance by knocking out their biggest weapon-- but I need time for that,” you added when Steve opened his mouth to protest, your determination finally rendering your tone uncompromising. “So I’m coming with you, whether you authorised it or not, because you don’ hold all the power there is. Deal with it.”

Steve’s jaw ticked the tinniest bit; as you dared to meet his gaze, the emotions in his irises raged like a sea disturbed from its peace by a violent storm with your name.

He leaned in, lips parted with an invitation to be kissed or argued with – but as he sucked in a breath, a new voice, soft but resolute, joined the conversation from your left, causing your gut to clench uncomfortably and your eyes burn with something else than determination.

“Oookay, alright. Why don’t we all take a breath and think for a bit. We need to go over the plan again anyway,” Sharon said.

You did take a deep breath.

You did so even as it felt like you were stranded in a desert and the sight of Steve’s shoulders slumping a bit, his expression softening with concern just a fraction as if he was finally reacting to a voice of reason just because it was Sharon’s, made you feel like the air you breathed in was full of grains of sand, stinging and scratching in your lungs.

You cleared your throat and pretended to be brave in face of heartache and being on a jet which would head in direction of trained killers, nodding to yourself as you tightened your grip on the box in your arms.

“I need to get working. Excuse me.”

As you pushed past suddenly speechless Steve, Tony gracefully offering to carry the equipment for you, you’d swear you heard Bucky mumble ‘great job, punk,’ and Steve damn-near growl in return with a gratuitous ‘fuck’ on his lips.

Your stomach had swung at the take-off, the reality of the danger you were heading towards slowly sheeting you as you had settled at your make-shift workshop, trying to ignore the low voices discussing the plan of attack. However, your nerves had quickly dispersed, replaced by the acute need to get things done; because you had maybe minutes. You had been but a mere step from finishing the ‘EMP eater’ – patent pending – and your only chance was to finish it in time.

And you did.

When the weapon’s control light flickered to life, an astonished gasp left your lips, automatically curling up in a victorious smile, your heart fluttering with familiar excitement.

Eureka!

You did it.

Fucking take that, HYDRA. You’ll be eating dust, you bit back, smirking.

Hell yeah you did that. You got the EMP reflector – and perhaps that was a better name – ready in time.

If only the euphoria spreading in your veins wasn’t iced down so soon with the realization of what the next phase was.

Because next phase in development of anything was testing.

You had all the faith you could afford in your invention, always had, but you had one clear rule you’d push for come hell or high water:

You would never let anyone face the enemy with an untested prototype.

You gulped at the unfamiliar tickle of panic in the back of your throat, your gaze flickering to Tony who was still talking to Steve, Mr. Butt-headed Head Strategist himself. You heart threatened to give out with how fiercely it thundered against your sternum, but you knew you had no choice.

Calling out Tony’s name lowly earned you two pairs of eyes on you; one curious, the other sharp. While Tony made his way to you, Steve turned to Sharon and you’d swear that in that moment, you barely cared about the fact he turned to her like a goddamn sunflower to the sun. You were a little too taken by the fact it took Tony once glance at you to know.

You and Tony had never really understood each other without words, which had everything to do with the fact he was the definition of hyperverbal; but today you did.

You got it, didn’t you.

Yes.

Is it time then? his eyes inquired, concern drawing his eyebrows together even as it could not quite hide the flash of mischief and excitement in his irises.

You nodded, even as the movement was shaky. Yeah, Tony. It’s time. …I’m terrified, but it’s time.

Eu-fucking-reka.

The fact your knees still felt a little weak a few minutes later, now dressed to the part and clinging to your little device like a lifeline, did not make approaching Steve any easier.

He took one glance at you, his eyes going almost comically wide with shock before they regained the fiery rejection from earlier; blew it to proportion, in fact.

Steve Rogers was a tall man, but as his spine straightened with indignation, he seemed to grow another five inches, his hands curling into fists so tight you were sure that had his forearm not be covered, his tendons would all be on full display with the powerful clench, which would be a sight to beho--- so not the time.

You inhaled shakily as his face seemed void of any emotion bar the simple resolute no written all over.

“You’re not serious. You’re not coming with us into the field-“

“None of you can operate this weapon, Steve,” you blurted out before he could protest further. Mostly because it’s a prototype I haven’t tested yet and I’d never fucking let you touch an untested weapon, you nearly added, hoping that much was obvious. “I can. And Tony gave me protective gear-”

“Seriously, Stark?” Steve snapped to the man and you regretted having mention Tony even as your intention had merely been to give credit where it was due and express your gratitude, rather than shift the focus of Steve’s – partially understandable – anger. “You just happen to keep gear and Kevlar lying around to fit her perfectly.”

Tony, for his part, was perfectly nonchalant again, which you knew would only pissed off Steve further; but you had to admit it was a little funny to watch him be so when he was speaking on your behalf. It certainly was a welcomed distraction from the deep pit inside your stomach that had formed there the second you realized you had not, in fact, had any other option that to go face bloody HYDRA agents.

“Of course not. I don’t just happen, Rogers. We’ve worked on it together specifically to make it fit her and her needs, just in case she ever did need to come with us to the field. My idea. What can I say, I’m a visionary. You’re welcome.”

“That’s never meant to be an option! She’s not--- I can’t-“ Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he averted Tony’s challenging gaze, his chest expanding rapidly and deflating as his eyes flickered briefly over you only to return to Tony himself. “Did you give a single thought to her safety? What if we can’t protect her out there?”

You gulped. The sentiment was very sweet and echoed your own fear; but it had nothing on a fear much greater, one that had anger at Natasha having been hurt and at Steve talking about you as if you weren’t standing right there simmer in your lungs.

“Well then we’re not much of mighty heroes, are we?” Tony shot back, one corner of his lips quirking in a smirk that alone had Steve bristle before Tony even continued. “But sure, if you hate the gear I made so much, we can just give her a simple bulletproof vest and a helmet that doesn’t really fit-”

If Steve had glared at you murderously when you had bordered the jet, right now, Tony was being murdered by the most painful and slowest death possible.

Not that it made him as much as flinch.

Briefly, you wondered if a few years of glares like that from Steve would make you just as immune; you hoped to never find out. Though as with the current state of your relationship with Steve, it seemed you just might.

You could almost see the wheels in his head turning, all the alternatives projecting in his head like a movie about goddamn time-loops, tens of versions of reality changing based on his decision, going through every possible outcome, possible risks and potential damage, his strategic mind carding through the scenarios and frantically searching for the one with least danger to his team.

And you knew exactly which option he’d have to choose, inevitably coming to the same conclusion as you had, but you still held your breath, your heartbeat seemingly filling the space of the jet.

You straightened as if jolt of electricity ran up your spine when Steve’s eyes suddenly turned to you, your nerves at the serious stare he casted your way making words come out before you could think twice.

“Oh, so you know I’m actually standing right he-“

“You don’t disobey a single order,” Steve said flatly. “You never stay alone. You don’t do any unexpected moves. If you get hurt, if you get as much as goddamn scratch, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you understand that, Heron?”

“Yes, Captain,” you said automatically, wishing you could say you sounded sassy like Tony would, but you did not.

You were too consumed by shame at what Steve’s Captain voice did to you even when you were at odds with him. And too scared and too stunned by the fact he actually did agree with you going.

Steve did not seem satisfied with your answer, taking a step closer. Tony, bless him, somehow got the hint for once –being oh so satisfied with winning so easy too, no doubt – and disappeared into the depths of the Quinjet.

You, in turn, gulped as Steve loomed over you.

“Steve, I-“

“Lo, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, like a heart attack, I know-“

“No, you don’t,” Steve interjected matter-of-factly, something so familiar and gentle creeping into his voice, making your breath hitch and the rest of the world fade away. “I-- we cannot have you hurt, we cannot lose you. I know you work with weapons, I know you know this, but the people we’re about to face have no conscience and they won’t hesitate to shoot to k-…”

He licked his lips and lowered his gaze as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the word that had your temples throb with fear.

And then, your own fear seemed to dissipate into thin air, just like you knew it would if Steve had only touched you and unwittingly lent you some of his strength and bravery. With tenderness contrasting almost absurdly with his previous outbursts, he placed his palms on your shoulders, their warmth seeping into your skin even through Kevlar, his gaze boring into yours with urgency that had your heart flutter. His voice, as if following the lead of his touch, grew softer as well, almost pleading.

“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to do this. Just give us the… whatever brilliant device you created and walk us through it. I can-“

“I want to do this, Steve,” you opposed, relaxing slightly at his offer – one you knew you couldn’t accept, for so many reasons, but welcomed it nevertheless, the outstanding prove of his care for you you had craved so much. “They hurt Nat. They hurt my friend, and could have killed her. They could have killed all of you and I won’t stand for that.”

His gaze roamed your face, frows furrowed worry that had every cell in your body shudder, something soft and warm humming inside your chest – and for a moment, you granted yourself a few seconds of revelling in that feeling. Basking in Steve’s proximity, his sincere concern for your safety that seemed to reach beyond you being under his command; and all that pain of the past weeks felt so silly all of sudden, your heart a fool not for having fallen for him, but for avoiding him and trying to push away the sweet ache of being hopelessly in love with him.

His thumb ran gently over the curve of your shoulder, squeezing lightly as he took a deep breath, his voice heavy with gravity.

“You stay with at least one of us at all times. Anyone starts shooting, you duck, you hide, you listen-“

“-and don’t disobey a single order, yes, I heard you the first time.”

The sound of your name on his lips was coloured by exasperation and urgency, his hands flexing on your shoulders. You instinctively covered his hand on your right shoulder, the tender gesture causing him to relax slightly, an emotion etched onto his face you had trouble deciphering with how busy you were with calming your racing heart, humming contentedly at his proximity after having been pushing him away.

“Steve. I get it. I did hear you,” you whispered, a lame attempt at a joke rising one corner of your lips in a lopsided smile even as it was the furthest thing from fun: “Unlike some people on this plane, I don’t have a death wish-”

From a terrible distance, Bucky’s cough clearly covering a laugh reached you, flushing your cheeks with realization of the – dare to say intimate – exchange between you and Steve being observed by others.

And yet; you didn’t care zilch for anyone watching when Steve’s right hand shifted, now resting on the curve between your throat and shoulder, thumb accidentally brushing your jaw, causing you to gulp at the profound sincerity in his gaze and words alike.

“Noted, but please understand. I’m not--- I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you, Lo. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I—you just… you haven’t been trained for this. I’m worried about you.”

A vacuum born in a middle of an aircraft.

Someone must have sucked out all the air out of the space of the jet, that was the only explanation for why your chest felt so full, so heavy and so light at once.

Hypnotized by Steve’s gaze, you’d swear you could drown in the gentle blue of his irises, your only salvation being the warmth still radiating off his palms and the expression on his face, which had at some point drawn rather close to yours. Your head was spinning as tip of his thumb almost, almost angled your head up to make sure you held his gaze. Almost as if he was cradling your jaw to kiss you-

“I worry about you every day,” fell from your lips unwittingly, the flash of something in Steve’s expression starling you and causing you to inhale shakily. “Uhm, I mean… about all of you. But, uhm I-- I’ll be fine. I have the mightiest heroes to protect me while I try to protect them.”

“Yes,” he whispered, a statement and an oath. “Yes you do.”

You have us. You have me.

For the briefest moment, Steve appeared to be contemplating the greatest mysteries of life and universe, holding you gaze with such intent you’d believe he had found the answers to them right there in your eyes, your lips parting as breath caught in your throat. His gaze flickering down and back up. His own pretty pink lips pursed the tinniest bit as if in invitation – or perhaps you were imagining things, you had to be – and to hell with everything, you were seconds from leaning closer just to find out if they were as soft as they appeared and as you had always imagined.

And then you heard someone draw in a cautious breath, reality settling in and you withdrew, seeing Sharon from the corner of your eye leaning onto the near stack of boxes, the sight like a bucket of icy water poured into your lungs, Steve’s hands sliding from your shoulders, one of them hovering by your arm.

You could smack yourself.

You could touch a living wire and it would not be enough of a punishment for allowing yourself to get wrapped up in a little fantasy world, in the castles in the air Steve’s soft words and touch had drawn in perfect detail despite not giving another promise than to protect you like he would for anyone.

Idiot. Stupid, foolish little idiot, what were you thinking, even indulging in a feeling like this-

“I’ll do it,” Steve said as if knowing exactly what Sharon was about to say and it should have been like another slap to your face. But for all your scolding and your racing heart that had begun to ache all over again, you cared little for the future lovers’ telepathy, only caring about the strange emotion, deep even if undecipherable, etched into Steve’s features. Caring about how the ‘I’ll do it’ sounded like it had less to do with a Captain being responsible for his subordinates’ safety and more about his loved ones, romantic or platonic ones. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll brief her and then let you guys know if there any changes.”

It was silly and you knew sobering up would hurt; but in order to not fall apart at the thought of going somewhere where HYDRA agents would shoot at you, you allowed the petty victory of Steve taking care of you personally and caring wash over you, charming up a small reassuring smile.

“Thank you, Steve.”

Your smile slightly widened as Steve, walking you through the plan and blueprints, demanded at least three times if you were sure and whether the Kevlar-lined uniform and the cowl were good enough quality.

You forgave him the foolish question, mostly offended on Tony’s behalf rather than your own; but mainly grateful he still cared enough to ask.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sam’s smirk and Bucky elbowing him to the ribs as if to stop it.

Walking into enemy territory with the Avengers felt like entering the most surreal of dreams.

In your own uniform and with your own – dare to say – weapon, perhaps you might fool someone into believing that you belonged; which was even more surreal that the fact you were here in the first place.

And yet, the most surreal of all things was the fact that you not only appeared to be but actually also felt strangely, deceivingly calm; and if not calm, than certainly less nervous that you had expected.

You assumed you had Steve to thank for that.

Just like with the briefing, he took it upon himself to be the closest to your side, to act like your main shield, figuratively and literally.

With him, he brought a wave of reassurance rising like a tide to wash over the exposed edge you’d find yourself on, the whisper of safe growing louder whenever the lightest of touch of a hand brushed over your side, your arm, whenever the advance allowed him to do so.

It warmed your rapidly beating heart, increasing the whoosh of blood past your ears, despite the logical part of your brain telling you that his decision wasn’t only a personal one, but also a strategic one.

He was the one most likely to protect you even if the EMP hit before you could use the device.

You had tried to lace Tony’s suit with as similar EMP-resistant alloy as the applied sciences could develop with the weapons you had got your hands on, but it was no guarantee – and without his full control over the suit, he might be relatively safe, but unable to properly defend anyone else.

Bucky’s vibranium arm was a fine complicated net of connectors, inductors and well-integrated circuits that might have been made to withstand physical force, but less so an EMP hit.

Sam’s wings too could turn into a nuisance upon the discharge. Sharon was a separate entity as her task was to hack into the network and let you all in with Clint as a back-up. Bruce was, in Steve’s opinion, a little too unpredictable. And Natasha was still recovering, left to remotely help you coordinate from the compound if needed.

On the other hand, Steve’s only three pieces of electronics were his StarkWatch, the comms and the sleeve with electromagnets for his shield which was more of a question of comfort than a necessity.

Him becoming your designated guardian was a natural choice.

And it was all turning out almost dandy.

Sharon hacked in. Clint had all of your sixes. No sight of an EMP as per Tony’s scanners, not yet anyway. You advanced through the building, relatively quiet and stealthy, your team’s voices in your ear and Steve’s occasional touch grounding you as your heart kept picking up its pace the deeper into the facility you went, your breaths turning shaky, your stomach beginning to coil uncomfortably with a warning from an instinct as old as humanity.

And then it all went to shit.

Steve leaving your side shouting at you to take cover in a large space of a warehouse where there was barely anything to hide behind.

Flashes and terrible cacophony of gunshots.

Metal hitting metal.

Bodies hitting the ground.

Wet sounds of blood following dull punches to what must have been bone.

Sparks flying and your vision instinctively blurring with distressed tears as your heartbeat grew so loud and frantic it nearly swallowed the terrible noise of a battle.

And yet, one thing pierced through like a lightning through the skies.

“Heron, now!”

Two simple words, spoken urgently over the comms, Clint’s voice with an unmistakable tinge of pain.

You winced, the sound cutting through you like a knife.

They needed you.

They needed you now, because your name wasn’t a warning but a prompt. A plea. The EMP was here again. And it was about to be discharged and your friends were about to be rendered powerless and made vulnerable.

Well, not in this fucking life. Not on my watch.

You scrambled to move from behind your improvised hide-out, the metallic edge of your EMP dampener digging into your palms painfully as you peeked over the shelves stuffed with containers.

For a moment, the sight of the fight stopped you short in horror, the only thing circuiting and rebooting painfully fast being your brain, a sharp haziness taking over your perception.

And for that split second, you wondered if this was how Steve saw the world with his enhanced senses; it hit you all at once, a cacophony of a battle captured in a slowly moving image.

The copper smell of blood and gunpowder; the still noise of violence; the salty tang of sweat and the bitter taste of adrenalin on your tongue; the weight of your own device nearly succumbing to gravity at the sudden weakness in your hands.

Tens of agents clad in black with a startingly red symbol on their biceps.

Automatic electricity-powered riffles. 

The EMP whose every fucking circuit you knew like the back of your hand by now.

The Avengers, standing almost in line like avenging angels, way closer to you than you had thought as they had taken down all of those who had come at them before – real, unconscious, hurt people scattered across the floor.

All of your friends breathing heavily from exertion; and some of them in the air.

Perhaps it was the adrenalin, but you’d swear you could hear the EMP charging, ready to be fired, and the world stopped altogether. A still image pulsing in sync with your own heartbeat.

Tony and Sam in the air.

Bucky clenching his metal fist.

Clint reaching behind him to grab another arrow his automatic quiver offered him.

Sharon wearing Natasha’s new bites.

All of them but mere seconds from being knocked down – some more literally than others.

Not in this fucking life.

Not on my fucking watch.

You were not sure if you truly were so fast, perhaps having borrowed some supersoldier speed; or if the world around you truly turned so slow.

But you sprang from behind the containers and fell on your knees, the pain not quite registering as you slid just under Sam’s feet.

You punched the button on your dampener with all your might, the blue control light turning green a split second after the crackling sound of electricity rushed through your body.

An elementary knowledge said: when everything works as well and safe as it’s supposed to, electricity is meant to be invisible.

And yet.

You saw it.

You felt it.

And it hurt.

You’d swear you could see the wave of the EMP discharge meet the wave sent by your dampener halfway, if a little closer to your part of the room.

The part of the room you had been in before the burning current of pain rushed from your hand through your arm straight into your chest and sent you flying backwards, a dull sound of someone shouting your name reaching you from a terrible distance.

There was fire licking at your veins, a crushing weight settling on your chest, a blur of gorgeous dark blue moving like a shadow behind your eyelids despite your eyes remaining wide open.

The phantom sound of your name haunted your ears over your own heartbeat punching like a sledgehammer inside of your skull. Someone’s gentle but urgent touch was on your arms, squeezing and you realised your lips were moving just as urgently, your words hopefully making sense – even as they didn’t seem to make sense to you at the moment.

“Go. Go, I don’t know--- how long they will-- be done— down.”

The EMP. The dampener, you thought you meant.

If all the gods and patron saints of science and technology aligned and blessed you, you had managed to not only protect your friends from the hit, but sent the very hit back at the bastards who had fired it, disabling their own weapons.

The voice and the grounding touch disappeared with reluctance and a frustrated grunt; the weight on your chest stayed.

Were you breathing? Your lungs burned, so you probably were.

But were you?

Your back laid on something solid and cold and uncomfortably hard; but you had the perfect view of the blurs and chaos in front of you. A wall then, not the floor.

The chaos. The noise. Sledgehammer inside your skull.

Useless, hungry sucks of breath.

Punches. Fire. Cracks.

Flurry of movements; someone always appeared to be in front of you to block your hazy view. To protect you.

But that didn’t really matter, because you couldn’t breathe.

It felt like a damn quinjet was sitting on your sternum and was not about to take off.

Where had all the air gone?

A pair of pretty blue eyes attracting your gaze like a magnet, pulling you into its orbit with inevitability.

Warm leather and hot skin brushing against your cheeks a your cowl was pushed back – by Steve’s palms, you thought – fingers spreading to cradle your head, keeping your face upright and helping you to hold his gaze. What a gentleman.

Now if he could just get you some air too. Maybe from his own lips, they seemed so close and so far away.

“Talk to me, Lo. Tell me what-“

His voice was really pretty, that commanding tilt to it that would have made your head spin if it wasn’t already spinning like crazy.

“Sent it back-“ you rasped, your lips feeling strangely dry and tingly, but it didn’t matter, because Steve was asking a question and Steve had to be answered to. “The frequency should have--- reverse it and--- penetrate the mat-- material you-- brought me.” You were sure you drew in a breath but the air was not there, where was it--- Steve seemed to be alright, even if a little scared – or was he proud? Why was shaking his head? “Turning the discharge--- against them.”

You tried to gather strength to cough to release the pressure in your lungs; one of Steve’s hand must have moved from your face, because the warmth disappeared from one of your cheeks and it reappeared like a rather painful squeeze on your shoulder.

Your coughing didn’t work. You tried to breathe in –but it was not working.

It was not working.

“Lo, sweetheart, not what I meant. You need to slow down your breathing-“

“Can’t-“ breathe at all, you heard yourself wheeze, confused by Steve’s insane request to breathe less.

A firm grasp on your wrist pulled your attention form the lovely sea of panicked blue, a curse reaching your ears, a pull on your wrist as Steve tore your StarkWatch away, a blur of quick dextrous fingers pulling off his glove and taking of his watch too, putting the latter back on your wrist instead.

Were his hands blurry because you had tears in your eyes, because he was moving so fast, or because his hands were shaking? It looked a little like they were shaking. Your vision was closing off from its edges, however, so that might have been your imagination.

“FRIDAY, run the analysis--- Lo, does your chest hurt?”

You were vaguely aware of your heavy hand, the one Steve wasn’t holding, gesturing somewhat, glad he finally fucking noticed.

“Can’t--- breathe-“

“Agent of codename Heron is experiencing a severe arrhythmia-“

Oh okay that explains a lot, screamed your mind with surprising clarity, the world around Steve gaining sharper edges for a brief moment. There was the red and gold of Tony’s suit somewhere on your left, the glint of Sam’s wings near him too.

“What can I do, FRIDAY?” Steve barked, sharp and with an unfamiliar edge that sounded a whole lot like fear that would have grown in your chest too had there been any space left under the crushing weight sitting on it already.

“Immediate medical evac recommended, with an AED and medical personnel at hand for the duration of the transport, and-“

You could hear the words sharply now, see Steve’s features twist, but none of it seemed to make sense as despite the haze dispersing, darkness began to swallow the edges of your vision again.

Nothing made sense anymore but the terrified blue of Steve’s eyes.

Then, a wild swing of your body.

The star on Steve’s chest.

The unforgiving yet soft material of his suit.

His voice.

“Stay with me, Lo. Keep your eyes, open, sweetheart. We’re gonna get you home safe… You’re going to be fine… you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay…”

But you weren’t okay.

You knew as much.

Just like you knew, somewhere in the strangely clear space in your empty skull echoing your frantic heartbeat that this was your own fault. You had been stubborn and you had wanted to protect your friends and you had rules you refused to break and it had been the right thing to do but maybe you had been a little eager to prove Steve wrong and to prove yourself.

It worked out the best and worst way possible.

“Look at me, Lo, come on! Don’t do this to me!”

But you weren’t. It already had been done. And you couldn’t take it back.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that you wouldn’t if given the chance. Not really.

And so this mission – the way this fight had turned out – was killing you.

Literally.

You couldn’t breathe.

It hurt too much.

All you saw was the navy blue of Steve’s stealth suit, the silver of the star on his chest, the almost watery cerulean of his eyes shining with something so unusual for him, fear, no, terror. Your chest ached with ever attempt at a breath, numbness flushing through your veins, the memory of his gloved hand cradling your cheek and speaking words that sounded like a white noise machine turned to max and thrown under water haunting you, the ghost of his urgent touch still tickling your face.

He was speaking still. You recognized your name with difficulty, the sweet nickname whispered hoarsely as a slightly mechanical voice reported numbers that made no sense beyond ringing alarm bells and accelerating the movement of the world around you.

Other voices joined, emotions clearer than words, sounding like curses and prayers at once. A flash of Steve’s face white as a sheet of paper in your vision before harsh light replaced it, stinging in your heavy eyes, an unbearable high-pitched beeping causing your head to swim. 

And then there was darkness, wrapping you greedily in its soothing arms, in silence.

The gaping darkness that swallowed Steve as he laid your nearly limp body on the stretcher, on the other hand, was everything but soothing and silent.

And when the heart monitor his own trembling hands had helped to hook you on screamed with the absence of a normal, then sufficient, and then any heartbeat, losing the solid ground under his feet had nothing to do with the jet taking off, and everything to do with the person he loved being taken away.

He held his breath under the icy waters of pure terror until your own wasn’t restored an eternity later.

Steve swore was going to kill you himself later for giving him a scare like that. But for now, ass planted on the floor of the quinjet, head in his still unsteady hands, he let the now present beeps signalling your heartbeat wash over him, letting the few tears that escaped him wash away the images etched forever into his supersoldier brain.

Next chapter // Series masterlist

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Thank you for reading, loves! Thoughts, encouragements and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

I hope your days are full of softness and peace of mind 💕

If you’d like to be notified on updates, follow my other blog @anika-ann-writes or let me know for a tag.

[lacunammmm]

Hate how the manga kept trying to seem like it was criticizing sacrificing yourself/pushing yourself too hard as a heroic act wasn’t actually a good thing but it constantly went back to the opposite.

Aizawa and Nighteye criticizing Midoriya about rushing in without a plan? Not a problem, he’s a true hero when he saved Eri!

Pushing limits/getting out of your comfort zone is a good thing to help grow, but the manga never found a healthy balance of that theme.

Nothing encapsulates the phenomenon you described more than Iron Might. The reason Iron Might was bad, besides him absorbing the hero kid's potential fights/contributions vs AFO, the implausibility of this tech and All Might getting access to it in time, and the fact that he kept it a secret, is because it tramples all over All Might's arc for the sake of a "cool" fight We have a whole series teaching us that All Might's brand of self sacrificing heroics is bad and these actions destroy your life and the lives of the people around you. Toshinori has what, three close friends when we meet him? Nezu, Recovery Girl, and Naomasa. He hasn't spoken to Torino or Night Eye in years. Night Eye left him explicitly because of his desire to keep being All Might even if it killed him. He's forgone any sort of close relationships. He doesn't have any family. Everything has been dedicated to being the hero that society needs to the cost of his life. He's fully willing to die to ensure other people are okay. His mentality changes when he meets Izuku because he wants to live to raise him right. Great! So, he loses his powers and then he has to navigate being a mentor and teacher for the next generation. So far, so good. He sees with Deku what a lone gun mentality does. The story even has Bakugo blame all of Izuku's mental problems on All Might's teachings and behavior. Perfect. We've fully established this is bad. And then we learn that, no, actually, he had a super suit designed months ago that would let him 1 vs 1 the quirk devil and he was keeping it a complete secret from everyone. Just so he could don some ironman armor and have one last hoorah as a hero. He doesn't join Endeavor or Deku in their respective battles. No, the guy keeps this to himself so he can pull it out at the most dramatic moment possible. He let himself be swayed by Stain, a notable crazy man and All Might zealot fanboy that no, actually, All Might was perfect and he totally had the right idea about things. I wish this series would allow characters to suffer for their mistakes and arrogance. Do you know what should have happened, if we're going to allow the insanity of a super suit that can fight high level opponents like this? AFO sees Iron Might, then activates his Radio Waves quirk. You know, the quirk that has the effect of releasing an EMP wave if the user desires it? The same one he and Tomura used to bust out of Tartarus? All Might's super suit becomes an immobile metal coffin and he needs to be rescued. He actively put more people in danger because of a selfish decision he made so he could relive his hero days.

Instead of All Might stealing the spotlight from Class A, all of these students have to scramble to get hits in on AFO to save HIM! Because the story isn't going to allow a guy to go against its themes in a selfish, suicidal gambit that All Might should have grown past by now...and get away with it! It's absolutely ridiculous that a story allegedly about the next generation turned into two old men fighting. But this is an issue with MHA: it wants to have its cake and eat it too. Self sacrifice is bad, except when it works out and it's cool.

[moodymisty]

The Primarch's responses to their beloved ovulating:

Lion El'Jonson: Doesn't know what's that. When you explained it to him, he ran into the forest. However as an old daddy dilf HE acts like a cat in heat. 10,000 years without you? Even this autistically aggressive man realizes that that's bad

Fulgrim: "Bruh, I already knew". Magically, he somehows knows whenever his lover is menstruating or ovulating. If there is a blood moon, the wind is exactly at 11.5 km/h, the glass is by 0.075% wetter than usual and maybe a leap year, he'll fuck you. Otherwise, ‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️ OVERSTIMULATION ACTIVATION ‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Perturabo: Teleports behind you in bed, in the night which he calculated that you should began ovulating, and is like "Wife, wake up. It's time for your monthly pelvis rupture. Also you should be ovulating. Let me take off your underwear in order to check-"

Jaghatai Khan: You tell him you're ovulating; "Okay, let's fuck." Strips you off your clothes in .2 milliseconds, fucks you in 248 different positions in 1 minute 39 seconds and 157 milliseconds, you cum about x70 times while he doesn't sweat. He laments the fact he wasn't fast enough while letting you palm his hairy titties

Leman Russ: The most excited mf ever. He and Horus have the fattest breeding kink ever. But, unlike his bro, he completely forgets about fucking his beloved and instead goes to drink "with the mates" celebrating it. Like "YAAAAA BOYS 'AM GOIN' TO FUCK MAH WIFEY AGHHFAJGAHA"

Rogal Dorn: "No." A simple no. He denies the fact that you are fertile. However during the evening, after being scolded by Good Ol' Emps for being aggressively autistic, he comes into your chambers and silently wrecks your world as he wrecked your pussy

Konrad Curze/The Night Haunter: The type of dude trying to feed the weirdest shit "for your fertility". Like he comes in with a bowl of something strange and is "Eat this, fuck toy ⊂⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠*⁠⊂⁠)" (the type of dude to have call you the most bizarre nicknames) and you later find out it's human flesh

Ferrus Manus: His wife is already madly, completely and perfectly in love with him (as he is with her). But now she wants him more? He is the happiest man alive! The Iron Hands can't get him out of the Legion Mother's quarters during this days. When she gets out, she walks around with a limp and a huge smile on her face

Angron: doesn't understand the concept of ovulation or menstruation. If you two are sexually active, he'll fuck you whenever he feels like it. Like he'll fuck you while he's slaughtering, while he's slaughtering his sons, while he's slaughtering his brother's son's, while he's slaughtering his enemies. You'll just have to grab a book or something and be a dear about it!

Roboute Guilliman: has a mental breakdown that his logistics and excel spreadsheets were wrong about the date of when you began ovulating. Cries and you try to comfort him by giving him the sloppy toppy gooah goooah 300001.2

Mortarion: is miserably happy. His hot, gorgeous, out-of-league wife wants him even more? He'll immediately oblige to her every whim. You can expect for him to agree to fuck you in the worst situations. Like he's cumming in you while Nurgle watches on and is like "THAT'S MAHH SON. ANNIHILATE THAT HUMAN FEMALE. FLAWLESS VICTORY!!!!!". Mortarion is more horny than his wife during this time.

Magnus: When you tell him, he psychically enters your mind and makes you not forget to take your birth control pills.

Horus Lupercal: "FINALLY." *the Lady of the Luna Wolves hasn't been seen ever since.*

Lorgar Aurelian: Don't let him get to you. He's not the same man this days... The man whore is being a man whore

Vulkan: His carefully veiled breeding kink is full mode. He is even lovey-dovey, which is a lot considering Vulkan. The sex is going to be romantic, with him feeling comfortable playing with his kinks. The Salamanders worry why haven't their mother walk out of her room for 3 weeks.

Corvus Corax: he ends up crying because he knows you'll be even more insatiable. You end up riding him as best as you could and spooning afterwards :3

Alpharius and Omegon: They already know. They shall know. They must know... And you're in a room with 70 different copies of your husband. The reality of being the Lady of the Alpha Legion. "Woman with 70 different husband dies after taking too much dick"

All of these made me literally laugh out loud

But Horus and Mortarion brought tears to my eyes

[the-autistic-spider]

the plague that came to Gotham

dp x dc idea

Danny decides to go to Gotham after [INPUT TRUMA HERE]

and he doesn't go as Danny or phantom but as something new

if this was to be made i feel like Danny would not be speaking (like he could be speaking ghost or be mute because of [INPUT TRUMA HERE] who knows)

if you want the cloak could just be wings he willed into existence (like how amorpho can shapeshift and such)

with a cloak/wings made of crow feathers and a face covered by a plague doctor mask (could be hiding id or bad injury on face) he goes and starts anew

batman description attempt:

they dont speak this could be due to the mask on there face or they could have no voice to use.

also of note there seems to always be some kind of breeze around him making the cloak? wings? sway, as well as this a dark fog seems to radiate from him like smoke, it doesn't seem to hurt anyone being more like the fog you see from breathing on a cold day,

the creature despite description works in the daytime reasons unknown

theory's on what the creature is:

a human with advanced tech emp's dont affect there ability's

a mutated bird no damian

a ghost. possibly but extremely unlikely according to Constantine

an alien from off planet. possibly but nothing indicated this besides powers

meta human. again possibly but nothing indicated this besides powers

extra dimensional being. possibly but nothing indicated this as there has been no events that could cause this

prompt inspired by:

if something like this exists please tell me =]

[myadagoat22]

So I've been watching tew much dc and marvel but wtv

Bat and superfamily part 7

“Battle Lines” — A New Week, A New Villain

It was a quiet Monday morning.

Too quiet.

Y/N was sipping her second cup of coffee, still in her robe, while Bruce and Clark argued in hushed voices about who forgot to refill the milk. The kids were scattered around the house, some getting ready for school, others pretending they didn’t hear the morning alarms.

Then it hit.

BOOM.

A massive shockwave cracked through the air. The house shook. Car alarms blared down the street. And somewhere in Metropolis, the sky was suddenly... green?

Clark was at the window in seconds. “That’s not normal.”

Y/N put down her mug. “Well, there goes the peaceful morning.”

Bruce already had the Bat tablet in his hands, jaw clenched. “We’ve got incoming.”

The Villain: Surge

A new player on the scene—Surge, a tech-genius meta with the ability to manipulate energy, disrupt power grids, and turn your own gadgets against you. He was shutting down blocks of Metropolis, draining everything from satellites to cell towers—and now? He wanted to make a statement.

Too bad he picked the wrong neighborhood.

The Family Gears Up

Y/N slapped her communicator on. “Kids! We’ve got a situation. You know the drill��suit up or stay put!”

Dick, already halfway into his Nightwing gear: “Let’s gooo, I’ve been bored all weekend.”

Jason, cracking his knuckles: “Time to release some stress.”

Stephanie, throwing her hair in a ponytail: “Finally. Something exciting.”

Connor, sliding his glove tech on: “I’ll scout from above.”

Tim, tapping on his wrist computer: “I’ve already hacked into the traffic cams. Surge is heading toward City Hall.”

Damien, with his sword already strapped: “Bet.”

Jon and Duke were not about to be left behind either.

Y/N looked at Bruce and Clark, smirking. “Family field trip?”

Clark gave her a crooked grin. “Let’s go save the city.”

The Fight – Downtown Metropolis

Surge was levitating mid-air, surrounded by drones made from twisted satellite parts. Civilians were panicking. Buildings were flickering in and out of power. A giant screen showed his face broadcasting everywhere.

Surge: “The age of tech belongs to me. Step aside, heroes.”

Cue the dramatic entrance:

Clark flies in first, heat vision sizzling the air. Bruce drops from a glider with Batarangs blazing. Y/N? She straight-up dives from the jet in a golden energy burst and punches a drone mid-fall.

Dick and Steph tag-team the ground level—flipping over debris and clearing out the smaller bots. Jason jumps straight into chaos, dual pistols blazing with stun rounds. Connor and Tim go cyber—Connor in the sky holding Surge off, Tim trying to disable his gear from below. Damien, naturally, slices a drone in half with zero hesitation. Jon and Duke are helping evacuate civilians, but Duke ends up accidentally knocking over a drone with a light blast. “Wasn’t me!” Jon just shrugs, heat-visioning a support beam back into place.

Final Blow

Surge unleashes one final pulse—enough to knock half the team off balance. But Y/N, Bruce, and Clark move in perfect sync. Clark absorbs the blast. Bruce disables Surge’s main battery with a precise EMP. And Y/N lands the knockout punch that literally echoes through downtown.

Surge drops like a sack of malfunctioning microwaves.

Later at Home...

The family limps back into the house. Bruised, sweaty, covered in drone oil and tech dust.

Jason flops on the couch. “So... we still grounded?”

Y/N: “Yes.”

Dick: “Worth it.”

Jon: “Can we have pancakes now?”

Clark sighs, pulling off his suit. “I’ll make ‘em.”

Bruce is already checking the security footage. “No more villains this week.”

Damien: “Give it two days.”

(tell me how you feel about this ill stop if its cringey lol)

[bleedingichorhearts]

About yandere Emps, what would you think he would do if his beloved tried to run away?

You write so well.

Aww, thank you! Your compliment is greatly appreciated, and shall go great lengths to help my self worth.

Anyway, Yandere!Emperor. In my personal opinion, or how I write him. I believe he somehow wiggled his way into your soul, literally. He took “You’re mine” to a whole different level. So, with that said, he can sense that you’re doing something incredibly “Foolish,” and that well… that includes trying to run away from him. I mean, who in their right mind could even think of running away with a multitude of good reasons than bad? No one dares to defy the man-god of gold.

I think, however, he would give you a good chunk of second chances: mercy. His patience is high. He’s gotta have it when… whatever he’s doing. (Big Blue is doing all the work, I swear.) He’ll brush it off and simply put you back in your place; where you belong. Knowing it just your mentality cracking under his pressure.

Say about… 100-300+ tries? (Days have to like hours to them.) He starts to get… annoyed; a bit fed up. His expression somehow more stoic looking. He’ll pick you up himself and set you down in his lap, and you’re stuck there until he says otherwise. Anymore tries? He’s still looking at you like you pissed him off, and I suppose he is, but not so much so. I believe him to be the quiet anger type. (Still haven’t read much on him.)

Oh, and you’re also getting assigned a permanent Custodes after your latest escapade of stepping out side of his personal boundaries.

[megsdoodletag]

Whats updated codex Lion doing and how is he handling that hi brothers are back

lion is rockin the dad bod if i’m bein honest

ah yes. lets talk about the championship warcrimes mcgee everyone forgets to rank with the other championship warcrime mcgees.

Lion is less concerned with his returned brothers than he is with the emperor and gman. Lion’s whole deal is loyalty, particularly to those above you (we’re still working on being loyal to those who rely on you but we’re getting there). To him, emps accepting magnus back into the palace isnt so different from him collecting the Risen, but emps’ refusal to take the reigns from guilliman despite his brother’s measured response to stuff like the ecclesiarchy is baffling to him. He’s mellowed out a Lot since imperium secundus, but his most basic thought process does not understand why they aren’t all just wiping planetary governments and starting from scratch now that dad’s back. Why go through the trouble of installing the triarchy when you leave all the rest of the stupid 40k imperial bureaucracy anyway? Why is dad allowing gman’s 20 stupid space books of space rules when the first one sucked anyway?? Why isn’t dad in charge???

I say most basic thought because, again, he’s had some time, he’s done some Introspection, he has admitted to himself banishing people for mistakes is not always the neat and tidy solution it’s made out to be in his head, and that his paranoia is a problem, it’s just hard for him to change that pattern of thinking. also he’s not entirely wrong i mean. gman is slow going because he’s got approximately the entire universe on his plate but like. some of this stuff feels like something that should have a ten-step removal plan. right??? point is it’s complicated, and he doesn’t have a clean solution and is actively restraining himself from enacting his own version of a ‘clean solution’ which he’s at least learned is maybe a bad idea without running it by dad first.

In the meantime dad said to continue gathering the Risen, so that’s fine he can put his energy into that. Dad also did not say shit about the risen being not codex compliant so take that gman. so lion currently is largely occupied with trying to get his legion in order, which is a bit like herding cats pun absolutely intended. lion is constantly fighting new fissures between what he and the risen envision and what the newer astartes of his geneline are used to expecting, issues that run hot enough that there are some days where it feels like they’re creating fallen instead of saving them. it’s a constant uphill battle even with the newfound self awareness. running back and forth to gather bits of his old legion means he’s mostly out of the way of his brothers, and that’s just fine as far as he’s concerned.

That said, him and his arc are more central to Updated Codex than one might expect. For one, lion is the one who tattles on gman to emps. He takes one look at juno and goes

'i'm telling dad!!' and runs off to do just that, forcing gman to introduce juno to the wider imperium. she’s about 4 at the time.

An older Juno, as stated in the snippet below, has been boots-on-the-ground for fallen retrieval missions; in fact they were probably some of her first joint campaigns outside of ultramar/ultra successors. Lion has seen her work as and with astartes, and generally is alright treating her the way he does his formerly wayward sons.

that doesn’t mean he trusts her. The paranoia didn’t magically disappear. when she gets her own little specialist squad consisting of some weird serf, the child of a traitor, and a xeno spawn, He manages to get a dark angel attached to their retinue, and instructs him to report on their actions regularly.

Juno isn’t impressed.

Melwas is a brand new Dark Angel looking to prove himself in a time when living legends, tarnished though they may be, walk amongst them and his primarch is personally watching every move he makes. Mel has a massive guilt complex, for both genuinely enjoying the oddball squad’s company (a betrayal of his mission) and for spying on them (a betrayal of his friends). It’s a lot of pressure, which isn’t helped when, upon reuniting with a former neophyte friend of his, he is promptly subjected to a barriss offee style turncoat plot where his friend tries to kill him (and the squad) in an effort to make a point about how the DAs are losing their way of life, yadda yadda, angst, yadda yadda etc. yaaaaay!!!

He gets a weird dog and some hugs from his friends and maybe his dad figures out how to tell him in words he was handpicked for the oddball squad because lion is actually quite impressed with his level head. maybe lion will go the extra mile and figure things out with luthor and mel can make out i mean up with that friend who tried to kill him or something. who knows.

but that’s what uncle lion is up to!

[anika-ann]

Take the Ache - pt.2

Part 2: The Take in Mistake

Type: series, slightly canon-divergent, idiots in love with sprinkles of angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 4700

Series masterlist (and summary)

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical injuries, missions and weaponry, tones of self-deprecation, unrequired love (is it though), a not-so-great pun, language

A/N: written for Stella’s Starry Winter Sky challenge; DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; this prologue is a flashfoward and is very short, especially on my scale; title is, just like chapter titles, taken from The Script’s No Good in Goodbye

A/N 2:  No use of Y/N. Main character’s nickname made up by Steve is 'Lo (will be expalined at some point, promise). Thank you for reading so far and enjoy 💕

This weapon – this stupid pile of metal plates and wiring and humming electricity – was about to be murdered.

You were going to dismantle it piece by piece if you had the patience, or slam it with a hammer enough times to make it break into thousands pieces by sheer force of your frustration and guilt.

Because the damage the weapon had done was on you; at least the most savage side of the ruin.

An EMP. A stupidly advanced machine to create an electromagnetic pulse and knock out all the tech the Avengers relied on. Of course not all your weapons could have withstand that; of course it had stunned the Avengers.

Your friends, your people.

That was bad enough and you’d wish to bite off someone’s carotid just for that, perhaps even your own because you should have thought about the possibility of one of the many evils the Earth’ mightiest heroes fought operating an EMP, but it got worse.

And that was the reason why you knew you’d take a hammer for at least a part of that weapon just out of pure spite. To make it feel the pain. Inanimate objects didn’t feel pain, but the image of smashing it was too alluring and it only seemed fair.

Coming back from the mission, a little more shaken and a little less successful that usual, everyone had been so nice about it. They had been so kind and reassuring that it wasn’t your fault the second they spied the expression on your face upon seeing the destroyed gear and being explained what had happened. Upon seeing the sheer horror in your eyes when they told you the EMP had took it out and somehow absorbed the electric energy and redirected it however the person operating the EMP wished, making it all the more destructive.

They were so nice you wanted to punch something, every tight-lipped smile cutting into your gut and kindling a wildfire inside your chest. Even Sharon, the hero of the day who had been there to have Natasha’s back when she got hurt – because of course Agent Carter had been there to save the day which you were grateful for but also despised it with vigour because she had been fixing your mistakes – was sweet about it. She was enraged on everyone’s behalf but benevolent with you, genuinely not taking any credit or accepting any pats on the back, because having a teammate’s six was the basic rule.

And that was the worst part of it all; you hadn’t had your team’s back. You had fucked up.

Because you had failed to take a variable into account when creating the Widow Bites. And as they had got hit by the EMP discharge, they malfunctioned enough to burn Nataha’s wrist.

The mere idea of the pain that had to cause would be enough to chase tears into your eyes, but the worry for your friend got overruled by guilt and fury, because you hadn’t been smart enough to prevent that.

Now that was where you’d draw a line. That was where you hit your limit. The fact Steve wasn’t amongst the ones who came here to tell you this, because he had to be too damn disappointed in you to face you with how at odds you were with each other lately and with no doubt having to explain your failures to higher-ups and probably staying with Natasha throughout her treatment, because he considered everyone’s safety his responsibility, now that was just a cherry on top, wasn’t it.

You were surprised Bucky wasn’t here to snap your neck; then again, he was emotionally mature and loving enough to know being with Nat was more important at the moment, even as Clint was probably hovering in the background.

So you got Tony, Sam and Sharon, speaking to you with soft undertone of anger directed at stupid fraction of HYDRA and too much kindness directed at you, looking at you as if you were about to break down or explode any second. Because you weren’t an agent or an Avenger. You couldn’t keep your cool like they did.

You hated being talked to as if you were a toddler or another emotionally unstable human being, but they had a point.

You already began to silently dismantle this goddamn weapon they had managed to get a hand on, even as they were still standing there, waiting for god-knew-what.

Tony and Sharon took the hint eventually, supportive smiles on their faces as they left.

Sam did not.

He lingered, a little too much in your workspace, hovering like a ghost of your conscience and guilt, watching you wrestle with tools. You could feel the compassion and understanding coming off of his figure in waves and you wished you could built a dam tall and sturdy enough to withstand it until the irritation they were feeding in you could turn into crumbling self-pity and tears.

“So… you wanna get something out of your chest?” he asked, his calmness just as obnoxious as his presence, all the softer and warmer in comparison to the sharpness of the cold edge you found yourself on.

You were not sure how long you could keep balancing at the top until you tipped over to either side, one worse than the other.

“Not particularly,” you muttered.

Peeling off one of the metallic plates covering the EMP at last, you nearly cheered, grabbing the hammer and hitting it with all your might in hopes to chip enough pieces off. For analysis of the material that was not affected by the discharge and managed to absorb it the power instead. For your own dark indulgence because fuck did that feel good.

The loud bang and clatter echoed in the now almost empty room; and one would think that would chase any onlookers away.

But not Sam.

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at your method, which he probably considered simply distressed antics. He was half-right. But that didn’t matter; the way he looked at you, arms crossed on his chest, did.

“…clearly.”

You set the hammer down with an unnecessary but completely satisfactory clang and unclasped your protective googles to look at Sam, huffing.

“Look, Sam, I’m sorry, but I have some work to do, so if you could… go away, I’d appreciate it,” you said bluntly, turning back to the weapon with a mutter under your breath that felt real good to speak out loud as it had been sitting on top of your chest, heavy like a herd of elephants. “Work I’m clearly not capable of.”

You heard the soft rustle of his steps as he came closer, seeing peripherally that he uncrossed his arms. You could feel the weight of his annoyingly concerned gaze on your face, while you willed your eyes to remain on the printed circuit board of the EMP.

Interesting. Judging by the colour of the metal alone, they had definitely used a peculiar alloy for the conductive traces.

“Hey now… you know that’s not true,” Sam offered, his gentle tone both soothing and irritating, his next words painted by knowing more than anyone should. “And we both know that’s not the real problem, is it?”

The question sliced through your insides like the sharpest knife, your spine suddenly strung tight as the air in your lungs burst out in an explosion. Your hand was slamming the tweezers on the counter before you knew what you were doing, white-hot rage nearly blinding you as you spun to Sam, shame and fury firing through your nerves.

“How can you say that?! Of course that’s the real problem, Sam! Natasha is hurt because of me!”

He took an instinctive step back, raising his palms in defence.

“Okay, sorry, poor choice of words. Not the only real problem,” he corrected himself, regret lacing his warm irises. “But she’s really not. She’s hurt because the agents took us by surprise with the EMP-”

“Which took out thegear I designed-“

“As well as Tony and without which we would have been dead at least ten times before,” Sam threw back without hesitation, your argument dying on your tongue, causing you to gulp against the lump having grown in your throat, your hands trembling with echoes of the adrenalin spike. “But we’re not, because you have our back and we have each other’s back.”

Evading his sincere gaze as he spilled facts, you swallowed loudly, the all-too-familiar burn of tears in the bridge of your nose a welcomed sensation to focus on.

He was right, of course. To a point. But unlike you, Tony was out there with them and he could make up for any short-comings or lapses in his judgement.

And so was Sharon, the girl who saved them all; or protected Natasha for long enough at least.

You took a deep breath, unfocused gaze nearly swimming in the tears you stubbornly fought because they would help no one.

“So I hear. It was lucky Sharon was there, otherwise we might not be having this conversation, because Nat, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, might have gotten killed the moment she was too stunned by pain to face the enemy.”

“But she was there and so was I and you have contributed to that.”

Sam eyed you pointedly as you had no response momentarily, that all-knowing gaze of his once again rather annoying. Because yes – saying all of this it out loud did not make it any less nor any more true, but it eased the pressure in your chest the tinniest bit.

You loved him, but you hated when he was right.

“But it’s not the same, is it? I fucked up and someone else had to fix it. Here. I said it. Happy now?” you sighed, turning back to your project, mind racing as you tried your best to focus on the very real problem at hand where a solution could come much easier than the one to your current emotional state.

Brief silence settled, the fact Sam did not move an inch telling you that this conversation, this attempt at heart-to-heart, was not over, as convenient as it would be.

“Anything else you needed, Sam?”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting his weight, hand leaning onto the counter a few feet from you. “We worry about you. He’s worried about you.”

Your fingers twitched at the mention of Steve, but you stubbornly kept staring ahead, squinting at the PCB as you used the tweezers to extract the alloy and placed it into one of the glass dishes for samples.

“And he’s our strategist for a reason. He can still be little slow and blind when it comes to certain things, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam added.

You bit your cheek at the call out, the uncomfortable knowledge of Sam being aware of just how complicated your feelings towards Steve were twisting your stomach, almost as much as the hint at Steve’s care.

Yeah. You were sure Steve was losing sleep worrying about you. Unless he was using his nights to wank over the image of Sharon in her perfectly tight-

You shook your head, tearing off another piece of metal. You so did not have time for this mess, especially now.

“Well, if he’s worried, he can come and check up on me,” you uttered, hoping Sam would take the hint at last.

He did not.

He was way too invested in your emotional well-being and normally you would love that, because he was simply a good friend like that, but you did not want to deal with that now. Not ever, if it were up to you, but life wasn’t that merciful. Life was quite the opposite, in fact; such was the ultimate truth.

But you were an adult – as aware as you were of your own behaviour being a little childish – and adults had to be okay with not feeling okay.

“He’s been trying to,” Sam argued softly. “He says that the one time he caught up with you, you told him you were just going through something and you needed to deal with it alone, which, pardon me, is a terrible idea. And other than that, you’re avoiding him. Avoiding all of us.”

Am I? you wondered mutely against your better judgement, a telling sting of shame in the back of your throat.  

Perhaps you had. But you were also speaking the truth when saying you needed to deal with certain shit – in this case, heartbreak over lost chances and foolish hopes and unfair jealousy and disdain – on your own.

You were feeling rather sorry for having pushed everyone away along with Steve, but it wasn’t like your best friend was the only person who was taken by Sharon Carter’s brilliance.

Not that you felt like saying any of that to Sam, who was, despite his kindness, definitely overstaying his welcome in your workshop. You supposed it served you right and it was your karmic punishment for being at fault with Natasha’s Widow Bites.

You sighed.

“Look, Sam, I have no idea what-” You heard his snort even before you glanced up at him and saw his right eyebrow arched in challenge. Your shoulders slumped as you sighed once more, your lips pursing. “He avoided me first and he doesn’t need me nearly as much as he used to. And neither does either of you, Sam. It’s clear you all have better people to-”

“Horseshit.”

You winced slightly at the curse, but you returned your attention to the EMP, willing your voice to sound as steady and unaffected as possible despite having just revealed a very raw wound in your heart and pride.

“It is really? Come on, Sam, I might be slow and blind when it comes to certain things too, but I’m not an idiot either,” you echoed his earlier words, congratulating yourself on the steadiness of your words. “And I get it. I really do. So now, can we please finally-”

“Do you really?” he interrupted you again and you had had just enough.

Straightening your posture, you put away the tweezers again and put your hands on your hips, acutely aware of how your angry posture must have seemed absurd with the semi-fastened googles still on your face.

You must have looked like picture perfect of tragicomedy; which, you assumed, was rather fitting. The warm gentleness in Sam’s eyes made your insides clench with longing after a pair of blue eyes caring just as much about what a wreck you were; but the man behind the cerulean eyes was untouchable. He had been for a while and your own behaviour had only contributed to that. 

“Of course I do. Want me to spell it out? Fine,” you scoffed, throwing your hands up just a bit. “Fine. I get it. Sharon is… she’s everything. Of course everyone is falling for her. She’s beautiful and charming, she’s smart as hell, speaks like 8 languages, she’s badass but kind, she can talk about anything because she knows at least a little bit about everything, she’s a brutal fighter and a dead-precise shot, she’s excellent at undercover, she’s more than a decent hacker and hell, she could probably do my job with one hand tied behind her back. Blindfolded.”

Sam raised his other eyebrow at your last, obviously exaggerated note. Other than that, however, concern twisted his expression, something flashing in his eyes and telling you that you had just confirmed all his suspicions about how you felt.

Great.

Maybe you should just walk around in nude; to his observant eye, you might have as well been, stripped of all things to reveal the naked truth. Of course Sam fucking knew all about your insecurities – you had probably hinted about some of those, deliberately or not, and the rest was obvious.

A small part of you felt a little warmer, pleasantly so, grateful he had noticed, grateful that not all of his attention had turned to the newest addition to the team, but you cooled that part off immediately, tasting the poison of resentment and unfair jealousy on your tongue.

“Well, that’s another load of horseshit,” Sam hummed almost casually.

Despite knowing exactly what he was doing, you felt the acute feeling having been suffocating you for weeks slowly claw its way out and lead you straight into his trap.

“But is it, Sam? There’s one, one thing that I could possibly do better than her,” you said, raising your index finger to drive the point home, words suddenly spilling before you could stop them. “Just one. And even that I’m failing at miserably, case on damn point. She’s perfect and I really do get it. She’s all the things I said and more and I can see that she’s very… loveable. She’s everything, not to mention she’s a Carter-”

“Ah, there we go-”

“Oh go to hell, Sam!”

You threw up your hands wildly, turning away as the ugly blend of shame and frustration twisted your stomach, your voice as harsh as Sam deserved for such note, nausea rising up your throat.

“I love you, but go to hell with this-!”

You felt tears of humiliation sting in your eyes, but just before they spilled over, Sam, who had very much not gone to hell and stayed instead, pulled you into a gentle hug.

The cacophony of feelings of the past weeks and today in particular came crashing down, their weight falling on your shoulders and making you squeeze your eyes shut as you let Sam embrace you despite just having just snapped at him to get out; you were that selfish. You needed that hug that much.

Your shoulders shook with the force of your dry sobs, your teeth gritted tight as not to release a single sound, but little good did that do for the storm of emotion raging inside of you. The dam was already broken, feeling spilling out and washing over your whole being like a tsunami and you cursed Sam and thanked him at the same time, because even now, you knew you’d come out of this freer of some of your aches.

That didn’t mean you could afford lose time with tantrums nor it meant that this felt good now. In fact, this was exactly what you had wanted to avoid, but Sam’s arms held you like a tight protective cage, and it felt so damn nice ��despite those damn goggles digging into your skin.His impressive frame almost, almost made it possible to imagine this was Steve; the only person who could have possibly comfort you further, sooth your pain in but a few moments, just a few seconds to lend you some of his strength to keep you going and figure it all out.

But Steve wasn’t here. Steve had moved on, even as there was nothing to move on from but your laughable fantasies.

For someone of your intelligence – one you fairly doubted now, to be completely honest – you sure could be silly.

Your breath hitched in your ribcage, Sam’s palm gently running up and down your back.

“Hey. Hey. You’re okay, ‘Ron. I got you”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, fingers clutching at the soft material of his hoodie on his back, the few tears that found their way out soaking the front. “I’m so sorry – about fucking up, about acting like a jerk and pushing you all away because I apparently can’t do feelings beyond pride, and most of all about Nat-“

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

You tried to speak, to protest that none of it was actually fine, but you couldn’t find your voice, the only sound tearing through a dry breathless sob. And so for a moment, you allowed Sam’s words the sound of comfort rumbling in his chest wash over you. You leaned into the lie, the promise of a better future.

“Now listen to me, ‘Ron. First of all, Nat is going to be okay.”

“Not thanks to me,” you murmured at last, despite welcoming the reassurance, earning a soft slap on your back.

“Bull. Second of all, we allcare about you a little too much to have you replaced that easily.”

You huffed at that, unable to protest, because deep down, you knew he was telling the truth.

“And third, I really don’t think Agent 13 is better at everything. But even if she was, you’re forgetting one important fact.”

You took a deep steadying breath, feeling grief sparkle into indignation instead, the most effective motor of all. You released Sam’s hoodie from your merciless clutches, his arms around you loosening as he felt your need for a bit more space and you took it, knocking your forehead against his sternum with a huff.

“She’s blond, so she and Steve will be the perfect match and will make the most perfect babies?”

Despite himself, Sam snorted, the sound causing the corners of your lips to twitch upwards the tinniest bit. You stepped back slightly, meeting Sam’s sincere gaze with your teary one, his palms settling on your shoulders.

“That you are you,” he said earnestly, one corner of his lips rising in a lopsided smile. “You are incredible and more importantly, you are irreplaceable. To the AI, to the team, to your friends… and to Steve.”

You gulped, gaze flickering down at the pang in your heart, knowing all too well that while there might be some true to you being irreplaceable to Steve, you occupied a place in his heart different from what you would have wished.

“And don’t forget there’s ‘hero’ in heron. That’s not a coincidence.”

You snorted in a very undignified matter, pushing off his hands from your shoulders and stepping out of his space, his grin contagious despite the painful sincerity behind his pun.

Your nickname – codename, really – was a callback to one of the greatest inventors of all time, Heron of Alexandria, as well as to Clint reminding you not to hunch over your work and twist your neck as that of the heron bird, which Tony found hilarious. The ‘hero’ actually was a coincidence, but you had to give Sam A for effort.

“Hey, you do have our backs and we’re all aware of that. You didn’t let anyone down.”

“But I did,” you whispered, pushing past the lump in your throat. “And I don’t. I… is Nat really going to be okay?”

Sam’s grin blended into a sympathetic smile, his relaxed posture speaking volumes; he wasn’t worried about her and he believed what he way saying.

“Nothing the cradle won’t fix. And she’s had much worse.”

That’s not reassuring, you wanted to say, because seriously, you loved all your friends, but their job came with some really strange and concerning standards. They would tell you they were fine and pass out the next minute, only for doctors to reveal they had been bleeding out, inside or outside. And then they’d tell you, again, that it was fine and that they had worse.

Not to mention this situation was painfully different from Nat’s usual injuries.

“Maybe. But never because of me,” you noted softly, inhaling shakily and releasing the breath slowly as your ribcage ached at the reminder weaved into your own words.

“Going in circles here a little bit, ‘Ron.”

You shrugged helplessly, even as the desperation thrumming in your chest had much eased, your motivation to fix thing burning hotter and hotter, your gaze flickering back to the EMP as your mind already began to reel.

“Well I’m sorry, but I can’t exactly help it. Because this is my part, Sam. This is what I’m supposed to do best. I worry about you out there, alright? I worry so much, but I do my best and lose sleep over making sure I’ve done everything possible so that you’re a little safer. There’s a reason why I never let you to the field with an untested prototype. It has to be damn near hundred percent or nothing, and if the math was mathing, as Clint would say, I’d make hundred percent and twenty my standard.”

Sam’s smile earned a sad but warm edge at your words, but he didn’t comment, sensing you had more to say. And you did. Whether you liked it or not, it did help to get it out of your chest and you knew he would understand.

“Because this is all I can do, Sam. I can’t help you out there. I’m not some… badass with a gun and thighs that could choke a man to death,” you said, a fondness towards Natasha’s insane fighting skills echoing with ache as those worked even without the Bites you had made for her, but could not very well help her if she was too stunned with unexpected pain. “And it’s one thing to fail at making something in the first place, which would be bad enough, but this… my Bites hurting Nat, because I failed to take a variable into account, that’s new. That’s on me. And I can’t have that happen again.”

“It’s really not on you, but we could stand here talking for hours to no end and I happen to know you have work to do… and I do agree that you should keep going and do what you do best,” he said, eyes flickering towards the EMP that had been attracting your own gaze more and more. “You go and take this shit apart and figure it out, because that’s what you do. … and if you smash a few pieces in the process because that’s what you need, well that’s just the science method of it all, isn’t it?”

A teeny smile found its way to your face as you stepped forward again, giving Sam a quick hug.

What a man. What a wonderful friend.

“Thanks for the peptalk, Sam. I mean it. I appreciate it,” you said in earnest. “But uhm… I really have stuff to do and… you should get some rest. I’m… really glad you’re okay. Had-- had the EMP hit when you were in the air-”

“But it didn’t. And for the record, I meant every word.”

Your smile grew another fraction and you moved to your station, clasped on the goggles properly, settling in the tall chair and leaning your elbows on the counter. Screw Clint and his notes about a heron’s neck. “I know, Sam. You’re a good guy. Jess is a lucky girl.”

The new sparkle of joy lighting up in Sam’s eye at the mention of his new lady made your heart stutter with joy for your friend as well as quiver in dull ache. Wide smile spread on his face.

“I’m a lucky guy, so that makes two of us. Take care, Hero-N.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Sure. Take care, Sam.”

You took a deep inhale as Sam finally walked out, your attention already fully consumed by the goddamn EMP. Staring at the gun-shaped device for a moment, you moved to examine the piece you had chipped off, wondering about the material structure which no doubt had to be a little miracle of science to have the attributes it had.

“Alright, talk to me. How do we make sure you don’t do any more damage than a goddamn water gun…” you mumbled to yourself, missing Sam’s smile as he glanced at your antics through the window.

It was not the only thing you had missed in the past minutes.

Nor you nor Sam had seen Steve hovering by your workshop as he had rushed there straight from the meeting, knowing you would misplace blame on yourself, needing to assure you that that was not the case and to comfort you.

He had never made it inside the lab, getting a glimpse of at two figures in a tight embrace through the very window.

The understanding that he was not needed nor wanted and would in fact intrude on an intimate moment instead tasted bitterer on Steve’s tongue than the residual adrenalin from the mission, the sudden empty ache deep within his ribcage much more acute than the one in his bruised bones.

He had missed his chance to be there for you when you needed it.

And what hurt so much worse was the fact that apparently, he had missed his chance at love, once again.

Next chapter // Series masterlist

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Thank you for reading, loves! Thoughts, encouragements and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

May your March be filled of sunshine and hopes 💕

If you’d like to be notified on updates, follow my other blog @anika-ann-writes or let me know for a tag.

[kirarinlovesidols]

Prologue Part 3.

⟥────────✤────────────────────⟤

You had a pretty awful time trying to sleep for many reasons. A couple of them being Grim’s snoring, the weird noises in the middle of the night and the random bolts of lightning that would hit conveniently only when you were almost falling asleep. You’re so glad you don’t need to sleep.

Biologically speaking both you and the Greater Lord were a bit closer to plants. You didn’t need to sleep or eat, as long as you had sunlight and water you were fine. Still it didn’t mean you couldn’t indulge in those things as luxuries and after the day you had yesterday, you kinda needed to shut down for a while.

Though you can’t only do what you want in life, if at all.

As you were about to take Grim out of the unfortunate spot he somehow ended up on, which was your neck, you heard a familiar voice of one of the ghosts.

“Hee hee hee... Aren't the two of you supposed to be off cleaning the school today?” You turned your head to the side just to see all three of them surrounding your bed.

“Mmmmm... Nngh... Five more minutes, Ma…” You immediately grabbed Grim and took him off his ‘’’’’favored’’’’’ spot in a rush.

“Grim, wake up! they’re back!”  You said nervously. They were goofy looking but still could very much hurt you if they wished to do so.

The cat wakes up in confusion only to see you holding it in front of your face and a bunch of ghosts.

“MYAHHH! THEY’RE BACK!” So you two repeated the act of yesterday. Where you held the monster like a weapon and he drove them away.

“Don’t go grabbin’ me! and don’t use me as a shield either!” He complained as soon as you were done, wiggling out of your hold.

“I’m sorry! i didn’t mean to…but you wouldn’t wake up and i had no choice!” You apologized making a mental note to make it up to Grim later somehow.

Before this escalated any further Crowley walked inside the room, without even knocking.

“Good morning, Miss Rukkha. Did you sleep well?” The man had something in his arms, it looked like some kind of folded cloth.

“Ah! ye-”  You were about to lie just to not seem ungrateful but your roommate had other plans.

“Not at all! When I sprawled out on the bed, the mattress fell right through the frame!” Oh yeah. That was another one of the reasons you couldn’t sleep well.

“I-It wasn’t that bad though! i’m sure he doesn’t mean that!” You tried your best to cover for it only for Grim to crush your efforts.

“Are ya kiddin’ me? exactly how ramshackle IS this dorm? And worse yet, we got woken up by ghosts!” You covered your face with your hands in despair. Just great, now he would think badly of you.

The man didn’t seem to mind though. As he only walked over to you and handed you what you now recognize as overalls and a simple black shirt to put underneath.

“Well, it surely beats being outside in the rain. Now, consider this another sign of my great kindness. Surely you can’t work without appropriate attire.” You took the outfit from his hands with a smile.

“Thank you, sir! i’ll do my best!” You were relieved he apparently didn’t let Grim’s negative comments sway his generosity. Surely he only wanted the best for you.

In truth Crowley didn’t want to bother at all, he only did due to seeing you in your usual Lesser Lord ensemble. That would attract way too much attention and he couldn’t have that.

After that both him and Grim left the room at your request so you could change. Your eyes stared at your figure in the mirror now that you had your “janitor uniform” on. You struggled a bit to make the shirt fit, it was a bit small but it would have to do.

Since your hair was way too long you also had to put it up in a ponytail to make sure it wouldn't get in the way of your work. Feeling satisfied with the result you just had one thing left to check.

The scratch Grim gave you yesterday. It was almost healed by now. Seems like your regenerative habilities are still working, just slower. Well, better than nothing.

Getting out of the room you and Grim followed your “kind employer” as he explained what he expected out of both of you, which was cleaning the area spanning from the front gates to the library. You aren’t exactly too knowledgeable about cleaning but how hard could it be, right?

Grim immediately protested against the notion fo cleaning but you managed to convince him by reminding him of the kind of books there could be in the library, like how to become a great mage or something.

You’re very sorry for doing that.

⟥────────✤────────────────────⟤

“Wow, so this is Main Street, huh? This is incredible!” Grim said as he tried his best to see all there was to the entrance. He looked excited and giddy however you had to tell him something very important.

“Grim? don’t forget we’re here to clean…” It’s not like you didn’t believe him but he still seemed on the fence about it all.

“I know, i know! don’t remind me!” The cat rolled his eyes before resuming his observations.

“I didn't get to see it much yesterday. What's the deal with these seven statues? All their faces look pretty scary. Like, this lady here looks like she's got some reeeal anger management issues.” He stopped by the foot of the statue and you had to raise a brow there. 

Anger management issues was awfully specific, a bit weird he went there. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree, maybe it was her expression that seemed like it could change any time. And you swore you saw her eyes open and look at you.

Before you could even mention it you heard a voice coming from behind.

“You don't know the Queen of Hearts?” Turning around you both saw a boy with ginger hair, red eyes that had a charming boyish glint and a weird…heart tattoo? or was it makeup? on the corner of his face.

“Queen of Hearts? Is she some kinda big deal?” Grim looked at the boy in question curiously.

“She was a queen who lived in a mazelike garden of roses long, long ago. She was a strict woman who prized order above all. She wouldn't tolerate a rose being off-color, or her  playing-card soldiers being out of step.” You couldn’t help but find that suffocating, perhaps it was the way of nobility?

“She basically ruled over a kingdom of madness, but not one of her subjects dared to defy her. You wanna know why? Because the punishment for breaking a rule was immediate decapitation!” You just did a double take with a horrified expression. That was just awful! how did she want people to ever respect her that way?

“Isn’t….isn’t that essentially tyranny?” You asked in a worried tone.

“Wah! That is seriously messed up!” Yeah, you really agreed with Grim on that one.

“Pretty cool, right? I'm a big fan. I mean, who would bother to obey a queen that was kind all the time?” You thought back at Greater Lord Kusanali and how she’s been nothing but kind to her subjects for all those years. Maybe her being so nice backfired as soon as she exhausted her powers but…you were sure they still respected her.

“I would….that doesn’t really sound like someone i would like to follow….” You looked to the side in awkwardness as stories of fictional rules who got overthrown by their subjects played in your mind.

“Yeah, true. A leader needs to be strong. But puttin' that aside... Who're you, now?” You disagreed on that take but it would take forever to explain why so you don’t interject.

“Name's Ace. I'm a first year student here, as of... today! Pleased to meetcha!” He extended his hand at you so you took it, forming a handshake.

“Oh! Nice to meet you too! I’m-” You got rudely interrupted.

“I'm Grim! I'm a prodigy whos plannin' to be, like, the greatest mage who ever lived.”  Grim then pointed his paw at you—  “That there's my far less interesting hench-human.” You just looked at him disappointedly.

“Don’t you mean friends, Grim?” You corrected him with a strained smile on your face.

“Nah, I mean what i said.”  Well! that was beyond mean!

Still, Ace nodded at the cat’s introduction and turned his gaze to you again.

“Rukkha, right? Name's got an odd ring to it.” He smiled as he let your hand go.

“It’s the shorter version of it…It’s actually Rukkhadevata but it’s too long, right? so you can just call me Rukkha, it’s probably easier.” You rambled slightly in nervousness. Your lack of social skills were showing.

“Also please don’t take him calling me his “hench-human” seriously, he’s kidding.” You weren’t about to let him just demote you like that, it was genuinely not nice.

Ace just giggled at your explanation.

“So tell me, Ace. Is that lion with a scar in the eye a famous ruler too?” You looked at the statue in question with the same amount of curiosity. So even animals marked history in this world, huh? it didn’t surprise you considering Grim could talk.

“Of course! That's the King of Beasts who ruled the savanna.” A lion being the king of beasts? you thought it was very fitting.

“But he wasn't born into the throne - he had to earn it through hard work and elaborate schemes. When he became king, he decreed that the hyenas would be pariahs no more, and should live among his subjects as equals.” You had a feeling that those “schemes” he mentioned had a lot more to them.

A second born cannot inherit the throne unless something happened to the first born and their heirs, or if the ruler just chose based on meritocracy. You didn’t know the story so you wouldn’t assume things but…it just seemed to weird to you.

And if Grim thought it was weird too, he didn’t mention it. “Sounds like a great guy! Not everyone's able to look past social status like that.” He nodded his little head as if acknowledging and respecting the figure of the statue.

“And who's the lady with the octopus legs?” Oh! now that’s something you haven’t seen! as far as you knew Teyvat didn’t have people who were part aquatic creature. This world is shaping to be way more interesting than you thought.”

“The Sea Witch who lived in an underwater grotto. She basically devoted her life to helping troubled merfolk. If they were willing to pay the price, she'd help them change their appearance, find love, whatever!” This woman seemed really incredible…you’re pretty sure most of such problems depended on the person, it almost seemed too good to be true…

“They say she was so good, there was no wish she couldn't grant. They also say the price was a tad steep, though. But she was granting wishes! Of course it was!” And there it was, the price. You suppose it was fair considering not even archons in your world granted wishes for free.

“Myaha! So you're sayin' that once I'm a great mage, gettin' rich off folks will be a total cinch?!” That’s not what Ace said at all and you would rather not have Grim swindling people for a living.

“Grim that isn’t very nice….please don’t scam people when you become a great mage…” You hoped your words would reach him somehow, even if he just ignored you.

“Oh, oh! Do the dude with the big hat next!” The monster looked lik a kid in a candy store,at least that was cute.

“That's the Sorcerer of the Sands. He was an advisor to a total dolt of a sultan. He was asmart guy. Really capable sort. He exposed this swindler once - some guy pretending to be a prince in order to trick the princess! After that, he got this magic lamp and became the greatest sorcerer in the world.” Then, they say...... he used that power to become sultan

himself!”  What about the old sultan? again with these weird ascensions to royalty without explaining properly? this was already the second time…you hoped it was just your imagination or your habit of reading too much into things.

“Wow! Guess it's true that a mage needs to be an excellent judge of character, huh? And what about this beauty over here?” Indeed the woman was very pretty but she…somehow…looked dangerous? maybe you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.

“She's a queen who was said to be the fairest in all the land. In fact, she used her magic mirror to check how she ranked on a daily basis! When it looked like her position was threatened, they say she'd do whatever it took to keep it.” Oh, Forget it…there’s no way someone who checked her beauty rank daily wasn’t dangerous…you shivered at the mention of her doing whatever it took.

“Can you even imagine the level of dedication it would require to keep a record like that?

Also, they say she was a master of making poisons!” Yep, there it is. What’s wrong with the historical figures of this place?

“Geez. She's pretty, but that sounds kinda scary.” You and Grim were in a row today, huh?

“You think so? I gotta respect the hustle!” Ace looked at the statue, his smile never leaving his face.

“Uh…i guess she knowing how to make poisons could be useful but…i can’t imagine her doing anything good with that…”

“F-for sure... Sounds like she fought hard for what she believed in, and never gave up!” You glanced at your roommate with visible confusion. How did he manage to get something good out of that?

“And the one there, with the flaming head? Now THAT guy looks scary!” Hm…you didn’t particularly think he looked scary, his flaming hair reminded you of how some people talked about Natlan’s archon. You’ve never seen her yourself, of course, however everyone who went to natlan all had multiple things to say and one of them were how her hability to turn her hair into flames was very cool.

“That's the King of the underworld! Single-handedly ruling a kingdom packed with rambunctious spirits - that takes competence! He may look scary, but he was a straight shooter who worked tirelessly at a tough job he never even asked for.I mean, this is the guy who was ordering Cerberus, the Hydra, and the Titans into battle for him.” Ace shrugged matter of factly.

You had no idea what he was talking about near the end, must be something related to the history of this planet. Still, underworld and spirits? a place where people’s souls go, you guessed.

“Hmm. That IS something. T'think he could have that much power and not let it go to his head! And that last one there, with the horns?” Grim pointed to the last figure and she looked very elegant, holding a staff of sorts.

“That's the Thorn Fairy who lived on a mythical mountain. She was noble and elegant, and a master of magic and curses - even by the standards of these seven! She commanded storms, covered the kingdom with thorns... She could use magic on a massive scale!

She could even turn herself into a giant dragon.”  A dragon?! now that sounded preposterous. Just how the magic in this world worked? it sounded crazier by the second.

“Ooh. a dragon! What all monsters yearn to be!” The cat’s eyes glimmered in admiration as he looked at the woman known as the “thorn fairy”

“Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel.” Ace’s tone seemed to have suddenly changed to pure mocking.

You turned your head to look at him just to see if you actually heard right but of course you did. Just look at how big your ears are.

“Myah?!” Grim let out a yelp in shock.

“Pfft... Ah ha ha! I can't hold it back anymore! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Come on, you're the ones who turned orientation into such a fiasco, right?” He wiped tears off his eyes as he pointed at you two who could only stare at Ace dumbfounded.

Ok. Maybe you did crash a very important otherwordly ceremony but it wasn’t your fault! you got spirited away against your will, what were you supposed to do? be burned by a feline that can use pyro energy or just suffocate do death inside a coffin?

“The fae girl with unstable magic that got summoned to an all-boys school and the monster no one summoned at all. It took everything I had not to burst into laughter right in the middle of the ceremony!” Oh again with this unstable stuff? you’re never going to live that one down, are you?

Either way you still felt embarrassed and a bit guilty for what happened so your face burned in embarrassment against your will, which only fueled Ace’s sudden sadistic behavior.

“I-it’s not! listen! i said i was sorry to the headmage and we’re all good, ok?!” You conveyed 0 credibility, no one would believe that.

“H-hey! You don't gotta be a jerk about it!” Your roommate seemed taken aback too, you guessed he didn’t feel good about that whole mess as well.

“So in the end, neither of you got admitted, and now you're janitors? Ah ha ha! SO lame!” This was starting to get out of hand and going past the limits of what’s acceptable, just WHY were people here so mean?

“Can you stop being mean? we didn’t do anything to you! we have an agreement with Crowley so…if…if you’re unhappy then just talk to him instead!” You said fighting against the desire to dig a hole and crawl into it.

The boy’s smirk still refused to leave his face, it seemed like he enjoyed torturing you both. He wouldn’t let you know he thought your distressed expression was cute though, or that you were cute, yep, no.

“What did you just call me?!” Grim’s fur stood on it’s end as he hissed at Ace.

Uh-oh….seems like he didn’t enjoy being called a janitor even if that’s essentially what you two were…

“Seriously you're both so clueless you don't even know who the Great Seven are. Not a one of them! Maybe before you try getting into the academy again, you ought to take a second crack at kindergarten? Ah ha ha ha ha!” Oh c’mon, you weren’t even from this world how would you know?

Still all this just wasn’t worth it and you and Grim had a job to do so you just calmed down and walked to the middle so you could stand in between Ace and your very very angry roommate, trying to mediate and possibly avoid conflict.

“Listen, Ace…there’s no need to talk to us like that. We’re sorry and repenting about the ceremony so just get to class before you get late.” You tried to sound like the bigger person and do the right thing but the way you talked ticked the ginger boy slightly.

“Huh? who do you think you are nagging me like that? my mom? Anyway, just thought I'd tease you a bit. And man am I glad I did. It's been a blast! Unlike you, I actually have classes to get to, so I'll let you get back to picking up trash. Bye!” He totally didn’t decide to go to class cause a cute girl told him to, nah, he would never admit that.

He should ask you for your number sometime.

“Myuh-uh! You ain't walkin' away from me! It's too late for that! Myaaaaah!” There’s no way this is happening. 

Without even thinking about consequences Grim shot a fireball at Ace who miraculously dodged.

“GRIM!? You’ll hurt him! don’t do that! didn’t you hear him saying he was leaving?!”

You were trying your best to fix this situation and this cat STILL wanted to fight despite the main instigator preparing to leave. Just what were you telling Crowley? needless to say you were losing your mind.

“No one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire! I'm gonna make that explodey-head of yours explode all over again!” He stomped his little feet on the ground as if trying to show the world how pissed off he was.

“Oh archons! let’s all just…calm down!” You tried to scoop up the cat only for him to swat his claws in your direction as a warning to stay out of it.

“Explodey-head?! You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts.” Ace got up from the spot he had to jump in order to dodge the fireball of earlier and took some kind of…pen out of his pocket— “You wanna talk hair, huh? I'm gonna shave you like a toy poodle!” The jewel on the “pen” glowed a bright red as the wind suddenly started picking up, easily blowing the cat away.

It seems like you really couldn’t stop this anymore.

You then immediately made the same motion of a square with your fingers so you could “mark” him. Basically all you needed was to use him as a tether to materialize something that could only be described as a rope made out of dendro energy and pulled him back to you before he went flying to god knows where.

You were about to catch him in your arms when he just spun his body mid-air and fell on his feet.

Of course…he’s a cat after all, he would’ve been fine….

You yourself wonder what goes through your head when making stupid decisions like these.

“You can’t use wind to blow away my fire balls you coward!” Of course he didn’t even thank you, classic Grim.

What's going on over there? A fight?!

Oh, sweet! Get 'em!

Dude dude, record it! post it on magicam!

Now there were people watching and cheering for the fight to continue, this really couldn’t get any worse.

“Can you two please calm down?! you’ll get hurt at this rate!” You made the rope disappear as you begged the two to stop it before it escalated any further.

“Awww... Can't hit me with your little fireballs?” Ace taunted and you swore you could see steam coming out of Grim’s already on fire ears.

“Grrr... You better believe I'm about to!” And then hell broke loose yet again it was an unending barrage of fireballs against wind currents that were just as strong.

You were seriously getting angry.

When you were about to put both of them inside one of your very own signature dendro “cages” a particular heavy wind gust sent a fireball to your way. At that you immediately put up a barrier but that was just an even worse mistake.

The fireball bounced off your dendro wall and ended up hitting the statue of the queen of hearts.

Oh.

My.

Archons.

You were absolutely cooked.

All three of you stood there watching in horror at how charred a literal statue made to honor a historical figure now looked. It was almost like it was left inside some burning museum and was barely took out of there in time.

“Oh no! Now the Queen of Hearts's statue looks like it's been flame-broiled!” The ginger boy screamed in despair as he looked at the result of his short temper.

“That's your fault for tryin' to divert it! You shoulda just let it burn you to a crisp!” Grim growled at his enemy with enough bark to put a dog to shame despite being a cat.

“And who in their right mind would ever do that you dumbass?!” The other boy said incredulously.

“What is going on here? Cease this at once!” Aaaaaaaand there he is! the voice of the person you wanted to see the least right now.

God you felt like you were going to cry.

Unfortunately you felt like you were frozen in place as you stared at the burnt face of that queen, you could barely hear Crowley grilling the two boys behind you.

All you could think about was how you literally caused so much trouble and disgraced yourself in front of a figure of authority, again.

You just couldn’t do anything right, huh? 

This is why you weren’t needed.

She wouldn’t have let this happen, she would’ve managed to calm both of them down with her immense carisma and elegant aura. 

As expect of the Lesser Lord.

That’s all you’ll ever be.

A hand on your shoulder broke your trance.

You looked back to see who it belonged to.

“Did I not just warn you, ‘no more incidents’ ”

You could only whisper a meek “I’m sorry” before being guided away from the commotion followed by the other two main reasons of this tragedy.

You really can’t catch a break.

⟥────────✤────────────────────⟤

What if you were writing, literally locked in and god said:

“Illness be upon ye” ?

Yes i’ve been bedridden with fever since fucking saturday, what a nightmare.

Also thank you all very much for all the compliments on this mess asjfasdhgsakj

it makes me happy it’s interesting to yall.

Final part coming soon!

Taglist: @coffee-or-hot-cocoa , @m-majoko , @ghostlysyntaxed , @justanormiewhoreads

[moociaoafterdark]

Everyone writing about the Emperor hating their OCs (who are children of the Primarchs), which is probably in character for him (or not. it's the fucking Emperor).

And then there's me, when I approached my close friend with my OC and asked her "Hey, what do you think the Emperor would think of Moira, since she is Curze's daughter and all?" and she, dead ass, said "Oh, he'd LOVE her" and I just went "... Oh, ok, cool! :D" and have been thinking about Emps loving and playing with his weird little granddaughter ever since. His toxic trait is not manipulating the society to bring back emo/scene aesthetic, because he KNOWS Moira would love it. At least he canonically showed her "Invader Zim" and he did not miss. She loved it. Quotes it to this very day to some very confused, but lowkey curious Drukhari (From the description, they thought Big E showed her torture porn and assumed that some mon-keighs apparently watch that for fun?? Maybe they're not so bad after all.)

[bisexualmcqueen]

@kaderp ah, i get to explain the apocalypse au more! its been stewing in my brain for so long that i have no reference for how much context people have gleaned from what fics/art ive posted. Anyone- feel free to toss questions at me

an excerpt from apoc au description on ao3:

Alternate Universe, post Cars 3 timeline. *** A science experiment gone horribly wrong lets loose a violent EMP blast across the world of cars, instantly killing any vehicle unable to sustain the incredibly high RPMs and the electrical storm the blast induces. In the aftermath, very few survivors remain- mostly sportscars, hypercars... ...and racecars. *** No zombies. No virus. No nuclear war. Just a tragedy, and the long years in its wake. ...And the inherent silliness of talking cars, of course.

Covers a period of time between mid-2018 to ~2048 (on the basis that Cars 3 takes place in 2017+2018). AU inspired partly by: Mad Max Fury Road, The Walking Dead, Warrior Cats, and The Last Of Us. Major Character Death blanket warning.

im so sorry but it's an 'everyone dies' AU <//3 (it's also a 'put those cars in a Situation and see how bad they fuck it up' au, lol)

literally mater dying is so upsetting to me that i had avoided thinking about it until i drew this a few days ago because BAVV encouraged the angst here:

<3

[angronius]

Hey I could be missing stuff, because I'm very dumb, but -

Was Plox Angron's kid from before Emps showed up or after? Do they have another parent, or just Angron? How bad are the daddy issues? What's their relationship with the Blood Angle? How'd they meet the Blood Angel? Who is the Blood Angel? What do you mean Lorgar recycled them????

Again, appologizes if the lore has been explained, I am STUPID

NOOO ur not dumb or stupid!! I’m spinning with u!! i have no clue what I’ve shared and what I haven’t but :] I will answer the questions under the cut!! Bc I love him a lot and feel I’m going to type way too much 🙂‍↕️

He is Angron’s kid AFTER Emps showed up, and he does have another parent (the fella w gold eyes on the chibi oc heads thing)! Since Plox was supposed to be just a regular shmegular oc these details abt him r super weak and messy, so I apologise 💔 his other dad is a Custode.

the daddy issues r so bad that they don’t even register I think. I sorta subscribe to the idea that Angron wants to care for his kid, but cannot bring himself to (nails+transron headcanons going brr lol). He goes so far as to call his kid ‘thing’ ‘it’ ‘spawn’ or ‘creature’, or literally just doesn’t think abt him. He forgor. Plox assumes Angron is his father in the same way the World Eaters regard Angron as their father !! I could spend all day writing abt Angron and parenting and baby Plox and attachment issues hehehe

the BA’s name is Masaccio ;3c they have no canonical relationship I just wanted to draw toxic yaoi hehe my BA is a raging thirsty boy and Plox is a nail-less WE that’s just insane so I thought it would be funny to make my toys kiss.

Ok sO, I needed an excuse for Plox to wind up in 40k so ofc, the warp. And who better to toss the spawn of Angron into a warp portal than Lorgar? The current crack-situation is Lorgar attempted to use Plox for some kind of ritual, it winds up with him just throwing the kid into the warp, and then Plox is spit back out 10k years later and exists for a few years until WE’s start their recruitment tour thru his planet. Recycled! :3 he’s an odd 200 something year old Chaos Lord by current time.

Plox worships Angron as hard, if not harder, than he worships Khorne. He just wants his big red daddy to notice him (he will not notice him).

[quietbluejay]

Someone found this post the other day, so I started pulling out the idea of planet-swapping Perturabo and Guilliman again (I didn't really go too far with the idea originally) (well context was also group complaining about people getting Guilliman's characterization wrong, lol)

the most wild part was ending up with a perfectly logical way of having Revolutionary Guilliman (which is still breaking my brain a bit)

okay, explanations under the cut

Perturabo: Perturabo with Guilliman's upbringing I think would be a bit more stable, but he'd still have a lot of his OG issues they just wouldn't be expressed to such an extreme extent He's still got his mental encyclopedia, he's still got the Eye of Terror watching him, and he's still got his inherent traits I think Konor's death would cause Perty to turn inwards a lot and kinda give up on any proactiveness he might have learned I think he'd be way more brutal on Illyria than Guilliman was

part of the problem with Olympia is that Perturabo had all these expectations/needs from a familial relationship that were at odds with the culture he found himself in also he had no one when he was at his youngest which is pretty critical I got into this when I was doing his primarch novel, but part of the biggest problem with Perturabo's canonical family was that it started as a transactional relationship I do think he'd have turned out slightly more functional if he'd grown up from the beginning with Dammekos there'd still be issues there because, a) it's Perturabo and b) I think a lot of his inherent personality is at odds with the social/familial expectations of a role as the son of an Olympian tyrant, but I think Perturabo would have a better mental framework in place to handle it so it would be a normal dysfunctional relationship, so to speak

I think the biggest difference in Perturabo post-joining the Imperium is he's got a less dysfunctional relationship with his legion

Guilliman: Guilliman would have a very different early history than Perturabo, I don't know if he'd do the monster slayer thing The thing about Guilliman is that his natural skills are best expressed if he's already in authority, it's not making stuff, it's organizing things no one wants an annoying random giant child telling them how to plant their crops more efficiently Perturabo makes things, there's accepted societal roles for that someone who organizes your people and changes the way you do things is a threat Checkerheart: Baby Guil gathering the peasantry to rebel against the local Tyrant

my thoughts on the matter: Guilliman is very much the "change and improve the system but don't break it" guy but i can see Olympia leading to him being pushed into that kind of role because there isn't really any other good way of making structural change if you're starting out at the bottom unless you get adopted by someone in power (which is still possible! but I think it's less likely for Guilliman than Perturabo)

Guilliman doesn't have revolutionary principles, he's only doing this so he can fix things/get into power so that thought leads into Guilliman and Corvus interacting I don't think he'd be disgusted by Corvus' hypocrisy, I think he'd be disgusted by the fact that he left Deliverance to the Mechanicum

I think that Olympian!Guilliman would actually be more proactive w.r.t. the Imperium than he was in canon as in being an iconoclast and being willing to try and break/fix things he thought were bad ...like the Mechanicum ironic given Corvus, but I can see Olympian!Guilliman ending up in severe conflict with them and accidentally a civil war

ultimately it doesn't matter how well he does power games and tries to resolve things diplomatically, he could do everything right and find a perfect solution and then Emps is going to come down like NO I think this Guilliman is a bit more, hm, open-eyed about people in power rather than having a giant blind spot what he would do is rules lawyer around and try to find a solution within the system and then emps would smack that down but i don't think to the extent of Monarchia as fun as the idea is

I think his natural instinct though is still to try and fix something that exists already but it'd be tempered by his experiences in this AU

I do think he'd be actively looking here in a way he wasn't in canon, rather than just assuming "oh of course the Emperor knows what he's doing, obviously we're built for more than war" and Not Thinking about the things that contradicted that, so there's a better chance he'd pick up on it though...going back to the origins of this au...how does having no parents affect Guilliman? and how would the culture of Olympia affect him?...less of a sense of noblesse oblige and more about quid pro quo I think he'd absorb the culture a lot more thoroughly than Perturabo did

other notes: this Guilliman doesn't have all of Ultramar to draw recruits from, the alt-Ultramarines are going to be smaller Olympia also isn't as fertile as Maccrage and it started at a lower tech level, so there isn't going to be as high of a population anyways the alt-Ultramarines are going to be doing well, b/c Guilliman's geneseed is still very stable here, but he's not going to have the mass numbers he did in canon

(theoretical idea for spreading beyond Olympia is stealing the spaceships of the Black Judges, lol) (Guilliman is gonna spread peace, order and good government to the area around Olympia! and if you get that reference you get a cookie)

...the Emps does a Monarchia on him AU of this AU would be crunchy though obviously Lorgar would be best for maximum irony points but Emps wouldn't trust Lorgar to do it/see it as a good way to test his loyalty, I think

[catcher-intherai]

My first ever fanfic!

Criticism is appreciated 

Raiden joins desperado AU

Raiden gripped the concrete as hard as he could. Shaking in pain as his blood spilled out of his chest. He reached for his weapon in a final attempt to endure it, but it was quickly kicked away.

“Are you finally done?”

Monsoon said while stepping closer, his metal feet against the concrete caused Raiden’s heart to beat faster, so fast that it was all he could hear.

“what can you even do now? Stand up. Show me a man.”

He felt Monsoon’s Sai hit his chin, not a light tapping but a slam.

Instead of giving up in that moment, Raiden forced himself to stand up. His vision was incredibly blurry, it was impossible to see Monsoon’s kick to the legs until he slammed his head on the concrete. The last thing he heard was the ringing, a loud ringing that faded into a beating, almost like a heartbeat.

Most of Raiden’s memories had completely faded like sand in the wind. But the heartbeat brought something back... something sweet, and comforting. The heartbeat no longer sounded like his own, but his mother’s.

It brought back memories of his mom rubbing his forehead back when he was very young, it was soothing… Raiden had completely forgotten about his failed battle until the ringing came back. When the ringing came back the feeling of a hand on his forehead didn’t go away, in fact, the hand felt warmer and larger than a mother’s hand. Quickly Raiden shot his eye open and saw his enemy, Jetstream Sam, rubbing his forehead. Raiden started to struggle against it but he couldn’t move, making Sam laugh.

“Nice try pretty boy”

he finally took his hand off his head

“those EMP shots we gave you won't fade for HOURS”

“WHERE AM I?”

Raiden couldn’t hide the panic in his voice, that tough cyborg façade was about to be washed away, which Sam found amusing because he laughed again.

“you’re at desperado! Do you really think we’d let a valuable asset like you die on the dirty floor? You’re trash, but-”

“shut up Sam. I’m not here for small talk obviously…”

“well, you’re here for a reason pretty boy...”

“are you going to tell me?”

“am I?”

Sam was toying with him, clear as day. Raiden scowled and decided it was best not to entertain a clown, so he just shut his mouth. Disappointingly Sam wouldn’t mimic this action.

“Have you seen your new parts yet?”

Raiden looked down, he did have new parts, red and black with the Desperado logo on his right thigh.

“what the (f word) is this?”

“your new look pretty boy”

“stop calling me that”

“you don’t like it? The logo I mean.”

The armor was beyond beauty. There wasn’t a word strong enough to describe how pretty it was. Maybe it was just the look of fresh armor, or perhaps it was the scarlet accents. It wasn’t that big ugly logo that’s for sure.

“no”

“ah you’re lying pr- “

Raiden quickly cut him off before he could spit out that nickname.

“what happened? Why is your logo on My leg?

“Well, I was getting there if you'd stopped being so catty.”

Raiden finally shut up and started waiting for Sam’s explanation. Sam put his hand to his chin and gave Raiden one of his snarky smiles. Suddenly being dead on the concrete sounded better than this. Sam was taking way too long to speak at this point, so a headache started to form in Raiden’s forehead. Raiden pushed his head back on his pillow and groaned.

“well since you want to know so bad…”

Sam chuckled again

“you put up quite a fight, we couldn’t let a pretty thing like you go to waste. So instead of shooting you dead then and there, we dragged you into the building and took you to the med bay.”

Sam put his hand on Raiden’s new logo.

“they gave you some new parts, monsoon tore yours up pretty bad. We decided that desperado could use someone like you…”

Raiden opened his eye, Sam's eyelids were hung a little. Not in a tired way, but in a relaxed way, it was unnerving.

“so. I'll give you 2 options… you either join Desperado, as one of our cyborgs, or we use you for scrap metal. It's up to you pretty boy”

Sam's hand was still on the Desperado logo. Sam finally took his hand off and then put it back on Raiden’s forehead, which seemed to soothe his headache a bit. This choice wasn’t hard at all, ANYONE with a moral backbone would rather die before joining a company like DESPERADO! Maybe even people without a moral backbone. Raiden was about to say his answer, but the sliding doors opened before his mouth could. He couldn’t tell who walked in by footsteps alone, they were more clicky than sundowners, but too snippy to be monsoon, and not squeaky enough to be Khamsin’s, which meant it had to be…

“Ola Mistral, come to visit Raidey?”

Raiden felt his body tense up at that awful nickname, his stomach even churned every time it echoed in his ears. Sam could tell it was making Raiden sick, so he slid a metal bucket over beside the bed with his foot.

“visit?” mistrals voice was smooth like a cup of Assam tea. But to Raiden, it sounded as smooth as the noise the bucket made on the floor. “I wouldn't say visit. I'm here to see if he weighed his options”

“He was just on that.”

“Sundowner wants an answer by tonight, any later and we’ll scrap him.”

“We can wait a bit, he already acts like scrap metal.”

“Very funny Sam, but its Sundowner’s word is what we follow. And don’t run from the heard unless you want to be mutton”

Sam was quiet for a bit, in the desperado hierarchy, Sam was at the bottom, he was new to desperado and it showed.

“talk to him, Sam. I want the word by tonight. Monsoons on call today if you need him.”

“yes, ma’am. I'm on it, ma’am”

Mistral’s heels clicked on the metal floors as she walked out of the room. It wasn’t until the sliding doors closed that Sam started talking.

“Please Raiden, just join”

“and why should I? you bunch are just a bunch of moralless terrorists. I’d rather d- “

“No, you wouldn’t. come on Raiden, just join, it's better than what's coming if you don’t”

“why would I listen to you”

Raiden attempted to spit at Sam’s face to keep him away, but Sam just put his hand over his mouth.

“I’m not taking no anymore. You're joining. Welcome to Desperado Raiden.”

Raiden felt an indescribable emotion. Anger? Sadness? Something entirely different? Whatever it was it made him throw up. Sam helped him do it in the bucket while holding his hair back too. Raiden didn’t take this as a kind gesture, after being forced to join an organization a bundle of flowers would feel like a bullet to the brain.

I'm sorry Raiden.’

Sam put his hand on an IV bag full of something blue, turning up the dial a bit. Raiden felt his head getting light and airy, and he started to wobble, before he knew it, he was out cold.

When Raiden finally opened his eyes it was dark out, the room would be pitch black if not for the medical equipment’s glow. He heard what sounded like porcelain cups clicking on each other, and heels on the ground. He noticed that one of the lights in the room was moving, it was a faint red glow. he didn’t put much thought into it, realizing that the EMP shots had finally worn off and he could move now was much more interesting. Raiden sat up and was suddenly making “eye” contact with Monsoon. The man who put him in this situation. Neither of them said anything, it was just an awkward silence for a minute or so before Monsoon set his tray down.

“You're up early.”

Raiden didn’t respond.

“I brought you some green tea”

Raiden still didn’t respond. Anything coming out of his mouth would be out of irrational anger now. He could feel his arms shaking in anger at this point. All he wanted to do was dump that hot tea on Monsoon’s face and smash the cups on his teeth.

“calm down Jack.”

Raiden stayed quiet, being called Jack wasn’t helping him calm down. He raised his arm to grab a cup but his headache had gotten worse, and it had spread to the rest of his mind by now. Monsoon picked up a cup and moved to the side of his bed, putting the cup to Raiden’s lips and making him drink it.

“don’t spit it out. It’ll help that headache of yours.”

Raiden kept it in his mouth without swallowing, the chance of a Desperado member poisoning him had gotten lower, but not low enough for him to swallow.

Monsoon set the cup down and got off the bed. He walked to the other side of the room to grab supplies from a cabinet.

“I knew your secret, Jack.”

Monsoon saying that suddenly made him swallow, he choked a bit but got over it fast. Whatever secret it was didn’t matter. If Monsoon knows it's over for him.

“you couldn’t ‘show me a man’ because you're not one.”