#stephen lang characters

[slxsherwriter]

Out of Trauma Comes....

Fandom: Don't Breathe

Pairing: Norman Nordstrom x reader

Warnings: Child death, loss of limbs, ptsd struggles

Word Count: 4,076

Author's Note: I have fallen down the Stephan Lang rabbit hole. This is the first in a series of Norman one-shots. Reader does have a military background. This decision was based off of the relationship that Norman had with Hernandez in the second movie. Hope everyone likes! As always, not beta read, so mistakes are mine.

You woke with a start, gasping for breath that wouldn't seem to fill your lungs. For several agonizing seconds, it felt like it would never happen before finally, your body kickstarted itself. The silence of the room was only broken by the brief choking gasps of air as you tried to regulate your breathing. Then your ears registered the frantic beeping of a heart rate monitor. Your own. Forcing yourself to take a few slower breaths, it calmed down as you managed. Stiffness below reminded you that you were stuck in a hospital bed. Right. The accident. 

With a grimace, you forced yourself into a seated position. The pain was a worthy distraction, taking your mind off the vivid flashbacks that played before your eyes. Like a bad horror movie that you couldn't pause. 

A nurse came in, far more quickly than they had the past three weeks. Must have been fewer patients on the floor for them to monitor. When you had first arrived four weeks ago, despite your status, it had taken time for them to show up. 

“Everything okay?” No, nothing was okay in the least about the entire situation. Swallowing down the words, you found yourself giving a shaky smile. 

“Yeah, fine. Just a bad dream.” PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder, that's what it was. You knew well enough to recognize the signs after seeing some of your closest brothers go through the same thing. “Sorry, didn't mean to cause any worry.” She gave you a softer smile, one that felt like pity. You hated every second of it. Of all of this, if you were honest. You wanted to be back home, away from the world and everyone in it. Why should you have lived?

 “Not a problem at all.” She checked over your IV line and monitor before moving to the door, taking her leave. But before she fully left, she looked over her shoulder. “From what I heard, you're getting out of here tomorrow.” There may not have been a God but that news could have brought you to belief. 

“Thanks…for everything.” 

*****

Using the crutches to get into your home, you grunted with the effort. The cracked ribs were healing and could bear the brunt of your weight with some protest and discomfort but you weren't hanging around any longer than absolutely necessary. 

A chill ran down your spine and the urge to look at the street was almost overwhelming. But you knew what you would find there if you did. Just repeated flashes of blood, broken glass, and phantom pains. Unconsciously, your jaw had started to clench, something you only realize when you heard a small crack. 

“Fuck.” The word bounced through the empty house. A slow sigh and you were moving to the staircase. Life now had a whole new set of obstacles and challenges. Ones that you couldn't have ever dreamed of if one were to ask you. Yet, here you were. “Don't have a fucking pity party now. Get your ass up the stairs so you can take a proper shower. Then, you can check on Norman.” it was the right thing to do. You had heard from your older neighbor just once in the entire time you had been in the hospital. Understandable, given the circumstances and what he had to be dealing with, but it didn't quell the drive to follow up. Having been a neighbor for the better part of five years now, you had grown close to Norman and Emma. Just the thought of the girl was enough to constrict your throat and threaten to have tears spilling from your eyes once more. 

White knuckling the crutches, you slowly made your way up the stairs. It was both painstaking and painful but there was a small sense of accomplishment when you hit the top landing. One thing out of the way, many many more to come. No use in getting too excited over it all just yet. The shower was the next thing to tackle. 

***********

Having only fallen once, the shower could be considered a success. Dressing wasn't as difficult as anticipated, the bed that you had easy to get on and off of with the wall right there that you could brace yourself against. Now, down the stairs? That was a whole other ballgame. Slow, very slowly, you worked down each step. It probably would have been easier to admit defeat and go down on your ass but that stubborness that often got you in trouble decided to rear it's head. This was life now so it wasn't like something that you wouldn't have to get used to. Might as well start that right now.

The shower made you feel a bit better. Something about being able to shower at home, in your own space, with your typical washes and shampoos just did something different than when you were stuck showering in a hospital. While you still were in tremendous discomfort that bordered on pain that was barely tolerable, you still felt better. Plus, being out of those hospital clothes just helped give a little mental boost. 

Tossing a jacket over your shoulders, you opened the door with a slow breath. The street was quiet, just as it often was. There were so few left in this neighborhood, the stranglehold of the economic crisis squeezing life out of Detroit day by day. Those that remained were too headstrong to go more than anything else. You and the man across the street had that in common. Not the only thing. The memory that came of the first meeting had you wanting to laugh. It was either laugh or break out into tears because the bad came rushing hard. Shaking away the thoughts as if the physical action could dislodge and remove those mental images. 

The walk across the street didn't take too long, though getting up his steps took a few moments. It seemed that Shadow knew of the presence on the porch before you could even knock. The bark that came from inside was excitement, something recognizable and in a way somewhat comforting. It was normal. Routine. Despite the fact that nothing about this would ever be the normal that you both once knew. There was no answer to the rap of knuckles against the wood. Not for a minute. Or five. 

A part of you wondered if you should just leave him be. You had your own trauma from the entire thing but his loss was so much greater than your own. A leg compared to a child? No comparison. Still, something rolled in your gut at the thought of leaving Norman to his misery, grief, and pain. You had been alone in the hospital. Being alone and isolated was never good. So, that thought made you knock again and call out. 

“Norman?” Your voice nearly cracked and you had to take a second to take in a breath. The situation called for composure. Letting your own emotions shine through wouldn't help the moment at all. “I'm sure you don't want to see anyone right now…” What words were supposed to be spoken for this sort of thing? Huffing out in frustration, you stared at the door. 

“Can you please let me in? You don't have to talk. I know you aren't alright, I wouldn't expect you to be but seeing you would at least settle my own mind. Please?” Maybe appealing to that part of him would get the older man to agree. Another few moments passed, bringing about a sense of defeat. This wasn't something to barrel through, to hit head on like a bull in a china shop. If Norman didn't want to see anyone,you couldn't force your presence upon him. At least not with his house closed up like this. Just as you were getting ready to turn around, locks disengaging rang out and the door opened. Shadow's bark was significantly louder, the thump of his tail against the door frame audible. 

He looked rough, like he hadn't been sleeping. Something that was relatable. More than that, it was in the way that he held himself. A man defeated had a certain posture after all. An awkward silence fell over the two of you as you stood there before the door opened a bit more and he stepped to the side, a silent signal to come inside. The crutches hopefully made enough noise for him to be able to keep his feet out of the way as you entered the home, as mindful of where you were placing them as you could be. The last thing that was needed was for you to cause a physical injury to the man. 

“When did you get home?” 

“Today.” A grunt was the response that you got and honestly, you hadn't expected much more. The house was dark, though it didn't matter much to Norman and you weren't going to say a damn thing. He led you to the kitchen, where he was having some coffee from the smell that lingered in the air. 

“They have her in jail.” That perked your ears up as you eased yourself into the seat. Crutches were kept close by just in case quick movement was needed.

“Good.” Your voice had come out firmer than intended. But really, it was where the young woman deserved to be. She had killed someone, not just someone but a child. All because she had been stupid about drinking and driving. Frankly, at this rate, she shouldn't leave. Two lives permanently altered in ways that could never be repaired by one decision of a third party. Maybe it would have been just injuries to you and Emma if you had moved faster. Hurling your body in the way of the oncoming car in an attempt to get the girl out of the way or at least shield her to some degree had been an instant reaction. If only it would have worked. 

Clearing your throat a little, you tried to shrug off the anger that had been growing in presence day after day for the last two weeks. “It's no less than deserved. The police hadn't been by to talk much to me besides that first week I was actually conscious. I've been a bit out of the loop on what is happening.” The idea of checking your phone had fallen to the wayside in the focus of getting ready to leave the hospital. He set a cup of coffee down in front of you without having asked. The warmth of the cup seeped into your chilled hands, causing you to close your eyes for just one moment. 

“She'll rot in jail.” She better. But it wasn't like a trial was going to happen any time soon. Those things took time. An extended amount of time, with additional suffering to come for the both of you. Norman fell silent for a long while, staring off in that unseeing fashion of his, eyes seemingly focused just above your right shoulder. What more was there to say?  “You're on crutches.” An observation without any real direction.

“Yep.”

“They wouldn't give you a prosthetic?” 

“I opted not to get one right away. Getting out of there and home was more important to me. I have an appointment set up in two weeks with a physical therapist and someone who can fit me for one.” Your voice grew softer for just a second, obvious to the both of you. Was it self consciousness that caused it? A worry of bringing up something that would upset him? 

“And your other injuries?” A wince that you were thankful could not see came before you could stop it. A feeling of guilt crawled the back of your throat, robbing you of your voice for a mere moment. 

“Things that will heal with time. Some medicines for the rest of my life.” And the daily reminder that you just hadn't acted quick enough. Something that would haunt you every time you looked down and saw the empty space where your right left should have been. “All things that I can manage.” He hadn't said anything about himself, about how he was dealing. Poorly. There was no need to put a word to it but hearing it would at least lead in a direction of knowing what to do to help him. He was deflecting, though you had pleaded with him to let you in on the basis of not having him talk. Silently, you were able to reach out and carefully curl your fingers around his hand. For a brief moment, tension wracked you as the expectation of him pulling away reigned up. Instead, there was a slight tremble and he was curling his own fingers in response, squeezing her hand tightly. 

*****

Daily trips over to Norman's became routine. It was good for the both of you, in all honesty. Getting out of the house instead of sulking around and wallowing, despite arguing that it wasn't a pity party, did you no good. And the same could be said for the older man. A familiar motion that helped dictate the day and forced the both of you to keep to a schedule. He was a little more open in talking about it, letting you know what the detectives had to say and where everyone was at with the case. You couldn't speak to the sinking feeling that rolled in your gut any time that it was discussed but it was shoved to the side and never mentioned. The man had enough stress. 

He was good for forcing you to talk about where you were at with your physical therapy and the prosthetic. You had been fitted for it several weeks ago. Things weren't one size fits all. The molding process had been interesting, with a reassurance that it would be correct once it came in. And finally, after a long wait, it came in two days ago. You hadn't realized physical stress that just the therapy would have you going through, let alone the entire concept of learning to walk again. Because that was what it was. Relearning to walk. Balance would be all new, weight shifts entirely different, and movement to adjust to when it came to walking. 

There had been an argument between yourself and your therapist that had left you stewing, in a rotten mood that was volatile at best. Norman had realized something was wrong when he ran into you while out walking Shadow. Shadow, as always, let out that excited bark and his tail started going a mile a minute. It was not acknowledged on your end and the silence was clearly enough of a tip off for him.

“Did it go that poorly today?” You jumped, startled by the comment, and the fact that he had engaged when you hadn't said a damn thing. A huff was the only response he got for a long moment. 

“I ended up in an argument with my therapist.” The words were a little sullen. Not typical at all. He waited patiently, not saying anything else, forcing you to elaborate. Pulling the information out of you without being too forceful but with the knowledge that he could be as stubborn as you. “They wanted to keep the prosthetic there until I properly learned to walk….” The words caught for a moment, not wanting to admit to struggling with it. Everything about the weight distribution felt wrong to your body. 

“I wanted to be able to bring it home so that I can work at my own pace, without all those eyes on me.” He hummed for a moment, not saying anything else right away, mulling over the information as his hands folded over top of his cane. 

“They let you?” 

“Yes.”

“Then why are you sitting here?”

“What?”

“If they let you bring it home, why are you sitting here and not walking?” The words that your therapist had said rang around your head. Coupled with the frustration over the entire situation, you had opted to sit and stew in the anger. It was easier. Mentally and physically. Still, Norman was right. And if there was one person in the world that you couldn't argue with right now, it had to be Norman. That sight less gaze seemed to settle on you, his head ever so slightly tilted, listening for your reaction. You knew the signs well enough by now. “Get your things and come over.” Now, that was entirely unexpected. Realizing that he was serious, you pulled yourself up and moved to grab everything into a bag.

*******

Norman knew his house intimately, which is the reason why he chose to do it in his space rather than yours. Every uneven floor board that would cause a balance shift, which wall would easily be reached as a brace if falling down. And how to move easily through the space, forcing you to move after him. Like a game of chase. An annoying game of chase.  

But there seemed to be a method to his madness as you were starting to get the hang of movement. It wasn't just walking in a straight line. No, this was actual movement, natural in hoe you would operate day to day. There were plenty of stumbles, sending you crashing down to the hard wooden floor. But the gruff responses demanded that you get back to your feet. 

Exhaustion began to tug at the edges of your consciousness. Muscles ached and protested each movement as they strained further and further under unfamiliar stress. The stumbles became more common and that sense of anger came rushing back, but along with it an embarrassment that you weren't picking up as fast as you wanted. That you were looking like a fool in front of Norman. 

He had demanded that you attempt the stairs. Well, more like a suggestion without room for any argument. It took effort to even think at this point how to shift your weight and the movement needed to swing your leg. Norman was close this time, closer than he had been while moving throughout the house. A brace of sorts, just in case there ended up being a tumble down the stairs. 

The first step was managed well enough, the second with a little more difficulty but by the third, your body had decided that it had enough. Thankfully, you want tumbling forward instead of backwards into Norman. Your fingers scrapped against the wood of the stairs, a shaky breath taken as your throat constricted for a moment. 

“I think that's enough for today. Come on, let's get you resting.” The raspy, grizzled voice of the older man was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality at this point; grounding you in a way that let the desire to scream, to cry, to throw things fade into the background. You were tired, hurt, and angry. But the warm hands against your hips helped to guide you back to a standing position. “Think you can get back down? Or do you want the crutches?”

“Might as well try.” The stairs were narrow, so Norman couldn't stand beside you. But, he stayed in front of you despite the risk of being toppled into, hands remaining against your hips to help act as an extra brace. The stabilization actually helped as you managed to get down the two steps, nearly sagging into the wall to your left. The older man had the audacity to chuckle. You wanted to be upset about it but found that you didn't have it in you. 

“We will work more tomorrow.” 

“Norman, you don't have to…”

“I'll stop by after my morning walk with Shadow.” You knew the routine well enough after all. When the man had his mind made up, he was all but impossible to deter. It was in that moment that you realized his hands were still pressed against you. A fact that you hardly minded. They weren't moving and neither was he as he was still crowded close. The presence was both exciting and comforting. You would be a liar if you said that he hadn't felt attraction to the man, had since you had first met. But it had never seemed appropriate. 

“Okay.” Again, it was an argument that wasn't going to be winnable. His mind was set. This close, you could see the way that his lips seemed to twitch upward, the hints of a smile present. And in response, you found yourself mirroring the expression. “I'll be ready.”

“Good.” With that confirmation, he pulled you away from the wall, as if you were nothing more than a feather in his grasp, one arm sliding around your waist to help you keep your balance. “You can take it off on the couch. Do you need to do anything with it now?” 

“Gotta make sure I don't have any blisters, pressure patches, or breakdowns in the skin.” That was easy enough to focus on, even as the warmth of his body beside yours was making it difficult to focus. “I'll clean up when I get home and use the cream that they gave me.” He helped you get settled down on the couch. 

“Can I?” His hands moved forward before hesitating. You hadn't had anyone besides the doctors and nurses touch the area. You hated having to do it yourself. But, as he waited for permission, you found that you couldn't deny the request. 

Carefully, you took his hands and guided them to the prosthesis. Norman moved his hands slowly over the entire thing, kneeling beside the couch to be able to trail them down to the foot before back up, all the way up to your thigh. 

“They did a good job.” Again, the touch lingered. For a second, you swore he could hear your heart racing, the almost unsteady beat loud in your ear. The moment was far more intimate than it had a right to be. Were you reading into it too much? Maybe. Norman hadn't exactly shown all that much interest in anything more than the steady friendship that had formed between the two of you.

“Yeah.” Finally, he pulled away and inched up to settle onto the couch beside you. The entire world felt off kilter, in an entirely new way. “Yeah, it's supposed to ultimately function better than some of the older models. I didn't exactly understand the technical stuff on how the knee hinge works but I know it cost the VA a pretty penny.” 

Carefully, the process of removing it was begun. The movements were still a little foreign to you but something you were getting the hang of; eventually they had said you would be able to do it in your sleep. Norman's fingers wrapped around your forearm, squeezing lightly. Actions paused immediately, you glanced towards him, trying to determine what the touch was for. 

“Give yourself a second.” You didn't understand what he meant. “You're shaking. And I can hear the little noises of pain.” You hadn't realized that you were even making noise, and now that he had pointed it out, you could feel the tremors in your hands and arms. He had noticed it all before it had registered. 

After a few moments, the process was finished and you tucked the prosthetic in the bag, along with the sock. The skin was a little red and there were some indentations along the pressure points but overall, nothing looked worrisome or terrible. Thankfully. 

“Better?” A rush of gratitude welled up. Shadow nudged your hand on the other side and in that moment, you realized that just as you hadn't wanted Norman alone, you weren't either. Swallowing hard to push back the emotion and chalking it up to the exhaustion that you were feeling, it took a second to respond. 

“Yeah, better. Thanks, Norman.” Unable to help it, you found yourself leaning into him just a bit as you scratched Shadow behind the ear. It didn't feel like it was too much or stepping over the line after the way that Norman had been close before. Hopefully, that wasn't too bold an assumption. For a second, it may have been when he seemed to tense before you could feel him relax. The final reassurance was when his arm curled around your shoulders, an unfamiliar but incredibly comforting weight that brought a smile to your face.  

[naavispider]

Stephen Lang interview with Sarah Cook

On Quaritch adapting to his new way of living - “There were scenes actually of learning the Na’vi way, which were great fun to shoot… they were very much part of his story, his journey. But you gotta stop at some point.”

On Quaritch's relationship with Spider - "It's difficult. It's not something he's looking for, it's not something he particularly wants. And yet, there it is. Spider is referred to earlier on in the film as something of a 'stray cat', and I like that and I think that Quaritch probably has a certain affinity for stray cats when you get right down to it. And of course he has a personal relationship with Spider whether he chooses to acknowledge it or not."

"He's tryna convince himself that the kid means nothing to him, but... that ain't gonna fly."

X

God help me whY did they delete any of those scenes of him learning to be more Na'vi, that is PRIME Spider + Quaritch bonding content!! When/if they’re finally released you will find me quietly sobbing under a blanket :)

[1strecomdejablue]

Finally decided to watch Scream VI and yep, that’s Jack Champion looking like the son of Stephen Lang with that curly hair.  

[ohtobemare]

✨ coming soon✨

118, Nathaniel Taylor x fem!OC

summary ➤ "For them, it was just the blink of an eye. For us? 118 days."

It's a long time to be alone with someone you barely know. 'Lotta days of wondering if this was it, the grandiose dream of Terra Nova they'd all been promised. But it's also a good chunk of time to change minds, to form new opinions. To give —your heart; ideas, your future —away.

This is ground zero.

pairings: Commander Nathaniel Taylor x fem!OC

warnings: age gap, complete canon deviation/rewrite, Jurassic Park elements, a whole lot of made up futuristic tech, survival technique based on limited research, convenience marriage to lovers, messing with the Terra Nova timeline, age of the earth/sciencey opinions, conspiracy theories/government enemies.

0 | the befores (teaser)

[sith-darth7nerder]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44321668

I conquered writers block!!! It might not be a big achievement but it makes me so happy to publish the last chapter for this story. (There might be a sequel) 

Chapters: 8/8

Fandom: Avatar (Cameron Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Miles Quaritch & Original Female Character(s), Colonel Miles Quaritch/Original Female Character

Characters: Miles Quaritch, Human Miles Quaritch, Original Female Character

Additional Tags: Miles Quaritch - Freeform, Miles Quaritch in love, Falling In Love, Colonel Quaritch being shy, I am a simp and I know it, Age Difference, age gap, Older Man/Younger Woman, Love at First Sight, Love Confessions

Summary:

Colonel Miles Quaritch is hard, ruthless and he makes sure everyone knows who is in charge at Hell's Gate. Dr Mia Thompson is silent, sweet and she hates to be noticed. Two perfectly opposite individuals. She gives life to Avatar while he loves to Kill Na'vi yet Miles couldn't help but feel drawn to this innocent girl. Will these two stubborn elites of their own field ever let down their walls to accept what fate had sent their way?

[thedespot]

Character.ai : Miles Quaritch

Lol, jeez relax old man ! Say it, don't Spray it ! This is why I can't be a Solider ¡

[pandoraheadcanons]

Everyone deciding to thirst over the villain and ignore any actual story is so unfortunately on brand for modern fandom

[timetravellingshinigami]

Now i imagine Quaritch manipulating the fuck out of a Na'vi leader's daughter for power, because you know "jake Sully did it the hard way?"

Well he's gonna do it his way.

[ontarom]

I’m pretty sure Stephen Lang asks his directors “How cunty do you want me?” and then goes 10% above what the director said, just because he can.

[slxsherwriter]

🌹 🌹🌹

I'm gonna cheat and give a sentence from three WIP instead of three sentences from one because I'm hyped on all of them.

Frank grinned against the shell of her ear, unable to stop the sense of pride that came with each soft mewl that left the omega as his fingers continued to tease. (Alpha Frank x Omega reader)

The raspy, grizzled voice of the older man was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality; grounding you in a way that let the desire to scream, to cry, to throw things fade into the background. (Norman Nordstrom x reader)

"Afternoon, Stuart," you greeted the older man cheerfully, clearly catching him off guard as he visibly startled. (Stuart Lloyd x reader)

[indoraptorgirlwind]

Favorite Fandom & Favorite Character From That Fandom (You Can List More Than One)

Hmm... i think i'm gonna go with mcu for now.

And favorite character? Oh man, i have 3 actually

Scott Lang

Peter Quill

Stephen Strange (even tho i have forgotten a little about him because of my Scott Lang hyperfixation 😅)

[1strecomdejablue]

- Stephen Lang 

[purplefeathersandblackleather]

Christmas With the Avengers Men

(Dragon Soul AI canons ahoy. Do not read if you don't like out of character writings. You have been warned.)

It's Christmas and you've been inviting to the Compound to spend time with the men of the Avengers! You are fascinated by how each of them is handling the holiday. So, who are you most drawn to?

Tony "Iron Man" Stark

Life of the party, definitely the one who put the whole thing together and is easily the one entertaining everyone.

Avoids the mistletoe like the plague. Until you stop under it then he gives you a quick kiss with a flirty wink.

Keeps track on everyone coming and going. Social leader who takes his found family's safety very seriously.

Reluctantly agrees to help decorate the ten-foot tree in the main room. Secretly enjoys it which becomes apparent by the way he fusses over the placement of certain ornaments.

Doesn't drink liquor due to recovering alcoholic. Prefers sparkling cider, cranberry juice and ginger ale. Hates the smell of eggnog with a seething passion.

Tells the dumbest Christmas stories that embarrasses everyone at the party. He remembers waking up in Stephen's room one year in nothing but a red ribbon.

Despite having no Christmas traditions of his own, he accepts everyone's as his own and does at least one thing that everyone wants to.

Doesn't sing during Christmas songs but will dance with whoever asks him to. He fancies 50s versions of the carols. His favorite is Trans-Siberian Orchestra's version of Sarajevo 12/24.

At the end of the party, he makes sure all of his friends are covered up with heavy throws, so they won't be cold when they wake up in the compound.

Damon "Dragon Soul" Renner

Quiet social elite who tends to everyone's needs throughout the party. Makes sure everyone's glasses are filled.

Brings gifts for everyone based off of their personal preferences or religious beliefs. Is mindful not offend anyone.

Keeps everyone else in line when they start to get drunk with a fatherly demeanor. He's very well spoken and able to calm them down without force.

Is the one responsible for most of the baked goods around the gathering; he's spent hours make sure there's enough to go around for everyone.

Prefers mulled cider over alcohol but will have at least one flute of champagne at some point during the night.

Sings every song very well, even the ones in Latin, due to his age. He leads but will do backup when someone else wants to lead.

His favorite tradition is to make wreaths by hand, which he did with his ancestors' spirits may times as a child. He places flocking on them using his magic.

Entertains the group by telling Christmas stories using images made with his magic. His favorite to tell is the time that Apalala saw snow for the first time once they returned to Earth.

His favorite Christmas song is Please Come Home for Christmas by The Eagles. He dances with Tony to this song each year.

When the party ends, he takes care of clean up while tony is making sure everyone is comfortable.

Thor "God of Thunder" Odinson

Is the first one to liven up the party by bringing out the drinks he brought from Asgard and lighting the large bonfire fire in the pit in the center of the patio.

Despite his boisterous personality, he's very polite to the others at the party and listens with interest as everyone tells their stories of their holidays on Earth or otherwise.

His favorite tradition, like that of his nephew Damon, is to make wreaths out of boughs of holly, each with a ribbon that signifies someone that has passed and is still with him in spirit.

Tends to stay away from the Earth liquors after the incident he had with Stephen in the Sanctum, but he does enjoy the cider that Damon makes for him with orange and cinnamon.

Stays near to Loki most of the time, though he does tend to not pull on his reins too tightly. He truly enjoys the sight of his brother showing his Jotunn side as he makes it snow for the party, even if the weather didn't call for it.

Found a song that he does favor thanks to his chosen family that reminds him of Asgard called Hail the Holly King by Inkubus Sukkubus. He does enjoy the sounds of everyone else singing the Earth carols, even if he doesn't join in.

He has the second most embarrassing Christmas stories (to Loki anyhow) that he recalls with the Warriors Three that include pranking Hela (which she got the back for later) and waking up in questionable locations.

He is the one who provides the food for the feast, a typical tradition of Yule, with a large roast boar and many different sides. The savory compliment to Damon's baking.

Is the last to leave the compound the next day because he's typically working off a hangover but bids everyone thanks before leaving back to Asgard.

Loki "Father Winter" Laufeyson

Unlike his brother, he doesn't immediately make his presence known and instead only appears once people start questioning why the plants are frosting over on the edges.

Brings blown glass and hand-crafted ornaments for the decorating around the compound that he used his own magic to create. Some of them took weeks to complete and typically all have coordinating colors to the Avengers.

He typically stays away from stronger alcohols and instead drinks wines or other fruit flavored beverages that way he stays sober enough to keep an eye on Thor once he's drunk.

Being married to King Jokul, he has reign over the snow and ice element, so he's very happy to indulge anyone who wishes to see it snow early and engage in Stephen over who has to deal with more winter conditions throughout the year.

His favorite tradition is ice skating, which he will teach you how to do using the lake on the compound grounds if you ask him nicely, maybe even stroke his ego a little bit.

Shares just as many stories as Thor does, to embarrass his brother in return. But his favorite to tell is the birth of his son, Slepnir who he finally reunited with some years after Odin passed away and bonded with.

Doesn't have a favorite Christmas song though he does enjoy the instrumentals more than the lyrical ones. He has told Tony to stop singing because he considers him "off key" though it's all in good fun.

Like Thor, he brings food for the feast as well, but in the form of fresh vegetables and fruits from the gardens and orchards of Ravenrock, the kingdom of his Jokul Frosti.

He does his best to keep Thor in line whenever he begins to get too boisterous during the festivities, since it had always been a habit that he had ever since they were kids that he still can't shake even though he knows now they're not relatives.

As the second to leave due to the responsibilities he has to Ravenrock and the TSA, he obliges if you ask for a dance and will even leave you with a gift - an enchanted rose made of pure ice that will never melt - as a thank you for a wonderful night.

Bruce "The Hulk" Banner

Despite being on edge almost all of the time, Bruce is very polite and the first to welcome most the guests to the party. He is soft spoken and easy to get along with.

Spends most of his time keeping things organized and making sure that Damon and Clint don't need any help taking things to and from the kitchen but will engage in conversation if spoken to first about anything.

Politely turns down alcohol since he doesn't like the way that it blurs the lines between himself and his powers. He doesn't want to accidentally transform, even if he can control it now.

Like Clint, he tries to be the voice of reason to the people of the party when they begin to get too rowdy, especially if Clint has a hard time hearing them due to the loss in his left ear.

His favorite tradition is cooking, despite not having much experience before he became a part of the Avengers. He is quick to offer his help to Damon or whoever is in the kitchen and doesn't burn things too badly (usually).

Has no stories to tell of Christmas but recalls a few events fondly when he was in South America celebrating Christmas among the people there, seeing the children opening gifts in the villages.

His favorite decorations are the knick knacks that sit on top of the table and the red and green candles in cradles of holly that sit in the upper windows where they won't get bumped and knocked over, which Stephen has Cloak help him place.

Too shy to sing, Bruce would rather engage in dancing with someone during the carols, especially the lesser-known songs like Merry Christmas Baby by Ike & Tina Turner. His favorite song however is Christmas (Please Come Home) by Darlene Love.

While Damon and Clint clean up and Tony makes sure everyone is comfortable if they've passed out after the party, he sees out the guests that leave and bid them a safe, happy holiday.

Clint "Hawkeye" Barton

Is the second life of the party, making sure everyone is actually having a good time and staying comfortable doing their own thing and not pressured into being in a group.

He brings gifts for everyone that are personal in nature, based off of things he's learned of the group over the years.

He's quick to remind everyone even when drinking himself that being drunk doesn't mean being stupid and to keep the fun civilized around the group.

His favorite tradition is to bake and decorate sugar cookies and he's damn good at it. He's been baking cookies with his kids every year since his oldest was born. His favorites to make are snowflakes and reindeer because they're the favorites of his little boys and girl.

He has the most heartwarming Christmas stories about his mother when he was a kid despite his rough upbringing and enjoys telling ones about his own family.

He's the one who can get the tinsel up the top of the tree just by throwing it like a lasso. No one bothers to question how or why it always lands perfectly, given who he is. Frosted glass ornaments with glitter are his favorite.

He sings all of the unconventional Christmas songs, like Jimmy Buffet's Mele Kalikimaka and Chuck Berry's Run, Run Rudolph. But his favorite song out of all of them is actually All I Want For Christmas by Vince Vance & The Valiants because he danced with his wife to it on one of their first dates.

Enjoys drinking cider with whiskey but much rather drinking hot cocoa with cayenne pepper and whipped cream.

Is the first to leave the party after wishing everyone a Happy Holiday to get back to his family who he knows are waiting for him back at the ranch

Stephen "Doctor Strange" Strange

Absolutely avoids everyone when he first arrives due to being in pain from the cold. Once he warms up a bit and his hands stop hurting, he finally joins in the festivities.

Definitely the one responsible for hanging up the mistletoe, mostly to annoy Tony because he knows how to press the man's buttons since they're so similar to his own.

Relies mostly on his magic to help with the party, hanging up the higher decorations with use of his magic. He can't resist wrapping a ribbon or two around the others when they aren't paying attention.

Stays away from the liquor for most of the night, instead enjoying the warm drinks like cocoa, cider and coffee which warm his hands when he holds them. When the night begins to get a little further in, he indulges with a glass of rose champagne during the toast.

Helps embellish Damon's stories with use of his own magic but doesn't seem to have many stories of his own to tell. At least night until you speak to him privately and he tells you about a time with his brother and sister as kids.

Finds ways to make the good kind of chaos around the party, like turning Thro's mead into cider or using ice magic to try and outmatch Loki in a contest of who can ice over the windows faster around the compound.

Sings all of the 50s versions of the carols, particularly enjoying Bing's version of White Christmas and Sinatra's Jingle Bells. His absolute favorite is Little Saint Nick by The Beach Boys.

Doesn't have any particular traditions that he partakes in but is quick to learn everyone else's so he can be a part of them in the next year's get together.

Is the first to try and leave the party but is easy to stop by asking for a last slow dance. Which turns into another and one more until he's forced to stay the night.

T'Challa "Black Panther" Ross

Even though he's not used to American traditions of Christmas, he comes because he has chosen the Avengers as his family and he's happy to socialize.

Is polite and happy to engage in conversation and help decorate around the compound when given instructions where everything goes. However, he's quick to catch on and eventually ends up telling others where things go.

Declines to drink anything aside from tea or cider because he feels responsible for everyone around the compound just as Tony does. That isn't to say he can't be found sneaking a sip of his sister's cocoa just to see how it tastes.

Shares stories about his family during Kwanzaa and the way they celebrate it in Wakanda, since it varies across the lands. His favorite memory is watching his mother light the candles in the kinara and helping his sister do it for the first time when she was little.

Doesn't sing along with the carols but listens closely and remembers the words to ask his husband about when he returns to their palace if he is on a mission or liaison meeting. He does enjoy the piano versions that Damon plays for them, however.

His favorite tradition is to share one's talents with others which if not careful, leads to a lot of fun chaos, especially when Tony and Stephen get involved. He enjoys watching it all unfold however and even gets a laugh in when Clint shows them up.

He is the one to likely ask for a dance first, rather than wait for you to ask because he is keen enough to know that you have been keeping an eye on him all night.

As the third to leave, he's most likely carrying his little sister out of the compound and wishing everyone a blessed holiday until he can see them again.

Scott "Ant Man" Lang

New to the Avengers but a family man at heart, Scott is very easy to get along with and is happy to engage in festivities, from dancing to sharing helping decorate.

Brings simple gifts that him and his daughter chose for everyone, usually just something that can be placed on a shelf and forgotten about later (He says because he knows he'd do it)

Boisterous like Thor and sometimes has to remind himself not to act like too much of an idiot because they're adults despite the gathering making him feel like a big kid.

Doesn't drink due to his history, but he's happy to take a cup of coffee or cocoa if it has a little bit of extra sugar in it to make him feel like he's doing something he shouldn't be.

Challenges Thor to an eating contest and despite being smaller in stature, gives the Asgardian a run for his money but is embarrassed about it later.

Like Clint he has heartwarming stories about his daughter growing up during Christmas and some embarrassing stories of his own like Tony. He recalls waking up in a hotel room bound by tinsel and still having no idea how he got there.

His favorite tradition is wrapping presents, which he helps do immaculately, which surprises everyone. He somehow manages to get the ribbon straight and the edges crisp each and every time.

He loves to sing all of the Christmas songs, even the cheesy ones and his favorite song is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer by John Denver.

He's not drunk, but instead falls asleep at the compound due to a food coma. All of the carbs from the feast and the sugar crash from the cocoa has caused him to pass out in one of the chairs unashamed.

James "White Wolf" Barnes

Keeps his distance for basically most of the night due to his past history with the Stark family until Tony basically drags him out of the shadows. Still takes a while to warm up to the gathering.

Politely declines to drink due to the nanobots in his system not allowing him to enjoy it anyway, but instead drinks cranberry juice or apple cider.

His favorite tradition is advent calendars, which he did with his family back when he was a child and brings small gifts for everyone up to the date that the party is taking place on.

Is the first one to offer help the decorating, making sure that everything is properly aligned since he can see slight angles between the ornaments and the way the garland is hanging around the banisters or the tree.

Doesn't have stories to tell about Christmas because some of them have been lost due to the accident, but instead he spends his time enjoying everyone else's and playfully poking fun at the ones that are embarrassed by other's stories.

Openly and shamelessly admits that he celebrates Yule, Kwanzaa and Christmas all the same due to his history in Russia, Africa and America/England. He is able to give gifts accordingly because of this and is always thoughtful with them.

Doesn't sing during the carols but does hum along as he decorates. His favorite song is Blue Christmas by Elvis Presley because of a past experience that he never discloses.

Despite it being like pulling snake teeth, he can be persuaded to engage in a slow dance to a few songs after the feast if gently coaxed him through the course of the night.

Leaves shortly after everyone settles in because he's not comfortable staying with the group just yet. But makes sure that security is on detail before he actually leaves the area.

This was a blast to write! I hope all of you enjoy it! Happy holidays, no matter what you celebrate~ @strangelockd @harlekin6 @sobeautifullyobsessed @sinisterstrange616 @fanartka @stewardofningishzida @icytrickster17

[sith-darth7nerder]

‘You can’t keep playing with my emotions like this, Dr Mia Thompson.’ It was Miles’ turn to pass her a breathy whisper. His voice was low and growly and his words were meant for only the researcher’s ears.

(I might have never written this chapter due to the brief epiphany I had but gladly I realized I am a simp and it would take me some considerable amount of time to just move on from this fictional man.) 

Chapters: 20/20 Fandom: Avatar (Cameron Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Miles Quaritch & Original Female Character(s), Colonel Miles Quaritch/Original Female Character Characters: Miles Quaritch, Human Miles Quaritch, Original Female Character Additional Tags: Miles Quaritch - Freeform, Miles Quaritch in love, Falling In Love, Colonel Quaritch being shy, I am a simp and I know it, Age Difference, age gap, Older Man/Younger Woman, Love at First Sight, Love Confessions, Aliens, Alien/Human Relationships, Alien Character(s), Alien Cultural Differences, Please Don't Hate Me, Hate to Love, Grumpy Old Men, Na'vi Culture (Avatar - Cameron), Na'vi & Human Interactions (Avatar - Cameron), Na'vi (Avatar - Cameron), Na'vi Language (Avatar - Cameron), Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst Summary:

****Updated**** He returned from death for her. She was in his last breath and he was in every tear that left her eyes. Colonel Miles Quaritch died ten years ago but that did not stop him from returning for her. But Dr Mia Thompson is no longer the young woman she fell in love with.

This story contains the sequel to Match Made in Pandora and that is why the title and summary had been updated accordingly.

[eeyores-stuff]

Parras, the protector

I can barely breathe… my ribs are crunching with each breath I try to take. I can feel the crackles with my hand as my arm is wrapped around my torso to try and keep me from screaming in pain. My eye is throbbing…. My nose is dribbling blood down my chin. I need help… there has to be some building with people in it somewhere… my thigh is aching from where I had been kicked. My sex is aching too. I know I’m gonna piss blood in the morning.

I come across a bar. My vision is blurry with tears, but I can see three letters.

Three letters glow in the late evening darkness- VFW. The fence is open so I hobble through to the front door, pull it open, and shuffle inside. There is a group of men sitting at the bar taking shots and laughing.

The bartender inside is older, his white hair sticking out from under a beanie. He sees me and his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit” he mutters, the men at the bar turning around to look at me.

“Woah, girl, you get back from a tour in hell?” A man in a plaid shirt asks with a smirk.

I stumble as I struggle to stand, a pair of hands grabbing my upper arms from behind. I scream and cover my mouth, my head spinning with adrenaline.

The bartender comes out from behind the bar and brings a steps closer to me.

“Thomas, knock it off. Lou, keep your hands off her- she’s been hurt. I’m gonna clean her up- keep your hands off the good shit” He scolds the two men. He guides me toward a back room in the bar. He doesn’t touch me, but his presence is warm behind me.

The room is dark until he turns on a light.

“Shit… what happened to you, sweetheart…?” He whispers.

“I told a man n-no…” I whimper.

“What’s your name, baby?” He asks, guiding me toward a stool so I can sit.

“Theodora… but everyone calls me Teddybear…” I say, blood dripping off my chin from my nose into my lap. I carefully sit on the stool.

“Teddybear?” He asks. I nod as his blue eyes look me over. He grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. He move so gently that when he comes closer and holds my chin in his hand, I don’t flinch. He wipes my face clean of the dried blood, snot, and tears.

“I’m Fred Parras,” he says softly.

“Hi, Fred…” I say softly.

“Hi, Teddybear,” he smiles.

I try to take a deep breath, but I flinch and groan, my hand quickly flying up to my ribs. Fred comes closer and I am shaking in pain.

Fred reaches to touch me and I watch his every move. He puts my hand on his shoulder and tenderly lifts my shirt to look at my ribs.

A large purple and black bruise spilled down my side and Fred hisses as he looks at it.

“Teddy…. Let me… let me get you some ice” he says, walking out of the little room where we are.

I see a bathroom across the hall and shuffle over to it and weakly shut the door. I work my jeans down and slowly sit on the toilet which thankfully had the seat down. I take a few deep breaths and slowly urinate, the burning making my eyes water and my ears ring.

“Teddy? Teddy, you still here?” I hear Fred call through the door.

“In here… gimme a minute… I’ll be right out…” I whimper.

I try to get up off the toilet, but my thigh has made the executive decision that functioning was not on the menu for tonight…

“Shit…” I whisper. I try again and I am still stuck…

“Teddy? You okay?” Fred asks.

“Uhh… n-not really… I-I’m stuck…” I admit, my cheeks bright pink.

“Stuck? What do you mean stuck?” He asks. “You fall in?” He chuckles lightly.

“No… my leg… my leg has stopped working… I… I need help getting off the toilet…” I say, my cheeks getting pinker.

“Do I need to come in there and help you?” He asks, not hesitating for even a moment to offer to help me.

“D-do… are you sure??” I ask, slightly surprised.

“Of course, I’m sure” he says.

I quickly wipe myself and prepare for him to enter. “Okay…” I say softly.

Fred enters and looks at me, my pants around the middle of my thighs. The large black and blue bruise standing out on my pale skin like a drop of ink on paper.

He steps into the bathroom, his heavy boots taking remarkably soft steps on the floor. He steps in front of me and I am forehead to belly button with this stranger who is looking down at me like I am his little girl.

He claps softly and holds out his hands which I take. He pulls me up off the toilet with soft pants as I try not to scream in pain.

The urine in the toilet bowl is very pink and I know he saw it… he sighs and holds me steady as I pull my pants and underwear up.

“Thank you…” I say weakly as he flushed the toilet.

“No problem,” he nods.

I wash my hands and we go back to the little closet. He hands me the bag of ice and I hold it to my side, the cold making my eyes water.

“You gonna go to the hospital?” He asks.

“Nope.” I reply, my nosebleed starting again. “Shit… I’m sorry…”

Fred gently holds a paper towel to my nose and sighs softly.

“You should get the morning-after pill. I’ll drive you to the pharmacy,” he says, leading me to the bar.

“Closing time, boys. Get your asses up and outta here,” he says, the men protesting and trying to argue.

“Hey, hey, hey! I’ll be open tomorrow! Get out. I have business to take care of” he scolds, the men listening to him and leaving. I receive a few dirty looks before Fred takes me out back to his beat up old truck.

My adrenaline wearing off and the pure exhaustion weighing me down like a lead blanket. The rumble of the truck was like being a baby in a car seat on top of a dryer. I am fighting falling asleep, tooth and nail. We come to a red light and I lean back in the bench seat of the truck and close my eye that isn’t swollen shut, thinking that it will be just for a second. Just for a second….

I am asleep by the time my eyelashes lay on my cheek. I feel a light pressure lay on my chest I open my eyes for a second and see a jacket across my front. The red light from the sign on the CVS pours through the windshield of the truck. I close my eye again and then I feel something pulling me out of the truck. I wake up and I am face to face with Fred.

I rub my eye and groan as he helps me out of his truck.

“We’re gonna get you inside, you’ll take your medicine, and you’ll go to bed, okay?” He says, unlocking his front door. He helps me inside and I slowly sit on the couch. I watch him grab a small bottle of grape juice from the fridge and rip open the pink box containing the morning-after pill. He opens the little blister pack and drops the little pink pearl into my palm. He hands me the juice and I take the pill, the juice soothing the dry ache in my throat.

“Thank you…” I say, my voice gravely.

“Now, you go take a shower. I’ll get you something to wear, and you’ll go to sleep.” He says, helping me off the couch and leading me to the bathroom.

I nod and start getting undressed as he closes the bathroom door. I lay my clothes on the counter, not wanting to look at myself in the mirror. I slowly step into the shower tub and turn on the water. The warm water runs over me and I stand there for a few minutes. I wash myself gently, the soapy water running pink. I wash my hair and try to detangle it with my fingers. I stop the water and grab a towel off the hook on the wall.

I pay myself dry and flinch as the towel grazes my injured flesh.

There is a knock at the bathroom door and the door open a crack before Fred sets a t-shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs on the counter before closing the door again. I take the clothes and put them on before I borrow his comb and gently comb out my hair.

I step out of the bathroom and Fred is in his bedroom getting undressed for the night. He’s built. He’s got his shirt off and he looks fantastic. He takes off his belt and unbuttons his pants, the clinking of his belt making me shiver. He pulls his pants down and he’s wearing light gray boxer briefs and he has a round butt and strong legs. He pulls on a pair of pajama pants and turns to see me looking at him.

“Feel better?” He asks.

I nod and run my hand through my wet hair.

“Good. You take the bed. I’ll crash in my e-z-chair” he says, grabbing a blanket off the bed.

“No! No, please….” I whimper. “I… I’d really rather not sleep alone… please?”

Fred pauses for a moment. He nods and goes to the far side of the bed and lays down. I follow, getting under the covers on the side closer to me. I take a breath and the room falls into darkness as Fred turns off the lamp on the side of the bedside table.

I settle in under the covers and feel Fred turn over in the bed to get comfortable. Sleep comes over me. I begin to dream…

He’s on top of me again. I’m stuck. I am struggling to get loose as he slaps me between my legs. I bite him and he punches me in the face three times before he knees me in the ribs. I spit in his face and he starts kicking me. He pulls out a gun and I scream.

It turns out I screamed in reality too. I bolt up in bed and a loud shriek erupts from me. Shaky sobs wrack my body as I sweat and tremble.

Fred jumped when I screamed and he lets me calm down on my own, not touching me; he probably avoids it to prevent me from getting more scared or accidentally getting whacked when I jump.

I look at him and I see that he is Fred, not Wyatt. He’s not Wyatt… I lay down and hide under the covers, still sobbing and shaking.

Fred figures it’s safe to touch me and his hand traces circles over my back. I turn over and snuggle into his chest. He is warm and he smells so nice… his hand rests on the back of my head and sleep find me again after a little bit.

Sunshine wakes me up in the morning. Fred is still holding me, his hand up the back of my shirt with his palm flat in the middle of my back. I kiss his chest a few times and close my eyes again, thankful for the warmth and safety.

[ohtobemare]

no, no I workout for my fictional husband and all the calamity his lore demands I prepare for