felicitygs | Entries tagged with character: steve rogers

A little collection of (mostly) recent general audiences Avengers fic. Other than the first, all are sub 3000 words as well!!

It Starts Out Like an A-Word (As Anyone Can See) by Amy -- 8 chapter, 8092 words -- Each chapter is it's own little peer through the eyes of one of the Sesame street characters towards different members of the Avengers' team. It's pure fluff, and wonderfully well done. There's definitely nuance to the emotions here, and Amy has an excellent grasp of both the Sesame Street characters and the Avengers. There's no real overarching storyline here, just little scenes, but it's very much worth reading.

Three times Vision changes form on his own (and one time he doesn't) by stories_with_no_ending - 1919 words - Wanda/Vision -- I loved this so so much; it has Vision beginning to question their gender, how they fit with it, and how they fit within their body, and it's handled gracefully and gently. Wanda immediately works on trying to understand what Vision is going through, and by the end everyone has pretty much accepted this about Vision. I just love this so much, and wish things were this easy in the real world.

by Hydra_Trash_Gal - 448 words - Tony & Winter Soldier/Bucky -- A very very quick and low-angst (but still angst) fic about the Soldier (and Bucky) asking forgiveness and Tony eventually giving it.

Married?? by smith_lyra - 1198 words - Loki & Tony Stark -- Enemies to friends! It's very quick, and done in the 5+1 format that's almost always a delight to read. I love that it just assumes we're along for the premise, and doesn't spend ages trying to justify itself for what it is--some very fun, comedic fluff.

Modern Inconveniences by matrixrefugee - 237 words -- A Steve Roger's study, with his reaction to the drastically different textile practices of the modern day from what he grew up with. I love these sorts of little deep dives!

My Dad is my Hero by itislacey - 1792 words - Tony & Peter, Tony/Pepper -- A very cute kid!Peter and dad/mom Tony and Pepper. This is so adorable I wanted to claw my face off, and itislacey absolutely nailed how kids talk and act at that age. It's great, and there's some absolutely lovely family dynamics in here.

I'll Protect You by tonystank - 427 words - kid!Thor & kid!Loki -- A cute little kid!Loki has a nightmare and goes to kid!Thor to help. Ends on an angst note tho ;n;

Butter, Sugar, Flour, Salt by victoria_p - 536 words - Bucky focused -- I love food and I love fics where it's obvious the author also loves food, and so here we are. Food as memory, and food as a connection between people, too. This is short but lovely, just like the cookies referenced within the fic.

Continuing from where we left off yesterday with some overlap.....

Steve's waiting in the hallway outside Loki's room, like Thor asked him to, and he can hear the two brother's arguing. Mostly, he can hear Thor, who keeps getting loud, then quiet, then loud again.

Loki, it seems, is more restrained about raising his voice.

Eventually, the door opens, and there is Thor.

( Read more... )

From this post on tumblr:

thelightofthingshopedfor asked: That hero/villain post you just reblogged made me think--have you ever written something where Steve's in trouble and he goes to Loki for help, basically a reverse of the original RTC setup? I know you've written Loki observing Steve and sometimes stepping in to help, but I'm not sure if you've written anything with Steve (or any card-carrying Good Guy, really) being in enough trouble to decide Loki's the better alternative.

veliseraptor:

oh man I really want to write this and/or for this to exist and I just need someone to help me figure out how to make it exist, because yeah, Steve for some reason thinking to go to Loki for help would be such a Thing and I’m into this idea a lot

consider this either a) request for ideas or b) free prompt to good home

post-avengers 1 diverge

Steve knows precious little about magic.

(If he's honest, he's not even sure he believes in magic, that what Thor and his brother do is magic, but he doesn't want to say it's not either, because--because... well.

There were just aliens all over New York, and Thor's from an entirely different planet, so maybe.

He can't say there's not magic, that's for sure.)

( Read more... )

Not feeling any of the meet uglies, the vague melancholy Steve Rogers is Sad(tm) fic isn't really working out, and don't feel like working on the novel rewrite, so here's some prompts:

1. One of the few 'joys' of working the skate rental booth over winter break has and will always be watching the adults try and fail to teach children how to skate. Perhaps he's mean spirited, but Loki never quite manages it for this years cute new instructor--a scrawny guy with blond hair and blue eyes and a smile that is as disgustingly sincere as it is wide.

2. Loki is perfectly capable of getting his christmas tree on top of his car thank you, and he doesn't need some tall blond and stupid stranger's help.

3. Steve's been working at the coffee shop for a while now, and he doesn't mean to snoop, but he can't help hearing one of the regulars on the phone and a declaration they're not going home for Christmas, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

4. Steve's new neighbor has been hiding inside since they moved next door, but after the snowstorm, they can't hide forever. There's snow piled high on a sidewalk that needs clearing; Steve's happy to help, but first he needs to see if said neighbor is even alive. He wades through the mid-shin high snow to the front door and knocks.

5. Steve doesn't usually work the late night shift at the grocery, but since he lives in walking distance and there's a blizzard en route, he volunteers to take someone else's shift. Unfortunately, that means he's also working with the grumpiest and most sour stocker he's ever had to work with; it's not his fault there's a storm, so maybe Loki shouldn't act like it is when they both get snowed in.

gaslightgallows wrote this in response to my comment on their title meme:

It’s one of the few things Steve still has that no one can touch: the simple taste of citrus fruit, gone from Depression-era rarity to dizzingly common. And it’s one of the things he’s hesitant to share. But for one broken Asgardian prince, back from the dead one too many times to ever be quite whole again, he might consider making an exception.

And frankly, I couldn't resist, so here we are. [crosspost to AO3]:

It's cold, on the roof of the compound, and the forest all around them is dark and towering. Steve shuts the door to the roof behind him quietly, steps further out so he can see a bit better by the moonlight, then pauses.

There's someone else here.

It takes a very long few seconds for him to relax; he's been so keyed up since... everything, and as much as he appreciates the chance to relax out in the middle of nowhere, there's just--

They spent a long time running, once Thanos was dead.

"I know you're there," a rough and low voice says, and finally Steve knows who it is--Loki.

"I didn't know anyone else was up here," Steve says in reply, approaching cautiously. He's still not entirely sure what to make of Loki--Thor had said Thanos strangled him, and Steve believes that, and he believes Thor never thought to see Loki again. He didn't see Thor's face when Loki showed back up, skin tinged with the faintest orange glow; he was too busy staring at Bucky, somehow alive and whole, too busy with his own world. It wasn't until after that Steve... that any of them realized Loki was there.

Sometimes, just barely, Steve's seen the faintest flicker of orange at Loki's joints, a gleam in his eyes.

"Mm," is all Loki says in reply as Steve joins him at the edge of the roof. Steve leans against the thick ledge that Loki's sitting on.

He's seemed... different, from what Steve remembers. What any of them remember. But then, that was years and several disasters ago. In the silvery moonlight, he's all contrasts.

Steve doesn't comment how the light seems a lot warmer than it should where it touches Loki's skin.

"Can't sleep?" Steve asks.

"I am not up here to make conversation," Loki says, only his eyes sliding to view Steve askance, the slightest dip at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright." Steve looks away from Loki, looks out across the forest that swallows up the light, then up at the stars and sky. Steve's glad they aren't up there, that they're finally back on Earth, that things are finally starting to mend. It doesn't change how his stomach twists all the same staring up at the firmament.

They don't talk, and Loki doesn't look at Steve again. He just sits, a shadow in the periphery of Steve's vision. Eventually, Steve can feel the thoughts that propelled him up to the roof settle, the promise of sleep creeping into his bones, the lids of his eyes.

"Good night," Steve tells Loki.

Loki hums, a low and warm sound, but he does not turn from where he stares out across the forest.

If Steve's honest, he didn't expect him to.

( Read more... )

Will I do a ton of these? Who knows!! But I've got a fair bit of spare time at the moment thanks to regular classes ending, and want to squeeze in a little more writing before 2018 calls it quits. So let's go!!!!

01. we were set up on a blind date but it went horribly, so now you message me every time you have a good date because you think your tips will help me in the future, you ass

- from this list of meet ugly prompts

Steve is well-versed in having things go wrong. He's well-versed in embarrassment, well-versed in disappointment, in things just deciding to go sideways for no discernible reason (and sometimes do so for discernible ones). A lot of people forget that he was a scrawny runt of a kid, and didn't really hit his growth spurt until he was almost twenty-five (at least, the people who met him later in life; Bucky sure as hell as never let him live it down), but Steve knows, on an intimate level, just what it's like to be embarrassed.

And yet, and still, it feels like none of it prepared him for this.

So here's a tip from the newest date: don't spill the wine all over the table. He very much did not spill any wine on the table, and lo, we had a good date.

Steve got the text last night; he's left it on read since then, because part of him doesn't want to dignify it with a response. But the other part of him, the part that would yell at bullies, the the part that's some scrappy kid who just can't shut up, absolutely wants to give Loki a piece of his mind; eventually, that's the part that wins out.

I don't know how I could have predicted the waiter was going to bump into the table while I was pouring the wine, Steve shoots back, and then he pockets his phone, grabs his gym bag, and heads out for the gym.

He knows he shouldn't respond; that Loki's just trolling, but he can't help it.

It's not his fault their blind date was a disaster.

***

( Read more... )

Another fill for happystevebingo. You can find my card here

Uniform

Steve has worn a lot of uniforms in his day. Almost all of them, some variation on his Captain America uniform. There's some satisfying about putting it on, too, but Steve thinks a lot about how much violence his uniforms have in them--defending others, yes, of course, but that doesn't change how many punches his thrown or people he's killed while wearing it.

Sometimes, he wonders if that's all he's good for. Not often, not during the day but...

This one is something else.

To start, it's not a real uniform, not in the official sense. It wasn't issued by anyone, he doesn't have to wear it. But... well, Steve likes having something he can wear for a job, even if the 'job' here is really volunteering. That doesn't make it less work, but the only exchange going on is bettering someone's life with a bit of his time.

Jeans, collared flannel, leather jacket. Notebook in one pocket, pen. Key in the other, wallet in his back pocket. Combat boots--even all these years later, nothing else feels quite right on his feet. (What if something happens?) It doesn't look much different from what he usually wears, if he's honest, but it's always these specific clothes when he makes his way down to the community center.

"Hey, Steve," Maxine at the front desk says, smiling at him. Her hair's done up different today, a magenta ribbon a bright splash of color against the black of her hair.

"Hey, Maxine," Steve says, signing in. "Your hair looks great."

Her brown cheeks warm, and her eyes crinkle at the edges. "Oh hush you. The kids are waiting. What're you reading today?"

"I was thinking another chapter of Harry Potter," he says. They make a little more small talk before Steve heads towards the room.

It's already a zoo, and Steve can't help grinning as he steps inside and nearly gets hit with a stuffed ball. There's a group painting at one of the tables, a total mess, and Steve knows that he'll have some somewhere on him when he leaves.

That's fine though--that's why he has a uniform.

Another

happystevebingo fill; here's my card .

Cooking

Steve has never been much of a cook. Growing up during a depression (the Great, Steve's read these days, and he's got no idea what was great about it except it was horrible to live through), food wasn't so much about the taste and presentation as not starving. The serum and the army and War World 2 didn't change much--Steve's lived with hunger his whole life, has always had it gnawing at him, so much so he's long since learned how to ignore it. He eats because he needs it, and he eats well because he can now. But cooking? Well, he's still not really figured that out; his comfort food is sure something different from the excess of food available these days.

Steve's from a different era. That's all.

Sam, though--Sam can cook. Steve likes to watch him in the mornings, shirt stretching across his shoulders, music playing on the counter, and he moves with the music as he flips pancakes and fries eggs. Where Steve only cooks for the fuel, cooking to Sam seems like an art--the careful tilt of a pan for omelettes, and easy and unmeasured (but never, ever too much) dollop of butter into the grits, a sixth sense for when to get the bacon out of the pan.

"This is great," Steve will say, and Sam, always always always, "Just like momma makes. Or close enough," with an easy laugh, and Steve knows, in these moments, just how important food can be, and he wishes he had that connection to it Sam so clearly does.

Steve never tells Sam that. Instead, he tries to make that connection now, with Sam; better late, after all, than never.

A fill for

happystevebingo. You can find my card here .

Museum

Steve's favourite part of Avengers outreach is the hospitals; his least favourite, the museums. He's not sure if it really counts as Avengers outreach anyway; he's usually the only one going, and it's always related to history, but--

It's just there's work that needs doing now he feels gets ignored in the hyperfixation on the then.

"Are you sure this is right?" Steve asks Lillian. She's the new intern, professional and put together and her hair so bright a blue that Steve's actually a bit impressed. Hair dyes sure have come a long way in the intervening decades.

"Positive," Lillian says. "Stark said you'd love to take his place."

Steve considers the itinerary again, and has to admit that, for once, Stark isn't actually wrong. He's... touched. It's thoughtful.

"He's not wrong," Steve says, and he goes to get ready.

It's an art museum. A showcase of the impact of the rise of heroes on modern art, with a whole panel of speakers who actually know what they're talking about, and it's less about Steve spouting off 'what really happened' and more just... being there, a member of the community that's having this effect, and he's not even on any panels, he can just... roam.

It's.... nice.

Thanks, he texts Tony between speakers.

No problem I hate that stuff Tony shoots back, quick and easy, but still--

It's kind, the only way Tony's ever willing to be--in passing, brusque, and every attempt to not seem it.

Another

happystevebingo fill. You can find my card here .

Hitchiking

It wasn't like Steve had been planning on hitchhiking. It was just his bike had broken down in the middle of nowhere, and hitchhiking ended up being the best way to keep moving while it was being repaired.

He'd called Tony, of course, and the bike was going to be fine; Tony was going to have someone pick it up, and in the meantime Steve wanted (needed?) to keep moving.

Steve knows he's lucky; he's big and intimidating and there's really not much anyone could do to threaten him. Hitch hiking is relatively safe, for him.

It's afternoon when a trucker pulls over, pushing open the passenger-side cab door and waving Steve in. "Where're you headed?" he asks, and Steve says, "Anywhere, really."

It's been a few days now, stopping at truck stops for food, and Steve's learned a little about his ride. Thor's huge, bigger than Steve; he laughs easier and louder, grins wider, and his eyes are so blue they're like the after image of lightning. He's got a cat, all black with bright green eyes, a little inky void who roams around on a harness at stops to explore and spends most the ride sleeping on a specially made cat bed on the front dash. Thor's been doing cross country drives for years now, and he's half deaf in one ear, and it seems like he has friends everywhere they stop.

"It's just something to pass the time," Thor said when Steve asked why he chose to do this. He doesn't say what he's waiting on, and Steve doesn't ask.

Thor's promised to take Steve as far as Steve wants, so long as Steve pays for his own food, and Steve was quick to agree--everywhere they go, Thor has something to say about the area, about the land and the towns and the stars.

Thor knows a lot about stars.

Tony calls when they've stopped to sleep, and Steve creeps out of the cabin, sits on the step and stares up at the night sky. The desert air is cold out here, but the stars have never been clearer.

"You sure you don't want to meet up and get your bike?"

Steve stares up at the stars, and thinks about how large Thor's laughter is, about the warmth of a stranger opening up their little home, and how easy it's been on the road with him.

"I'm sure," Steve says. "But if I change my mind, I'll let you know.

A better late than never fill for my

happystevebingo card, which you can view here .

Deciduous

Steve double checks his bag--sketchbook, pastels, setting spray. Pencil case with a couple pencils, the gummy eraser, the rubber one. A book, for if he changes his mind once he gets to the park, some water. Assured it's all in order, he closes it up and slings it over his shoulder.

"Be back in a bit," he calls out to what seems empty air.

"Have a good trip, sir," Jarvis replies, voice smooth and soothing as ever. It still, sometimes, gives Steve's goosebumps, but Jarvis themself isn't the problem.

It's hard, picking a favourite season. There's good cases to be made for all of them, and as much as he sees people debate it online, Steve doesn't even have a grudge against winter. But as he walks to the park, the air turning his cheeks pink, he has to say that autumn certainly makes a strong case; maybe even as strong as late spring.

No one really pays Steve any mind at the park; it's one of the only reasons he stays in New York and at the tower with the other Avengers. Everywhere else, he's a celebrity, too well known to go about his day--here, though, he's just another guy. Besides, it's good to be near the rest of the team if there's an emergency. He picks out a spot under a tree with a view over the lake and gets to work, trying to capture a little of the warmth and radiance of the trees before they go into their winter slumbers.

"That's really good," a voice says.

Steve looks up, startled. A man is standing next to him, tall and lean and well-dressed. His eyes are sharp, skin the kind of smooth that only comes from youth or a lifetime of careful control.

"Well thank you," Steve says, managing to smother the instinctive urge to hide his work.

The man looks away, out at the view that Steve has been drawing, then back at Steve.

"Do you take commissions?" he asks.

"Uh, I... not really? Maybe." Steve's a little surprised; whoever this person is, he doesn't seem to know who Steve is.

"Mm, well if you do." The man pulls a business card from the inside breast pocket of his suit, hands it to Steve. The paper is thick, expensive, and it is blank except for the glossy black embossed letters across the center; when Steve tilts the card, they sheen magpie greens and blues. He reads:

Loki LaFey
Investments &Solutions

and a phone number.

"Your work is quite beautiful," Mr. LaFey says, "and I wouldn't mind it in my office."

"I really haven't done commission work, but I'll let you know."

"Good," LaFey says. He gives Steve's sketchbook one last look, and then he leaves, steps clipped and long and fast, a sharp silhouette against the afternoon light and fall colors.

"Well, I'll be damned," Steve says, turning the card over to find a magpie. He has no idea who this guy is, or if he'll even do work for him but...

it's nice, being approached for his art and not for being Captain America.

On the assumption 'better late than never', I'm using some of my restless energy this morning to do a few fills for my

happystevebingo card I never really managed to get around to. You can check out my card here.

Meet the Parents

Steve knows, in theory, what meeting parents is meant to be like. It's meant to be awkward, weird, kind of funny. One, maybe both, the parents will have the worst opinions, and then things get more awkward and a person has to decide how much strain they want to put on their partner. Maybe it all goes well, and a person finds out their partner has great parents, parents you'd be glad to have as in-laws. From what he's seen in movies, in books, that's not really as common, but it's something.

When Steve meets Sam's mother, it's not any of those things, not at first.

His very first impression is she's tiny, but then, a lot of people are tiny to Steve. She's scowling at him with eyes that are awfully familiar, like it's his fault about the mess, and she's probably not wrong--how many times has he wondered if having heroes like him and the others around is what attracts these kind of attacks?--but he just grins and holds an arm out.

"Ma'am."

"I can walk myself," she sniffs, and proceeds to do so. Steve escorts her, gathers up more people to get them out of harms way. There's a little crew of them that Steve leads to the bunker, and once they're all settled, he makes his promises that things will be alright and he'll be back soon with more help, and he goes back out.

It's only later, in the aftermath--

"Momma, thank god you're safe," Sam says, hugging the little lady tight, and Steve's stomach bottoms out for a hot second as he realizes why her eyes looked so familiar.

Steve stands to the side awkwardly as they talk, trying to figure out what to say, if he should say something. What does Sam's mom even think about their relationship? Does she know? Maybe--

"He seems alright," Sam's mother says, sparing Steve a glance, "for a white boy."

Sam laughs, and Steve feels his face heat up a bit.

"Well thank you, ma'am," he says.

"More polite than you," she adds, and Steve feels his smile relax as Sam protests.

Not so bad at all.

Setup-ish for ghost story I’m working on. Actually kind of don’t like it, but that’s because I need to actually research and find the terminology for Tony’s spiel and it’s a drabble, so I didn’t. Ah well. This isn’t going to end up in the final story anyway.

U. Hatred

“You know, they say hate is just the other side of love,” he says, voice smug.

“And heroes are only idiots who live to tell the tale,” Steve returns, trying not to bristle. He doesn’t look up, instead continuing to fill in the details of his sketch.

“You must be the biggest idiot of them all, then.”

“What do you want, Tony?” Steve asks.

“Nothing, can’t a guy just talk? I’m just here to talk. But now that you–”

“Cut the crap,” Steve says, putting his pencil down and looking up at the engineer.

“Right, right, I forget, you want it simple and to the point,” and Steve can hear the implication behind it. His eyes narrow, but Tony is either oblivious or getting exactly what he wants. It’s hard to be sure when he’s wearing his sun glasses.

“Wow, look at you, you’re pretty pissed off about this situation, aren’t you?” Tony asks, leaning forward, peering over the sun glasses to look at Steve. Steve meets his gaze levelly. “Right, fine, since you want to the point, there was an anomoly over the Himalayas giving off gamma radiation that ceased at roughly oh-three hundred hours. Readings suggest it was an Einstein-Rosen bridge, rainbows, special effects, but there’s no footage of it. It lasted approximately three minutes and forty seconds. Which is to say–”

“You think someone or something that shouldn’t be from Asgard is kicking around the Himalayas,” Steve says, cutting Tony off. “We need someone to go look because there are SHIELD agents missing, and possibly civilain casualties. We need me because if it’s Asgardian, it might be Loki and if it’s Loki that might be nasty. I’m not stupid.”

Tony frowns, as if he wasn’t trying to imply that at all. Steve doesn’t feel bad.

If there’s one thing he hates, more than anything, it’s how everyone has been treating him like he’s stupid since he woke up. He’s never been stupid–he might not be a genius like Tony and Bruce, but he can think fast and he can remember things given only a short time. He has no idea how he works with these people and creates the plans he does and yet they all miss that he’s not actually stupid, only working on a culture gap near seventy years wide.

“Where’s Thor?” Steve asks.

“Asgard. Haven’t heard from him. He never did tell us what they did to Loki. Presuming it is Loki, and not some other crazy space viking out for blood. No telling, with space vikings.” Tony still looks confused, as confused as he can with his eyes hidden.

Steve nods.

Traditionally, Steve knows, an engagement ring has a diamond. And, supposing Steve had ever found someone to marry before the super serum–or that he’d not been frozen–he likely would have got one with a diamond too.

But some of what he loves about the future is how easy knowledge is to come by, even though that means sometimes he learns things he doesn’t like.

He won’t get Loki a diamond because there’s a lot he doesn’t like about how they’re gotten, or the trade that goes on around them, but there’s apart of him–a traditional part, Steve Rogers before waking up in the future, a Steve who didn’t know those things–that registers a formal, tight-voiced complaint that he’s giving up how it used to be done.

It was hot that summer, hot the way summer always was in his childhood memories, and the sun spilled through the trees and left dappled shadows all across the ground. It’s what he remembers, and sometimes he thinks, perhaps, that he stepped back in time somehow and that’s why things played out the way they did.

He was tall and lithe, skin pale and hair dark, and when he glanced up at Steve, Steve had never fallen quite so hard.

He was drinking tea under the willow trees, a book supported in his lap, and he quirked an eyebrow at Steve full of amused curiosity, and Steve tried not to tumble on his tongue. He ducked his head down, and Steve went on his way because he was meant to be at the beach life-guarding already.

Steve passed him near every day for two weeks, and he was always sipping tea and reading. Steve always drank the sight of him in, and Steve tried to be discrete about it, he did, but he’d always glance up at Steve and a smile would quirk his lips and Steve would need to hurry on his way; so instead of watching him Steve would remember him the rest of the afternoon, draw sketches at night in the corners of papers for college, and wonder what his name was.

“Do you ever intend to ever say hello?” he said one afternoon, voice lazy in the high heat, and Steve blushed scarlet to the roots of his hair.

“Hello,” Steve said and stopped. “You wanna get sodas?” he asked and then nearly kicked himself.

“I might consider it,” he said, and he smiled, cat-wide and amused, “but you’ll have to buy.”

“Okay,” Steve said and stopped again.

“Will you ask my name?”

“I’m Steve,” Steve said, “what’s yours?” and Steve offered a hand to help him stand. His hand was smooth, long-fingered and graceful like Steve’s never were without a pencil, and Steve tried not to watch how the muscles in his arm flowed beneath the skin as he pulled himself up.

“Loki,” Loki said, and he smiled, eyes sparkling mischievous, and Steve thought he might do anything for that smile.

Bless, they say. He’ll grow out of it.

It’s harmless anyway, just a saucer of milk and heel of bread.

He hears them, but it doesn’t matter.

Steve, don’t you think you’re getting a little old for that?

You spoil him, Martha.

He sets his jaw a little. It’s not a matter of age–he’s eight, and maybe eight isn’t so old, but it doesn’t mean he’s wrong. He knows he’s not.

Don’t mind. He’s a sweet lad, just a bit of an odd duck. Likes his fancy.

It’s not right, it’s not. What’s the Church gonna think?

Steve’s near fifteen and he doesn’t ignore it now. He twists the bit of green-blue cloth around his fingers, habit he’s done since six that has left the fabric no more worn. It looks as new as when he first received it; even the frayed edges the same. There’s a gilt and gold embroidered snowflake at one end, and he rubs his thumb over it.

I’m leaving, he tells his mother, late in the night. There’s not much a fifteen year old can save, but he’s saved what he’s got, earned it as much as any.

She frowns at him, but she’s seen it coming for as long as him.

Take care. Don’t eat or drink from their tables, don’t lie, and remember–a promise is a promise only when thrice spoke, she says, and she kisses his forehead.

Steve the sidhe near purrs in the dark of the wood, eyes glimmering the blue-green of a frozen lake, and even in the night Steve can see where the ribbon belongs, the torn edge of cloak that matches the cloth he has tucked in his pocket.

It’s not false worship, Steve thinks, if you know it to be truth. There’s a difference between faith and knowledge.

It catches him off-guard.

Not because it is unexpected; oh, no, not that. Common enough on Asgard, after all.

Only… it feels as if it has barely been any time at all. He examines himself in the mirror.

Silver is, he supposes, better than grey (even if the difference between them is oftentimes a matter of semantics).

(And if it feels as if it has been no time, it simultaneously feels as if he’s lived lifetimes, can point at a trail and chain of events that came and went and were lived, and that is equally satisfying, like good wine (which they’ve had much of, or he has, at any rate) and better food (which, yes, they’ve both had, if only because Steve takes so much joy in indulging his whims) on a long summer’s evening (near fifteen, in fact).)

“Loki?” Steve calls from down the hall. “You ready?”

“Yes,” he says absently, smoothing his hair back and leaving the bathroom.

Gold, he thinks, is treated as a birthright by those who have it, flashy and ostentatious.

Silver is earned, marker of a hundred thousands small lifetimes to make up a whole.

He smiles and Steve smiles in return without knowing what he smiles for, a reassuring touch to the small of his back as they walk out the door.

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felicitygs

April 2019

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14	15	16	17	18	19	20
21	22	23	24	25	26	27
28	29	30

Syndicate

Page Summary

Fic Recs - Gen Avengers Bonanza
Prompt Fill - Blackbird Dreaming - Incomplete (part 2/??)
Prompt Fill - Blackbird Dreaming - Incomplete tbc?????? who knows
some loki/steve rogers winter prompts
Tangerines are Sweet Enough - 4.2k, Loki/Steve Rogers
Meet Ugly #1 - A Horrible Blind Date
Happy Steve Bingo - Uniforms
Happy Steve Bingo - Cooking
Happy Steve Bingo - Museum
Happy Steve Bingo - Hitchhiking
Happy Steve Bingo - Deciduous
Happy Steve Bingo - Meet the Parents
alphabet challenge - u
30 Days - Diamond
30 Days - Summer
30 Days - Knowledge
30 Days - Silver
30 Days - Formal (part 2)
30 Days - Formal (part 1)

Style Credit

Style: Buttercup Summer Night for Hibiscus by branchandroot
Resources: OpenClipart

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fel dreams

yea the one from tumblr et all

Entries tagged with character: steve rogers

Fic Recs - Gen Avengers Bonanza

Prompt Fill - Blackbird Dreaming - Incomplete (part 2/??)

Prompt Fill - Blackbird Dreaming - Incomplete tbc?????? who knows

some loki/steve rogers winter prompts

Tangerines are Sweet Enough - 4.2k, Loki/Steve Rogers

Meet Ugly #1 - A Horrible Blind Date

Happy Steve Bingo - Uniforms

Happy Steve Bingo - Cooking

Happy Steve Bingo - Museum

Happy Steve Bingo - Hitchhiking

Happy Steve Bingo - Deciduous

Happy Steve Bingo - Meet the Parents

alphabet challenge - u

30 Days - Diamond

30 Days - Summer

30 Days - Knowledge

30 Days - Silver

30 Days - Formal (part 2)

30 Days - Formal (part 1)