ARIESThe Angel. Sometimes, when you look at him, he bites his lip the way he does when he’s concentrating real hard, and your whole heart just sighs. And he just makes you feel, it. Like when he comes home from the studio with tired eyes and a big fat check, he grabs you so tight, and he tells you you’re fucking beautiful, that you’re his girl and that he’s gonna take care of you. Everything else fades away, and the only thing left is his lips on your neck and the sound of crashing waves from the balcony.
TAURUSThe Vampire. You never see him when it’s light out, but somehow his Instagram story is always filled with juicy ass brunches. Tatted to hell and back, spends his evenings making Soundcloud beats and he has those glazed eyes making you wonder if he’s ever completely sober. You never knew he felt that way about you. Until tonight. Maybe you’ve never noticed it, or maybe he’s just good. Doesn’t matter now, because all you wanna do is kiss him from his abs to his neck, all the way up to where his tattoo peeks out from his shirt.
GEMINIThe House of Mirrors. The one that puts your heart in the dryer. Seems to have fast paced life full of people that adore him. His sneakers are a holy entity. His entire aura is clouded with the illusion of a constant hustle, but when you get close to him you realize he never actually does anything. Has this trick of kissing you instead of answering questions, but it doesn’t matter because after about a month you get tired of keeping up with his numerous different aesthetic alter egos and bail.
CANCERThe Firework. A surfer boy body with sun touched curls keeps staring at you from across the bar. Suddenly your face isn’t just red from working all night. He asks you when you get off, your boss leans over and says “She gets off right now.” After pretending to be offended for about three seconds you quickly take off your apron and enter that magical bubble. His voice is like caramel, his eyes look like they swallowed an entire ocean, you stare at him as his lips keep moving. The sparkle fades, melancholy sets in, and you think to yourself what a waste of a vessel for a man who wants you to be his second mother.
LEOThe Nice Guy. Has told everyone but you that he’s into you. That easy confidence he oozes draws you in, but when you finally confront him about liking you he suddenly shrinks in size. Brings you flowers just because. Tries to convince everyone and himself that he is driven by logic, but actually he’s just scared shitless of irrational emotions so he tries to ignore them. Usually ends up with a full blown meltdown you have to diffuse by explaining his feelings to him. He’s a sweetheart though with good intentions, even though his emotional intelligence will never pass that of a high school boy.
VIRGOThe Puppy Love. The one who’s had a crush on you since forever, the one who has always been around. You kissed once in the 6th grade, and now you’re wondering what he’s learned these last few years. He’s grown but there is still that aura of innocence around him. And then he starts dating one of your best friends, makes parties uncomfortable for about a year until he breaks up with her, gets mad at you for dancing with another guy and then drunkenly recites a poem about wanting to get in your panties on Easter Sunday. God bless.
LIBRA The Tender Hearted. Takes you out for sushi on your first date. Shyly asks if he can hold your hand, waits until you are at your front door to kiss you. And he kisses so softly. Doesn’t wanna come in because he “doesn’t wanna rush things”. Texts you memes all day the morning after, your heart melts because he’s such a dork. The next night you go to the movie theatre, he plays with your fingers and lets you steal his popcorn. And you realize you’re not really watching the movie, but focusing on trying to slow down your heartbeat. That night he’s so gentle, too gentle. And after you’re not sure how you feel about him anymore. A week later he’s only texted you once and you answered a day later, and then you hear he’s talking to some girl in his history class and didn’t think to break it off because he thought it was implied. Sure was bro.
SCORPIOThe Forbidden Fruit. The one who shall not be named, the one you keep a ten meter distance of every time you are in the same place. Keeps his molly in a PEZ dispenser. Smells too damn fucking good. And that’s how you knew you were in trouble. You turn around and he’s behind you, looking at you like that. He doesn’t need anything more than a ‘hi’. You remind yourself you don’t wanna be one of his girls while his husky voice asks you what you’ve been up to. The party is so loud and he’s too close. It happens. It’s as good as you imagined it to be, but afterwards you pretend not to want him. Because him not wanting you would be too painful.
SAGITTARIUSThe Young Daddy. The one who always tells you your man’s not good enough for you. Picks you up in three different cars in one week. All mommy and daddys of course. Hypnotizing brown puppy eyes. And that vein on his bicep after boxing practice. Driving through the hills, the view of the city from here is breathtaking. You feel so strange, like this isn’t reality, the leather seat of his Audi is so warm. Then you look at him, and he is so warm. And suddenly, you know there is nothing you can do to stop this.
CAPRICORNThe Burnout. Crazy talented but no ambition. Justifies his bad habits with some fake deep motto, but in reality is just scared of his own potential. Makes you feel calm, like you can be yourself and he won’t judge you. One night he asks you if you wanna try some weed, and now every time you hang out you seem to be high. His bedroom is a like a little cocoon. It’s 4 am, and you’re having a staring contest with his Pikachu poster and a pile of laundry his mum folded for him, and in that moment you realize, you need get the fuck out of there.
AQUARIUSThe Stranger. He’s the one, that when you see him, your entire being just screams internally. He’s not exactly shy, more reserved. To quote Alyssa from The End of the Fucking World, “Sometimes I look at him and I think, are you a bit dead?” Always so polite, from the old lady at the coffee shop to the little girl who ran him down as he was walking you home. His face is beaming, but his eyes are always a bit empty. Like you can’t see anything behind them. You find it hard to care because his face is so gorgeous, so you keep making him laugh just to see them sparkle for a moment.
PISCESThe Hot Mess. Can’t help the way you feel when he looks at you. He knows you’re working tonight so he comes and sits in the corner booth with his friends. And just looks at you. So evanescent, just floats in and out of your life. Blames his attitude on his ex girlfriend. And yet you can’t help it when he calls at 2 am. You come sit in his lap while a party rages on behind the closed door, and tell him, “No, but someday.” He takes his hands of your thighs and softly places them around your hips, “Why not today?” his breath is hot on your neck, and the next few moments flash before your eyes. “Because I want you to remember it.”
It’s Eliot who notices it first, a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. He’s used to noticing the people around him. He’s used to keeping count of every person in his eyeline, no matter how many people are in the room.
And this blonde woman should not be there. She should not be there when he has to force his way into a safe, but there she is. All in black, legs crossed on the desk beside him, ponytail swishing. “God.” She rolls her eyes. “A blowtorch. How crude.”
He glances over to her, but like a mirage, once he’s focused, she’s gone.
Two days later, Eliot’s about to deck a security guard when another woman shows up. Brunette hair and a lovely accent. “She’s gay,” the woman says. “Seduction won’t work no matter how hard you try, so you’ll have to find a different thing you both have in common.”
Eliot looks down and sees the tiny pin on her blouse. A pink ribbon.
“There you go,” the woman says. All he has to do is tell her a story about a sick little sister, and he has her eating out of the palm of his hand. Then the woman is gone.
And then he shifts. It’s a quick blink. One moment he’s in standing on a street corner, and then next he’s in a chokehold. Instinct kicks in. He throws back an elbow and it meets flesh. One hit, two hit, three hits later, and there are two bodies on the floor.
Eliot shifts. In the center of the circle, panting heavily, stands a tall black man. “What the hell–”
But then Eliot is gone again.
“It’s a sophisticated scheme,” the man with the bottle of Jack tells him. Eliot has already knocked two men two the ground, but there are more coming, and the fight isn’t over yet.
“You get someone’s credit information and start opening credit cards in their name. Then, you catfish some poor idiot and say you’re adding them to your credit card account. You get the idiot to buy you things for you on your card. Everything’s good until the credit card company gets wind of the fraud and shuts everything down, but by then you’ve cleaned everything up and moved on to greener pastures.”
“Dude,” Eliot growls, “I’m just here to get a necklace back.”
The man shrugs. “Was it insured?”
Eliot finishes slamming a goon’s head into the nearest table. “What does that matter?”
The man shrugs, and then he’s gone.
Parker doesn’t even really bat an eye. She kinda actually likes her new friends. Sure, the smelly guy with the weird hair is a bit odd, but he’s helpful in his own way. He can see the big pieces when she’s too distracted with the shiny things. He’s the one who figures out a fence is going to betray her long before she would have.
Then there’s the one who calls her “girl” all the time. He drags the word out too, like it’s prettier than one of the glittery diamonds she nicks. She likes him. She likes how he smiles at her, how he lingers in her presence a little longer even after he’s helped her figure out the code for a 15 digit lock.
The punchy guy, well, he took a little more time to warm up to. She’s not really a fan of fist fights. She’d rather hide. But when a security guard finds her and she can see the guy pulling his hair back into a ponytail, she smiles a little.
“Go for the eyes,” he tells her, holding up two bent fingers and pushing them forward in the air. She does, and it’s kind of satisfying.
“Oh dear,” the lady says to her every time she shows up. “No no no you mustn’t…” and then she goes on to tell Parker exactly how she’s not talking right. Parker kind of appreciates that. She’s not so great with the words thing. People are hard. Locks are easy.
Except these four people. They haven’t been hard. They’ve been like locks with easy combinations. Parker feels like she kind of knows them. Like the locks she picks again and again. She knows how all their inner workings are.
And that’s really nice.
Okay so the blonde is gorgeous. The blonde is gorgeous and the British lady is really good at talking her way out of problems. Hardison isn’t really sure what the point is with the dude who shows up to yammer on and on about cons and how Hardison might get himself caught if he does one thing or another. But even when he’s very clearly drunk, he’s still been helpful a few times.
So has the gun who is always hitting people. He’s gotten Hardison out of more than one scrape because Hardison has never done guns, will never do guns, and really really really doesn’t like being in the same room with people who want to hurt him.
And yeah, his knuckles really really hurt—his whole body hurts, actually— after the fighter helps him out of a few bad situations, but it’s better that than losing a pinkie. Or a toe.
So yeah, Hardison is okay with the people in his head.
Nate needs another fucking drink.
Sophie comes to see them all sort of like children. One is angry, one is hurting, one is lost, and one is alone. She’s the one who realizes they need to be brought together. She’s the one who realizes they are the solution to all of their problems. She is the one who sits beside a drunken Nate and helps him set out asprin and water for the morning. She is the one who sits quietly with a silent Parker as she picks lock after lock and studies countless blueprints.
She is the one who stands in an empty, threadbare apartment with Eliot when he cooks himself an extravagant dinner only he will eat.
She is the one who sees the late nights where Harrison binges on bad TV and orange soda.
She is the one who realizes that these people, whose pain she feels as if it is her own, all need each other.
Like she, when she’s tired of her fake names and her Rolodex of personalities, just needs them.
Living with her loneliness, her isolation, is like suffering under a terrible weight.
steve rogers i know and love is not the man who runs away from a fight and stays hiding as other people fix his fucking mess, marvel.
steve rogers i know and love would haul a beaten up tony on that flight, go back to the US, drop him by the medical and march straight into the Senate with his Please Fucking Try Me and See What Happens™ look. he’d stand there and take the blame for idiotic things he’d done, apologize sincerely, and then hed just slam the entire room of Old Assholes with facts that they wouldnt have a country to govern if it weren’t for the avengers, that sokovia was a fucking mess but so was Vietnam and Iraq and every other shitty thing that the government itself was to blame for, and then he’d finish with: “Go ahead and lock me up, it will be my utmost pleasure to see you kneeling in front of me begging for me to help defend the earth once a threat bigger than all of your tax frauds comes here to wipe us out.” and he just. walks away slowly and no one dares to fucking stop him.
Steve Rogers falsified enlistment forms just to get in the line of fire, Steve Rogers spent his life getting into fights when he knew what he was doing was the right thing no matter how strong the enemy was, and you cant fucking convince me that Steve Rogers would run away and hide from some pampered politicians and constructive debate when the alien threat lingered over all of us.
“That was actually one of our crew members who took that photo. [Condor and Centineo] were in the green room on set at the high school location, in the area where we put the actors. They actually were sleeping on the couch in that room like that, so we just stood over them and took that picture and it’s so friggin’ cute.” - TATBILB Director, Susan Johnson, on origins of the lock-screen photo x