this is not the best but it’s my first proper digital phan art!! and it’s transparent!!!!! (i want to do transparent art for so long) jfc my index finger hurts so much i used my touch pad for this i dont even have a mouse
Summary: Anna trolls the shit out of Elder Maxson while Deacon desperately tries to keep a straight face.
silently while Elder Arthur Maxson delivered his speech against the
evils of technological abominations, wondering what the great leader
would do if he knew his newest and brightest recruit was friends with
two ghouls, three synths, and one super mutant. He took a another
drag and risked a glance over at Anna. She stood at perfect military
attention, her face devoid of reaction to the fanatical ranting. Her
ability to keep a straight face was one of the many things he admired
about her. He’d seen too many missions fucked up and gone to shit
because someone couldn’t control their emotions.
dismissed the crew, leaving only the three of them. The Elder looked
to Anna, obviously expecting her to say something about his little
speech. She looked back at him with a perfectly neutral face. Deacon
swore her eyes reflected back at people as blank as his sunglasses.
After a long, completely silent pause, Maxson cleared his throat.
Brotherhood’s goal is an ambitious one, but necessary for the greater
good of humanity,” he said.
didn’t waver in the slightest. “Understood.”
Deacon lifted the
cigarette back up to his lips to cover up a grin threatening to break
out. He could already tell not getting a real response from her was
going to drive a man like Elder Arthur Maxson
up the fucking wall. The crazy bastard probably had a personal scribe
just to give him a round of applause every time he took a shit.
prompt; Skinny!StevexTony, sweater weather, Tony Trying to make Steve cocoa and somehow fucking it up because Tony cannot food
[A/N: So I put out a call for prompts the other day, and I’ve been slowly working on them. This is the first one I’ve managed to finish.]
Tony couldn’t stop watching Steve on the trip home. He tried not to; he tried to talk to Thor about tracking down the rogue Asgardian who’d set the trap, he tried to confer with Bruce about the biochemical analysis, he tried to discuss the necessary changes to field operations with Natasha.
But his eyes kept sliding back to Steve, curled on a seat at the very back of the quinjet. He’d changed into the emergency sweats and t-shirt they kept on the ‘jet for post-Hulk Bruce, but even those were laughably too large. De-serumed Steve wasn’t just small – Tony was small, or at least short – Steve was tiny. They were going to have to order clothes for him from the boys’ department.
Steve didn’t look back at Tony, not once during the whole three-hour flight. He didn’t look at any of the others, either. He held out his arm resignedly when Bruce asked for a blood sample; he grunted and muttered in response to questions; he just shrugged when anyone asked after his state of health.
Tony knew – knew, beyond all shadow of doubt – that Steve didn’t want anyone fussing over him, but it was hard not to worry. Tony had heard about how sickly and frail Steve had been as a kid, and seeing it now was really driving it home. A stiff wind would knock him over; he could catch a cold and die of pneumonia before they ever caught up with the villain who’d done it. And Christ, it was December, that joyous time of year when it seemed like everyone was sick anyway.
Tony felt a sudden spurt of sympathy for Barnes, who’d grown up with this version of Steve and had to endure dozens of actual brushes with death – not to mention Steve’s constant and wholly inadvisable state of “FIGHT ME” when it came to bullies and assholes, no matter if they were twice his size and outnumbered him ten-to-one.
Tony thought briefly about calling Barnes to ask for help, or at least advice, but he and Sam were off on a mission and pretty much everyone on the team was hoping they’d take advantage of the radio silence to work out their weirdly aggressive sexual tension (it had given Tony new appreciation for the team putting up with the way he and Steve had circled each other before finally getting together). So calling Barnes was out unless an actual immediate emergency cropped up.
❝ ya know, i had a teach kinda like you back in the day. alright guy and all, ya know, ACTUALLY GAVE A DAMN about kids’ and their education… didn’t have him long though, after i dropped out and all. ❞ yeah. the guy is a high school dropout. it’s not so much of a shame, more than it was a pity. but hey, you deal with the cards you’re dealt with.
cs fic: that swan girl (she’s got the devil in her)
My guess is that at this point, killians-dimples knows how much she means to me. Based on the amount of times I seek her wisdom, guidance, cheerleading, counseling, and all manner of bothersome things. She is so brilliant, so kind, so giving, and so deserving of all the love. I don’t even know how to thank her for her role in my life. So: Happy Birthday, lovely BK. Here’s some fic. <3
Summary: CS Daredevil AU in which there is much vigilanting and also - subsequently - first aid.
cs fic: that swan girl (she’s got the devil in her)
Her entire body hurts and something smells like salt.
Like fish and salt and Jesus breathing is sharp and Christ she aches everywhere but she has to move, move, has to get, to get-
“I might lie still, love, if I were you.”
Groan. She can feel the creaking noise leave her body, and even her eyes are hard to open, dim bars of light sneaking under her lids. “Where,” she licks her lip – blood, metallic and alkaline – it’s split, she knows, but it will heal – eventually. “Where the hell am I?”
She sees a bowl, scarlet water sloshing, sullied gauze, a torso in heather grey. Male, thirties. “Who the hell are you?”
“I believe,” a face appears above her, strong jaw, frantic hair, goddamn really blue eyes, “that’s my line.”
He holds out a black rag, which she registers belatedly as her mask.