MYSTERIO

And without another thought, she reached over and put her hand on his shoulder–holding him by the side of his neck. Her thumb ghosting over the pressure point there. “If you continue to complain, I will knock you out and strap you into the back seat.” This car had child locks, he wouldn’t be able to leave. The threat very alive in her eyes before she moved her hand back to the wheel, “We may stop at the next one if you behave.” 

HERE inside a car, there’s nowhere to run when Jihu reaches over to place her hand on his shoulder, and they’ve been through this enough times for it to become routine — Quentin freezes, mutters a half-hearted apology he definitely doesn’t mean, and shuts up for a whopping ten minutes before they run the whole thing over again from the top.

—– At least the rain provided some sort of distraction from the mind-numbing monotony of a road trip. He just wishes he had a laptop or holopad to fiddle with while they drove.

@mvsteriio​ 

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲          𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡          𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭          𝐭𝐨          𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞          𝐭𝐡𝐞          𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝          .          brilliant  minds  always  gravitate  towards  one  another     ,     and  she  has  to  admit  she’s  found  his  binary  augmented  retro  -  framing  to  be  quite  amazing     .     the  geneticist  moves  past  the  crowd     ,     her  mind  set  on  meeting  the  man  behind  stark’s  presentation     .     at  first  glance  he  doesn’t  look  too  thrilled     ,     as  if  there’s  something  weighing  on  his  mind     .     however     ,     she  cuts  in  and  extends  an  arm  out  and  a  friendly  smile     .     ❝     mr  .  beck  ?  i’m  sorry  to  interrupt  but  i  heard  you  were  the  mastermind  behind  …..  ❞  she  really  doesn’t  want  to  say  b. a. r. f.     ,     ❝     the  augmented  reality  invention     .     i’m  doctor  li     ,     i  work  with  doctor  helen  cho     .     not  an  engineer  and  all  that  but  i’d  love  to  pick  your  brain  if  you  ever  have  the  time     ?   ❞

THIS was the last place he wanted to be. How anybody expected him to smile, mingle and socialize like nothing had happened was beyond him. And no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about it — that moment replaying in his mind over and over again in a never-ending loop.

B.A.R.F.

Not only did Tony Stark take credit for his work, he went ahead and named it… B.A.R.F.

All that work, all those late nights spent tinkering away in his lab, reduced to a punchline that even a child could come up with.

Quentin barely registers his name being called over the rush of blood in his ears. It felt like he was being pinned to the seafloor by every fucking thing in the world, but all the same, he forces himself to soften the grip he has around the stem of his glass.

No point in making a scene when the guest of honor wasn’t here to see it.

“ The pleasure’s all mine, doctor. ” He accepts the extended hand, mouth curling into a wry, self-deprecating sort of smirk at the split-second pause. Commiseration? No, he preferred to think of it as pity.

Say it. Just fucking say it.

“ Well, I can’t take all the credit, but if you had any questions about the system, I’d be happy to answer them. ” His voice remains remarkably steady even when he catches Janice’s eye from across the room. She had been the first to catch up with him after the presentation, speaking in hushed, worried tones like she was afraid he’d do something stupid. But he doesn’t let his gaze linger long, instead shifting his attention back to the woman before him.

MUSE PLAYLIST

post 3-5 songs that remind you of your muse rules: repost, don’t reblog!

CRAZY = GENIUS by Panic! at the Disco

(Hey! Hey!) If crazy equals genius Then I'm a fucking arsonist (Hey!) I'm a rocket scientist (Hey! Hey!) (Hey! Hey!) If crazy equals genius...

OH NO! by Marina

I know exactly what I want and who I wanna be I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy Oh! Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no, oh!

BANG BANG by Green Day

I wanna be a celebrity martyr The leading man in my own private drama Hoorah, bang, bang, hoorah, bang, bang, the hero of the hour Daddy's little psycho and mommy's little soldier

THE MAN by The Killers

I know the score like the back of my hand Them other boys, I don't give a damn They kiss on the ring, I carry the crown Nothing can break, nothing can break me down

HOLOGRAM (SMOKE AND MIRRORS) by Sia

Now the power's out and you are thin air What an illusion, I coulda sworn that you were there Smoke and mirrors, you are just a hollow man Hologram

HE hadn’t originally planned on having Peter join him in his little crusade, but the Quentin back then didn’t yet know just how useful your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man could be. He didn’t just want to destroy cities and play hero — that was fucking trite, the equivalent of a five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum and smashing up his toys in the sandbox. No, he had a vision, but said vision never involved a web-slinging vigilante from Queens.

Funny how things change.

“ Yeah, well, that’s all very John Wayne of you, Peter, but the last thing we need is you passing out in the middle of a mission. ” He shoots Peter a chastising look, though it quickly melts away into something resembling concern as he fishes a candy bar out of his pocket, holding it out for the other to take.

“ NOW why would I do that? ” His eyes widen, head tilted a little to the side in a picture of bewilderment and deep, heartfelt concern.

The question had, of course, crossed his mind many times before. Was he really going to kill Peter for something he had no control over? And the answer was always painfully simple. He was a loose end, and loose ends needed to be eradicated. Quentin couldn’t risk his whole plan unraveling just because of some misplaced sense of morality.

But… perhaps he could figure out another way to deal with the issue; and if Peter didn’t buy it, there was nothing stopping him from putting a bullet in his head anyway.

“ I… don’t think you want to know the answer to that. ” His words are soft — remorseful, almost — though he keeps his eyes trained on the other. To look away would mean admitting she was right, and if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it’s being proven wrong.

Careful, Beck. Don’t forget what we’re here to do. We can’t afford any slip-ups.

Tentatively, he takes a step towards her, closing the distance between them. One hand comes up as if to brush against her face, but freezes mere millimeters away, a microscopic tremble in his fingers the only sign of hesitation. And then, his hand finally comes to rest fully over the soft curve of her jaw.

WHAT Sharon says earns her one of Quentin’s signature looks — withering and purposefully deadpan, as if the question wasn’t even worthy of a response — though its intended impact is somewhat lessened by the fact that he was currently three drinks into the evening. Not even someone like Quentin Beck could muster the doom and gloom to stay upset after a few Tequila Sunrises.

“ You flatter yourself, Miss Carter. I have these —– ” He picks up a pink paper umbrella between his thumb and forefinger, gives it a twirl. “ Cute, little things to keep me company. I’m building a collection, you see. Tiny umbrellas. Very novel. ”

Then, carelessly, he flicks the umbrella back onto the tabletop; stealing a surreptitious glance at Sharon out of the corner of his eye.

“ COULDN’T if I wanted to, kid. ” The words are wry, nonchalant, but hissed through clenched teeth; and the smirk he flashes Peter suddenly contorts into a grimace when he feels a sharp stab of pain pierce through his side. He’s bleeding — has been bleeding for a while now — fingers growing slick with blood as he keeps one hand clamped tightly over the wound.

Avery nods in agreement, allowing him to guide her through the crowd, trying her best to remain calm all the while. 

She’s slightly less anxious once they’re alone in the hallway, fairly well removed from the situation, though she’s still struggling to catch her breath. She nods in understanding, a single tear slipping down her cheek as Quentin cups her face in his hands. She does as he instructs her to, taking deep breaths as she gazes into his deep blue eyes. 

She slowly begins to calm, though she’s still quite shaken. She’s silent for a moment as she considers whether or not they should indeed leave the populated area for somewhere slightly less busy. She doesn’t want to ruin their night out, but, she certainly would feel more at ease if they went somewhere a little quieter. Finally, she nods. “Could… could we go somewhere else…? Please…”

“ OF course we can, Avery. Whatever you need. ” A faint smile graces his lips, and he wipes away the tear on her face with the pad of his thumb. “ I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. ”

Quentin pulls her into another hug, giving her one last squeeze before he presses a kiss to her temple. After that, he loops an arm around her, and moving with intent, steers them both towards the connecting lift lobby. They had driven here, parked in the basement parking lot. Quentin figured that the best thing they could do right now was to head back home; and if the HYDRA agent Avery thought she saw happened to be more than a figment of her imagination, he’d be better able to deal with it on familiar ground.

It doesn’t take long for the elevator to arrive after he presses the button, and once the doors slide shut behind them, even the muted, faraway roar of people is reduced to silence. He turns to Avery again when the elevator begins its descent, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face.

S.P.O.T. Drone beeped at the contact before playing a brief, six-note, chiptune ditty at the man it couldn’t acknowledge wasn’t its master.  As if it couldn’t get more embarrassing, it barked at the man when he pulled away. 

Irritation was no doubt clear on Quentin’s face with the way his eyes darted away and the creases on his face deepened and his jaw clenched.

“Yeah well,” Quentin groused, but wasn’t particularly bothered by the assessment.  At least his alter agreed that animals were awful.  “It was either let her play with the weaponized drones or build her a drone that didn’t have weapons.  Lesser of two evils.  It’s dumb, I know.”

He waved a hand, his mouth scrunched, nose wrinkled.  

The question gave him pause now–Quentin was always a very delicate mixture of wanting to show off and wanting his secrets to stay secret.  His alternate was prying close to things he didn’t want to reveal and his eyes narrowed, body bristled just the barest bit.  

His head cocked back as if taking this as a silent challenge, before his attention was captured by the Geiger counter.  His lips press together, but he remains silent as it does its thing. 

“I have a few.”  The statement is short, and he crosses his arms, a subconscious movement to protect the command console from his alternate self, even if its already hidden by his sleeves.  He was suddenly aware that he had already given the other the number he had in his careless rambling.  But Quentin didn’t seem to pick up on that little fact.

He was on the verge of calling quits on this little teamup and his feet scooted closer together, body straightening as he watched the other’s movements like a hawk.

“ A few? Like, are they here right now? ”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, arms uncrossing from his chest to let his hands rest against his hips instead. Why did he — the other him — have to be so difficult? Maybe Quentin still had some things he wanted to keep a secret, and really, he got where he was coming from. When you’re thrown headlong into the unknown, it’s important to hold onto whatever leverage you had, but didn’t it go against the entire principle of working together?

“ Okay. Whatever. Keep your secrets. I just don’t know how you expect me to help you if you’re not even going to tell me how you got here and why you came in the first place. ” Feeling his voice start to rise, he pauses to take a steadying breath. As much as he wanted to, there was no point in yelling; the last thing he needed was another noise complaint from his neighbors. Instead, he just shoots Quentin a withering look, and carelessly tosses the Geiger counter on the couch where it bounces off the cushions to tumble to the floor. He doesn’t pick it up.

“ At least you’re not radioactive. ”

The observation is tinged with dry humor, and is the only thing Quentin says before he flops onto couch with a frustrated huff. He has the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers now, as if it would help him find some sense in this whole doppelgänger situation he’d suddenly found himself in.