#aesirdottir

the   goddess   was   lain   across   a   familiar   desk   in   a   familiar   study   within   the   sanctum   sanctorum,      head   dangling   off   the   edge   and   black   tendrils   of   hair   hanging   downwards   and   spilling   across   the   floor.      green   eyes   flash   with   amusement,      an   upside-down   GRIN   upon   pale   features   when   amora   finally   arrives.      

"      there   you   are,      my   beloved   enchantress..      "      she'd   murmur,      smile   growing   with   satisfaction   from   correct   intuition.      

for  a  woman  with  chaos  at  her  fingertips  and  the  wake  of  worlds  in  her  footsteps,     amora  has  a  surprising  gentleness  at  her  disposal.     something  jason’s  been  pleasantly  surprised  by.     the  pad  of  her  thumb  brushes  over  the  protrusion  of  wrist - bone  which  juts  rather  noticeably  thanks  to  the  angle  at  which  jason  holds  his  cigarette,     long  drag  interrupted  by  the  touch.     he  pulls  the  filter  away  from  his  lips  as  she  tosses  around  a  hum  behind  her  lips   --   the  sort  of  sound  where  he  knows  she  has  something  on  her  mind.

exhaustion  subsides  a  sliver,     smoke  exhaled  in  tight  coils  into  the  night  sky  as  lips  find  quiet  upward  curve  at  the  comfort  of  her  presence.

' you're hot when you're mad. ' #yolo five word sentence starters 

he   isn’t   angry   ,   per   say   ,   but   perhaps   this   is   the   closest   that   most   will   see   of   the   peaceful   empathic   healer   .   his   eyes   are   narrowed   at   the   woman   across   from   him   .   paul’s   lips   are   pursed   and   a   deep   huff   of   air   is   blown   through   his   nose   .   he   just   finds   it   hard   to   trust   after   everything   that   has   happened   .   his   first   priority   has   always   been   the   god   of   thunder   ,   loyal   to   the   crown   and   prince   in   every   way   he   is   .

her   words   do   strike   a   nerve   just   as   ,   he’s   sure   ,   she   intended   ,   but   the   asgardian’s   facial   expression   fades   back   into   a   calm   one   in   a   matter   of   seconds   .   ❝      do   not   play   games   with   me   .   i   am   far   too   tired   ,   ❞

christmas in national city, california strikes a discordant, copper note.  the sun is golden yellow  &  beats down from the sky to whisper between the palm fronds, bake the sidewalks,  &  bronze the bridge of sam’s nose.  board shorts, sunglasses,  &  bare ams are still aplenty among the city streets.  it’s as CHEERY as the fourth of july with warm smiles paired with the zinc tinge of sunscreen mingling with a the twinge of biting sweat.  

it’s completely at odds with the season, which flourishes just as freely.  santa claus wears a muscle shirt  ;  fake snow dusts every available surface.  jingling bells CLANG happily in her ears.  there are stockings dangling from the market tables, packages tucked into the corner of the storefronts, the molasses-thick waft of gingerbread pulling saliva from the back of her tongue.  

ruby hates it.  

national city lacks her friends.  it lacks the cool kiss of snowflakes. it doesn’t have the gusty slate skies  &  cozy fireplace weather that they left behind.  but sam is trying.   

“  rubes, check this out  ---  ”  sam calls, plucking up a bouquet of candy canes  &  a supergirl ornament for their as-yet-unpurchased tree.  she turns too fast, uncoordinated  &  seeking for her daughter in the crowd.  the clash that slams into her shoulder, chin, clammering her teeth together rings impact all the way down to the smash of broken glass that she hears too late.  “  oh, no,  ”  sam bends to pick up the shattered bauble  &  comes perilously close to hitting the other woman again.