#moonbeammuses

“Is… is that really you in there, Billy?”

It didn’t make any sense. How was he here, now? Was this really just Billy? And why did he look like that? The look on his face was desperate, aching… and Steve didn’t understand. Billy stepped forward; once, twice, and Steve matched it, backing up right up until he’d stumbled back against a wall.

Billy moved, and Steve sucked in a sharp breath as he was pinned, fear flashing through him as he remembered Dischord’s painful touch. It didn’t hurt, this time. It was firm, it was forceful, but it wasn't painful. This was his Billy. Though whether or not he was alone, he wasn't sure. Steve would have been more afraid, if not for the intense desperation he saw in those seaside eyes.

He couldn't look away, caught by those eyes far more than the hands on him. Billy pressed close, eyes dropping to Steve’s mouth, and the brunet barely had time for a breath before- “Bill-? Mmm!” -Cupid’s bow lips, softer than they had any right to be pressed against his own, and Steve felt a rush go through him from head-to-toe.

Steve didn’t understand. Things with Billy had never been much better than rocky, even at their best. He’d felt the beginnings of friendship before, when he was helping care for him. He’d missed one call, but it had been the one that mattered most, and now Dischord was… still there, so, shouldn’t he hate him? He should be yelling or hitting him or something, not…

Not moving his lips over Steve's, drawing him into the most electrifying first kiss he’d ever had. Billy’s tongue slipped in the moment there was opportunity, and Steve found himself caught and lead into an even deeper, more passionate kiss.

It felt incredible. Like seeing fireworks for the first time, or the first press inside of a new partner. At some point, his hands ended up around Billy’s shoulders, his fingers in blond curls; his own tongue and lips matching Billy’s unexpected fervor.

He shouldn’t want this. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear his father’s bigotry, see his mother’s disgust… but it’s so low on his list of priorities at the moment, he can’t bring himself to freak out. What was happening with Billy? Where was Dischord? How the fuck did he know just how to make his knees so weak? … and...

... Why was he kissing him?

In honor of SPOTIFY WRAPPED, send me a number 1-100 and I’ll write you a starter based on the song. spotify wrapped - 66 forrrrr mona and martin?

I would′ve stayed at home / 'Cause I was doing better alone / But when you said hello / I knew that was the end of it all / I should′ve stayed at home / 'Cause now there ain′t no letting you go / Am I falling in love with the one that could break my heart?

“…I should have stayed.” Her voice was quieter than usual. More somber. The others were asleep, but Martin was awake. Sat next to her—a bit of space between them, because Mona couldn’t bring herself to curl up against him like she normally would—keeping watch.

Mona…Mona couldn’t sleep. Not for a few days, now. Every time she tried, her mind just spun in circles. Around and around, the same thought over and over again, finally spoken aloud:

“I should have stayed at Blackwing.”

Mr. Riggins had been right about that. She’d been so surprised to see him, the other day, after wandering off on her own. Wasn’t sure how exactly he’d found her, how he knew she was travelling with the Rowdy 3. But he had, and he did, and he’d said he only wanted to talk. There were no scary men with guns with him, so she didn’t run or turn into a canon or an airplane or a lion. She’d stayed and listened.

He’d made a lot of good points, much to her dismay. Mona was dangerous. People around Mona got hurt. Blackwing was looking for Mona, and the others would be in danger, if she stayed with them. If soldiers with big guns came to take her back, the boys would fight back. They would get hurt. They might get killed.

Her fault, all her fault, always her fault.

Martin, Cross, Gripps, and Vogel had all been furious when they’d found the two of them, tears in Mona’s eyes. She didn’t know what happened to Mr. Riggins—she’d let Vogel usher her back to the van, silent and upset and hugging herself tightly. She’d turned into the stress toy as soon as they made it there and hadn’t turned back for days. Had only been human again for a couple hours, now. The entire time spent quiet and thinking hard.

From the moment they’d met, from the moment Martin said ‘hello’, that’d been the end of it all, for her. Martin was hers. The others were, too, but it was different with them. She wasn’t in love with them—or, at least, falling in love. Because, after extensive conversations with Amanda, Mona was fairly certain that’s what this was.

She was falling in love with Martin, and if she stayed with him and the other Rowdys, they would all get hurt. Because of her. Martin would get hurt, and it would be all her fault.

She didn’t think her heart could take that.

Send me “Where she stops...” for a starter using the whump wheel 

Ally couldn't remember what happened earlier that morning. She knew she went for her morning flight per usual. She remembered the vague sounds of someone yelling. She remembered the cool air rushing through her hair as she dove down to help. And then...nothing. She didn't remember flying back to the Tower. She walked through the living room, to the elevator, and clicked the floor to Tony's lab.

It was an odd sensation, moving and doing and walking with no real control over her own body. It was like she was in the backseat of a car watching Happy drive. She made it into Tony's lab, and, of course, he was sitting there. Get an arc reactor. Bring it to me.

"Hey, Tony," she said, her usual sing-song voice ringing flat. "What are you working on?" Distract anyone in your way. Only engage in combat if you have to.

HE was-

“James!” Arioch cried out the name as he appeared int he foyer and fell, knees hitting the floor. Red and gold spilled from his chest, his neck.

He would see him. Would see those eyes again if it was in fact the last thing he did.

“James.”

Dizzy, that was the word for the sensation he felt. The floor was perfectly level, he knew, yet it may as well have been the waves of a storming sea for how it moved under his hands and knees, trying to take him to the ground.

Ah. There he was.

Stained hands reached, pulled Jim into an embrace, heedless of the blood. “Had to- Had to see you-” He leaned back enough to look up at those eyes he so loved. Of course they were torn with worry. But Arioch smiled at the sight of him all the same.

It was past 3 am and Jim was still working, his bare feet up on the coffee table and his laptop in his lap, tapping as if forgetting that sleep was a thing and so far past the point of being tired that he couldn't sleep anymore. He buried himself in work because he had the most horrible feeling all day and he didn't want to think about it or sleep because lately, his dreams had him wake up screaming and damp with sweat. And he hated it. He hated that now, not even in his sleep he could not see him anymore, at least not in any pleasant way.

When he heard his name, his head snapped to that direction and was on his feet before he could register what was happening, the laptop dropping to the floor and he almost ran to him, dropping to his knees as he caught the angel in his fall. "No, no, no, no..." he kept mumbling as he cupped his head in his hands, their bodies pressed together and Jim not caring for the blood soaking into his white shirt and suit pants and he weaped a pained moan when Arioch's arms embraced him and clung to him, his nails digging into the angel's clothes with a desperation that he had never felt before but gave him the space to see him if Arioch needed it.

@moonbeammuses​ sent: 😘 - for kisses from Mom ♡

     The great thing, he’s realizing, about robots, is that they’re not able to tell how gross he is. She can’t smell the vomit lingering in his mouth and clinging to his sweat-drenched clothes. She can’t feel the cool beady sweat on his forehead, or if she can, she pays it no mind. It’s flattering, almost. Sure, Diego can fetch him a bucket or provide the occasional shoulder to lean on for Klaus to shuffle his way to the bathroom, but Grace always has always made Klaus feel like a person, which is charmingly ironic, if he thinks about it for too long. 

     He’s shivering so goddamn hard it HURTS, like if he listens closely he might hear his bones wail in protest against the strain from his muscles. One day at a time, he repeats to himself with teeth-gritting determination. You’re okay, Klaus. You’re okay. You’re okay.

     The weight of his mother’s form on the edge of the bed rouses him from the dopesick stupor and he inhales a quick breath past cracked lips as a pair of arms wrap themselves around him and— and she kisses his forehead just like she used to. It’s just like he remembered, soft and sweet. It feels...pure. This is what it must feel like, he thinks to himself, to be cleansed of sin. No need for holy water or bibles in the hallowed sacrament of a mother’s love.

     Something breaks in him as she pulls away; flood of catharsis that leaves him sobbing in her arms. When was the last time he was blessed with such unconditional kindness? When was the last time anyone had touched him with such unbearable tenderness? He can’t remember. 

Quiet held in the air between them at her words. Roderick’s dark eyes looked between Miriam’s. She was serious. He could see it in the way her body had tensed as he stopped her from stripping, the way her sapphire eyes flashed, full of unspoken things. If she left here with that look in her eye, he didn’t want to think of what might follow.

His grasp on her wrist loosened, it’s firmness fading as he considered her. He didn’t know what had led to this for her. He had known something was up when her reaction to seeing his scar-littered body was so... A lovely woman like her? There was no way she would look at him the way she’d been looking without a reason. So when she’d begun to strip before him, he’d moved without a thought to stop her.

Erik: You were flirting with Joseph.

Alastor: So what? He's my boyfriend.

Erik: You asked him if he was single.