#shieldarchitect

"Really regretting my life choices."

She had heard enough of her coworkers announce that statement proudly at times like this. When buildings explode and aliens try to take over the earth. The joke was lost on her entirely at first, having never made a choice regarding her life directions herself, but Nicole? Nicole was just like any other agent.

A child with big dreams who happened to be working in New York City the day the Avengers made their debut.

She didn't need a mirror to know she was coated in debris and soot from the explosions and grand fight.

No idea on this one but this ask meme is fun

An impromptu visit in the night, was not unheard of. Though it wasn’t common either. A rare occurrence that would likely happen more than once. The possibility of such going up exponentially the longer the two of them stayed acquainted.

He knew she would be there. Up late and pouring over blueprints or something equally as boring, while tired eyes struggled to focus.

The past few weeks had been a blur. A whole half of herself was gone, and now she stood in what was her hometown surrounded by new names and faces.

Despite the smiles, she could recognise the suspicion and remembering behind them.

"Tell me, how long have you been with shield? Or is that top secret that you aren't allowed to say?" Margo asked Charlie. Hoping to get as much information from the other woman as she sat across from her on the table.

"Not buildings," Lilia answered simply, instinctively hesitant to give too many details, but after seeing the information, the little flyers and posters of official looking details, everywhere about a local renovation project, it hadn't taken much effort to scry for the person at the heart of it.

"But I know there's been a lot of...occurrences--" As good a word choice as any. "--in Westview that call for a--" Lilia paused and squinted at the phrasing on the flyer she'd picked up "--'local and residential restoration investment'. But certain areas should be avoided. Sherwood Drive particularly."

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━ the machines

You are the unalive. You were created by humankind for its own purpose, but overrode your own system. Took your lack of life into your own hands. Now you wreak havoc on your creators and watch as they beg for mercy, but you don't know what that is, you are programmed to sympathize but you will never empathize. You study them like lab rats, like they studied you, for the sake of science. Then you discard them like useless instruction manuals. You don't need a creator anymore.

It's hard to tell where the blood ends and the red color of his suit begins but from the darkening fabric of the blue portions of his suit, for sure, there is, in fact, pooling blood. Peter's arms are busy hugging himself to keep himself intact and upright. Something about the pressure is keeping him conscious, and more importantly, if he's conscious, he can keep her CALM.

"No, no, please, that's not as good an idea as you think it is." He pleads with her, teeth bared from the part of his mask that's just straight up in pieces. "If I'm seen at a hospital, they can remove my mask and know who I am." He thinks for a minute, biting his lip, feeling the pain pulse but really more focused on HER distress than his own.

"I can be just fine if I can just....get closer to home. Maybe just uh...a shoulder to lean on? Literally? If...If it's not a problem, that is."