Multi Fandom Multi Muse. @ofinkandalibis - Tumblr Blog

kool-cars

1963 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Roadster

ceoracer

1968 Mercury Cougar XR-7 GT-E

kool-cars

1962 Corvette Convertible

A chuckle escapes him, mostly because she wasn’t entirely wrong. “Even so,” he teases, a grin tugging at his lips, “it’s nice knowing I’ve still got it.”

Truthfully, a lot of the cockiness these days was more habit than confidence. Years ago, arrogance came easy. Now, sometimes it was just armor.

His expression softens as she talked about weekly dates, hearing each other’s voices at night, all the little things they used to do without thinking. He misses it.

“That sounds perfect,” he admits quietly. “Best way to end any day, hearing your voice.”

At her insistence that next time is her turn, his grin returns immediately. “You like keeping me on edge.” There is amusement in his tone, but something softer too. “Alright, fair. Next date is your pick.”

A glance in her direction. “But I reserve the right to be annoyingly curious the entire time.”

murkyhazed

@ofinkandalibis

brian was very heavy with the flattery tonight, but she was eating it up. it made her feel wanted, made her feel like this really does have a chance of surviving this time around. olivia truly hopes that it does, because she’d always had fun with brian. she missed having that in her life.

wasn’t that exactly what brian was doing right now though? keeping her on edge? keeping their date a surprise, making her mind wander to every possibility. it was only fair that she return that favor on their next date, make him antsy with his curiosity.

❝ you can be as curious as you want, but you won’t get a peep out of me. if my adorable six year old can’t break me for surprises, you definitely won’t either. ❞ although sometimes it was very difficult to resist noah’s puppy dog eyes. he did this thing where he’d compliment her on something or be overly nice to her to try and get information. it was so amusing, so cute, and she worries that one of these days she will end up cracking under the cuteness overload.

❝ are we almost there though? i’m worried that soon my stomach will start making obnoxious noises begging for food. ❞

#char: brian #murkyhazed #patience is a queue;

Brian gave her a skeptical look, clearly unconvinced by her confidence.

"You're seriously comparing me to a six-year-old?" He asked, feigning offense. "That's insulting, Liv. To him, obviously. Kid's probably got way better interrogation techniques."

Knowing Noah, Brian wouldn't have been surprised if that were actually true. There weren't many people capable of getting Olivia Benson to bend once she'd made up her mind, but her son had an advantage none of them could compete with.

"But, you're forgetting something." A grin tugged at his lips. "I've known you a lot longer than he has. I know your tells."

Whether that would actually help him pry the details of their next date out of her remained to be seen. But Brian was more than willing to enjoy trying.

"And now you've pretty much guaranteed I'm gonna spend the rest of tonight wondering what you're planning." He glanced toward her. "Which I'm guessing was the point."

At the mention of her stomach, Brian laughed. "Okay, that might actually get me to reveal something." He looked ahead before turning his attention back to her.

"Yes, we're almost there. Five minutes, tops. I promise I'm not planning to starve you on our first date back together."

The words slipped out naturally, but they made him pause for just a fraction of a second.

Back together.

He liked the sound of that more than he probably should have this early. His expression softened as he looked at her.

"Although if your stomach does start growling, I'm absolutely pretending I don't know you." He was teasing, obviously. Brian grinned, reaching over to give her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Some things haven't changed, Liv."

Athena raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, baby. One of these days we're going to have a nice, quiet, completely uneventful week."

Even as she said it, she knew how ridiculous it sounded. Between their jobs, their family, and whatever catastrophe Los Angeles decided to throw at them next, boring probably wasn't in the cards.

At his indignation over the socks, Athena's eyebrows rose even higher. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I strike a nerve?" A teasing smile tugged at her lips. "Fine. You don't leave your socks on the floor. I'll make sure that's entered into the official record."

She laughed softly before settling closer to him.

"And I know you'll cook. Believe me, I have no intention of arguing with you about that. I happen to enjoy being married to a man who knows his way around a kitchen."

Her smile softened at his final words.

"Now, that right there sounds like my husband. Always thinking you can make everything happen just because you've decided it's going to."

There was nothing but affection behind the words. Athena reached up, gently resting her hand against his cheek. "We can't control everything that's coming, Bobby. Lord knows we've learned that enough times."

Her thumb brushed lightly against his skin. "But growing old with you?" A warm smile crossed her face. "That's the plan."

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "And I plan on giving you plenty to argue with me about along the way."

unwaveringcaptnash

"We would need to have a uneventful day first, before we even think there could be a week." He laugh. "And if I don't in work, then you probably would in work." Bobby told her.

"It isn't hitting a nerve. I know I put my dirty socks in the wash. And clean ones are where I keep them. Which isn't on the floor." Bobby said. "If there are any socks anywhere in the house on the floor, are you even sure they are mine?" Bobby asked.

Bobby laughed. "I know you wouldn't argue with me about that." He said. "It would be a mistake for anyone to argue with me when it comes to doing the cooking."

"Well, we have to focus towards it to put it out there that it will happen, Athena." Bobby told her. "Even if it is a struggle to control it along the way. And you know when I put my mind to something, I do it."

#patience is a queue;#char: athena #unwaveringcaptnash

Athena laughed, knowing he wasn't wrong. Between the two of their jobs, an uneventful day was practically a miracle. An entire week might require divine intervention.

"See, now that's exactly the problem. Even if you manage to stay out of trouble, apparently I'm supposed to do the same thing." She shook her head. "We're doomed already."

His insistence about the socks earned him a look.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Athena nodded slowly, as though the answer had suddenly become obvious. "They must belong to my other husband."

She managed to keep a perfectly straight face for all of two seconds before a grin broke through.

"Because apparently I've got strange men wandering around this house leaving their socks on the floor, and somehow that's more likely than Robert Nash forgetting to pick up after himself."

Athena gave him a pointed look. "But by all means, keep defending yourself. I'm enjoying this."

There was one subject, however, where Athena knew better than to challenge him.

"No argument here. This family knows exactly what happens when somebody tries to interfere with Captain Nash in his kitchen." She held up her hands in surrender. "That is your kingdom. I know my place."

His determination to make their peaceful week happen brought another smile to her face. "Oh, I know exactly what happens when you put your mind to something." Athena stepped closer, resting her hands against his chest. "It's one of the things I love about you."

She tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"But, baby, you can manifest all the peace and quiet you want. Unless you're planning on locking both of us in this house for seven straight days, eventually one of our phones is going to ring." Athena leaned up and kissed him.

"So how about we start small? One uneventful day. Twenty-four hours. Nobody gets kidnapped, trapped in a burning building, held at gunpoint, or ends up in the hospital."

She paused.

"And since it's us, maybe we should aim for twelve."

Athena gave him a look. "Oh, I have plenty. I'm just smart enough not to give you a list."

A playful smile tugged at her lips. There were certainly things that frightened Athena, although she wasn't particularly interested in providing her husband with ammunition after she'd just promised not to tease him about his.

Her expression softened as Bobby reassured Robyn. "Exactly. Doesn't matter whether it's the middle of the day or three in the morning. If you need us, you call."

Then Bobby looked at her. Athena knew that look.

The humor faded from her expression as she held his gaze. She could see the uncertainty there, and for a moment she simply gave him a small, reassuring nod. This was his conversation to have. She wasn't going to take that away from him, but she wanted him to know he wasn't having it alone.

When he finally began, Athena reached over and rested her hand gently against his.

"So...this blood type."

Her attention shifted toward Robyn, but she allowed Bobby to continue. They still didn't know what any of this meant. A shared rare blood type wasn't proof of anything, and Athena didn't want either of them getting ahead of themselves.

But it was enough to raise a question.

And once that question existed, Athena knew there was no pretending it didn't.

xchxsingcxrsx

"It isn't smart if I was going to surprise you with something and you could be scared of something you haven't told me about." Bobby pointed out. "I mean, phobias can be about anything." He told her.

Robyn nodded. "I know that I can. I certainly learnt that today." She added. She smiled at them both. She then looked at Bobby as he started saying this. "I know it is rare. I have been told that." She told them both. "I could have had to wait longer than I did if it wasn't for you, Bobby." She said.

Bobby looked at Robyn. "Thats the thing. It could be just luck." Bobby told her. "But...I don't know if this is the case or not. There could be a reason. And there is also the fact that you moved here from Minnesota." He said.

Robyn listened and then it started to dawn on her. It hadn't even crossed her mind until now, when he said it. "That we could be related."

#xchxsingcxrsx #char: athena #patience is a queue;

Athena had to concede that Bobby had a point about the phobias, even if she wasn't particularly eager to hand him information he could potentially use against her later.

"Fine." She sighed, giving him a look. "Mice."

She held up a finger almost immediately.

"And before either one of you says a word, I am not scared of them. I just don't appreciate tiny, uninvited creatures running around my house."

Even Athena knew how unconvincing that sounded.

"But if I ever find out you put one anywhere near me just to test that theory, Robert Nash, a needle is going to be the least of your worries."

Her teasing expression faded as the conversation shifted back toward Robyn. Athena remained quiet while Bobby explained the coincidence of their blood types and the Minnesota connection. She could see the realization beginning to form on Robyn's face.

Then Bobby said it.

That they could be related.

Athena's eyes moved immediately to Bobby.

She knew how difficult this was for him. There was no handbook for telling a young woman that the man she'd only recently met might be her biological father. Especially when they didn't have any proof yet.

Athena reached over and rested a reassuring hand against Bobby's arm before looking back at Robyn.

"That's what we wanted to tell you." Her voice was gentle. "We don't know anything for certain yet, honey. And Bobby doesn't want you thinking that we do."

She glanced toward her husband again, giving him the smallest encouraging nod. "But there are enough things lining up that we can't ignore the possibility either."

Athena deliberately stopped there. The rest wasn't hers to tell. Whatever Bobby wanted Robyn to know about his past, what had led him to wonder whether she could be his daughter, and what he wanted to do next needed to come from him.

Declan laughed softly, shaking his head as he reached for the box of pasta. "So that's how it's going to be." He waited until the water reached a rolling boil before carefully adding the pasta, giving it a quick stir just as instructed.

"One pot of pasta..." he counted, reaching for the bottle of wine. "One glass of wine..." He poured her a generous glass before carrying it over, setting it beside her with a small smile.

"And now for the music." Crossing to the speaker, he scrolled through a playlist until a slow, soulful love song filled the kitchen.

Turning back toward her, he tucked his hands into his pockets, making no move to rush her. "So..." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Beautiful woman..."

His voice dropped just enough to make the nickname linger. "Would you do me the incredible honor of sharing this dance with your hopelessly unruly husband?"

He extended his hand toward her. "I promise to return you to your pasta before anything burns."

thinkitsforever

Wine glass in hand, Jenna took a small sip as she watched Declan move about the kitchen, enjoying the soft melody floating from the speakers for a minute as the first song began to play. Feigning a split second of contemplation, she moved to set the glass back down on the counter before taking his hand.

“Just make sure my hopelessly unruly husband keeps his hands where I can see them.”

The playful tease said one thing, yet the hint of a mischievous sparkle in her eyes was speaking something completely different. It was almost like a dare of sorts, willing him to find out what might happen if he decided not to do as he’d just been told.

With the way Declan was looking at her as they danced, Jenna knew she was going to be in serious trouble if she held his gaze for much longer. In her head, she’d been so adamant that this was the night they’d actually make it all the way through dinner. That was before actual reality had taken over, and now all she could think about was the million and two different reasons why the man currently holding her in his arms was the only man she’d ever choose over and over again, no matter the situation, and in any lifetime.

“I should probably --” Figure out a way to complete a thought without becoming distracted.

“I think the pasta’s ready.”

Even if it was, there were no sudden movements being made to pull herself away and be sure, and part of her truthfully no longer cared.

#thinkitsforever #char: declan #patience is a queue;

Declan's eyebrow lifted at her warning, his gaze dropping pointedly to where his hand rested against her waist before returning to her face. "Hopelessly unruly?" He repeated. "That's a serious accusation, Mrs. Hayes."

The look in her eyes wasn't exactly helping her case. If anything, it was contradicting every word that had just come out of her mouth.

Still, Declan behaved himself. Mostly.

One hand remained clasped around hers while the other stayed innocently at her waist as they moved slowly around the kitchen. He watched her expression change as she looked up at him, and a knowing smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth.

"I should probably..." He prompted when her sentence disappeared.

His smile widened. There it was.

Declan knew that look. He'd seen it enough times over the years to know exactly where Jenna's thoughts had gone, and judging by the fact that she hadn't made the slightest attempt to move toward the stove, the pasta wasn't particularly high on her list of priorities.

"I think you're right." He agreed solemnly. "The pasta probably is ready."

And yet he made no effort to release her. Instead, he drew her fractionally closer, his eyes holding hers.

"You know, there's usually a fairly important step between realizing dinner is ready and actually eating it."

He leaned down, his lips brushing softly against hers before pulling back just enough to look at her.

"You have to let go of your husband."

Declan waited a moment. "Although I'm beginning to suspect the pasta was never really the problem." His thumb moved lightly against her waist.

"And before you blame me, I'd like the record to show that both of my hands are exactly where you can see them."

The smug satisfaction lasted another second before he finally laughed and kissed her forehead.

"Come on, trouble. We're eating dinner."

He reluctantly loosened his hold on her and stepped toward the stove, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Because I'm not explaining to Merritt tomorrow that her mother distracted me until I ruined perfectly good pasta."

A grin appeared. "Again."

@ofinkandalibis continued from here [ Margo meets steve rogers aka Captain America ]

Her closed lip smile while looking down gave way that his words meant alot. Again trying not to appear awestruck as she glanced back at him. Hearing him speak about people choosing sides. And that's exactly why I like doing what I do. I do agree that it's important for people to hear from both sides. My motto is, every has there own story."

She gave him a smirk when he confirms that he can handle her slew of questions. "Oh so your a true natural at being under pressure, gotcha. I guess I'm really in luck after all." Her grin also wide with glee in her eyes as the thoughts ran in her mind of what she wanted to ask him.

While margo and steve walked together down the art gallery, she had also took the time to look through the paintings and decor. She had also shown steve some of the newer stuff and explained the origin of who did the art. Using her hands to express the story behind who had painting this and that.

She paused beside steve, looking up at him after he had spoken. "Really? Are you talking about your past? Before you became captain America?" She asked curiously. Once hearing the rest of his story her features softened. "The art in the 21 century must be a sight to see from someone like you. I mean back when you were into art, what did you use for it? I mean I can imagine it must've been so different in the 1940s."

Steve smiled, his gaze lingering on one of the paintings before answering. "Yeah. Long before the serum. Long before anyone called me Captain America."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Back then, I was just a skinny kid from Brooklyn with a sketchbook." He slipped his hands into his pockets as they continued walking.

"I mostly used graphite pencils, charcoal, ink... whatever I could afford, really. Good art supplies weren't exactly cheap." His eyes drifted across another canvas.

"I spent hours sketching people on the subway, storefronts, neighborhoods... anything that caught my eye. I figured if I couldn't always be part of the world, I could at least draw it." He smiled to himself before looking back at Margo.

"The biggest difference isn't the technology. It's the freedom." He gestured toward the gallery around them. "Artists today have so many more mediums to work with. Digital art, photography, mixed media... things I never would've imagined back then."

His expression softened. "But the reason people make art..." He shook his head with a smile. "That hasn't changed. It's still about telling a story." He glanced at her knowingly. "I have a feeling that's one of the reasons you became a journalist."

Margo was truly enthralled by his story before he became the man he was today. It was honestly difficult to picture him being this skinny guy from Brooklyn. However she could see him taking up art.

She walked along side him, glancing at each art canvas while once in a while looking in his direction. Is that right? Well the prices for art supplies today damn near cost a fortune. What did you mean by not being apart of the world back then?" She was genuinely curious.

"It seems you are taking the change to this century quite well. There are so much new age technology that even I had a hard time adjusting sometimes. The art world now is so diverse and I love it, one of the reasons I like coming here."

Her expression softened as she focuses on a particular canvas." It is, but being a journalist wasn't always my first career choice. I also love to draw and paint. At one point I wanted to be an actress cause when I was younger I used to attend to alot of plays. But it just wasn't meant to happen and I'm okay with that." She replied with a shrug and a smile.

"So how about any family or loved ones?"

#char: steve #missmargomuse616

Steve smiled faintly as he followed her gaze toward the paintings. "Wasn't exactly cheap back then either. At least not when you didn't have much money to begin with."

He slipped his hands into his pockets as they continued through the gallery.

"What I meant was... before the war, I spent a lot of time feeling like I was watching life happen around me instead of really being part of it." He explained. "I was sick a lot. Couldn't do most of the things other guys my age could do. Couldn't enlist, no matter how many times I tried."

There was a hint of amusement in his expression at that admission. He'd long since accepted that stubbornness had been one of his defining characteristics even before the serum.

"Drawing was different. Didn't matter how strong I was or whether my lungs cooperated. All I needed was a pencil."

Steve glanced toward her when she mentioned how well he'd adjusted to the twenty-first century. "I don't know if I'd go that far." He chuckled. "I've gotten pretty good at pretending I know what's going on."

His eyes wandered around the gallery. "Some things are easier than others. Technology changes fast. People don't change nearly as much as they think they do." He paused beside another painting. "And art still makes sense. Maybe people have new ways of making it, but they're still trying to say something."

When Margo revealed that she painted as well, Steve's eyebrows lifted with genuine interest. "You draw?" He turned toward her a little more fully. "You buried the lead on that one, Miss Journalist." A smile tugged at his lips.

"And acting too? I'm starting to think there's an entire Margo Elliot biography I'm going to need before we leave here."

Her final question quieted him. "Family..." Steve's gaze drifted briefly toward the painting in front of them. "My parents are gone. My dad died when I was young, and I lost my mother before the war." He hesitated.

"I never had any brothers or sisters." There were other names that immediately came to mind. Bucky. Peggy. People who had been family whether they shared his blood or not. Some he'd lost. Some, impossibly, he'd been given back. "But I've learned family isn't always about who you're related to." He looked back at her. "I've got people in my life now that I'd consider family. People I'd trust with just about anything."

His expression softened before a trace of humor returned.

"As for the 'loved ones' part, that sounded suspiciously like a very subtle way of asking whether I'm seeing somebody."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Was that the journalist coming back out, or are you asking for yourself?"

Continued from here with @thinkitsforever

Declan let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand across his jaw. "Yeah, about that..."

He hadn't exactly been looking forward to recounting the rest of his conversation with Merritt. Not because he wanted to hide anything from Jenna, but because he knew some of what their daughter had said was going to hurt her.

"She wasn't exactly subtle about why she came to me first. She pretty much admitted she figured you'd say no, and apparently I'm supposed to have some secret ability to convince you otherwise."

His expression tightened slightly. "So I shut the conversation down." Declan paused, meeting Jenna's gaze.

"Not because she wants to go to Italy. Honestly, under different circumstances, I'd at least hear her out. We know Sienna's parents, she'd be staying at their villa, and she's seventeen. Wanting to take a trip with her friends isn't unreasonable."

His jaw tightened again. "But the way she handled being told that none of that automatically meant we'd say yes? That was a problem."

He hesitated for a moment.

"She told me you think she's the worst daughter ever. Then she started talking about everything she's been through and said it was almost like you didn't care that she'd gone through something traumatic too."

Declan shook his head. "That's where I stopped her." His frustration resurfaced at the memory.

"I told her she could be angry with us. She could think we're unfair. She could hate every decision we make for the next year if she wanted to. But she was not going to sit there and turn you into the villain because you aren't giving her what she wants."

He was quiet for a moment before continuing. "And I'm worried about the same thing you are. Because she's talking about what happened like it's this series of terrible things that happened to her, and she's still not acknowledging that some of it started with choices she made."

His expression softened slightly.

"What happened afterward was frightening. Getting arrested was frightening. Watching me have a heart attack a few weeks later was frightening. I'm not taking any of that away from her."

His voice lowered.

"But she threw the party, Jen. She brought the alcohol and drugs into our home. She made those choices. And until she can acknowledge that without immediately making herself the victim, I don't know how we're supposed to believe she's ready for the kind of trust she's asking us to give her."

Declan reached for Jenna's hand.

"And you're not the life ruiner here." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I know she makes you feel like you are sometimes. But you're not. I'm not going to let her come to me because she thinks Dad's easier and use me to get around you. That's not how this works."

His gaze remained on hers. "We're on the same side. She doesn't get a yes from me because she expects a no from you."

Declan sighed. "So as far as I'm concerned, Italy is off the table right now. Not forever. I'm not saying there's nothing she could do between now and spring break that would make me reconsider. But I'm not discussing it with her again until she can have the conversation without disrespecting you, manipulating us, or pretending she had no part in why we're having trouble trusting her in the first place."

thinkitsforever

“You can be pretty persuasive when you want to be, Mr. Hayes.”

Well, at least in certain areas, anyway. When it came to their children, though, they talked it through and came to a mutual decision, rather than having one convince the other to join a specific side. It’d always been that way, ever since Merritt was little.

The remainder of the explanation didn’t surprise her in the least, yet it also didn’t stop fresh tears from pricking at the corners of her eyes, either. Contrary to popular belief, though, it wasn’t because Merritt had painted such an ugly, dark picture of her mother’s supposed thoughts and feelings towards her. No, the tears were falling because Jenna had finally accepted the fact that whatever was going on with her eldest was something much bigger than she could fix on her own. There was something deeper going on, and not being able to recognize her own daughter anymore scared her to death.

“I probably would’ve said yes, had she not decided to throw that party, but thank you,” she managed through a forced smile, swiping away at the tears as fast as they fell. She hadn’t necessarily needed Declan to come to her defense, but Jenna appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. Mothers and teenage daughters fought all the time, and she’d known she and Merritt wouldn’t be the exception to the rule, yet given the pattern the seventeen-year-old was beginning to create, it felt like something more than just typical teenage rebellion.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to give her the best life possible. I know she inherited her dramatic tendencies from me, but if she truly believes I don’t care and don’t love her… You and I both know that’s the furthest thing from the truth, but maybe somewhere along the way I did take one too many business trips or make one too many mistakes, unintentional as they were. Yes, she made the choices that set this whole thing in motion all on her own, but I’m her mother. I’m supposed to keep her safe, and right now I have absolutely no idea how to do that anymore.”

In a perfect world, they’d be able to sit down and talk things through with a genuine heart to heart conversation. Merritt would be open to actually listening and actively participating, rather than just spouting off answers she thought her mother wanted to hear. The growing amount of distance between them still made very little sense, but Jenna was determined not to let their relationship crack completely. That little girl who refused to put away her toys or try something new at dinner without a hug first as payment was still in there somewhere.

She had to be. Jenna wouldn’t let herself believe otherwise.

“Is it selfish of me to want my daughter back here and now, rather than waiting until she comes home from Italy, if she is eventually able to have that type of conversation with us between now and then? She’s going to be eighteen in a couple of months, and while my reasons for wanting to keep her here have nothing to do with her soon no longer having to listen to what we say at all, I just don’t want to send her out there into a world that doesn’t care the way we do.”

Okay, so maybe it had a little bit to do with Merritt almost being an adult in the eyes of the law, but not in any type of potentially controlling way.

“There has to be a way to get through to her, and I refuse to give up until we find it and bring our Merritt back, because the one from these past few months is not the daughter we raised.”

#char: declan #thinkitsforever

A faint smile tugged at Declan's lips. "I have my moments, Mrs. Hayes."

The smile didn't last. Watching the tears gather in Jenna's eyes was considerably harder than listening to Merritt yell at him. Anger he could handle. Anger gave him something tangible to push against. This was different.

He reached for her without hesitation, brushing his thumb gently beneath her eye before another tear could fall.

"Hey. Don't do that to yourself." His voice was quiet. "You didn't take one too many business trips. You didn't love her too little. And you didn't fail her because you couldn't somehow anticipate every bad decision she'd make at seventeen."

Declan shook his head. "Do you know how many nights you stayed up with her when she was sick? How many meetings you rearranged because she had something at school? How many times you came home exhausted and still sat on the floor with her because she wanted your attention?"

His gaze held hers. "One rough period doesn't erase seventeen years, Jenna."

He understood the instinct, though. He'd done enough second-guessing of his own since the party. Every conversation he should have had. Every warning sign he might have missed. Every moment when work had demanded his attention and he'd given it.

"We're her parents. Of course we're going to look backward and wonder what we could've done differently. That's part of the job." He paused. "But there's a difference between asking ourselves whether we missed something and deciding we caused it."

At her question about Italy, Declan was quiet for a moment "No. I don't think it's selfish." His hand found hers. "I don't want her halfway around the world while things are like this either. Not because she's almost eighteen. Not because I think we should keep her locked in this house until she's thirty."

A slight twitch of his lips accompanied the last remark before his expression sobered again.

"I want to know that when something goes wrong, she's going to call us instead of hiding it. I want to trust her judgment. And after that party, I'm not there yet." He squeezed her hand gently.

"But I also don't think we need to decide today that Italy is permanently off the table. If she shows us between now and then that she's ready, really shows us, we can talk about it again. Not because she wore us down. Because something actually changed."

Declan grew quiet when Jenna spoke about getting their daughter back. "Jen." He waited until she looked at him. "We haven't lost her." His voice was certain.

"She's angry. She's pushing us away. She's making choices neither one of us understands, and I agree with you that there's more going on than she's telling us. But she's still Merritt."

He brought Jenna's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

"Maybe the little girl who needed a hug before she'd try something new isn't coming back exactly the way we remember her. She's growing up. Some of that we're going to have to let happen, even when we hate it."

His expression softened.

"But the girl who loves you? The girl who knows exactly who her mother is and how much you've done for her? She's still in there. She's just seventeen, pissed off at the world, and currently convinced that we're idiots."

A small smile finally broke through. "Which, if memory serves, is practically a requirement at that age." He pulled Jenna closer. "We'll figure out what's going on with her. And if we can't figure it out ourselves, then we find someone who can help us. But we're not giving up on her."

Declan pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"And you're not taking the blame for this by yourself. She's our daughter. We worry about her together. We deal with this together. That's the deal."

@ofinkandalibis continued from here April & Margo ( special guests the ninga turtles)

As the fight continues in fron of her margo wonders which one was who that April was referring to. It also appeared that April has known these four turtles for awhile by the way she spoke of them.

"Practice? And who have they practiced with?" She couldn't help but ask.

With all the action going on, she was surprised that she turned away for a second to regard April in a polite greeting. Flashed her a sheepish smile in return.

A loud crash caused margo to flinch. Looking towards the one turtle who had a orange or yellow bandana speak out. He almost sounds young or at least he spoke in a way that a young adult talks.

"Are they..teens? I guess that would explain the constant jokes." Margo chuckled a bit understanding a bit more now.

"If..your willing to tell me the whole story I'm all ears. I mean after witnessing this..I can't unsee it."

Margo turned her head towards the sound of metal, she now saw that the turtles have defeated the ninjas. All laying like a sack of potatoes. "It looks like inside have, and they took out the bad guys..now what's next?"

Margo gave April a humorous look. Understanding how the other woman must've felt like when seeing these creatures for the first time. If anything margo was impressed that she didn't run away and screaming herself at firat glance of them.

The more margo heard about this new information about them all the more It became clear that these turtles meant alot to her. Margo was speechless, and learing about the threat being more terrifying had her worried. Maybe putting the trust in these teenage turtles was a good thing, of course she would like to find of more about them.

April for the most part seems like a decent woman who knows what she is talking about. Already she had to give her kudos for being amazing in her own right.

Margo gave April a nervous smile before looking back over to the four teenage turtles. They were big up close, dark green and look like large turtles with weapons behind their backs or shells? Each had a different color bandana wrapped around their heads.

The one named Michelangelo spoke up first and cause margo to smile fondly. "Hello Michelangelo, nice meeting you. You say you like pizza? Well pizza is one of my favorite foods so you have good tase." She chuckles when the other turtle intervened which lead to a silly back and forth. "I think I can see why you have a fondness for them." Margo spoke softly towards April.

"Well, you get no argument from me." Margo looked towards the turtle with the red bandana. "and whats your name?"

#char: april #missmargomuse616

April couldn't help but smile as she watched Margo take everything in. She remembered her own first encounter with the turtles well enough to know that there was a considerable difference between hearing about four mutant teenage turtles and actually standing face-to-face with them.

"Trust me, you're handling this a lot better than most people would." She assured her.

Michelangelo immediately brightened at Margo's response. "See? She gets it! Pizza brings people together."

April laughed, shaking her head. "Careful. Tell him pizza is one of your favorite foods and he'll decide you're his new best friend."

When Margo commented on her fondness for them, April's expression softened. Her gaze moved briefly over the four brothers before returning to Margo. "Yeah. They're pretty hard not to get attached to." She admitted. "Even when they're driving me completely insane."

The turtle in the red bandana looked toward Margo when she addressed him.

"Raphael." He answered, his voice carrying considerably less enthusiasm than Michelangelo's introduction had.

April glanced toward him before looking back at Margo. "Don't let the attitude fool you. That's basically his version of being friendly."

Raphael shot her a look. "I said my name, didn't I?"

"And we're all very proud of you." April replied dryly.

Michelangelo snickered from beside him, earning an immediate glare from his brother.

April tried unsuccessfully to hide her amusement before gesturing toward the remaining two. "Since we're apparently doing introductions one at a time, the one in blue is Leonardo, and the one in purple is Donatello."

She looked back at Margo. "And now you've officially met the whole family."

@ofinkandalibis continued from here [ Margo meets tony stark aka iron man ]

Margo was both flattered and taken aback by his admission to reading her article. At first she was sure that he wouldn't take too kindly about what she wrote, maybe had a misjudged notion about what his reaction might be. When he also told her that he wouldn't answer most of her questions she closed her eyes briefly and scoffed.

"Oh well, thanks. I do try my best even if I can't get most answers that I'm looking for."

Hearing tony speak highly of betty made her smile, even though her opinion on tony was less than favorable, she did respect when he does in terms of saving people. As much as she would like a headline, this time it wasn't about that.

"Even if I was here for a scoop I'm pretty sure you wouldn't tell me everything. So yes, I'm only here for regular conversation mr stark." She saw a seat nearby that he suggested and slides down across from him. " Thank you, btw I think thats a best case scenario, especially if you plan of buying the meal for us." She replied with a smirk.

" Says the person who saves people on a regular basis. That's interesting how you would perceive it that way. I mean sure that's how most Americans would view things Although there are others that appreciate the facts." She replied with a shrug. Margo had been been through many walks of life and while she sees why tony feels that way, there's also more nuances.

She cackled at his typical joke about he. "Oh but I do believe it or not. While yes It is tempting to keep my journalist brain off, I do like to talk about other things besides a new headline. How about you mr stark? Is it easy for you to go from Iron man to tony?"

Margo nodded at the mention of colonel james Rhodes. The only thing she heard about him was the title and that he was friends with the infamous tony stark. Now he was also a part of the avengers assembly.

She shook her head with a grin, hearing about his version of what they were like together was amusing. No wonder she heard about the reputation tony was known for before gis iron man days. "Wow, you are something else you that. So you're one pf those guys who likes to break the rules, of course your friend tries to reel you in, but it seems like you enjoy the luxury. I don't know, maybe it's good that you have a friend like Colonel Rhodes if your both opposites."

Looking up to catch Tony's rebuttal with a sly expression on her face. " Oh relax stark, never said I blame you for the start of this. Although you did announce your identity to the public. Captain America only arrive here from the past afterwards I belive." She replied with a head tilt.

Her features turned a bit serious at his question. "The reason being is that it doesn't pay as much as writing about superheros does these days. And I work at the new york bulletin where it's rare for topics such as social justice yo be brought up."

She rolled her eyes at his little joke about superheros and his profile. Sure he was a good looking man but he sure had no trouble pointing that out. She shook her head looking down. "Maybe someday I'll look into writing that. I'm in my late 20s now, I have plenty of time to think about that later on."

#char: tony stark #missmargomuse616

Tony's eyebrows rose slightly at her observation. "Saving people and believing they'll agree with you are two very different things." He pointed out. If anything, years spent as Iron Man had taught him exactly how quickly public opinion could change. One day you were a hero, the next you were the reason half of Congress had developed an ulcer.

Her next question caught him off guard, though he covered it quickly with a crooked smile. "You know, for someone who claims she can turn off the journalist brain, you're suspiciously good at sneaking in interview questions."

He considered it for a moment. "Honestly? I don't know if there is an Iron Man and a Tony anymore. Not really." His expression grew thoughtful. "The suit comes off. Everything that comes with it doesn't."

The seriousness lasted only a moment before Rhodey became the subject of conversation. Tony gave a quiet laugh. "Rhodey would probably object to the phrase 'reel me in.' He prefers to think of himself as the lone voice of reason in an otherwise hopeless situation." Tony paused. "He's wrong, obviously."

He glanced toward her, amusement dancing in his eyes. "But yeah. He's been putting up with me longer than just about anybody. And before you ask, no, I have absolutely no idea why."

At her accusation about his very public announcement, Tony placed a hand against his chest. "Okay, first of all, that press conference was going perfectly until someone handed me cue cards and expected me to follow them. Really, this is Coulson's fault."

He couldn't argue with the rest of it, though. "And yes, technically Rogers showed up afterward. But I'm still refusing responsibility for every cape, hammer and patriotic shield that followed."

The humor faded somewhat when she explained why she'd moved away from social justice reporting. "That's a lousy reason to have to give up something you care about." There was no joke attached this time. "I understand needing to pay the bills. Believe me, I'm probably the last person who gets to lecture anybody about money. But if that's the kind of writing you actually want to do, don't let the Bulletin decide you can't."

Her final comment brought the smirk back. "Late twenties?" Tony repeated. "Practically ancient."

He gave her a solemn nod before the expression cracked. "You're right. Better start planning retirement immediately."

His gaze lingered on her for another moment before he continued walking beside her. "So let's say money and editors aren't part of the equation. No superheroes, no headlines you have to chase because they'll get clicks. You get to write one story because you actually think it matters." Tony tilted his head toward her.

"What's the story?"

Declan's expression didn't change at the exaggerated pout. Normally, Merritt's theatrics could pull at least the hint of a smile from him. This time, there was nothing.

"Merritt, enough."

His voice wasn't raised. If anything, it had gotten quieter. But the humor that had been there only moments before was gone. He loved his daughter more than anything, but his patience was rapidly wearing thin.

"You're allowed to be frustrated with us. You're allowed to think we're being unfair. Hell, you're allowed to be angry because we're not giving you the answer you want. But you are not going to sit there and tell me that your mother doesn't care about what happened to you."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"And you don't get to talk about everything that's happened as though you were an innocent bystander in your own life."

Declan paused, choosing his next words carefully. The last thing he wanted was to say something out of anger that he couldn't take back.

"You made the choice to throw that party. You made the choice to have alcohol and drugs in our home. Those choices ended with you getting arrested. Your mother didn't do that to you. I didn't do that to you."

There were things Merritt didn't know. Phone calls she had never heard. Conversations she'd never been part of. Strings Declan had pulled to make certain one incredibly stupid decision at seventeen didn't follow his daughter for the rest of her life.

He had never told her because he hadn't done any of it for gratitude. He was her father. Protecting her future was his job, and he wasn't about to start keeping score now simply because he was angry.

"There are things your mother and I have done since that night that you don't know about. Things you may never know about, because we're your parents. We don't hand you an invoice every time we protect you."

He took a slow breath before continuing.

"And if you're including my heart attack in this incredibly traumatic period you've been through, then yes. I'm sure watching your father nearly die was terrifying. I hate that you had to experience that."

His expression softened for just a moment.

"But, sweetheart, I was the one lying in the hospital bed."

Declan shook his head.

"I can understand that you're hurting without pretending you had no part in how we got here. Those two things can be true at the same time. What happened to you matters. It matters to me, and it damn sure matters to your mother. But being hurt doesn't give you the right to hurt her back."

He looked directly at Merritt.

"And for the record, your mother does not think you're the worst daughter ever. She's angry with you. She's disappointed in some of the choices you've made. Those are not the same thing as not loving you."

His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the seriousness behind it.

"You keep asking when your mother and I are going to trust you again. Merritt, this is part of it. Trust isn't just whether we believe you'll never throw another party. It's whether you can hear an answer you don't like without turning your mother into the villain and yourself into the victim."

Declan leaned back, letting the words settle between them.

"So right now, we're done talking about Italy. Because whether you get on that plane isn't the conversation we need to be having anymore."

thinkitsforever

“Right, I almost forgot. You’re never going to not take her side, because the great and powerful Jenna Morgan can do nothing wrong. She’s got you wrapped so tightly around her little finger I’m surprised you even remember how to think for yourself anymore.”

Did Merritt actually mean any of the words coming out of her mouth now? Of course not. Had she actually stopped to think about anyone other than herself for two seconds, she’d come to realize her mother hadn’t even given her opinion on the topic either way. More than that, she didn’t even know the trip existed. Rather than exercise rational judgement, the teenager had given into a dramatic assumption and allowed it to snowball from there.

As far as the drug part of the party was concerned, she wanted to shout from the rafters that those hadn’t been her choice. She’d had absolutely zero idea someone would be bringing them as a little party favor of sorts, but any argument would only yet again either fall on deaf ears or ultimately come back to bite her, given how she’d popped a pill or two over the course of the night.

Maybe one day there would be questions about why Declan and Jenna were so secretive and tight lipped about exactly what they’d done to keep her free and clear of any real charges, but as soon as she heard the words heart and attack, her entire demeanor changed.

“I hate that you almost died because of me.”

Yes, they’d talked things through and come to an understanding once he was home from the hospital and she could no longer avoid him anymore, but Merritt still felt a need to walk on eggshells around her father, even now, just in case. Maybe that was part of the reason why she continuously piled all the blame on Jenna, rather than splitting it evenly between both parents.

“I know Mom loves me. That’s never been something I’ve questioned, ever. I just wish she’d stop treating me like a little kid and at the very least see me as an equal now that I’m almost eighteen.”

A roll of the eyes met Jenna’s voice in her head, saying something along the lines of how she’d stop treating her like a child as soon as she stopped acting like one.

“If we’re not allowed to talk about Italy anymore, what else is there left to say, other than good luck with the rest of your little sculpture thingy?”