#agent short fuse

[lemonisherelol]

H-HOLY SHIT…Y-YAOI…

HOLY FUCK THEY KISSED!!!! THEY KISSED!!!!

ITS CANON!!! IM CLASSIFIED’S EYEBROWS!!!

LOK TEY SUPPOR

[lacking-rodents]

NW humanization designs

[hitchell-mope]

Very funny movie

[theoctopuswhoisscottish]

OH MY GOOOOOD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I LOVE THE WAY SHE LOOKS IN UR STYLE❤️❤️❤️

Fry with the boots @theoctopuswhoisscottish

[inkdrinkerworld]

hotch and reader who've had a fight so he's testy and short fused with the team all day till david/emily call you to tell you to come over to the bau and sort it out so he's not so difficult to work with

in hindsight, it was a stupid to be upset with each other over. you're both adults, so there's no way that between work and chores that you'd both see each other as much as a normal couple.

you and aaron were really just missing each other and couldn't get enough of each other to the point where you both came resentful at the ringing phones and being stolen away for work.

you weren't ready to let the fight be and neither was aaron. you just didn't know how bad he was taking it till your phone was pinging at work.

there's a million texts from his co-workers begging you to make up so he isn't so snappy and mean. even rossi texted.

with a sigh, you say, "i'm going for lunch," and grab your bag and head to the precinct.

when you get there, you see the chaos your husband has caused. there's more people than necessary in the bullpen, desks are crowded and people are walking around with hurried steps.

"what's going on?" you ask spencer as you spot him in the kitchenette.

"hotch is making everyone redo case reports, apparently it's not up to par." he's stirring an ungodly amount of sugar into his coffee. "i think he just needs to feel busy so he doesn't mull over your falling out."

spencer had gotten like a brother over the years you and aaron had been together and he's a damn good profiler so you're not surprised him or anyone else is aware of your fight.

"i'll go talk to him," spencer pats your shoulder, a marker of good luck as you weave through bodies to get to your husband's office.

you knock and his gruff, 'come in' isn't the least bit shocking. fights with him can consume him because he feels it's all his fault and that if something bad is happening it's because of him.

"aaron?" you mumble, skin clammy as you step into the hot, dark office.

"y/n, what are you doing here?" not honey. so he's still pretty pissed off.

"david said you weren't having the best day ever, so i thought we'd better sort the fight out." you say plainly as you sit on the lip of his desk.

you watch aaron's eyebrows crease to meet each other and then smooth out a couple times. "you know it's not your fault that we don't see each other as much as we'd like to, don't you?" you ask and watch your husband's shoulders sag.

"it's not yours either," he says softly, ashamed that he had implied that to you when you'd suggested having a day with just you two. "work is just work."

you nod, your hands reaching for his chair and rolling it closer to you. "it's hard, we both work odd hours, and that's fine." you reassure him, hands lost in his glossy hair. "but we have days off to take, even if it's just one."

aaron nods, letting his forehead fall to your sternum with a sigh. "i'm not mad at you for having a job like this, one that you love. i'd never ask you to leave it either, we just need to get better at managing our time together." you whisper the words as you continue playing with his hair.

"i'd never ask you to leave your either. i'm sorry everything got so convoluted." he says and you smile, kissing the crown of his head.

"i'm sorry too, my love." aaron raises his head and presses his lips to your jaw. "though, i think you need to apologise to david and the rest of the team. they've got agents from every department in the bullpen."

aaron sighs, his arms wrapping around your waist. "let them be busy for a little while longer, haven't had quiet time with my wife in a little while."

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at flying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[natashaslesbian]

Red Hair, Green Eyes

Summary: Ever since joining the avengers the entire team has noticed your resemblance to Natasha. You admire her but there’s just one problem, all she does is ignore you.

Word Count: 1.4K

Parings: (Natasha x Teen!Reader)

Warnings/Content: Crying / Some Self Hatred / Hydra Mentions / Lil Bit Of Natasha’s Past

————

It was no secret you were Natasha’s biggest fan, ever since you’d joined the avengers you’d followed the widow around like a little shadow. You sat close by when she was training and sparing with her friends and watched her closely when she prepared her guns and weapons. You were the youngest avenger on the team, being only 10 when the team found you at a hydra base and 13 when you first went out on the field. You weren’t allowed on all the missions with the adults, just the data collection and stealth ones.

You weren’t particularly close to anyone at the tower, they all looked out for you and made sure you had everything you needed but they weren’t really your friends. And despite your admiration for Natasha, the redhead had never spoken a word to you. She ignored you at the best of times and usually just pretended you weren’t there. You thought you were being sly, but she was a spy, she knew when you were hiding around a corner or watching her from a distance, but still she pushed you out of her mind.

To most of the team, it seemed you had settled in well with the avengers but they didn’t know how you truly felt. You had been conditioned to keep your emotions at bay and that’s why once again, you were smothered under your duvet, crying. You knew if these superheroes found out how weak you were they would kick you off the team, and you didn’t have anywhere to go so you stayed strong. But the lonely nights and dark thoughts always caught up with you eventually.

Natasha had just finished her late night training session, something she had started recently to avoid you lurking in the shadows, when she was headed back to her bedroom. Her room was at the end of the hall meaning she had to pass every avengers bedroom on the journey to hers. She paused briefly at the fourth bedroom, a small shuffle catching her attention from behind the door, your door. It had just gone 1am, far too late in Natasha’s opinion for you to be awake. She continued her route down the hall before a loud thud came from your bedroom.

The redhead had a temper, a short fuse that followed her around. Some of the team were due to leave for a mission at 7am and you were disturbing their peace, Natasha decided she was going to give you a piece of her mind. The widow trudged back to your door and slammed her fist against the wood “make another sound and I’ll keep you up for the next 7 nights” she angrily hushed through the door. Her anger rose when she all she got in response was silence “an apology would be nice” Natasha shrugged.

Deciding that you had got her message, Natasha turned around to head for bed. But a loud sob from behind the door stoped her in her tracks. The agent stepped forward and rested her head against your bedroom door, the sounds coming from inside breaking her heart. Natasha recalled the countless nights she herself had locked her door and cried into her pillow, asking the world why it had been so cruel to her. Suddenly, Natasha felt guilty for the way she had treated you and with a deep breath gently opened your door.

You froze in place when your bedroom door suddenly opened, you thought the voice behind it had left. You prayed the uninvited visitor would turn around and leave, not noticing you in the dark underneath your blankets. Little did you know, the world’s stealthiest spy was hovering in your doorway. “Y/n?” She quietly asked. You whipped your head around at the sound of her voice “Na-Natasha?” You asked with a small wobble in your voice. “I’m sorry!” You cried “I didn’t mean to be loud I’m so sorry please don’t hurt me” you begged.

Natasha’s heart sank at your words “y/n I would never hurt you, no one here will hurt you” she said as she took small steps towards you. You shrunk into yourself as she got close to the bed “can I sit?” She softly asked, you nodded your head yes. “Do you wanna talk about what’s got you upset?” Natasha asked. “Why?” You whispered quietly “well sometimes it can help to talk to someone” the redhead said. “Why would you want to talk to me?” You asked as you quickly wiped away a falling tear.

Natasha shuffled closer to you, devastated when you flinched in reaction “because I care about you, I don’t want to see you upset” she said. Your brows furrowed as you listened to her words “you don’t care about me” you said “you never talk to me and all you do is ignore me” you mumbled “you hate me”. Natasha’s breath got stuck in her throat hearing what you had said “I don’t hate you” she said. The redhead wished she could go back and change the way she had treated you, she never meant to hurt you.

“Y/n” she said, causing you to look up at her again “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, I was just trying to keep you safe” Natasha said. “What?” You asked “you’re just a kid y/n, this life, you deserve to be a child not a weapon. I thought that if I pushed you away, you’d give up and you wouldn’t want to be like me” Natasha frowned. “You don’t want me to be like you?” You said disappointed. “I’m a killer” the widow whispered “I’m nothing more than a spy, I won’t let this team turn you into another weapon” she said.

“You think I want to be like you as an avenger?” You shyly asked. “I’ve seen you following me y/n, watching me when I train, you’re so young this shouldn’t be your priority right now” Natasha softly said, feeling awfully small. “That’s not why I watch you” you whispered. Natasha’s head shot up “what?” She asked. You pulled your knees up to your chest, nervous she would be angry at you when you told her the real reason as to why you took such a liking to her.

“I want to be like you when I grow up” you said “not as an avenger but as a person. You’re kind and funny, dedicated to what you do and you’re a good friend” you quietly said. “Y/n, I-“ Natasha stuttered over her words, no one had ever praised her for her personality, not even Clint. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I would’ve talked to you but I just assumed you didn’t like me because I’m so messed up” you said as you began to cry again.

Natasha shuffled closer to you and reached for your hand, delighted when you didn’t flinch away. “You’re not messed up y/n” she said “thank you for what you said, it was really nice to hear. Look the truth is, I was ignoring you to keep you safe and I’m sorry about that but also, well, when I look at you, I see myself, and it’s not just because of the hair” she laughed. When you first came to the tower, your resemblance to the widow was a hot topic. You had matching long curly red hair and a pair of striking green eyes.

“Not only do you look like me y/n but the way you grew up, it reminds me of my past. When everyone started calling you my shadow I couldn’t shake the image of myself watching me, thinking how disappointed she would be in me” Natasha said as a tear began to escape her eye. “I’m sorry, I never thought about that. But I don’t think she would be disappointed in you” you kindly smiled. “You don’t have to say that y/n” Natasha said. “But it’s true, I don’t think badly of you I like being your shadow I like being a little you” you said.

Natasha sat up straight as she took a deep breath “I’ve treated you so unfairly y/n, can you forgive me? Can we start again?” She said. “I forgive you” you smiled warmly. The red head leaned forward to brush your matching locks behind your ears “my little shadow, things are gonna be different from now on. If you need anything I want you to come to me, I want to be the person you can lean on” Natasha said. “I’d like that” you said as you shuffled closer to her. You awkwardly leaned towards the widow, hoping she would be okay with your movements. Natasha wrapped her arms around you and held you tightly, smiling wildly although you couldn’t see. “Now you tell me what’s got you upset and I’ll fix it okay, I’ve got you now” Natasha said.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[sunvmars]

tart | s.r. [3]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 2.4k

warnings: very, very brief smut mention !

summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help

a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned

Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"

Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."

Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."

Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.

"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.

Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"

"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."

"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"

"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."

A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."

Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.

Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."

Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"

"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."

"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"

"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"

"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"

"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."

Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."

"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"

"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."

"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."

"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."

"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.

"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."

"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.

"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."

The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.

Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.

The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.

"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.

"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."

Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.

"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.

Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.

"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."

"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"

"But I'm going to find him first."

For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."

"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."

"Buck, this is something I have to do-"

"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."

Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.

"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."

Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."

Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.

"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."

Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."

Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."

He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"

Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."

"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.

Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.

"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."

With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.

As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.

Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"

"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.

With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.

As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.

You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.

He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.

On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.

His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.

"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"

He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.

"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

taglist!

@oh-thats-cute @vicmc624 @blackhawkfanatic @tooruen

@athenabarnes @gh0stgurl @missing-loki @elizacusi-blog

@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana

@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998

think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)

[pixiesfz]

more jessie pls bby 🙏

in honour of more jflem news lets write some ANGST AHAHAHA

moving on j.f

plot: Jessie tells you she's leaving chelsea

warning angst

You could tell something was wrong with Jessie. She was spending more time on the phone which you assumed was her family as they missed her from the Christmas break but usually they would also ask to talk to you so when you texted her sister she said that they've only been texting.

You were getting slightly worried as your girlfriend wasn't telling you who was on the phone.

You were all at training, you were partnered with Niamh as you kicked the ball to each other. "You know how my last relationship went Niamh" you groaned and the English girl nodded "Jessie is not the type to cheat, she is so in love with you it's gross"

"Then why isn't she telling me who she's on the phone with 24/7?" you complained and the girl shrugged "Do you know what they talk about?" she asked and you shook your head "She always moves to another room in the house whenever they call" you explained.

Niamh furrowed her eyebrows "Have you ever thought that it could be her agent?" she asked softly as her eyes turned to Jessie who was talking to Emma on the sidelines.

"I- I don't know" you admitted as your heart started to beat faster "she would tell me if she wanted to move" you paused "wouldn't she?"

Niamh looked down at her feet "I mean she doesn't play as much as she used to" she said and your breaths felt quicker "but she would still tell me I mean I'm her girlfriend"

Niamh looked back at you, noticing your nerves, and walked to you, placing her hand on your shoulder "Hey we could be reading this wrong" she told you "she could just be calling her Canadian team mates" she tried to reassure you.

You both watched as Jessie excused herself from her and Emma's conversation to pick up her phone that had started ringing.

"Yeah because she can get out of training to call her teammates" you scoffed.

You were quick to get out of training, waiting at Jessie's car with your arms crossed and foot tapping whilst you thought.

You would be fine if she left Chelsea for more gametime, well maybe not Arsenal but it's what she deserved.

She had friends at Liverpool from UCLA they would look after her there.

but still... why didn't she tell you.

Jessie finally made her way to the car with a smile, her hair out and brushed back which usually you would run your hands through immediately.

"hey" she smiled, kissing your cheek before headig to the drivers seat, you froze as she sat down.

Was she this calm about keeping a secret from you.

You bit your tongue on the way home as the car filled with uncomfortable silence. It wasn't until Jessie parked when your short fuse had exploded.

"Are you leaving Chelsea?" you whispered as Jessie went to open the door, she stopped moving whilst you asked the question, leaning back into her seat with a sigh.

"I-I" she stuttered "You can just say yes Jess," you told her "People have been offering for me" she admits "Explains all the phone calls" You deadpanned.

"I wanted to tell you" she said softly and you scoffed "when?, when you played your first game there, I don't mind that your leaving to another club, it won't affect our relationship we're still going to be here and-"

"It's the Portland Thorns" Jessie cut you off.

Your head spun to your girlfriend "oh" was all you said.

Portland Thorns.... in the NWSL....in America....four hours away from you.

"How much?" you asked "what?" Jessie said "How much are they paying you?" you asked, your voice hard

"250,000 dollars" she whispered, her hands lifting up to grip the steering wheel harder.

You scoffed at the information "that's really good Jess" you whispered and the brunette nodded "I said no" she revealed and you furrowed your brows "why?" you asked

"I saw you at training with Niamh and-"

"This is because of me?" you asked, shocked at her words "I don't want to leave you y/n" she stated and you crossed your head "Jessie, this is an amazing opportunity for you and not to put it lightly you're not getting the time you deserve"

"If I work harder then-" "No Jessie you know that's not how Emma works" you cut the girl off as uncomfortable silence grew again in the car.

If it was for her career she had to do it, you loved her that much.

"You need to go and play there," you told her and she sat still "I love you y/n, I don't want to lose you, long-distance never lasts and we don't know how long I'll be there for if I go," she said.

You didn't say anything, you just got up and made your way into the house.

Her dream was to become a world wide name in soccer.

You were holding her back.

Jessie came in not too long after you, her hands in her hair "Do you want me to go?" she asked and you looked down, not answering her "I love you so much y/n I'll stay if you love me too, please be honest"

You wanted her to stay.

You wanted her to to be in your bed every night, cuddling you.

You sat still, preparing yourself to look into her eyes which you knew had tears pouring from them.

When you looked up your heart dropped.

"I don't" you whispered "I honestly don't love you enough Jessie," you said sternly as the girl looked away, as she did you wiped the tear that had fallen under one of your eyes.

"okay," she muttered, "I guess I'll go then".

Months later you sat next to Sam as she and Kristie invited you over for dinner and a movie.

"I never asked this but" Sam started "Jessie told me what happened and how you guys broke up" "Sam!" Kristie warned and you sighed "it's fine" you told her.

"I just told her what she needed to hear but I wasn't being honest with her".

[beauty-and-passion]

Stan's "Wheel of Shame" in thisisnotawebsitecom reveals that when Stan failed a history test so badly that he got a "mathematically impossible" F-, Filbrick's reaction was to make Stan stand outside for two days with a sign saying "Extra Stan-3 dollars or a better offer" and that (aside from an IRS agent) only Caryn showed up to his fake funeral, implying that Filbrick refused to go because he was still angry at him. What are your thoughts on what we learned about Filbrick at This Is Not A Website Dot Com?

Considering the new things we learned, I think it proves my point even more: Filbrick was a man of his time, unable to express his feelings in less stern, "tough" ways.

Leaving your own son out with a sign as if you want to sell him it's awful and if someone tries to do the same today, they should be put straight into jail and the cell key should be thrown into a lake. But for Filbrick's mentality (i.e. the mentality of a man from 1920 more or less), this was probably the only way to show how truly angry he was at his son's failure.

Failing in school wasn't a novelty for Stanley - so it probably wasn't a novelty for his parents either. But taking the worst grade ever (im)possible? It's very plausible that it lit Filbrick's short fuse immediately. So, once again, if we add:

his superpower of getting immensely angry immediately

the mentality of a man from 1920 - when getting good grades was essential and fundamental to prove your worth as a person

we get a punishment that made zero sense, didn't help Stanley in the slightest and only proves how angry Filbrick was. In fact, we never see Stanley trying to replicate or to take something useful from it: it was just a petty and useless reaction, period.

While not going to the funeral... I don't know why, but I just thought Filbrick was already dead and that's why he didn't show up :P

But if he wasn't dead and didn't show out of anger... well, I wouldn't be very surprised either. Old people are stubborn and old people from past years were even more stubborn. I have stories of people from my family / the town where my grandma was born, who held stupid grudges for so long, to refuse to show up to the other person's funeral. Maybe because the other person broke some stupid social rule or maybe because they couldn't do something that wouldn't have been "socially acceptable" or some other stupid shit.

Yes, unfortunately, that was a thing. And yes, it's as stupid as it sounds.

So, if Filbrick was still alive, I don't find it very weird that a man in his... what, 80es? 90es? refuses to attend his son's (fake) funeral, because he still holds a grudge and, according to the social conventions he followed for all of his life (i.e. a man should be tough and never say sorry), cannot afford to show any weakness - not even for his own son.

And if today we can look at these kinds of behavior and realize how stupid they are, I can't help but feel a bit of pity too, for how these people ended up wrapped in their own stupid social conventions and grudges for so long, to not back up even when facing death.

[maybe-im-dark]

It was supposed to be a simple, quiet cleaning day at the Team X base. The mission had been grueling, the kind that left everyone sore, bruised, and dead tired. But orders were orders, and today, Stryker had assigned the entire team to clean the barracks.

Logan, Victor, John, Bradley, Agent Zero, and Fred Dukes were already hard at work, grumbling as they scrubbed, swept, and tried to ignore the weight of exhaustion. Victor, as usual, had his trademark scowl plastered on his face, and Logan, always the quiet one, worked steadily, keeping his head down.

Then there was Wade.

Wade Wilson, in his endless enthusiasm for turning every mundane task into a spectacle, was bouncing around the room. He had a wet rag in one hand, a broom in the other, and was twirling and spinning in rhythm as though he were on stage. To make things worse, or better—depending on who you asked—he was singing at the top of his lungs.

"It's the hard knock life, for us! It's the hard knock life, for us!" Wade sang, his voice echoing through the barracks, as he exaggerated his movements, sweeping dust around in a haphazard fashion.

Fred Dukes groaned, shaking his head as he wiped down a nearby table. "He never shuts up, does he?"

John Wraith, standing in the corner polishing some gear, muttered under his breath, "Does he have to make fun of everything? Life ain't a musical."

Victor Creed, who had been quietly sweeping a section of the floor, paused mid-sweep. His fingers twitched, and with a soft, but menacing sound, his claws extended as he glared at Wade’s back. His patience was razor-thin, and Wade’s singing wasn’t helping.

"One of these days…" Victor growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Logan noticed the shift in Victor’s mood and, without looking up, calmly placed a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “Easy, Victor,” he said, his tone soft but firm. He knew how short Victor’s fuse could be, especially after a tough mission, and the last thing they needed was Wade ending up in pieces.

Victor snorted but retracted his claws, giving Logan a curt nod. His gaze, however, lingered on Wade, who continued to sing and dance as if he hadn’t just narrowly avoided being shredded.

By now, Wade had transitioned into using the broom as a makeshift microphone, his voice carrying through the room, completely oblivious to the murderous stares directed his way.

"Steada treated, we get tricked! Steada kisses, we get kicked!"

Fred, with a tired sigh, threw his cleaning cloth into a bucket and glared at the oblivious mercenary. “Do you ever run out of energy, Wilson?”

Wade grinned, twirling on his heel. "Not a chance, big guy! This is my element!"

As Wade attempted a grand finish, swinging the broom dramatically, the rest of the team exchanged exhausted glances, each of them silently wishing for an early end to the day—or at least for Wade to miraculously lose his voice.

---

Wade groaned as he slowly blinked his eyes open. His head was pounding, his limbs heavy with sleep. As his vision cleared, he noticed the entire team standing around him, each one staring down at him with varying degrees of annoyance.

Logan, with his arms crossed and brow furrowed, nudged Wade’s shoulder with his boot. “You overslept. Hurry up.”

Bradley chuckled from the side, adding, “Yeah, lazybones. Get your ass up.”

Wade sighed dramatically, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He glanced at Logan, then at the others, who were waiting impatiently for him to get moving.

With a tired, but still mischievous grin, Wade looked directly at yes —you the reader, whispering: “It’s the hard knock life.”

[lemonisherelol]

"Together…we are the north wind" ahh type shit 😭

Blume Schwan = Swan (He/him, confused as fem)

Vinter = Albino moose (He/him)

Rebel = Lynx (She/her)

Victor = Hare (He/they)

Flint = Stoat (They/them)

Anyways I’m gonna try and make their lore bc I just made them :P

[magpod-confessions]

helen is so much more intriguing than michael. i suppose michael, or at least fanon michael, does have the tragic feeble twink turned angry hot monster appeal. but beyond that? he doesn’t have any complex hidden depths or concealed intentions underneath the way he acts. he’s terrible at being the distortion because he’s so ruled by emotion that he is incapable of the slow creeping gaslighting that the distortion thrives on. he’s just angry. he does lie and contradict himself, of course, as an agent of the spiral he kind of has to. but his lies are all weak and petulant. there’s no persuasiveness. he never genuinely feels like a well-intentioned friend. he can’t hold a facade long enough to really slip underneath anyone’s guard, because he has such a quick temper and short fuse that he reacts to completely innocuous comments with stabbing.

helen, however, is fascinating because we almost never know how genuine she’s being. she is as perfect a fit for the distortion as any human can be. jon explains it himself in season 5, helen is much more dangerous than michael because despite everything about her, she could genuinely convince them she’s their friend. a violent monster who they know eats people, is so skilled at appearing kind, gaslighting them and gaining their trust, that she actually got their trust. that’s what the distortion does. false promises and friendship where you never know if it’s true. even the audience never finds out what she’s genuinely being honest about and what’s fabricated. she feels like a friend. she makes it feel like it’s okay to let your guard down and trust her, even if logically you know how dangerous she is.

i think that’s ten times more interesting than michael. like i love michael and he’s a great character, but half of what he does is just get angry and stab people because he had a sad childhood and gertrude betrayed him. helen is infinitely more complicated and fun to dissect and think about. 🗣️

Agreed actually. I think both distortions are fascinating but I love staring at helen for an extended period of time - rosette

i have a michael preference but that's because he's a different guy in my mind . i love helen sssooooo much though ... i <3 the distortions - deceit

[hitchell-mope]

Oh for fucks sake

[technocite]

Until 1999 comes out and reveals the lore my personal headcanon/fanon idea is that the Hex used to be a pretty tightnit and functional squad of agents but the encroaching helminth technocyte infection is slowly driving them “mad” (ie just throwing their brain chemistries off and worsening pre-existing issues and being forced to suddenly go cold turkey on your adderal because your cool machine body is now immune to conventional drugs) so it’s manifesting as them all having unusually short fuses with each other and bickering and increasingly resorting to coping mechanisms for their worsening neuroses (Arthur is isolating himself, Amir is dopamine seeking, Aoi is incongruently faking it till she makes it, Leticia is increasingly prickly, Quincy’s developing something of a defensive superiority complex, and Eleanor is invading peoples’ minds and privacies and keeping obsessive tabs on her peers). Basically everyone’s on the verge of a bad nervous breakdown (which could be used as a metaphor for “losing their humanity” or something. Like really examine how there’s this ableist connection between having psychological disorders/disabilities and personhood (lack of it)? But doing so via Dark Sector Dating Sim where everyone’s a tragic werewolf but instead of turning into a wolf they’re turning into superpowered space ninja mechsuits. )

Which is to say that absolutely very little of this is strongly supported by the demo but I’ve been having a lot of fun thinking about it because I think one of the most entertaining ways to do a character study is to see how they crack under pressure/distress/trauma and cope with it. And the Hex are in that perfect intersection of being characters that are deliberately written to be appealing in some way (for the folks who wish to go the dating sim route) but also have some interpersonal conflict. Maybe part of the plot of 1999 involves the drifter reconnecting them or helping em manage their emotional issues (see inside an ugly broken thing and take its pain away or whatever). Drifter’s had some personal experience with cognitive behavior therapy or emotional regulation skills via learning to master and escape the spirals of Duviri, they might be able to wrestle the Hex into a group therapy session. More likely involving void nonsense. I could just be projecting my own personal issues onto these characters but it’s fun.

All of this is just baseless musings, and I very well could be pulling a lot of nonsense out of thin air- I’ve definitely confused warframe canon with my own assumptions or imaginings to fill in the gaps in the story myself. But anyways.

[onetoomanyyy]

Splatbands Idol AU Part 1 - Ichiya and Namida as The Squid Sisters

Thought I’d finalize my designs for this idea (it’s not really an “AU” despite the title bc the designs are kinda the main focus) where the main bands and idols for each game swap roles. So OTH are Wet Floor, Deep Cut are C-Side, and ofc, the Squid Sisters are Squid Squad. Ichiya and Namida specifically, since I like to think of them as a duo and their colors even fit Splatoon’s main colors of blue and orange!

feat. some kinda lazy art bc I don’t rlly wanna do lineart esp since I’m gonna have to draw the other two groups as well lol. Pretty happy with their designs tho, I think I fused them well.

more info under the cut to keep this post short

Even tho this concept is mostly focused on the band characters, this does mean that the idols take their place as well (along with the other band members, so the main band of Splatoon 1 is now Callie, Marie, Ikkan and Murasaki). It gets kinda confusing if you think too hard about it (esp for OTH lol) so we’re just not gonna do that. It’s mostly so I can draw the band characters in cute outfits lol

Anyway Meet Squid Squad! Here to bring news, music, and splatfests to a plaza near you.

The Squid Sisters have a decent amount of story, and although I’m already said in going to worry too much about that, it is pretty easy to merge the squid sisters and squid squad’s stories together, so why not? Instead of growing apart in Splatoon 2 they full on break up, but then get back together and instead start to use pseudonyms (Agent 001 and 002). Guess that means Ikkan and Callie are chill but just distant.

Their personalities are the same tho. Ichiya is still an asshole in Splatoon 1 lol. Maybe not really on the news, but you can see it in Octo Valley for sure. And then I bet He’s nicer in Splatoon 3 but his first reaction to C-Side is definitely not “I love them”

As for Namida, she’s a lil less smug than Marie, but she’s still the more sarcastic of the two, both on camera and off. She’s a little relieved that Agent 4 never heard of Squid Squad and feels weird about being called “boss” all the time.

They both play their instruments on stage during splatfests along with singing, kinda like Marina in We’re So Back. All their songs minus Calamari Inkantation are Squid Squad songs with a more pop-like tinge. (Ikkan left bc he didn’t like all the pop Callie was writing lol).

oh yea and have to mention they probably are agents but they’re not related idk how they’d know captain cuttlefish. Or maybe captain cuttlefish is someone entirely different! Who knows!

Once again this is more of a fun concept than a fully fledged AU. None of these confusing or vague things are gonna get concrete explanations, I just like speculating abt this type of thing.