#I don’t need a speech about how I don’t need to make myself uncomfortable for other people

[swirlingyouintomypoems]

That tweet that’s like. Probably nonbinary but I have a job so it’s whatever but instead it’s like. Probably asexual but dating is hard enough so it’s whatever

[kavehater]

Do I have to start saying not that anyone would care in that super duper passive aggressive way to guilt people into caring or what

[gatheringbones]

[“HOW TRAUMA PLAYS OUT IN GROUPS

Horizontal Violence

When we can’t strike back at those who are truly harming us, we often lash out at those we can reach. We yell at our lover because we can’t yell at the boss. In groups, we may fight even the most minor conflict to the death. We attack our fellow group members with all the unexpressed rage that really belongs to the perpetrators of violence. In our minds, we are always fighting for our lives. Just as enraged dogs will attack one another with no regard for their relative size, we lose sight of real power differentials and may demolish a group member with a blast of anger without realizing that we have shifted from victim of abuse to abuser.

Horizontal Violence Strategies

Friends don’t let friends abuse one another. A group that sets healthy boundaries and standards for behavior needs to hold one another accountable for keeping them.

Offer constructive critique and honest feedback.

Collective intervention: Others in the group can support one another to tell the raging group member that their behavior is not acceptable. Couple this with:

Good cop/bad cop: While one or more group members set and hold clear boundaries, another might offer help and support to find counseling, coaching or mediation.

Mentoring: Assigning the offending person a mentor can provide long-term encouragement to both change behavior and look at deeper patterns.

The Perpetual Victim

Some people cling to the role of victim, claiming center stage. Whatever issue or drama erups somehow always ends up being about them. Their patterns may originate from deep hurt and trauma and we can feel sympathy, but colluding with them is not helpful either to the person or the group. Fruitless efforts to appease them can drain the group’s energy and undermine its effectiveness.

When we are caught up in the role of victim, our speech and actions reflect our sense of powerlessness. To regain our sense of empowerment, we might begin by challenging the inherent assumptions in our words and practicing alternative framings and affirmations.

Blaming

Statement: “You made me feel …”

Assumptions: I am at the mercy of other people’s speech and actions. I am helpless to do anything but respond to how others treat me.

Alternate suggestion: I choose how to respond to other people’s statements and assessments. I can choose what to take in and what to discard. My feelings are real and valid, but I can move through them quickly and separate them from my own assumptions and other people’s judgments.

Blurting

Statement: “I have to speak my truth.” Translation: I’m about to blurt out something hurtful in the most blunt way possible. Assumptions: Truth is uncomfortable, painful and festering. My feelings and perceptions are The Truth, and I must get it out just as I might vomit up a bad meal, regardless of consequences.

Alternate suggestion: I choose to speak my truth, using all my sensitivity, wisdom and skill so that I can be clearly heard and effective.

Bleating

Statement: “I’m being silenced.”

Assumption: If people actually heard me, they would agree with me. So if they don’t agree with me, they are shutting me down.

Alternate suggestion: I can advocate for my own perspective — whether or not others agree — and respect their right to differ. I do not need anyone’s permission to advocate for myself.

Strategies for Transforming the Role of Victim

Clear, fair and transparent ways that people can earn power in the group will provide constructive alternatives to victimization.

Structures and practice of constructive critique can provide positive channels for complaints.

Encourage responsibility with questions like: What would you suggest to make the situation different? What structures would you like to see in place that would help us address your needs and concerns?”]

starhawk, from the empowerment manual: a guide for collaborative groups, 2011

[pochiperpe90]

[ENG] Marinelli: “Playing Mussolini? It was painful”

The actor, on stage without pauses in the eight episodes, talks about his experience in the role of the dictator: "I didn't know how things went, I hope that M can be useful to the public".

Luca Marinelli didn't just give Benito Mussolini his face, he gave him his entire soul. Present in practically every scene of the eight episodes of the series "M - The son of the century", coming soon to Sky and streaming on NOW, he climbed through dialogues without time limits and monologues that he gave shape to by looking straight into the camera, an unbelievable work and not just of interpretation: The feeling I had reading Antonio Scurati's book was of having been confronted with my gigantic ignorance. It’s healthy to confront this, never take it for granted that you always have all the answers and simplify life, because this attitude is called populism, and it was invented by Mussolini himself. It’s healthy to know the limits of our knowledge, I honestly didn’t think that things had gone this way and I hope that they push the audience towards the desire to be present to themselves, to make their own interpretations, knowing that they are not alone. “During the shooting he confesses - I would have liked to be launched on some other planet. We talked about our history, which is perhaps the most painful thing and I am very happy with what we did. It happened that in some scenes I got excited with the Duce, which generated a deep sadness in me, but I had to crush something in myself to continue to pump this dark side of evil, a process that for me was very painful. Some scenes struck me particularly, like the ones we shot in Parliament, even there Mussolini did not hide any of his aims, we filmed the speeches he made and for me repeating those words was something really scary”.

To prepare for this difficult job, the actor watched many films from the Istituto Luce “and even in their triumphant aspects I perceived the great violence of fascism, it’s wrong to treat dictators like devils or madmen, because they are people like us and we need to know them”. But it’s precisely the knowledge that is lacking in our country, starting with the education of our school system, about which Marinelli has several doubts. “I’m curious - he says - to see what the public's reaction will be to the arrival of the series. I believe it’s important to start counting on an education ‘alive’ again, but in Italy unfortunately we don’t invest in the school system and we see obvious results. I have not been a great student in my path, but honestly I don’t remember having addressed these issues, perhaps we didn’t even get there with the program and I think it’s dangerous”. After so many months spent wearing the uncomfortable shoes of Mussolini, it was not easy for the actor to get out of a role that was totally immersive. “This series - concludes - left me with the fact of wanting to be present in my present and my past. Only like this can we understand what we are experiencing today as well as going in the direction that is most useful to everyone”.

Cr: CIAK

[x-neurodivergent-reader]

Headcanons: 10th Doctor x Autistic!Reader established relationship

A/N: I've been rewatching the 9th and 10th Doctors' series recently, and found myself getting attached all over again, so I've decided to add the Tenth Doctor to my list of characters I write for! Enjoy!

The reader here is gender-neutral.

Content warnings: None.

Loves any happy stims you have! He finds that it makes your joy more contagious – and since his positive energy tends to similarly rub off on you, he gets to see you stim often, to his delight.

Like Thirteen, he’s genuinely interested in any toys or jewellery you may use to stim, and likes to learn about how it helps you. If he comes across anything that might serve a similar purpose for you during his trips, he won’t hesitate to get it for you, if possible.

He listens enthusiastically to you when you talk about your special interest(s). While he may struggle with explicit verbal affection, he more than makes up for it by giving you his full attention, and watching with sheer adoration as you engage with the things you love.

Even if you can't tell how he feels about you from his facial expression alone, you can rest assured that once there's someone else around you (especially if it's Donna), you'll be made aware by them teasing him relentlessly for his heart-eyes.

Once again, there’s a sensory room in the TARDIS all for yourself! It has everything you could need to calm down from sensory overload, meltdowns, or just feeling a bit “off”.

The Doctor won’t go in unless you explicitly allow him to – though admittedly, he's happy if you do, because he also gets some use out of some of the stim and sensory items!

While he’s often quite energetic, he knows when to calm down, if you get overstimulated. You may not always be able to avoid things that make you feel that way in your adventures, but he’s mindful in finding ways to help you endure it, at least until you make it back to the TARDIS.

Those moments where his darker, “oncoming storm” side comes out can be a bit complicated. He'll most likely tell you to go back to the TARDIS, because he doesn’t want you to get overwhelmed from seeing him like that, but he usually also needs you there to reign him in.

By the time you’re together, you’ve come to recognise this, and always focus on stopping him from going too far. He feels awful if you do get overwhelmed, so he’ll either give you some space for as long as you need it, or stay with you to help you calm down, depending on what you want.

If you lose speech for any reason, or are nonverbal, the Doctor will gladly talk enough for the two of you, and will immediately steer anyone who asks any uncomfortable questions about it away from the subject. He also isn’t afraid to call them out if they don’t relent.

He'll do anything you need to keep you safe during your travels, because he genuinely loves being with you!

[kirkwall-tourism-department]

Extra Reading

Some very short emmrook fluff, with hopefully more to come!

I feel like most people's emmrook dynamics fall into either student/professor or idiot/smart. I have a lot more fun with the latter.

The smell of incense drifted out of her new companion's hallway, a warm glow peeking out from beneath his door, a stark contrast to the otherworldly purple haze that hung in the Lighthouse's library. They had returned from their trip to the Necropolis earlier in the day, the professor and his skeletal assistant settling in quickly. Rook prepared herself for a conversation that had become routine at this point- introductions, explanations, questions. Every one had gone differently. Bellara had been beside herself, the history she had searched her entire life for coming back in a blighted, twisted form hitting her like a punch to the gut. Davrin, on the other hand, had responded to the news with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. Based on her limited interactions with the man when they had retrieved him from the Necropolis, Rook was preparing herself to field a deluge of questions she was wholly unequipped to answer. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, and it flew open in response a few moments later, Manfred standing in the doorway, hissing happily. 

“Come in!” The professor greeted her from the other side of the room, still filing the mountains of books he had brought into his new home. After organizing up the shelf he was working on to his standards, he turned to face her. When Bellara had suggested adding a master necromancer to the team, the image Rook had conjured in her head certainly wasn’t what stood in front of her now.  Initially, she had pictured a dour, silent figure robed exclusively in black and with a permanent scowl carved into their face. Instead, they got a sharply dressed, uncomfortably polite man who always wore a whisper of a smile. “How may I help you, Rook?”

“Just wanted to see how you were settling in, talk to you about what’s going on.” Rook responded as she took in the room that had seemingly apparated when Emmrich entered the Lighthouse. Two stories tall, lined with oak bookcases and centered around a spiraling staircase. Rook was unsure if the stone autopsy table in front of her was something Emmrich brought from the Necropolis or if the Lighthouse was able to sense the needs of its inhabitants. Emmrich went to sit at his desk, and motioned for Rook to sit in the chair opposite him. Manfred moved up the staircase, taking a pile of books with him.

“You did begin to explain the situation at the Necropolis, but any further elucidation you could provide would be welcome.” He answered, his hands motioning throughout the sentence to add emphasis. The various bracelets and rings that banded his arms softly jingled as his hands moved, creating a gentle chorus that underscored his voice. 

“Well,” Rook took a breath, preparing her speech. “The Elven gods are real. I disrupted the Dread Wolf’s ritual to tear down the Veil. The imprisoned elven gods escaped, and he got stuck in the Fade. Now the two that escaped are out there, blighted, and planning to conquer the world.” She had never had a way with words. The professor blinked at her, processing the information she had dumped onto his lap.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“You have a surprising amount of levity, given the situation.”

“I don’t really see much benefit in being a pessimist.” Rook shrugged, unsure how to explain how her apparent optimism belied the ironic detachment she felt from the world around her. Forged in the nihilism of the alienage and honed by the Warden’s flippancy towards their own mortality, her separation from the world around her was an effective armor, even if it often left her envying those who walked though the world unprotected, but feeling.

A loud crash rang out above them.

“Manfred.” Emmrich’s eyes widened with concern and exasperation. “I apologize, but I must excuse myself for a moment. I need to make sure he’s okay.” She watched as the professor walked up the staircase, disappearing as it spiraled higher. After a few moments, the itch that appeared underneath her skin whenever she had to sit still for too long surfaced, prompting her to stand and pace the room. The bookcases that lined the room drew her to them, rows and rows of books of mismatched sizes organized as neatly as possible. Trailing her finger on the spines, she read the titles as they passed by. A History of Necromantic Tradition in the Storm Age. In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar. Metaphysical Fade Theory and Practical Applications. Her finger stopped on the massive tome when she noticed the name of the author listed beneath it. Professor Emmrich Volkarin. 

Shit.

It was difficult to not feel intimidated by him. Despite his kind demeanor, she felt out of her depth when she spoke with him. More than once, he had used words she had never heard before and couldn’t guess the meaning of. She had only become literate a few years ago, and even then, it was by the most generous of definitions. Growing up in an alienage didn’t offer many educational opportunities, and after joining the Wardens, she had been taught the bare minimum necessary to finish her training. Despite her literacy struggles, she had always harbored a desire to learn more about the world around her, about the world outside the towering walls of the alienage. Originally, it was driven by spite and jealousy from her childhood- seeing the human children going to lessons in the Chantry, overhearing their conversations about what they had learned that day. Nonetheless, the desire had clung onto her into adulthood.

“Find something interesting?”

“Sorry, just getting distracted.” Rook snapped out of her thoughts, bringing herself back to the conversation at hand. 

“You’re welcome to borrow anything that interests you.” he offered as he sat back down in his chair. Rook tried to stifle the laugh that came out of her. The thought that she would be able to understand any of the texts that surrounded them was completely absurd. The Professor raised a questioning eyebrow in response to her outburst.

“I appreciate the offer, I just…” she trailed off before finishing her explanation, a hot tide of shame beginning to wash over her. Did she really want to admit to him that she would struggle to read even the simplest book in his collection? Her borderline illiteracy usually wasn’t a point of embarrassment for her, given the wide array of other skills she had. Fighting darkspawn rarely challenged one’s academic abilities. In this setting, though, without a sword and shield to demonstrate her other competencies, the deficiencies she did have felt glaringly obvious.  “I’m not much of a reader.”

“A pity.” Emmrich sighed, a slight air of disappointment gracing his dignified features. “Though, I often find those who don’t enjoy reading simply haven’t found the right book yet.” The slight waves of embarrassment that had been lapping at her feet began to rise, threatening to drown her. She had hoped her refusal would have been enough to drop the topic, and she wouldn’t have to make an ass of herself in front of 

Then, Rook reminded herself of who she was. Why was she embarrassed? Who cared if she could barely read? She could kill hordes of darkspawn with her eyes closed- how many literate people could say that about themselves?

“When I say I’m not much of a reader,” Rook explained, “I mean I can’t read very well. So, despite how interesting I’m sure many of these books are, I wouldn’t get much from them.” Emmrich’s expression softened, but instead of the pity she was expecting, he seemed to be embarrassed himself. Suddenly, a light appeared in his eyes.

“Would you like someone to teach you?”

[ravendruid]

Because I'm still waiting for that "rain check" to be cashed in the future, how about "slow dance" with Vax and Kiki?

Hello! Thank you for the prompt!! This fic was inspired by the trailer for Season 3 of The Legend of Vox Machina. Spoilers for anyone who has watched/is watching TLOVM but has not watched Campaign One!

If I could hold you for a minute

(Read on AO3)

Vax leans over the rail on the high balcony that overlooks the scintillating lights of Whitestone, far down below him. The light of Catha shines brightly in the new leaves of the Sun Tree in the center of town, a sign of hope and prosperity for the newly rebuilt city. With two dragons down, Vax allows himself to feel that slight burn of hope, too, even though he is not entirely confident about their alliance with Raishan. The day will come when Vax will enact his revenge on the creature who murdered his mother, but for now, he will enjoy the warm feeling of hope and the respite after an arduous battle.

It’s funny, though, how Vax sees the light go off two rooms down and the corner of his mouth immediately curls up into a smile. He exits the balcony and waits by the door of his bedroom, listening to the not-so-quiet footsteps of his favorite druid, and, right on cue, she knocks at his door.

Vax opens the door, not entirely surprised to see Keyleth still in her battle gear—he is still in his armor, after all—with a tight smile on her face. “Can I stay with you tonight?” She asks. Gods know how much Vax wants her to stay, but instead of opening his mouth and accidentally saying something shitty as he is prone to do sometimes, he simply takes a step back and invites her in with a smile.

“Were you outside?” Keyleth asks, noticing the open glass door. Vax nods, still too scared to speak. He holds out his hand to her, which she takes, then leads them both out into the chill of the night. “Today was hard,” Keyleth whispers as if she is afraid the city will hear her vacillate. “I was afraid I was going to lose you for a moment, there.”

“I’m sorry,” Vax manages with a hoarse voice. 

“You know, I’ve been afraid for so long that I would lose you–all of you, but you specifically,” Keyleth turns her back on the city and looks up at the stone walls of the castle above her. Vax glaces sideways at her and waits for her to continue as he knows she is not done yet. “And I guess it’s a valid fear considering…”

“Considering what?” Vax persuades her when Keyleth takes too long to continue.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this but, if by some crazy chance we all somehow make it through this alive—with the Chroma Conclave, I mean—and I go on to complete my Aramente, I will still watch you all die.”

Vax shifts uncomfortably, looking at Keyleth more seriously now. She is still so young and she already bears a heavy burden, but then again, don’t they all? Doesn’t Vax, too, now that he thinks about it? Doesn’t the weight of the armor press on him in a permanent reminder of his bond to the God of Death?

“By becoming headmaster of the Air Ashari, I will enter a bit of a realm of immortality of sorts, where I could live for a very, very long time. And I’ve been afraid every time I look at one of your faces that it’s going to be the last, and, deep down, I know that day is coming.”

Vax turns sideways to look at her, noticing the downwards curl of Keyleth’s lips, and says, “I know that with everything that has happened, between my new patron and killing dragons, we haven’t had the time to talk properly, but I need you to know, through everything, nothing has changed about how I feel about you. I know death is unavoidable,” Vax snickers at that seeing that he now works for the God of Death herself—whatever that means—then continues, “even if you go on to live a long time, if you are willing to spend some of that time, any time, with me, then I will simply count myself lucky to have it. You’re very dear to me.”

Vax is shocked at the tremble in his voice. In his head, his speech sounded more confident, but hearing his words be spoken in the cold air of Whitestone makes them sound less solid.

“I’ve… had an interesting talk with Vex’ahlia recently, and then with Pike. They have helped me see the other side of the coin.” Keyleth says, then she pulls away from the rail and re-enters Vax’s bedroom. He observes her through the open door and sees the half-elf light the fireplace with her magic—a sight that makes Vax warm and fuzzy inside—and stand by the fire. He follows her then, closing the doors to make sure the heat doesn’t escape, and joins her.

“You know… I’ve been thinking and I think I realized something,” Keyleth approaches Vax and grabs one of his hands by the side of his torso. The touch is warm and comforting, but her hopeful smile is even more. “I realized this whole time that I was afraid of losing you to a future that ultimately has not yet been written, which I know it’s stupid, and I realized that it’s okay to be scared. We still have a lot of demons to face, but we can face anything if we’re together, and I know I, personally, would rather face them at your side.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you, Vax. I have for a long time, and I’m sorry it took me this long to say it.” Keyleth finishes, placing a hand on Vax’s chest. The touch burns through the thick leather of his armor, through his skin and muscles until it reaches his heart and encloses itself around the organ. If the sight of the moonlight on the Sun Tree’s leaves and the flickering of life in the city of Whitestone were already hopeful boons, Keyleth’s words and touch practically make Vax float with hope.

“I–I love you,” Vax smiles brighter than he’s ever done recently. Keyleth sniffles and chuckles lightly, then says, “I love you, too,” and, for a moment, Vax thinks she raises her hand to ask for a high-five, but then thinks better of it and wraps her arms around his neck. 

“May I kiss you?” He asks, knowing full well Keyleth is not as experienced as he is and not wanting to scare her. She nods bashfully, so Vax leans down and kisses her softly. Her lips are warm like fire and sweet like the berry wine they had for dinner. Vax could easily get lost in the softness of Keyleth’s touch, of her lips responding to him, of the tip of her tongue timidly searching for his. Vax indulges his curious druid and slips his tongue inside her mouth. Gods, if he already wanted to leave it all behind for her, now truly feeling the buzzing in his stomach at the contact and the love he has for this woman, he wants to disappear with her from the face of Exandria and live a secluded life, just the two of them.

“Oh, wow,” Keyleth pants. Even though their foreheads are touching and they are too close, Vax can still see the deep red blush on her cheeks, which he finds adorable.

“That was pretty fucking great,” He says, short of breath, too.

“That was pretty great, yeah,” And this time, Vax doesn’t imagine it. Keyleth does raise her hand in a high-five motion, which he awkwardly and giggly replies.

“I–I owe you a dance, don’t I?” Vax remembers all those nights ago in a lost tavern in the ruins of Westruun. Gods, has it really been that long?

“We don’t have music,” Keyleth points out, but Vax shrugs, “We don’t need music.”

Vax places Keyleth’s arms around his shoulders again, then wraps his own arms around her waist and leans foreheads with her one more time. He starts swinging them, side to side, with only the flames of the fireplace and the stray rays of moonlight lighting the room as he murmurs an old son his mother used to sing when she worked on her clothes. Keyleth sighs as she allows herself to relax and leans into Vax, following his lead, which he savors, not knowing if this is the last time they get to do this.

With two dragons to fight, and who knows what’s going to happen next, Vax can’t still fully relax, but right now, in Keyleth’s warm embrace, he tries his best to leave his fears at the door. It’s the least he can do for for the woman he loves.

[mxflowercheck]

Adira&Tilly thing that was in my head for some time

Not beta read like AT ALL

- Hey there?

Tilly leans other a console to look at Adira. They’re curled up almost under it, hugging their knees and staring into nothing.

- Lieutenant Stamets and Doctor Culber won’t be pleased with you staying up late, you know, right? Maybe move to..somewhere they don’t work.

- You’re also staying up late - Adira mumbles, not looking up, but also not tensing or outright sassing Tilly off. That’s a good sign.

- I am, technically, not a crew member anymore. Just visiting while you’re docking. - she keeps her tone light, but allows longing to slip into it. Adira hates being belittled. - So they can scold me, sure, but…i have an escape route.

There’s a huff and then silence. Light, familiar rumble of ships systems. Tilly waits a minute, shifts uncomfortably and tries again.

- Wanna talk about it?

Adira silent for another minute, swaying back and forth a bit.

- Yes. Yes I do. - they look up, and here it is - the firm, determined stare, Adira’s signature. Tilly gives them a slightly awkward smile and sits near them, cross-legged.

- So? Venting? Gossiping? Both? One and then the other to get distracted? I can bring ice cream.

Adira giggles, still looking at the floor. Tilly can see now that their cheeks are still wet from tears. She doesn’t ask even though she wants to bury anyone who made their…well, sibling, feel like this.

- None, i guess? I…It’s about Trill. The symbiont. Gray. - they smile fondly at their boyfriend’s name. - It’s…hard.

- Yeah, i can imagine. I had a parasite in me once - not that Trill is a parasite, but you get the idea, something existing in you. Creepy as hell.

- You did? - their eyebrows shot up and they finally looked at Tilly. - W- How did *that* happen?

- Oh, long story. It’s how we got Hugh back! I tell you later. For now it’s about you - she pokes them with an elbow lightly, - not about me.

- Wow. Okay. - Adira giggles nervously, rubbing their neck. - Can i..can i ask? How did you understand you want to be a teacher?

- Pretty sure you were there. Remember? The arguing cadets, near-death experience?

- Yep, i do. - they scoffed. - I mean..after it? Like, you wanted to be a captain for years! How did you..

- Make that incredible leap? - Tilly smiles and sighs. - Will you throw a screwdriver at me if i give an inspirational speech?

- This time - no. But! - their raise a finger. - only this time.

- Okay, okay. - she laughs and leans back on the console. - I..I mean, when i think about it, I never wanted to be Captain. Shit, when Saru left me in charge..I thought I’d throw up even hours later. It was..awful. But being in charge of this group of cadets wasn’t. And i..at some point it hit me - my mom..my mom is not here. She won’t see me as a Captain. And suddenly it felt pointless. I..I didn’t want to be Captain, i wanted to prove I can. I wanted to be like famous Captains. But now…i have no one to prove this to. And i’m already brave and smart and loyal and- I can be that without being Captain. Maybe I don’t need to try to fit into these shoes, maybe I need shoes that allow me to be myself! To be Tilly. Because i want to be a lot of things I’m not. And maybe will never be. But i can be me.

Adira looks at her in silence, something mixed in their eyes. Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

- Firstly, it was actually very sad. Secondly, - they sigh, hiding their faces in their hands, - I don’t know who i am. What’s me and what’s Tal and what’s Gray’s memories. Where’s Adira. And who should i be? Like..you, you have a goal! You want to be a pretty good person. I want to.. - they stumble upon their own words, their hands shake a bit. - I don’t know.

Tilly moves closer to them, presses their shoulders together, wraps an arm around Adira, pulling them closer. Hugs always help, don’t they?

- You know what, I give up on speeches. How do you feel about a bit of music?

- Um. Fine, i guess? Why?

- There’s a song. - Tilly taps her badge, summoning the holo-PADD. - Really old. Like, it was old even in our time. But i love it, and it kinda has the message I’m trying to get to you.

She doesn’t scroll for a long time - the songs is almost on top of “recently listened”. Tilly opens the text and presses play.

I wish I was big, as big as my house

I'd sleep on the trees, I'd skip every crowd

But I wouldn't fit on my therapist's couch

God, I could really use him now

I wish I was God, I'd never trip up

And if I did, well, so fuckin' what?

I could be cruel and break all your stuff

Yeah, I'd be loved no matter what

But if I was God, it'd get kinda weird

'Cause you would only say what I wanna hear

And then you would die, you'd love me to death

I'd never know who the hell I am

I wish I was me, whoever that is

I could just be and not give a shit

Hey, I'll be whatever makes you a fan

'Cause I don't know who the hell I am

Adira listens attentively and soons gets what Tilly wanted to say. For reason it feels…gut-wrenching. It feels right. It feels like their scream, their words. They don’t notice tears running down their face. They cry shamelessly, but smile broadly, and Tilly pulls them into a tight hug, her curls everywhere, blocking the world around.

- The point is…does it matter, who you are? It’s you, Adira. And you have Paul, and Hugh, and me, and Gray.

- I can just be and not give a shit - they laugh through tears, hugging her back.

- Exactly.

[quinnyundertow]

AN: I just saw the glitch where Kazuha has a gap in his teeth when he smiles. I couldn’t help myself.

Tags: Drabble, Fluff, Bullying mention, no Paimon, GN Reader

Words: 644

Characters: Kazuha, Gaming, Kaveh.

The sun is setting as your small group of misfit adventurers sit around a small fire. The crackle and pop of wood and the fat and grease of frying fish hiss and stoke the flames. Kaveh is detailing some shenanigans he had gotten into while trying to explore and inspect the inner structure of a temple in Liyue earlier today as you listen attentively while sewing up a rip in one of your bags. A natural storyteller you can’t help the grin on your lips as he laughs detailing the close shave he had with a boobytrap.

Gaming heartily laughs, “Oh man those things are no joke. Just take me with you next time! I’m not called the gold standard guard for nothing.” The two start up an animated discussion about one thing or another and you rise moving a few paces away to stretch your stiff limbs

“Tired?” Sparing a look across the camp to follow the gentle voice you see Kazuha leaning against a nearby tree. He’s giving you his signature close eyed small smile.

You walk over to your fellow wanderer and at his tap of his hand on the grass next to him you sit happily. You lay back, hands behind your head as a pillow. “Exhausted. But the good kind.”

He hums in response, his eyes returning to the boughs of the tree and its golden leaves. “As the moon rises. Only the crickets and breeze, make a lullaby.”

You look over, you flash him a toothy grin, “Was that a Haiku?”

He gives a soft laugh, his hand moving to cover his mouth. “Not a proper one. I would need more time to think, to truly impress.”

You give a quiet laugh at the five, seven, five syllable playful speech patterns. You're watching him cover his lower face hiding his smile from you. Only to remove his hand when he has the closed mouth small smile you always see. Tilting your head slightly, you mention curiously. “You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile with your teeth.”

Kazuha looks at you in surprise at the comment. His fluffy cream colored hair rolls down his shoulders in waves now that his ponytail is loose. He looks thoughtful for a moment. His tone is careful as he replies. “Is that so?”

You lean up on your elbows to see him better. He looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He shakes his head then stares into the distance, his mind far away in Inazuma. “I didn’t realize I was still doing that.” At your curious look he continues, his voice far off sounding. “I used to be teased pretty mercilessly for the gap in my front teeth.” He manages to give a breathy laugh, “Typical childish things. I guess I started covering it up then.”

He’s surprised by the sad look on your face when he glances over at your silence. “I’m sorry Kazuha, you didn’t deserve that. Kids are cruel, if it wasn’t that they would pick something else. How someone walks or what they weigh.” You look over and give him a wide grin, “What I mean is, I hope I get to see you smile wide someday. I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

Your friend flushes. His hand comes up as he returns your happy expression. He pauses for a moment as the gears shift in his mind. Then letting it fall he gives you the brightest grin with the gap between his front teeth exposed. His adorable expression makes you happily flush, “Cute.” the word whispered out before you can stop it. You stare at each other for a while just enjoying the gentle warm breezes and the soft scent of qingxin flowers.

The spell of the moment is broken as Gaming calls happily, “Guys foods done! Come and get it!”

[csuitebitches]

Heylo, I don’t know if you answer to personal relationship questions. I have recently stumbled to your account and I really love your content and I would love your advice on this.

I have recently realised I am not comfortable around masculine energy. I mean I always knew but I thought I had a progress and like I would want a relationship with a guy with healthy masculine energy. Turns out, being around masculine energy still scares me and I just don’t know what to do. How to overcome this uneasiness?

Hmm. I used to be the same way. I’m not sure if my story will resonate with you but see if it helps.

Growing up I wasn’t the beautiful friend. I was the chubby, spectacled, shy girl with a stutter. It took me a while to get myself sorted and feel confident.

But as a result, guys never really paid attention to me till I turned about 16-17. Which, for a girl, is pretty late considering that my friends were all dating boys since 11-12 (not like it even counts but basically the fact their crushes reciprocated their feelings and mine never did was a bit … crushing).

This meant that I began dating boys, that very frankly, didn’t deserve me. I began dating boys who were ready to “settle” for me because I thought I could never get the guys I wanted anyway. Or I began dating guys I would have the upper hand with; as in, I knew they liked me more and I could leave the relationship anytime. I know it sounds psychotic.

Confident guys made me nervous. Even as I grew older, lost all that weight, grew my hair out till my waist, learned how to use make up, got a dermatologist, went to speech therapy and became objectively 100x more attractive, I still felt like that “ugly” 12 year old on the inside even if i showed a very confident front. As my confidence had grown in another aspects of my life, my career, hobbies, academics were good - but men still made me nervous.

I realised that the problem was with me.

The fact that I dated men “below” my level showed what I thought of my own self, what I thought I truly deserved.

My fear stemmed from the fact of never being good enough for a man, not being beautiful enough, smart enough, fun enough. All these other girls were so seamlessly confident and I seemed to only have the fake kind of confidence.

True confidence can be spotted from a mile away.

Here’s what helped me. I began focusing on myself and began cultivating healthy platonic relationships with good men. I can never date these guys but they’re like my family now.

I think what made me sort of wary of confident, healthily masculine men was that their sense of identity was very strong. They knew what they liked and didn’t like, they knew who they were, they weren’t afraid to say what was on their mind. The last guy I was seeing projected exactly this and in that relationship (it was healthy, ended for other reasons) I felt very comfortable in my feminine. Which he was equally appreciative of. But I still felt not good enough.

You need to essentially develop friendships with men. Don’t look at them as creatures from other planets. Talk to them, make them your friend. Men are much more easier to befriend than women in my opinion - I’m always more conscious of myself around women than men. (that doesn’t mean that i don’t like being friends with women; I love my girlfriends, I feel it’s harder to impress a woman than a man).

At the same time, work on your confidence and try to figure out the root cause of why exactly you feel so uncomfortable.

Here’s another post that I had written about this topic.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Thicker Than Blood (Aemond x OC) Chapter 6

AN: I hate doing chapters based off of episodes lol. That’s why this took so long

word count: 1,652 words

Last part, next part

He sent the dress back to me and along with it, sapphire earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet.

Does he think he can win me over so easily with flattery? I don’t wish to think it but he likely can.

I put the jewellery and dress into a drawer so I can pretend it doesn’t exist and I make sure i’m all prepared for supper. Though, I hardly believe a ‘family’ meal will go very well. I can see how Aemond still holds hostility towards my brothers. I make my way down the halls in a black dress this time. Red and black, black and red; it’s all that had been packed for such an occasion. Aemond looks at me when I enter the dining room, disturbing his own conversation with his brother or rather disturbing the scolding he was giving about Aegon’s wine consumption. I take my seat next to Jacaerys and to my utter disappointment, I can see that my least favourite uncle will be sitting to my left.

 It isn’t very long before the King arrives. We all stand in silence to watch him be brought in. It is the most awkward kind of quiet that you can imagine as he is placed down between my mother and the Queen. We all sit once again, shuffling into place uncomfortably.

“How good it is… to see you all tonight… together.” My grandsire starts before seeming to lose his train of thought.

“Prayer before we begin?” Alicent offers so that her husband need not exert himself anymore.

“Yes.” He breathes out.

The prayer begins normally with the words that any pious woman would speak. The part that catches my attention is when she says, “And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.” I glance up to my stepfather who looks ever so amused.

The King goes on to speak about how it is an occasion for celebration. When he mentions the betrothals, I bite my lip and can’t help but look at Aemond whose eyes are already on me. We all toast to my siblings and I control the urge to glare as Aegon leans across me.

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman.” He smirks at his own comment and I scoff. Jacaerys clenches his jaw and takes a sip of his wine to stifle his anger.

Grandsire toasts to Lucerys as Lord of the Tides and I smile softly as Rhaena whispers words of encouragement to him.

“You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that.” Aegon whispers across to me to my brother once again.

“You ought to watch your mouth, Aegon.” I speak and he looks at me now.

“You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my sister and my betrothed.” Jace retorts but Aegon ignores him and smirks at me.

“Sad you’re not the one he’s putting his cock in?” He says quietly enough so only I hear.I feel myself fill with anger and I open my mouth to speak but the King stands to make a speech.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world… yet grown so distant from each other… in years past.” He stops to remove his golden mask and I try not to gasp at the sight of his missing eye.

Like father, like son.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight… I wish you to see me… as I am. Not just a king… but your father.” I am slightly surprised when his eyes fall to Aegon over his firstborn. “Your brother. Your husband… and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems… walk for much longer among you.” He drops the mask. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown… then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.” I can see the gears turning in my mother’s head as she hears the end of the speech. She finally decides to stand.

“I wish to raise my cup to her grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood… more loyally by his side than his good wife. She had tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, and honour. And for that, she has my gratitude… and my apology.” She finishes her toast and sits once again and we all wait for a response from my good grandmother. I watch as Alicent thinks through her response.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” Alicent stands. “I raise my cup to you… and to your house. You will make a fine queen.” And with that it is like a veil is lifted. 20 years of anger almost seem to be forgiven in a moment. We all raise our cups to each other. I look over as Aemond only raises his to me. I suppose some wounds take longer to heal.

Things seem to all be going well until Aegon speaks again. He is talking to me but I know his words are to anger my brother.

“He never would have pleased you anyway, niece. If you wish to know true satisfaction then all you have to do is ask.” I don’t let his words get to me but they get to Jacaerys, who stands and slams his hands down on the table.

“Jace.” Baela says softly all it takes is one word from her to calm him. He stands awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat and I roll my eyes as Aemond stands as well.

Stupid cock fight.

I glare at Aemond. If he’s disheartened then he doesn’t show it. Jacaerys gives Aegon a playful punch on the shoulder and begins a halfhearted speech about fond childhood memories which makes me chuckle lightly at the uncomfortable situation.

“... To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.” He grabs Aegon’s shoulder again and gives another friendly punch and the look on my uncle's face is priceless.

“To you as well.” Aegon mumbles out and Helaena mumbles something about beasts from next to him.

“Well done, my boy.” Our grandsire compliments.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena.” Helaena says as she stands. “They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you… except sometimes when he’s drunk.” I hear my stepfather laugh but I mostly just feel pity for her situation, though Aegon's embarrassment is amusing.

“Good.” Otto says something nice for once.

In an attempt to move the conversation elsewhere, the King says, “Let us have some music.”

Jacaerys clearly isn’t over the situation as he whispers “Excuse me.” to Baela and walks over to our aunt, asking her to dance. I don’t miss the look Aegon and Aemond share.

For a few moments, everything is at peace. We are all jovial and joking with each other like we never hated one another. Aemond makes no such jests. Things are almost perfect then the King seems to feel the pain of his ailments and has to be lifted out of the room. My family stands as he is taken away but the Queen assures us that it is fine to sit. Things are uncomfortable once again.

I don’t notice the roast pig until it is placed on the table. I try to ignore it and Jace is busy dancing but Luke is attentive. He smirks at the sight and I give him a warning look but I don’t catch his eye. Though, my expression does catch the eye of Aemond, who looks furious. The music stops when Aemond slams his fist down on the table as he stands.

“Final tribute.” I feel nervous as he raises his cup. “To the health of my nephews, Jace… Luke… and Joffery.” Everyone notices the lack of mention of me and our littlest brothers. “Each of them handsome, wise… strong.” 

“Aemond.” His mother scolds as I fight the urge to smack him.

“Come… let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again.” Jacaerys interjects.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?” I rise to my feet and walk slightly away from the table. Jace swiftly punches Aemond in the face and Lucerys walks over to help, Aegon slamming him into the table before he gets the chance. I see Aemond push Jacaerys to the floor as Baela and I pull Aegon off Luke. The guards finally get over to break up the fight and hold Jace and Luke back the first chance they get. I back off as Rhaena holds onto Baela who’s fighting for a chance to sink her teeth into Aegon.

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother. Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.” Aemond speaks the last part loud enough for all of us to hear it. Jace breaks free of the guard’s hold on him and lunges at Aemond again but all it takes is Daemon holding a finger up to stop his stepson in his tracks.

“Go to your quarters. All of you go, now.” Mother commands and this isn’t the time to disobey. I walk off slowly enough that I can see the silent face off between Aemond and Daemon. I’m not surprised when Aemond withdraws, following us out of the room. The evening ends up a disaster.

taglist (comment to be added): 

General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies​

Thicker than blood: @bellameshipper @g-cf2020​ @lady-of-winterfell​ @s-we-e-t-t-ea​ 

[funky-boat-zone]

alright here’s the birthday party episode analysis. keep in mind that this is all a matter of personal opinion/speculation

for those of you who don’t want to watch the episode:

the episode begins with ten cents and sunshine discussing a surprise birthday party for otis. sunshine is very insistent on keeping the party a surprise, and ten cents promises to help her keep it a secret until it’s time for the party. sunshine invites sally and zorran (and the zero fleet) and further reiterates that the party is a surprise. the episode then cuts to ten cents and otis, who is suspicious that everyone is “acting strange”. ten cents continues to keep the secret and make excuses to throw otis off his trail.

from there, top hat asks for ten cents’ attention, and ten cents accidentally lets it slip that he can’t talk to top hat right now, he’ll see him later at the party. otis immediately catches on, to which ten cents tries to cover by saying he was going to see top hat at “pier t”. otis and top hat are not impressed in the least (or even happy to hear that there’s a party), and top hat says ten cents has spoiled the surprise and immediately departs the scene to go to tell sunshine. otis outright tells ten cents that he ruined the party because it’s not a surprise anymore. ten cents apologizes to otis and promises they’ll still have the party, but otis’ engine breaks down.

sunshine shows up to the scene and is very upset with (a very remorseful) ten cents, who even says that he hates himself for spoiling the surprise. the switchers then go to captain starr to try and resolve the issue, arguing all the while as ten cents insists that he didn’t spoil the party on purpose. sunshine is still insistent that it had to be a surprise, and they may as well cancel the party. otis has seemingly calmed down and says they can just throw a surprise party another time, but sunshine still insists on blaming ten cents for not being able to keep a secret. from there we get the “what do you want me to do, sink myself?/not a bad idea!” exchange.

otis complains about listening to the switchers argue before captain star shows up to ask what’s going on. otis and sunshine explain the situation, and captain star immediately asks ten cents if he apologized. ten cents explains that he did apologize— multiple times. captain star then says that it was for the best, because now she can give otis a new engine for his birthday. she then asks sunshine to forgive ten cents, and sunshine forgives him. ten cents thanks her for forgiving him and promises to do better next time. the switchers taking otis to dry dock for repairs, with otis saying that he hates to miss a party— especially his own. the episode ends with a parade (using footage from “regatta”). otis gives a speech about how disappointed he was that his surprise was ruined, but it didn’t matter— because the real surprise was what they did for his birthday party and his friends being there.

why is this episode so uncomfortable (to me, anyway)?

i think the primary factor is that the episode completely bungles the inciting incident by having ten cents spoiling the surprise come across as a complete accident. i could understand what the episode was going for if it opened with him saying something like “i don’t see why we need to keep this a surprise, because we’ll have the party either way” and dismissing how important this is to sunshine and otis, but he doesn’t say anything like that. in the scenes leading up to it, he seemingly was trying to keep suspicion off of the party, and even tried to cover for himself after he spoiled it. he talks about how sorry he is and how “next time (he’ll) do better”, but honestly i don’t think ten cents did anything wrong in this episode— or at the very least, he didn’t do anything bad enough to warrant such a weirdly severe reaction from sunshine and otis.

there’s also the fact that salty’s lighthouse!ten cents is seemingly(?) written as a child? or at the very least, he’s one of the youngest tugs on the fleet. meanwhile, top hat and otis are characters who are written as full-grown adults even within this series, and they barely do anything to try and diffuse the switchers’ argument or make ten cents feel better when he clearly blames himself for ruining the surprise— if anything, they actively choose to make him feel worse about it! otis doesn’t even have anything to say about the “sink myself” remark, he just complains about “having to listen to (the switchers) argue”. and when otis and sunshine finally forgive ten cents, it’s seemingly only because captain star told them to— even then, they can’t resist lamenting how the surprise party was ruined in otis’ speech at the end.

this episode also heavily uses footage from “quarantine” of the original tugs, meaning that the characters look upset/disgruntled for the vast majority of the episode up until the very end. that isn’t entirely relevant though, because this episode would still come across as weirdly mean-spirited no matter what footage they used.

and i think that’s the crux of the issue; this episode wouldn’t be half as uncomfortable to me if salty’s lighthouse didn’t have such a sugary, heavily-sanitized writing style. in most episodes of the show to have an argument between characters, it usually ends with all parties apologizing to each other and making up— but that doesn’t happen here, so it just comes across as almost 6 minutes of ten cents being browbeaten into apologizing for an honest mistake and none of the other characters apologizing for how they treated him. even captain star seems to be on sunshine’s side— when sunshine tells her that ten cents ruined the surprise, she sounds pretty stern when she asks ten cents if he apologized.

anyway, salty’s lighthouse!ten cents did nothing wrong in this episode and that’s a comically-small hill i’m willing to die on. i wouldn’t necessarily call this a worse episode than the one where zorran raps, the whole episode of vegetable puns, or the one where zorran sings the abcs while stuck on a rock, but i think this episode is an uncomfortable watch in a very different way than most episodes of salty’s lighthouse and that’s why it morbidly fascinates me.

[announzingforya]

Hey hey! [Intro post number. I don’t even know at this point lmao]

Hihi! The name’s uh. many things, but I mostly go by Silhouette, Koi or Star(dust(ed))! You can see more things (which includes pronouns, other names / nicknames, honorifics and more) here if you want. Not required, but it’d be appreciated if you at least checked it out!

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I do NOT accept donation / advertisement asks. I am very, very much afraid of answering an ask and it being scam. Now, I’ll never straight up block you for sending asks unless you’re doing it repetitively and purposefully, I’ll just remove the ask and leave it be, but just keep this in mind.

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To get it over with quick, here’s a DNI, Thin Ice and BYI list.

DNI: - If you’re on any basic DNI list - If your blog is 18+, NSFW / NSFT, minors DNI, etc - If your blog is centered around any kind of discourse - If you enforce or heavily pressure your religion onto others - If you actively support something or someone that is inherently wrong - If you support AI art - If I blocked you (I blocked you for a reason. <3) - Selfcest shippers (Selfcest makes me EXTREMELY uncomfortable.) [Note that this may change overtime, and that I do NOT support Blushcrunch (Creators of Dandy’s World) or Groink (Creator of AIB) for their actions. I simply like what they have created and interact with content made by other fans.]

THIN ICE: - If you ship mirrormystery / Rodger x Glisten (I personally hc them as siblings and dislike this ship heavily. I don’t care if you do ship it, just don’t bring it up around me, please.) - If you ship host x contestant (It generally makes me uncomfy for some reason I can’t describe well. I don’t mind if you ship anything of the sort as long as it ain’t problematic, just don’t bring it up to me pls.) [This may be updated in the future. This is all I have for now.]

BYI / NOTES: - I am a minor! This is extremely important. Don’t be weird or you’re getting blocked, especially if you’re an adult. - I most likely have anger / emotional issues and I can get extremely emotional and pissed off pretty quick. I’m sorry if I cause anything bad to happen because my emotions are extremely chaotic and basically control how I act n stuff. - I am a huuuge mess, and a ping pong ball is constantly bouncing around in my brain - I probably have adhd, more specifically hyperactive impulsive adhd. I am not diagnosed (though I really want to get diagnosed), but I have done a decent amount of research to assume this, so please keep that in mind. - Tone tags are essentially my life support. Please use them or some other indicator for tone, since I can’t understand it unless it’s very blatantly being shoved in my face. - Anything I hyperfixate on something, you’re 100% going to notice by my reblogs. I will flood your page lol - I will like and mass reblog posts a lot!! If you don’t like this, please let me know. - At times, I will randomly condense my speech. If you can’t understand, I’ll fix that! - I refer to characters I really like or relate to a lot as “me”, especially Pitchfork from AIB and Razzle and Dazzle from Dandy’s World. If you ever have a problem with this, PLEASE let me know. I myself am not a fictionkin, fictive or anything of the sort, so if this ever becomes a problem to you I’ll change it asap. - I can’t read things right sometimes. Be patient with me I’ll get it eventually lmao

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I use my own personal tags when making posts every once in a while! These tags will be listed below.

-.River’s shenanigans (Kind of a shitposting tag. Basically just dumb or silly things I post.) - River’s art (My art tag! NOT TO BE USED BY AI.) - River’s ask responses (My responses to things I get in my inbox!) - River’s thoughts (Kind of a vent tag atp, originally and sometimes used as a marker to indicate that I’m posting about things on my mind. Not used often.) - River’s writing (My writing! Read TWs on posts if needed.)

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Fandoms, interests and hyperfixations! I’m in quite a few communities in the moment. Some of these are:

-.Object shows (more specifically AIB) - Dandy’s World - Just Shapes n Beats - The Pink Corruption (I consider them two different things. If you don’t like this, don’t fight me over it; just DNI and move on, please.) - Pikuniku (Is there even a Pikuniku fandom-?) - Bugbo - Sprunki - Pressure - Blocktales - The Robloxia: Until Dawn

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Lastly, here’s a few funky lil userboxes. Thank you for reading! [Credits to the userboxes in order: 1 (me!), 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]

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Preferably like / interact with this post if you’ve read it, but I’m not forcin ya.

[soulgazingwithbucky]

Chances (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent!F!Reader

Summary: For most, life is too short to miss any chances. For Steve Rogers, life is too long to take all of them.

Warnings: swearing; mentions of blood, gun use, violence; unhappy ending (alternate ending needed?!)

Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: hey everyone i have a crush i cant do anything about so i made it everyone's problem in the form of this fic. also i swear bucky's coming back to my writing with a vengeance

“Coulson, slow down,” you grumble. The clock reads an ungodly hour, and Coulson’s near-incomprehensible speech only propels you further into half-conscious annoyance.

“Get up,” Phil urges. “We found him.”

⋆⋆⋆

You lean in, ears straining as Captain America addresses Agent Horowitz.

“Where am I, really?” he says.

Your eyes dart back and forth between several screens.

“Shit,” Fury hisses. A moment later, you hear the door slam behind you.

“Told you!” you call after him as Horowitz reports a Code 13.

You turn around to look at Hill, who watches the monitors with her arms across her chest.

“I told him,” you say as Captain America breaks through the walls, shoving agents to the ground.

⋆⋆⋆

Fury takes a seat beside you with a huff.

With your eyes on your computer, you start, “I–”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

Maria peers at you over her screen, flashing you a barely-there smirk. You instead ask a question to satiate your curiosity.

“Is…he okay?”

Fury gives an exasperated shrug.

“Said he had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

“How’s the apartment, Captain Rogers?” Fury asks. Across the desk, Steve sits, shifting uncomfortably as the chair struggles under his frame.

“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes flitting between all the different objects in Fury’s office. You and Maria share a look.

“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asks.

“Trying.”

“Well, we have another meeting to run to, Captain,” Fury says, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The agents have a gym in the basement, and the dining facility is on the tenth floor.”

He stands up; you and Maria follow closely behind.

There’s no meeting. You had planned to spend an hour with Captain Rogers, but it’s clear there isn’t much to say. You look back at Steve with his head low, his back hunched.

“What do we do, Fury?” you ask, closing the door behind you.

“Give him time.”

While Hill and Fury retreat to their offices, you change into your workout clothes and make your way to the basement. You’re surprised to step out of the elevator and see an impossibly muscular frame standing by the gym entrance.

“Captain,” you greet. He’s peering past the glass with a slight grimace, staring at the equipment–fancy, shiny things with a thousand buttons each.

“Agent,” he responds, replacing his uncomfortable expression with a solemn nod.

“Nice, isn’t it?” you say, standing beside him to observe the room together.

He chuckles, more out of astonishment than anything.

“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes shift downwards at his feet before peering back up, watching your coworkers sprint on the treadmill or re-rack their weights. “It’s something.”

“What are you gonna do?” you say, eyeing the leg press machine that’s calling your name. You look over at Steve just as he glances at the punching bag. He opens his mouth to answer you, but then he notices the odd wires coming from behind the bag, the complicated mat beneath that seems to be flashing at least five different colors. He closes his mouth and instead shakes his head.

“Just giving myself a tour,” he answers.

You tilt your head at his fib.

“You got a minute?” you ask, your request earning a raised eyebrow.

⋆⋆⋆

“Migs!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up at the sight of the combat gym owner.

He yells your name in response as you meet in front of his business’s entrance.

“Appreciate it, Migs,” you say as the older gentleman pulls you into a side hug. You wrap your arm around his back, returning the embrace.

“Anything for you, kiddo,” Miguel, a near-father figure who has a few decades on you, responds as he unlocks the gym door.

Behind you, Steve smiles at the friendly exchange. He stays a good distance away, partly out of respect and partly out of caution.

Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the man built like a linebacker with striking movie-star looks.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Miguel demands, gesturing at the hero in the shadows. Steve blinks in surprise. In the past few weeks, he has been the center of attention–not unlike his life before the ice, but somehow completely unlike it at the same time. Despite his longing to be invisible once again, he’s taken aback that someone doesn’t recognize him.

“A friend,” you tell him, shooting Steve a wink. He smiles, welcoming the anonymity.

Miguel turns on the lights, illuminating the gym in dim orange. Steve steps in, admiring the weathered facility. Surrounded by muted walls, a dusty floor, and tattered boxing ropes, he feels a sense of comfort that’s completely novel to him since coming out of the ice.

Miguel takes all of thirty seconds to show the captain around.

“We got mitts, gloves on the rack over there,” he says, keys jingling as he gestures around him. “Boxing ring with a round timer, obviously. Uhhhh, jump ropes, elliptical–if it’s working. And then you got the bags…Oh, and we also got one-on-one training-” Miguel pauses, scanning Steve from head to toe “-if you need that sorta thing.”

Steve chuckles, murmuring his gratitude.

“You need anything else, ace?” Miguel asks you.

You shake your head. “Just sign up my friend for a membership, and we’ll be good.”

Steve’s head snaps up at your request. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

As Miguel passes you an application on a clipboard, you say, “Good thing you didn’t ask.”

⋆⋆⋆

“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Steve tells you, gesturing for the waiter as you slide into the booth.

“Not at all,” you say, still catching your breath from hurrying over. You’re not sure why the captain has called you, but you know it has to be important. Steve’s eyes drift to your brow, where a butterfly bandage holds a wound closed.

“That Loki’s a fun one,” you say, bringing a hand to the injury. You don’t feel the need to indulge him in the details of nearly getting buried underneath a collapsing building. “Is everything okay, Captain?”

“Steve, please,” he insists.

“Is everything okay…Steve?” Though you’ve seen the captain’s name printed in briefs and articles a million times, it feels odd to address him by name. “Miguel didn’t try to charge you that ridiculous sweating fee?”

He lets out an amused exhale through his nose and shakes his head.

“It’s funny you mention Loki. I…wanted to ask your opinion. On the Avengers Initiative.”

Surprise paints your face. You weren’t expecting to be Captain America’s advisor tonight. But you lean back and sigh with the weight of his request. Your waiter comes to take your order, giving you a few moments of reprieve.

“I know what Fury would want me to say,” you say after your waiter exits.

He leans forward, resting clasped hands on the table.

“I want to know what you want to say,” he implores, his piercing gaze making it difficult to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath.

“I think…you need time to heal,” you begin. “To recover. I mean, not like I’ve got the experience, but something tells me you don’t wake up after seventy years fully assimilated. In a perfect world, you would get all the time you need to be okay before getting back out into the world, let alone saving it.”

He knows the answer, but he presses, “And what world is this?”

The words feel heavy on your tongue.

“One that needs you.”

You watch his troubled eyes, the twitch of his lip.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” you say.

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself.

He looks up at you, repeating: “Yeah. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

“Glad I could help,” you say. You peek over his head, trying to peer into the kitchen. Steve nudges his plate towards you, and you gratefully take a few of his fries.

⋆⋆⋆

“Dillard, find out what’s going on in Bay 3 for me. So what do you think?”

The upper half of your body is hidden under thick pipes. You peer closely at the maze of metal, willing the leak to show itself.

“He’s…cute.”

You lift your head to look at Nat. The loud bang echoes throughout the room as your head meets pipes. You wince, dragging yourself out of the underbelly of Helicarrier plumbing. Nat raises an eyebrow as you rub your head.

“Not what I thought you were going to say,” you reply. 

“So you disagree?” she says, tilting her head.

“Uh. No?” you say, tapping nervously on the wrench. She smiles as you avert your gaze. “How are the…other ones? Thor and Dr. Banner and the rest?”

“I should probably make sure they’re not tearing each other apart,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “You coming?”

You look around you. The hull is so much quieter than the rest of the carrier, allowing you to bask in comfortable silence while you and your crew work.

“Nah. Hill is better at that kinda stuff. I’ll be here if you need me.”

⋆⋆⋆

Above you, the ceiling shakes slightly, scattering dust around you. You stand up slowly, the sound of distant rumbling calling your attention.

“All hands to stations.”

“Shit!” you cry, dropping your tools and sprinting up the stairs.

Agents are running all around you, and the hallway is flooded in flashing red. You have no idea what’s going on, but you rush to the weapons room, ready to defend the Helicarrier from god-knows-what.

You crash into someone’s shoulder, the force sending you spinning to the ground. Strong hands grasp your arms, lifting you to your feet.

“Sorry,” Steve says between breaths.

“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”

“Under attack. Be safe. Check in later.”

“Copy that.”

He clasps your shoulders again before disappearing into the crowd of agents. You watch him for a second before turning around, continuing on to the weapons room.

Agent Weaver catches up to you.

“First name basis, huh?”

“Shut up.”

⋆⋆⋆

You hesitate before rapping on the door three times.

Steve greets you with a smile. Beads of water are dripping from his hair down his neck.  He’s in sweatpants and a white tee that could definitely be sized up. As you enter his apartment, he hands you a takeout container.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he closes the door behind you.

“Well, when you bribe me with shawarma…”

He laughs, but he’s rubbing his hands together and crinkling his eyebrows. You set your food down and plant yourself in front of him.

“Hey, it’s just a debrief,” you tell him, wrapping your hands around his biceps. Your touch brings him back to reality. “It’s no big deal. Fury just talks for an hour.”

“Yeah, it’s…been a while since one of these, I guess.” He tries to laugh it off.

You leave his side, sitting down at the dining room table.

“If it makes you feel better, you did about two million dollars less damage than Bruce and Thor.”

“It’s not that.” He throws himself on the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. “I guess authority has never been a big fan of me.”

“Authority doesn’t get along with Captain America?”

“Authority doesn’t get along with the punk that lied about fifty times to get into the military.”

You speak between bites: “Then you must’ve gotten along with Tony Stark. Wonder why Nat said you had your panties in a twist over him.”

He perks up, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “She said that? Exactly like that?”

You snicker at his sudden interest, choking on a slice of tomato. “Does that bother you?” you tease.

He concedes, leaning back on the couch’s arm. “That Stark is something else. I wonder what Peggy would say if she knew I almost fought Howard’s son.” Steve stares at a spot on the wall, his mind a flurry of what-ifs.

⋆⋆⋆

Ambush. You’ve been tasked to partner with Captain America for his first official SHIELD assignment, and it’s a fucking ambush.

“Stay close,” the captain says.

Steve tosses his shield at someone behind you. You hear them slump to the ground while another approaches; the shield narrowly misses you as you duck and sweep your leg out, causing a third henchman to crash to the floor.

“Watch it!” you say before Steve knocks you to the ground, shielding your body while a whizz of bullets flying past.

“Guess someone has to,” Steve shoots back before pulling you up. You roll your eyes as you unholster two weapons on your belt, one pointed to your left and the other pointed behind you. You pull both triggers without batting an eye. You don’t bother looking; Steve’s mesmerized expression confirms that you’ve hit your targets.

Steve is speechless. He has never seen you in battle before, and it’s–

“Six o’clock, Rogers!” you say, causing the hero to duck down as you aim a bullet at a man sprinting towards you. You hear yet another coming from behind, and you aim a bullet at Steve’s shield. You turn just in time to see the ricocheted bullet take out the last goon.

Knowing you were safe, you let out a fatigued sigh and pat your newest coworker on the shoulder.

“Welcome to SHIELD, Cap.”

⋆⋆⋆

Macau was absolutely beautiful, but the jet lag never quite wore off, especially when your tasks still catered to Eastern fucking Standard Time. As much as you could appreciate the change of pace, you hoped Fury would never give you an assignment like this again.

- idk steve, seems a little unfair to assign me to track the train in vancouver when i was assigned the lemurian star just a couple weeks ago. did you KNOW what time it was over here?!

- anyway, im going to bed. night!

- You've only told me a hundred times. I’m glad it was you helping us out, even if you had to track the Star from thousands of miles away.

- Good night. Sweet dreams.

- :)

You smile at the three notifications on your phone. Tucking yourself under the covers, you reach over to turn off your night lamp.

Ring ring ring.

Maria’s name on your phone earns a prolonged groan from you. So first they schedule meetings at all hours, and now they expect you to pick up the phone at every possible second.

“Hill, I love you, but I swear to god–”

“You remember that sushi place? The one on 10th Avenue?”

You feel a sudden sweat forming on your brow, even though the air conditioner is blasting. You had first heard the coded emergency message years ago, when you first trained for SHIELD. Never did you think it would actually be used.

You clear your throat, forcing your voice to steady.

“Yes, we were there with your mom and your grandma.”

Is someone listening? Are you okay? Who compromised SHIELD?

“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Maria’s voice betrays nothing before she hangs up the call.

You only brought a duffel bag to Macau, and you’re now shoving it full of underwear and clothes. 

Wait, honestly, fuck it–Hill’s call told you scatter immediately, who the fuck cares if you had enough shirts?

You leave the SHIELD-sanctioned apartment, tossing your phone into a nearby garbage bin. You think of Nat, of Fury, of Steve. You wonder if they’re okay, but you have to settle for never knowing.

⋆⋆⋆

Red pixels fill your screen, slowly sharpening into a familiar face.

“Nat,” you gasp. Any suspicion about the unknown number on your burner phone melts away.

“Hey,” she says. She delivers her greeting with the nonchalance of a friend who has just seen you for brunch. “If you were a traitor, you would tell me, right?”

You match her lopsided smile. “No, of course not. Hey, what’s your social security number again?”

Natasha laughs, but her joy dissipates quickly.

“Nat? What’s been going on?”

On your end, you’ve been on the run, though you never quite knew who you were running from. You’ve had no contact with your coworkers since you received the call from Hill. You’ve heard various rumors, but you haven’t had the comfort of confirming their truth.

She peers somewhere off camera.

“A lot.”

She turns back to you, continuing: “He…hasn’t been good.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

You hold your breath as Nat stands up, willing her shaky camera work to still. You can barely make out their bare environment, lighted only by bars of fluorescent light.

“Maybe he should tell you himself.”

You watch as Nat hands over the phone. Steve looks up at her in confusion before turning towards her device. You see the relief flood his features. He says your name like it’s a breath of air after being held underwater.

“Steve,” you greet softly. “Are you okay?”

Steve presses his lips together. His eyes become dazed as he tries to find the words. After a few moments, you say his name again.

“I had a friend.

“A best friend,” he begins. “I thought I lost him.”

He hangs his head, and for a moment, all you see are strings of blonde hair.

“But the truth is much worse.”

The last time you had spoken, Steve was an explosion of excitement, practically setting the world record for longest run-on sentence as he told you Peggy was alive. Now, your heart breaks at the sight of the dejected hero.

“He doesn’t even remember me,” Steve continues.

You want to cry for Steve and tell him everything will be okay. You want to invite him into your arms and hold him. Instead, something tells you to push that aside. You grit your teeth; your grip is tight on your phone. You have half a mind to book a plane ticket to…you don’t even know where they are, but you want to be there, dammit.

“Then do something he won’t forget, Steve.”

⋆⋆⋆

You rush through the halls, dodging white coats and crash carts. 

Room 311, room 311, room 311…

An armed guard reaches out to stop you before recognition settles. You glare at him, but the delay causes you to rethink storming into the hospital room after Steve’s near-death experience. You peer at him through the window, pressing your hand onto the glass. With the stitches along his cheek, the bruising on his jaw, and the scrapes along his browline, he looks…fallible. Vulnerable. Human.

You make eye contact with the man sitting beside him. He looks unfamiliar to you, but the bruises and cuts on his face tell you enough. He gives you a slow nod before turning back to his book.

⋆⋆⋆

You and Steve lean in closely, pretending to be deep in conversation while you keep a watchful eye on Bruce and Nat. You lean against the Stark Tower wall while Steve stands in front of you.

“I knew it,” he whispers, testing the limits of his peripheral vision as he peers at his friends.

“Yeah?” you say, taking a sip from the flute of champagne.

He turns his attention away from the two to face you. “One hundred percent. It was a perk of being friends with Bucky–I could see the girls drooling from a mile away.”

“And if they were drooling for you?” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah. Right,” he says, his eyebrows shifting upwards in disbelief as he takes a sip from his own drink.

“Maybe you just couldn’t tell,” you inform him.

“I think I would know, agent,” he tells you.

You reach out to adjust the collar of his shirt. As you pull away, your fingertips brush against his neck.

“I guess you would, captain.”

He gives you that dazzling, all-American smile before glancing at the bar. Nat looks up at the same time, locking eyes with Steve. He turns back to you abruptly, slamming his hand on the wall by your head in feigned nonchalance.

“Real subtle, Rogers,” you tell him. Tony rolls his eyes at the sight of you pinned beneath the captain’s body.

Steve drops his head, and you feel his hair graze your forehead. You’re glad he’s too engrossed in his embarrassment to notice that his proximity has made you dizzy.

“Shit,” he murmurs, stepping away. “Sorry.”

“Romanoff!” you call with a smirk. “Get the swear jar!”

⋆⋆⋆

“Can we talk about the mall again?” you question. So what if your words are slurring together a little, who cares?

Nat tucks her chin, willing you to continue with expectant eyes.

“So you mean to tell me…,” you begin slowly.

“Yes.”

“You look like that…And Steve looks like that…”

“Sure.”

“And your solution to avoid attention was to…”

“Kiss.”

“Kiss, right.”

You and Nat share a look before devolving into a fit of laughter.

“And it–”

“–worked!” Nat finishes. She takes a swig of her beer. “I’m good at what I do, agent. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your eyes drop to the floor. You fiddle with the rim of your glass, before telling your friend:

“Tell me it meant nothing.”

Nat looks at Bruce, who has tucked himself between Dr. Cho and Clint. He looks on as Rhodey shares a familiar story, smiling and chuckling at all the right parts. He feels her eyes on him, and he gives her a smile that feels like home.

Her eyes move to Steve next, America’s hero for the better part of a century. He’s unmistakable. He commands attention, and he deserves it, too. He stands tall, knowing the world is always watching.

Finally, her gaze lands on you. You’re incredibly capable, magnificently skilled, and you would deny it all in a second. Her most humble friend, who declines the most notorious assignments to bask in the solace of the less glamorous work instead.

She reaches over the bar to place her hand atop yours. With all due respect, fuck Lillian with the lip piercing, and fuck Kristen from Accounting. Steve’s perfect match is right in front of her.

⋆⋆⋆

You feel your airways functioning again as the weight of the couch is lifted off of you. You swallow lungfuls of air, and the sudden intake causes you to choke and cough. Warmth radiates from strong hands on either sides of your head.

“Hey,” Steve croons. “Hey, I’m here.”

“Actually, I wedged myself between the couch and the floor,” you groan through the sharp pain in your ribs, “in hopes that Thor would rescue me from the big metal man.”

Your poorly-timed joke catches Steve off guard, and he finds himself laughing as he searches you for any hidden injuries.

“Yeah, you definitely have a concussion.”

⋆⋆⋆

You watch as the unfamiliar number blinks on your phone, but something compels you to answer. Steve’s face appears on your screen, an apologetic smile painting his face. The last you heard, the Avengers were following a lead on Ultron before going dark.

“Steve! Are you okay?”

He peers around him. You can make out a sunny window, rustic decor…is that a child’s toy?

“I can’t stay for long,” he says. “But–yes. We’ll…figure it out.”

He sees the concern on your face, and he knows what you’re about to say:

“What can I do?”

“Lay low,” he says, almost immediately, recalling how Ultron nearly ended your life with Stark’s god-awful furniture. “Keep yourself safe.”

You rub your temples. It’s as if you’re being dragged back to SHIELD’s dissolution, hurtled into a life of mystery and solitude that you hadn’t asked for.

You see a wave of red as Nat pushes her head in between Steve and the camera.

“At least five bad language words since we got here, agent,” she says. You laugh, already picturing the look Steve is giving her behind her curtain of curls. “Wish you were here.”

“Me too.”

Steve watches her walk off, and then waits a few moments longer.

“I saw her,” he tells you, his face dropping all signs of amusement.

You shake your head, trying to piece together what Steve wants to tell you.

“She said the war was over, that we could go home,” he continues. “Then I was back, here. On the ground. Alone.”

“You’re not alone, Steve,” you insist.

But he doesn’t quite hear you.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve scoots into the booth, unbuttoning his black suit jacket. You take the seat right beside him. He lets out a subdued sniff and asks you how the convention went.

“I know the world needs you to be big and strong,” you tell him, “but I don’t.”

You open your arms, and he chuckles before resting his head on your shoulder. You envelop him in a hug, rubbing his back.

“Never ask me about those boring fucking conventions again,” you murmur, feeling his tears fall onto the shoulder of your blouse. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Steve.”

Steve fishes around his pocket and brings out his compass. At the press of a button, it opens, revealing a photograph of Peggy. She looked breathtaking, with her strong jawline, perfect curls, and fierce gaze. Steve hesitates, then passes the device to you. You move your arm from Steve to hold the memento with both hands. You run your finger over the photo’s fading edges.

“And she liked you?” you jest to cover the emotions that are running through you. Why are tears prickling your eyes?

“Once,” Steve responds with a chuckle as you pass him back his most prized possession, “a long time ago.”

He sits up, stiffening. Before you can question the change of demeanor, he confesses, “I…can’t sign the Accords.”

You give him a faint smile, as if it hasn’t been the topic of discussion at the Madrid convention. You were more than happy to meet him in London, especially if it meant getting away from chatty politicians with pesky questions.

“I know, Steve,” you say, holding his face in your hands. You run your thumb down his cheek, erasing a drying line of tears. You ignore how the air leaves your lungs as Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. “I know.”

⋆⋆⋆

“You’re too good to be down here, agent.”

Sharon pauses her scribbling to punctuate her sentence with a smile.

“You know this is where I like it,” you tell her from the other side of the bulletproof panel. Sharon slides the sign-out sheet back to you. You stifle a laugh as you read that Go Fuck Yourself has signed out two quantities of kiss my ass. Right before you buzz her into weapons lockup, she stops you.

“Wait,” she says abruptly, startling you. “Are you sure?”

Since the day you took him to the boxing gym, you have become Steve’s safe place. In times of need, on the run with Nat or holed up in Clint’s home, he desperately wished you were there. Never mind the comforting touch or the distracting joke, just your presence beside him was enough to turn the weight of the world into a bag of feathers.

Now, Steve has called in a favor. Get the shield and the wings to Sharon, and she’ll cover the rest. No big deal, just betray the federal entity you work for and be indefinitely on the lam. Run, and don’t take any chances.

“Never been more sure in my life.”

You press the button harder than you need to, and the door swings open. Sharon steps through, taking in the towering rows of weapons.

“Whoa,” she says. The massive basement room was the perfect place to house all of the CIA’s most dangerous arms, including Captain America’s shield and the Falcon’s wings.

You lead Sharon through shelves of alien technology and massive guns.

“Might’ve been less sure if I had a metal hand punching me into the wall, though,” you say, looking back at her as she tries to rub out the pain in her back.

She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m glad you were far away from that mess,” she says earnestly.

“Didn’t really have a choice. When we went into lockdown, I was shut in.”

You shudder as you remember the weapons rooms’ light cutting out suddenly, plunging you into darkness. An agent had announced a code red over the walkie, and you sprinted towards the door–just in time to watch the metal gates slam down. You had pounded on the metal, desperate to escape. Your gut told you what–or rather, who–played a role in the Code Red.

You grunt as you pull on the box. It falls to the floor with less grace than you hoped, and Sharon tugs it open. She lights up at the sight of the vibranium shield, her smile wide and her eyes bright. She catches your eye and immediately drops her smile.

With a shake of her head, she apologizes and says, “Um…thank you.”

⋆⋆⋆

“West entrance, thirty seconds,” Nat tells you. You hear her tapping on her keyboard, and the doors in front of you hiss open. You creep quietly into the darkness of the Raft corridor, with Steve following closely behind.

Steve presses his fingers to his ear.  “We’re in.”

“Wait for my signal,” Nat murmurs. “You have three minutes to take down the guards, then about five minutes after that before their backup arrives.”

“Eight minutes?” you say incredulously. “Steve, she thinks we’re amateurs.”

Nat snickers from the comforts of the Quinjet. “Just know, if you get caught, I’ll sleep soundly knowing I left both of your asses behind.”

You feign a horrified gasp. “Steve! Cover your ears!”

You don’t have to see him to know Steve is currently tilting his head in disbelief.

Nat cuts off any retort he might have had: “And now.”

You and Steve move in unison. He takes a boot to the door, and you spare no time to fire a hailstorm of bullets into the room. Your attack disarms several guards and destroys the audiovisual equipment. Steve tosses his shield around the room, and it bounces off the remaining guards, knocking them to their feet.

You place your foot on a guard’s chest, nodding at Steve.

“I’ll keep them here.”

The captain disappears into the cell block. You can hear the distant sounds of Steve breaking through jail bars, followed by triumphant cheers and joyous reunions.

Your earpiece crackles; Nat is switching you both to a different channel.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” she tells you.

You stare past the doorway, not quite sure how to respond. She continues: “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again. We’re fugitives now.”

A few minutes later, Steve reappears, a proud smile on his face.

“They’re headed to the jet,” he says. “We did it.”

You force a smile back at him as he leads you out of the room. His arm extends to your waist and you hold your breath; but, he continues reaching until he can close the door behind you and break off the doorknob. As he pulls away, you capture your hand in his. You love the way he laces his fingers between yours, almost reflexively.

“Steve…”

We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.

His eyebrows scrunch in concern. Were you injured? Did a guard send out an emergency signal? But your expression tells a different story; his cool blue eyes could bore holes into your skull. You can only stammer, so Steve speaks instead.

“Wherever you go,” he says, unlacing his hands to instead place it on your cheek, “I can always be there. You just say the word.”

You close your eyes. You won’t know when you’ll see him again, and you lean into his touch, pressing his hand harder into your cheek.

“Two minutes,” Nat’s voice, barely audible, comes over your earpieces.

Steve pulls you into a hug.

“Check in. Stay close. Don’t take any chances,” he whispers.

How could you? The biggest chance you could’ve taken just slipped through your fingers.

⋆⋆⋆

“Oh my god! Thor?!”

Steve practically scoffs, scratching at his beard.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “How are you?”

“As good as I could be,” you say. You look around the feeble apartment, a micro-studio with a bed and a kitchenette. You landed in Shanghai after abandoning post, figuring one of the most populous cities in the world would be the perfect place to go into hiding.

Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer.

“I’m so sorry.”

“That a grown woman made a decision?” you scoff. “Sure, I forgive you, then.”

You raise a chuckle from him, and he feels that familiar sensation of relief and comfort at the sound of your voice. Steve made you a vagabond, but you held on tight to your favorite title of smartass.

“How about you?” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he says, pushing long strands of hair away from his face.

“You with Sam? Nat?”

“Nearby.”

“Bucky?”

“With a friend.”

You blow through your lips.

“Sharon?” You say your friend’s name as if it were a throwaway line.

Steve squints at you through the screen, and you shift uncomfortably on your mattress. Your eyes dart everywhere–anywhere but your phone–while you wait for his response.

“No,” he answers. “No idea where she is.”

You purse your lips. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, and you feel an odd mixture of happy and sad all at once.

“Are you just checking in?” Steve wonders. “Or–?”

“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “Checking in.”

Silence settles for a few moments, before Steve tells you: “I wish you were here.”

You give him a measly “me too” and a sad smile.

“Soon?” you offer, though it’s the emptiest promise you’ve ever given.

“Soon,” is his response, the biggest lie he’s ever told.

⋆⋆⋆

You promptly withdraw your pocket pistol, peering around the corner. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the CIA found you, but, damn, you just got to Cape Town. With your finger on the trigger, you step out of your hiding spot…

…and are greeted by familiar blue eyes.

“You said stay close, right?” Steve says with a smile.

You call for him breathlessly. Your body suddenly feels like jello and your knees threaten to buckle underneath you. Your gun nearly slips from your grasp as you run forward, right into Steve’s welcoming arms. He locks you in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. You feel your feet leave the ground as Steve lifts you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to burst into tears.

With only the occasional video call being your only form of communication, you’ve nearly forgotten what Steve looks like from the shoulders down. When he puts you down, you hold him at arm’s length and stare, as if you’re trying to commit him to memory.

“Steve,” you say his name again, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he’s really here. You shake your head vigorously. “You can’t be here–it’s too dangerous–”

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I couldn’t go without you.”

“Go where?”

⋆⋆⋆

You squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft passes through the translucent panels. When you open your eyes, the panels are behind you. The warrior piloting the plane smiles at your shock.

Steve watches you the whole time, captured by the sense of wonder painted on your face. He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.

“Welcome to Wakanda.”

A small welcoming committee smiles brightly as you and Steve step off of the aircraft. Steve goes straight to a man with a bun, while the other two approach you.

“Greetings, agent,” the king greets you. “I am–”

“King T’Challa,” you say, meeting his handshake with fervency. “Your highness, it’s an honor.”

“The honor is all mine,” T’Challa responds with a smile. He gestures to the younger woman beside him. “And this is Princess Shuri, my sister.”

“Princess,” you greet. You reach your hand out, but quickly shift into a fist bump as Shuri reaches out a closed fist.

“Agent,” she responds with a grin. “I hope you will find your stay enjoyable.”

“Are you kidding me?” you say, then realizing you’re speaking much too casually for royalty. “I mean–the plane ride was easily the most luxurious experience of my life. I’m not sure how you’ll get me to leave.” Shuri’s grin spreads wider.

“I apologize, but we must be going,” T’Challa says. “But you have everything that you need, I assure you.”

You peer over at Steve, who grips the brunette’s shoulder as he laughs.

“And if you don’t,” Shuri calls as she and her brother take their leave, “you can ask any of the bald, mean-looking women.”

“Shuri!”

“They’re the Dora Milaje,” the man beside Steve explains as they approach you, “Wakanda’s elite warriors.”

Steve chest swells with pride as he introduces, “This is Bucky. My best friend.”

Bucky’s shakes your hand. He doesn’t wait for you to introduce yourself, instead saying your name to you.

“Heard a lot,” Bucky says with a smile. You glance at Steve, surprised that you’ve been a topic of discussion for the two.

“All good things,” Steve says, grinning at his best friend.

“Oh, great things,” Bucky adds assuredly as you feel your ears burning.

⋆⋆⋆

Ayo, one of the warriors, spares a few moments to meet you and Steve. She stands solemnly as you sit on the grass, your palms rested behind you.

“Bucky is, um…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask if the man is still capable of snapping your neck without an ounce of regret.

“We are working on it,” she says, keeping her eyes forward. You follow her gaze, watching as a group of children do and redo the best friends’ hair. Steve’s hair is first in a high ponytail, then two low buns. He catches your eye and waves, a wide grin on his face. You wave back as he and Bucky laugh at each other’s hairstyles.

Ayo follows Steve’s gaze back to you.

“We had arranged two bedrooms…”

You sit up straight with wide eyes.

“Th- And that’s totally fine.”

“It is no issue.”

Ayo walks away as Steve chases some of the children, feigning fatigue as they run away giggling.

“It’s a good look for him,” Bucky comments. Bucky is eyeing the three ponytails on top of his best friend’s head, but you’re taking in the sight of Steve consoling a child who has fallen. He gestures elaborately, as if casting a magic spell on the scrape. The child laughs and runs away, instantly remedied.

“It is,” you murmur.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you clear your throat. “Was–Was he like this before, too?”

Bucky cheeks puff as he releases an exaggerated exhale. “Hell no.”

“No?”

“Worse, so much worse. Insufferable, really.”

Steve jogs up to you. “They call you White Wolf, Buck? Do we all get nicknames?”

“Maybe,” Bucky says with a shrug. “You could be…”

“White Man,” you offer, earning a disbelieving look from Steve and a hearty laugh from Bucky.

“Or,” Bucky says, “I can tell them that Peggy called you–”

Steve shoves his friend, earning another laugh from the brunette.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve leans his forearm against the window. Below, the city lights dance, bright glimmers against an otherwise dark night.

“It’s good for him here,” he tells you with a smile on his lips.

“Wakanda looks good on you, too,” you say. The bed shifts as you stand up, joining Steve at the window. Wakanda is absolutely beautiful, and you understand why the country is hidden away from the rest of the world. “Maybe you should stay here.”

“Maybe we should,” he suggests, “but clearly their space is limited.”

You and Steve peer back at the singular bed that occupies the room.

“I told Ayo–”

“And I told Bucky–”

“It’s no big deal, right?”

“Right,” Steve says, mirroring your doubtful tone.

You both gingerly approach, like two idiots who have never seen a bed before. He cautiously approaches one side while you approach the other, slipping in and leaving as much space between you as possible. Steve scoots closer ever so slightly, but grabs a pillow, fluffing it and placing it between you two.

You and Steve spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling until your eyes form warped images in the darkness. Eventually, he sighs. You turn to ask him what’s wrong, but instead see him take the pillow and toss it across the room.

“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling you into his muscled chest.

“Language,” you mutter. But your eyelids already feel droopy as sleep pulls you under. Tonight, sleep smells like sandalwood and feels like heaven. Tonight, your dreams are blonde wisps and bright eyes that threaten to pull you into the ocean deep.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve is just broad shoulders and sullen disposition from your spot in the darkness.

“...Tony Stark, also known as the hero Iron Man, has been reported missing…”

“Get your things, Steve,” you say, stepping out from the shadows.

You’re the only thing that can pull Steve away from his racing thoughts. He forces his eyes off the screen, away from the image of a grinning Tony.

“Where are we going?” he says as you reach out to tug on his shoulder, a silent urge to gather his things. His hand finds a home over yours, holding it in place.

“Edinburgh.”

⋆⋆⋆

You start the search again, maybe the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.

The bar slowly fills up, reaching one hundred percent…

No results found.

“Nothing, Steve,” you tell him, your voice hoarse. Thanos might as well have vanished.

The captain is still for a moment before his hand comes down on the console table. After the glass breaks and the books clatter, you can only hear Steve’s deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. He takes long strides towards the door.

No results found.

“Steve–don’t take any chances. We’ll find him,” you say pleadingly. “He knows we’ll find him.”

As Steve mourned Bucky back in 1944, he wished he had something to bury. A final home for his best friend. A meeting place for him to visit. Something, anything to remember him by. Now he has his ashes, and he realizes how stupid he was to think it would bring him any relief.

No results found.

“Then he should be here to tell me himself.”

You flinch as the door slams shut behind him.

⋆⋆⋆

You pull a brown plaid shirt from Steve’s closet. You hold it up to his frame.

“I should’ve told you this eleven years ago,” you say as you pull the shirt off its hanger, “but you should really size up.”

He chuckles as he takes the shirt from you, slipping it through his arms. You begin to button the shirt as Steve looks on through the mirror. These days, he’s not quite sure who it is looking back at him.

“I don’t know what to tell them,” he says. If he wasn’t so numb, he might feel anxious. His stomach may have flipped at the thought of the support group sitting in a melancholic circle, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.

You give him a sad smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He captures your hands in his before you can pull away.

“Tell them what you told me,” you say, and your hands slowly slip from his grasp. “About Peggy.” You give one final tug on his shirt before sending him on his way.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve looks anxious at your weekly dinner. He pushes around the contents of his plate without taking a single bite. You watch him, waiting for him to speak. When nothing ever comes, you ask him yourself. He drops his fork, finally stopping his nervous assault on his sliced carrots. He can’t stop thinking of Scott Lang, waving at him from the security cameras.

“What have you heard about…time travel?”

⋆⋆⋆

“Buck, can I…talk to you?”

Steve’s hesitant question causes you to put down the bandage. You’re not quite sure why Steve called you to the compound at this hour, and you’re even more unsure of why he was nowhere to be found while you made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. You feel lucky enough that Bucky made his way down, looking for something to sterilize his wounds. Usually, you would kill time talking to Nat, but–

“Sure,” Bucky answers. He gives you an unreadable look as he disappears with Steve into his room. You keep yourself busy, cleaning up the used medical supplies, until the super soldiers reappear. You see Bucky’s jaw clench ever so slightly; otherwise, he is nearly expressionless. He approaches you, nodding towards Steve. You slip off of the kitchen counter stool and Steve places his hand on your lower back, leading you into his room.

His room in the compound is nearly bare, save for what Tony has furnished himself. Not even the record player that he proudly found years ago, the only possession in his former SHIELD apartment.

You sit at the edge of Steve’s bed while he moves his armchair and plants himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, leans forward, and stares earnestly into your eyes.

“Steve?” You can’t ignore the feeling churning in your gut.

“You have been so good to me,” he begins. The inner parts of his eyebrows raise up in sincerity. “And I just want to say thank you.”

“You’re…welcome,” you say, a quip getting lost in your confusion.

“Tomorrow, I return the infinity stones.”

You nod. You knew that. He knew you knew that.

“And…I’m not coming back.”

You let out a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry,” you say, finding your voice suddenly hoarse. “You know Dr. Banner will make sure–”

“The last stone I have to return is in 1949,” he explains. Are you shaking your head at him? Is your entire body quaking? You’re not quite sure. “And I’m going to stay.”

I love you, Steve.

I love you so goddamn much.

I’ve loved you from that moment you sat in Fury’s stupid, flimsy chair.

I’ve loved you since you looked at me like I was your entire world, all because I took you to the worst gym in New York.

I’ve loved you in every moment, in every iteration, in every semblance of you.

And Steve Rogers, I know you love me, too.

You want to reach for Steve’s hand, but you’re frozen, and your clammy hands stay rooted in your lap. You give him a smile that you hope looks genuine.

“You had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

You leave Steve behind in his room, insisting he didn’t need to walk you out. Insisting you didn’t need to spend the night, or ask any more questions.

Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, unmoving. You move to stand beside him.

“He can’t,” you whisper as you approach. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you’re nearly drawing blood.

“He made his choice,” Bucky responds. He matches your hushed volume, but his collected tone contrasts your panicked timbre.

“He can’t,” you say again. Maybe he didn’t hear you correctly.

“It’s his life,” Bucky tells you, in the same even voice.

“He can’t.” Your knees can’t hold you anymore. You’re falling, and Bucky catches your wrists in an effort to keep you from slumping to the ground.

You fight against his grip. You find the sides of your fists beating against his chest. Bucky falls with you. His cold eyes stare ahead, into the darkness beyond the compound. Your tears are hot, pouring onto your face like streams of lava.

He can’t

He can’t

He can’t

⋆⋆⋆

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

You watch the best friends pull each other into an embrace. Bucky’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Steve turns to you, and your bitter frown turns into a painted smile. His muscled arms pull you into a hug next.

“Check in,” he says.

“Stay close,” you respond, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Your eyes squeeze shut as you pull him into a tighter embrace. When you release, Steve flicks away a stray tear from your face.

“Don’t take any chances.” He lingers a moment too long with his hands pressed against your jawline, his eyes searching for something unknown in your expression. Eventually, all too soon, he steps into Dr. Banner’s machine. At the press of a button, he’s gone.

Bruce counts down, preparing his machine for Steve’s return, one that you know won’t ever happen. Eventually, beside you, he and Sam break into a frenzied argument, but somehow they sound so far away.

“Sam.”

Bucky’s sharp voice draws the attention of the three of you. You follow Bucky’s gaze to an elderly man sitting on a bench. You can only see the back of his head, but you gasp.

Your feet are carrying towards the man, right alongside Sam and Bucky.

You can feel Sam’s perplexed gaze shift from you to Bucky.

“Go ahead,” Bucky urges.

You feel like you’re watching from miles away as Sam slowly approaches the captain. Every heartbeat feels like your heart is sinking further down into your stomach, and you force yourself to walk away. As soon as your back is turned, the tears flow freely. You stifle your sobs, disappearing behind a tree, out of sight from the other four heroes.

Bucky keeps his smile as he watches the astonished Sam receive the shield, just as he and Steve discussed. He sees the journey ahead for Sam, the man with a future yet to forge.

He glances back, seeing only a portion of you behind a tree trunk, heaving with the weight of your burdened cries. His heart aches for you, a lifetime of possibilities turned into memories of the past. The light at the end of the tunnel was simply a mirage for the woman left behind.

[askklisba]

Hello friends! So glad you found me! XD, it makes me so happy!😸

（I used a translator throughout this article🙏）

Regarding how to call me, you can call me whatever you want!

Gender pronouns: Anything is fine, just follow your ideas!

Understand and respect each other, although there is no truly accurate understanding and respect in this world... Just do your best, don't be too strict on yourself!

In short, I am an amateur painting enthusiast, not a professional in art, and my painting skills are not very good, but I like to try various media to paint!

I usually create my OC and some fan works of my favorite works or games! !

I'm not very good at expressing myself, and I often use swear words and colloquialisms, incomprehensible jokes, and topics like tobacco and alcohol. I'm sorry. If you feel uncomfortable, you can block me!

I have some mental problems, this will sometimes cause my words to be illogical, and my poor English may cause misunderstandings... But I will try my best to adjust the sentences translated by the translator and the expressions of my native language（简体中文/繁體中文）!

I am a person who talks a lot of nonsense! But it is easy to make typos when excited...

! OK, please pay attention!

I never self-harm, like cutting myself with a knife! I also don’t feel like I need preferential treatment just because I have a mental problem and I’m receiving formal treatment.

! ! I have never had a drug addiction or a history of taking drugs, I only smoke legal cigarettes and drink legal liquor! !I am an adult, and I strongly discourage letting others smoke and drink excessively (especially children who are underage, don’t do this!)

Anyway, normal communication is ok! ❤️

Don't worry, I have a good temper! But it's best not to mess with me, really.

There may be some here (note that it may appear, not necessarily, but please pay attention to those who feel uncomfortable, please)

❗️❗️↓↓↓❗️❗️

NSFW (there may be, generally I will not post it or draw it. Come out)/For the character’s gender change/Cute girl painting style/frightening and unsettling(such as monsters, uncanny valley effect, spiritual curiosity, many dense holes, etc.)

There’s bound to be: lots of plasma! /Character is seriously injured/Character is animalized (not Furry!)/Character is anthropomorphized/My thoughts and daily complaints/About the portrayal of tobacco and alcohol in works and realistic speech/Bad sentences translated by the translator

Although I have a strong acceptance of sexual fetishes, I do have my limits......😑

Please note that these make me feel uncomfortable

Molestation/rape of young children

Bring crimes from the virtual world to reality and implement them. (Really heartless)

Plagiarism and controversial works

! ! ! quarrel! ! ! I don't like to quarrel!

Badly behaved cliques (please remind me if there are any!)

ky (this abbreviation originates from Japanese)

Dislike very much:

1. Some people who send me photos of self-harm. I respect you guys but I have ptsd about it and I've met some terrible people and they've affected me to this day... I don't like flashbacks. Please also don’t follow me or harass me, thank you.🙏🙏🙏

2. Constantly asking me to do something or paint something/coercing or even threatening me to do something I don’t want to do!

3. You can dislike me and my works, you can block me, or you can point out my shortcomings or mistakes and tell me, but please don't be sarcastic or make personal attacks on me! This makes no sense at all!

4. Political related (I am looking for works I like in the virtual world rather than engaging in keyboard battles. I know what is happening in this world, which is difficult to evaluate. I hope you can understand, and hope everything is fine...😔🙏)

5. Racists (Get out of my sight immediately! At least you are not welcome here!)

6. I cannot take care of everyone's personal feelings, nor can I meet everyone's requirements and expectations. I am just an ordinary human being.

7. Maliciously attack and ridicule those who are suffering pain and suffering

! If you feel uncomfortable after reading this nonsense, please block me immediately, thank you!

Alright! In short, whatever I look like in your eyes, that's what I look like. I cannot become what others like for various reasons... You can like or hate me (including my works). It's all ok, I don't mind blocking me when you really hate me! It doesn’t matter, it’s human nature!

Anyway, it's nice to meet you!🌹🥺🌹❤️‍🔥

Other words may be added slowly in the future!

[chaifootsteps]

I feel like I needed to get this out somewhere but one thing about HH, and by extension HB, that always kinda made me feel weird was the cursing. Not that the cursing itself made me uncomfortable, I swear like a sailor on the daily, but how the swearing was used in the way of comedy.

Swearing isn’t used to extenuate what’s being said or make what’s being said have more of an “umph” to it. It’s just, used as the joke. Like, the character says “fuck”, that’s it that’s the joke. This is really relevant in the “Happy Day in Hell” promo.

For comparison sake, The Amazing Digital Circus pilot has jokes centered around swearing like Hazbin does, but I think that TADC lands better because the joke isn’t just “haha cartoon jester says fuck” but more so that the joke is the character literally can’t swear. They’re censored against their will, they can’t even do obscene gestures since that’s censored too (Zooble flipping off the cast).

Not only is it a funny bit that tells us a little bit more about the setting but it also means that the show doesn’t rely on swearing to make what the characters say funny and TADC has jokes that land more often because of it (the entire bit with the Gloink Queen and any scene with either Kinger or Jax was fucking hysterical).

Hazbin on the other hand? The jokes don’t do it for me. It’s just kinda, the characters saying profanity and offensive statements that are sometimes funny but not always. Also all of the characters swear the same, it makes them all feel similar and like they have the same voice.

Alastor could use 1930s slang and swear words, or not swear at all and use old timey insults. Vaggie could sound like she’s on a MySpace page of use early 2010s speech or occasionally use Spanish insults. It’s just something that would actually make the swearing funny and would make the characters all have their own voice.

I don’t consider myself apart of the Hazbin or Helluva community but I also don’t think I’m apart of the critical crowd either. I used to be a big fan of both shows and now I’m just kinda disappointed because it feels like the writing is going down hill and I’m not as excited for either show now. I just kinda wanted to get this off my chest since I’ve recently gotten back into animation because of other indie pilots like TADC.

That's the disappointing thing about swearing in HH/HB. It's not that it's heavy on swears, it's the way they're used, or rather all the ways they aren't used.

BoJack reserves one "fuck" a season and pulls it out when someone's cutting ties with BoJack. South Park swears as often as it possibly can because its objective is to push the limit until it snaps. Lackadaisy goes with old-timey curses. TADC literally censors the characters' swearing for comedy but also a certain level of horror.

When characters swear in HH/HB, it's not because Vivzie stopped and gave any thought to which of her characters would swear, and how, and why...it's just because the word "fuck" makes her giggle like a 10-year-old. No more and less.