#Later a roommate told me that I was an Emotional Terrorist

[loathsomescavenger]

Amongst my friends and family any recommendation I make on movies or books is treated with extreme suspicion. I tend to pick things that provoke very strong emotional responses, and I do understand that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. However, there was one case when I was a teenager that I definitely weaponized this preference.

When I was about 13 I got way into anime. My dad fell into the cliché of thinking anything animated automatically made it childish and would give me grief for watching that “kid shit.” Nothing serious mind you, he would rent anything I asked for and never seriously tried to stop me from watching it, but he would still tease me for it. Looking back it wasn’t totally unwarranted, I did go through that hyper-weeb phase and was probably obnoxious to deal with. But at the time I was deeply offended.

Now, no one has mastered the art of spite quite like a teenager who feels they’ve faced an injustice. After one too many snide comments I decided that I needed a fitting revenge. It wouldn’t be too difficult. My dad was a gruff spoken man, but he was also incredibly soft hearted. He was the type of man that if the dog whined by the truck to go for a ride, he would always cave. She loved it and he would feel guilty. And like any loving daughter, I was 100% going to use this against him. I had the perfect movie planned to make my point.

Had it perfectly planned out. Generally, he would putter around in the kitchen in the afternoons, but you could easily see the tv from the table. I planned my rental to make sure that he would be in the kitchen to hear everything. I even broke my normal “sub only” rule and made sure I had the dubbed version for him. I didn’t want him to miss anything. Plan in place, I innocently asked if he would mind if I used the tv to watch my movie.

“Is it more of that kid shit?”

“Yeah…but I’ve been really wanting to see this one.”

“Fine. I suppose you’ll outgrow it someday.”

“Thanks dad!”

All set up, and making sure that I picked a spot where he could still very clearly see the TV screen, I hit play on Grave of the Fireflies.

We spent the next 89 minutes watching two children starve to death in WWII Japan. As the credits rolled I turned to him, who was now sitting shell shocked and slightly misty eyed.

“Thanks for letting me watch my silly little cartoon dad!”

He never said another word to me about my tastes. But any movie I picked for the family was HEAVILY vetted after that.

[occult-roommates]

Back to square one

A week had passed since the failed confession fiasco. Still, Dawud never came back to the apartment, except briefly that morning to gather his stuff in a suitcase. When he wasn’t at work, he wandered around the city, seeking shelters in various ways. He blocked absolutely everyone in his new life in San Myshuno, he did not want to see them, he could not handle it. Pretty much all of them or close are occults in one way or another, and he just out of nowhere went on this insane rant against them. Even if he was just pissed off and didn’t meant any of it, it’s pretty damn hard to apologize about that when he pretty much just said the same hateful rhetorics his occult roommates have heard against their kind all the time ever since they were little. If he were them he would not want an apology, they’d be dead to him. Hell, no need to pretend he’s an occult, if Daniele had called him a dirty Arab or a terrorist or something, he wouldn’t be friend with him anymore.

It kept on running through his head, that one question: why did he say that? He knows he didn’t meant it, he was just pissed and wanted to strike Daniele where it hurt, but why did he went there? Is this what he always believed deep down? He likes to believe he was raised to be a pretty open-minded guy, but you know, nobody is perfect. It felt a bit like as after spending years feeling numb, now all of his emotions were too intense for his own good.

So now, he was doing just like what he did the last time he fucked up massively, when he failed an assigment so hard he told himself “fuck it, I’m dropping out”. Cause not only was he avoiding the people he loved, he was now leaving everything, his new job, his new friends, his new life, everything, to live with Audrey and be a depressed mess. And in both case, it was kind of an impulse, an impulse for a complete rerouting of his life, but an impulse. Uh, he never really saw himself as the impulsive kind, but maybe he is deep down. Anyway, he still had to prevent Audrey he’s coming, so he was on the phone with her to tell her...the new. She took well the idea of him coming back, not so much the reason however.

Dawud: Assuming my flight won’t get delayed I should be there by around uh...Wait I’m taking the time zone into account let me do the math...Damn ok I should be here by...maximum 3 PM. Audrey: Ok but at that time I might be at work so I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. And speaking of time zone it’s like 6 AM in Strangerville so I’m going back to sleep before my alarm clock rings. See you later. Ralf: Dawud???

Dawud turned around and saw the tall man kinda run-walk towards him, before unexpectedly hugging him. Ralf was also one of the many people he blocked, luckily he didn’t came across him while at work that week, but you know, it was only a matter of time before he’d see him at the airport.

Ralf: Daniele told me what happened, he’s worried sick about you. All of us were.  Dawud: Why should he worry me, I hurt him deeply. It’s not logical, he should hate me. I would hate me if I were him. Ralf: Well, he’s still your friend. You might have messed up, but it seems like he’s still willing to give you a second chance if you explain yourself a little bit and apologize.

Well, that was reassuring. Still, he wasn’t backing out of his decision. First of all the plane ticket was already bought, second of all he has quit his job and he doesn’t have the patience to get a new one in San Myshuno, third of all Audrey is gonna be real disappointed if he tells her he’s actually not going back to live with her. And he’s been disappointing enough people as of late. So, he sat down with Ralf on a bench, the same bench they had their first conversation months and months prior.

Dawud: I really don’t know why I said that. It feels like I’ve been possessed but you know, saying “oh I wasn’t acting like myself” is such a bullshit excuse for shitty behavior. I am me, everything I do is myself, unless I’m acting. If I’m actively lying then that means myself is a liar. Ralf: Every time I talk to you Dawud, it seems like you’re just now finding out at 23 that human beings can be messy and complicated, and you’re absolutely floored by this fact. Dawud: And all of that because I got rejected, that’s so stupid! I mean, in my defense, I never got rejected before, but still, I feel like at my age I should be handling it better than that. Most teenagers probably handle it better than that. Ralf: I mean, I did even more moronic and life ruining things just for some spellcaster’s bussy.  Dawud: I...I...Please never say that word in front of me ever again??? Especially when we’re having a serious conversation. Ralf: Moronic?

Ralf started rambling that Dawud shouldn’t leave, the airlines he works at, Wind-enbair, doesn’t fly to the western United States. In fact, San Myshuno is pretty much the only destination out of Europe that they offer with the exception of some North African resort towns. That is pretty much only because San Myshuno is the world capital and has several European communities there, along with like every continents, but Wind-enbair is a German airlines. Dawud didn’t care. He’s wants to act as if the whole of 2019 never happened.

Dawud: But I swear I don’t actually hate occults. Like, I’ve been living with them for months and even before, Audrey is 1/4 fairy on her mother’s side...I don’t even know what point I’m trying to make anymore. Ralf: Hell, I could be an occult. You don’t know me...I mean, I am not. But I could be...  Dawud: A-Are you??? Ralf: Nah. You saw me touch water and I didn’t turn half-fish, I do not have blue skin and fangs like a vampire, I wish I had powers like a spellcaster or a fairy, and werewolves cannot be pilot. Dawud: Wait really? Werewolves can’t? Ralf: Yeah, that sucks for them. I know a guy who accidentally got turned into one, ruined his career and then pretty much his entire life. Awful...Anyway, on brighter news, I heard Akva had her baby. She’s pretty cute. Dawud: I didn’t know you were in contact with my ex-roommates to be honest like first Daniele and now her? Ralf: Well, I don’t really reach out to them, it’s always the other way around, and just them. I never met your other roommates. But like, speaking of Akva, I hope she’s ok. I remember when I had my first son, he too was an accident but he quickly became the best part of my life. He’d be around your age nowadays...I miss him. Dawud: What why? Why do you... Ralf: I need to go!

The older man stood up and started walking away, almost running from his younger friend. To be honest, Ralf was switching from topic to topic in hope of making Dawud change his mind about going back to Strangerville. But now, he had said too much, way way too much. In fact he’s been saying too much this entire conversation, but that was the straw that broke the camel back!

Cause to also be honest, there are many things about him that Dawud do not know, and he does not want him to find out about it. Maybe it’s better this way that Dawud doesn’t want to see him ever again actually...

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[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 13- Icarus

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warning for very slight suicidal themes this fic has a happy ending I swear

Masterlist

Agony.

Losing you is agony.

Endeavor is lecturing him for pulling the stunt with Bakugo earlier that day but he can’t hear or really process any of it when all he can think about is the fact you’ve blocked his number and seem to want nothing to do with him. He vaguely registers words of “I told you so” and “I warned you” and even a word or two about a demotion but none of it matters. Hawks doesn’t know how to do anything but be a hero. It’s been the driving force behind a lot of the choices he’s made in your relationship and he knows it’s the same for you, but that doesn’t make any of this easier.

“You’re going to have to work really hard to earn my trust back Hawks and the trust of your coworkers,” Endeavor warns. “Understood,” Hawks replies, his voice almost detached. It seems to disconcert Endeavor, the other man being far more accustomed to the snarky Hawks persona than the serious man in front of him now. “Hawks, uhm, do you,” Endeavor stutters suddenly unsure. He coughs to cover his discomfort and clears his throat before resuming. “Do you need to talk about what happened between you and Artemis?” he finally manages to ask. He looks so deeply uncomfortable potentially talking about the subject and his discomfort only grows when Hawks continues to give him nothing back. “That won’t be necessary,” Hawks replies before turning and walking out of the office. If Hawks doesn’t know how to live without hero work, Keigo doesn’t know how to live without you. So his only option is to abandon Keigo until the pain stops.

He can’t have slept more than a handful of hours that night but he still wakes up early the next morning to run an extra patrol before his normally scheduled one. He files paperwork, even revisits old cases, all in a bid to keep you off his mind. Of course it’s not enough to stop his coworkers from whispering. Typically he ignores the gossip of the lower ranking heroes but it’s hard when he knows they’re speculating about you and him. It certainly doesn’t help that your break up was so public and now it feels like nearly all of Japan has watched the video of it happening. Hawks used to be the darling of Endeavor’s agency, beloved by all of his coworkers. Now he’s practically a pariah.

His new outcast status is only made more obvious at the cocktail party later that day. He’d wanted to skip it entirely, the fact you were supposed to be his plus one to the event made it all the more unappealing, but he’s already skating on thin ice and had no legitimate excuse to justify his absence. So instead he watches the other heroes talk and drink and laugh about things while he hides in the corner, too exhausted and heartbroken to put up the persona necessary to maintain conversation. No one seems to ask about him anyway or even care what he thinks despite the fact it’s his personal life that’s become the hottest topic in all of Japan. He wonders if this is how Icarus felt as he plummeted to the earth. Hawks had flown too close to your light and warmth and now he’s fallen from grace. He wonders if it’s true that Icarus laughed as he fell. If so he can empathize. As painful as this fall is, he would live it over and over if it meant he could catch even a glimpse of you again.

When Shoto comes to join him it’s literally the first genuine interaction he’s had all day. “You look like shit,” Shoto comments by way of greeting. “Thanks. Feel like it too,” Hawks replies. He doesn’t have to pretend with Shoto and for that he’s grateful. “Are you ok?” Shoto asks. “Even though I’ve always hated these things I was always so good at them,” Hawks starts in response. “I’d talk, drink, laugh just like everyone’s doing, be the center of attention, play the part of the charming number two hero. And look at me now. I’m so fucking anxious about what they’ll say about me, about her, about us and what happened that I can’t have a proper fucking conversation. I used to be on fire and now I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be and I’m just fading away. Without her I’m fading away. I’m just as pathetic as she said,” Keigo confesses and it’s a weight off but it also makes the hollow space behind his ribs where you used to live feel all the more prominent. “This right here is kind of pathetic,” Shoto starts, earning him a shocked almost laugh from the other man, “but you are not pathetic Hawks. I think (y/n) knows that, she’s just hurting. Rightfully so. The bullshit with the others in the agency will get better too.” “I don’t know about that one.” “You’re not the only one who’s done dumb or bad shit. Not by a long shot.” “Really?” “You know Iida?” Shoto asks, pointing to the man in question as he obliviously continues his conversation with one of the others present. “Yea. Your year at UA, stickler for the rules. What about him?” Hawks asks. “He chose his internship our first year with the sole intention of trying to hunt down and kill Stain to avenge his brother.” “Really? That guy?” “Yep. My dad isn’t so innocent either: quirk marriage, child abuse, oh the stories I could tell you.” “Jesus Christ.” “Exactly. Everyone has their own shit Hawks. This will pass and hopefully you and (y/n) can find your ways back to each other when it does.”

Shortly after Todoroki finishes speaking his phone rings and he frowns down in confusion when he notices it’s Bakugo calling him. “I didn’t think we had task force business today,” Shoto says as he answers the phone. “We don’t. Is Hawks there with you?” Bakugo asks, his tone betraying his worry. “Yea he is.” “Shit.” “What’s going on Bakugo?” “It’s about (y/n),” Bakugo admits and Shoto’s eyes widen. He casts a look at Hawks before finally deciding to drag the other man with him to an empty office on the floor they’re currently on. He locks the door behind them and then pops his phone on speaker. “Ok you’re on speaker with me and Hawks what’s going on with (y/n)?” Shoto asks, his voice remaining calm. “All Might fired her last night so she was supposed to come in this morning and collect her stuff except instead she pretty much just threw everything away. I came back to patrol and found out she’d left Midoriya and I little gifts on our desk which was weird, so I hit up her roommates and apparently she never went home after she swung by here. I thought she and Hawks may have run off together but if he’s with you...” Bakugo explains. “Maybe she’s just clearing her head or something,” Shoto suggests. “No way. The whole of Japan is gossiping about her right now, the last thing she’d want is to be out in public,” Bakugo quickly refutes. “Was there anything else off about your desks? Drawers opened?” Hawks asks. “Maybe, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Why?” Bakugo asks. “Your task force notes still there?” Hawks asks in lieu of an answer. Hawks and Shoto wait with baited breath as they hear the sound of Bakugo moving around and then opening a desk drawer. “Nope, they’re gone,” Bakugo finally reports back. “Thought so. (Y/n) wouldn’t just roll over and kiss her career goodbye, she’s probably trying to take out the terrorist cell herself and use it as leverage to get her job back,” Hawks deduces. “Alone? That’s a suicide mission,” Shoto says. “Hence the gifts on the desks,” Hawks replies grimly. “Most of our notes are over there with you guys though,” Bakugo points out. As if on cue an alarm starts blaring overhead warning of an intruder. “That’s gotta be her,” Hawks says. “I’m on my way, hold her there so we can talk some sense into that idiot,” Bakugo tells them before promptly hanging up the phone.

Hawks has to give credit where credit is due. As foolhardy as your plan is, it’s incredibly well executed. As a former member of the guest list, you would’ve known everyone would be occupied with the cocktail party on one of the lower floors, far away from where the files you need are. The elevators will take forever with so many people trying to all get upstairs which only leaves the stairs, which are marginally better but still relatively slow. You must have spent most of the night planning this out. That thought fills Hawks with a certain amount of dread. You’re probably emotional and sleep deprived on your way to take on an entire villain group yourself all in a desperate bid to save your career. It almost sounds ludicrous. Yet, as Hawks races to the top floor in hopes of catching you, all he can think of is something you’d once told him during happier times, late at night as you two were wrapped up in each other:

“Honestly Kei? I’d rather die a hero than live long enough to prove those stupid reporters right about me.”

Author’s Note: Does this still count as a double update if I’m posting the second one after midnight 💀 anyway I can’t believe how quickly I was able to get this chapter out. The image of Hawks standing in the corner of a massive company party feeling like a shell of himself is actually a large part of what sold me on writing this fic for him. The song this chapter correlates to just felt so right for his character that I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. I thought about waiting to post this until later tomorrow today? but I’m ✨impatient✨ so instead y’all get it now

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

[fanfic-scribbles]

Heroic Gestures

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky saves you, you save Bucky. In different ways, but still– it’s all in a day’s work for a couple of heroes.

(Shut up Steve.)

Quick facts: Romance – [established] Reader/Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Some Reader peril, liberal usage of humor in a scary situation, little hurt and much comfort

Words: 2259

A/N: If you’re currently going ‘what gives, didn’t I see this this morning?’ yeah, that was a ‘whoopsie’ on my part; I posted it, had some technical glitches, tried to fix it on mobile while I was at work and borked it to the point where I had to delete it and wait until I got home. I promise I’m not spamming, I’m just technologically inept. Also anybody who can edit posts on mobile is smarter and braver than me <3

      ~

  Today had been going so well– you ran some errands, you cleaned the kitchen, you changed the password on Bucky’s computer so he can’t skip out on quality time with you when he gets home from his stupid SHIELD thing–

“Where is it?”

You're not sure how an otherwise mostly-pleasant morning has topped off with you tied to a chair in the middle of your ransacked living room, but you are going to kick somebody for it.

“I don’t know what ‘it’ is!” you snap and then gasp when the man’s face contorts in anger. Okay, easy; don’t piss off the guy with the gun sitting in arm’s reach. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about; I don’t, I swear.”

He sighs like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met. Rude. You could say a lot of things about a guy who breaks into someone else’s home, throws everything all over the place, and then starts asking where something is without telling the person he’s asking what he’s looking for. But you won’t. Mostly because he has a gun. And a knife. And a lot of muscles. Really, you’re more of a lover than a fighter, and you intend to keep it that way.

Unfortunately the man in front of you has a face only a mother could love, and a personality that you hope no one would care for. He grinds his teeth and takes a deep breath, which is good, you think. “Earlier today, Tony Stark came by and dropped off a package,” he says slowly. He raises both of his thin eyebrows. “Ring any bells?”

Ah, Tony. You are so kicking him later. “Honestly, no,” you say, because it is unfortunately not uncommon for Tony to just ‘drop in’ from time to time to do things like leave weird ‘presents,’ or upgrade your security system without asking, or stick rude notes that are too funny to get mad at on the refrigerator. Steve and Bucky don’t know how he gets in. Well they should be happy to not-know that you are so revoking his key after today.

The man grips your chin to painful degrees. “I don’t!” you insist, panicking that this is about to get way worse. But then he suddenly lets go.

And then he hits you. Hard enough to turn your head. Hard enough that half your face starts to throb. Despite your attempts to keep cool, you tear up a little. “I wasn’t even that rough,” he says and yanks your face back into line. When he does you catch a glimpse of someone lurking in the shadows– and the familiar glint of metal makes you able to breathe again.

“It can and will get worse,” Big Ugly tells you very seriously. You almost smirk, because yeah, it’s going to. And you hope Bucky lets you get a kick of your own in for good measure. But Bad Guy lets go of your face and sits back, smug and self-satisfied. For now. “Now– what did Stark give you?”

You sigh. “If Tony left anything then it would probably have been for one of the other two Avengers I live with. You’ll have to ask them.”

The man’s eyes flit suspiciously, but he doesn’t look around, even as he acquires a large and menacing shadow. “Oh really?” he asks sarcastically, like he doesn’t believe you have even so much as a roommate. In a brownstone. In Brooklyn.

Tourist.

“So where are they?” he asks and leans just a little too far back, away from you, and towards–

Bucky strikes, metal arm like a shining silver cobra, and grabs the other man by the throat, hauling him up over the chair he’s sitting him and pulling him back gagging and gasping and flailing so your beautiful specter can growl into his ear, “Right. Here.”

~

“I can’t believe you didn’t let me kick him.”

“I didn’t want you anywhere near him,” Bucky mutters and keeps dabbing at your face. You didn’t even feel the blood so you must be cleaned up by now, but repetitive motions can help soothe him when he’s like this, and right now Bucky looks like he’s a million miles away. “Steve’s gonna kill me.”

Steve will do no such thing and you both know it, but it doesn’t seem like a particularly comforting fact right now. “He’s gonna have to go through me,” you say and put your hand over his to hold the cloth there. “How are you feeling?”

He gives you a Look. “I punched him.”

“So pretty good then?”

You catch a hint of a smile before he dips his head down low. “Hey,” you say and hold his face, bringing him back up. You rub familiar stubble with your fingertips and cradle his jaw in the palms of your hands. “It’s not your fault. He came because he saw Tony. It’s not Tony’s fault either. It’s his fault. You saved me. Nothing really terrible happened. Breathe, baby.”

He does. He doesn’t look all that happy or relieved about it, but it’s not your place to harangue him out of having emotions.

“That said, maybe I can get Tony to do a drop off in an Amazon locker next time.”

Harangue, maybe not. Encourage some others, definitely yes, and Bucky rewards you by breathing a brief laugh. He then shakes his head and goes back to dabbing your face. “Steve is going to kill me.”

~

You should have bet on it because when Steve comes home a couple of days later, Bucky walks in right behind him completely hale and hearty– much like Steve, who predicts your running jump with such aplomb that he drops his bag to the floor just in time to catch you. “You’re okay!” you say, legs wrapped around his waist, and you kiss him several times over while he takes you over to the couch and sits with you on his lap.

“Likewise,” Steve says and runs a gentle hand up the side of your face. You didn’t think you looked that bad, but he adds, “Bucky told me what happened. How are you feeling?”

Bucky is currently lurking in the big armchair off on the side, watching the two of you like he’s afraid to interact. You hope he got his kisses in when he greeted Steve at the airfield. Actually, scratch that– you hope Steve got his kisses in, because Bucky is full-on into self-flagellation mode for not having been psychic about a wanna-be terrorist stalking Tony for a delivery the boys weren't even expecting.

Still, you try. “I’m fine. Bucky swooped in, all knight-in-shining-armor-y, and saved me.” You smile at Bucky while still addressing Steve. “I’m no shrinking violet, but I felt braver when I saw him.”

Bucky perks up from his busy ‘Sit Morosely in a Chair’ activity. “Really?”

“Mm hm,” you say, still enthused with running your hands over Steve’s. Luckily he never seems to mind how touchy you get after a mission.

“I’m sure you were brave,” Steve says and brings up your hands to kiss them.

“Nope!” you say, too cheerful on purpose. You sit back on the couch and drape your legs across Steve’s lap. “So, here’s what happened: one day while I was out, completely unbeknownst to me, Tony came over and dropped something off.” You put Steve’s hands on your thighs and pat them. “And don’t worry; I have since talked to Tony about dropping by when one of us isn’t home.”

“So have I,” Bucky mutters.

“Shush! This is my story,” you say and shoot Bucky a glare. He crosses his arms and looks away, so you clear your throat. “Anyway. Unbeknownst to Tony, he was being watched by someone else. Dundunduuuu–”

“AIM,” Bucky murmurs and you glare at him again. He puts his hand to his mouth.

“So, I got home after running some errands and one of the mysterious evil people watching the house decided to make their move,” you say, but Bucky looks so sad again you think…why not have a little fun with it. “He forced his way into my apartment, but I held him off…” for five seconds, but you punch the air and say, “–with my untapped assassin powers!”

Steve lets out a startled laugh and Bucky looks at you like you’re crazy, but he’s stopped looking sad, so you run with it. You nod emphatically. “Yes, to my surprise, I held him off with magically discovered physical ability that would make even Natasha say “whoaaaa.’”

Bucky snorts and his hand is less for showing you he’s going to behave and more for covering up a smile. That’s way better, and totally worth the pain you’ll endure if Natasha ever finds out your impression of her sounds more like Bill and/or Ted than her. You grin and continue with your story. “We fought for hours. I was amazing.”

“Well, I have seen you catch a chip when it started to drop on the other side of the room,” Steve says thoughtfully.

You snap your fingers and point at him. “See? Same motivation.” You then mock a swoon. “Alas, my hubris got the best of me and I was defeated. I awoke, tied to a chair.” You put your hand to your chest. “My own fault; I underestimated my lesser-but-still-formidable opponent. So, he interrogated me. It was kind of scary, but I gave him nothing.” You lift your hands when you shrug. “Mostly because I didn’t know shit. But! Also because I’m brave and stout of heart and yadda yadda.”

Steve is doing real bad at trying not to laugh, and Bucky, though more composed now and trying to be stern, is cracking fast. Good. “And then.” You clasp your hands over your heart as though to keep it in your chest. “Bucky came out of the smoke and shadows and loomed over my lesser-but-formidable opponent.”

“We have a smoke machine?” Steve asks.

“Nope. He was just that awesome,” I said. “I was pretending to cry, to catch my lesser-but-formidable opponent off-guard. It totally worked; he was such a dummy. And then– and then!” You sit up because you’re at the best part, and Steve wraps an arm around your waist to help you stay steady on the cushions. “So I told my lesser-but-formidable opponent that Tony didn’t give me anything, but if he did it would be for the two Avengers I actually do hang out with–”

“‘Hang out with,’” Steve scoffs and pinches your thigh. You yelp and fall against him to make him stop.

“I’m at the best part!” you say and cover his mouth. He takes your hand and starts kissing it, but he’s paying attention (and it feels nice) so you allow it. “So- so he says, ‘where are they?’ and Bucky– cape flowing, lightning striking, shadows casting over his face–”

“Did I have a rose whip too?” Bucky asks dryly.

“I think you would look fetching in a domino mask, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, so- so Bucky says–” you drop your voice almost as low as you can, “‘–Right. Here.’ And POW! WHAM!” You swing, making punching motions at the air, so hard and numerous that you almost fall off the couch. Steve is still holding you and at one point he keeps you from diving face first into the floor. “Thanks,” you pant and take two more big, deep breaths to get back to baseline. “And then I totally forgot I had magical badass powers and let Bucky handle the situation, and he beat up the bad guy, and untied me, and I fell right into his arms because he’s my hero. And then some other boring stuff happened. The end!”

Steve claps and Bucky joins him, and you stand up to take a bow, as is your due. You then hop over and sit across Bucky’s lap. It’s hard for Bucky to mope with someone draped over him, as you have well learned from watching Steve. “You’re amazing–” you kiss him, “–and strong–” you kiss him again, “–and I love you so–” kiss, “–deal–” kiss, “–with–” kiss, “–it,” kiss kiss kiss.

“Fine! Fine,” he grumbles but he can’t hide that smile from you. “Shouldn’t you be harassing Steve? He’s the one who hasn’t been home.”

“I have a solution for that,” Steve says, suddenly next to you, and he lifts you into his arms.

“Hey!” You smack at his hand. It’s one thing when you’re making him catch you, it’s another thing when he initiates. You're supposed to be in charge, dammit. You’ve said so.

“I need to thank my heroes for taking care of the homestead while I was out,” Steve says and nuzzles your neck, dipping down to kiss and nip at your collarbone. You shiver and even Bucky looks entranced when Steve lifts his head and says in a deeper voice, “Are you in, Sergeant?”

Bucky manages a barely intelligible “yes” as he stumbles to his feet and follows you both to the bedroom. Steve doesn’t ask you but, admittedly, he doesn’t have to. You’re easy and you’re pretty okay with it. Also, you feel like after this week you deserve to be doted on a little bit. And you know you will be.

It’s good to be a hero.

However if they try to start dragging you to the gym with them, you’re going to show them some actual secret ass-kicking abilities.

[paganinpurple]

A Feline’s Family - MariChat May 2019

Buy Me A Coffee?

AO3

Chapters (If there’s no link, it’s not written yet)

1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10

11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20

21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

Day 7 – Roommates

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

Chat groaned as a blurry Sabine gently shook his shoulder. He blinked repeatedly until she came into focus and for one blissful second, he was confused –wondering why she was here in his room– but then it all came rushing back to him, and the emotional rapids with it.

“We’ve only got you set up temporarily for tonight,” the woman told him from where she was perched on the edge of the couch next to him, “ The chaise isn’t very good for more than a couple of nights, but it’s better than this old thing. We’re working on getting you a real bed tomorrow.”

“Bed?” Chat said, sitting up in a hurry of tangled blankets and cushions, “Please tell me you aren’t buying one for me? The couch would’ve been fine, honest.”

“Nonsense,” she said with a sweet smile, “Besides, we all have to use the living-room and three other people in your space all the time will have you on edge.”

“But, you don’t have another bedroom,” Chat remembered suddenly. He’d been given the tour around his second or third visit and discovered the place was actually only a one-bedroom place, since Marinette’s room had been the attic originally and just converted into a room for her. “If I’m not sleeping here, then where…?”

“Upstairs.”

“Well, yeah. I figured that for tonight,” he said –after all she’d mentioned the chaise and he knew that was Marinette’s– “but if you’re getting me a bed, where are you going to put that?”

She smiled affectionately and shook her head a little before speaking slower and clearer to be sure he understood. “Up. Stairs.” She gestured for him to follow her and made her way up to the attic as he just sat there with wide, unblinking eyes.

***

“Then we get another screen –a much bigger one, mind you– and it can go here to split the room if either of you ever need your own space.” Tom gestured to the rough centre of Marinette’s room, using his hands to illustrate roughly how tall the screen he had mentioned would be. “I’ve seen plenty of them in that little homewares place the next arrondissement over. It’s just that they’re a little plain-”

“But I can always decorate them with a design or two,” Marinette interjected, “I know what kind of things I like for my side, so I just need ideas from you on how you want the other side done.” That seemed to make her consider something and she narrowed her eyes as she glanced about the room. “Actually, maybe we could redecorate the walls, so you’re not overwhelmed by pink all the time.”

Still reeling from the shock of learning he and Marinette were going to be sharing a room, Chat just stared from where he had slumped down on the chaise, green duvet pulled tightly around his shoulders. They had now talked him through their a few of their ideas for completely rearranging Marinette’s room –to create a space specifically for Chat– and he hadn’t even managed to respond to them once. It was a bit much to come to terms with.

He could barely believe he’d only been asleep for a few hours considering all the thought they’d put into his move already. Even just being offered a place to stay was more than he’d hoped to get when he’d disrupted everything. And here they were thinking about his long-term happiness already.

He considered the different ways they wanted to make space for him up here. One possibility was placing one of the large desks that made up the space beneath her bed to under the window by the chaise instead, the other moving further along from where it already sat to make room for another bed beneath the loft. Another –the one involving the screens– left Marinette with one side of the room and him the other. One of the desks would still be relocated to his side –along with his bed when they got one– and the chaise moved beside the wash-basin, the screens effectively separating the large room into two.

It wouldn’t be very big –there was barely enough room for all of Marinette’s projects at times already– but it would be his. A shared space, yes - but one where these people had made room in their lives just for him. It was far more than his father had ever done for him.

Shaking off that thought quickly before he started dwelling too much and upset himself again, Chat decided to just go ahead and address the elephant in the room. He turned to look at Marinette. “Am I the only one thinking it’s odd you’re all okay with a boy sharing your room?”

He watched as a deep scarlet started to spread across her face at his words, seeping from the opening of her shirt and even going so high as to dust the tips of her ears. Oh. Despite his question, he hadn’t expected that. It was a strange disconnect from reality to see her so cool and confident while talking about the logistics of him living in her room one minute, and then for her to be so utterly mortified the next.

“Yes, well-”

“Don’t you dare, Papa.”

Chat glanced from one glaring Dupain to the other in confusion, pleading with his eyes for someone to explain the silent warfare going on before him.

“Fine!” Marinette huffed, throwing her hands out in front of her and surprising him with how loudly she spoke, “But I refuse to be here while it happens.” She stomped out of the room, muttering something under her breath as she went. It sounded suspiciously like she’d used the words, “embarrassing” and “ridiculous.”

“Right, son,” Tom said, face suddenly stern and vaguely terrifying, “It’s time we had a talk about appropriate behaviour between a teenage boy and girl living under one roof.”

Chat gulped.

***

It’d been a long, emotional day for Chat Noir - for them all. He should have been exhausted and yet, he wasn’t. He just couldn’t stop thinking about his father. About Ladybug. And about how he wasn’t ready to face either of them yet.

What would he even say? If he had stayed and confronted his father, the man would have most likely tried to keep him locked up and isolated again. He wouldn’t even have been given his phone or an internet connection this time around - in order to try and keep him from telling anyone what he knew. And if he’d kept what he’d discovered to himself, and Hawkmoth’s powers really worked the way Master Fu had told him they did, his father would have soon known something was up. He would have detected the constant panic and distrust eventually and realised that Adrien knew more than he was supposed to. And that would have been the end of his short life, because –if he was being perfectly honest– he would die inside if he was forced to return to the way he used to live now that he’d had a taste of freedom.

As for Ladybug, he wasn’t sure how she’d react. Would she want to know Hawkmoth’s identity immediately? Or speak to Master Fu first to decide if learning who Chat was under the mask was too big a risk? Would she be angry with him for not saying something immediately? Would she be angry at him just for his blood connection with a magical terrorist? Would she and Master Fu try to take his Miraculous to avoid it falling into his father’s hands? He needed to know what he was or wasn’t going to tell her before the next akuma showed up.

At least he had bought time with his father. It had been worrying Chat how quickly he’d managed to put together a logical fallacy so he could continue to go to school and things when he wasn’t hidden in plain sight as a super-hero. Worrying mostly because that’s exactly how his father tended to think when coming up with solutions. Cold and calm planning calculated through creating an emotional distance from the situation until later.

He knew he could have simply disappeared as Adrien altogether, but his father would have had people out searching every home in Paris for him - he would have been slapped across every news outlet as a missing person. It wouldn’t have taken long for someone to spot him, or for Marinette and her family to connect the dots. And then how would they react?

So instead –before he’d run off to the bakery and allowed himself to break down– he had written a long letter. He had detailed everything he had seen and worked out in hindsight about his father’s activities as a terrorist, including the entrance to his lair and that Ladybug and Chat Noir had suspected Gabriel at one point. He’d also talked about years of neglect and emotional manipulation by the man to show that it wasn’t exactly a recent lapse in his moral compass that had led to him attacking Parisians on a daily basis. The letter had been attached to an email he had sent to his father, in which he explained that should Gabriel or anyone else try to take him home, or if his friends (or anyone seen with him) were approached or threatened or bribed in any way, then an email containing his letter was set to send to the press. He explained that it was held in more than one private cloud system he had signed up for, and should he fail to sign in and reset his scheduled mail each day, it would send automatically. It was a genuine, legitimate threat as well and if Gabriel decided to check his online history, he’d see hundreds of different cloud services Adrien had researched, choosing ones with free access, to ensure his father couldn’t cut them off by refusing payment.

He just hoped it was enough to dissuade the man from appearing at school, because Adrien was going to be a nervous wreck tomorrow as it was.

He looked up in the dimly lit room, seeing everything as clear as if it were day with his super-powered night-vision. There seemed to be a lot of movement coming from the loft and he wondered if Marinette was having just as much trouble falling asleep as he was.

“Are you asleep?” he whispered.

“No,” came the hushed response almost instantly, “I should be though. We both should.”

“Yeah. Just can’t stop thinking.”

“I know, Kitty. I know.”

He honestly didn’t know what he’d do without this girl and her parents right now. They had taken him in even before this whole mess and showered him with so much love and care when he visited that he wasn’t sure how to handle it. And now here they were, making a space for him in their home, in their lives. And he hadn’t even told them why.

“Thank you,” he said for what must have been the hundredth time, “You and your parents didn’t need to do this.”

“Of course, we did. Mama and Papa have practically adopted you already.” She yawned loudly as she finished speaking.

That was another thing…

He looked up to her bed. Looked away again. Bit his lip. Glanced back to her. He wasn’t going to say it. There was no way he was going to ask such an awkward question so he might as well just go to sl-

“Hey,” Damn it! “if your parents have adopted me…does that make me your brother?”

There was silence for a moment, and he thought maybe she had fallen asleep, but the sudden rustling of the duvet and a quick glance at her sitting upright and staring through the dark in his general direction quickly corrected him.

“No,” she said firmly, “No, you are not my brother. You are…” she looked pained and uncomfortable for a second until she settled on a word that her face told him she didn’t quite agree with, but was the best she could offer right now, “you’re my friend.”

Buy Me A Coffee?

[architectnews]

"We thought it was the end of New York City" say architects on anniversary of 9/11

Today marks 20 years since the World Trade Center in New York City was destroyed in a terrorist attack. In the final part of our 9/11 anniversary series, architects share their memories of the traumatic event and the impact that it had on architecture.

On 11 September 2001, the 110-storey World Trade Center towers in lower Manhattan, New York City, were struck by two planes hijacked by Al-Qaeda terrorists.

The attack, which claimed the lives of 2,753 people, sent shockwaves across the world and led many people to question the future of New York and high-rise buildings.

Today marks twenty years since the World Trade Center terrorist attacks. Photo is by Wally Gobetz

That day, a third plane also hijacked by Al-Qaeda terrorists struck The Pentagon, while a fourth crashed in a field in Pennsylvania as passengers attempted to regain control.

The four coordinated hijackings claimed the lives of 2,996 people.

"You knew immediately that something was not right"

Ung-Joo Scott Lee, the New York partner of US studio Morphosis, had just arrived at his office in the city after the first plane had struck the North Tower.

"You could see this gigantic black smoke in the sky because it was a beautiful, clear blue sky day and you knew immediately that something was not right," he told Dezeen.

In the office, he said "everybody hurtled around the conference room" where they watched the second aeroplane hitting the World Trade Center live on television.

"We thought it was the end of New York City," Lee recalled. "It was this crazy escape from New York situation that day, you were trying to run away from anything that had significant cultural value."

The 110-storey World Trade Center towers were once the tallest buildings on the planet. Photo is by Jeffmock

His memories are echoed by many other architects working across the US that day, such as Adrian Smith of Adrian Smith + Gordon Gill Architecture, who was "stepping into a meeting with the Trump executives" regarding Trump Tower in Chicago when he heard about the attack.

Upon hearing the news, they also turned on the television and watched the tragedy unfold.

"We saw the building collapse," he recalled. "Everybody was in shock, in shock about that and how could a building like that actually collapse," he continued.

"That was a very significant moment in time for architects and structural engineers in particular. Initially, they all wondered whether we're going to do any more supertall buildings."

Architects felt "involved with the problem"

James von Klemperer, president of Kohn Pedersen Fox, describes the event as what felt like a "direct assault".

"It had a visceral effect because you woke up and the ash was in the air," he told Dezeen. "It was this kind of inescapable feeling that you were part of the disaster."

He added that architects everywhere felt "involved with the problem because we're the ones who design buildings".

"The shock that comes with seeing the most robust and unassailable structures turned into powder was almost tangible," he explained.

The site of the Twin Towers has now been rebuilt. Photo is by the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

Eui-Sung Yi, the Los Angeles partner of US studio Morphosis agreed, stating that the event serves as a continual reminder of the role of architecture.

"For architects, 9/11 always reaffirms in somewhat of a macabre way the relevance of architecture in terms of its role, not only in terms of symbolic nature but in terms of history," he told Dezeen.

"We're always just reminded of the responsibility, that impact on the community and the people."

"It changed everything for me"

For some architects, the impact of the event was more personal.

"At the time, my six-year-old daughter was living on the lower east side," recalled Andrew Waugh, co-founder of London studio Waugh Thistleton. "It was two days before I knew she was ok."

"I managed to get a flight about a week later and stayed in an empty hotel and the ash still thick on the ground," he continued. "It changed everything for me, I grew up."

For Dan Winey, chief operating officer at Gensler, the event made him reassess his role as an architect and "think a lot about why we do some of the things we do".

However, one of his most harrowing memories of the tragedy came in the weeks following when he went to view the site of the Twin Towers from a neighbouring high-rise.

The buildings surrounding the area had been covered in protective shrouds of fabric, he said, but because of the debris and dust, they had shredded and turned black.

Read:

"Everything changed in architecture" after 9/11 attacks says Daniel Libeskind

"These surrounding buildings looking down on the site with this shroud waving in the wind, it looked like a veil over somebody mourning," Winey explained. "It was just... it was something that I'll never forget."

Studio Fuksas' founder Doriana Fuksas said that after the "deeply shocking and tragic day" she "tried to seize 9/11 as a new starting point from which we could restart and move forward".

"Architecture is not conceived for war or violence," she told Dezeen, "in my vision architecture belongs to everyone, it is a space for peace and participation."

She added: "Experimentation and innovation had to keep up, facing the emergency and offering new scenarios for architecture and people."

9/11 exposed "inescapable symbolism of architecture"

Italian architect Carlo Ratti, who had just joined MIT at the time of the attack, said he was struck most by how the tragedy "exposed the inescapable symbolism of architecture".

"It is not unusual for a casus belli to cast the built environment at the centre of the scene," he told Dezeen.

"However, the way in which the World Trade Center towers embodied the American values, as well as the sheer scale of destruction – not to mention how fast the images were broadcast globally – made this event unique on so many levels," he explained.

The rebuilding followed the Ground Zero masterplan by Daniel Libeskind. Photo is by Hufton + Crow

Founder and director of FOOD Dong-Ping Wong recalled a similar feeling from when he watched the events unfold with his roommates as an architecture student.

"I never understood how powerful the symbolism of buildings could be until that point," he told Dezeen. "That it could directly result in life or death."

"That the destruction of a building and what it represented could change an entire country's philosophy on nationalism and foreignness for decades."

Trust "will take decades to rebuild"

At the time of the attack, Alexandra Hagen was a newly employed junior architect at White Arkitekter, where she now holds the position of CEO.

She remembers 9/11 as "one of those markers in time that so clearly has a defined before and after" and believes that its impact on the built environment is still clearly felt today.

"In a few hours it robbed us of trust that will take decades to rebuild," she said. "Doors to many public spaces that were previously open to explore were locked for security reasons and have since not been opened."

She continued: "Where trust was damaged it was replaced with surveillance and control. However, it is only through rebuilding trust that we will be able to maintain the open and democratic society that we strive for."

One World Trade Center was built on the site of the attack. Photo is by Hufton + Crow

For OMA partner Reinier de Graaf, "the real significance of the moment only manifests in hindsight".

"At the time of the attacks, I was in Brussels presenting our proposal for the Image of Europe," he told Dezeen, "I remember the presentation being interrupted by someone storming into the room holding a bunch of printed news from the internet."

"Since 9/11, the US has progressively lost its global dominance facing China as an ever-more assertive contender," he explained. "In the context of an increasingly polarized world, Europe was and is an important project to pursue."

Ground Zero architects felt "moral obligation to do good"

Despite the initial feelings that the tragedy could lead to the end of New York, just two years after the attack, Daniel Libeskind won a competition to masterplan the rebuilding of the 16-acre World Trade Center site.

One of the first buildings to be constructed there was the One World Trade Center, which was completed by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM) in 2014.

SOM partner Ken Lewis, who was project manager for One World Trade Center, describes working on the tower as "one of the greatest honours" of his career.

"It was an emotional experience in every way," he told Dezeen. "It had to be a symbol of New York's resilience in the face of disaster, a building that replaced the void in our skyline, as well as one of the most advanced towers in the world in terms of technology, life safety, and security."

Read:

9/11 anniversary: how the World Trade Center site was rebuilt

Georgina Robledo, a partner at Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners who led the design of the 3 World Trade Center tower, described working on Ground Zero as "emotional" and "one of my top experiences".

Meanwhile, the director in charge of 4 World Trade Center, Gary Kamemoto of Maki and Associates, said the project was "a tremendous honour".

"We felt such a moral obligation to do good for the general public," he told Dezeen.

"Out of the tragedy has come a very positive outcome"

Kamemoto added that, while 9/11 was a tragedy, he sees "something wonderful that has emerged from it".

"The beauty of the redevelopment was the memorial park... it is not a cemetery, it's actually a public asset," he explained. "We do miss the great architecture that Minoru Yamasaki had built, but out of the tragedy has come a very positive outcome."

British architect Thomas Heatherwick said: "Twenty years on, either despite 9/11 or maybe directly in defiance of it, the city's special confidence seems to have come back".

A memorial was also built on the site. Photo is by Alejandro Gonzalez

He added that the attacks illuminated the value of shared community spaces, which have become more important than ever.

"The only light that can come from the shadow of a horrific tragedy such as 9/11 is that perhaps we can all realise the intense importance of cherishing each other a little bit more," Heatherwick said.

"And in this new time of global loneliness, where the digital realm can unwittingly keep us physically apart from each other, the role of shared space where we can all truly see each other is more critical than ever."

9/11 anniversary

This article is part of Dezeen's 9/11 anniversary series marking the 20th anniversary of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center.

The main image is by Michael Foran via Wikimedia Commons.

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