#and then they “moved back” to america and realised america was the best country on earth etc etc soldier nonsense here

[eagle-head-charge]

Wait if onę of Spys kids were hypothetically (i think thats how you spell it) not American? Not saying that im not American or anything just wanna know

OOH, I LOVE HYPOTHETICALS!!!!!!

IF ONE OF SPY'S CHILDREN WEREN'T AMERICAN, THEY'D BE DISOWNED IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!! SPY IS A TRUE PATRIOT JUST LIKE ME, AND HE WOULD HAVE NO TOLERANCE FOR COMMIES IN OUR HOUSEHOLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND NEITHER WOULD I!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course, if they just speak commielanguage or used to live there but were BORN IN AMERICA, they're still AMERICANS and they still BLEED RED, WHITE AND BLUE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!!!!!!!!!!!! Spy was BORN IN AMERICA for example, and he just GREW UP IN FRANCE!!!!! BUT THEN HE REALISED IT WAS A COUNTRY FOR HIPPIES, SO HE MOVED BACK TO AMERICA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAKING HIM AN AMERICAN HERO!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND NOT A FRENCHIE!!!!!!!!!!!! HE'S AMERICAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That was fun!!! YOU DIDN'T NEED TO REMIND ME YOU'RE AN AMERICAN, MOTH CHILD, I KNOW THAT YOU ARE!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE ALL MY PATRIOT CHILDREN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wndaswife]

trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own. 

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers. 

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground. 

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence. 

Y/N — that was your name. 

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective. 

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic. 

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about. 

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base. 

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N. 

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too. 

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously piqued interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you. 

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you. 

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later. 

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly  thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party. 

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together. 

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd. 

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you. 

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you. 

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing. 

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern. 

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends. 

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out. 

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer. 

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to. 

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material. 

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team. 

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them. 

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless. 

But with you, it was different. 

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now. 

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain. 

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet. 

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon. 

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes. 

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony. 

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you. 

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now. 

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with. 

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside. 

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you. 

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you. 

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.” 

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone. 

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face. 

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong. 

She hoped she would never be right.

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part four)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve realises where home is, both in 2017 and in the 1950s. The reader bolts, faced with the memory of the woman Steve cherishes. Bucky starts to find himself drawn to you.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, angst

word count : 2.6k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

2017, a year after the Avengers' Civil War

It had been nearly four months of the arrangement that you and Steve shared. Hiding away in some remote cabin in Alaska.

Time was running out. You both knew you had to get a move on soon, as you can't stay in one place for too long.

If only you actually stayed put, and didn't cause Steve to worry almost every other week.

He quickly realized that you came and went when you pleased. A habit you must have picked up from your profession, one that Steve was sure would drive him to madness.

He was glaring at the newspaper he picked up from the nearest town when he made a supply run.

Your name was printed in bold lettering, along with your moniker, Huntress. Wanted for conspiring against the State, it read. You had been spotted in some other city, a blurred-out CCTV snapshot of your face included on the page.

If seen, please alert your local authorities. Suspected to be in hiding with Steve Rogers, famously known as Captain America. Reward to be disclosed.

Captain America. Steve never thought there would come a time when that name would leave a bad taste in his mouth, until now. He wondered what excuse you would have this time. Which person was it that you just needed to help? What was this important thing that justified suddenly leaving without telling Steve?

Steve hated your absence, but he knew he was being a hypocrite. He admired how eager you were to help your friends. If he was in your place, he would probably do the same.

He had begun thinking of the next plan. He knew he would always be welcome in Wakanda, but he didn't want to abuse their generosity. It would subject them to intense scrunity in the international political arena and they were already doing more than enough with just taking Bucky in.

No matter the next step, wherever the location, Steve found himself thinking of you. He would always think in terms of we, not I.

Where would we go next? Where would we be safe?

You were free to go wherever you wanted, of course. The others have been roaming different corners of the world, and maybe it was even safer that way, to spread out in those circumstances.

You could choose to go alone to a different hideout, and of course he would have to accept that.

But Steve didn't want you to leave him.

Why? What was he to you? What were you to him? Steve thought of how he never had the best timing. He knew there was something there, and you had to know it too.

He felt it whenever you would smile at him as he handed you your cup of coffee. He felt it in how comfortable it was when you would both read in silence at the opposite ends of the couch in the living room. He felt it in how much you cared, in how you understood his strong tether to Bucky.

And that small cabin was the biggest testament to it all. It was absurd, how much it felt like a home to Steve.

A home, while he was being hunted down and scorned by the country whose values he so proudly stood for and represented. A place of refuge, while everything else was in shambles.

He knew it was all because of you.

If only you would be quick in coming back home.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You didn't mean to leave abruptly again, without giving any notice.

Really, you swore you didn't.

You were also lying to yourself. Because you knew it was all because of what Steve mentioned a few nights prior.

Or rather, who.

It was all going well, you thought. You were getting to know your dangerously attractive housemate quite well. So much so, that you had decided he would be the first one you'd call if you ever got into trouble or needed a shoulder to cry on.

Natasha would understand, of course. She had been in contact, updating on her whereabouts, and also checking in on her apparent ship.

"Ship? Here in the woods?" You had been visibly confused, stupidly glancing out the window as if that very ship would materialise.

"No, you idiot. Ship... relationship. A couple. All the kids are using it these days."

Oh. You debated acting oblivious but you knew that would never fly with someone like Natasha. Nothing really got past her, and you had to admit, your excitement flared up a little bit every time she hinted at something between you and Steve.

Nat was one of the shrewdest people you ever met, and she didn't have the habit of stirring things for no reason.

So you believed her, and you hoped.

In that cabin, in that isolated little bubble, Steve was really all you had and vice versa. Selfishly, you wished you never had to leave. You found yourself imagining that you were an actual couple, maybe even married. That you had chosen to live together in that place, and that circumstances did not just force you together.

That image quickly came crashing down, the curtains closing in the middle of a play. Because that was all it was - make believe.

You and Steve were sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace one late night, your mind going haywire because his knee was pressed against yours. Your heartbeat skipping because he would pat your leg once in a while.

Maybe it was a Steve thing. Maybe it was just a gesture people make when they tell stories to their friends. But friends wouldn't lean in so close, would they?

He eagerly shared about his life in the 30s, when he was an asthmatic hundred-pound determined youngster. When he'd only ever been Steve. He kept a box of personal things that reminded him of his era, and the two of you perused through them. You smiled at the brochure from a museum exhibit that featured him and Bucky. Tried flicking on rusty old lighters. Jokingly saluted him while putting on the pins that were circulated when he was first introduced to the public as Captain America.

Your delusional self thought you noticed his focus drifting to your lips almost every time you replied to him, and that he got that look in his eyes.

But you reached in the box and picked up what looked like a compass. You pried it open, and one glance at his face told you everything.

In it was an image of Peggy Carter, you recognised. You knew all about her and her work for SHIELD. You knew her and Steve had been acquainted back in their day, but you didn't know how much.

He leaned back almost immediately, his touch no longer on you, looking like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Peggy Carter, right?" you offered eventually, balancing the compass in your palm. From what you can recall, she had passed recently. But clearly her ghost was still haunting Steve.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, strangely unable to look you in the eye. "I met her just before I was put to the serum, actually."

Well, that's definitely something. She knew him when he was just Steve, and she saw him. That must have left a mark.

"So... can you tell me about her?" you asked to fill the silence. To quell the barage of intrusive thoughts you had.

Steve noticed the difference in your posture, straightened back and stiff smile. You had been freely laughing moments ago, and he had been too. He wouldn't be able to remember what he said after that, distracted by the sudden coldness in your expression. He must have said something about Peggy being good at her job. About how big of an impact she made on SHIELD.

You didn't want to ask about the obvious thing, and you didn't have to. You could see it in his eyes.

You were also responding on auto-pilot. Like you were simply making small talk. The mood had changed, and you hated yourself for not looking into Steve's file with more detail. There must have been clues there about his past relationship with Peggy.

But if you had known... then what?

You would have fallen for him anyway. But at least, you would be aware that you were falling for someone who wasn't yours to keep.

Because if there ever was something, Peggy's unfading light is one you don't want to compete with.

You let the conversation go on for a few minutes more, to not arouse his suspicion, before making some excuse about being tired and needing sleep.

Hold on, you heard him plead. Maybe you can show him one of the movies you kept telling him about? The one with the Anakin character you liked?

You did your best not to cave in.

Even if all you wanted was to crumble, and kiss him hard enough that any remnants of Peggy Carter still lingering would dissipate.

When you heard that your friend Mason needed some help getting Secretary Ross off his tail, you jumped on the opportunity to leave. Even though Natasha already said she would be on it.

Of course, she saw right through you.

The task was quick and easy and soon enough, the three of you were sitting on lawn chairs in front of her cozy trailer in Norway, when Mason cheekily commented on the little arrangement you had with the Captain America.

"How do you do it?" he joked. "Being under the same roof as him, and not getting some of that? I mean, I know you're all international criminals right now, but even criminals need some loving once in a while."

"Leave her alone," Natasha quipped, pointing at him.

"We're friends," you said defensively, to which Nat raised her eyebrows at you.

"Sure, hon," she said, before taking a swig of her beer. "Shouldn't you be making your way back to him? Steve must be worried."

You shrugged, but you knew she was right. It didn't feel right being away from him like that. Running away like you were a teenager acting out.

It took you only two days to come back, with the help of one of Mason's many smuggled helicopters.

You felt his presence immediately once you stepped foot in the cabin.

Days old newspapers sprawled on the kitchen counter. Fresh coffee on the pot. The surprising but pleasant smell of baked goods coming from inside the oven.

He materialised from your periphery, wiping his hands clean on a towel. Clean-shaven once more, your eyes getting drawn to his pink lips now in clear view.

"Did you - "

"Oh, yeah," he said, gesturing towards the oven. "I tried making you something. Nat called me and said you were on your way back."

That traitor.

But then Steve added, "Welcome back," with that sheepish smile on his face, and you forgot what you were supposed to be pretending to be annoyed at Nat for.

It was comfortable, familiar, like home, when you both silently enjoyed the blueberry muffins he prepared.

You expected him to lecture you, to remind you of the dangers of running off by yourself again. But he took a gentler approach.

It felt good when he made sure you were okay, asking the same question but in three iterations. Are you okay? Did everything go well? Does anything hurt at all?

Did he know why you left so abruptly? Did he suspect anything?

Later that evening, he brought up the fact that perhaps you both should be moving on to another safe place.

You felt his eyes glued onto you, gauging your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you said, "Okay."

Steve had been practicing what to say, how to ask you, while you were away. He would suggest that you were safer together. That the two of you could go see Bucky for a time. That it was probably smarter for you to stick with someone like him - if you ever got caught, he could use himself as leverage, negotiate in order to lighten your sentence.

But all that was no longer needed, because you asked, "Where will we go?", without wavering.

We.

It turned out Steve wasn't going to lose his home, after all.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The 1950s, six months after Steve's arrival

Steve is certain that there must be something wrong with him.

Maybe he's just been in the fray for far too long, going from one fight to the next, that now he is supposed to settle and be at peace - he can't.

It disappoints him. He's frustrated with himself. He's become angry.

It's not fair. How does he still feel like a man out of time for someone who has returned back to where he supposedly came from. Back to where he belongs.

Peggy has noticed his frustration, so she suggested they head down to a local fancy restaurant once a week.

A recurring date of sorts, giving them the chance to spend one-on-one time together. They had both been busy - Peggy with SHIELD, Steve with his newfound job managing a local community centre.

His job was simple enough, definitely less demanding than what he's used to, and he's satisfied that he still gets to be of service. He's also refurbishing their home. Doing everything to keep busy.

Everything to keep you out of his mind.

But Hunter would stroll in when he would fit the new wooden panels for the back porch.

Hunter, his dog. Named so because Steve had the thought that Huntress would appreciate the tribute.

You would, but you aren't there.

He's supposed to be at peace now. He's supposed to finally feel at home.

But he wasn't called the man out of time for no reason, and he's come to accept that maybe they had been onto something.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, six months after Steve's departure

Bucky's date is going well. At least he thinks so. Not that he would have much knowledge on how these things go nowadays.

His first date as himself, James Barnes, since the 1940s. Leah's a lovely girl, but it was mostly due to yours and Yori's instigating that he caved in and asked her out.

Well, he didn't really ask. You did. But Leah was kind enough to accept.

The conversation is fine, flowing smoothly, a couple beers shared between the two.

Leah asks how old he is, and he replies dryly, "106."

Bucky isn't sure she got it, but it's better this way. She doesn't need to know who he is, or what he's done. She wouldn't understand.

As they play a round of Battleship, Bucky wonders if you would be good at this game, if you would playfully stare into his eyes much like Leah is doing.

He thinks of how much he likes your eyes, and the way you look at him.

But he is 106 after all, so he's not some fool. He suspects that he might be a stand-in for his revered lost bestfriend. Do you see him, and only him, or is he partially hidden behind Steve's shadow?

Do you keep him around, because he reminds you of him?

Bucky decides he's not ready to know the answer to those questions. Not just yet.

Leah makes another move. He lets her win.

He calls you right after the date. You did say that he should tell you all about it.

"So how was it?" you eagerly ask right away, not even bothering with a hello.

Bucky finds himself smiling at your voice, pausing on the sidewalk on the way back to his apartment, "Have you played Battleship before?"

Read chapter five here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer

Happy TTPD release day! I just knew The Bolter would be one of my favourites!!!

The final scene is in reference to the first episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Lil bit of a spoiler!!!! -- We'll see them all back together in the middle of that series.

There will only two-three more chapters of jumping back and forth in time. I'm also worried I'll confuse myself with the timeline. If the months/years aren't aligned with MCU canon, please ignore it.

Also - if not in the next one, then there will definitely be smut in chapter six. But with who???? Steve or Bucky? I'll let you guys speculate... 👀

[unhetalia]

soft usuk headcanon where america just hugs england after having a bad day or even nightmare.

This is a holdover from childhood. Arthur wasn't there a lot, but when he was, Alfred asked for hugs all the time. One time Alfred fell out of a tree and was just about to brush it off when he saw Arthur was beside himself. He quickly realised that it was not normal to fall out of trees and feel nothing, so he quickly turned on the waterworks so Arthur would hold him. Free hug!

(It fucks up his relationship with affection, this belief that there needs to be a Legitimate Reason in order to receive gentleness or love, but that's not what this is about!)

Nowadays, it's more complicated than that for Alfred. Americans aren't a high contact culture, and while I don't believe in Nations always being the embodiment of their countries' ideologies, when you're living amongst people who have a certain way of interacting, it absolutely has an impact, same as for any human.

As a result, Alfred is someone who is a little bit touch-starved. I think he wants more contact than he's able to get from the people around him. His best friend is an alien, his other best friend is fucking BELARUS.

Arthur, on the other hand, isn't lacking in physical contact, if you know what I mean. He's traced every curve of a woman's body; held a man down and fucked them until they begged. He's been clung to, held tight, clawed in passion.

But Arthur rarely touches people when he's not fucking them - hasn't been touched by someone who wants affection, or is offering it to him.

The first time Alfred hugged Arthur to seek out comfort post-independence was in 1950. Alfred had come out of World War II incredibly jaded - it was only the third time he'd ever revealed himself to and worked with his government, and they'd gone behind his back and dropped two atom bombs. Alfred left after, though President Truman had tried his best to get him to stay, promising him that because of what they'd done, there would be no more wars.

Five year later, the U.S enters the Korean War. Alfred is with Arthur when he hears the news, and to say he's gutted would be an understatement. He must've looked devastated, because Arthur moves to stand in front of him and makes to put a hand on his shoulder. Instead, Alfred just... falls into him, face in his chest, holding him tightly and crying his heart out. Arthur is stumped for a minute before he wraps his arms around Alfred, starts shushing him like he's a child again. Telling him it's going to be okay.

Alfred would lie awake that night thinking about how different Arthur felt from when he was a child; how, in fact, being held by Arthur in that moment hadn't felt like his childhood at all. Alfred doesn't quite realise it's because he's in love with Arthur, but he learns - or re-learns - the power of physical affection.

This lesson impacts Arthur because not only does Alfred begin seeking him out for comfort (which stops him in his tracks every time), he offers that same comfort without prompting.

Arthur is seething during a meeting after receiving several ridiculous reports, and yes, he's shouting and terrifying everyone, especially Antonio, who is very aware Arthur still carries a sword around, when suddenly Alfred stands up, marches towards him, and pulls him into a hug and says "chill out, dude, everything's gonna be fine!"

The world watches Arthur almost physically deflate. When Alfred pulls away and walks back to his seat, Arthur will finally take a deep breath. "Well... it's not the end of the world, I guess. We'll need to rearrange a few things, but it's fixable."

Witnessing this, everyone decides that it doesn't matter that their relationships don't reflect the geopolitical climate: Alfred truly is a superpower.

[Note: All my headcanons unless states otherwise exist in a universe where Hetalia characters are independent of their government. Their roles are to protect the land and the people, and often this requires them to work against their governments. Despite Nations being a representative of a country, their work to protect the land and people goes beyond boarders, and while Nations have personal relationships that involve liking and disliking others, this does not impede on their work and is not tied to their country's politics.]

[theaceofwords]

Like. We do very much all understand that Russia is trying to interfere in all western elections, right? Russia, China, and Iran have ideological and territorial goals which they cannot realise in the existing global status quo.

Russia wants Ukraine (and really I think they want as much of Europe as they can get). They want to own it, stomp out everybody who fights back, and force them all to speak Russian. But they know also that the EU (and, I guess, NATO, the e bugs of the situation) will supply Ukraine with weapons as long as they keep fighting (which I also think is monstrous, frankly, but that's another thread).

China's government wants Taiwan. The US has been one of Taiwan's most vehement allies (which. you know. not always a good thing), but until recently it was taken as a simple fact that any move China made towards Taiwan would get stomped into the channel by the nearest US aircraft carrier.

Iran's leadership wants more regional control--they sponsor a variety of, let's say passionate nongovernmental activists, throughout the surrounding nations, and their current government is pretty strongly opposed to "modern" (Western) values like freedom of speech, human rights, etc. They're also pretty boxed-in by nations which are propped up by oil money, mostly US oil money.

These nations are coordinating. We know this for a fact; in the most obvious example, Russia is using Iranian drones and Chinese manufacturing to supply its ongoing violence against Ukraine. They all understand that their foreign policy objectives are perfectly compatible, and in fact more than compatible, are mutually reinforcing--because the cases of Ukraine and Taiwan are analogous, these industrial/agricultural centers which are not ostensibly part of regional alliances but which have been trying to join the modern world for decades.

But here's the thing. Now we have these hard-right political movements brewing throughout Europe and the Americas. Not by accident--hard-right groups are coordinating and sharing notes in south, central, and north America, as well as in the EU. And these hard-right political parties are not at all interested in the status quo of Western force projection--they take an isolationist, authoritarian view of foreign policy where the great powers do what they like and the small countries deal with it and are absorbed.

Russia, China, Iran, and the smaller, shittier nations that work with them (the governments of which are shut out of the modern world largely for being such shitbag authoritarian despots that even the US can't swallow working with them)--these nations all recognize that their best chance to achieve their goals is to help the hard right win in Europe. In America. Everywhere. Anywhere they can get someone into party who, like Trump, will refuse to honor treaties with Ukraine and Taiwan--who will go on record saying that he doesn't give a shit about Europe, that the US should pull out of NATO.

This is the state of the world. Do you understand that this is the state of the world? This is why Russia/China are pushing such massive disinformation on the internet, why there is so much pro-PRC and pro-Russian brigading on reddit and Twitter and Tumblr. It's not because they're nebulously evil Red Threats that we think are malevolent for no reason. They have extremely specific policy goals which they cannot achieve without a shift in the current world order. This means they have a strong interest in changing the world order as quickly and radically as possible.

These relationships are not the matter of speculation. These are not my personal conspiracy theories, they are facts. The A to B in this situation is extraordinarily clear.

The internet is not a neutral ground. There are hostile actors here who have decided that the internet is one of the best means by which to realise goals which are antithetical to free, open, and civilized society. You cannot take information here at face value. You must do your own research, confirm facts across multiple sources with different interests, draw and hold your own convictions and change your opinions when the evidence dictates it.

And above all else, do not be taken in by the idea that the world is awful and nothing can be done to save it. That nihilism is being pushed upon you. If you believe the world can do nothing, there is no point in defending Ukraine. If you believe the world is beyond saving, there's no reason to recognize Taiwan. If you believe both sides are awful, there is no point to pressing for Palestinian statehood.

Apathy does not serve a brighter tomorrow--because the world never remains good. It is made good every day by the effort of billions. The world we live in is the result of centuries of people giving their lives to push the needle further to peace. To international cooperation and understanding.

Get your head in the game. It's the only game going around here. You're playing whether you like it or not, so you might as well know who you're playing against.

[popcornforone]

More Than Friends

A Dieter Bravo fan fic

Happy birthday to me. Yes today (Halloween) is my birthday & I wanted to write a fic for me about something super romantic that could happen on your birthday. I had a similar dream to this a while ago so I thought Dieter would be the best person to write this for.

Synopsis: You are in America with your sister celebrating your birthday, your best friend & flat mate Dieter is in England working. But he wants to give you the best birthday present ever, no matter how crazy it is.

Word count:3600

Warnings: this is mainly fluff & romantic, but probably best for DONOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Secretly fancying your best friends. Swearing, drinking, a little bit of being over dramatic, thinking of what could be ideas of fantasies, death. It is mainly fluffy tho so

Thanks as always for the read peoples. I hope you enjoy this. All feed back is welcome.

OOOH & HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

“Jen” you shout as you run to your sister at the airport. You may now both live in the same country once again, but finding the time to see her is hard. You’re now finally getting praise for your acting & have 2 weeks off before you’re needed for the next part you will be appearing in on this fabulous HBO reboot. Your sister isn’t exactly quiet. Her 5 month old Dylan keeps her busy, she’s not looking forward to going back to work soon from her maternity leave. Her husband Lance is already taking advantage of her being home more than she usually is. So this next week with your sister is going to be brilliant. Just going back to being you, quirky & weird & normal, not the famous actor the world thinks they know.

The hug the two of you have is special. It’s not been long since you saw her, your grandads funeral 2months ago was the last time you saw her back in England. But it was at this event when you realised you wanted to be more than friends with your most famous best friend. He might have a drinking problem, take a few too many drugs, & be a party boy, but when Dieter Bravo turned up at your Grandads funeral it melted your heart. He’d met him 3 times in the 5 years you’ve known Dieter & your grandad always thought he was a very “eccentric character”. But it was as you saw him just standing around the back, not mingling before the hearse arrived that you cried. His hug & the stroke of the back of your hair, soothed you instantly.

“It okay, I’m here, I couldn’t have you go through this alone” Dieter had whispered as you held onto him.

“Shouldn’t you be…”

“Yes but when it’s a family emergency they said I could go & you are like a sister to me…” straight away put in the friend zone again by your crush. You’re used to it though, it no longer affects you. “& you live with me so…” you had smiled at that comment. When you worked on that Tv show that changed your life, Dieter had a role as a recurring guest character, you’d met him before on another job & he helped you calm your nerves. So when there was damage to your hotel in a fire, he was insistent you moved in with him. He had a girlfriend & a boyfriend at the time & you were in a relationship too, so it just worked. No one suspected a thing & knew you were just colleagues & friends. You then just never moved out. You left him money to pay bill & whenever he worked in the uk he always used your place if he was near. You’d always fancied Dieter, who wouldn’t fall for those eyes & that charisma, there was a reason why when he asked anyone do you want to have sex with me they answered yes. He’s just never asked you & one of you has always been in a relationship until the day after the funeral, when your boyfriend at the time saw how you & Dieter we’re with each other & told you to go & find happiness the next day. unfortunately you didn’t act on your feelings with Dieter, knowing he’s in London & your in New York at the moment, it needed to be the right time to act on this & not just jump straight back in.

As you arrive at your sister place & put your things in her guest room your phone rings, so you answer it.

“Ello”

“Babes” your face lights up straight away. Dieter always mocks your English accent & how you call people babes. Your sister sees your eyes ignite in desire so you pull the door to in your guest room & sit on the bed.

“Diets… you ok?”

“No it’s bloody raining again”

“Thats the London autumn for you”

“I know I know, but you never said it was this unpredictable the weather here”

“I’m English it’s normal” he laughs down the phone at that.

“So what making you call at 7pm, did your date not arrive for dinner?” You mock. If Dieter doesn’t have at least one casual date a week, he gets grumpy.

“Ha no, night shoot tonight… we’re actually nearly done in scheduale for once here”

“Well that’s a first”

“So what are your birthday plans? where’s the party at?” He asks enthusiastically. Your stumped. You have no party planned. You know you’re going to be in England for Christmas this year, & all your friends came over at the end of September to see you in New York so your plan is actually quite mundane. Your birthday is also Halloween.

“I’m in Seattle”

“Seattle?”

“Is there an echo?” You both giggle. “I’m seeing Jen, Lance & little Dylan this week, family bonding, you know, I have no idea what they have planned for my birthday.” It’s true you don’t know what your sisters going to do. Your birthday is a Tuesday this year & it’s currently the Friday before.

“Awww how old is Dylan now”

“Not old enough for you to take out drinking”

“Damn it, I wanted to use him as a girl magnet, the ladies love the caring dad side”

“I think they just would like a night with a movie star Diets” you smile down the phone which he can sense down his end.

“Well I’d best rearrange your gift to your sister address then”

“You didn’t have to get me anything”

“I know but after your year which to say has been crazy is an understatement, you need a treat”

“Well thank you in advanced” you pause & so does Dieter you both sigh down the phone. A million words that you want to tell him about how you feel & that you’d just like to live a normal life with Dieter somewhere away from the rest of the world. No fame, no money, no press, just you & Dieter.

“Hey…” he says

“Yes…”

“I…” & then you hear someone shout in the background & him reply.”sorry I’m Needed back on set, I’ll give you a call on your birthday okay”

“Don’t go being a twat Diets” you say quoting hot fuzz a film you both love to laugh to.

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction babes” & he hangs up. You secretly wish Dieter would more than satisfy you.

As Dieter hangs up the phone he automatically texts your sister to plan a birthday you won’t forget in a long time, to make sure she is okay & that this can go with her plans she may already have in place.

You smile to yourself as you get things out of your bag. Just hearing his voice makes you feel so much better, not that you were feeling down at all. As you leave the guest bedroom a few minutes later your sister is standing there judging you. Before you speak she cuts you off.

“I heard enough, I know that tone,” she looks down at her phone & see a message from Dieter.

“I just live with the guy, we’re friends, we…” but you see your sisters face & you do a little smirk. “I don’t just want to be another broken-hearted girl without him, so I will settle for what I have.”

“Are you happy with that?” She asks. You pause unsure if you are, but you are saved by Dylan crying. “I’ll get an answer from you one day sis”

*

Dieter after texting your sister goes to set. Ever the professions for his work, making sure everyone’s okay, down to the riggers & runners. He has the playboy life style in the press but working Dieter is a consummate professional. He does his last shoot for today & heads back to his trailer to get changed. He shuts the door & puts his phone on the dressing table. The mirror he sighs & stares into has photos of him on the shoot & in make up for reference’s & a few family photos too. But noone knows there’s a hidden one beneath 3 of them. His day has been long but he can stay here another 3 minutes to look at the happiest picture he has of the two of you. The one taken After the premier of the Tv show that made you a global star, the after party which everyone in the world was at. You had a boyfriend at the time, but that didn’t stop the two of you from dancing together that night as friends. The theme tune to the show was a custom song written by Ed Sheeran which was slow. Dieter remember how you trembled as he wrapped his arms around you & you both sang the lyrics outloud as Ed performed for actors, crew, press & vips of the event. This was a photo the in show photographer got. Neither of you are looking at the camera as he holds you. Your eyes are shut as you sing out loud one band in the air waving the other holding onto Dieters & his eyes are dazzling. It’s at this exact moment when Dieter realised he wanted you to be in his life more than a friend but this was 18 months ago & since then you’ve both had plenty of work, drama & heart breaks to stop either of you acting on any of this.

Dieter sighs at the photo & then runs his hands through his thick luscious hair.

“I must be fucking crazy”

He leans & takes his phone & calls his agent.

“Mel, got a second?” She mumbles something back “no it’s not that kind of emergency, I need you to sort something out for me quickly, whatever it costs & whoever this upsets, please explain this needs to be done”…

*

Tuesday arrives. You face time your parents while you & your sister have breakfast. You’ve decided to go on a lake walk & then lunch for your birthday with Jen, a nice chilled fun day. No worrys, no distractions. Just some nice Seattle air, if you can call it that in any major city just being you. Lance has promised to pick you all up some Chinese food for tonight. You’ve put Prosecco in the fridge already. It’s low-key but it’s what you want for your birthday celebration. No more costume parties taking over your special day.

Jens opened the Prosecco & you’re both sitting at the breakfast bar waiting for Lance to return with so much crispy chilli beef & lemon chicken that you will all go into a food coma.

“Dylan, what’s this?” You say in your child friendly voice. He laughs back as you play with Mr Ducky his favourite teddy bear & do the quack noises. His face is amazed & he keeps trying to clap his hand as he sits on the counter.

“No no” Jen screeches as you quickly move the fizz away.

“You mummy Dylan doesn’t want you to end up like your aunty, & it’s a shame your American, no drinking until your 21”

“Ha” Jen laughs “if he is anything like you & me he’ll have hangovers at 14”

“Ahh those were the days” you both joke. Your parents were always very liberal with letting you drink. They much rather you did it in front of them then sneak out & did it.

“Oooh Dylan” you then get a sniff of him. Jen smells it too.

“Did you do a number two” Dylan cackles & the two of you laugh when the front door goes. “Go let Lance in” Jen asks as she grabs the nappy bag.

“Oooh so demanding” you say sarcastically back. You put your glass of Prosecco down & head for the door. There’s a sign on it that says help yourself to the sweets in the box for trick or treaters. You open the door & then freeze on the spot.

Dieter is here.

Dieter is in Seattle, not London.

Dieter is at your sisters front door, in the drizzle, as the autumnal leaves fall, on your birthday.

Dieter is here.

“D…D…Di…Dieter?” Your pitch is all over the place, you’re sure your heart has stopped beating. Your eyes meet. Those dark seductive caramels stare at your trembling lips. He’s put a comb through his hair. It’s still a mess as he’s clearly taken his hoodie down as he rang the bell, his hand ruffling through it, that’s his little adorable tick that you cherish each time he does it when he’s nervous.

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Hi”

Neither of you can say anything else. You then decide to step outside & leave the door on the latch & stand with him on the porch.

“What are you doing here?” You eventually after a few minutes of silence trying to work out what you’re both going to say to each other. Everything he had prepped on the flight over & practiced in the hotel room before he left to get here, have all gone out of the window. He’s nervous, this all seemed so much easier in his head over the last few days, but he’s now reduced to just being a man. But it’s the only man you will ever need.

“To wish you a happy birthday I guess… erm so happy birthday…” he’s rubbing his beard as he says it & shifts awkwardly.

“Okay you said that now… thanks… bye” you joke & then so see his face drop. “You’ve still not quite understood after all these years, my sarcasm haven’t you Diets?”

“No, almost, you & your family also have your own unique language” he smiles. The smile is warm & friendly.

“I can’t believe you are actually here to wish me a happy birthday” You beam back at him & push your own messy hair away from your face.

“Couldnt not see you babes” he being genuine in his response, even his mockery of your accent seems adorable.

“I just can’t believe you flew thousands of miles to come & wish me a happy birthday, unless your here for a…”

“No just you, no other work” he interrupts. His puppy dog eyes more loyal & huge than ever. “You deserve the world & I wanted to see how happy you were on your special day”

You fling your arms around Dieters neck & hug him. It catches him by surprise to start with, but the way he holds you a few second later & the sigh that escapes his mouth just confirms he did the right thing. His hand goes across you shoulders & you start to feel weak at his touch. A hug that can solve all the worlds problems.

“You must really like me to fly half way around the world babes…” you whisper into his ear.

“Well actually…” Dieter breaks the hug & drops to one knee. “I think I more than like you” he holds your left hand. “Marry Me?”

You’re in shock, you knew you wanted more than just friendship with Dieter but he’s not even kissed you yet.

“Dieter!? I don’t know what to say”

“Yes?” He winks as his hand strokes yours.

“No”

“No?”

“No… well” you don’t want to turn him down but you want to show him how crazy this is. “Dieter we might be close friends who live with each other but you’ve not even kissed me yet, let alone asked me out or…” you’re interrupted. Dieter is on his feet again, his hand trailing around your face. Intense eye contact & then the most loved filled kiss of either of your lives. His lips feel smooth, the way his moustache tickles makes you smile which make him deepen the kiss. His hands move through your hair & waistline, both yours are on his shoulders. It was probably all of 5second the kiss but time stood still & it felt so fabulous & just right.

“Okay”he says breathily as you break this kiss”… now will you…”

“No” you say before going back in for another kiss, allowing his tongue to explore. You know how good his tongue is, you’ve heard men & women leave his bedroom in your New York apartment thanking him for the oral experience of their life.

“Why not, I love you?” Dieter says as he goes in for the next kiss, you take a step back though, this is all too much to process for you.

“Dieter, I like you, a lot, & in a similar way to you, & yes we don’t have to do the whole getting to know each other but, I’d like to go out for dinner, take this part of our relationship slow, so we both understand each others needs & pleasures. Does that make sense, because once I am happy with that, you can ask me again & I’ll say yes” Dieter eyes widen, it’s not an instant yes, but he knew he’d get one, be it in a day, week, month or year, he’d give you all the time in the world.

“So that’s a one day then, it’s not a no?”

“Yes”

You both stand there & giggle & hug each other before you kiss his lips quickly & shortly. A simple peck but you now know these lips will soon be all over each inch of your body.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner tomorrow, if that’s okay, if we are going to do this your way, I’d then at least like one date”

“Dieter you should no I don’t put out on a first…”

“Bollocks you don’t put out on a first date, I’ve heard you get with guys on nights out or…”

“You gonna let me finish” you say a bit forcefully which makes him twitch in his trousers. It’s always aroused him when a woman knows what she wants & is firm about it. “If you’d let me carry on, I’d have said but with you Diets, your more than an exception to my rule, I mean it’s taken us years to get to this point” your blushing as you say this. “If dinner goes well tomorrow, I might just have to come back to your hotel room” Dieter is now also turning red. Often especially for the last year, has he thought about how he would pleasure you, if your cunt is to die for. He wants to experience everything with you & wants to make you feel special & sexy.

“Well if that’s the case, I’ll upgrade my room”He laughs.

“Why baby, all we need is a bed” he raises an eyebrow at you.

“No baby, if you consent tomorrow, you get the full Dieter experience, I want to treat you like the princess you are, such a good girl for waiting for me to get my act together. To have the courage to tell you how I feel” his hands tremble as they hold yours. He really is in love with you. “Anyone else whod have spoken to me like you have in the last 10 minutes or for the last few years if I’m honest I’d not care, but you baby, I never want to lose you. I want us to be forever. I want to organise our work & lives so we’re in the same continent at the same time & I really just want you to be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just to see you smile once a day.”

“That’s all I ever aspire to Diets…” you take a deep breath. “I want you to be happy no matter what you do, & if that means I’m just a friend, a room mate, a lover or more, I’ve always been happy to wait because just 5minutes with you feels like a life time of memories” both yours & Dieters eyes fill as you speak. He knows you love him. & so do you. But you just want to wait. Those 3 little words will fall from your lips soon. But your lips are once again preoccupied with Dieters, making out as the moon rises behind the autumnal leaves.

You phone buzzes & causes the two of you to break from the kiss. It’s your sister.

*when you two are done renewing your wedding vows before you even agree to them, the Chinese is getting cold.

“Lying bitch”you say & Dieter smiles.

“Who”

“Jen, she said…”you look at Dieter”you already knew the Chinese was here didn’t you?” You playfully hit Dieter & he scoops you up & carries you inside as you scream in hysterics. “Diets put me down”

“Never” you kick & laugh & Jen & Lance roll their eyes as he brings you back in. He puts you down. “I’m never letting go of you again babes” He kisses you & then apologised to Jen & Lance.

“Well it took you long enough to ask her Dieter” Lance says.

“We can’t all meet the love of our lives at the first day of college can we, sometimes it just takes a little time to realise what you want in life” Dieter says as you realise that enough food was ordered for all four of us.

“I know what I want Diets…” you mumble into another sweet kiss, his lips now feel like they have been yours for years. “I want you” a small sigh happens & then you both say in unison. “& some chilly beef” you both laugh & sit down to eat with your family, with Dieter now a firm addition to to your life as more than just a friend.

[midnightrainrp]

@spellbindingnights​

When her family moved to America, she was promised beautiful things and a dreamy life and she’d bought her parent’s speech as she arrived to the country with expectant eyes and an unbreakable illusion. Nothing was as she’d hoped though, finding life in the States to be just as hard as it had been before, having to face the loss and dismemberent of her family, as well as the struggles of having to get by on her own, constantly turned down by people who thought they were better than her purely because of her accent. America wasn’t the dream land she’d been promised but somehow she’d made it through so far. 

So far, because thanks to her horrific ex-husband, she was now being hunted down by people she didn’t even know. Katarina had always been a strong woman trying to fend on her own, only ever letting her guard down when she got married but for the sole purpose of focusing on her studies. That was enough for the man to go behind her back and cheat on her several times all the while treating her like utmost shit. Enough was enough and without thinking much, she’d handled things as best as she thought possible at the time, unaware of the consequences she’d brought on herself.

So far, because they did get to her. The last few weeks she’d managed to avoid them, but it consumed her. Her luck met its end as three men jumped her in a dark alley on her way home, giving her no chance to fight back as she only managed to punch one of them in the nose before she was overpowered. It wasn’t her first beating so she knew how to take it, trying to keep the punches and kicks as superficially as she could, guarding herself from inner injuries by curling up on the floor. Pain irradiated on her face as she could feel her cheeks getting numb, certain that it was swelling and a bruise was about to appear. She couldn’t really wave in the damage, having shut down enough not to feel much. She could taste blood on her lips, running her tongue over them to realise it was parted open, as soon as the men left.

Her limbs hurt as she stood up slowly, only now aware of the many spots she'd been hit and expecting to see her pale skin coloured purple the next day. Thankfully nothing was broken, she could tell as much as she began walking over to the only place she had left to go, a place she should've gone much earlier on, even before taking matters with her ex-husband in her own hands. The blonde was already in the neighborhood, her current apartment not too far away, so it didn't take long before she was at the doorstep of the bar where she'd spent more nights than she could remember. Whiping the blood from her lip with the cuff of her long sleeved dress, wincing as her cheek throbbed with pain, she walked inside and straight to his office, thankful it was too late for anyone to be there to see her in such state. She knew, though, that he was there. Knocking softly before allowing herself in, the girl whispered as she saw the familiar figure, only now realizing how long it had been. “Hi...”

[wizisbored]

Do the maitlands get along okay with nimona? How did the first meeting between Charles, delia and ambrosis and ballistor go, because they probably had an interesting start as well with the secrets on both sides going on.

the maitlands are a little hesitant about her at first, since they see a lot of beetlejuice in her and are a little worried about lydia becoming friends with somebody else like that. they reason, though, that it isnt fair to compare an excitable, though seemingly troubled teenager who just moved continents (without her parents, for whatever reason) to a literal demon, and resolve to do their best to give the kid a chance. they have to be supportive of Lydia finding a friend her age, after all. once everything is out in the open they realise how right they actually were initially, but at that point they're already attatched. sure, shes cocky and quick to suggest violence and not actually a teenager at all, but shes also still very much a kid in need of support and after lydia they just sort of take her in instinctively. on nimona's side, she doesn't really get why lydia likes them at first - theyre just so normal and boring. but as it turns out, sometimes a couple of admittedly quite normal but also gentle and kind adults are just what you need.

as for the first meeting, it is in fact a bit odd but that's partially for rather understandable reasons. charles and delia come to introduce themselves a day, maybe two days after the move - the move which consisted of getting up in the early hours of the morning to get a cab out of the kingdom to the coast, to get a ferry to the nearest country with an airport because the kingdom doesnt have one yet, to get a plane to america and then finally a taxi to winter river. and as if that wasn't enough, trying to sleep somewhere that doesnt feel like a safe place yet after all that leads to nimona having nightmares again, so ballister is pretty much up all night with her as well. when charles and delia come over the three of them are exhausted, and this whole conversation then happens in their second language.

but anyway, by this point charles and delia are quite used to simply not mentioning the supernatural members of their household, but the 'nimona is ballisters 17 year old niece' cover story is still pretty new. so its a case of charles' general awkwardness and delias general delia-ness vs ambrosius immediately going into Adressing the Public mode and ballister desperately trying to figure out what a believable uncle acts like on 3 hours of sleep all while their most confident english speaker is so overtired she's looped right back around to hyperactive. not the worlds most productive conversation, and tbh the dinner invite was partially a 'lets reconviene when youre more awake'

[hotasfahrenheit]

working on processing my feelings about both the Only Friends finale and the series in general and i know i've already posted a lot about how i see myself and my friend groups and people i know in these characters and that's part of how i know this show was well done even if other people think it was a mess.

specifically right now, i keep thinking about when -i- was 22, a friend "stole" my boyfriend and how MY response to that was to not speak to the friend for six entire months, which was painful for both of us, but to also forgive the dude right away and continue being best friends with him. the fact that i was still in love with him definitely helped, but now i can look back on that and know that our relationship wasn't working and would have ended anyway, he was just as culpable as she was in the whole situation for how they went about things, and how i handled my responses was unfair and shitty.

i thought i would never want to be friends with her again, but after a few months i realised how much i missed her and our friendship and we eventually settled back into being friends again. (especially after they also inevitably broke up- she and i have since basically lived together on and off, traveled to foreign countries together, flown back and forth across north america to see each other different places as we've both moved around, etc.)

so like... should i really be judging Mew for forgiving Top but not Boston, and for how shitty he's being to Boston still by the end? didn't I do basically the same thing to someone one time? maybe after Boston has been gone long enough, Mew will realise he's been an ass and will be willing to work on their relationship. maybe he'll show up for that new years eve.

but i doubt it. prior to the relationship explosion, i didn't judge my friend for her lifestyle or have an unwarranted sense of superiority about who i was in comparison to her. i didn't judge her life choices by holding them up to some kind of vague mostly unexplained moral code that i used to decide if people were doing tht right things or not. i wouldn't have tried to destroy her life with any secrets or even implied that i could or would, no matter how badly i was hurt.

but at the same time, as much as i dislike Mew (but love Book- he's done an INCREDIBLE job making me hate his character) i can see the realistic grounding for his reaction and behavior and the hypocrisy of it, because i've done almost the exact same thing. i hate how relatable i find his unwillingness to give Boston any leniency or grace because me as the human i am now has found those things for Boston in myself, but i know that the me of the age of these characters would have also wanted Boston to just go away forever and be unforgiven.

idk. i just love how much this show has forced me to reflect on my youth in ways i definitely didn't expect it would when i heard the siren song of the promise of a messy show with lots of kissing. i love how real so many of the struggles and problems have felt, how they've been pulled from real lives instead of just tv drama tropes. i love how complex the characters are and how real they feel and how i feel like i really do know all of them, because in different ways, all of them are pieces of my friends or people i have known.... or are pieces of me.

[rose-henry]

stressed+excited+happy+nervous+restless but mostly excited. it’s been a chaotic few days but I’m ready and at peace with this 7 month journey in front of me. feeling so so privileged to be able to live my life like this and witness whatever I’m about to witness :)

today april made brekkie for us!! challah french toast, maple butter and coffees at 8am 😍 bless her soul for getting up and doing this on the first day on school holidays

then maddy was the best person in the world as usual and helped me organise my life by printing all my important travel documents for me and then helping me pack all my last things and clean my whole room to be the guest room in the house (!) alex came over and we had pesto pasta and finished the packing and cleaning and they made me so calm 🥰

then I had a little mandatory in person exchange pre-departure session at uni until 4:15 (getting ready to leave the house at 6pm to go to the airport) and I had a rapid 30 minutes at home before our last family dinner. I had a breakdown and cried in my room (for one last time) about leaving everything behind for so long but then I realised how lucky I am and I still wouldn’t change my travel plans if I could… I’m content with my plans and there was no need to cry! so silly…

at the airport thien starting calling and texting me and he was stuck in tahiti and there was all this drama so there was a possibility that they wouldn’t let him into the US!!! as if his 24+ hour delay on the trip to LA could get worse. long story short we ended up sitting outside the departure gate, with my parents and april still, all on the phone to thien and researching and helping him. he needed my parents cause they know more than anyone else he knows about USA visas and fuckery. in the end he had to book a return flight (which we hadn’t booked yet) from LA for the end of jan (the date of which we hadn’t decided yet, now it’s decided for us) in tahiti on his layover where he was never supposed to be in the first place. he’s now flying from tahiti to LA and doesn’t know if they’ll actually let him into the country so I’m now just stressed about thien and completely fine for my whole trip. literally fuck america and their government and immigration laws. no one ever move there please.

after all that fuckery I returned to my family and said our proper goodbyes, they felt rushed and not right at all but they had to be done and it’s all okay now. I cried a bit through the security line after leaving them, I kept turning back around as I was walking away to see them and they stayed forever still waving and smiling, until once I turned around and they weren’t there anymore :(

anyway…. after all of that I am finally resting and at peace at gate 7. it’s 8:25pm and boarding is at 8:35! I’m so excited for singapore airport and my ultimate deli sandwich that I made for myself at my last day of work at the market yesterday.

bye melbourne 👋

[forabeatofadrum]

Just Some Guy (9/9) - COMPLETE

AO3

–

Epilogue

MATT

My mum is loaded, so I can afford to take a gap year to travel. I’m going to America with John and Leslie for a cross-country road trip for a couple of weeks. I will visit the Cordero family, of course. John bemoans that the city of Samwell doesn’t exist in this universe, or something, so we’re making a stop at Providence since that’s ‘the next best thing’ or whatever. Leslie really wants to see Ohio for some reason. Apart from that, we have no concrete plans.

What will I do afterwards? I don’t know. I can go to university, like Luis, Scott and Sam. I can try to find a place where I can enrol in February. Or I could look for a job, like Ryan and Arnold.

We’ve graduated. Our entire life is in front of us.

John tells me not to worry, since my story will be over anyway. That’s so weird, because I feel like I am only just at the beginning.

I tell him that.

“No, really, man, this fic will be over in a couple of paragraphs,” he says back, “Around 300 words left!”

As usual, I don’t know what he means. The two of us are walking up a flight of stairs. We’re visiting my mum. She moved to a new flat in Camberwell and there’s an extra room. I will move in here after I come back from my road trip, because I like the idea of living in London and I miss my mum.

We leave the stairwell and go through the door that leads to my mum’s floor when I see someone in front of one of the flat’s doors.

This guy is on his phone, leaning against the wall. He’s wearing a floral top and jeans. A large bag is slung over his shoulder and he’s holding a huge water bottle in his other hand.

I didn’t recognise him for a second, with his hair loose like that and with a casual look, but it’s Baz Pitch.

What the fuck? What is Baz Pitch doing in my mum’s hallway?

He hasn’t noticed us yet, too engrossed in whatever’s on his phone. We pass him without a word and quickly enter my mum’s flat before he can notice us.

“Mum?” I yell out.

My mum emerges from the kitchen. Her hands are covered in flour.

“Yes, dear?” she asks.

“Why is- I mean, there’s a guy loitering around at number 61!” I say. Does my mum even know that’s Baz Pitch, the Pitch Heir? Even I had troubles recognising him and I just spent 8 years in the same class as him.

“Oh, that handsome young man?” my mum laughs, “The neighbours joke that he haunts that door day and night! They should just give him a key already.”

“… They?” I ask, but I can already feel the dread building up.

“His boyfriend lives there,” my mum says lightly, “I haven’t actually seen him yet, since I am often at work, but I know that he lives there with a friend.”

Baz Pitch’s boyfriend.

That means…

Simon Snow.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

--

End notes:

Hey yo it's John Johnson here. The author told me I have the privilege to write the last author's note but also who are we kidding? We all know it's still the author putting the words in my metaphorical mouth. ANYWAY supes thanks for reading. Watching Matty grow up from a strapping young lad to a full-blown adult has been a real treat and I hope you liked seeing his story unfold as much as I did. Or maybe not. I mean, brah, I was part of it lol. (Can I make Matty meet Jack and Bitty? How does this work? I mean, I also already met Kurt Hummel in another fic of the author, so everything is possible.) But yeah thanks a lot for reading. I can tell you the author absolutely loved writing it and sharing it with you.

It's so funny, cause chapter 8 was the last one, but then Annie letraspal made some gorgeous fanart (which is linked in this chapter) and the author realised it'd be really fucking funny if Matt hadn't entirely gotten rid of Simon and Baz yet.

MCD's story is definitely over. I told him so myself. Yet, there are some small snippet of his future you might like to know. Like, don't spoil this for Matt yet, but he and Leslie won't last. Boo. Or fun fact, did you know I actually spoke to Baz regularly? LOL. Lmao even. Matt never knew, so neither did y'all, since it wasn't relevant to the plot. I did mention in a blog post on the author's blog that I think he's fit, but bet y'all didn't see coming I was friendly with him. And yeah, Simon and Matt (and Penny) are neighbours now, but no worries, Matt will continue his uneventful life in ignorance. The dude won't know Simon's moved out to Hackney Wick till idk a year after??? I might tell him sooner, but as I mentioned before, gaslighting my bestie for the narrative is a treat.

All this to say that the world of Carry On.... carries on, even without Matty giving you a glimpse into it. Apart from what I mentioned above, I have no fucking clue what's next for him and therefore neither does the author. Or is it the other way around??? Do I only not know because she doesn't know??? I should ask her. But even so, feel free to keep Matty Chris D. (thanks Dre for the name, I was gonna do a shout-out to you in the fic itself but it never fit oop) in your hearts. I definitely will. Stay 'swasome everyone and have a good day. - J.J.

[chantylay]

Okay dude but you do understand, you are not on our level. Your country is richer than ours, your country imperialises ours, and ordinary Americans are privileged in ways that you guys take for granted. You are the richest country in the world with the best healthcare and the best universities and the best food and the best everything (if you can pay for it, which is a big if, don't worry, I understand) and you tell us this constantly. You are not 'lightly ribbing' someone, you are mocking, because we are not peers. We are taught from a young age to think that Americans are better than us both by American propaganda and our own. American media and even UK media tends to depict Americans as being rich, well educated, having big cars and big houses and so forth. Do you even realise that multiple children I grew up with when I was young had 'move to America' as a life goal? And you guys come on tumblr talking about how much food you have in restaurants, augh how much food we have how much food you don't have. You sound like rich fucks lording your wealth over us, particularly as we are literally poorer and more food insecure than you. The accent thing is a particular bezerk button because imagine going up to a Black American and the first thing out of your mouth when you hear them talking with a distinct, beautiful AAE cadence is 'Heyyy gurrrl omg' and then you did a head swivel and snapped three times. They would slap you. They would be right to slap you. That is the first fucking thing out of every American's mouth upon hearing a British person. Every. Fucking. Time. A minstrel show caricature of a working class London accent, an accent that does not sound like your own and only sounds like a mockery. In the UK, that is what rich fucks do to mock poor people. And you come off to us as rich fucks when you talk about yourselves, constantly, even when you don't mean to. You are mocking us in a racialised manner when you don't even realise it, and telling us to take a joke. And don't even pull an 'oh we don't oppress you' angle. There are US military bases in the UK. When US soldiers or ambassador's wives commit crimes here they are whisked away back to the US and never stand trial (and guess what kinda crimes US soldiers commit). Your businesses muscle in on our economy every chance they get, whereas very few UK businesses ever make it to the US. Your media is on our television, and ordinary people off the street in the UK can name the US president, vice president, and possibly Bernie Sanders, whereas the average US person probably can't name the current PM because we're just so irrelevant to you, but you aren't to us, because any decision you make has the potential to fuck us over in some regard. We can't even deploy our own military without asking your military first (not that we should, ever, we're still a racist dogshit first-world imperialist nation that should dissolve its military and give reparations to our former colonies). Notwithstanding that every American '''joke''' about British people is some variety of 'you talk funny' 'you're all ugly' (crooked teeth, big noses) 'your weather is horrible and your country sucks' 'your food is shit and I would never eat it'. Like, how do you not realise that you all sound like complete entitled racist fuckwads? Even to the Italians saying 'we make better Italian food than you' in the original post basically. Like, could you at least come up with something that isn't some theme on 'we're horrible smelly peasants not like our blessed American masters who have all this food and are better than you in every way'.

So when UK people respond by going 'at least we don't shoot our own children in the face' it's not because we can't take a joke, it's because you couldn't even be fucked to tell a joke and instead have committed a microaggression. Like, poverty when I was growing up (admittedly in the poorest region of the UK tied with Northern Ireland) looked like rail thin kids because their parents couldn't feed them enough, rail thin parents because they cut back to feed the kids more, no car, only a table, a desk with an old computer for dad's work, an old TV, a fridge, a washing machine, and bed frames for furniture, with a cleanliness problem in the household because both parents were working. They went to a restaurant once a year for their parents' birthday celebration. That was multiple people I went to school with.

So when you talk about 'lol you don't even have big restaurant portions', fuck you. We can't even go to the fucking restaurant except on special occasions. People can't even pay to heat their homes in winter anymore. Try being funny, or commiserating with us about our shared problems rather than telling us we're shitty little poverty-stricken dancing monkeys for your entertainment. P.S. If we make fun of Southern Accents because it's something we learned from you, because Northern Americans do that all the fucking time. When I was a child, we didn't even know that the Southern US talked differently, because we have a hard time telling American accents apart. We did vaguely know what a 'Cowboy accent' was, but most of the kids at my school thought that it was how Woody from Toy Story talked.

“Americans believe in big portions! That’s so crazy.” Look at this European getting scammed into paying for 100 calories worth of food. Fool. Idiot. You wish you could have this 16 ounce Big Gulp and this serving of rice I will eat off for three days but you can’t. Cope and seethe.

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Congrats Riley on your audition for Elijah Jefferson! Please check out this page for what to do next, and send us his blog within 48 hours! Welcome to the group!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: riley Preferred pronoun: she/her Age: 30 Timezone/Country: gmt/england RP Experience: 15 years Activity Level: 6/10, mostly active wed-sun

IC INFORMATION:

Name: elijah jefferson Designation: submissive (former switch) Age: 35 Birthdate: 6th november 1988 Claim: dissolved Faceclaim: darren criss Orientation: homosexual Occupation: personal chef Kinks: bondage, roleplay, breathplay, pain play, public sex, sex toys, spanking, cnc, tpe, orgasm control/denial, somnophilia. Anti-Kinks: sounding, scat, gore, vore.

Key Points:  - was born and raised in england & moved to america when he was 21 - is a recovering alcoholic / went to rehab when he was 22 - relapsed towards the end of his claim coming to an end when he was 30 - he is currently 2 years sober again - has written multiple books but has never published them or thought to publish them - comes from a well off/wealthy family - plays the piano, guitar and violin

BIO

Growing up, Elijah wanted for nothing. He wasn't spoilt but he got everything he could possibly want or need. His parents weren't as loving as they could have been and preferred to throw money at problems. Being an only child meant he was lonely which is how he ended up in the wrong crowd at the age of fifteen - they introduced him to alcohol and drugs and from there it was downhill for Elijah. His first relationship, when he was eighteen, was toxic and unhealthy and with a guy six years older than him. It lasted two years and when he overdosed for the first time, his parents finally intervened and tried to help however they failed to and that's when he got sent to America at the age of twenty-one to go and live with his Uncle.  He met the man who would claim him only a few short months after living in America and it was him who pushed him to go to rehab when he was twenty-two. He grew dependent on his claim but they last eight long years and Elijah kept himself together, he got off of the drugs and he became a Chef which he adored doing. He picked up hobbies and made friends and his life was good until he claim cheated on him and he relapsed. Having to find himself again had proven very difficult for him and he had to fight his way back to being sober and single, only himself to rely on. Despite his troubles in life, Elijah was always someone who had the time of day for people. He may not have been his best self most of the time but that didn't mean he didn't care about people - it was himself he struggled to care about.

BIO QUESTIONS:

Describe your occupational journey and how you got to where you are.  - My ex claim owned a restaurant and I had always had a love of cooking so when I finally got sober, he gave me a chance in his restaurant and my career started there. I moved up and got better and better which his help and support. After a couple of years, I landed a job as a head chef in a fancy ass restaurant and then my career took a little change, I became a personal chef for wealthy clients.  

How would you describe yourself as a Dominant/submissive? - I think there is always something for me to learn. When I got the mark as a switch, I thought it was brilliant as I could learn both sides and get a better understanding of both. It lead me to realise that I am in fact more submissive than Dominant and I take great pride in that. I don't always feel like a good submissive, but I do my best to try and be good.

How do you feel about authority? - It depends, really. I don't mind authority usually but if someone is a complete and utter asshole with it, it makes it hard for me to listen to them and/or want to show them respect. Despite my mark, I don't think I should be treated any less.

[ofdetonation]

@starshinc​​  inquired :      Izuku usually makes it a point not to call Katsuki while he’s on away missions, especially overseas. He’s usually content with the fleeting calls they get in the evening. However - Katsuki’s phone will light up with Izuku’s ID, and there’s a sob down the line the second it’s been picked up. “K-Kacchan-“ he wailed. “I’m sorry..! I d-dreamt about, uh, your chest i-injury, and I woke up and you’re not here and-“ breathing is rapid, evidently still half trapped within the dream.      ╱      unprompted.

𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦  𝗪𝗔𝗦  𝗛𝗜𝗦  𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗗  𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡  𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗬  𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠  𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 .      he’d made a point of staying in japan for some time after his death and resuscitation,   left marred from the event with his  largest  scar to date      ╱      but the world needed his help and he couldn’t ignore their calls forever,   even though there was hardly an adjustment period.     so,   katsuki began to re-explore overseas missions.

the first time was a resounding success.     both izuku and himself had their concerns about the distance,   but it had worked out well for them,   so long as they kept in touch frequently and katsuki remembered to pick his times.     it was only a couple of days in a neighbouring country,   anyway.     because the timezones weren’t so different,   katsuki was able to spend more of his time off the mission talking to the other,   chatting about whatever came to mind      ⸺      they spent  most  of that time using facetime,   too.     katsuki is pretty certain he even fell asleep mid-call once or twice.     but it must’ve helped      ╱      izuku didn’t look so affected after he got back home,   if just a little more like a lost puppy.

the second time was a  little  rocky,   but the two of them got through it.     katsuki was sent off further from japan this time and for longer,   close to two weeks      ╱      it made the timezones awkward at best,   but the blond made an active effort to try and align his texts with japan’s times.     that way,   even if he was busy doing his own thing,   izuku had something to let him know he was okay.     it seemed to help.

this third time had more issues.

the hero commission warned katsuki he was looking at a mission that could take a month and a half to complete,   but the blond  refused  to turn it down.     he did his best to warn izuku of the mission      ⸺      he was being sent to the states,   after all      ⸺      but he knew the both of them had their reservations.     it was one thing to go on missions that weren’t too far from japan.     but to go on the opposite side of the ocean so soon after japan nearly lost their top hero,   the scar still new on his chest ?

maybe there was just nothing that could prepare them for it.     katsuki did his best to keep up texts and calls between the periods where he was working,   but nothing was lasting when he was so busy  and  in high demand      ╱      and maybe it was furthermore reckless of him to think that either had moved on from his death and resuscitation.

katsuki’s phone buzzes at some point in the afternoon while he was on patrol with one of america’s heroes.     with the sun reaching its highest peak,   the blond furrows his brows when he sees that it’s  izuku  calling him      ⸺      wasn’t it some odd time at night for him back in japan ?     (  the first concern is that he stayed up to talk.     but that couldn’t be right,   katsuki managed a call first thing in the morning,   making sure it was a reasonable time of night for izuku to be awake.     so if it’s not  that,   then ...  )     katsuki is quick to walk off,   dismissing his current hero partner before answering.

there’s a slight flinch when he realises what it’s about.     while his memory fades between the point where he died and the point he woke up in the hospital,   there were flickers of memories in between      ╱      there was footage to accompany it.     izuku yelling until his voice went raw,   the blond motionless on the ground until he could be sufficiently revived,   the bits of memory reminding him of how he dipped in and out of consciousness as his body  fought  to circulate what blood remained in him ...

❝    izuku,   i’m fine.    ❞     when he was home,   katsuki would just tug izuku to rest his head over his chest to feel his heartbeat,   to hear it as it works ;     he can’t do the same thing when he’s so far away from japan.     he  did  try to think of a solution to this problem.     there was plenty of time spent trying to determine how he might best help if izuku woke up haunted by the past,   still so fresh in his mind      ⸺      all of his usual solutions rely on him  being  there.     all he has at the moment are his words.     ❝    i don’t gotta be there t’be okay.     y’can hear me speakin’ to you right now,   can’t ya ?     i’m just in d.c. instead of bein’ home in japan.    ❞

it sounds dismissal.     this  is why he couldn’t find a solution ;     katsuki knows he speaks bluntly and forgets to consider the impact of his words.

❝    ...     tell me if there’s something i can do.    ❞     katsuki states rather than asks,   makes a  demand  of it instead of making it a question      ╱      he wasn’t asking for izuku to think on it.     he was asking for him to find something he could do,   right now,   despite the distance.     ❝    i got some time on my hands.    ❞

or,   more,   he was making the time.

[khaleesiofalicante]

He watches as the other man explains the predicament to the new arrivals. 

Alastair doesn’t know these two well. 

But he has heard of them.

The congressman and the soldier. 

He has read about their family. 

And of course he has heard Thomas talk of them before. 

Alastair has a bad habit of paying attention to everything that comes out of Thomas’ mouth. He can’t help it. 

It’s his favourite part of the other man. 

Except for his heart. 

And maybe his arms too. 

He has an exceptional torso - which is an honourable mention. 

But that’s it. 

Although his hair when tousled in the wind-

Alastair clears his throat and shakes his head. 

Focus. 

They are here to help a child. 

He looks down at David. 

Who is also watching the new arrivals through the window - his blue eyes wide. 

The boy doesn’t speak much. But he pays close attention. 

Alastair likes him. 

Thomas, who is talking to his cousin, looks up distractedly.

Before he could catch Alastair staring, Alastair looks away - busying himself with fixing David’s hair. 

He vaguely realises David doesn’t have any hair and face palms later. 

When he looks back, they are still talking. The blonde man with the buzz cut says something and Thomas laughs, his head a little thrown back. 

Alastair feels something coil in his stomach. 

Not jealousy. No. 

But anger. 

Perhaps even misery. 

At the fact that he could never be someone who can make Thomas laugh like that. 

He knows, once upon a time, he had been unkind to Thomas. He doesn’t think fondly about his university days, when he has been miserable himself and had made it a point to make others feel it too. 

But Thomas - this tall, amazing, brilliant idiot - somehow had always been able to see through Alastair. 

See through parts of himself Alastair didn’t know existed. 

Thomas, bless him, sees beauty everywhere. 

He finds goodness everywhere he goes. If he can’t, then he creates it himself. 

Alastair isn’t surprised. 

Thomas laughs again, softly this time, and pushes his hair carefully with a hand.

“Tu es belle, à l'intérieur comme à l'extérieur,” Alastair sighs. 

“No,” he hears a small voice.

Alastair looks down. “Hm?”

David is staring at Thomas too. “You said tu es belle. That’s for girls. Tu es beau. That’s for boys.”

Alastair chuckles. “I know, love.”

“Then why did you say it?” David asks, his little face confused. 

“I dunno,” Alastair shrugs, looking back at Thomas. “He isn’t just handsome. He is beautiful.”

“But tutor said that in French grammar, we use masculine-”

“Sometimes grammar cannot grasp beauty,” Alastair smiles. 

David looks more confused now. Alastair chuckles again. 

“Can boys be beautiful?” David asks, looking down at the three men. 

“Oh,” Alastair says and smiles at David. “Boys can be anything.”

When the three men come up, things get moving quickly. 

They are a bit of a whirlwind. The two new arrivals. 

Alastair doesn’t quite care for it. 

He is used to Thomas’ calm and sensible demeanor - his presence a steady stream. 

The blonde man is talking about taking David to New York. The older man drags his brother to a corner and they start whispering harshly. 

David stands next to Alastair, looking worried. 

Alastair takes a deep breath and looks at Thomas. “You cannot let them take him away.”

Thomas looks at David and gently escorts him to the corner of the room. Then he comes back and stares at Alastair. “My job is to do what is best for the child.”

“What is best is to ship him off to a foreign land?”

Thomas rolls his gorgeous green eyes. “It’s America. And I’m pretty sure they’ll be flying there-”

“This isn’t funny,” Alastair says incredulously. “We don’t know these people-”

“They are my family, Alastair. I trust them-”

“This poor child has been through enough and-”

“And that’s why this is good for him. Jace has a wonderful family-”

“Families are not always what they look like!” Alastair huffs, thinking of his own. “This child needs stability. Moving to a new country with people he doesn’t know-”

“I know you don’t trust them,” Thomas says, his voice is unbearably gentle. “But do you trust me, Alastair?”

More than anything. More than my own heart. 

The unspoken confession and the vulnerability of it scares him a little. 

A lot. 

Alastair clenches his jaw to halt his words and hastily walks downstairs. 

He ends up in David’s bedroom - it’s painfully bare, plain and empty. 

He has seen prison cells that had been more lively than this place. 

Alastair sits on the small bed and puts his face in his hands - thinking of David. 

Himself. 

All children who deserved to know nothing but love and kindness and laughter. 

“Did you tell David that I’m beautiful?”

Alastair looks up. 

Thomas is standing at the threshold of the room.

No, Alastair wants to say, I said no such thing. 

David is confused. He is a child. He is traumatised. He doesn’t know what he speaks of. 

He could say that.

But he doesn’t. 

It would be a disservice to David. 

A disservice to his own heart - and what lives inside it. 

“Yes.”

Thomas hesitates, only for a second, and comes into the room. He sits down on the bed, a few inches away from Alastair. 

“I know you don’t know them or trust them. But I do. Alec and Jace are good  people. Jace is an amazing father, even when he is away. He has two girls who will love David. A wife who cares for her family unconditionally. David will like it there.”

“But this is his home,” Alastair says quietly. 

“No. This is just a place,” Thomas replies. “Home is where you feel safe and happy.”

Alastair looks up at that. 

“Do you know where my home is, Alastair?” Thomas asks - his voice soft. 

His heart does a little cartwheel inside his chest. “Chiswick?”

Thomas snorts at that. Then he takes Alastair’s hand and threads it with his own. 

“It’s is the legal section at the Oxford library. It’s the paintings department at the Louvre. It’s the Persian restaurant at the Shepard Market. It’s under the shade of a chestnut tree at Hyde Park.”

Alastair’s breath catches in his throat. 

“My home is where you are,” Thomas whispers, leaning in. “Home is whatever and wherever that makes you happy.”

Alastair closes the gap between - because how could he not? His hands find Thomas’ waist and his lips finds Thomas’ lips and his heart…

Well, his heart doesn’t need to find Thomas’ heart. They had found each other a long time. 

Thomas smiles into the kiss, and holds Alastair’s neck. The touch is so gentle. No one had touched him with such gentleness before. It makes Alastair want to never let go. 

But he summons all the strength he keeps inside himself and pulls back. Thomas blinks his eyes open. They are big and worried and hazy and soft. 

“If home is what makes me happy,” Alastair confesses gently. “Then home is right here.”

“Paris?” Thomas asks. 

Alastair rolls his eyes and then rests his head on the other man’s shoulder. “This room makes me sad.”

Thomas looks at the small, bare space. “It used to make me sad too. But not anymore.”

Alastair hums at that. 

“We can turn sad things into happy ones by filling them with what makes us smile,” Thomas tells him. “If things works out, I will ask Jace to make a bedroom for David and fill it with what makes him smile.”

“Will he be okay there?” Alastair asks worriedly. 

“Do you trust me?” Thomas asks. 

Alastair kisses him again. He hopes it’s enough of an answer. Apparently, it is. Thomas pulls back with a smile. 

“If your American cousins hurt this boy, I will be having words,” Alastair points out. 

“Words?” Thomas asks in amusement. 

“Stern words,” Alastair clarifies. “Then I will kidnap David and bring him here.”

Thomas throws back his head and laughs out loud. 

It is the loveliest sound Alastair had ever heard - mostly because he made it happen. He wants to do it over and over again. 

Perhaps he will do just that.

“They are a family of police and soldiers and politicians. They’ll have you arrested immediately,” Thomas chuckles. 

“Well,” Alastair says. “I happen to know an excellent lawyer.”

“Did you just call me excellent?” Thomas asks. “First, you call me beautiful and now you call me excellent. I mustn’t let all of this go to my head.”

“Perhaps you should,” Alastair shrugs. “It’s true anyway.”

Thomas shakes his head and kisses him again. “I like it when you tell me nice things about myself. So much better than calling me pipsqueak.”

“I did call you that, didn’t I?” Alastair winces. “I’m so sorry. Do you think you could ever forgive me for it?”

“I suppose,” Thomas says airily. “I will think of a way you can make it up to me.”

Alastair can’t help but grin. “I have some suggestions that might interest you.”

Thomas smiles with his whole face. “Suggest away, my love. I’m all ears.”

Alastair’s heart catches in his throat. 

Oh. 

Suddenly this bedroom doesn’t seem all that awful or sad. 

After all, this is where he became Thomas’ love. 

He smiles up at the other man and cradles his face. He closes the gap between them. 

Now and forever. 

Not David bringing the gays together. I love these three so much. This sweet moodboard is by @all-the-cool-ones-are-gone

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Snap Out of It

Summary: Wanda and Pietro have changed recently. Reader wants them to snap out of it. 

Word Count: 3236

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader (can be either platonic or romantic, depending on however you want to read it), Pietro Maximoff & Reader 

Warnings: minor character deaths. It is also kinda angsty, not fluff, sorry

A/N: I’ve been listening to Arctic Monkeys a lot recently, and I thought of this while I was listening to Snap out of it (hence the title) and it contains some of the lyrics as well. Enjoy :)

—————————————————

Sokovia was not a nice place to grow up. Maybe it had been once, but those days were long out of anyone's memories. The Sokovia you had grown up in had been torn up by war since before you were born, and fights would spout between the different political factions on an almost daily basis. You had no recollection of a time when the government was stable, it had always been corrupt, doing nothing for their citizens, and people had always fought against it.

Yet, somehow, your childhood was the best Sokovia would be in your whole life.

You were born and raised in Novi Grad, the capital city. Now, if your parents had any choice, they would have moved away, because the centre of your country was also always the centre of conflict; armed rebels roamed the streets freely, army recruiters stood on every corner, and just one meeting between the two would start a gunfight. Nobody lived in Novi Grad by choice, they all just couldn’t afford to move away.

Even food was too expensive, the only affordable way to eat was cooking in batches, so that was what families learnt to do. They would help each other through it, pooling money so that they could share meals. For you, the closest family was the Maximoffs; your parents had been friends for years, and when Iryna gave birth to twins not long after your mother gave birth to you, it only made sense that the three of you would be raised together.

Wanda and Pietro were your best friends, the ones you stuck with at school, at home, and everywhere in between. Sometimes you would be left to ‘play’ in a separate room from the adults. As hard as they tried, it was impossible to hide the failing state of the country from you three. The walls were thinner than they realised, and you understood more of their worried conversation than they gave you credit for.

Oftentimes you would talk about your future. You knew no future was guaranteed, but still, you imagined, imagined what it would be like in an ideal world, where you could go anywhere you liked, where maybe the violence would finally stop.

“I’d want to get away” Pietro always said, “never stay in the same place for long, just always on the move. I think that would be fun, seeing the world outside of Novi Grad, travelling anywhere I liked”

That had been one of the conversations when you were younger, lying on the floor in your room, Wanda and Pietro by your side. The adults were discussing something big, so it was going to be a sleepover night.

“You wouldn’t want to come back?” Wanda asked, with a tinge of hurt in her tone.

“Of course I would come back and see you both, we’re a group forever!” he laughed, “but think of how much there is to do all over the world! And you could both come with me”

“That would be nice, imagine going to America,” you smiled, “we could bring Wanda to all her sitcom locations”

“Or I could be in a sitcom!” Wanda exclaimed with a giggle

“You want to be an actress?”

“It’s an option” she hummed and then shrugged. She definitely wanted to be an actress.

“I’ll help you be an actress” you promised, “we can practise together, and you can learn your lines”

“What do you want to do Y/N?” Pietro asked, both twins turning their heads to you.

You thought for a second, looking quickly at the window and then back at your friends. “I think I’d stay in Sokovia, I could make it better, and get rid of all the mean people. Then everyone could live happily here, we wouldn’t have to keep doing all of those bomb drills.”

“You could do it I think” Wanda nodded hopefully, “I could help you with all the money I make from acting, it takes money to do that, right?”

“Yes, I think so. We’re going to make it so much better”

—————————————————

Sokovia was the kind of place where dreams didn’t last long; hopes and aspirations went through it like grains in a mill. A fact you found out far too early. It wasn’t long after that conversation that the political unrest reached a new height, severe enough that the United States decided they needed to step in to ‘ease tensions’.

It had sounded like great news at first, having watched all the American sitcoms with Wanda. Americans were always the good people, and they lived luxuriously in comparison to your apartments. You thought they would help, you thought you would have support in making Sokovia a better place to live. But you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The Sokovian military was sent en masse to Novi Grad, ordered to fight back against the Americans and any rebels who sided with them. It led to a civil war, some civilians taking the side of the Americans, some taking the side of the military. Sure they didn’t like the government, but they disliked the Americans more.

The Sokovians stood no chance against the Americans. They launched airstrikes over the city every night, enough that yelling and explosions became the background noises in your sleep. Yet your country didn’t even have an air force.

You couldn’t see Wanda and Pietro as much because they lived a building over from you. You could only meet if the streets were clear, and that was happening less and less frequently. Your parents still tried to hide it, but they couldn’t stop you from looking out the windows, and you knew what they saw. The fight was getting closer to where you lived.

Aged 10, it finally happened. The yells were closer than they had ever been, and you’d been in the living room when a missile dropped, shaking the walls of your house and destroying the foundations. Your building collapsed, bringing your entire family down with it.

When you woke up, Wanda and Pietro were at your side in an instant, their eyes rimmed red and full of tears. They gasped when you squinted your eyes open, falling into sobs beside you. Pietro was the one to pull a doctor over, while Wanda held your hand and waited by your side. Your other arm was in a sling and bandages were wrapped around your head. The doctor said it was necessary, that you’d been in a very poor condition and so you’d need to rest a few more days to heal properly. That was easier said than done when you didn’t even have a home to rest in, just a pop-up medical tent on the street.

Wanda was the one to break the news. Your parents hadn’t made it. Neither had hers.

You wanted to curl up there and then, spend the rest of your short life on that makeshift bed, at least then it would be easier for the medics to get rid of you. Pietro wouldn’t let you though. He made a promise and he made you agree, there and then, that you would all keep going, the three of you against it all forever. You were all grieving, but you could do what you’d always done and help each other through it, together.

—————————————————

An orphanage took all three of you in, the carers were strict, and they didn’t often do much to take care of you all aside from providing a meal twice a day and a hall to sleep in. It was tough, but it was still better than living on the street. Over the eight years you spent there, your group picked up a number of talents to survive. Pietro got very good at stealing, managing to grab clothing and toiletries for all of you since they weren’t provided. And there were definitely no jobs going around for you to be able to buy them legally.

You tried to help the newcomers. Since the bombs kept coming, so did the children. Every orphanage was overfilled, so much that nobody got the care they needed. You wanted to help with their adjustment, their grief over losing their parents, and their new life in the hellhole of an orphanage. Wanda used to help you, working with you to find them all a place in the hall to sleep and handing out blankets, courtesy of Pietro, but as she got older she spent more and more time in town, and you spent longer on your own.

Wanda refused to tell you what she was doing, and you worried for her, but no matter how many times you asked, she didn’t budge. “It doesn’t matter” is all she would say. But it did to you, you had so much history together, and she was breaking it apart with her secrets. If she thought it was something you and Pietro wouldn’t approve of, then that only worried you more.

Moments of just the three of you were rare by the end, but the week before your 18th birthday you snuck onto the roof to escape from the crowded hall. The twins noticed, quietly following and lying beside you, just like how things used to be.

“I still want to get away,” Pietro said at last, “from all of this. But not to America.”

“The US are the ones that did this to us” Wanda seethed, “especially Stark”

The venom in her tone surprised you. Of course, you knew it was a Stark bomb that killed all of your parents, and they had the added suffering of spending two days trapped with one, but Wanda had always been kind, and she was never one to talk like this. It echoed the sentiment of the orphanage leaders, the rhetoric they had been drilling into everyone, and it echoed the voices of soldiers on the street, the ones who kept trying to recruit children to their cause.

“There’s a riot in town tomorrow” Pietro added quietly, “against the Americans”

“That’s stupid,” you scoffed, not noticing the looks both of your friends gave you, “the rioters are just going to be killed”

“I’m going to it” Wanda whispered. It caught your attention, and you snapped your head towards her,

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m going to it. Weren’t you the one that wanted to make a change in this country? Well, this is the only way”

“Wanda, those were dreams when we were kids! I don’t know if you’ve noticed but times have changed. Fighting and getting killed isn’t going to fix all the problems this country has, nothing is.” Wanda grimaced, and you turned to Pietro, the man avoiding your eyes at all costs. “You’re going too” you surmised, all the fight lost from your voice. Your two friends, the ones you’d spent your life with, had fallen victim to the propaganda, they were going to risk their lives.

Pietro gave a slight nod, still looking at the ground, and you sighed. “It’s like you’re hypnotised by those soldiers! Are you under a spell?” you yelled, “just- how could you be so blind? They’re manipulating you, manipulating your anger!”

“Well it sounds like you’re giving up!” Wanda spat back, “that doesn’t sound much like you. You always wanted change”

“Not at the expense of the lives of everyone I know Wanda! Pietro, please, you promised. You promised it was the three of us, we’d stay together, because we can’t lose anyone else.”

“Y/N, we’re all going to be 18 soon” he muttered

“So?”

“We’re going to be kicked out of the orphanage and onto the streets. How long do you think we’ll survive there? Making change is the only way we can stop that.”

“So you’d rather just have a quick death at the hands of the Americans? Because you’re not going to make a significant enough change in the month before you turn 18, you’ll be on the streets regardless.”

“It won’t be a quick death Y/N!” Pietro argued, anger taking over all of you, “we can survive and make Sokovia better again. Join us tomorrow, come on, we can get rid of the Americans that killed our parents.”

“I’m not dying for this.” You shook your head firmly, tears welling in your eyes. “If you want to go, go. But I’ll still be here, waiting patiently for you both to snap out of it.” With a huff you stood up, stalking back down to the hall and leaving your friends behind. They didn’t follow.

They still weren’t in their places when you woke up the next day, but some of their belongings had gone. Either it was a thief, or they had taken things for the riot and they were going along with the plan. Sadly, you knew it was the latter.

“When will they snap out of it?” you muttered to yourself, pushing yourself to exhaustion with chores during the day to take your mind away from worrying about your friends. They had left you, they didn’t deserve your worry, but they were still the people you knew the most and there was a high chance of death.

They didn’t come back that night, nor the night after. You knew because you didn’t sleep, waiting and watching for the door to open and for them to sneak back in, but they never did. You left immediately the next morning. The fights and riots were over, for now, making it slightly safer to walk around the city, but it still only led to one reason why Wanda and Pietro didn’t return.

There were still bodies in the street, so you knew the rioting had gotten violent, just as predicted. But they were still being moved away, which meant you had to hurry. You sprinted through the streets, checking all the bodies for familiar faces, even requesting to see the carts they were being taken in. You never saw the twins. Either they survived, or you were far too late.

Beyond your 18th birthday you couldn’t be in the orphanage, leaving you out on the streets with many others. Wanda and Pietro didn’t turn up at all in the week since they left, and you could only imagine the worst. You mourned and grieved, all the while trying to live without shelter and only stolen food. Had they not left, you were sure you all could have made it.

You moved around the city, always staying far away from the riots. You weren’t tempted once to join them, and that was probably why it took so long for the truth to be revealed.

About a month after you’d moved out onto the Sokovian streets, you were lying in the doorway of someone’s building, using that and a thin blanket to shield yourself from the cold, when you were approached. You jumped at the ‘hi’, scrambling backwards into the wall, and it took you a second to realise you recognised the voice, more so, you recognised the figure that came with it.

“Wanda?” you asked hesitantly, had you died? At the same time, she breathed out a quiet “Y/N”

“You didn’t die?”, maybe not the best first words after a month apart, but it was the only reason you had thought of for them not returning to you. Your chest hurt, because if they hadn’t, not only had you mourned for nothing, but they’d abandoned you. They’d left you to suffer in the orphanage and on the streets alone, they’d even known where you were.

“I told you we would get killed by the Americans” Wanda smirked, maybe she thought it would be comforting, a friendly tease like those which had always been so common in your friendship. This time though, it irked you, only serving to make you more irate.

It increased further when Pietro sped around the corner, almost running into Wanda when he saw you. “Oh, Y/N”

“Yeah, me” you seethed, “the person you left behind.”

“We asked you to come” Pietro reminded you, but no moment of that day had ever left your mind.

“You didn’t ask, you offered, like I was a second thought. You didn’t care for my opinion when it contradicted yours, you didn’t care that I was worried for your life, you didn’t care to think that if you didn’t return I would assume you were both dead!”

“Y/N”

“Don’t Y/N me, Pietro” you raged, “you said we’d stick together forever, right? Forever isn’t for everyone, but is forever for you? I thought it was, but clearly not. Clearly, forever means nothing to you if you leave after one disagreement.”

Pietro looked down after your outburst, watching the toe of his boot trace circles on the ground. You noticed they both had new clothes, while you were still in the exact outfit you had on when they left. Wanda kept eye contact, refusing to back down against your glare.

“What’s been happening in your world? What have you been up to?” you asked as flatly as you could. Anger got you nowhere last time, and as nice as it felt, it wasn’t going to get you anywhere this time.

“The rebels, they have some safe houses around the city. They offer a space to live at in exchange for help planning the riots. It’s less packed than the orphanage, and they provide three meals a day. It’s a good exchange, and we get to fight back against the Americans.” Wanda explained, her eyes pleading for you to join, but it still sounded like a death sentence to you, far more than life on the street.

“I see you fell in love then,” you chuckled weakly

“What? I haven’t- not with anyone-”

“Yeah well near enough” you cut off, “you’re so in love with this idea, this need for revenge. It’s blinded you.”

“Oh”

“I get the feeling I’ve left it too late, but snap out of it! It’s not going to bring our parents back, it’s not going to give us our childhood back, all it’s going to do is bring more suffering, to you and to me.”

“We’re not going to convince you to join, are we?” Pietro sighed

“No”

“Then I’m sorry Y/N” Wanda finished, playing with the rings on her fingers. You remembered stealing them for her. “But we’re not going to be deterred, the leaders even said Pietro and I are ready to do more, to get the power we need to end the war.”

“And how are they doing that, huh? Did you ask?”

This time Wanda faltered, she crossed her arms, hugging herself and diverting her eyes. “Pietro, you want to elaborate?” you accused; they’d asked, but Wanda seemingly didn’t want to tell you.

“No,” he said simply, “but I guess this is goodbye”

“I guess so” you muttered, “have fun being heroes, I hope you find success”

“Goodbye Y/N” their two voiced echoed.

“Goodbye Wanda, goodbye Pietro.”

You curled up tighter on the floor, watching them as they walked off. Neither looked back. But it was only once they rounded the corner that you let yourself break down. Tears ran silently over your cheeks, dropping onto your knees. Your breathing picked up to the point at which it became unbearable and you ended up gasping for more air. Eventually even the sobs escaped your body. You gave in, finally mourning the end of 18 years friendship.