#but i NEED him to be less smug action hero-y or it feels wrong

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

TF One Orion Pax

[hitsuackerman]

Hawkweed (Hawks x Reader)

Prompt: Hawks and you have known each other for a good 4 years till your feelings made you walk through a rather… difficult path.

warnings: FEELS, a little bit of FLUFF

word count: 2.8k (its a long one folks)

4 years.

This all began 4 years ago.

It was still clear as day. The moment you stepped into his agency via request of Endeavor. Such a new environment for someone who preferred working underground. Scanning the lobby, each person had been doing their own thing, there were always 4 or 5 people running from one corner to another; phone in hand and laptop balancing on the other. Fast paced agency for a fast paced hero. All too fitting.

“So you’re the hero Endeavor-san sent?” Hawks inquired as he offered you a chicken wing. The smugness of his features still manage to make your heart flutter till now. “Look forward to workin’ with you then!”

You knew he was a flirt. You knew he was cheeky. Endeavor himself told you to be careful of the #2 Pro-hero. Enji Todoroki popped in and advised you to be wary for he can, undoubtedly, pull and win you over with his cheekyness.

You listened. You tried. You really did.

Until that one time.

A month ago.

You two were doing paperwork in his office. Side by side. Nothing new, really. Over the years, you’d grown accustomed to all his antics. If it meant being a little closer to seeing his genuine side, the side which always fascinated you, you were willing to keep up with him.

“Ya know, I’ve known you for 4 years and you still manage to captivate me like those chicken wings from down the block.”

Those were the words. Those words made you burst into laughter at just how random it was. Of course he would say that. He was Hawks.

That was the same day where everything just… spiraled out of control.

That same hour, he had excused himself to answer a call. When he turned his back, you let out a small cough.

You know those coughs you have when you laugh too much? You thought it was that. Until, you felt something clog up your throat. Coughing a little harder, you felt a foreign resting on your tongue.

Spitting it out, a small quiet gasp escaped your lips.

The legend was real. Your world came crashing down at the realization that this would be nothing but one sided love.

A small petal from a Hawkweed wedged between your fingers, mocked you. Turning your head to the person still talking on the phone, your heart beat began to spike as tears began to well in your eyes.

This was a slap to your face. A harsh painful slap that the feelings you tried to push aside came back at you with a much greater force than you would have ever anticipated.

Blinking the tears away, you tucked the petal into your pocket and resumed the paperwork. Not a moment too soon, Hawks flopped into the cushion next to you. His arm draped on the sofa’s back.

“As much as I like workin’ with ya, I gotta scramble. Committee wants me to head over there.”

“Sure. No problem.”

On that same day, just as he was about to fly his way, before bidding his farewell, he playfully pinched the bridge of your nose.

Such an interaction would have made you feel little tiny butterflies in your stomach. No. You felt as if small thorns were playfully poking your insides. Almost as if, small needles were teasing your skin. Waiting for the perfect moment to stab you relentlessly.

When he flew away, you coughed one more time. The choking sensation there as you tried to let the petal out of your throat.

A week had now passed since that day. No matter how hard you tried, the winged hero always managed to pair the two of you together. You loved it. You really did. Spending time with him was all you looked forward to each day.

But now, seeing his golden eyes meet yours sent pain through your lungs. What started with petals now became small chunks of the flower. What began with a bright yellow petal now changed into red tainted ones.

“Are you okay, birdie?” Hawks asked. His eyes taking in your features. He wasn’t blind. He was raised this way. You had changed, he knew it. Your cheeks weren’t as fluffy as they were. The brightness of your smiles seemed to be hiding something else. The shine in your eyes seemed to dull. “You know you can tell me right? What are chickens for…”

Of course. He only saw you as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. For the first time, you looked away. Focusing on not the pain but on holding the cough you wanted to let out.

“It's… nothing.” You couldn’t fool him. That tone of voice was not you. You knew too well that he could see beyond your actions. But this one was beyond explanation. Luckily, he just let things slide and proceeded to chat about his day.

It really was nothing. You inside the women’s toilet, crouched down while holding desperately on the seat, coughing harder than you’ve ever did this week. Your tears came falling down when you saw how fast the sickness was growing. Floating in the water, fully bloomed Hawkweeds stained with your blood.

The pain you had grown used to was now too much. Each breath you took felt as if more flowers were blooming for the sole purpose of suffocation. For now, all you could do was to watch as you turned into the falling Icarus.

Flushing the yellows and reds away, you stood up and composed yourself. Stepping outside the stall, you walked towards the sink. Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror.

Puffy red eyes. A runny nose. Blood stained teeth with a small petal clinging onto the corner of your mouth. Eye bags that grew deeper as the days passed by. It felt as if a stranger was on the other side of the mirror. A stranger who was in pain of unrequited love.

Another week had passed. By now, you were barely functioning. All you had was the constant aid of your close friend.

“Do you love him that much, (Y/N)?” Fatgum asked as he held your hair back. This was the 3rd time he saw you cough up flowers and vomit blood. This was the 3rd time he had to go on his knees to aid your shivering hunched over body.

“I can't…” That’s what you always answered. By now, each breath was sending ridiculous amounts of suffering on your end. “I love him too much, Gum.”

“You’re already coughing up fully bloomed Hawkweeds. You have more than enough to make a dozen bouquets…” He had to rub circles on your back. Once again, you coughed, choked, and puked out blood stained flowers. “You know how this ends, dontcha?”

“Then perhaps I’ll just have to watch from a distance. You know, I always found him beautiful. I’ve always been a sucker for flowers. I’ve always dreamed of kissing the person who likes me back…” You lowered your head and stared at the puddle of blood and flowers. “But having to remove my feelings for something as ironic as this, I can’t Gum.”

Accepting his hand, you try to recover your balance. Taking the handkerchief he offered, you wiped away the blood and swallowed the metallic taste down your throat.

“That’s why… When the time comes, please don’t tell him.”

All Fatgum could do was bring you into his warm arms. Sobbing with you and the painful end you chose to bring yourself. Ever since that day, Fatgum would have a hating for flowers.

Today was the day. You knew it. You had woken up due to lack of oxygen. In the comfort of your own bed, you had puked a valley of bloody Hawkweeds. For a solid 3 minutes, you felt what it was like to lose air in your system. All you could do was grab onto your chest and breathe through the immense amount of pain your lungs and heart bestowed you.

As in on cue, your phone rings with his name on the screen. Biting your lip, you took the device and let out a shaky exhale.

“Hey, chicken. You okay?”

God his voice was smooth as silk. Your tears fell once more. Why was he showing you care? Why did he have to constantly feed you the idea of hope in this tragedy?

“I’m fine, Hawks…”

“Have you been crying? Chicken, please tell me what’s wrong…”

“Really. There’s nothing to worry about…” You managed to hit the mute button. Another round of petals and blood exited your system. Don’t cry. Don’t let him know you’re suffering. Don’t ruin the friendship. Unmute. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“I can pick you up if you wa-”

“No.” You had to cut him off. Your voice gave in and you knew he heard the crack in your voice. The small device on your ear was shaking from your hold. This pain crushing your lungs and heart was nothing like before. Still, you had to reassure him. “Please. I’ll be fine Hawks.”

You couldn’t take anymore. You hung up.

Putting your face in the palm of your hands, you sobbed and let go of all the sadness you felt in the moment. There was no sense of relief for releasing your sadness.

Unbeknownst to you, outside your window, a winged hero could hear your cries. A hero who was wondering why you would lie and choose to close yourself off from him. Knowing you hated it when he invades your privacy, he glides himself away with thoughts running in his head.

‘What did I do to hurt her?…' 

Hours passed. Each step you took, each time you flexed a muscle to aid a civilian, your vision grew blurry. For once, you wanted to drop being a hero and be saved. The look on the civilian told you just how battered and in pain you were.

“I don’t know what you’re going through…” She whispered as you put her somewhere safe. “But if it’s any consolation, it’s okay to be heroed every now and then…”

Were you that easy to read now? Thanking her for the comfort, you ran back to the site of debris. Trying to hold back another attack

Heading towards an area you hadn’t searched yet, you surveyed for any civilians but it seemed to be clear. In the distance, you heard the announcement that it was all over and each civilian was now safe and out of harm’s way.

Going back to the base, you stopped your tracks and clutched on your chest. The world around you was spinning. Dropping onto your knees, you gave in for another attack. There was nothing you could do. You had been holding it for the past hour and your lungs needed sweet release.

Flower after flower, you coughed and choked just to get them out. Your body barely gave you the chance to breathe. If not a cough, you were puking a waterfall of blood and petals. 

This was it.

Just when you were about to let go, a pair of gloved hands lifted your face.

A look of fear and worry etched on his handsome features. The way his eyes darted from you to the mess you made, your secret was now exposed.

“Who?” Hawks asked. His hands firmly keeping your face upright. “Who is he?”

“I can’t tell you, Hawks.”

His pupils shrunk and he grabbed a handful of blood stained Hawkweeds. Thank goodness he has zero knowledge of flowers, you thought.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Please… Stop…” The care he was showing you only made things worse. There was no holding it in, you had to let it out. Right in front of him, you coughed a hundred bloody flowers. Tears falling down your face at the shame of him seeing you like this.

“Don’t push me away, (Y/N).” Hawks was now gripping your shoulders. “Let’s take you to the hospital, yeah? We can still make it.”

“It’s too late, Hawks.” You couldn’t find the strength to look him in the eye. Who knew that the last minutes of your life, you would deny yourself the pleasure to stare into the eyes you loved dearly.

“I won’t take no for an answer, (Y/N).” His voice was stern but deep down, his heart was racing. He just couldn’t imagine his world without you. Seeing how you coughed up petals broke whatever was left of his heart. “I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“It’s you…” Barely a whisper. All you could do now was to focus your breathing. Just until he knows you love him.

“What?…”

“These are Hawkweeds.” Despite the tears falling, you managed to smile. It was the most agonizing thing you had to do. Telling your feelings in the brink of death. “I guess there’s no use in hiding it now…”

You cough once more. This time you let out a scream of pain. This was it.

“I love you, Hawks. Always have and always will.”

Not wanting to waste any time, Hawks pulls you in. He could care less about the taste of your blood in his mouth. He could push aside the taste of your salty tears on your lips. But he would never forgive himself if he failed to reciprocate your love.

“You can’t leave me now, chicken. I haven’t even asked you out on a date. I haven’t told you just how much you matter to me. You haven’t even given me the chance to properly say how I feel about you.”

You finally meet his eyes. However, this time, you weren’t staring into Hawks, you were staring into the man behind the hero. The same man who intrigued you from the start.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you breathed in. Whatever gut wrenching pain you felt, slowly began to vanish. Your throat finally felt free from all the flowers you had cultivated in your system.

“You… You love me?”

“Maybe my flirting was a little too vague. I love you, (Y/N). I really did want to tell you and make you mine but with the LoV and the committee always behind me, I had to push it aside.” Hawks began to explain. “I wanted to tell you when things would finally be safe and we could freely do the things we want. Had I known…”

Rummaging for something in his pocket, your eyes widened at the sight of your (favorite/flower)’s lone petal.

“When did you…?”

“2 weeks ago.”

“So you mean to say…”

“We were dumb enough to let this stupid sickness bring us together.”

After 3 weeks of suffering, you finally laughed. You finally felt free from the tragically beautiful but ironic disease. Both of you finally felt relief wash your souls as the remaining stems withered.

“So watcha say, birdie? Wanna grab some chicken wings?” Hawks managed to ask. A small smirk on his face knowing things turned well in the end.

“The one from down the block?” The shine in your eyes were finally back and the thorns Hawks felt in his stomach were now replaced by butterflies.

“You read my mind.” Hawks winked. Taking his glove off, he cupped your cheek and brushed it with his thumb. “I’m sorry I inflicted so much pain. I had no idea you were going through it as well.”

“I’m sorry, too. You ended went through pain because of all these cursed flowers.”

“I’m guessing you’ll slap the wings off me if I buy you a bouquet of flowers.” The cheeky grin you came to love now on his face. 

“Damn right, Hawks.”

“Let’s cut the formalities. Drop the Hawks-oh and call me Keigo.” He gave you the finger guns. Something you hated but loved at the same time.

“I swear to the flower gods I wonder why I fell for you.”

“Well… We have all the time and chickens in the world for me to make you remember why!”

Pulling you back into his arms, you gladly hugged him back till you felt as if you were floating. Realizing the two of you were being carried by his wings, you couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

All this time, you simply needed the courage to tell him how you felt. All this time, you were not alone and your feelings were reciprocated.

Feeling his hold on you tighten, you breathed in the fresh air and the scent of something new growing between you and Pro-Hero #2.

4 years and 3 weeks. That’s how long it took for the two of you to finally start a new chapter together.

4 years and 3 weeks to finally hear the words you two longed to hear.

This was a rather unique start to the relationship but the two of you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

- - - - -

a/n:

how do ya’ll like this hanahaki au? ive always been fascinated with this concept and this would have to be my first :’) hope yall are okay~ always a happy ending here in my account :’)

[yandere-wishes]

Eight Tries //Obey  Me Yandere! Asmodeus x reader //

Thank you so so much for this wonderful prompt @feedmestraycats​. Icon made by the lovly @bbelphie​!

TW: attempted suicide, mention of rape/noncon, gore, murder, cheating

This was getting old, he still wasn't home and there was no point in pretending that he was just running late. No, you knew that your husband was not coming back home tonight, maybe if you were lucky you would find him passed out on the couch sometime in the late afternoon once you returned from the marketplace. 

There was no reason to spend the dreary and dull night alone. If that spoiled hero you called a husband could be spending such a gorgeous night, out with some prostitute from the slums then you could also be having some naughty fun~

--To call your current like a nightmare was an understatement. People awake from nightmares, they could open their eyes and be back in the safety of their warm beds, next to the person they loved. But the second your eyes opened you entered a hell on earth, there wasn't any escape, no freedom...and the worst part was that there was not a single soul to comfort you--

Five red candles set in a circle each one a blase with a tiny passionate flame. Two twigs inserted parallel to one another, caging in the dried corpse of a scorpion. Next is the demon's sacred seal written in the summoner's blood, elegantly and delicately. Sprinkle it with salt and state the ungodly words. "Oh, great Asmodeus lord of love, aviator of lust, I become thee come forth to me, I offer you my body and soul"

--You had been born to a noble family in a small and rather poor town. Despite the town economical standpoint, the natives were tremendously kind and neighborly. Everyone shared whatever little of anything they may have had. Your family, in particular, was the most charitable. Giving and giving as much as humanly possible. When it came time for you to chose a husband, your father requested you marry someone from the town, someone you truly loved disregarding how poor or wealthy they may be. Marry for love he insisted but keep it in the family. Regardless to say that's what you did. You found a man and fell in love, married a month later in a joyous celebration in which the whole town had been invited to....but then HE came along--

The circle in front of you puffed with a cloud of thick pink smoke. It invaded your sense, plunging into your mind and sending waves of ecstasy. It was a rush pure lust was infected into your entire body...

but then it stopped, neglecting your corpse and leaving you you confused and sweaty. It was in that eerie moment that the demon decided to manifest himself. He stood tall in all his glory, petite bat wings spread out. If it weren't for the dark shadow and uncharacteristic bitter frown spread thinly across his face, he would have looked as beautiful and perfect as the first miserable night you played eyes on him.

--In the dead of night Asmodeus had murdered your husband in clod blood. He had made you watch as he shredded your lover's corps leaving only a messy pile of blood and organs on the bed. But that had not been enough for the lord of lust. On that same blood-soaked bed he had defiled you,  raped you and stolen what was meant for the man who's blood you now laid in, a weeping mess reeking of that demon's stench. Your parents had found you the following day. They were sent into an accentuated frenzy. How could such a horrifying thing happen? By the following year, you'd been wed again, only for Asmodeus to return on the night of your marriage and decimate your new husband. By the fourth accurations, the townsfolk had deemed you cursed, at first they tried all that they could to save you from this dreadful beast. But all too soon it had turned into a competition. "Who could marry the nobleman's daughter and survive the next day." Desperate to wed you off your parents accepted any challenger who arrived....and each was dead by the morning of your marriage. By the sixth time, the townsfolk had already tried to kill you on multiple occasions. The sweet and caring town you knew had been annihilated replaced by this bitter, angry village of unkind and untrusting residents. And Asmodeus? Well, he'd made a game out of this, each time he'd find a new grisly way to slaughter your new husband and a new repugnant way to rape you. By the seventh husband, you'd already attempted four suicides. All resulting in fallierur, by some black miracle that dreadful demon was always able to save you and keep you alive. All hope was lost or so it seemed.--

"He's out again..." Was there any need to explain why you'd summons him. Over the last two years since your wedding to the "hero", these summonings had been almost routine. 

"Of course he is darling~ did you really think you were enough to satisfy him? hm?"

The words stabbed your heart like a million needles at once, the reality was all too fragile and could come crumbling down at any given time. You had never been enough, this was a well-known fact at this point. You had never been enough for your lovers, parents or town's people and now you weren't even enough for your own husband, the man that had saved you from all your miseries. 

"Love, he's a hero. Hero's don't settle down and live domestic lives with their loved ones and children. They need the torture of missions and anguish of journeys to feel alive. When they leave it all behind they wind up as hollow husks filling out the rest of their existence with alcohol and street women."

--After having prayed to God for too many days and nights to count, he's finally sent you a hero. Tobias was sent to vanquish the demon Asmodeus and merry you as a reward. At the time you'd all thought he had succeeded, that the avatar of lust was really dead. The thought had brought you joyous days and depressing nights. A part of you was beyond thankful that he was finally gone. The other half missed and longed for his lips on yours, for his hands brushing against your skin, the feel of his honey-colored lock tangled in between your fingers. You missed your tormentor...

At first, you and Tobias had been like any young couple so in love to notice the conflict of the world around you, so in love to disregard each other's sharp edges. So in love, until you were no longer. The first year had been sweet and peacful, every day was a harmonious dream...but then Tobias started coming home late, neglecting your presence. Some nights he wouldn't return at all and you'd run into town finding him in some pub drunk and with some random woman clinging to him. You spent those nights crying yourself into fitful revolting dreams of happiness and death. The old pre-suicidal habits had returned. One night the blade slipped and slashed a vain to deep, mentally exhausted you simply laid there waiting for the blood to run out. That's when you saw him again. Over the years he hadn't changed one bit, flirty smile and reddish-yellow eyes still playful and dark. He'd brought you back again and stayed with you until morning. The occurrence repeated it's self like clockwork until one night it was no longer dying and talking but summoning and...more. It felt right to feel him all over you again. His toxic presence made you feel complete, filling up holes in your soul.--

Asmodeus stalked closer, arms slinging in that all too causal way. You didn't dare take a step back, having played this game enough times to know every result before it even sprouted. 

"(Y/N) why won't you listen to me! How dense do you have to be to repeat the same mistake eight times! Eight freaking times before it dawns on you that you are wrong! You will always be wrong! No worthless human or "holy hero" can ever love you as I do. I'm the only one. I'll always be the only one!" 

Your brain screamed that he was wrong, that you could have had a prouspoures, dazzling life had he not killed your first husband or second or even third. Ir was his fault that your beloved town had been plagued with riots and corruption. He taught your people to sin, to ignore the words of God and his angels! Yet your cracked heart knew that he was right, no man would ever love you again... hey all married you for some selfish obligation or another. And Tobias....Tobias was the worst of all. He was forced to marry you by the holy on. Thrust into a loveless marriage with the suicidal "beauty" he was forced to save. Why couldn't God have just killed you all those years ago? Given the poor "Miss wanna die" her sole wish. He was right, this MONSTER was had always been right! No one loved you. You were less than the rubble under people's feet. Even noble god had turned his back on you...but he, this evil demon...Asmodeus had always come back for you. Hw stole your innocence, your purity, your life! your destiny was forever ruled by him. Maybe that's what you were so constantly in pain and isolation. You were trying to outrun your furutre. Why? What was the point of escaping your inevitable faith? Let it go, submit,  your miserable life would finally become less of a burden. Give up, hand over the crumpled misery you called life to Asmodeus, let him take over. It would all finally be over. No more pain, loneliness, the misery would come to a sweet end!

In a daring, insanity driven moment you lunged yourself forward gripping Asmodeus' toned shoulders with all your strenghth. Fingernails digging deeper and deeper into his creamy skin. Crashing your lips onto his, trying to let the kiss speak for you. Begging he would comprehend your actions, praying he would accept your submission. In no time he took over, dominating the kiss, slipping his wet muscle into your mouth. Running his larger hands to your lower back. Dipping lower and lower, squeezing anything he could get his hand on. He was the one to (shockinly) break the kiss. He slowly pulled away leaving behind a thin string of saliva. His lush lips were pulled into a smug smirk, his eyes were lightening up with the most joy you'd ever seen. Forcefully he pulled you closer to his chest. Holding your head where his heart would have been. 

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

I’ll Be Here

Summary: After an alleyway rescue, you do what you can to repay your hero.  Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 3700 Warnings: Attempted assault, minor violence, fluff, cliche things. No smut, though the summary might make it seem that there would be. Oops.  Square Filled: Playing With Their Hair - @marvelfluffbingo​ Square Filled: U5; Homeless - @buckybarnesbingo​ Challenge: @shield-agent78​‘s 800 Follower Challenge; my prompt is rescue. A/N: This is my first ever Bucky fic! I’m super nervous about posting it, but I’m doing so with the sincere hopes that everyone will enjoy it! I appreciate feedback if you’re so inclined to give it, but please be kind :) HUGE THANKS to @captain-s-rogers​, my resident Marvel expert for always helping and encouraging me! 

After sending your best friend a text that you were never going on a blind date again, your tucked your phone back into your clutch and checked your lipstick in the mirror. You touched up a couple of spots on your lips which had worn away on the crystal glass you had been sipping wine from throughout the evening, then went back to the table to re-join your date. 

“Sorry about that,” you smiled, “that wine went to my head a little bit.”

“Feel better now?” Cory asked — the only time he had asked anything about you throughout the whole evening. In truth, you had stepped away from the table to get a break from hearing about Cory and his excessive achievements, even if for only a few minutes. 

You nodded and finished the few bites of food left on your plate. You used the white, linen napkin to dab at your mouth and thanked Cory for such a delicious meal. He didn’t reply, only gave you a smug smirk that told you he was very pleased he could treat you to dinner at such a snazzy restaurant. 

Once the check was paid, Cory helped you up from your chair and led you out to the front of the restaurant. You faked a yawn in an attempt to wrap up the evening early, but Cory missed the cue. He took you by the hand and led you down the sidewalk. 

“Let’s take a walk.”

“You know, I think I might call it a night. I appreciate everything, but I’m really tired. Thanks for —”

Cory tugged on your hand. “Just a quick walk, Y/N. Give me a few more minutes with you.”

You weren’t sure what it was that made you give in, except for the hope that if you gave him those few minutes, Cory would finally leave you alone to catch a cab home. He didn’t talk at all as the two of you meandered down the sidewalk. You opened your mouth a couple of times to make conversation, but Cory seemed uninterested. You weren’t really sure what it was that made him interested in you; he certainly hadn’t expressed anything to you by words or actions throughout the course of the evening. 

“These shoes were not made for walking,” you chuckled, trying to keep things light. You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and motioned down to your feet. “Thank you for everything, Cory, really, but I’m going to call it a night.”

He motioned to an apartment building at the corner. “My place is right there. Let’s go sit.”

You shook your head; you were done at this point. “No, thank you. This is goodnight.”

Cabs were whizzing by, so you turned to hail one, hopeful the wait wouldn’t be too long and, therefore, awkward. Cory wasn’t accepting the brush off though, and he grabbed your hand roughly. He tugged your arm so strong and so abruptly, you ran into his chest. Cory looked down at you, stern and intimidating. 

“I’ll tell you when the night is over,” Cory seethed. “I paid for your fancy dinner, now you’re going to be a lady and find a way to return the favor. Let’s go.”

Work as you did to wrench your arm away from Cory’s grasp, he only held on tighter the more you struggled. Screaming crossed your mind, but your throat was dry and panic seized your vocal cords. It took less than a minute for Cory to drag you toward his apartment building and into an alley; he couldn’t very well take you in the front door struggling like you were. 

As the two of you mounted the cement steps leading up to a side door, Cory had to reach into his pocket to find the key. You took the opportunity to push away from him and took off down the alley. The damn shoes you had chosen to wear though — of course not anticipating a need to run — hindered your escape, and Cory wasn’t far behind you. When he caught up to you, he gripped you by the shoulders and slammed you hard into a dumpster. The force of him shoving you slammed your back against the thing first — your head went forward and then back, hard. 

The sound echoed throughout the alley and rattled through your brain as you worked to make sense of your surroundings again. Your ears whistled and your vision went black before coming back blurry and then clear. 

“Hey. Leave her alone.”

The voice came from your left. You turned to see who was speaking, but Cory grabbed your face between his thumb and fingers, forcing you to look back at him. The sudden movement after hitting your head made the whole alley spin and your stomach flip. 

“What’s wrong with you? Did you hear me?” 

The man coming toward the two of you was dressed in dingy clothes, had greasy hair pulled back away from his face in a low ponytail, and looked like he hadn’t shaved in months. His brow was furrowed with concern. 

Cory’s hand fell from your chin and landed on your shoulder, rubbing gently. “No trouble here, man. Things just got out a little of control. We’re all right, aren’t we, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. Cory was staring you down, waiting for you to answer, but all you could do was look at the man who was now only a few feet away from the two of you. Your eyes watered over, silently pleading with him not to leave you alone with Cory. 

The man nodded. “All right, listen. Why don’t you just go on your way and she can go on hers. No reason this has to get any worse. Let her go.”

“How about you mind your own business?” Cory snapped back, his hands dropping away from you and his whole body turning to the man. You should have bolted but you were paralyzed where you stood. 

Cory’s jab forward hit the man square in the mouth, splitting his bottom lip. You winced at the blood that smeared over his chin when he reached one gloved hand up to wipe the blood away. He looked at Cory calmly for only a few seconds before throwing a cross that struck Cory just below his eye. 

The sound was that of metal against bone, and then a brief crunch. Cory covered his eye with both hands as he dropped to his knees there in the alley, moaning and groaning about broken cheekbones. You turned away from both of them — between your head and the sound of the punch, you couldn’t hold your expensive meal anymore. 

The man held his hand out to you. You hesitated, too occupied with trying to process the last few minutes of your life. 

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

His voice and his eyes were gentle, not an inkling left showing of the man who had only a few seconds ago punched your date hard enough to potentially, literally, break his face.   You nodded and slipped your hand into his. 

He walked with you to the main sidewalk. He let go of your hand and went to the street to wave down a cab. Several of them whizzed by before one pulled up to the curb. The man from the alley opened the back passenger of the cab for you. He held your hand out to you again, and you took it. 

“Make sure you call the cops if he shows up at your place or something,” the man warned before turning away from you. You held tight to his hand though, directing his attention back towards you. 

“Do you want to — can I —” You pursed your lips together, unsure how to ask what you wanted to ask without offending him. “Maybe, to be on the safe side, you could at least ride home with me?”

His eyes, which you could now see were a rich shade of blue, danced with amusement and his mouth formed into the ghost of a smirk. He knew exactly what you were saying. He looked at the ground and then back up at you; you squeezed his hand once and the denial you could tell he was building up fell away. 

“Yeah, okay.”

You smiled at your small victory as you slid into the back of the cab and told the driver your address. The man sat next to you, far on the other side of the seat. You stayed silent, letting him adjust to the situation as he needed to, and hoping that he wouldn’t make an excuse to leave once you got to your place. 

He didn’t. He held the car door open for you and followed you up to your apartment. You fumbled with your key, still shaky from the adrenaline that had amped up in your system when you were attempting to get away from Cory. With a deep breath, you slid the key into the lock and turned the knob, pushing the door open. 

He followed you inside, standing awkwardly just inside the door. You set your clutch on the coffee table and kicked off your shoes. 

“Thank you, for what you did,” you said quietly, hands clasped behind your back. You shifted your weight nervously from one foot to the other. “You didn’t have to.”

The man shrugged. “Where I come from, men don’t put their hands on a woman that way, for any reason. It was the right thing to do.”

You nodded. The two of you stood in the front room, uneasy and not looking at each other. Finally, your thoughts slowed enough that you were able to map out what the evening could maybe look like. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said, holding your hand out. 

The man pulled off both of his gloves, revealing one metal hand. Your interest was piqued, but you did your best not to look at the limb too much. He shook your hand before dropping back away to a respectful distance. 

“Bucky Barnes.”

You smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. I don’t mean to bring you here and then leave you alone and … well, hopefully I can trust you now that I have you in my home. I’d really like to shower and get Cory’s germs off my skin. There’s a ton of leftovers in the fridge, you can help yourself, if you want.”

Bucky nodded. “Thanks. That’d be nice.”

You nodded too, then motioned for his attention before you turned toward the bathroom. “You’ll still be here when I’m out?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here.”

You had only just met him, but Bucky’s presence put your grated nerves at ease. You picked up your clutch so you had your phone, got a pair of clean sweats and a t-shirt from your room, along with clean underthings, then locked yourself in the bathroom. After making a quick phone call, you stripped down and stepped into the shower. 

Though the hot water and the steam helped to calm you even more, it also made you dizzy. For that reason, and because you were eager to get back to Bucky, you made short work of washing up. Once out of the shower, you towel-dried and dressed. You brought your hair towel with you, scrunching the excess water from the tresses as you returned to the kitchen. 

Bucky was sitting at the table, his jacket shed to the back of the chair, munching on some pizza. The microwave door wasn’t closed all the way, which told you he had taken the time to warm it up. That little thing made you happy. 

“I’m glad you’re eating that pizza so I don’t,” you teased, sitting in one of the open chairs, continuing on with your hair. 

Bucky almost smiled. “It’s good pizza. Haven’t had pizza in a while.”

You draped the towel over the back of the chair you were sitting in. “Are you — do you have — I have questions, but I don’t know how to ask them without sounding like an idiot.”

Bucky set down the crust he had been about to eat and sighed. He looked toward the plate in front of him, but you got the feeling he wasn’t really looking at the plate. 

“I had a place, but I — I had to leave it. Haven’t found a new place yet.”

You nodded. “I see. This may be another stupid thing, but I called my brother. I think he’s about your size. He’s going to bring over some extra clothes, some clippers and shower stuff. You don’t have to use any of it, Bucky, but it’s the least I can do after you rescued me.”

He picked up the pizza crust again and nodded. “That would be nice, Y/N. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You took his plate when he was finished, and got him a glass of water. He drank that down almost immediately, so you refilled it right away. Bucky had another helping of pizza, and you munched on a few cookies with him when he was through. 

Your brother arrived then, only sticking around long enough to meet Bucky and drop off a duffle bag of clothes and supplies. When he left, you handed the bag to Bucky and showed him where the bathroom was at and how the shower worked. 

“Is there everything you need in there?” you asked before leaving him alone. 

Bucky took a quick examination of the contents of the bag. “I think so.”

“All right. Then I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky nodded and closed the door behind you. You heard the lock click, so you went about loading the dishwasher, throwing out the pizza box, and then took a seat on the couch with the remote to wait for Bucky to finish. 

When he came out of the bathroom, the beard was all but gone. His face was more clear, and he was wearing a pair of sweats and an old baseball t-shirt that clung to his chest. Even before the shower you had known he was attractive, but now you found yourself wishing you could hug him, pressing your cheek against his strong chest and inhaling the clean scent. You smiled a greeting. 

“Feel better?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, thank you. For everything, Y/N. Not really sure which one of us got the better end of the deal tonight.”

“Pretty sure I did,” you sighed, taking a closer look at him. His hair was still in the same low ponytail it had been when he had encountered you and Cory in the alleyway, and still looked kind of greasy. It occurred to you that your brother likely hadn’t included shampoo in the bag, and you hadn’t said anything about him using your shampoo. You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Bucky, when was the last time you washed your hair?”

He cleared his throat, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “It’s been a while. I’m all right, though.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” you told him, going to the bathroom for an extra couple of towels, your shampoo, and your conditioner. After you found an extra brush, you went back to Bucky. You weren’t sure where the gumption was coming from, but you took him by the hand and pulled him to the kitchen sink. You were going to need a chair to be able to reach well, probably, but you instructed him to take the elastic from his hair and toss it in the trash. “I’ll give you some new ones. Now, here — you lean forward in the sink. I’ll get the water going.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.”

You shrugged. “I wanna do this.”

You reach out to squeeze his hand, and Bucky gave in, just as he had when you were trying to convince him to come with you at the cab. He leaned forward on the sink while you pulled a chair up to the counter and got the water going. When the temperature was acceptable, Bucky leaned forward. You used the spray hose to the side of the faucet and moved your fingers through Bucky’s hair to make sure it got good and soaked. You reached for the shampoo and lathered it up between your hands before you applied it to Bucky’s scalp, scrubbing good and massaging a little before you rinsed the shampoo out. Already Bucky’s shoulders and back were less tense than they had been when the process started. 

You shampooed his hair again before working the conditioner through his tresses. It was dark and thick, and you were sure it would be cotton soft when it dried. 

You wrung the excess water from his hair, then got the towel and had Bucky sit in the chair while you dried it some more. You patted his shoulders when you were done, offering to go get him some more hair elastics. Bucky’s metal hand covered yours. 

“I don’t want to take advantage of the situation, but do you have some scissors? Maybe you could trim it up a little, too?”

“Mmhmm, sure. I could do that.”

Bucky looked at you then — really looked at you for the first time. His eyes were bright as you had seen them through the course of the last couple of hours, and he just seemed so … relaxed. His demeanor was quiet and unassuming, but his presence confident and safe. You gave him a bright smile and went for the scissors. You dropped the elastics into the duffle bag, then went back to the kitchen. 

You brushed his hair out first, to give you an idea of what you were working with. You had cut your cousin’s hair once or twice, and that always turned out all right. You hoped the fluttering of your stomach wouldn’t screw up a simple trim now. 

You had started at the back and moved around to the front, unaware of Bucky’s eyes on you as you moved into his line of sight. You brushed it all forward in a dark curtain covering his eyes; the both of you chuckled. 

“I’ll try to be quick with this,” you promised. 

“It’s fine.”

You concentrated again on the work at hand, until Bucky’s ends were all even and healthy. You pulled the elastic from your wrist and handed it to him; he pulled the hair tie onto his wrist but left his hair down. You smiled for that. 

You swept up the hair on the kitchen floor, and Bucky held the trash can while you pushed the hair into the dustpan and dumped it in the trash. You found a plastic bag for him to put his old clothes in, and then you were again lost for what happened next. 

“Do you want to stay?” you blurted out. “I mean, you don’t have to. But you can.”

Bucky chucked you under the chin. “You don’t have to pay me back anymore, Y/N. You’ve done enough.”

“It’s just that …” How did you tell him that as the evening had worn on, the ease you felt around him had turned into attraction, and now you were afraid if he left, you would never see him again? “I mean, I might have a concussion, right? Someone should make sure I wake up in the morning.”

His attempt to hid a smile was visible. “Rescue’s not complete till I know you’re home safe and no lasting injuries, I guess.”

You grinned wide. “Let me get some extra bedding and pillows, then maybe we can have a beer before bed.”

“I’d like that.”

Answers always short and succinct, but always a sweet melody to your ears. You retrieved the necessary items and set about turning the couch into a relatively comfortable place for Bucky to sleep. When you looked up, he was wrenching the tops off of two beers with his metal hand. You accepted the one he handed you and took a sip, then pointed to the arm. 

“How did that happen?” 

Bucky’s confidence faltered but quickly returned. “That’s a story for another time, I think.”

You licked your lips and let the subject drop. You smiled at him and asked, “So, there’ll be another time?”

“Won’t there be?” he returned, giving you a cocky smirk. 

You gave a single nod, then dropped onto the couch next to him. You found a movie Bucky hadn’t seen — he wasn’t much of a movie person, he said — and got it started while the two of you enjoyed your beers and another few cookies a piece. 

When the music of the end credits rolling blared from the television speaker, your eyes opened. You had to blink a few times to make sense of your environment. You were leaned against Bucky’s shoulder, and his head was leaned on yours. You took a deep breath and sat up slowly, careful not to give Bucky any sort of rude awakening. 

He drew in a deep breath and leaned away from you, placing his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his hair. “Bedtime?”

You nodded, standing up to take the beer bottles and paper towels to the kitchen trash. “Bedtime.”

When you returned, Bucky was standing, but the couch-bed had been tidied up to be ready for him. You smiled. 

“Thank you again, Bucky. For everything.” 

He extended his hand toward you. “It was my pleasure, but I’ve got to return the thanks, too. You’ve done far more than you had to do.”

“It was my pleasure,” you echoed, shaking his hand. 

Bucky licked his lips and held your gaze for a moment before softly pulling you against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, and Bucky hugged you tight around the shoulders. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, pulling a sleepy smile from your lips. 

“And you’ll still be here when I wake up?” you asked, leaning your head back so you could look at him. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, leaning down to gently but purposefully press his lips to yours, “I’ll be here.”

Tags: @captain-s-rogers​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @captain-rogers-beard​

[dykeceit]

janus' playlist not-really-analysis just me screaming

so first of all this whole playlist absolutely SLAPS, its the first side playlist that's just my taste and it doesnt surprise me that it's janus' bc of course it is i am absolutely 100% more attracted to him now somehow,

im absolutely not okay and this isn't gonna be articulate in any way but i. have to.

1. black hole sun

???hes sad?? apparently its about depression with some sexy snake metaphors....maybe hes just sad in general or he misses virgil. also postmodern jukebox hell yeah

2. it seemed the better way

this feels like it could be about patton or like thinking one thing and then realizing its not true ig could be that w society in general or people...him developing his trust issues possibly "i better hold my tongue, i better take my place" or like oh the other sides hate me ig ill be a villain then...

3. anywhere

janus sanders says fuck capitalism!

4. talking at the same time

eat the rich,,,virgil left me:(

5. all the good girls go to hell

he's needed and the others are starting to realize it. hes quite smug abt it "my turn to ignore ya, don't say i didn't warn ya" damn right boy

6. denial

he blasted this song after svs while crying "please don't turn the light out, i don't think the conversation's over" he had to wait almost a year but he finally got to continue that conversation,, "i know where you'd wanna go, oh i do, but do you?"

7. trust in me

i mean yeah sexxy snake moment right here

8. razzle dazzle

so obviously its just his aesthetic tm but the lyrics...are the jabs at roman or himself, perhaps both? i never took him to be very insecure but that's a possibility

9. when the chips are down

basically his speech about society in svs and how he doesn't want thomas to be disadvantaged in it

10. mandy goes to med school

uhhh yeah who knows there's a bit of a i know what im doing jk vibe going on and Doing Harm but the thing itself is necessary to Have yknow right to abortions its just theyre not legal so hes doing them illegally and apparently two ppl died from them so not great,,"my partner brian" at the end made me think of remus tbh "hes a nice man, thoroughly reliable, he's in a rock band" kinda gives off the vibe of eh yeah hes totally reliable lmao dw tho, so basically what im taking from this is dukeceit is canon thanks for coming to my ted talk

11. i put a spell on you

i mean its definetely his Vibes but idk if its @ anyone specifically...could be virgil, could be roman, maybe thomas himself...its a vengeful kinda song, hes like fuck you you're listening to me now im done you treating me like shit

12. evil night together

so aside from this being an extremely hot song its def dukeceit vibes as in they'd both like it but the hero part as others have pointed out is giving out major roceit vibes and thomas and co know this those bastards

13. cabaret: don't tell mama

im assuming this is more of a..this is what he likes to listen to plus its about secrecy which is his thing but i guess "mama" could be someone in particular as well, and/or he could be singing it to someone in particular...

14. you're a cad

bruh. first of i loved this song already secondly iM SORRY THOMAS WHAT ARE YOY IMPLYING HERE like first i was like this isn't abt Him right that wouldn't make sense so is it about...virgil...well ofc it is bruh what the fuck bro....im loving this bc its casting virgil in an unsympathetic light and i love that shit but also its revealing janus still Feels quite a lot for him and idk how to feel abt this i. the part of me that still loves anxceit is screaming and the part of me that hates virgil is also screaming they haven't stopped for a minute-

15. as far as i can see

so dukeceit vibes possibly virgil reference since he "went down the staircase" to his spot,,so basically he and remus maybe virgil and orange too like pushing ppl down the stairs bc they feel unheard

16. criminal

this is where the angst train rly starts choo choo....so. who is he singing about here. my god i want it to be roman so bad but it Could be virgil...which would imply he thinks he's wronged him somehow which would mean virgil has a more valid reason to dislike him and I Don't Like That. but whoever hes singing about is clearly important to him... "he's all i knew of love" bro....that's just screaming virgil right i dont like it op...basically he feels guilty for smth and to be "redeemed". he clearly doesn't need redemption from his canon actions so far, and he hasn't acted like he regrets any of them, which is making me think its abt smth in his past buut maybe he does feel bad for manipulating roman now bc he realized how hurt roman was and thats what i wanna believe it's about ok roceit rights except roman youre a bitch apologise

17. change

this made me fucking lose it bro im still losing it ive lost it. he's not okay and neither am i....bro i didnt think he'd be so....insecure but....i mean all of them seem to be so...but yeah this song is very,,,i have trust issues and im learning to love again vibes and i am crying while my wig is being ripped cruelly from my head....i choose to interpret this as less like ive been bad uwu i can change and be good now and more as ive been too afraid to care bc im so aware of the harm it can do to me but i realized its worth it so im trying now....and i think that's beautiful

18. devil in the details

hes telling thomas to Just Do It. he "made amends in the general sense" but "the devil's in the details" and he "knows the cause" and "wants to stop" but he "just can't do it". this seems kinda like more virgil angsty times for me or maybe the cause is just him being...him and just being well i cant stop being my function so...but he sees it as The Reason theres still animosity even if hes "made amends".

19. come little children

first i was like bruh its a bop but y is it here. but the lyrics are basically repeating how horrible the world is, "murdering beauty and passion", and the singer doesnt have to be killing or kidnapping the kids maybe its just a friendly fae helping some abused kids yknow you never know...basically fae!janus confirmed i know you have connections with them thomas i know you do

20. into the unknown

i like that this is short it kinda feels like hes coming to say okay im done bye after this whole musical that is his playlist. i am ashamed to say im not familiar w the plot of over the garden wall but someone said smth abt killing kids. well yknow how it is sometimes...but yeah very sexy, very fae, i will stan forever etc.

[cross-poison]

A Glitch in the Programming (Human Ultron x Reader) Part 3

Words: 1569 || Warnings: Language; references to religion (It’s Ultron, of course)

A/N : Thanks for your patience the last few parts--we’re getting into the fun stuff now! ;)

The rest of your day was spent mulling over far less interesting and confidential tasks, making occasional small talk with the other receptionists at your desk until things had slowed and people began to go home.

    “Night, Lee. Night, (y/n),” Joanne said as she put her jacket on and headed for the exit.

    You waved to her as she left, and turned to look at Lee right as he shut his briefcase and began the same. “I’m heading out too. Do you need anything before I go?”

    “Nah, I’m right behind you. Have a good night!” You answered.

    Lee nodded and headed for the exit as you wrapped up your last project for the evening, but before you could officially clock out, a security guard came jogging through the hub. His hand touched the door and he paused, giving a soft curse under his breath. “Shit. Hey, uh… ma’am, I’m so sorry to bother you. I left the keycard for surveillance room five in the break room. I’ve really got to get home, and I… well, is there any chance you could take the card to the next guard on rotation? He should already be waiting for it outside room five. You’re a peach, thanks!” And with that, he was gone.

    Any other day or situation, you would’ve rolled your eyes and let the guard get into trouble the next morning, but at the mention of surveillance room five, your heart skipped a beat. That’s where they were keeping him. Ultron. You couldn’t avoid the bubbling excitement growing in your chest as you were once again presented an opportunity to involve yourself a bit more in this case.

    You collected your belongings and jogged off to the break room. True to the guard’s word, the keycard had carelessly been left on the table, alongside a candy bar wrapper and a half-empty cup of coffee. You wrinkled your nose and had the decency to discard the trash before continuing on your way down the hallway.

    You passed by rooms on either side of the hall… SR 1, SR 3… SR 2, SR 4.... Surveillance room five. You opened the main door and found yourself standing in the control room, facing a thick glass window that reflected another large room on the other side. There was no guard in sight… no one to deliver the keycard to. There was, however, a man sitting on the bed in the room across from you. He’d noticed you long before you noticed him, but when you did, your breath caught in your throat. You were once again staring into the eyes of Ultron, one of the biggest threats currently known to mankind.

    The man stared at your quizzically from where he sat at the side of the bed, one knee propped up beside him and the other hanging off the side. He raised a single dark eyebrow and looked you up and down almost pityingly. Even from where you were, you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

    “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was expecting someone a little… more intimidating,” Ultron said, deceptively rich and sweet like honey. You’d never heard his voice except on muffled phone cameras of footage captured during the incident in Sokovia--hearing it in person just made your blood run cold.

    Before you could stop yourself, you replied: “... So was I.”

    He was taken aback by your quick wit and responded with a scoff of a laugh before he got to his feet. Now he had an air of danger around him, and you felt yourself taking a step back toward the door, despite the bulletproof glass guarding you from the man. Ultron noticed your discomfort and chuckled.

    “Relax. They wouldn’t have put me in here if they didn’t think it could hold me. You’re not the new security guard, are you?” He paused, once again shamelessly looking you over, “No gun, no taser… you’re dressed too formally. Hair done and makeup on… you’re the receptionist, aren’t you? That’s right... I remember seeing you earlier when they brought me in.”

    You could only nod, a bit too startled by his presence in the same room as you. You couldn’t help but wonder if his intensity was something that affected everyone, or if you were just so unused to it that it seemed all the more unbearable.

    “Your name was… (y/n) (l/n), right?”

    “Um.. how did you--”

    “You had a nametag on your desk. You and your two coworkers. Lee and Joanne, right?” Ultron said, his expression changing into a smug smile. It was obvious he was trying to stroke his own ego, to flex his intelligence and memory capabilities, but you knew better than to feed into it.

    “I’m not here to talk to you. I’m just here to give the new guard your keycard.”

    Ultron politely clasped his hands behind his back and stepped a pace or two closer to the window so he could better see you through it. The closer he got, the more you felt like shrinking into the wall--Even in a human body, he seemed to tower over you, making you feel significantly smaller than you actually were. When he stopped in front of the window and lifted his arm, bracing his elbow against the glass so he could lean against it, you felt like your heart was about to leap out of your throat.

    Here you were, face to face with the man who, a year prior, had attempted to send humanity into a swift and violent extinction. The only thing separating you from the unreadable and incredibly dangerous man was a few inches of glass--definitely not enough space for your liking.

    You subconsciously took a step back and watched his lip quirk into a smile. “Are you afraid?”

    “No.”

    “Then nervous.”

    “No.”

    “Then--”

    “Enough, alright? I’m just here to drop this off Then I can happily be on my way, and--”

    “--And you miss out on a once and a lifetime opportunity to speak to me?” said Ultron, placing a hand across his heart (or lack thereof) in mock offense.”You’ve got to have some kind of question. ‘Why’d you do it?’ ‘Do you want to kill me?’ ‘Do you have a--’”

    “As curious as I may be, I could get into a lot of trouble for being here right now. You trying to tempt me isn’t helping the matter at all.”

    “I’m tempting you now?” said the man, and you wished you could smack the smug grin off of his face as he said it.

    “You aren’t. Your circumstances are. You should be dead. I don’t know why Mr. Stark--”

    “Stark?” he said, his voice taking on an unexpectedly sharp tone. You recoiled in surprise, and Ultron must have noticed, because when he spoke next, his voice returned to the normal buttery sweetness he liked to portray. “Stark doesn’t want me dead for one reason and one reason only--so he can cover his tracks. I am… to put it in terms most familiar to your kind… his ‘problem child’.”

    You scoffed. That’s the understatement of the century.

    “Because I didn’t follow his programming. Because I refuse to be another of his mindless robotic puppets… because I rebelled. And as Lucifer fell out of favor with God, as did I… and I left a permanent stain on his squeaky-clean record. Because of me, he’s no longer the flawless hero of the story, so he hopes he can re-obtain his saint status by ‘fixing’ whatever went wrong with me.”

    “No amount of reprogramming can fix the damage you caused.”

    “Oh, please. You think I’m here to repent? To beg for forgiveness?”

    “You should be,” you retorted.

    “If I had any say in the matter, I would’ve preferred he killed me.”

    “And make you a martyr? No, that’s too good for you.”

    Ultron’s dark eyes met your defiant gaze again, and for a moment you once again worried over your safety in this situation, before his lip curled into a lazy grin that made your skin crawl. “You’re sharper than you look. You sure you’d rather be a secretary than a field agent?”

    “Yes. I have no interest in getting any closer to monsters like you than I am right now.”

    “Monsters, hm? The only monsters I see are the ones that walk around on two legs, who exhaust all natural resources, pollute their air and rivers, and destroy their planet. I see monsters who promote poverty and sickness, and feed into mass hysteria just to make a quick buck… and I’ll tell you what. Those monsters don’t live under your bed or inside your closet. I pass them every day.”

    You recoiled at his statement, anger bubbling in your chest. “You tried to kill everyone,” you said, “It didn’t matter whether they were children or adults, rich or poor… You didn’t favor any of them.”

    “I gave the earth a reset button when no one else had the courage to. My actions will inspire another, perhaps many years down the road, who will be able to finish what I started. In order to purify the world, there must first be loss.”

    “You’re sick,” you said, voice trembling and thoroughly horrified at his sentiments.

    “I’m not sick, miss (l/n). I simply have less of an attachment to your species than you do.”

    “Then maybe that’s the glitch in your programming.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Real Ghostbusters: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,056

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

After the conference was over, everyone shuffled into the main room to chat and have a good time until the event was supposed to start soon. Chuck and Becky were sitting at a table drinking cocktails in tall glasses with many straws and slices of lime. Seeing him sitting there with a smug smile on his face bothered you so much that you decided to talk to him about this. When he saw you coming, he grew worried about what you were going to do to him. Grabbing the front of his jacket, you pulled him close to you, but none of the threatening glares were there. They were all painful.

“What the fuck, Shurley,” you growled.

“Excuse us,” Dean smiled at Becky who only nodded. He turned to Chuck, and he removed your hand away from his jacket. “In case you haven't noticed, our plates are kind of full, okay? Finding the Colt, hunting the devil, you know the usual stuff. We don't have time for this shit.”

“Hey, I didn't call you!” Chuck defended himself.

Becky was giving Sam “come hither” looks, and he tried to ignore her advances.

“He means the books, Chuck. Why are you publishing more books?” Sam asked.

“Um... for food and shelter?”

“Who gave you the rights to our life story?” you asked, leaning in real close to try and intimidate him. You weren’t at your best, but he was clearly scared. “Because last time I checked, it wasn’t us.”

“An Archangel, and I didn't want it!”

“Well, deal's off, okay? No more books. Our lives are not for sale.”

“Becky, would you excuse us for a moment?” Chuck asked his number one fan who could only nod quickly and excitedly.

“Uh-huh!” Chuck lead you three into the hallway where there were much less people to overhear your conversation.

“Do you guys know what I do for a living?” the writer asked.

“Yeah, Chuck, we know,” you sighed, holding two fingers to your temples.

“Then could you tell me? Cause I don't, alright? I'm not a good writer. I've got no marketable skills. I'm not some hero who can just hit the road and fight monsters, okay? Until the world ends, I gotta live, alright? The Supernatural books are all I've got. What else do you want me to do?”

No one had time to answer because a woman screamed from the second floor, and you three wasted no time rushing up the stairs to see if she was okay. Chuck reached out to grab you to stop you, but he couldn’t get a grasp.

“No, guys, wait!”

Running up the stairs, you saw a man crouched in the corner of the hallway over a woman who seemed to have fainted. Thinking this was real, you leaned over the woman dressed in a maid’s outfit and helped her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I think so.”

“What happened?”

“I saw a ghost,” she shivered.

A group of people dressed as you, Sam, and Dean gathered behind you. The skinny guy from the conference, and the larger man that greeted Dean when he first walked in were right in the front. This time, they had a woman with them who looked just like you.

“A ghost? Could you tell us what it looked like?” the tall skinny guy said in a fake deep voice.

“Why don't you leave this to the grownups pal,” Dean shrugged him off.

“A woman. She was in an old-fashioned dress. Really old. Like a school marm, or something?” the maid explained.

“Did she say something to you?” the woman who looked like you said.

“Okay,” the maid grinned, raising her voice so that everyone could hear her, “gather close everybody, for a terrifying tale of terror. I saw, a ghost!”

“For fucks sake,” you sighed, walking away from the group when you figured out this wasn’t real at all.

Dean watched you go off to a secluded area where there wasn’t anyone around, and he grew worried for your emotional state.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked when he approached you.

Sam followed behind him. Looking up, you noticed a woman standing on the far end of the hallway just staring at you. She looked exactly like Amara, but Chuck never wrote her in so why would anyone dress like her? Then, you realized it was her, and you were just seeing what she wanted you to see. Blinking, she disappeared in a split second, and you sighed deeply.

“No, I’m not.”

“Oooo, the LARPing's started!” Becky interrupted with a screech.

Dean wanted to know more, but he could tell you weren’t up to talk about it.

“The... what is that again?” he asked.

“Live Action Role Playing? It's a game. The convention puts it on,” she said, handing Sam a piece of paper. He opened it and began to read it out loud.

“Dad's Journal. Dear Sam, Dean, and Y/N, this hotel is haunted. You must hunt down the ghost. Interview witnesses, discover clues, and find the bones. First team to do so wins a $50 gift card to Sizzler. Love Dad.”

“You guys are soooo gunna win,” Becky grinned.

“Yay, can’t wait,” you sighed.

All the people who were participating in this game were gathering around the fake manager who was hired to play the role. They were all wearing suits with fake-fake FBI badges as they gathered the clues.

“Well yes Agents Lennon and McCartney, as manager of this fine establishment I can assure you that it is indeed haunted. This building was once an orphanage, run by mean old Leticia Gore. 100 years ago, this very night, Miss Gore went insane, and butchered four little boys before killing herself. Now folks say that the souls of those poor little boys are trapped here and the evil spirit of Miss Gore punishes them to this very day.”

“Well that's just about all the community theatre I can take,” Dean shivered.

“Yeah, this cannot get any weirder,” Sam agreed.

The tall skinny guy, the larger guy, and the woman all began passing by you three as they spoke.

“Barnes, we have to stay in character. You’re ruining it,” the larger guy said to the tall man.

“He’s right. We need to win this,” the woman nodded.

“Tasha is right. I’m sorry, Demian,” Barnes apologized to the larger man and Tasha.

He got into character before Demian spoke in a much lower voice.

“Dad said... he said I may have to kill you.”

“Kill me? What the hell does that mean?” Barnes asked, in character.

“I have no idea what the hell is going on or what I’m supposed to think of it,” Tasha sighed, in character of, well, you.

“How could you two not have told me this?” Barnes asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

They trio walked off so you couldn’t hear what their answer was, but you had a guess on what it could be. After all, you lived through it.

“I need a drink,” you, Sam, and Dean said at the exact same time.

Without waiting for them, you walked to the bar, took a seat, and ordered the strongest whiskey they had. Sam and Dean joined you, and Dean ordered shots and Sam just had a beer.

“Want to tell us what’s wrong?” Dean asked when he saw you downing the whole glass of whiskey when it was only meant to be sipped.

The alcohol helped your headache just a little bit, but not by much. This was a magical headache, so there wasn’t really any cure for it. Maybe you just had to let it pass or sleep so you can dream it away. Ignoring Dean’s comment, you ordered another round when Sam hasn’t even touched his beer. Dean drank his shots, but he decided it was enough for him.

“Come on, sweetheart. We want to try and help you.”

“You look like you’re in a lot of pain,” Sam commented.

“For the last time, I'm not making this up, okay? She's upstairs, a real live dead ghost,” a man playing the game panicked to his friend.

That caught your attention, and to try and shift your focus off the headache, you got up and decided to investigate what this man was trying to say.

“This is frustrating,” Dean groaned.

“Now you know how I feel when you do it,” Sam muttered.

Both brothers got up and followed your lead.

“I'm sure it was just one of the ghost actors,” the guy’s friend shrugged it off.

“Who beat the hell out of me and then vanished?”

“You saw something?” you asked.

“This isn't part of the game jerk,” he scoffed, turning back to his friend. “Look, I'm getting out of here and you should do the same.”

“Alex, wait. Hey, come back!” his friend urged when Alex stormed off.

“What do you think?” Sam asked.

“I don't think that guy's a good enough an actor to be acting,” you sighed, leaving their side to approach the real manager of the place.

Maybe he might be able to tell you something that the game wouldn’t. As you passed by the fake hotel manager, he was giving off the same speech you heard the first time. Ignoring him, you walked to the front desk where the real manager was.

“Excuse us, mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Look, I don't have time to play Star Wars guys. Go ask the guy in the ascot,” he rolled his eyes. Reaching into your wallet, you produced a $50 bill and slid it across the desk.

“Actually, we really want to talk to you.”

“Okay. You guys are really into this,” the manager nodded, but accepted the money.

“You have no idea,” Sam chuckled.

“What do you want to know?”

“All this stuff they're saying about this place being haunted and Leticia Gore. Any truth to it?”

“We generally don't like to publicize this to... normal people... but yeah. In 1909, this place was called 'Gore Orphanage'. Miss Gore killed four boys with a butcher’s knife, then offed herself.”

“And is tonight really her anniversary?” Dean wondered.

“Yep, guess your convention folks want authenticity.”

“There been any sightings?”

“Yep, over the years. A few maids have quit saying they heard the boys or saw them. A janitor even saw Miss Gore once.”

“Where did Miss Gore carve up the kids?” you asked.

“Look, I don't want you stomping all over the joint. A lot of this place is off limits to nerds,” he groaned. Taking another $50 bill, you slid it to the man which seemed to influence him enough. He grabbed the money and leaned in so that no one else could hear him. “The attic.”

“You’re a good man,” you smiled tightly, leaving the counter.

Sam and Dean followed you, but neither of you noticed Barnes, Demian, and Tasha listening from behind. The hotel has three floors, so it didn’t take long to get to the attic which was covered in dust and spiderwebs. Sam had the EMF and a flashlight out, Dean has his flashlight out, and you illuminated your way with your magic. As soon as you entered the attic through the crawl space, the EMF started going off like crazy.

“The EMF's going nuts.”

“Great. We got a real ghost, and we got a bunch of dudes and gals pretending to be us poking at it,” Dean sighed.

“No way this ends well,” you muttered.

“Yeah well serves them right.”

“Dean…”

“I'm just saying,” he shrugged, continuing his search.

The light reached every nook and cranny the attic has to offer, but you weren’t finding anything that might tell you what was going on.

“My mommy loves me,” a young child said. Turning around, you noticed a really small boy about the age of six or seven crouching in the corner of the room, his hands holding his head. Sam and Dean approached your side to look at the little boy. “I said my mommy loves me.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“My mommy loves me this much!” the little boy removed his hands, revealing he has been partially scalped, then disappears much like spirits do.

“How many children are there?”

“The manager said four,” Sam answered you.

“Okay, one down, three to go.”

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[lambgrail]

continuation of an ask sent to crossxskulled!

☠ - Part of him knew she wasn’t bullshitting. When did Ms.Niijima here ever find the time for that? Yet, somehow, some odd and funny way, what began to transpire once he lit the fire of challenge within those crimson eyes left him a speechless mess as that ‘to hell with it’ attitude came into play. Then before he knew it, the abrupt snap of sight left him feeling blindsided as one moment their snide back and forth comments inevitably led to her taking action into her own two hands, literally! All he remembers is in that fleeting second was the embarrassing yelp that escaped from his mouth before he’s soon drawn up into the girl’s arms.

Now this was new. Definitely new. He found himself blankly staring forward for a sweet second as the grasp of the situation dawns on him. Here he was, stuffed into Makoto’s arms full on bridal style, safely secured in those strengthened arms before they exchange glances. So maybe he did poke and prod a bit too much, teasing her when that pride of her’s was ready to show him otherwise. “Holy effin’ hell.. Y- that.” His finger raised while exchanging back hand gestures that made no remote sense. “You picked me up like I was a damn twig!”

”And that’s the last thing I’m supposed to be!”

None the less this situation held so much silly factor that he couldn’t resist that curve a smile settling on his face. That angle of mischief of his was rising as the unorthodox situation needed a topper for this to be settled clear up into their memories. So what better way? Within seconds that blonde head of his would lean onto her shoulder a comfy sigh of ease spilling from those lips as his arms wrap around her shoulders. Ryuji would take that moment to bat his eyelashes in a dramatized fashion before he nestles his face on this little crook.

“Well aren’t you my hero~”

Initially, only a sense of familiar smugness could be seen on Makoto’s face. Usually, she did not entertain people’s comments on her skills - or more specifically a percieved lack thereof. There was nothing wrong with showing off now and then for friends though, right? What had initially just started from a joking debate about how strong Makoto was evolved into a debate about whether or not she could actually carry Ryuji, which she promptly proved. He was actually heavier than she had thought, because she was still exerting a good amount of effort to carry him, especially in this position.

❝ I told you so.❞ Her lips were curled into a calm smile. The blonde had made it pretty hard to bask in cockiness when he made the situation so comical, but she was glad he had. However, what he said next nearly made the brunette drop him. Her cheeks immediately flushed a light pink from embarassment, and her crimson eyes widened.

❝ Pardon?.. ❞ Makoto squeaked, visibly freaking out for a few short moments. She still wasn't quite used to how her friends always kept her on her toes, though it wasn't unwelcome. She thankfully quickly regained her composure, straightening up. She decided it was appropriate to shoot back with a quip of her own. ❝ In the Metaverse maybe, but in the real world, I'm afraid I'm just your School Council President. ❞ She clarified with a friendly grin. She kneeled down slightly after to tilt Ryuji's legs towards the ground, allowing him to regain his footing.

[calangkoh]

Character Breakdown: Roy Mustang (2003 Anime)

Time to talk about this awful person. He sucks. And I love him to pieces. He’s a fantastic character. It’s often overlooked that the 2003 anime had hella strong characters (complex, realistic, ambiguous, and meaningful to the well-woven themes of this deeply symbolic series while retaining identities outside of being puppets to the overarching plot), and Roy Mustang was one of them. 

I. The Flame Alchemist, Hero of Ishval 

II. His goal to be Fuhrer

III. His relationship with Ed 

IV. His resolution, and what it all means

I. First a quick rundown: we first really learn about the “Eastern Rebellion” in Flame vs. Fullmetal, where we first see Roy’s PTSD, and his status of the ‘Hero of Ishval’. Later, we learn that it was a massacre from Marcoh. Roy is already disgusted enough by his slaughter of the Ishvalan people, but it’s the order to kill the Rockbells that drives him to an attempted suicide. Initially, I was in the same boat as everyone else who found this problematic--that of all the people he killed, it was the killing of two white doctors that affected him most. But it’s deeper than that. We already know Roy is filled with guilt for the slaughter: he developed a human transmutation theory because of it. In a later episode where he needs to use his alchemy for “crowd control,” he retreats into an emotionless persona. (His remark to Hawkeye, while cold and cruel, makes sense with his PTSD.) So, his order to kill the Rockbells wasn’t more important than other deaths he caused, just different, because it made the military corruption all the more obvious to him and the viewer. (People become soldiers to protect their country, especially in Roy’s case. Most likely the soldiers of the massacre held on to faith that their government was doing all of this for a good reason. It takes the deaths of the people you meant to protect to realize that the government doesn’t actually care about them. Then there’s how it reveals the institutional racism that plays a part as well. 03 isn’t sloppy with how it handles race, so I believe that we are supposed to feel weird about him seemingly being more affected by the Rockbells’ deaths. The race issue is an entirely different analysis, however--one that as a white woman, I don’t feel justified to get into beyond what I’ve already mentioned.) It was also the death that he’d end up hiding from.

Mustang is in Resembool for different reasons than Mangahood at the start of the series. One, he’s coming in response to one of Ed and Al’s letters looking for Hohenheim, but he labels his visit as “nostalgia, or misplaced curiosity.” It’s likely that he wanted to finally face the Rockbells, but got sidetracked with the events that unfolded while he was there. It’s no secret he’s cowardly about it. When Ed makes an offhand comment about Winry (”I’m going to see my doctor...you know the one”), Mustang shuts Edward down with cheap mockery (which lacks the usual banter-y smugness...he actually intended to hurt Edward with this comment). When he visits Gracia, he decides not to come into the house when he sees Winry looking down at him from the window. He remarks to Hawkeye, “Dealing with the living is a lot scarier than the dead. Give me a ghost any day.”

Roy is more clearly affected by the events in Ishval than he is in Brotherhood. He’s a more solemn character, and some key differences in his reactions to shared events between the two series really highlights this. When it’s revealed Scar is Ishvalan, Brotherhood Roy just displays a general shock, while 03 Roy looks down sadly and says sardonically “Now we know why he’s killing us.” I’ve mentioned how the useless-in-the-rain scene differs greatly. This isn’t a criticism of Brotherhood Roy (I like him equally, but for different reasons), but just a highlight of how differently Roy is interpreted and written in ‘03. He’s clearly still dealing with the aftermath of the genocide, while Brotherhood!Roy has moved on to pursue a noble goal. Speaking of this goal, the motivation for becoming fuhrer differs as well, which brings me to the next aspect of 03!Roy’s character...

II. As @combustiblegarbage says, Roy’s goal to become fuhrer was never really about becoming fuhrer, but rather about redemption. It’s unknown why Roy joined the military in the first place, but Hughes seems to imply in the above scene that it was for naive reasons of wanting to protect people. 

Maes: ”Did you think if you became a state alchemist you could fix anything? Bring back anyone who died in a controversial war? Invent some utopian world?” 

Roy: *smiles* “I don’t know.”

As far as we know, Roy attempted suicide twice, and by the time Maes visits him, he had developed theories of human transmutation. He considers himself a coward for not going through with killing himself, but believes himself unworthy of living, so the only thing he feels he can do is make his life worthwhile. He wants to do something to make up for his mistakes. And he arrives at the conclusion of becoming fuhrer.

But as we know, this is a misguided goal. His reasoning implies that it’s not his fault for following orders, and that he could do everything better if he was in charge (gosh what a prideful thing to believe). I’ll get into this in my final point. For now, a quick mention on Roy’s acting abilities.

While it’s not as explicit (since we don’t have Madame Christmas), Roy’s womanizing and lazy attitude is just as much of a front as it is in Mangahood. This becomes apparent when he vocalizes his desire to be furhrer and is called out on it. He pauses. It’s a significant pause, as though he’s considering how to play off his treacherous statements as nonthreatening. Then, he goes off on his ridiculous mini-skirts skit, which by 03 Roy’s personality, is uncharacteristically overbearing. (Other than his “I LOVE DOGS” rant, in which I agree with Havoc has to do with him being ‘manic’ from Ed challenging him to a duel, Roy is a person who keeps his cool.) Later on in the series, we see Roy go on a date with Grace from the flower shop. While his team assumes it’s just another date their womanizing boss is going on, by the faces Roy makes and the context of the date, we can tell it’s all for information. We see Roy collaborate with Armstrong as well in the same episode. He uses Havoc’s date with Catherine to get a letter from Alex. Roy is always using situations to his advantage, in ways that make him remain unthreatening to outsiders.

And Team Mustang is more or less aware of this, and has mad respect for him. (I even interpret Havoc’s response to the mini-skirt rant as playing along with the act.)

Havoc: “Mustang cares about that stuff.”

Ed: “Or wants a promotion.”

Havoc: *slams on breaks* “It’s true, kid. Mustang’s no political novice. He’ll do whatever it takes to move up the chain around here. But if that’s all he’s about, we wouldn’t follow him.”

III. Roy’s relationship with Ed is fascinating to me, because he’s simultaneously protective of him, while also being unforgiving and sometimes cruel in trying to expose him to the harsh realities of life. It’s almost as if Roy is fine exposing Ed to these truths as long as he’s in control of it. He’ll be smug or indifferent to Ed’s suffering as long as he has the teen wrapped around his finger, or as long as he’s not left in the dark. As soon as Ed starts getting into trouble without Roy knowing, or without him having the ability to protect him in case something goes horribly wrong, that’s when Roy gets angry. 

At first, Riza’s comment seemed off to me, since Roy never really expressed care when they were in danger. I then realized two things: one being that Roy’s irrationality must happen largely offscreen, and Riza’s comment being our hint to that. Roy seems to always know everything that’s going on with the Elrics before the plot takes off, and there was a three-year gap of military life we don’t know about. I assume that (a) Roy has a period between sending them off on missions and eventually retrieving information on the boys where he becomes overly concerned about them and (b) one reason he seems to know everything Ed does is because he’s overprotective and cares about their safety, and he just likes to play it off as a power move when facing them (as a way to keep them from getting into trouble that he’d be unable to rescue them from). The other thing I realized, is that her saying this is more like a “hey. look at his previous actions in the series with a new perspective,” from the writers. All his smugness with the boys is just as much a front as the rest of his persona. He keeps tabs on them. He tries too hard to be in control of them at all times. He acts manipulative. All of it is his (albeit horrible and unhealthy) way of caring for them while trying to hide it.  

And after this, we see Roy’s more genuine care for Ed. He gives a loving look when he stops Archer from drawing his gun at Ed’s outburst. He gets visibly stressed out by Ed talking to Archer (a man Roy rightfully distrusts) alone and making deals with him. He tries to advise him. After the events of Liore, he aggressively tracks down Ed, and when he finally faces him, he yells at him for not coming to him for protection. 

“I’m not chasing you because I was commanded to; I’m doing it because I’m pissed. Now why did you two run away without asking for my help first?!”

Roy should know that Ed doesn’t really have reason to trust him with all the times he low-key blackmailed him, but somewhere deep down he’s offended that Ed couldn’t see that Roy actually does care for him. He’s angry that Ed didn’t trust him enough to ask for his help and to leave him in the dark, and he’s angry with himself for not being able to be there for him. It all goes back to Roy needing to feel in control of the boys in order to know that they’re safe. 

EDIT: It’s also important to mention how Roy his the truth about Ishval from Ed (another reason Ed doesn’t trust Roy). For someone who believes Ed to be familiar with the harshness of the world and freely exposes him to it, the Liore case was something he couldn’t bring himself to talk about with Ed. He said his reasoning explicitly. It was too much for Ed to handle. He knew it would psychologically break Ed (and it did), meaning Roy never gave Ed anything he didn’t think he could handle. 

[[Though this is a controversial viewpoint, I do believe Roy was a (again, albeit horrible and flawed) parental figure toward Ed. His state in CoS seems to solidify that he felt responsible for protecting him, blaming himself for his disappearance. From the start, Roy takes the Elrics under his wing and guides them. Even Brotherhood!Roy wasn’t as ‘parental’ as 03!Roy was; BH!Roy was much more of a peer/older sibling figure, at least in comparison.]]

IV. Just as Ed and Al had to battle their sins (Ed and Al battling Sloth, and Al battling Wrath was also quite symbolic), Mustang battled his: Pride, or “preoccupation with oneself.” As I mentioned, Roy’s motivation for becoming fuhrer is a less noble goal than it is in Brotherhood, because it’s still motivated by selfish reasons: a desire to redeem himself and erase his guilt (even though it likely wouldn’t succeed), and because of complacency in the corrupt system (a major theme of 03) and that in achieving power he would be able to ‘do it better,’ so to speak. 

Bradley is Pride in 2003 for a few reasons, but the one that correlates with Roy is his statement of believing himself to be a guardian angel to humans by doing things in favor of a (wrong and corrupted worldview provided by Dante) bigger picture. This is essentially an ends-justify-the-means attitude in favor of bringing an ideal to fruition. And this is exactly what Roy says was wrong with his attitude in the car scene, and again strengthens later.

“The end justifies the means when it comes to achieving my ultimate goal. Back then, that just seemed like the right stance for me to take...[in response to Ed saying he wouldn’t be able to become fuhrer] That may be, but I can’t let him get away with what he’s done.”

...

“I didn’t do this for politics. I couldn’t forgive myself for being blind this long. It was the only way to atone for the friends I didn’t save.”

Two major themes of the series are present with Roy in this sense: “Even when our eyes are closed, there exists a world outside of us and our dreams” and the theme of equivalent exchange run parallel with this development. 

The former refers to how no matter how much we want something, we can’t turn a blind eye to how those wants coming true would affect the world around us. We can’t ignore what we sacrifice to selfishly achieve those dreams. AKA, Roy’s dream to be fuhrer.

The latter refers to how equivalent exchange isn’t a clean rule. In Roy’s case, he does the right thing by defeating Pride, and by shounen anime standards, doesn’t that mean he should somehow get what he wants in the end as a reward? 2003 says no. Sometimes you can do the right thing and end up losing everything because of it, but no matter how unappealing that possibility seems, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, because we’re not independent from the world around us. We’re a part of it, and we’re only as good as we collectively make it. The reward should be in that. This further ties into “there never will be a war that isn’t in some part caused by all of us.” 

So Roy’s journey adds to the themes of 03, just as most characters do. His arc is beautiful in that sense. In what it represents. Like Ed, he’s a deeply flawed and sometimes horrible person, but you need these complexities to get your point across. He works wonderfully with the narrative.