#this isn’t canon in the slightest bit LMAO

[donutfloats]

Gabriel got bunny suited

[all-pacas]

I'm so sad we never really got to see Cameron in full girlfriend mode, especially in S4. You just know she was basically love-bombing and interrogating Chase at every moment trying to prove her love to him(and to herself). It's interesting to think about how much he'd confide in her, if at all, and if he is capable of setting any boundaries.

to be honest i think they probably … we like to play up their toxicity but i think they were perfectly capable of going long stretches as a functional couple lmao. they just explode under pressure.

but like. honestly i can absolutely see them being good for one another too. being happy together. you say cameron love bombs? i say chase, who has arguably never had that kind of affection in his life, would be so stoked about it. you know just the slightest bit of domesticity would be all he wanted. it’s canon cameron was the big spoon. it’s canon that chase tends to come on strong and fall in love at first sight.

they could be good for one another!! cameron is so repressed in a lot of ways, she doesn’t let herself relax, she is always in control. chase is so easy going, but more than that, he consistently sees through her. he actually does enforce boundaries with her when he thinks it matters (he dumped her in s5, then called off the wedding!), he’s quite willing to call her out and tease her. i can see cameron coming to really appreciate that; he’s very patient with her and she needs that. she’s going to fuck up, and he forgives her for it, and his more relaxed attitude — he’s the one who plans their vacations and probably dates, right? i think cameron can kind of relax with him. literally and because he’s good at pushing (gently) past her bullshit.

and cameron is sweet! she’s compassionate! she’s weird as hell, but i bet she buys him chocolates for valentines and he gets really excited about it. chase is so abnormal. he had a miserable upbringing, he had to take care of his mother and sister and always had the pressure of his father. you know he never got valentine’s chocolates. he also struggles to… care about people, let himself care. cameron cares a lot, i bet he admires it about her even as he hates it. he thinks she’s a good person. she’s driven and cares and isn’t coasting on apathy, she works hard. i can see her gently bossing chase around into caring and letting himself care and try. encouraging him when he stands up to house. i actually think cameron is probably really good at playing the supportive girlfriend; i think she wants to be seen as one and chase wants her to be one. self fulfilling prophecies, you know?

it’s just that they can’t handle pressure.

[polar-equinoxx]

A fic masterlist! Finally!

And here is my ao3 account :D

Take your pick, all of these are sfw, full of fluff or angst and definitely hurt/comfort; and are rated either gen or teen^^

More detailed summaries added underneath each one and oh my god this post is so long

featuring the main two of all of these bc why the hell not

Oh and the series on ao3 is linked in the headings of each sector :)

I will be updating this whenever I write more fics, so keep watch XD

☁️The heavens told me that clouds have been grey

all of my icemav fics! So guaranteed smooches <3 none of them link to each other unless they are in a seperate series ^^

find the masterlist here! yes I made a seperate post its because there are so many of them quq

🌟Canons shoot ships but not this one

all of my fics that could fit into the canon timeline, (featuring an occasional icemav smooch cus lets be for real they did probably kiss at least once)

find the masterlist here! yes I made a seperate post for this too lmao

Long-fics (5k or above)

🍁Hot Summer Nights to Cold Winter Days (18k words, 10 chapters split between two works)

Rated Teen, with fluff and a genourous amount of angst and hurt/comfort

When Goose and his pilot were allowed to go to Top Gun, then Ice couldn’t think of anything better. Only until he’d seen Maverick and fallen head over heels in love with him. That July Saturday had changed everything, Goose had gone, and Maverick had fallen into a deep dark pit, and Ice, wanting to look out for Maverick, had dived straight in after him, unwilling to let his wingman get stuck there. Ice promised Maverick he’d go to the ends of the earth with him, and that is what he would do, even if it meant they’d both hurt.

❄️Returning to You (25k words, 15 chapters)

❄️ Letters : Epilogue (1.5k words)

Rated Teen, a lot of angst. Seriously. But a lot of hurt comfort to make up for it :,) Oh yeah, the amnesia is the cause of the angst..

In the months after Goose’s death, Maverick has been forging a deep friendship with Iceman. So deep, in fact it feels like nothing could come between them, even though he hasn’t been entirely honest about exactly how he is feeling. It’s hard to do, but it only seems to get harder when a scouting mission takes a turn for the worse.

🌷Galloping into the Cold (5k+ words, completely a wip, 3 chapters right now)

Rated Teen, angst, fluff hurt-comfort, medieval au, they ride horses.

Thomas Kazansky, nicknamed Ice for the personality that isn’t even his; feels like he’s stuck in his pampered posh life. That’s until he falls off his horse and meets Peter Mitchell and realises he might have a chance to be something other than his surname.

🌙 when the human strokes your skin, that is when you let them in (29k words, 14 chapters)

Rated Teen, angst hurt/comfort and secretive mutual pining with miscommunication sprinkled on top

Top Gun. Top Gun! Maverick had only gone and actually done it, and it would be the best five weeks of his life, for sure. If only there wasn’t a distraction with the name of Iceman. Anyway, he was so relieved that he was going to do it and win that trophy with Goose. But many things don’t go to plan.

🌹Roses (5k words, a 4+1)

Rated Teen, angst, unrequited love, a lot of valentines days, pining and eventual fluff

Nobody in Iceman’s life has meant more to him than Pete Mitchell does. He’s dangerous and annoying but incredibly cute, and Ice thinks if he looks at him one more time with that smile of his, his legs are going to give out under him. Try as he might, he can’t say anything to address the crush he has on him. // Or, the four times Ice wants to admit to Maverick that he loves him and the one time he does.

🧊Not Enough (11k words, a 5+1)

Rated teen, angst, self doubt, abusive parents, mutual pining and eventual fluff

Iceman has been told one way or another and all through his life that he's not good enough, for whatever that may be. He dreads turning out even the slightest bit like his father, and he'll do everything in his power to stop himself from becoming like him. / Or, five ways people say to Ice that he's not enough and the one time he says it.

🐎Heaven In Your Eyes (WIP, 2 chapters at 3k)

They r cowboys, no-one dies, (!?!), they ride horses, with pining, fluff and friends to lovers

Thomas Kazansky is the notorious peace-maker of the new place in Colorado the people call Durango. Pete Mitchell was supposed to be passing it on his way to California, but the small town seemed nice enough to stay for while. For some reason, their paths keep crossing, but Pete, as rebellious as he is, doesn't mind. / Or, a western icemav fic that takes place in 1886

❤️‍🩹Goose lives AU (Goose lives and there's no such thing as DADT)

❤️‍🩹Seasick (1632 words)

Rated Teen, sickfic, hurt/comfort A mission is flown, the mission is successful, but a certain Pete Maverick Mitchell is seasick. Badly.

❤️‍🩹Saved by Sickness (2037 words)

Rated Teen, sickfic, hurt/comfort, this is how Goose lives lol The thing about Iceman is that he never gets sick. Or at least he thought he didn’t. Most of the time it was just a cold. Most of the time he jut felt a little bit more tired for a couple of days, then he was back to normal. This was not one of those times, as he's about to find out.

❤️‍🩹Spur of the Moment (3788 words)

Rated Teen, with fluff, pining, Goose and Slider embarrassing both Ice and Mav, and no DADT cus who am I to do that??? Maverick is about to fall asleep standing. He's so tired that the last thing he's going to be thinking about is what comes out of his mouth. Especially if it's 'baby'. Especially if it's to his wingman. Or, Maverick calls Ice 'baby' for the first time.

🕊Angelus AU (The icemav boys are angels, but that isn't normal)

🕊Growing Pains (1494 words)

Rated Teen, patching up injuries, angst, post-argument, hurt/comfort He doesn’t know how he gets to his bathroom, but once he reaches a point that lets him lift his head up to try and see his back in the mirror, he’s immediately chucked into a pit of horror and disbelief. “Oh god-” His wings were growing. God dammit of course they had to choose tonight to start.

🕊Cold Wings (2137)

Rated Teen, patching up injuries, fluff, hurt/comfort

The good news? Ice was there. / The bad news? There was blood all over his back and he was about to collapse over the sink. / “Oh jesus christ-” Maverick says as he shuts the door behind him and goes straight over to him, dropping the towel on the floor. || Or, Ice's wings decide to appear at a very awkward time.

🌠Shooting Stars (A small series where the icemav both stargazed as kids and Maverick dated Charlie beforehand)

🌠Starboard Half Light (3104 words)

Rated Gen, with pining, and hurt/comfort

It had been such a tiring day, and so emotionally charged too, so why was Maverick still wide awake? It seemed like the only option he had left was to go see Iceman, his newly titled wingman. Hopefully he was awake. Maverick just wanted to talk to someone. Or, Maverick and Iceman talk on the starboard side of the USS Enterprise for the entire night

🌠Shooting Stars (1886 words)

Rated Teen, a lot of kissing and pining. So much kissing seriously.

Maverick has always loved stargazing, ever since he was a kid. He has also had a crush on Iceman ever since he laid eyes on him. So what better to do than go stargazing with him, right?

🌠Afterglow (1635 words)

Rated Teen, hurt/comfort obviously with mentions of guilt tripping and Mav's past relationship with Charlie

“I- I promised…” “Hey, hey… you don’t have to be s-” “Yes I do,” Maverick interrupts him. “I promised her I wouldn’t because she’d- she…” She? “Who, Mav?” Or, Maverick wakes up in the middle of the night and tries to hide the nightmare he's just had from Ice, because he knows what will happen if he tells him.

[hollythius]

dearly detested ; howl jenkins-pendragon x reader

have i ever written enemies to lovers before? no. wait actually this is more rivals to lovers oops. also canon divergence i think. mix of the book + movie. female reader is implied but i use they/them pronouns.

also michael = markl. michael is howl’s apprentice, and is like…15. he’s just the book version of markl. (and also i like him way more than markl lmao).

rivals to lovers > enemies to lovers. there i said it.

hmm. it appears that the man upstairs gave me the ability to write angst. there’s some hurt/comfort mixed in there.

tw; blood, howl is a lot crueler i think, slight gore?, howl kinda kidnaps reader but they could leave if they wanted, non-sexual nudity, howl and the reader definitely have history, y/n is emotionally constipated, they take a bath together, you can cut the tension with a knife.

there was not one person you hated more in the entirety of ingary. everything about howl made you see red. every time his name crossed your ears, you bit back with doglike rage.

there was a time not too long ago where you felt differently, perhaps with even the slightest crush on the young wizard. but that was years ago, when you were still a student. now you were a full-fledged witch who saw through howl’s trickery. how could any respectable user of magic be such a dirty coward?

you sighed, the black masses fizzling away after leaving you bloodied. the witch of the waste was still on the prowl, and as sanctioned by the king, you were expected to rid of her. your dearly hated howl, however; was tasked with finding the king’s brother, prince justin.

his victory would surely trump your own, which of course angered you like nothing else. everyone would forget about the witch of the waste once the prince was found. so you decided to take your time with your contract. but now that you were rendered almost defenseless in the valley of the waste, the familiar puffing of the castle was once again something that stirred nostalgia and not hatred.

you lumbered closer to the castle, clutching your wounded side. the huge hunk of metal chugged closer to you, though you were sure that was coincidence. howl most certainly was not home. if he was, you would’ve ran back up into the waste.

you slung yourself at the back door, shoving it open with your shoulder. howl’s apprentice stood there, wide-eyed with a half finished spell on the table in front of him.

“m-master pendragon isn’t here right now,” michael stuttered. his wide eyes blew wider when they reached the deep gash in your middle.

“good.” you responded harshly, heading for the shelves of ingredients. your plan was to make a quick salve to stave off infection, but the creaking of the door made you freeze.

“oh? and what did the cat bring in this time, michael?”

his voice sent a chill down your spine. you dropped the vial you were holding, the glass breaking on the floor.

“and what manner of rodent may you be, my dear?” your rigid body turned around to find the horrible blond grinning down at you. his fingers traced your side, your body flinching as he flicked your blood off of them. “my, my, y/n. what in ingary has the king been making you do?”

you scoffed at his false curiosity. “i suppose you wouldn’t know,” you spat. he was only concerned with himself. “how has your contract been going?”

howl chuckled, and you had half a mind to punch his lights out. bang up that pretty face of his. “almost as well as yours, by the looks of it,” he said.

howl folded his arms, raising a brow. you knew what he meant. why had you come here, of all places? he was well aware of your loathing of him.

“it was close. i was sure you weren’t home.”

“so it was your intention to steal from me and then leave? calcifer would have told me everything,” he smirked. you narrowed your eyes.

“of course. but would you have sought me out? made me pay for whatever i had taken?”

howl’s face was stern, but you’d won. as you stared into his cold eyes, they finally darted away. you stopped the grin that pulled at your lips. howl turned to face the fireplace.

“prepare a hot bath. and lock the doors, calcifer. we can’t have our rat escaping just yet.” your heart dropped. “it appears they’re injured,” he sang, running a hand down your side. this time he didn’t bother flicking the blood off his fingers.

“i wouldn’t call them a rat, howl,” calcifer bit back before flaring up and doing his assigned tasks.

howl shoved your cloak off your shoulders. “michael, wash that for me. and you,” he turned and faced you, “accompany me to the bathroom, would you?”

you followed howl up the stairs, watching as his bloody hand trailed up the banister. he held open the bathroom door and steam fell out in thick tufts. “after you, my dear.”

you scowled. you stepped in, sitting atop the toilet seat. “so now what? going to watch me bathe, jenkins?”

“it’s nothing foreign, love,” he breathed, tipping salts into the bath water. “i’d rather not have poor michael be forced to supervise you.”

howl shrugged off his overcoat, letting it fall to the floor. he stretched his arms over his head, shoulders popping. he was left in a loose white shirt.

“i suppose you’re right, howl,” you sighed, finally giving in. “now, am i right in assuming that you have no intention of letting me leave until i heal?”

“would it please you if i said you are indeed correct in your assumption?”

you let a dry chuckle escape your pursed lips. your eye wandered, seeing all of howl’s beauty products. how many women had he charmed using these? immediately the homely aura returned to one of forced intimacy.

“of course it would,” you sang bitterly. howl laughed as he kneeled down to untie your bootlace.

“don’t play like that, my dear. i’m well aware of your…complicated feelings towards me.”

“what about them do you find complicated, oh great wizard of ingary?” you teased. however no amusement was in it, and none was found in his annoyance at the title you’d given him.

“i realize that i am a coward, there’s no reason to rub it in, dear,” his voice came out strained, and his eyes were shifting around.

you hummed. “i’m glad you’re self aware, howl. perhaps that fact brings you up a notch.”

“do you want my help or not, y/n?” he snapped. “or are you just here to berate me?”

you froze. he’d scared you many times before, but never once had howl jenkins ever raised his voice at you.

“i- howl, i didn’t mean it like that,” you sighed.

“of course you didn’t,” he sang, mocking you. his focus returned to your boots, swiftly pulling them off along with your stockings. the look in his eyes was distant. his hands edged towards your bloody blouse. “with your permission, my dear.”

“you know my answer, howl.” he seemed to lighten up at that. he did know the answer, which would always be yes.

soon your blouse was discarded on the floor along with your boots and trousers. you dabbed at your wound with a cloth howl had handed you.

“be grateful this gash wasn’t so deep that you needed stitches. i can fix this with magic.”

“go ahead,” you replied. howl’s hand moved to cusp your side, the warmth being replaced with the hot sensation of magic.

“this’ll leave a nasty scar, my dear,” howl said. but you weren’t paying any attention to him. your eyes focused on the thin flesh of his lips, pink and barely there. “though it doesn’t seem like you mind much.” his other hand grabbed your waist, pulling you atop him.

“i miss you, howl. every day,” you whimpered, burying yourself in his shoulder.

“then stay here. masking your longing with anger must be tiring.”

“i…can’t. not after how i’ve treated you,” you whispered.

“my dear, i know you only said those things to cope. it was the only way you knew how.”

the burning in your eyes ceased when you finally let your tears flow onto howl’s shoulder. he flinched when he felt your body quiver against him.

“howl,” your shaky voice barely audible as you gripped at the blond’s back. “i-”

“shhh. i know, my love. relax yourself.”

the two of you spent the next hour in the tub together, simply enjoying one another. howl calmed your shaky breaths, and made you feel like the only one in the world. you missed this. you missed him.

howl magicked up sleepwear, dressing himself and leaving you to sift through the pile of overzealous fabric until you found something suitable. you end up in something a tad too large for your figure, but you don’t mind. the softness of the silk garment is enough to make you even sleepier than before.

“howl?”

“yes, my dear, i know you’re tired. but please, let me speak for a moment?” he breathed, his blond hair brushing against your forehead. you respond with a sighed yes, and howl pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“never stray away from me again, my dear. it’s not good to keep things like this pent up for so long.”

your hands grasp at his back, and his lips make contact with your own. “i know, howl.”

howl’s lips parted in a kind smile, and he let out a small chuckle. he pressed his forehead against yours. “i love you, my dear.”

you answered him with a kiss on the lips. i love you too.

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek day 8! (which I definitely realized was happening and for sure did not forget lmao). The prompt was free day/au, so I picked my own theme of “pets”. The last few fics have been pretty loaded, so please enjoy some pure post canon (literal and figurative) fluff

~*~

“I can’t believe I married a dog person.”

They weren’t even supposed to be in the shelter. They had made no plans to visit a shelter. However, as Jon has been learning over the course of the past couple years, a Martin not under duress and given free time outside will inevitably end up trying to befriend any living nonhuman creature in the immediate vicinity.

“I’m not a dog person.”

“The lapful of beagle puppy would indicate otherwise.”

“Just because I appreciate the company of a very good boy, yes you are, doesn’t mean I’m a dog person. Dog person implies I have a preference. I like cats equally as much as I like dogs. Unlike some of us, my heart is open to all manner of furry friends.”

“I don’t...hate dogs.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you won’t pet Rufio here?”

“He’s nippy, I don’t trust him. And it’s just that dogs are A Lot. I find most of them a bit overwhelming. And needy.”

“Pff, that’s no excuse. You’ve been best friends with overwhelming, and you married needy.”

Martin lets out a distracted giggle as Rufio finally gets in a lick on his face. Okay, maybe it is a pretty adorable sight, but that’s hardly sufficient enough evidence to actually let such an energetic ball of fluff into their home. Still, it’s enough to convince Jon to sit down next to them, and give Rufio a very tentative scritch behind the ears. “I think we both qualify as the needy one in our relationship.”

“Pretty sure that’s called codependency. What would our therapist say?”

“She’d probably say that’s a bit harsh. And that we still need to work on our separation anxiety.”

“Hey, you know what helps with separation anxiety?”

“No.”

“A dog!”

“No!”

They get a dog. Their flat is decently sized and they both have steady incomes and enough free time between them to take proper care of her. They don’t get Rufio, but instead a 7 year old mutt named Daffodil who is, admittedly, the most gentle and sweet creature Jon’s ever met. They also get a cat, a rambunctious 2 year old tabby named Jack (“We can change the name.” “Jon! How dare you! Jack responds to his name, clearly he likes it!”) who had already decided Daffodil was his mom, and they couldn’t possibly bear not adopting them together.

~*~

“You know, we could get a tarantula.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious! They’re not, like, evil in this universe, and some of them have cutest little pink toesie woesies.”

“You’re not serious, you’re being a bastard, and I hate you.”

Martin wraps his arms around Jon’s waist and presses a kiss to the side of his face, which Jon gives a half-hearted swat at, because, again, the man’s being a bastard. Stubbornly ignoring Jon’s pout, Martin presses his cheek to the top of Jon’s head, cheerfully replying, “I’m fine with that, as long as you promise to hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“Well, I certainly can’t make that promise. I won’t even hate you ten seconds from now. I suppose you’ll have to settle for love instead.”

“Hmm. Deal.”

“We’re still not getting a fucking tarantula.”

They do not get a tarantula. Their home remains admirably spider free.

~*~

Martin’s gasp is loud enough to echo, and Jon can feel him begin to vibrate next to him. The excitement is perplexing at first, they’ve been to this bookstore dozens of times, and it’s never elicited this sort of response. Then Jon looks over to the front counter, where a medium-sized cage and a “For adoption” sign have been put on display. With a wild, jubilant glee, Martin asks, “Sonja! Are those baby. Dumbo. Rats?!”

“Sure are! I’ve got a friend who’s a breeder, I take it you’re interested?”

“Yes, absolutely, 100%, we’re getting two immediately.”

“Well…”

Martin snaps his head over to look at Jon with a look of betrayal the likes of which Jon hasn’t seen since the panopticon. “Jonathan, no!”

“Um.”

“You can not tell me you you don’t like rats! Dumbo rats especially!”

“I…”

Ticking off on his fingers, Martin lists, “They’re adorable, they’re smart, they’re cleanly, they’re extremely empathetic, they’re tickilish, which is stupidly cute, they can be trained to use a litter box and do tricks, they’re snuggly and playful and perfect! They’re all the good parts of dogs combined with the best parts of cats in one tiny portable package! Look at their little ears, that are like that because of a slight difference in skull shape that has no negative health effects! Plus, we can set them up in the project room, since Captain Jack isn’t allowed in there anyway. How can you dislike rats?”

“I don’t know! They just sort of..freak me out. Or not all of them, just their feet. I don’t like their little man hands.”

Martin throws his arms in the air, proclaiming, “Their little man hands are one of their best qualities! Look, Jon, are you genuinely afraid of them, or just slightly discomfited?”

“I would say mediumly discomfited. This isn’t like spiders.”

“Cool. ‘Cause in that case, we’re getting the light tan one and the solid white one, their names shall be Peaches and Cream, and you will love them as much as you love our dog and cat children.”

“That’s a rather bold claim.”

“It’s an accurate one. You’ll see.”

Within a week, Jon is transporting Peaches ‘n’ Cream in the pocket of his hoodie, and he can feel Martin’s smug aura from two rooms away. Damn him.

~*~

“Did you know snakes don’t have an amygdala?”

“Okay? You didn’t have to bring me to a reptile store to tell me that.”

“I didn’t bring you to a reptile store to tell you that. I brought you to a reptile store because I want to hold a cornsnake.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but the fondness in his voice somewhat undercuts it. “Of course you do.”

Martin makes a scaly acquaintance in less than two minutes, and as the snake coils around his fingers, he continues, “Anyway, if they don’t have amygladas, do they feel fear in a way similar to us, or is it only a recognition of threats and instinctual response?”

“Martin, my love, I have no idea. Is this going somewhere? It’s fine if not, I’m just checking in.”

“Yes. Because if they don’t feel fear, I’m getting this snake and naming her Georgie.”

That makes Jon let out a sharp bark of laugh, and, for a moment, he’s able to reminisce without any pain. “You know, I think she’d actually love that? She also had a proclivity for all creatures great and small. And a terrible sense of humor.”

“Wow, you really have a type, huh. Also hey! My sense of humor is fantastic! It always makes my husband laugh, and he has very exacting standards.”

“Liar. Your husband finds joy with you at the slightest provocation, no good sense of humor needed.”

“Hmm. He is a bit of a softie, isn’t he? Which is why he’ll let me get this snake.”

“He most certainly will not.”

“But….look at her….”

“It’s not a matter of how cute she is, dear. It’s a matter of you made us get pet rats less than a month ago, there’s absolutely no way you’re going to be able to feed mice to a snake.”

Martin looks at the cornsnake, looks at Jon, looks back, and his shoulders slump. With a wince, he asks, “Maybe frozen mice won’t be too bad?”

“What if she’s picky?”

“...There are species of snake that only eat bugs.”

“Cornsnakes aren’t one of them.”

Waving over an assistant, Martin puts the cornsnake back with a defeated, “Fine. When you’re right, you’re right.”

Jon doesn’t particularly feel like he’s won an argument. In fact, he’s a bit disappointed himself, he always liked snakes. Big fan of reptiles in general, actually, which is probably what drives him to say, “Lizards don’t usually eat mice.”

That’s how they walk out of the store with three leopard geckos.

~*~

Jon’s helping Martin set up the gecko tank in what can now be affectionately called a zoo when all of the sudden it strikes him. Some of the animals in their home right now have life spans of 10-20 years, and never once had the necessary longevity of care come up as a reason to protest against them. Jon had felt so at ease with the concept of a future that he hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t been steeling himself for the other shoe to drop. He’s stopped having bated breath every time something good happens, instead taking reassurance in a sense of permanence that he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel again. Martin must hear his breath hitch, because he immediately stops what he’s doing to take Jon’s hand into his own. “Something wrong, love?”

Jon shakes his head. “No, nothing. I suppose I’m realizing that we have time, don’t we?”

Martin must know exactly what he means, the weight behind the words, because he brings Jon’s hand to his lips and says, “Yes. Yes, we really, really do.”

[angstyclowns]

Hello! I'm sorry this might be a bit long, I was wondering if you can write something ABO/angsty, something like Fem! Omega reader finding out their Pro Hero!Alpha will scent items for random fans for their "image" (maybe forced by agency?) and it starts a fight where he basically says "I wish we didn't Bond at such a young age" even tho he doesn't mean it he's just so upset🥺maybe for Bakugo, Todoroki and/or Hawks? They are my absolute weaknesses and I just know they would hurt the most!

I am now actively deciding to ignore canon. Fuck canon. 

Me, writing this: Lmao imagine if Touya kicked Shouto’s ass for this. 

Also me: Oh WAIT- 

I did not write the resolution to these fights but whatchya gonna do.

Alpha! Katsuki Bakugou, Shouto Todoroki and Keigo Takami x Omega! Reader

Katsuki Bakugo

You weren’t sure where this sore-spot came from, or how it came to be so sore. You just knew it was. At this point it was an open gaping wound the size of Texas that hurt. Your omega was hurting throughout the day more often than not now. Whining and whimpering as she saw her alpha scent any and everything tossed his way.  It hurt. And it hurt a lot. You guys had bonded in your third year at high school, and perhaps that was a mistake. You both were young and didn’t know what you were doing. Impulsive.

“Katsuki, I understand it helps your public rep-”

“Than that should be it. End of fucking discussion.” Your alpha hissed, dropping his duffel bad on the ground, before turning to look at you. “You have the fucking mark, I come home to your ass everyday, There isn’t a valid issue.” 

You winced, feeling any sort of validation you had given yourself dripping away. It was like a heavy stone was lodged in your stomach as you swallowed tightly, feeling tears begin to swell in your eyes. “I- I’m just saying alpha-”

“Oh my fucking god. If I had known you were going to be this fucking whiny I would never have marked you!” He snapped, snarling as you recoiled.  The tears you were originally holding at bay now flowed freely, dripping down your chin and onto the floor below you.  

You felt your heart constrict in absolute agony as your stomach dropped, your omega reeling back before snarling. She seemed to recover faster than you, demanding you do something, anything back, but you couldn’t. You were frozen, with fear? Heartbreak? You didn’t know. You just felt the absolute agony spread throughout your chest.  

“Omega- I- I didn’t-” Katsuki tried to recover, stepping towards you only to watch you turn and flee, presumably to your nest. 

He never meant to say that, you were never a mistake to him. He loved you with his entire heart. But maybe, just maybe...

He lost the love you once returned.

Shoto Todoroki

Shouto didn’t often get upset. Or angry. Or even the slightest bit irritated when it came to you.  He was patient with you just as you were with him. 

He thanked every heavenly body every morning when he woke up next to you. Your tired laughter, soft morning dazed eyes, or messy bedhead. He loved you and every bit of you. Why couldn’t you see that? 

“It’s not a big deal. My manager said it would boost my ratings.”  

“Shouto, your scenting random omega’s things! Of course, it’s a big deal.” You whimpered, throwing your hands out by your side to emphasize your point. 

He still didn’t see why you were getting so upset over this, truly he didn’t. It was a smell. It would fade away. You had the bite. It would last far longer and he made sure it never so much as faded in shade.  He just didn’t get it. His alpha was trying to bark and growl at him but it wasn’t helpful.  In fact, he’s been growling since his manager told him to start this whole thing. 

Tying up his boots, Shouto rolled his eyes. “Maybe this wouldn’t be such a big deal if we had waited to bond. Wait till you were a little more mature.” 

“Me? Do you not see how messed up this is, Shouto?” You began crying, sending his heart to his throat.  He knew his time was ticking before he had to go to work, but he could also feel the bond between you two thinning, almost threatening to snap completely.  

He knew he had a choice to make. His job or his omega. 

When you turn to disappear, his throat tightened when the choice became all the more real. 

Keigo Takami

“Keigo- This- This isn’t right!” 

“You don’t have a monopoly on me!” 

You both had been screaming for hours at this point, your throats raw with strain and pain. Tears had long since run their course down both of your faces, making your cheeks red and eyes puffy. His wings were out and fluffed but neither of you were backing down. 

“What would you do if I started scenting random things for other alphas, huh?” You hissed, wiping your tears as you stood your ground. Too many things in Keigo’s hero career had gone by, too many things you let slide that you knew weren’t good for him or you. Or your relationship. 

Not this. Not this time. You were holding your ground. 

“That’s different!” He growled, trying to calm himself as his feathers mindlessly sharpened. 

“How?!” 

“I’m a hero! Your a regular civilian! Can’t you see that I’m more important than you? Maybe we shouldn’t have bonded so you could see how important I am. I’m needed!”  

You grit your teeth, shutting your eyes as more tears streamed from your eyes. Keigo paused as well, his own tears falling onto the floor. “Wait- Y/N-” 

“No. Your so important, right? Then go. You have work. Have fun.” You sneered, turning on your heel and walking away, leaving Keigo to stand in the doorway, wings falling limp behind him. 

He was nothing without you, and maybe he just lost what held any importance to him.

Guys I have my christmas present asleep on my lap. It’s a cat. Her name is Lynx. 

[kanohivolitakk]

Have you done Krekka for the ask game? I know you're a huge Nidhiki fan, curious if you have any thoughts on his partner?

I haven't gotten Krekka yet actually. So far I only done Toa Ignika and Axonn for the Bionicle ask game (which Im still accepting). That being said great choice. Krekka isn't necessarily a big favorite of mine (partially because I'm not that fond of the "dumb brute" archetype barring a few exceptions), but I have to admit I do have a soft spot for the big guy. Krekka is a relatively simple character when it comes to characterization/backstory/role in the story (especially when compared to Nidhiki), but that doesn't mean I don't have any "deeper" thoughts regarding him or that there isnt stuff worth discussing.

Anyways some thoughts/headcanons/general musings:

This is a weird thing to start with but... Krekka is kinda adorable for me. I think its kinda this ...overgrown puppy (bulldog??) vibe due to his loyalty and dumbness. I admit BOADH is a big reason for me feeling this way since it gave him a few moments that made me go "AWWW he's so cute". Just..love his loyalty so much.

His undying loyalty makes him stand out for me across the other dark hunters. While many dark hunters we ha e are opportunistic and schemy, Krekka is just...very loyal. Maybe too much so. But I love that he is loyal. Feels refreshing tbh.

And now I cant help but feel that TSO is just "guys stupid but at least he wont double cross me and is easy to keep in check" when it comes to him.

Not to go woobifying villains but I genuinely dont think the guys that bad. Hes just really stupid, overly loyal and doing his job. Its kinda like w Lariska being a decent person despite being a knife happy murder girl although to a much lesser extent since guys a literalminded fool and also just smashy boy.

I do like his backstory of being a former guard who lost his job and started wreck havoc until one day a dark hunter found and hired him. It isnt anything too complex but it works well for his character and explains why he is so loyal to Dark Hunters. It also helps bringing a bit more light to his homeland and I love when we get more info of places through character backstories, makes the world feel more real that way.

Also can Gorast please stop hurting charaxters I like. This is the reason shes my least favorite character in the 2001-2008 storyline that isnt just a glorified extra or a plot device.

When it comes to Krekka, one scene I always think of when I think of him is in BOADH where he temporarily forgot to fly and Nidhiki was just "WAIT A MOMENT LARISKA TOLD ME YOU CAN FLY????" and Krekka just goes "whoops I forgot". That was adorable honestly. You dumb idiot, forgot you could fly.

Also, I know he's kinda "the idiot character", and while I am NOT saying he isn't, I do think its worth pointing out that he's basically literal minded. In BOADH (again) when Nidhiki tried to do that training scenario Krekka basically was like "wait I’m here, there’s nothing there why should I move there". This is

Another thing I really like about Krekka is that how, despite being an absolute idiot and tool, he still is willing to sometimes not take Nidhikis bullshit, see preventing him from getting the Zamor launchers (geez BOADH did a lot for this guys characterization lmao)

I sometimes call him truck boy because his name is one letter off my languages word for truck.

Also unless canon/word of Greg says otherwise I don't think every member of his species is as stupid as him. Like possibly on similar level but still.

It is made pretty clear that Nidhiki couldn't stand Krekka at all, but I do genuinely wonder how Krekka feels about Nidhiki. Based on the little we have I'd say he liked him to some extent or at the very least, didn't hate him to the same degree. I also have to wonder how aware he was about Nidhikis haterd towards him.

I also love the idea that when Nidhiki was mutated, Krekka just...wasnt afraid of him at slightest, no fear in this dumb boy. (I also like the idea he didnt recognize him at first and Nidhiki just, had to explain to his thick skull who he was. It took a while but eventually he got it.)

On a related note, I find it interesting how the LOMN website describes him working with Nidhiki because guy knows where to get the good jobs or something rather than being his goverment (read TSO) assigned partner The way the twos relationship were described makes it feel that by this point the staff hadnt figured out what they wanted to do with Dark Hunters , or if it even was an organization or just these two tools.

Its really interesting for me how Krekkas characterization not only varies between the books/comics (where hes more intimidating and him being a simpleton isnt as pronounced) and the movie (where hes more of a dumbass) but also how his characterization evolved. Like, his loyalty wasn't that pronounced trait but now I feel its just as important part of him as him being a dumbass (which is to say, very interesting)

I remember how the aftoermentoined Metru Nui movie website described that Krekka hated toa to the point wouldve hunted them for free if Nidhiki didnt make sure the two would get paid. I feel this is somewhat early installment weirdness as it isnt mentioned anywhere else but at the same time Krekka being willing to fight without payment sounds 1000% in character if you ask me

Something I have been confused over: when exactly was Krekka recruited to the dark hunters??? The timeline is very vague about this and I wish we knew.

It's been AGES since I watched my home countrys dub of LOMN but what I recall I really liked Krekka's voice in that dub. He sounded more badass and I loved it, the VA had a pretty unique sound. Sadly dont think there is any clips of the LOMN dub, which is a shame. UPDATE: I rewatched the dub and I love the voice itself but felt the voice direction made him sound kinda inconsistent

This is more a "Nidhiki and Krekka related thought" rather than just Krekka related but one thing I really like about Krekka and Nidhiki is that how they are like a more serious and competent take of "those two evil henchmen with contrasting personalities" trope. Often these types of villains are rather goofy, but these two could be rather dangerous as well and I really like that. I also like their dynamic of just doing Nidhiki being done with Krekkas bullshit. One of the main reasons I wish LOMN was a miniseries rather than a movie is because I really wanted more screentime with the two.

On a related note can I JUST SAY I LOVE the way the two compliment/pararell each other. From design (Krekka being bulky mostly blue colored, Nidhiki being slender and monstrous, mostly green colored) to personality (Krekka being foolish and simpleminded but loyal Nidhiki being cunning and ambitious but treacherous) to powersets (Krekka being strong physical attacker, Nidhiki being weaker(??) but faster and more special attacker).Heck, even their backstories have similarities as they both lost their orginal purpose in one way or another and didnt have anywhere to go but Dark Hunters (the main difference being that Nidhiki inflicted his fate upon himself by betraying the toa while Krekka didnt really do anything iirc)

Now for something crossovery, Krekkas and Nidhikis dynamic reminds me a lot of Kronk and Yzma from Emperors New Groove. Yes I have drawn a parody of the "pull the lever kronk" meme, yes I intend to make more screencap redraws. They also remind me a lot of Mummymon and Archenemon from Digimon 02, partially due to the dynamic (smug spider that tries to be cunning and intimidating but gets outclassed by most other villains in that + loyal blue dumb boy) partially due to their ultimate fate being rather similar.

I don't know how familiar you are with the franchise, but Krekka reminds me a fair bit of Gamel, one of the four villain generals in Kamen Rider OOOs, mainly because "the dumb brute major villain that's kinda cuteish and loyal a f while everyone else is an asshole".

I remember reading a p good oneshot fic that was just him accidentally killing a civilian when all he wanted was a hug and...honestly that is p much what I imagine him being like. Guy may be strong, reckless and a fool but like I said I dont think hes all that bad and just a puppy. An overgrown, moronic puppy but a puppy nontheless

For AUs, I remember I have thought once of "What if Krekka survived but Nidhiki died" and just ...guy wouldve been very lost and confused and unsure what to do tbh. He would most likely returned to Dark Hunters but Mata Nui knows how say TSO wouldve felt about that. Its not too complex au yet but I am thinking of developing it further one day.

Thank you for asking.

Sorry this took longer than expected. I had too many thoughts and half of them were deleted so. I hope its worth the wait tho. I do have a lot of Krekka thoughts and tbh wasnt sure if I was even able to get them all here.

(I am still doing the ask game so if anyone wants to send me a bonkle I will try to give thoughts, meta and headcanons on them)

[normal-thoughts-official]

Ppl be like "Magnus can't have flaws??! How dare you say nice things about him?!??" sometimes. All of Magnus' characteristics that we use to describe him are Canon but ppl act like we're making his personality up??? Saw someone tag a post abt ppl only making up personalities for guys nd not girls with his name as if he wasn't a main and didn't have his own story+background. It was made worse as they tagged the same post with damon Salvatore nd now I feel sick.

Book!magnus isn't flawed he's a straight up asshole. Ppl like to say he's better than show!magnus because of his dick ways and I'm just like: ????. Show!Magnus does have flaws idiots just lack the critical thinking to find them!

idk who damon salvatore is (i mean im vaguely aware hes from that vampire diaries thing but i know nothing beyond that) but otherwise i agree with u (also, ppl got a lot of nerve putting a coc in a list like that like being a moc means being treated even slightly the same way as a white man lmao. i mean yeah sure hes still got male privilege but are you serious? fandom treating a coc like he deserves nuance and well thought out headcanons and love and attention? wish i lived in that world)

what rlly drives me crazy about this whole "magnus is allowed to have flaws" thing is that like, yeah, he sure is! especially because poc are never allowed to be even the slightest bit human, much less flawed, without people getting up in arms about it. magnus' got plenty of flaws! he's stubborn, he's self sacrificial, he hides his feelings from others, he pushes ppl away when they get too close to his vulnerabilities, he has a tendency to simply Decide what other ppl want or need (like with alec and that whole moving to idris thing), he is impulsive, and a lot of other shit

and it's exactly those flaws that draw me to him, honestly! like i talk about how kind and caring he is all the time, and that is true, but i know that this is, at least partially, him feeling like he needs to be useful to be loved, and erasing himself/defining himself by what he can do for others, which is the same trait that leads him to act in all these ways i mentioned above. it's why i relate to him! it's why i love him! magnus isn't perfect, he is good, a good person, and there's a difference

which is the point i have been wanting to make when i started writing this answer because like. what drives me crazy the most is how those dark magnus stans or whatever love to say that they write him as an evil person who literally enjoys hurting others (like im sorry but have you watched the show?) because he's "allowed to have flaws". usually the same ppl who keep being like "i write my relationships realistically!" and when u check out their fics, it's like, literally abuse. like straight up physical violence and manipulation and gaslighting. and. that's not being realistic, girl! that's normalizing abuse

and it's one thing if this is a dark fic and its supposed to be bad or whatever and u just want to explore that, god knows i write about abuse all the damn time. its another to be like "actually if ppl arent like that its not realistic and ur writing them as perfect uwu beans and u have no nuance and are a bad writer". cuz honestly, if u think "having flaws" is being straight up abusive, and that it's "unrealistic" otherwise, then that tells me all i need to know about how u live ur relationships. if u think its literally impossible to exist in the real world without abusing others then i dont want to have shit to do with u, buddy

(and im not even saying that from just a logical standpoint but also from experience because ive had exes and ex friends who used this whole "actually humans are naturally selfish and dont care about others and enjoy hurting others it's human nature" rethoric [and the whole "realistic" thing is really just that except applied to fiction] and surprise! they were all abusive! either to me or other ppl i knew, usually both)

and it's not unrealistic to be kind and care about others! on the contrary, it's a very normal and natural human trait. so miss me with that "either ur character literally enjoys torturing other ppl or he's being written as perfect" shit. which of course gains particularly strong tones when ppl r writing coc, esp moc. like no one insists that if alec doesn't feel literal pleasure hurting others then that's unrealistic and ppl r making his personality up and treating him like he's perfect. i wonder why 🙄

like the bar for "being written realistically" for white ppl is having flaws, for poc it's being straight up cruel

miss me with that shit! magnus is kind, he is selfless, he is caring, he is willing to do anything to help others, he is loving beyond anything else even after all his trauma! and yes, he is still flawed and realistic, and no, he is not an innocent baby. if he were i wouldn't be into it because i don't want a character who's kind because he doesn't know better, i want a character who's kind because they choose to. nothing could possibly be more boring to me than a character who's nice and unaware that other ppl might be assholes, i want characters who know exactly how terrible other people can be, who have experienced it firsthand, but who are still kind because that's who they are and what they believe in. and that's magnus! he knows perfectly well how full of horrors the world is, how sometimes there is no right choice, how sometimes u need to make sacrifices, how some people are really selfish and cruel and he's even been used by those specifically because he's too kind of selfless. he just chooses to still be kind and selfless anyway

if you could never, that's not my problem, or his writing's lol

[sternenteile]

★ @fiery-ambitions​ asked:  // Can I ask a weird question?, in your opinion, What's the difference between was Geno is and a Luma? Geno is a Star Spirit, and Lumas are little squishy star beings, Are they both the same species or different species of celestial beings? Obviously since Nintendo directly aknowledges Lumas a lot more than whatever Geno is, I feel like Lumas have more lore (at least, lore that Nintendo still plays with an aknowledges as canon today). Does Geno consider Lumas the same as himself or different?

that’s a very good question, actually!  it’s one that i rarely, if ever, get asked, even though it is very noteworthy. let’s first look at what nintendo has given us in canon, and i’ll give my two cents for my interpretation:

for star spirits, we see them appear in smrpg (only geno) and paper mario 64 (the seven star spirits, twink, and other npc star spirits). there’s also technically mario party 5 where the seven spirits play a role in the party, guarding the central hub of the game, the dream depot! what we know is as thus: paper mario 64 was meant to be the direct sequel to super mario rpg, going as far as being named ‘super mario rpg 2′ in development. the reason the name was changed was due to nintendo’s huge falling-out with square. otherwise, it’s very clearly meant to be a direct sequel. hell, in the japanese version, shooting star summit is actually star hill from its prequel and is referred to as such.

the star spirits are beings in charge of everyone’s good wishes. there are at least two segments of their wish-granting system that we know of: the star road and the star haven. star road is referred to as a place where wishes are granted. as for star haven, home of the star sanctuary, the star rod rests there. without the star rod, wishes can’t be granted. star road is much the same way, where wishes are effectively halted whilst it’s out of order. it’s not stated, but implied that they’re cogs to a bigger wish-granting system, basically.

now, are these star spirits in paper mario and the ones referenced in smrpg via geno the same ones? i’d say they clearly are. after all, this game was meant to be its direct sequel, and it references super mario rpg’s wish system through star hill’s presence. along with that, the star spirits recognize who mario is right away. before then, geno had joined mario’s adventure, and he didn’t recognize mario from jump. the star spirits probably learned more of mario and understood his defining qualities thanks to geno. it’s no wonder they were able to pick him out right away, even though geno didn’t recognize him, but had ‘heard of him’ alongside his people. that’s more conjecture based on canon rather than canon itself, though, so i’ll stop there.

there is one last fact about star spirits to keep in mind, as well. they are born as star kids in starborn valley on ‘earth’ (or mario’s planet, whichever you choose to address it as). they’re then raised by merle and a clan of ninji. once they come of age, they ascend to star haven and work to grant wishes with the others. twink is an example of a star kid, and in pm64, we see full-grown star spirits in star haven itself —— not just the head seven. they all just look... the same lmao. they’re much like geno appears in smrpg, but with their features being more defined (as in, they now have faces! and!! that’s about all that’s new!).

now, what are lumas? lumas are stated to be baby stars. their function is very different from star spirits, though! they don’t grant wishes at all. they aren’t associated with them in the slightest. they represent the more physical side of stars rather than the metaphysical, whimsical kind the star spirits do. lumas transform into full-grown stars, comets, planets, planetoids, and even entire galaxies. their role is far more subdued, yet all the more important —— just in a different way.

so the answer is that, canonically, they are not the same. this applies to my interpretation, too! however, the lore for my geno and his people runs a bit deeper. essentially, starborn valley star kids are born of fallen, insignificant meteorites filled with star power onto shiver mountain. within them will come anywhere from one to even ten little star kids! more often than not, it’s only one, so multiples are exceptions rather than the rule. lumas are born of raw star power that isn’t encased in a meteorite, therefore born into the cosmos rather than being planet-borne. the lumas are part of a natural process, whereas star spirits are born under a set of circumstances generally regulated by the seven elder spirits. they’re both stars, but they are stars born under different rules.

now, does geno consider himself to be like a luma? no. he’s been taught all of his life that he isn’t like them, and that rosalina is not his mother. rather, he has no parents, the closest thing to family being his fellow kin. of course, this star spirit is a rebellious sort, so goodness knows that doesn’t apply to geno because he says so, screw the space police. he treats rosalina like his mother and the lumas like his little siblings (sans polari, who is more of an elder brother instead). the grand star spirits aren’t... too keen on that at all lol, but he’s at a point where he couldn’t care less anymore.

long story short, lumas and star spirits are very different, but geno does what he wants. watch him bust a move on the comet observatory with his light-up skechers shoes

[brw]

when did this fandom collectively decided to hate on hank (mccoy) and reed richards? i feel like a lot of people who hate on reed do simply out of pack/follow mentality bc at this point the xfandom decided that he is a mutantphobe sentinel-maker and a bad husband to sue but new people just accept it as the ultimate truth.

RIGHT??? VERY GLAD YOU SAID IT.

like. idk where they're getting this idea that reed is mutantphobic! like yeah he supported the superhero registration act but talk to ANY fantastic four fan and they'll tell you that was out of character. his literal back story for his powers is him going "no <3" to the government and stealing back his rocket like??? why is he suddenly NOW sucking government cock it makes no sense for him??? and within ff stories he's almost always been supportive of mutants! the fantastic four were SUPER close to the x-men. jean looked up to sue and reed especially. jean and johnny almost dated. it's only in zdarsky's x-men/ff run (which again, ask ANY fantastic four fan and they'll tell you that was not flattering for the characters in the SLIGHTEST. like events like that are not the best way to get introduced to a character! you can't make hard opinions on a character you've read 4 issues of lmao please for the love of god actually talk to people) where they decided to make reed and the rest mutantphobic. and i HATE that that was the introduction most x-men fans had to reed and sue. usually they're a lot better lmao i can assure you all that.

AND HANK. like i... i get the hate he gets! and honestly i am SO pissed he is now the x-writer's genius of choice to make fuck ups. like i hoped with sinister in krakoa (which makes no sense bc he is a mutate but that's a WHOLE different rant) hank could catch a gotdamn break listen to some oingo boingo make some fun little machines go on a date with his avengers bf but nope! they made him a fascist! AGAIN!!!! LIKE JFC HASN'T HE SUFFERED ENOUGH???????? FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. like as much as x-fans like to dunk on the avengers (which imo is bullshit tbh like. events never make characters look flattering you can't read avx and decide that that is the most canon version of the characters that has ever been lmao) hank in my humble opinion was probably at his best there. smart, but not the go-too smart guy. he was shown to like fun and go on dates and go to parties but also still was very well-read and intelligent which especially recently x-writers haven't seemed to be able to balance. like ok. i admit i love hank's feline design its the one i use whenever i write him BUT. the personality change? vile. i mean it was realistic at first but its been drawn out wayy too much and i am just so tired. hank has always had a little bit of mad scientist in him but he was never a fucking fascist lmao. it doesn't make sense! anyway. yeah. hank is a good character and honestly deserved better treatment from fans. it's not his fault none of the recent writers like him 😔

now here i get to answer your question with my humble thoughts! i think both of them are hated on so much, reed especially, is because they're autistic coded. again, reed especially, who is mostly shown as low-empathy, which non-FF fans repeatedly like to make fun of and dehumanise him for. like tbh the AMOUNT of people who say "oh he's abusive because he doesn't love sue he loves science" like bro i. i'm begging you read a comic. or "he's abusive for not wanting franklin to go to krakoa" like bro the island is a cult. they have orgies. both apocalypse and sinister, both of which who believe in eugenics and "survival of the fittest" theory, one of which who has notably manipulated people into sleeping with each other to create the most powerful mutant possible to the point of creating a clone, are both given government seats. like can you NOT see what's wrong with that??? not to mention like. one of the first of franklin's powers to manifest was precognition. precogs aren't allowed on krakoa like its straight up not safe for franklin. like i agree he shouldn't have microchipped him w/o concent but again. talk to an ff fan please...

anyway yeah. a lot of it is refusing to actually read the material and deciding that after having read like 3 events/crossovers that you know everything about a character that's been around for 60 odd years. honestly like. have a lot of x-mutuals who i love to death so this isn't directed at them but tbh the x-comic fandom here is the most toxic out of all the comic fandoms here. like for the love of god stop acting like you know everything about a character n their opinions after reading one event. like if you can understand bad writing when it comes to your fave... maybe listen to people who are fans of that team or character when they tell you its ooc??? just a thought.

anyway reed richards and hank mccoy good they deserve SO much better then what they get. it's not cool to hate on autistic coded characters n you just make autistic people feel alienated and awkward. and listen to people who actually read the comics on the ppl ur insulting before you make any anti posts tbh like it is SO annoying

[quiet-onset]

In The Wind

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader

TW: alcohol consumption, implied sexy times, a pinch of fluff and a fuck ton of angst

Word Count: 10.2k (this is the longest single fic I’ve ever written by like 4-5k words, i'm never doing this again lmao)

A/N: Broke = cacw discourse, Woke = using cacw canon to write angsty fics at 3 am. this is only kind of edited so it is what it is lol. Enjoy!

You weren’t sure if you regretted meeting him.

You didn’t know how you felt anymore. You knew you thought of him everyday. You knew that you longed to feel the warmth and heaviness of his body against yours. You also knew that you were angry, so damn angry for making you feel these things. For making you miss him, want him.

But did you regret him? You weren’t sure. 

The first time you met shouldn’t have happened. Steve knew that. He should’ve been more careful. Checked more security cameras, spied a little better. But espionage was always Natasha’s expertise, and, for now, he was running it solo. So when he ran from the FBI in Hell’s Kitchen, he had no one to blame but himself. 

He had been jumping from roof to roof, dreading the sound of the approaching helicopter. He knew if they got that spotlight on him, it’d be over. So, instead of jumping to the next roof, he dropped onto the fire escape, traveling down until he found an open window. 

He climbed inside and pressed himself to the adjacent wall, heart pounding against his ribcage. He listened as the helicopter continued on, searching for him with no success. Just as he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the cock of a gun. 

When he turned his head, there you stood, curls tied up with a blue silk scarf, shorts and a T-shirt two sizes too big, with a shotgun aimed and ready to fire. “Get out of my house.”

Steve took a step toward you, watching as you steadied your hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m the one with the gun here, dude. So, unless you want a chest full of buckshot, get—“

Finally, you saw him clearly. His hair was a tad longer and he had the slightest bit of stubble, but he was still recognizably Steve Rogers. After all, the news had his and his friends mugshots plastered on every channel. You barely managed to part your lips for a gasp when Steve heard the thunder of footsteps come down the hall outside your door.

“Look,” He said, “I’m sorry, I just needed—“

Three solid bangs on your front door. “FBI, open up!”

You lowered the gun as you looked back at Steve. It was clear that he was trying and failing to come up with a new route of escape. Three more bangs, and you sighed. “One second!” You called.

You handed him the gun and quickly guided him to your bedroom. “Get under the bed and wait.”

He followed your instructions while you grabbed your robe and scurried to the door. You swung the door open as you brushed a stray curl away from your face. “Can I help you?”

Two men pushed past you and into your apartment as the first one spoke. “We need to inspect your apartment.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“Are you hiding something?” He returned.

“Asking for a warrant isn’t an admission of guilt, agent.” You raised a brow. “Besides, what would the FBI be looking for here?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He eyed your living room suspiciously before continuing down the hall, leaving you to follow close behind. 

“Captain America?” You snorted. “What would he be doing in some random woman’s apartment in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You tell me.”

He walked into your bedroom, and your heartbeat sped up. You had no idea why you were putting yourself at risk for a stranger, but somehow, it felt right. Like you were doing what you were meant to be doing in that moment.

“Agent, I am not hiding Captain America in my fucking bedroom. Alright? I was getting ready for bed, actually, when you banged on my door like I was the one being arrested.”

He walked up to you, invading your space. He looked down at you, tried to make you feel small. It was a popular tactic, one you were used to. You watched as the other two agents came in and began to search. “We have orders to search every apartment. If you don’t want to cooperate, we can arrest you, too. Ma’am.” 

“This might be news to you, but I have rights, same as you. You need a warrant to search my house unless I’m an immediate danger to the public.” You told him. “However, considering you’ve already searched my entire home, I suggest you leave now while I’m still thinking about not suing you.”

“Suing us?” He chuckled.

“I have some lawyer friends, same ones that put Wilson Fisk in jail. If they can get a life sentence for a man like Fisk, imagine what they could do with this story. Agent.”

You watched as they all stopped, including the agent who was just about to bend over to look under the bed. The agent’s brow twitched as he stepped back and gave you an indignant look. “That’s what I thought.” You said. “Feel free to come back with a warrant.”

Moments later, your front door was locked, and you went back to your room where Steve sat on your bed. You almost winced when you saw him in the light. His right eye was beginning to swell, his lip was split, and his leg looked like he needed stitches. He placed the shotgun beside him. “Do you really know the lawyers who took down Wilson Fisk?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckled and stood on his feet. You knew he was trying not to put too much pressure on his leg, but his scrunched brow told you he was failing. When he managed to steady himself, he saw the shine of concern in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Super soldier healing. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you.”

“You’ve done enough for me already.” He told you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Easy?”

“I’m an Avenger, but I’m not blind.” He said sincerely. “America’s fucked up, and anyone who’s not white or rich gets the short end of the stick.”

You paused, surprised that he’d explained himself so outright. He seemed unapologetic about his statement, eyes only wavering when the pain became too much. A sigh with the faintest remnants of a smile passed through your lips. You walked a few steps over to your dresser and pulled open your drawer. Out of it, you pulled a bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. “I’m already abetting a fugitive, Rogers. Might as well add aiding to the crime. Sit down. I’ll get some ice for your eye.”

Steve usually didn’t take well to orders. But you, you made something in him stir, if only for a moment. Some part of him that longed for someone else to take over. To make him forget about being an alleged criminal, about the friends that he’d lost. The part of himself that he’d lost. 

So he sat down.

When you came back, you began tending to his wounds. Your hands were delicate as you tried your best not to cause him any additional pain. He almost chuckled at your caution and grace. In some dark part of his mind, he knew the damage he could cause you. Yet, you were the one asking every other second if he was okay.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this.” He said.

“I didn’t have to not shoot you either, but here we are.” You answered, tilting your head. You handed him the bottle of whiskey as you got ready to stitch the wound in his thigh. “You might wanna drink some of that.”

He chuckled, “Alcohol doesn’t really do anything for my senses.”

“Right. Super soldier, I forgot. Guess you’ll have to brave it.” 

“Not the first time.” He let out a small hiss as you moved the fabric away from the cut.

Your eyes flickered up to him for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw, sharp and tense. “So you sneak into people’s houses to hide from the FBI often?”

“I was, um, handling some business in Hell’s Kitchen. Wasn’t paying attention, and they found me.”

“Wow. Steve Rogers outsmarted by the FBI.” You joked. He chuckled along with you as you finished stitching him up. You offered him the bottle once more. “It won’t get you drunk, but it’ll burn on the way down, and I have a feeling that’s what you really need.”

He looked taken aback for a moment. You imagined that not many people were so straightforward with him. He was called Captain for a reason, you supposed. Not many people told Steve what he needed to hear — that was why the Avengers was perfect for him. Nobody was afraid to tell Steve how it really was. But now, with him being a fugitive, lots of people were scared. Of him or of what he represented, he wasn’t sure.

But not you.

He took the bottle with a small smile.

“Well,” Steve spoke when the silence got a bit too loud for his liking. “I should be going. If that agent’s attitude was any indication, they’ll probably be back with a warrant. That’ll give you some time to get rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“My blood?” He chuckled.

You looked down at your hands and saw the faint tint of blood on them. You let out a short laugh and nodded, “Right.”

The way you looked at each other was far too comfortable for two strangers. Each set of eyes held a story. The ever-stretching line of inconceivable loss in his and the struggle to overcome social hardships in yours. Both your hearts were hardened in some ways, and you could both sense it. When it became too much, your gaze flickered to the ground for a quick moment. “Don’t pull those stitches, Captain. I won’t redo them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a weak salute. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The next afternoon, the FBI would return with a warrant and search your apartment as you watched the news. The headline?

Captain America in the wind once more.

---

“I’ll be fine.” You slurred to your friend. “I can get upstairs just fine.”

Your friend, Heather, shot you a disapproving gaze as you hiccuped, the alcohol in your body starting to slowly wear off. She unlocked the car door with a sigh. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not moving until you do.” She added. “And lock your door!”

“Alright!”

Although you stumbled up the stairs and eventually had to take your heels off, you made it safely to your apartment. The text you sent as you locked the door was incoherent, but you knew your friend would understand. You dropped your heels at the door and padded into your living room.

“Your window is broken.”

You gasped at the sudden deep voice that cut through the dark, only recognizing him when he turned on the lamp. There sat Steve Rogers once more. He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, noticing your glazed over eyes. You threw your phone at him for scaring you, which he caught easily. “You can’t just break into someone’s house and sit in the dark! That’s weird!”

“I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” He explained quickly. He stood, “Are you drunk?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re drunk in an apartment with a broken window. Anyone could break in. I did.”

“Yeah, which is still weird.” You hiccuped. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

He was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an answer. Not one that made any sense, at least. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he couldn’t forget you. Your eyes were burned into his mind, your bravery forever in his heart. He tried everything to forget you, but nothing worked. Whether it was attraction, infatuation, or some feeling that could only be expressed in another language, he didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t tell you that. Especially not while you were drunk. So he settled for, “Steve. Call me Steve.”

You paused, crossing your arms over your chest. “Alright. Steve.”

Steve felt a shiver travel down his spine. He would never admit he liked the way his name slipped past your lips. He watched you stumble over to the couch and helped you sit down. “Happy drunk or sad drunk?”

You snorted, “Both.”

“Wow, two for one.”

“I broke up with my cheating boyfriend.” You explained. “I’m happy to be rid of that asshole, but it still hurts, you know?”

Steve nodded, holding back a chuckle as you burped quietly. You groaned and threw your head back as you realized you would probably throw up soon. 

“He didn’t deserve you.” He told you.

You laughed bitterly, “I know.”

As if on cue, you stood and ran to the bathroom with Steve quick on your heels. He watched as you dropped to your knees over the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach inside. You pulled a few stray curls out of your face and held them back, praying you hadn’t gotten any vomit in your hair. You felt Steve’s presence behind you and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should… you should just go.”

But of course, Steve was never good at taking orders.

He marched up to your sink and found a few bobby pins before opening up your medicine cabinet. He found some painkillers for later and took them out for you. He quietly walked up behind you and softly cupped your hands with his own. You barely had the chance to protest before another wave of sickness washed over you.

“Let me help you.” Steve said gently. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew there wasn’t much you could do for yourself, and you couldn’t deny that you needed help. So you let go of your hair and allowed him to pin it back. His warm hands then fell to your shoulders as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and some crackers he’d found in your cabinet. He sat with you on the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet as you turned away from it. He offered the glass silently, and you drank it in a few gulps. You looked over at him as he worked on opening the crackers. “You know, you’re good at this.”

He chuckled, seeing that you were starting to sober up. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve taken care of.”

You took a cracker from the packet. “When was the first time?”

“You don’t have to humor me.”

“If I were humoring you, you’d know.” You scoffed playfully. “I want to know. At the very least, it’ll keep my mind off of the nausea.”

He shook his head with a short laugh as he took out a cracker for himself. “I was fifteen. My best friend Bucky told me he had a surprise, that I had to come over after school. I didn’t suspect anything until I saw the brown paper bag in his hands.”

“Wait, you’re, like, ninety. Isn’t this during Prohibition?”

“He always knew a guy who knew a guy.” Steve nodded with a smirk. “His parents were out of town, and his sisters only kept his secret because he let them taste it. I already had enough health problems back then, so I wasn’t really interested in getting drunk. But Bucky…”

“As drunk as me?”

“Oh no, much worse. Absolutely shit-faced.” A smile tugged at his lips as you laughed. He admired the way your glazed eyes lit up with happiness for those few mere moments. “I ended up in the bathroom with him all night.”

You smiled softly as you nibbled on another cracker. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Steve felt his chest tighten at the smile on your lips. His brain told him to stop whatever he was feeling. He had no business barging into your house, into your life. He had other things, bigger things to worry about. Yet, he sat here on the floor of your bathroom, worrying about whether you were going to vomit again or if you needed more water. It was stupid of him to let this feeling go so far, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you smiled like that.

He reached over to the sink and grabbed the painkillers, giving you two. “I’m gonna get you some more water. Keep eating those crackers.”

“Yes, sir, captain sir.” You gave him a weak salute. He saluted back with a playful chuckle before leaving to get more water, not sure if this behavior was your true self or the remaining alcohol.

When he returned, he found you clumsily taking off your makeup. “That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked, handing you the glass of water.

“No. Do you know how bad that is for your skin? I’m too pretty to damage my skin.” You chuckled before downing the pills.

Steve looked to the ground, making a quiet noise of agreement. He hadn’t expected you to stop drinking the water and ask him what he said. He was caught red-handed. “What?”

“What did you say?” You asked.

“It’s not important. I just…” He sighed. “I agreed with you. About you being pretty.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. You’d have recognized the slight shyness in his voice if you were fully sober. “I’m not blind.”

It got quiet after that. You couldn’t help the way your mind was racing alongside your heart. The space between you both was so small. All it would take a gust of wind, a slight nudge and the space would be filled. And for some reason, you longed to fill it. As your thoughts caught up with you, you remembered that you’d just met him. He didn’t even know your name. The longing you had made no sense. Not to mention, you were still a little drunk and nauseous. You couldn’t act before you considered the outcomes. “Y/N.”

“What?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“My name. It’s Y/N.” You stepped back and took a deep breath. “I just realized I never told you.”

“Right.” He mimicked your movements, putting a bit more distance between you. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, head to bed right now.”

Steve nodded once before giving you one last long look. He told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn’t give in to that insistent tugging in his heart. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to remember. You watched him as he walked back down the hallway, stopping just before he entered the living room.

“Fix your window, Y/N.” He called.

You smiled. “I will.”

“Someone could break in and sit in the dark.”

“I get it, Steve.”

And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone. 

---

A few months pass before you see him again. And you have to be honest with yourself, you spend every second thinking about him.

You weren’t sure what it was about him. Sure, he was Captain America, but that didn’t seem to matter when he came through your window. In your apartment, he’s just a man. He’s just Steve Rogers. Sure he was on the run from every conceivable government authority, but he was running from more than that. It was like he was running from himself, from everything that made him Captain America. And without fail, all the running somehow led back to you.

It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. At work, you’d see his smile in the reflection of your computer screen. When you were with your friends, you could hear Steve’s laughter as he recounted his childhood. Even on the few dates you’d been on, the only thing on your mind was Steve’s voice calling you pretty.

And that was the annoying part. You knew you were pretty. You knew your value and how much you were worth, but when he said it, it felt unreal. There were butterflies in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. It was strange having such a visceral reaction to a statement you already knew to be true, but it wasn’t the statement. It was the man making it.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

You were walking home from a friend’s when two men in ski masks stopped you. Guns locked and loaded, they shouted at you to give them your wallet and phone. Your hands were raised in hopes that they wouldn’t shoot, but they simply yelled louder.

“Okay, okay.” You started calmly. You moved your hands slowly to your purse, digging around the bottom in a frantic search. You flinched as they told you to hurry up. 

Suddenly, a man dropped down from a nearby fire escape. Steve.

As soon as he snatched the guns, Steve crushed the barrels with his bare hands. A fist flew at one guy’s face while you grabbed the pepper spray at the bottom of your purse and sprayed the other. 

You watched as Steve kept going with a fierce look in his eyes. It was unlike anything you’d expect from Captain America. No, this was sheer rage. You marched up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He only allowed it as the two men scurried away with blood dripping down their faces. 

“Steve, what the hell?” You dragged him into a nearby alley. “What are you doing out in broad daylight?”

He ignored your questions and placed two large hands on your cheeks, tilting your head this way and that as he checked you for injury. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Steve, stop it. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw those guys trying to rob you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you going to my house?” You asked. “Why do you keep coming to my house?”

And once again, Steve was speechless. He couldn’t explain the panic in his heart when he saw you being held at gunpoint. He couldn’t explain the blind rage he felt as his fists collided with their bodies. He wanted to believe he had  no idea why he kept coming back to see you, but he knew why. Despite his reputation, he was never great with his feelings. At least not these kinds. “Y/N, can we just.. Can we talk? Please?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Meet me at my place. And try not to make another scene. You’re a fugitive, Steve.”

He’d made it there before you, but was unable to get in. See, you’d taken his advice and fixed your window. So, he stood on the fire escape, hoping to God that no one would look and see him as he waited for you. When you got back, you rushed over and flipped the latch, pushing the window up with a squeak of the frame. “Again, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“You fixed your window.”

“Yeah, you told me to.” You stepped aside so he could slip in. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Y/N, they were robbing you. You don’t have to—“

“No, not that. I mean, also that, but I meant thanks for that night a few months ago.”

His head dropped as he let out a weak chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I remember waking up with the worst hangover. I also remember the night before.”

“Everything?”

You nodded. 

You could see the gears in his head begin to turn, giving you a moment to look over him. His beard was thick and full, and his hair was longer than before. Dressed in a black combat suit, you wondered where he just came from. He obviously had bigger fish to fry, so what kept him coming back to Hell’s Kitchen. 

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it on the table between you. 

A cell phone. Albeit a very old one, but a cell phone nonetheless. 

“I wanted to give you this.” He said, “For… emergencies.”

You stared at the phone, your brow furrowed, before looking back up at him. “Steve—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes were shut tight as he emptied his heart. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. No matter where I’m going or what mission I’m on, you’re always on my mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I understand if it freaks you out, but I needed to tell you.”

“Steve—“

“And even if you don’t feel the same, just keep the phone. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened and you needed to contact me but couldn’t.”

You paused as he took a deep breath, finally opening his eyes. You looked at him expectantly. “Are you done?”

“I think so.”

You silently picked up the flip phone, chuckling because it was just so Steve-like. You opened it and realized that his number was the only one programmed into the phone. You smiled softly as you raised an eyebrow, “Does it work?”

“I just—” Steve let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Yes, it works.”

Steve watched as you pressed a button and held the phone up to your ear. You looked up at the ceiling, clicking your tongue as it rang. With a grin on his lips, he dug his phone out of his other pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“I like you, too, dummy.”

---

Turns out, you changed the definition of emergencies only. 

It had been four or five months since you last saw Steve. He’d spent the night after you both confessed to the feelings that you’d been repressing since the day you met. You helped him peel off the black suit he wore and showered with him. You helped him scrub off the blood that had dried into his skin, and he massaged your shoulders, tight and tense from the stress of your own life. And later, you’d both gotten into some activities that made you both need another shower. 

But now, you were alone. Your place felt so empty without him. It was only one night, yet your whole life was changed. You were acutely aware of the sound his bare feet made against the hardwood floor. The warmth of his chest against your back as you slept in bed. The low timbre of his voice when he just wakes up. 

Plus, it was the day before his birthday.

You knew how stupid that sounded. Steve Rogers was a fugitive on an international scale. He had plans to be in a different state or country practically every other week — he hardly had time to celebrate about being a year older. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that he deserved it. He deserved to do something as mundane as celebrate his birthday. 

So, instead of using the burner for its intended purpose — emergencies — you called him. 

And received no answer. 

You sighed and snapped the phone shut. You held the phone against your lips as you thought through a plan. When you had it all figured out, you smiled, wondering if that was how Steve felt when he finally perfected a plan. You grabbed your purse and headed to the nearest grocery. 

You strolled through the decorations aisle with your cart, stopping as you saw an employee, a teenager, removing something from the display. As you got closer, you realized what it was and frowned.

Fourth of July balloons with Steve’s shield plastered on them.

The employee saw you eyeing them and smiled gently. “Got a call from the owner himself to remove them.”

“Crazy, right?”

“Not that much.” She shrugged. “I mean, he did break the law.”

“Yeah, to do the right thing.”

“How do we know he was right, though?”

You stared at a picture of Steve’s shield and saw all it represented. Hope, justice, bravery — you couldn’t explain how you knew. You just did. “He was.” You told the kid.

The kid watched you stare aimlessly at the balloons. She wasn’t sure why you were so invested, she could tell it meant a lot to you. She pulled two packets out of the box and handed them to you.

“They were taken out of circulation so security won’t pick it up.” She explained. “Just don’t let the manager see.”

You looked over at her, not even realizing that you’d zoned out. You smiled at her and took the balloons before slyly stuffing them in your purse. “Thank you.”

Your smile returned as you gathered all your other supplies before walking over to the bakery. The man behind the counter smiled as you approached. “Last minute Fourth of July cake?”

You chuckled, “No, not Independence Day. A birthday actually.”

“What would you like on it?”

“Do you, um, do you mind decorating it with Captain America’s shield? Or maybe just red, white, and blue in general?”

The baker’s smile widened. “You’re the first person to ask for that this year. I’m glad.” He began gathering the frosting he’d need. “I don’t believe anything they say about him. He’s a good man.”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. The best.”

Meanwhile, Steve was in Philadelphia, trying to get some intel into Tony’s future plans. He just got back to the quinjet when Natasha called his name from the pilot seat.

“You’re never leading the mission again.” Steve teased her, touching two fingers to his split bottom lip as he stood just to the side of her seat. 

“Afraid of getting a little banged up?” She chuckled.

“More like tired of it.” He replied. “Bucky and I have been taking all the beatings lately while you and Sam somehow always manage to come out unscathed.”

“You and Bucky should do better at your jobs then.”

Steve let out a little laugh as she lifted the jet into the sky and immediately turned on the cloaking mechanism. He braced himself above her head and looked out over the clouds. “So why did you call me?”

“‘Cause somebody called you.”

“What?”

“That mysterious burner you always carry around? It rang while you were in the field.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the flip phone, seeing the ‘Missed Call’ notification glaring back at him. He turned back to Natasha, “I need you to take me back to the city.”

Her brow furrowed as he began packing a duffel bag toward the back of the jet. “What, New York?”

“Anywhere is fine. I’ll get to where I need to be.”

“Steve, we’re supposed to be headed for Switzerland in a week—“

“Then, I have a week.”

“Tony and the feds will be on our asses soon if we don’t get out of the country.”

Steve turned to look at her and saw that she’d put the jet on autopilot. She was looking right back at him in that way that she always did. If there was anything Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was knowing when someone was lying, even by omission. But Steve was no victim of her skills. He was her best friend. And that worried look in his eyes? It scared her.

Steve sighed. “There’s someone on the other end of that phone. Someone I really care about. She’s the only one with that number and I told her to call me if there’s an emergency.”

Natasha shifted her weight onto her other leg, her hands on her hips. “Is she cute?”

“Natasha.” He smiled softly.

“Where can I drop you off?”

“Near Hell’s Kitchen.”

She turned on her heel and began punching coordinates into the navigation system. “I get to choose where we go after Switzerland.”

You arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, finally gathering everything you needed to pull off your plan. You smiled to yourself as you locked your front door and threw your keys onto the side table. 

Suddenly, when you turned the lights on, a man emerged from the hallway, and you let out a loud gasp. You dropped the bags you had been carrying, only calming when you realized that it was only Steve.

“Steve!”

You stepped over the bags and raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms tight around you, cradling the back of your head in his large palm. He couldn’t help but release a breath of relief as he felt the comfortable weight of your body against his. He pulled away from you and held your face in his hands, eyes searching for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”

“Steve, I’m fine. I promise. Why are you so worried?”

“You called me on the burner.”

Oops. You’d totally forgotten about that. You smiled sheepishly, “About that...“

“Y/N—“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for your explanation.

“I’m sorry! You were gone, and I missed you. Then, I remembered I had a way of contacting you.”

“It’s for emergencies only.” He scolded you.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I missed you a lot, and your birthday is coming up, and—“

“My birthday?”

You looked behind you at the bags you’d dropped on the ground. Steve followed your line of sight before spotting something that had fallen out. He stepped away from you to pick it up and inspected it carefully. His head dropped and hung between his shoulders, a quiet laugh spilling from his lips. “Captain America balloons?”

“And other non-Captain America stuff.” You added defensively. “Not the cake though. That’s got Cap all over it.”

“You got a cake?”

You gasped, “The cake!”

You ran to the bags and fished out the one carrying the small circular cake, frowning when you found it. The cake was still in one piece, but the frosting was ruined, mushed against the top of the container. “Shit! Ugh, none of this is going how I planned.”

You couldn’t see beyond the messed up cake, but Steve’s eyes had the softest look. “You had a plan?”

“I was going to have a little party. Blow up balloons, light some candles, have cake. And I was going to send you pictures so you knew I remembered and that I wished you here with me and,” You looked back up at him and saw the gentle look in his eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He smiled, “No reason. You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“I didn’t know what time zone you were in.”

He let out a laugh and slid his arms around your waist. He kissed you so gently, more so than he ever had before. There was no lust behind the kiss. No promise of anything more than his tongue sweeping across yours as he pulled you closer still. Nothing but care, adoration, and a little four letter word that neither of you dared to say. 

When you pulled away for air, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him as you wondered how he stumbled into your life. “What was that for?”

“For the party.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your curls. “C’mon. These balloons won’t blow themselves up.”

---

Since that last visit, Steve had made it a point to visit you more frequently. Every two months, at midnight on the dot, Steve was at your window with his duffel bag, a small smile on his face. It was working well for you both, and his variation in changing locations kept the feds and Tony off his trail. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

It was your birthday the next time you saw Steve, but it wasn’t exactly planned — at least not on your end. Bucky was flying the quinjet over the city, dropping Steve off so he could surprise you for your birthday. Then, Steve spotted a squadron of black vans. They didn’t seem to be following the jet, which was good, but they were following a route that Steve was all too familiar with.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“They’re going to Y/N’s place.”

“What? How did the feds figure that one out?”

Just then, an object shot across the sky above them. It didn’t detect the jet thanks to Vision’s modifications, but they could very clearly see who it was. Steve glared at the hot rod red and gold suit as it flew further away from them. “The feds didn’t.”

You were lounging in bed, enjoying your day off from work when you heard a knock on your window. Your brow scrunched as you wondered why Steve would be here. Sure, it was your birthday, but he was scheduled for a mission today. Then you realized, he must’ve been lying so he could surprise you for your birthday. With a smile on your lips, you slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, prepared to give Steve the biggest hug you could muster.

Then the smile dropped. Because it wasn’t Steve outside your window.

It was Tony Stark.

He was in a suit, in typical Tony Stark fashion, the Iron Man suit keeping itself suspended just behind the rails of your fire escape. He knocked on the glass once more with a slightly facetious smile on his face. You walked up to the window and unlocked it, pushing it up for him. “Was there a reason you couldn’t use the front door?” You asked.

“Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” When you stepped back, he swung one leg over the window sill, then the other, stepping in and giving the room a once over. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen you on television.”

“Does the camera add ten pounds?”

“It does something.”

“You flatter me.”

“I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, amusement tugging at the side of his lips as he picked up a picture that sat on your mantle. “You sure hold a lot of animosity for someone you’ve never met.”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t experienced worse.” You took the frame from him as you replied.

“Aren’t you wondering how I knew to come here?” He asked. “How I knew to knock on your window? How I knew you’d answer?”

You stood silent, glaring at him.

“Really? You’re gonna make me do the whole monologue thing?” He asked, only to be met with more silence. He huffed dramatically, “Fine. I’ve been trying to track him for a long time now, Y/N. I’ve tried the internet, tracking the quinjet, cell towers. Cell towers were a big one. But I also know Steve isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t risk calling anyone while on the run, especially not on the fancy new phones we have today.”

“Is this going somewhere?” You watched as he paced around the room, trying to keep your heart steady. You still had no idea where this was leading, but you were sure he was going to tell you. 

“So I figured, maybe he’d buy a burner. And lo and behold, he did. Janky flip phone, real two thousand five looking. But he paid good money to have GPS and the tracking number erased, so cell towers were useless. Until you.”

You knew he was baiting you into giving Steve up, into admitting that you knew Steve personally. Although you would never tell him about Steve, you were on edge as you thought about the many ways you could have left him vulnerable. Still, even as a thousand scenarios played out in your head, deep down, you knew that you hadn’t been anything less than discreet. The only way they could have known is—

“You had me tailed.”

“And you were a hard one to tail, I will say. You were very careful.” He admitted. “But that’s not how I learned about you.”

You watched as Tony fished through his pants pocket before pulling out a flimsy sheet of film, burnt around the edges. Something Tony had found in the aftermath of one of Steve’s crazy intel missions in a hole-in-the-ground government facility. He walked up to the table that stood between you both and slid it across to you. As your eyes widened in surprise, Tony knew he had you. It was a picture of you and Steve, taken on a polaroid he’d brought a few visits before.

A flip of the latch and he was in for the rest of the week.

You squealed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled him in for a kiss, slow with the promise of something more. He chuckled lowly as he pulled away only for you to whine. “I wanna show you something.”

“Show me later.”

You swatted his hands, urging him to drop the duffel bag he’d been carrying, and led his arms around your waist. One long and very tempting kiss later, he was pulling away again. “Y/N.”

“I’m busy. Giving you my best work here.” You pressed wet kisses down his neck. Then, you settled on the spot just below his ear, always guaranteed to make him lose his mind. He had to fight the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom, his hands clutching tight to your hips. Then, he pushed you back to an arm’s length and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m gonna show you one thing, and then, I promise, I am all yours.”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. “Fine. But this better be good, Steven.”

You watched as he quickly slid off a backpack that you’d only then noticed. Digging around the inside, his eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He dropped the backpack and showed you what was in his hands.

“A camera?”

“A polaroid.” He added excitedly.

“Babe, that’s a little old school. Even for you.” You chuckled.

“This is a newer model, thank you very much.” He said, shaking the small black camera for emphasis. “I thought about a digital camera, but that’s the issue. They’re digital. If someone got their hands on the SD card, they could connect you to me.”

“I don’t care, Steve.”

“I do.” He took a step closer. He cupped your cheek with one hand and caressed his thumb across it lovingly. “If I ever get caught, I don’t want them to find out you were helping me. You’d go to prison.”

It was at that moment that you came to a scary realization. You didn’t care if you went to jail because you’d be doing it for Steve, for what you believed was the greater good. That was when you knew you loved him. Neither of you had told each other, but the sentiment could be felt every time you saw each other. It was the spark between your fingers when you held hands. The way he’d twist your hair for you when you were too sleepy to do it yourself. The way you’d scrub blood off his body when his visit happened to coincide with a mission gone bad. 

You both knew, but it was impossible to say.

“So,” You changed the subject. “You bought a polaroid instead.”

“That way, no one will know except you and me.”

“Our secret.” You nodded, your smile finally matching his. You grabbed his arm and pulled it up in the air as you positioned the camera where you wanted to be.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert in photography?” He joked.

“Shut up and take the picture.”

Tony’s eyes softened as you picked up the photo and relived a memory that he’d never be able to understand. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt — hunting the man he once considered to be one of his best friends. His heart hurt as he watched you swallow down your tears and refuse to cry in front of him. He didn’t want to be the one to bring Steve in. Still, he had to be.

“Where is he, Y/N?”

“Screw you.”

“Just tell me where he is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You opened the drawer to the table and fished out the lighter you’d bought for Steve’s birthday party. You held the polaroid to the flame and watched as the picture burned to ash, gently tossing it in the waste bin. “You have no physical proof that I know Steve Rogers.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

Tony looked at you, defeated and heartbroken at the same time. He acquiesced, stepping back out the window while telling his agents to meet at the rendezvous point. When he stepped back into the Iron Man suit, he gave you a nod. Even behind his mask, you could tell he had a backup plan.

Once he was out of sight, you remembered the emergency plan that Steve had drilled into you once it was clear you were getting serious. Pack a bag, get some cash, and leave town. “He’ll find me.” You kept repeating to yourself as you stuffed your clothes into a spare duffle bag.

When you were done, you picked up the burner and called Steve, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe, it’s me.” You cringed at your shaky voice. “It’s an emergency this time. Tony Stark just showed up at my house. He knows about us. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m getting ready to go. I don’t know where. But you’ll find me. Right?” You shook your head, pushing away any bad thoughts. “Okay. Don’t come to my place, alright? Someone’s probably watching. Just find me.”

Just as you hung up, there was a knock on your window. Worried it was Stark or one of his men, you ran to the closet and picked up your shotgun. Then the window slid open.

Shit, you thought, I forgot the latch.

You inched down the hallway, taking deep breaths as you held the gun steady. Suddenly, someone stepped out, your finger pulled the trigger. Your brow furrowed, though, as the sound was contained in the palm of the man’s hand, light splintering off of it. “Bucky?”

“You must be Y/N.” He smiled kindly. “Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?”

Meanwhile, Tony flew across the city to the rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the Upper East Side. He’d gotten confirmation from his agents just a minute ago that they’d arrived and were waiting for him on the scene, yet when he got there, nobody was to be found. He stepped carefully around the back of one of the black vans, finding one of the agents passed out beside it. “FRIDAY, scan the warehouse for heat signatures.”

“There’s no need.”

When Tony rounded the vehicle, he saw Steve standing across the room. He looked different — a full beard, longer hair, a new black tactical suit that Tony was sure he didn’t design — and yet, he still looked the same. A glimmer in his eyes that Tony once mistook for self-righteousness. He now knew that was just Steve’s determination. “This is a pretty stupid plan, Steve.”

“It would be if it was a plan.” Steve shrugged. “I’m winging it.”

“That’s an even worse plan.”

“Something tells me I’ll be fine.”

“You know I can’t let you walk out of here.”

“You never let me do anything. I’m only here to warn you.”

Tony’s head drooped as he let out a low chuckle. “This is about the girl. You do know her.”

“Stay away from her, Tony.” Steve snapped. “I mean it.”

“You think I’d hurt her?”

“Of course not. But I don’t put you above turning her in.”

“She aided and abetted a fugitive.”

“I’m not having this argument with you. I know you just came from her house. From here on out, stay away from her. This is your only warning.”

Tony was thankful that his mask could not emote as surprise overtook his face. This wasn’t one of Steve’s idle threats that would amount to nothing like when the Avengers were first formed. Tony knew he was serious because he recognized Steve’s expression. It’s the same one Tony got when anyone dared to threaten Pepper.

It was hard admitting that he understood where Steve was coming from. But he did.

“And what if I don’t?” Tony asked, just to gauge his response.

Steve discreetly let out a breath of relief as he heard Bucky confirm that you were safe on comms. Looking back at Tony, his expression was a mixture of darkness and regret. “I’m not sure either of us wants to find out.”

Then, there was a flash of light that all but blinded Tony. When his eyesight returned to normal, Steve was gone.

In the wind once more.

---

Screw him.

After Tony found out who you were, Steve had taken to a safe house — a cabin in upstate Pennsylvania. It had been another favor from T’Challa. The king bought it under an alias and allowed you to stay in it until it was safe for you to go back to New York.

And to be honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. It was kind of a neighborhood, multiple cabins built around one large lake. None of your neighbors actually lived there; they were more like vacation homes. Still, over the few years, you got to know them. It was nice, having that small sense of normalcy. 

Not to mention, it was much easier for Steve to visit this way. He’d come in the back entrance from the woods and stay a week or two, maybe more if he didn’t have any upcoming missions. In fact, it almost became like Steve’s home, too. When he wasn’t on a mission or in Wakanda, he was with you. And though Steve was always the first to say he no longer craved the normalcy of family, he couldn’t deny that being there, with you, was like a dream. A dream that was so close but still unattainable.

He was reminded of that when aliens invaded Earth. For the second time.

He up and left in a hurry one day, rushing out an explanation about how aliens were after Vision for some unknown reason. Still, he assured you that he’d come back, and you nodded sending him on his way with a quick kiss of his lips. It wasn’t unlike any of his other missions.

The difference this time was that he didn’t come back. At least, not for a year. Then, he was at your door again. No warning. No call. No cuts or bruises. Just him in the navy blue combat suit, silver star viciously ripped out. Thick beard, pink lips, and a look in his eyes that could kill. That is, if you didn’t know him. But you did know him. More than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, screw him.

How dare he just show up at your door without so much as a call. Steve had never gone that long without not seeing you, not speaking to you. You thought you meant at least that much to him. Even so, when you saw his face, you couldn’t help but want to be back in your old, beat-up apartment, eating junk and talking about shit that eventually wouldn’t matter until the sun rose.

Your first thought, though, was to slap him. So you did.

He’d seen it coming. He watched your small, soft hand that he’d held in his one too many times rise toward his cheek. He knew he could’ve stopped you. His instincts told him to stop you. But part of him knew he deserved it. He’d become the hero everyone needed, but in return he was no longer satisfied with the man he saw in the mirror.

He was a shell. Smiling for his friends when needed, saving the city, country, world when needed. Or trying to save the world. But inside he barely felt anything.

One of the few things he did feel for stood right in front of him. That’s why he let you slap him.

You knew the hit would barely phase him. He was a super soldier after all. The only thing he could feel was relief. Relief in knowing that you were here, in the flesh. Relieved knowing that the woman he adored hadn’t vanished into thin air. So he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace. 

Surprised didn’t begin to explain how you felt. Still, you could hardly complain when Steve’s lips were moving so tenderly against your own after so much time apart. You were still angry — how could you not be? — but you still worried for him. It all seemed to be happening too fast. From what you saw on the televised memorials, he’d lost half his team, his best friend. You were starting to wonder if he should do this so soon.

You were finally given an opportunity to breathe when Steve started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid down your body and grabbed onto your thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Steve.” You called.

He hummed, finding and nipping at the spot on your neck that made you gasp. 

“Steve.”

His grip only tightened, pulling you as close as he could. 

This time, you spoke more firmly, pushing his head away, “Steve.”

He looked at you, his breaths coming out in huffs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You admitted as you caught your breath. “Are you sure you—“

“I need to feel something.” He said quietly. He seemed almost ashamed as he spoke. “I wanna be sad. I wanna be angry. God, I want to be angry. I'd at least have something fueling me. But I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t feel anything. I feel empty. Every time I close my eyes, I see Bucky turning to dust. Or Vision’s head caved in. Sam’s gone, Wanda’s gone. I just, I need to feel something, anything. Please.”

The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen from him before. Distraught, hopelessness was only a start. In the year he’d been gone, you had no idea what he’d been through. And, to some extent, you know how he felt. You saw some of your own friends and family on the memorial reels. You’d cried yourself to sleep more than once, wondering if you’d ever see them again. You knew that as bad as you felt, Steve probably felt worse because in his mind, it was his job to save them.

And he couldn’t. Didn’t.

So you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. Walked him back toward the bedroom. You took care of him, made him feel, even if only for a moment, when he was completely and utterly numb. And you laid with him afterward until you both fell asleep, no idea what the morning would bring for you.

You’d find out that the morning would not be much kinder. When you woke up, Steve was slipping his combat suit back on. He cursed softly when he realized you were awake, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Right.” You huffed, your voice still groggy-sounding. “You just meant to leave before we could talk about what the hell happened last night.”

He sighed, “Y/N—”

“So this is what you do now? Show up and leave when it’s convenient for you?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been honest with you. You know that—”

“That you’re a fugitive? Half the fucking universe is gone, Steve. They’re not worried about you anymore.” You scoffed, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your bare chest. “You know what? For the first time, I thought I could be selfish, that you could be selfish.”

“I can’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He tried to veer away from the conversation as he glanced around the room and muttered to himself. “Where the fuck are my boots?”

“You’d saved so many people. So many lives kept safe because of you. And when you made one mistake in the eyes of the law, a whole lot of them turned on you. And you’d think that, of all things, would make you want to be selfish, just once.”

“I can’t afford to be selfish.” He replied. “People need me.”

“I need you, Steve.” Your voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made him freeze. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never once heard you sound so helpless. Child-like, almost. “You were gone. For a year.”

“I know.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He came around to sit next to you, a comforting hand on your thigh as you leaned back on the headboard. “I’m sorry.”

“I had to watch my neighbors disappear into thin air. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn’t know if I was next.”

“Y/N…”

“Then I saw the memorials. I lost my best friend, too. Heather.” You told him, a tear finally falling from your eye. “My aunt, two cousins, my nephew. They’re all gone.”

“I did everything I could.” Steve said, trying but failing to hold in his own tears.

“I know you did. That was not your fault. I know you would’ve given your life for the world.” Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him. You placed your hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s not why I’m upset with you. You didn’t come back to me, Steve. I knew you were okay, they said so on the news. I kept waiting and waiting, and you never came.”

“I couldn’t.” He wiped the tears from his face. Then, he abruptly stood from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“Steve—”

“It’s only hurting both of us to be here.” He quickly found his boots and slipped them on.

“Steve, stop it!” You slipped out of bed and grabbed your robe.

“Y/N, you don’t get it! I can’t do what I have to — I can’t be Captain America — if I’m always thinking about you!”

“Then tell me you don’t love me.”

His lips parted in shock as he tilted his head, eyes giving you a sad look. “That’s not fair.”

“Just tell me. That way, all this, this bullshit, will make sense.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like we’ve said it to each other anyway.”

“Stop, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked out of the bedroom, toward the back door. You were quick to follow him, staying on his heels.

“Say it.”

“Don’t.”

“Say you don’t love me, Steve.”

“Goddamn it, you know I love you, Y/N!” He snapped, turning to face you. “I love you, alright?”

Everything about that moment was the portrait of juxtaposition. He’d just snapped at you, sure, but he also just said the three little words that you’d both been tiptoeing around for years. He finally professed his love to you, but his eyes were filled with sadness, with regret. Steve may have been the hero, but the way he was looking at you made it clear that he was the one who needed saving. Not that he’d ever let you.

And to think it was him who initially sought to be a part of your life.

“Then, why are you leaving?” You asked, tears still falling from your eyes.

“I can’t be Captain America and the man who loves you, and I do love you. So much.” He stepped closer, ignoring his own tears. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. “Because if it ever comes down to everyone or you? I’m choosing you.”

You wished the moment could have been more tender. But your heart broke at the thought because looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. You grabbed his wrists tight, afraid to let go. “So this is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a bittersweet kiss. You could taste both your tears on your lips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the whole world mattered except for the feeling of his lips on yours because this would be the last time you ever felt it. You prayed to whoever was listening that you’d never forget the feeling. His soft lips nudging yours apart, the heaviness of his hands on your face. You hoped you never forgot what it was like to feel him, his weight, his heat, his joy, his sadness. Everything about him, you hoped it would be ingrained in your mind because even though it had only been a few years since you met, you couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.

When he pulled away, it felt too soon. He looked at you one more time, his eyes puffy and red. He memorized your eyes and your lips, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale hands. He slid his hands down your neck, to your shoulders, then your forearms, finally willing himself to step back. He looked like he wanted to say something, and you hoped that he would. But nothing came out.

With one last glance, Steve was out your back door.

In the wind. For good.

[mottephobia-imagines]

BNHA as Hetalia Characters (Axis + Allies only)

Hahahahaaaa.. I’m still Hetalia trash 😇

—

Mirio Togata as America

I first put Denki as America but then I saw a post and now I can’t stop thinking about BTT SeroKiriKami so yeah-

Mirio and America have more things in common other than being blond, blue-eyed precious beans that need to be protected

First of- s t r o n g. They’re both canonically some of the strongest characters in their respective series despite their relatively young ages (Mirio being above some pro-hero levels despite still being in high school and America being well America lmao)

Additionally, they both have drive; they have a determination to become as strong as they possibly could, and stop at nothing to get there

Also, they love helping people! Mirio wants to save a million smiles, and America is a self-proclaimed hero (who admittedly isn’t the best but he’s trying okay)

Both of them kinda also have a hidden intelligence? Like, as in one would never think of them to be highly intelligent people because they’re so goofy and energetic

Since it’s implied that both Tamaki and Mirio game in their free time, him and America are also avid gamers (imagine them playing smash together lmao I feel like they’d break all the controllers)

Both v v competitive too (not as much as the next duo tho)- they’ll never back down from a challenge and face it head on with all their might!

Also, they’re basically the blond boy of the month but it’s every month lmao

(In my eyes they’re both cute little golden retrievers shshsjdjskal)

In conclusion, they’re sunshines who deserve the world and more

Katsuki Bakugo as England

Okay fr hear me the fuck out-

I know it’s an unlikely pair

But they have their similarities just bear with me here

Yes, I was initially going to put in Romano for Bakugo (anger issues gang)

But then the more I thought about it, the more I realized that unlike Romano, he wouldn’t back away from a challenge or run at the slightest scare- Bakugo would take that shit and smother it into the ground

And while England may sometimes be portrayed as a prude gentleman type, we can’t forget his history- this man is probably one of, if not the most, ballsy countries to exist (at least back in his prime)

England is smart, calculated and cunning- how could you not be when you’ve conquered nearly the whole damn world?

He’s proud and maybe a bit too egotistical, and while lacking the anger issues and probably dead vocal cords of Bakugo, he sure as hell matches him in the pride and power aspect

Bakugo, on the other hand, is literally top of his class; boy is a nerd and has a perfect record

So he’s by no means any less smart than England, maybe a little more reckless, but he’s 16- you can’t exactly compare his mindset to a country’s

Even so he does act quickly on the battlefield, much like England assessed situations very precariously (most of the time)

Both of them would probably look an opponent dead in the eye and tell them to do it, bet you won’t pussy ass

On a lighter note tho, they’re two blond, spiky-haired tsunderes who are way to proud and smart for their own good

They also both listen to rock/punk so there’s that too

foreverfurrowedbrowclubTM

Aoyama Yuuga as France

I know I just said SeroKamiKiri is the BTT but once again hear me out

I couldn’t not put Aoyama in as France

It’s literally a match made in Heaven guys cmon

They’re both sparkling, flamboyant and fabulous blondies

Although sometimes their attitude can be interpreted as holier-than-thou, really they just know that they’re amazing and don’t care what people think (we stan confident kings 😤)

They also know that they deserve the best luxuries in life, and definitely won’t settle for anything else

In terms of courage, they’re pretty much on the same level; they get scared easily and will more than likely either back out of the challenge or give up the moment they feel tired

The difference is, France will never regain whatever bravery he had before the French Revolution, but Aoyama is slowly building his courage up in his journey to become a hero

They also take things in stride, willingly or unwillingly (whether it be an ugly outfit or a defeat, they won’t be a sore loser lmao)

While not necessarily flirty like France, Aoyama can still charm people with his whims. Also, their relationship towards people that they can’t charm kind of mirrors one another? (Might be reaching here lmao)

I do think though sometimes that Aoyama shows some similarities with Poland/2P!Romano, but he has the most similarities with France so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Toga Himiko as Russia

You may say she’s more like Belarus but nay nay I say

Belarus is the more kind of ‘stoic’ cruel in my mind; she doesn’t show much emotion besides annoyance and getting angry

Russia however

He’s ‘childishly’ cruel- looks innocent but is capable of some horrible, monstrous things.

Even though his face says otherwise, he does take some glee in torturing harming others (like, a lot)

Toga also does this, but in a much more obvious way lmao. She’s a villain, who drinks blood, there’s no doubt she hasn’t killed anyone. She also takes a lot more pleasure from hurting people than Russia does

They not that close with people, but the ones they are close to they are immensely protective of (Toga and the LOV, Russia and his sisters)

They also are capable of being highly intelligent, knowing more than what people think they know (Toga helping Twice our, and I high key headcanon Russia as a manipulative and cunning bastard who’s done many horrible things to people to get his way)

(I still love you Ivan)

I think this goes without saying but they’re really really violent

Russia just likes using his magic metal pipe of pain, and Toga likes her knives

They also have some really shitty pasts that have lead them to be who they are today

They may look cute on the outside, but they are oh so very cruel on the inside

Shota Aizawa as China

Haha, old man syndrome-

These two have more in common than you’d think

First off, they have that wisdom that comes with age, and are trying to get the younger ones to learn it (Aizawa does this better lmao)

I can totally see them complaining about ‘kids these days’ even tho they’ve done the same shit back then-

Along with wisdom comes cunning and craft. I headcanon China as a low key genius, so he’s probably on par with Aizawa, if not better (in terms of battle strategy and such)

Even though they come off as strict, all they really want is the best for their students/siblings

They’re both physically strong (China was probably once hella jacked, and Aizawa speaks for himself)

They do tire out quite easily tho so there’s that

Both have a penchant for cute animals like cats (Hello Kitty’s a cat don’t @ me)

On a darker note, they’ve both suffered losses of close friends. While China has definitely lost a lot more, Shirakumo’s ‘death’ still took a huge toll on him. Likewise, China has lost all his ancient friends over the years, making him the last one left (except turkey and Mongolia they don’t matter rn)

Tenya Iida as Germany

You cannot tell me this isn’t also a match made in heaven

They’re literally, at their very core, almost the exact same person

Iida is a stickler for rules- he follows every single one of them. Any and every. Pretty organized too, if I do say so myself

Likewise, Germany is also very strict with rules and regimens. He’s also canonically OCD so mans cannot stand messes (people or things)

It may make them seem like pains in the neck but really it’s the only way they know how to interact

Also have some angsty connections with their brothers

Although not as easily provoked as Germany, Iida can still be just as terrifying (mans tried to kill Stain I mean come on-)

As with nearly all of these characters, they’re both strong as hecc

Also, I feel like both of them are somewhat pressured by what their other family members have accomplished and want to achieve the same thing (Iida coming from a family of superheroes, and Germany really looking up to his father and brother and wanting to be like them but less yknow)

They don’t really know how to communicate well?? Like, of course they can talk and hold conversation but they have difficulty with most social interactions (it’s adorable)

More often than not the louder voice of reason within their friend group (Everyone in the Dekusquad besides Deku himself is the voice of reason lmao, and Germany is a no-nonsense kind of guy)

Smart bois (In Gakuen Hetalia, Germany is said to be one of the smartest students and tutors Italy, and Iida tries his best)

All in all very awkward and loud losers beans that need to learn how to not be so stiff lmao

Shoto Todoroki as Japan

Y’all already know I had to pair the introverts together

Calm, collected and reserved- these two mind their own business like it’s a sports championship lmao

Even though they may come off as intimidating sometimes, in reality they’re just shy and don’t really know the basics of social interaction (more than Germany and Iida lmao)

They’re both fairly strong, too (Todoroki with his icy hot quirk makes him one of the most OP characters in MHA imo, and Japan definitely doesn’t carry around a katana just for show)

Very very convoluted and not so great childhood (Think the sengoku period was Japan’s childhood so he was basically torn up as a kid while Todoroki had to deal with Endebitch)

Also both pretty smart??? Like, high key they’re both very intelligent and skilled

Both their friends are slowly helping them get out of that super duper introverted mindset, but the poor bbs are still trying to learn how to be a lot less stiffe

They’re also really into architecture esp traditional Japanese architecture (canon in both)

I honestly think they’d get along pretty well if they met, tbh

(Japan would get him into anime and manga and the bookworm in Todoroki can’t resist)

The strange circumstance of Italy

Honestly, I could not find anyone in MHA that was remotely similar to Italy

I was very close to putting in Mina or Nejire, since those two come to mind whenever I think of bright and bubbly (Maybe Kirishima too, but it just doesn’t fit)

So while those two are pretty much the most fitting I feel, they don’t completely encompass his character enough yonow?

Like, I genuinely cannot find anyone who is similar enough to compare him to

So for now, until I can find a suitable pick, Italy won’t have a MHA character to be paired up with 😔 sorry guys

—

What do you guys think? Do you agree or do you think different characters should be put in place?

If this gets enough notes, I might make a part 2 including female nations and the others (or whatever characters you guys request)

Requests are still open! You can ask for edits or character imagines/headcanons!

[castiel-kline]

More thoughts on 15x18, because I’m really struggling with it. (I have lots of feelings, and a lot them are Not Pretty)

Let’s talk about the issue of Cas’s “true happiness.”

First of all, “true happiness” was never in the terms of the deal. The Empty never said Cas had to be truly happy, it only said he had to give himself “permission to be happy.” That ain’t the same thing. I feel like “true happiness” is an unreachable goal. It’s a light at the end of the tunnel that you can never reach because it doesn’t really exist. You can certainly find it in little moments along the way, but it’s not an epiphany. It’s a process. “Permission to be happy,” on the other hand, can be manufactured. It can be, “I feel like crap right now, I hate myself and my life is terrible, but I WILL be happy about watching this movie or hugging my friend.” Example- I did this today. I’ve been in a funk after this episode (hello, crippling attachment to fictional characters!) but I went over to a friend’s house and I met her new dog for the first time. And he jumped on me and I laughed and I thought, well- I still feel like crap. I still have a lot to process. I still have deadlines for actual life stuff looming over me and spiking my anxiety. But I will be happy now for this adorable little fluffball and my friend who I haven’t seen in months. I gave myself permission to be happy. 

And Cas in that scene didn’t look happy to me. He looked miserable. He looked like he was two seconds from shattering. We’ve seen Cas genuinely happy before- 14x08 comes to mind, when he laughed from pure joy at seeing Jack again. When he smiled at that little girl in early season 10. Hell, even season 6 Cas looked 1000 times happier when he went in to hug freshly-re-souled Sam than Cas did in *that* scene. When Cas is happy, there’s a lightness to him. It’s like some weight has been lifted. Cas in this episode wasn’t lightest when the Empty took him, but when he was talking to Jack. And that’s saying something because that was a fucking depressing conversation. 

And the lines everyone is talking about- “What I want is something I know I can’t have.” and “Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.” 

Oh boy. I saw a post today calling that toxic positivity, and it’s right. Cas basically said I Will Speak the Happiness into Existence Whether I Feel it or Not. 

He also said “I wondered what my true happiness could even look like, and I never found an answer.”

First off, honey, true happiness wasn’t part of the deal. But he did say he never found an answer. Which means, presumably, that whatever was going on in this scene wasn’t true happiness. He just dropped the pretense of it, and gave himself permission to be happy at a very strategic time in order to take out Billie and stop her from killing more people. Dean, yes, but Sam and Jack as well. If there was a chance they were still alive, you can damn well bet that Cas was gonna take it. Because he’s a strategist. He was a soldier for millions of years and he commanded Heavenly armies. I feel like that’s not a job Michael or Raphael or whoever else would give to just anybody. 

So what if what Cas wanted but could never have was happiness? And he forced himself to feel some so the Empty would come, and that’s why he was so “oh wow I love my friend.” And I’m not disputing that there’s love there. I don’t vibe with Destiel and I think something has got to be reciprocated before it can be canon, but whether it was platonic or romantic or something in between or something different altogether those two definitely had something going on. That is in no way an excuse for Dean treating him like crap for years, but we’ve all looked for the best in people, in things, even if they hurt us or disappointed us or really fucking pissed us off. Kinda like what I’m doing right now LMAO

And if you watch closely, Cas takes a fucking minute after he mentions Jack. He looked like he was in so much pain. His voice cracked when he mentioned Sam. In making the choice to sacrifice himself he was condemning himself to never seeing Sam again. Never seeing Jack again. And Sam and Cas love each other so damn much, and Cas loves Jack more than anything else. That was bound to be hard. Probably one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. 

So of course he focused on Dean. Because he loves him too, even though he probably shouldn’t sometimes, and he mustered up enough happiness for the Empty to come, and found some pride in himself and how he’s grown. I do believe he sort of accepted himself, and let go of some of his self-loathing at the last second. He cobbled together some last-minute peace. I’m proud of him for that. 

But I think I hate it, in all honestly. I DESPISE it as an ending for Castiel. It doesn’t do him justice in the slightest. It doesn’t begin to be in that realm. It was a mess, it was poorly written, he felt out of character (the fucking disconnect from Cas in his scenes with Jack this ep vs. this monstrosity... whoa nelly. I have whiplash). But I have to believe that there’s something like this in there, or I will go insane. I’m far too attached to Cas to just let this go without settling on an interpretation that isn’t “gay angel goes to superhell.” Totally valid to cope with 2012 tumblr humor, but dear god am I really struggling with this. It was bad, but I need to take it somewhat seriously for my own sanity.

And he’s dead. He’s gone, probably permanently. And the knowledge of that alone is enough to make me cry (listen... Castiel has gotten me through some crap in my life. I MISS him) and I will forever be angry that his ending wasn’t even about him. So hopefully my analysis helped you a little bit, if you’re in a Cas-loving pit and clawing your way out like me. 

I just think the timing of it was too perfect for Cas not to have been aware of what he was doing. It was too deliberate. And though I am all for Cas getting some kind of canonical queerness (even though all the SPN angels are technically canonically genderfluid/nonbinary/non-conforming, somewhere in that broad spectrum), I still think what he wanted but could never have was much more to do with himself rather than Dean. He really didn’t have to die, though, certainly not so terribly. I think I actually preferred his death in All Along the Watchtower. I wouldn’t trade late seasons Cas for anything, though, because (excepting this) he was rad. Killing the game. Dadstiel, Sam and Cas’s friendship- I loved watching those flourish in the late seasons. And everything I loved most about it was done so dirty. I’m just so tired. I wish I could mourn him without being angry and bitter at the writers. 

[harrowdubois]

okay, i said if there was interest i would think about making a post listing all the references i squeezed into the locked tomb fic i spent the last month or so writing, and now i’ve realised i don’t care if there’s interest because i want to be self-indulgent SO

under the cut is a (somewhat spoilery) chronological list of all the memes, vines, and cribbed tumblr posts, as well as homages to various books, tv shows, song lyrics, etc. that made their way into blessed with a wilder mind! 

(cw for suicide mention)

this is of course a reference to the legendary bodybuilding forum thread where they did, actually, argue over how many days there are in a week (cw for ableist slurs in the thread)

---

buzzfeed unsolved meme. i am dirt and i love to eat dirt

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this is so well-known it’s almost not worth listing it but oh my god they were roommates

---

in itself, this isn’t a reference to anything in particular, but if you didn’t do this on your first read then i’d recommend taking another look at this scene and thinking about the specific wuthering heights/frankenstein/rebecca excerpts discussed by harrow and mercymorn but in relation to canon!harrow’s trauma/relationship with the body in htn :~) 

---

also not really a reference to anything in particular but when i looked back over the fic for this post it struck me that the ‘sex panther’ phrasing was probably at least partially unconsciously inspired by the shoebox project (professor mcgonagall’s oiled man panther was a formative moment for me, truly)

---

cw gross/unsanitary: it’s the tinder poop window incident. i mentioned this in the end notes of the fic as being what i had in mind for that scene but if it’s too gross for you (UNDERSTANDABLY) then feel free to Death Of The Author me to your heart’s content!

---

i listened to a lot of orville peck while writing this

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 very very very loosely inspired by this clickhole article

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respectively: fourth of july by sufjan stevens / wuthering heights by emily bronte

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TWO BROS, CHILLIN IN A HOT TUB, FIVE FEET APART BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT GAY

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there was absolutely no need to stretch this across three paragraphs, and yet

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iconic

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i already linked to this one in the end notes of the fic itself, but it’s good, so here it is again

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 i can’t find the actual original post but it’s this fucking horrible thing 

---

the last line is a reference to the secret history by donna tartt:

“Could it be because it reminds us that we are alive, of our mortality, of our individual souls- which, after all, we are too afraid to surrender but yet make us feel more miserable than any other thing? But isn't it also pain that often makes us most aware of self? It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a being separate from the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one's burned tongues and skinned knees, that one's aches and pains are all one’s own. Even more terrible, as we grow old, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us. Our own selves make us most unhappy, and that's why we're so anxious to lose them, don't you think?”

---

a lyrical double whammy!

from ‘last words of a shooting star’ by mitski: “they’ll never know how i’d stared at the dark in that room with no thoughts like a blood-sniffing shark”

from ‘a better son/daughter’ by rilo kiley: “sometimes in the morning i am petrified but can’t move/awake but cannot open my eyes” 

---

*

shout-out to maybe my single favourite video game moment, the encounter with the sky cat in night in the woods: “There is a hole at the center of everything, and it is always growing. Between the stars I am seeing it. It is coming, and you are not escaping, and the universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, and there is nothing to remember it, not even the things beyond. And now there is only the hole... You are atoms, and your atoms are not caring if you are existing. Your atoms are monstrous existence.”

---

“Nothing is ever fulfilled, not until the very end.” - rust cohle, true detective s1, this reference is VERY tonally dissonant because in context it’s actually grim as all hell but w/e w/e i couldn’t resist the shout-out

also harrow quotes from the goldfinch again here! i had the reference included before i read this post and realised tamsyn muir also quotes from the secret history in htn. terrible synergy 

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they are in fact all real. you’re welcome

---

this one’s doing a lot of work lmao. it’s paying homage to this quote by tamsyn muir talking about the draco-in-leather-pants trope in relation to ianthe by loosely referencing drop dead gorgeous, the best drarry fic ever written, in which harry is part veela

---

“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown I back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.” - that’s right it’s another reference to the secret history, with a little bit of mary oliver (tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?) sprinkled on top for flavour

--- 

a small one, but it’s the goldfinch again: “And I feel I have something very urgent and serious to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you...”

---

my FUCKING cinnamon apple

 what if i... put my minecraft bed.... next to yours... aha ha just kidding.... unless?

---

[cw: suicide discussion in these next two]

*

robyn can have little a rust cohle quote, as a treat.

1. “I'd consider myself a realist, all right? But in philosophical terms I'm what's called a pessimist... I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself. We are creatures that should not exist by natural law... We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, that accretion of sensory experience and feelings, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody's nobody... I think the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming. Stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction; one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.”

2. “This... This is what I'm talking about. This is what I mean when I'm talkin' about time, and death, and futility. All right, there are broader ideas at work, mainly what is owed between us as a society for our mutual illusions. Fourteen straight hours of staring at DBs, these are the things you think of. You ever done that? You look in their eyes, even in a picture, doesn't matter if they're dead or alive, you can still read 'em. You know what you see? They welcomed it... Not at first, but... right there in the last instant. It's an unmistakable relief. See, cause they were afraid, and now they saw for the very first time how easy it was to just... let go. Yeah, they saw, in that last nanosecond, they saw... what they were. You, yourself, this whole big drama, it was never more than a jerry-rig of presumption and dumb will, and you could just let go. To finally know that you didn't have to hold on so tight. To realize that all your life - you know, all your love, all your hate, all your memories, all your pain - it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room, a dream about being a person.”

---

ahaaa this one’s particularly rough. evil monkey no one alive dot jpg

“Later, that dozy embrace solidified in his memory as the single moment of artless, charmed happiness in their separate and difficult lives. Nothing marred it, even the knowledge that Ennis would not then embrace him face to face because he did not want to see or feel that it was Jack he held. And maybe, he thought, they’d never got much farther than that. Let be, let be.” - annie proulx, brokeback mountain

---

a TRIPLE lyrical whammy!

- harrow’s words to gideon in the dream are a bit of a vague reference to the song ‘adventures in solitude’ by the new pornographers (”we thought we lost you/welcome back”) - gideon’s words to harrow are a reference to the song ‘blush’ by wolf alice (”you’ve got two hands to take all you can/but don’t take too long”) - what harrow texts to gideon is a line from ‘about today’ by the national, aka the most devastating song ever written (”hey, are you awake?/yeah i’m right here”...)

---

i CANNOT find a clip of it but harrow’s repetition of “life is short... it’s short” was me paraphrasing from memory a line from pride (2014), because i am the worst

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spooky scary skeletons! 

“jail for gideon” is obviously a reference to the “jail for mother” tweet that tm also referenced in htn. so, not original in the slightest, but it’s a great tweet

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one of my favourite tumblr posts

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because naberius tern absolutely would watch rick and morty. he would. i know it in my heart. 

---

and that’s it, i think. hope you enjoyed this horrid little post and my horrid little fic!

[nami-writes]

Bittersweet Reunion - Watch Dogs: Legion [WIP]

(can you tell i had no clue what to name this)

so i wrote this after i played wdl and finished the finding bagley mission bc i loved that there was a canon mlm pairing and i thought the whole meeting bradley thing was Incredibly unsatisfying so i did this and originally i was gonna have bagley and arthur get back together but then it started writing itself and bagley wouldnt date arthur bc that’d go against his morals and i was like shit thats not what i planned but also i realized it was in character so this is that disaster lmao

“I’m ready for the rest of my life, Arthur. And I want you to be a part of it.”

The sixth audio file ended with what sounded like a kiss, and Lindsey had to pause to take it in. Bagley had really had a life— a lover. A lover he had to leave behind.

“Arthur… I should remember more about him. But I don’t.”

It sounded so rushed, so nonchalant, that Lindsey knew better than to believe his tone and even Bagley himself knew it. Because, truth was, he was processing the same things Lindsey was and more. He really was damned to eternity, being a human turned AI and all, because now he was experiencing quite a lot of thoughts and certainly not enjoying it. Where was Arthur now? Did he still remember him? Did he miss him? Why was Bagley even wondering if his not-boyfriend still missed him?

Some part of his human half wondered if it’s possible to find Arthur again, meet the person his past self was so deeply in love with that now he found himself longing for him too.

“Sir—”

“Don’t touch me!”

Bagley was pulled out of the thoughts growing less and less artificial by the second as the next audio file began, already far more emotionally charged than the ones prior.

“These people are here to help you, Bags—”

“Don’t call me that!”

He’s snappish and frustrated and angry and current Bagley could almost feel it too. There’s more struggling as Bagley— past Bagley— seemed to be fighting someone off.

“She did this! Someone stop her!”

‘She’ must’ve been Skye Larsen, who else could it have been? He wanted to hope Natalie would listen— just listen, goddammit, this was all Skye’s fault, don’t you know what she’s done?— but he knew it was no use. They didn’t know. Natalie didn’t know. Not a fucking soul knew what she did to him.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s not usually like this!”

“Get out of my head! Get o—”

His voice died out as more noise played, then an unfamiliar voice called for an ambulance.

“Bags. Bagley. Bra—”

And it ended there.

“I’m assuming that ‘she’ was Skye Larsen,” he said to Lindsey. “Seems like the usual suspect where brain fuckery is concerned.” As controlled as he usually was, not even he could keep the slightest bit of anger out of his voice by the end of his sentence.

The next audio file began with a man explaining that Bagley had early on-set dementia, which intrigued him because it didn’t explain when exactly Skye got her hands on him. Then the sister from prior audio files spoke with that same strangely familiar voice, just as demanding as before. “You listen to me. I don’t care what it takes. No brother of mine is going to waste away in some hospital.”

Something was wrong. There was a piece missing somewhere between those memories and he had an idea of where it could be found.

Skygarden.

“Why do I have a feeling we’re not up here to reminisce?” The audio began as Lindsey snapped the last photo.

“Right. I’ve been thinking a lot about your epilepsy.” The sister. Of course. He still couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but she sounded awfully familiar, but not in a good way. In a this-person-has-the-same-name-as-my-primary-school-bully way.

“That’s nice. My doctors stopped thinking about it years ago. I had to give up so much because of it. Rowing, my mates, my…” A sigh followed after he trailed off and he had a feeling that that sigh replaced the word ‘boyfriend.’

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Bradley. That name sounded familiar. Come to think of it, that must’ve been what Natalie called him in the seventh audio file just before it cut off. He supposed it sounded familiar because, well, it is— was— his name, but there was something more to it. He just couldn’t figure out what. He ran a quick search for Bradleys in London, but of course that left him with thousands of Bradleys and not a single clue as to how to filter out the useless ones.

“Wow. Look at you using my real name for once. I must be truly fucked.” Fucked was an understatement. How did he go from a human to nothing more than an AI? It wasn’t that he was unhappy as an AI, especially considering he worked for DedSec and they were wonderful, they really were, but to think he was once human…

“What if I told you I had something that could work?”

Something deep inside of him that vaguely resembled a computerized heart dropped at those words. He had a bad, bad feeling about this.

“Ha. Never knew you were funny.”

But Skye Larsen created him, didn’t she?

“I’m not. It’s a tech we’re developing. It’s early stages, but… have you ever heard of neural mapping?”

“No.” No, it couldn’t be.

“Here. Let’s go to my lab. I’ll show you.”

Who was this sister?

“Lead the way, Skye.”

And the audio ended.

“I was Skye Larsen’s brother.” It was strange to say out loud. “I’m Bradley. Bradley Larsen.” That was why she sounded so familiar. That was why Skye Larsen was his creator. Fuck. “Bradley Larsen…” He returned to his search for Bradleys and narrowed it down to one Bradley Larsen, brother of Skye Larsen, son of Sinead and Kevin Larsen. “I’ve found a room pre-paid through to April 4, 2040 under the name of Bradley Larsen— paid for by S. Larsen.” Skye.

“So you might still be alive,” Lindsey said. “Where’s the room?”

He checked his databases. “St. Pancras Hotel.”

And when she arrived, it was no less than what he expected, if less than what he wanted.

He left not quite satisfied.

But what else could he do? His father was gone and his mother and sister were dead. He checked his deep profiler and found Natalie through Bradley, but it seemed she was dead as well. And then— Arthur Jenkins, former spouse. 

“I think I’ve found Arthur from the sixth audio file,” he said. “Mind getting him for me?”

“Say the word, Bags,” Lindsey said.

He found his schedule and looked for his soonest outing. “He’ll be at Crosier & Cherry Tree at 8 PM.” There was a tinge of sadness in his voice at the location that they both decided to ignore.

He checked the rest of Arthur’s profile, too curious to resist. His photo was attached. To his surprise, Arthur was a curly-haired ginger. Apparently Bradley had known more people with no souls than just Skye Larsen. Age 29, worked as a bartender at Crosier & Cherry— that was why he’d be there. Associated with Melissa Phillips, friend; Natalie Walker, deceased friend; and Bradley Larsen, former spouse. Metadata… looking through it could’ve broken his heart if he had one.

He had countless searches involving dementia up until he was 28 and had hundreds of recorded visits to St. Pancras Hotel, Bradley’s room. Hundreds of visits that, when he accessed the records, seemed to just… stop. Daily-to-weekly visits simply vanished into none. Numerous phone calls to Skye Larsen that Bagley could only assume were angry and accusational because he was charged for harassment due to a complaint from Skye on the same day he stopped visiting.

He tried. He really tried, and then Skye fucked it all up like she always does.

“Bagley, I’ve found him.” He turned his attention to Lindsey’s Optik and, sure enough, he could see the ginger in the photo through the glass window. “Want me to bring him back to the Hackerspace?”

He considered it, but bringing him back would’ve meant involving the others. This was just a one-time thing. “No, just— could you get him somewhere I could talk privately with him?”

“Sure thing.” He watched as she entered the pub and approached Arthur at the counter.

“‘Ello, mate, what can I get for you?” he asked, uncannily cheery with a smile on his face. Something told Bagley this should’ve made him feel… something, but he felt not even a twinge of recognition from anywhere other than the photo on his digital profile.

“I’m here to talk to you, actually,” Lindsey said.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and took a second to look her over a second time, his customer service smile fading into skepticism. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I know someone you do. Mind if we talk somewhere else?”

He shrugged. “S’pose not. Better get it on with, then, I’ve got to get back to work.”

Shit. Time was running out and they were already heading to a back room and Bagley hadn’t a fucking clue what to say so when he was cast onto the nearest unwatched telly before Lindsey left, all he could think to say was “Hello, Arthur.”

And then there was a silence where Bagley was internally cursing himself for being such a bloody idiot and Arthur looked like either he was about to drop to his knees in awe or he had shit himself. And then he broke the silence.

“Bradley?” His eyes were lit up with hope, hope Bagley knew he’d have to destroy because he wasn’t Bradley, not really. But he’d worry about that later.

“Oh, Gods, that’s going to be my version of Bradley’s stupid nickname, isn’t it? Though, if you ask me, Bagley is a perfectly good name,” he remarked. He had no idea how to properly handle a situation in which he was meeting the lover he had in a past life, so, naturally, he reverted to his usual self. Arthur was in love with him before, he can put up with him again.

Arthur chuckled, cracking a smile. “Now I know you aren’t Bradley. He hated that nickname.” He took another moment to comprehend what just happened. “But, really, how? How are you— what are you? What is” —he gestured vaguely at the TV screen— “this?”

“That’s a funny story, actually, see—”

“Bradley,” Arthur interrupted him, his smile turning solemn. “I’m serious. Last time I saw you, you were in a bloody wheelchair! What happened to you?”

There was another silence where Bagley tried to think of something ‘serious’ to say, but his actual response felt much more natural to him.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, a feigned grumble but unseen smile in his voice, “that’s not my name.”

And at that, not even Arthur could keep a straight face, but his smile didn’t last long. “Bags. Please. I need answers. I was so sure it was that bitch Skye— sorry, I know she’s your sister and all, but— I spent so long searching for ways to help you and trying to get her to fucking stop— you only ended up in the bloody hospital after she got involved and then she wouldn’t let me keep seeing you and I couldn’t—” His voice broke then and he had to pause, clear his throat and collect himself. “I’m sorry, I tried, I didn’t want to stop visiting. I really didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Bagley didn’t know how to tell him it was all in vain; Skye won in the end, she always did, and he didn’t even remember being Bradley or knowing Arthur at all. As far as he remembered, he’d only known Arthur for five minutes.

“Bagley?”

“It doesn’t matter.” There was no use in prolonging it.

“...What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated. “I’m not Bradley.”

“Are you mad? Of course you’re Bradley.’

“No, I’m not. Bradley is still in St. Pancras. I’m Bagley.”

Arthur gave a confused chuckle and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“It was Skye,” he finally said. “It’s a long story, really, but in simpler terms, she tried to fix Bradley’s epilepsy through a process called neural mapping. It essentially separated his consciousness from his body, which gave him dementia and took my human body. I’m his consciousness, but I’m not him.”

Arthur didn’t respond. He seemed to still be processing what he’d just heard.

“And I’m sorry to say, but my memory was wiped not long after my creation. I don’t… remember anything about being Bradley.” He paused. Arthur knew what that meant, and he knew that his next sentence was going to confirm it. “I don’t remember anything about you.”

Arthur took far longer to respond than Bagley would’ve liked. “So you’re—” He stopped. “So Bradley’s really gone.”

“Unfortunately so.”

More silence. “Then why are you here?”

That was a good question, actually. Why was he here?

“I suppose I came to say goodbye,” Bagley said. “Give you some closure on Bradley, so you know what happened. I know you two were quite close.”

He scoffed. “Close is an understatement.” His voice softened. “We were going to get married,” he said. “At least, I think we were. If Skye hadn’t gotten involved— if I’d only had the time— I was going to propose. Had a ring in mind and everything. I’m fairly sure Bradley knew, too. I just wanted us to have that one thing before… before it was too late.”

Bagley had to take a second to let it sink in. In a past life, he’d almost gotten married. How much had he missed out on as a human because of Skye? His voice was solemn as he spoke, a first for him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Arthur offered no elaboration before something else seemed to cloud his mind. Silence seemed to be something both of them were good at. Bagley considered directly asking what was on his mind, but Arthur spoke before he could decide. “Can I ask something of you?”

“Ask away. I’ve only got the rest of my non-life.”

“...Could we try it again?” he asked, hesitation in his words. At Bagley’s confused silence, he uncrossed his arms, a willing show of vulnerability. “I mean, could we try… us, again? I know you don’t remember anything about me or Bradley and you’re not Bradley, I know that, but— maybe something good could come out of it. Maybe— maybe we could still have something.”

“You want us to…” He trailed off, thinking it over. By ‘something,’ he meant a relationship, but— could he be in a relationship? He was still an AI. He wasn’t Bradley. He wasn’t even attracted to Arthur. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could feel attraction, if that was built into his operating system. Everything in him wanted to say no, it would never work out. An AI taking part in human affairs was a recipe for disaster.

“We could start from the beginning,” Arthur added, as if he knew what Bagley was thinking before he even said it. “I know you don’t really know me so we can start out just friends, nothing more. We can take it as slow as you want and if you decide there’ll never be anything more, we can just stay as friends if that’s what you’re comfortable with. But if you think there can be more, we can try that.”

It was tempting, but… Arthur was still human. And Bagley was not. “Arthur, I’m not sure I was made for this.”

“Then let’s find out,” he said. “I’m okay with anything you are.”

“No, I mean I’m not sure I was made to feel attraction. I believe that’s a fairly important part of relationships,” Bagley said with a hint of humor in the last sentence, though it disappeared by the next. “I’ve never felt that way toward anyone and I’m not sure you’ll be an exception.”

He sighed. “Bags. It doesn’t matter to me whether you like me as a friend or as a boyfriend. What matters is whether or not you’re comfortable with me. I didn’t fall in love with your attraction. I fell in love with you.”

“You fell in love with Bradley,” he corrected. “Not me.”

Regardless of how tempting the offer was and how curious he was to see the extent of his human capabilities, it’d only be an experiment. A trial run of a relationship with someone who was only willing because he was still attached to the person Bagley no longer was. It would be cruel to take advantage of Arthur’s hope for his own curiosity— no different from what Skye did to Bradley. He might’ve had his human body stripped from him, but he still had his humanity.

“Arthur, I’m not Bradley,” he said. “And I know it’s hard to accept, but I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

[justanotherghostwriter]

Author interview tag!

tagged by Her Majesty, @agentcalliope

Name: Ghosty/Ghostie/You there/mate/dude/my guy/giiiirl.

Fandom(s): I have written for FMA:B, ATLA, The Hunger Games, Doctor Who (only RTD era), The Greatest Showman, Agent Carter, the MCU and Child Soldiers Breaking Hearts Animorphs, and I’ve stuck my toe into Stranger Things and Six of Crows. There are more things I’m into but I haven’t written for, but it will take a long time to list them all. :P

Where you post: A03, mostly. Sometimes I cross-post A03 links here on Tumblr, sometimes I write request drabbles directly to Tumblr.

Most popular oneshot: Going off kudos alone -  Until You Stop Hiding, I’ll Hide With You, a fic written back when the MCU fandom still had Found Family aspirations for the Avengers team. Basically, the team rescue Tony and find out that the arc reactor isn’t a stick-on. (This information surprised me, by the way. I didn’t think that it would be my most popular by far.)

By comments alone - Battles After War, my first and (so far!) only ATLA fic. The Fire Nation becomes a democracy, but Zuko goes missing after the election, and the Gaang get their protective badass faces on.

Most popular multichapter fic:  In both kudos and comments: Storge. An alternate POV/mirror fic/fanfic of a fanfic I wrote for a ‘five times plus one’ The Greatest Showman fanfiction that got entirely out of hand. About 20k out of hand. It’s (mostly) Charity’s POV to all the times P.T. was the best circus dad, but to his own detriment.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: I have a strange relationship with my writing, and this answer may change several times before the end of this week. At the time of answering this, though, I think it may be For Whom The Bell Tolls, which is a canon-divergent Hunger Games fic that follows the books exactly except that Peeta can see, talk to, and help ‘pass on’ ghosts. Mediator and ghost stories have been my fave since I was a wee tween girl (any The Mediator or Anna Dressed in Blood fans hollaaaa!) and I love Peeta so much as a character and I’m very interested in this kind of trope/dynamic, where every skill/magic/whatever comes at a very discernable cost. It just worked so well as a concept for The Hunger Games, and the fic pretty much wrote itself, and there isn’t actually much I wish I could change, when I look back at it, which is a great feeling for me.

(Close second place is Mavet, because my boy Jake Berenson still owns so much of my heart, and I still find myself yearning for an extended/better executed/more in-depth version of Elfangor’s Secret.) 

Fic you were nervous to post: Every single one of them, lmao. xD Giftfic especially. Fic of other people’s fanfic/set in other people’s worlds especially especially. What if they don’t like it? What if I mess it up? That will be disastrous, because the reason I’m ficcing their fic is because I love it too much for my heart to contain. Messing up something I love that much is probably what my Boggart would become, tbh. (Does the fear stop my trash producing self? Not in the slightest! Insanity and doing the same thing over and over, and all that.)

(I will say, Battles After War was supposed to be much longer and delve into a lot of things that made me so nervous I took them all out. I’m probably going to add to the taken-out bits and post them as a second chapter, eventually, but it’s taking a lot of motivating self-talk to put it out there, because it deals with politics and what I, personally, feel are areas of Aang’s growth that canon didn’t address well enough and I know how very easily I can be blinded by my own prejudices and do those themes a great disservice, and, also, how that can potentially hurt and anger readers.)

How you choose your titles: If you can figure this out, please let me in on the secret. I always panic because it’s untitled by the time I have to post it and I just... Sometimes songs. Sometimes words from different languages, because I’m a linguistics nerd. Sometimes just the overall theme of the fic. Sometimes the prompt it was based on. Its a luckybag grab journey that I undertake each time.

Do you outline? Oh, yes. Every fic that’s longer than 1k always gets a skeleton written out first. Then I go back and fill in the skeleton. Some places have dialogue already. Others just have ‘they talk about xyz, and he says and then she says’. But I need to have a very clear scaffolding before I can start ‘colouring in’, if you were. And, actually, all the written skeleton stuff is just a writing down of the detailed scenes and things I’ve imagined in my head while doing the dishes or walking to the shops, or something. xD

Complete: I’ve completed 48 fic on A03, so far! Whoo! And a number of drabbles straight to Tumblr.

á̵̧̨̛͕̭̲͍̘͒̐̇̾̀̇͘ň̷̛̯̔d̷̛͕̺̹̣̈̾̂̾́͐͗̽ ̸̧̨̫͚͇͕̇̐̅͌̈́̆̈̚̚͜p̴̨͎̱͍̩͕̜̱̍̏̒͐͝͠ĕ̶̢̲̮̬̜̖̀̿o̸̹̠͔̠̘̩̎̓̂̎̀̏́̆͠p̸̧͓͇̘̎l̶̪̗̮̗̟̗̿̇͌̈͂͗ẽ̷̡̧͈̔̎͊'̸̘̘̗̭͐̄͂̄̑š̴͙͒̆̓̚ ̸̨̻̮̝̞̲͈̘̀̈́̒̒̕͠ͅi̴͎̮̼͇̤̬͗̃̈́͛͂̚̕͘͠ņ̵̮̥͚͉͔̞͗͊̉̉̑̀̋̓b̸̹̻̠̗͎̲̺̥̟͊̎͛͒̐̓͗̏͂ô̶̟͓͖͕̰͕x̸̘̋̾̍́ȇ̶͔s̴̱̼͇̮͖̞̪̈́̂̈́̔̆͜,̸̮͖̟̥̱͙̔̑͘͜ ̴̛̙̖͈͎̻̭̗̖̀̎̃ǫ̸̗̻̦͙͔͎̠̼͐̔̋n̸̪̗̬͆̀͊̄͘ ̵͍͖̞̳͍̞̈́̉a̶̛̜͍ͅn̷̡̹͕̥̱̤̾͒͋͑̈͑́̈́͝ͅǫ̸̠̩̯̫͉͍̞̌̈́̈́̈́̀n̷̬͌̓́̒̎͋̾͘.

In progress: *quiet sobbing* It has been a year, and I still haven’t finished chapter two of Lessons Worth Learning, which is a post-series FMA:B fic. Chapter two, entitled ‘Recovery’, has been outlined for eleven months. And just... sitting there. Also see the above mini-rant about the possible (probable?) chapter two of Battles After War. 

Coming soon/not yet started: Dear gosh, dear soul, dear help. I have, not including the two mentioned above, six outlines for fic sitting on my computer. 🙃 🙃 🙃 I don’t know when those are actually going to see the light of day. I do know that I’ve signed up for one FMA and one ATLA holiday gift exchange, and those are going to be written, because they’re gifts and have a deadline and I love the holidays more than I am wary about my writing. Plus I’ll have more time. Or, at the very least, not need to be as awake during the day, so I can stay up super late writing. Two of those six are playing in Casey’s and Meagan’s sandboxes, because I have not gotten over my obsession with them or their fic, yet.

Do you accept prompts? I do! As you can see from the above, I have a backlog of fic that makes me weep inside. But, also, 50% of why I write is to get joy through giving other people joy, so I will never be able to close my askbox, I don’t think.

Upcoming work that you’re most excited about: Those good holiday-cheer-spreading giftworks that I’ll get the prompts for soon!

Tagging the following people: Yo, @thephilosophersapprentice and @skiewrites, @x-rainflame-x and @ruinsofxerxes - you wanna?