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guardianofthepeanutwrites · 4 years ago

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Skirts and dresses Part 4

Part1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 5

Tag list: @purplefreakwolffish @mayucerise

This chapter is for @sarcastich and @starkeraddictbaby

Thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-reading!

CW: genderfluid Loki, Kinda asshole Thor

PeterParkerBingo2021: square Pet Names (card below)

Thor & Loki

Because Peter had been fairly young when he moved inside the compound, they had put his room next to Tony’s quarters since he was the one in charge of their youngest member. Then one day a door appeared in the middle of his room, connecting it to the Stark’s private quarters. They had a long discussion about boundaries: “Ask before putting doors in my bedroom” and “don’t threaten people because they hurt me” etc. Tony had argued it was easier (it was, but that was not the question) because they spend more and more time together. Which was true.

Tony and Pepper had started to teach Peter some things about business practice. They took him to smaller meetings and introduced him as Tony’s intern; it suited Peter very much. That, plus his patrols, as well as other Avenger business, like training, and his new business classes...Peter was now even busier than he already was.

Except on Sundays. Sundays were days Peter could rest, sleep, visit his aunt May, hang with Ned and MJ, and watch movies with Bucky the other Avengers.

Every Sunday morning, before leaving their quarters, Peter and Tony would eat the most decadent brunch that Peter would let Tony buy him. From all the changes that happened in his life since he got adopted by Tony Stark, Sunday brunches were certainly Peter’s favorites. He loved those calm moments with the man that he admired so much. He also loved that he could put on whatever clothes he wanted because FRIDAY would only let people in the know enter.

That Sunday, they were finishing their meal when Steve entered. He briefly stopped at the soft pink hoodie, gray and pink plaid skirt, and long white socks Peter was wearing before dismissing it and greeting the two men.

“So, Steve, what can we do for you?” Tony asked, forgoing the pleasantries. Peter knew Tony hated being interrupted during Sunday brunches, and saw that Steve started to move from one leg to the other, a bit nervous. Peter frowned.

“Oh, I-I mean, I wanted to apologize for-” Peter tried to interrupt Steve, he had told him many times that Steve was forgiven, but the man was stubborn and didn’t let him talk. “I know, you already told me, but I- I made this for you.” Steve gave Peter a piece of paper.

On the paper was a beautiful drawing of Peter in the purple dress that he had been wearing when Steve had discovered his secret. Peter was startled out of his stunned silence when his dad gently took the paper from his hands.

Tony simply whistled when he saw the drawing. “Aunt Peggy had told me you could draw, Rogers, but this is something else.” Steve looked at Tony, in shock.

“Au-Aunt Peggy? But you-you weren’t-”

Tony snorted, irked. “I went to her grave later, Rogers, because there was an emergency, and if there was something Aunt Peggy could understand, it was emergencies. She was Howard’s friend, and my godmother.” Peter, who had been told the story, silently stroked his dad’s back in support as he continued. “We also fought a lot when you came back.” Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Tony didn’t let him. “Not that it’s any of your business, Capsicle, but who do you think covered the truth about Howard’s death? Who do you think had enough power for that? Peggy Carter. She let me think my father killed my mom because he was a fucking alcoholic.”

Steve looked as if he had swallowed a lemon, grimacing. “I didn’t know. I am sorry, Tony.”

Tony lifted his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He lifted the paper with Steve’s drawing on it, looking at it pensively. “You’re very talented. We should make you an art studio. There is an empty room with great lighting.” Tony turned to Peter to watch him. “What d’you think kid? Wanna design it?”

Peter felt excited to be offered this opportunity; he nodded with way too much enthusiasm. It made Tony smile, proud.

“You’re gonna make some blueprints, and we will see with the Captain what he needs and likes. No, Cap, don’t argue, it will be good training for the kid. Now, Steve, if you don’t mind, I was having brunch with my kid.”

Peter only had 30 seconds to thank Steve for the drawing and promise him he would make the best art studio there was before Steve left. After Brunch, Peter framed the drawing and put it on his shelf with the piece of his first skirt and the picture of his dad in a dress.

Later that day, while Peter and Tony were looking at a movie, before heading out for a diner with Aunt May, someone crashed into their quarters through the window.

Tony was ready to fight in seconds; his watch changed into a piece of armor around his right fist, while his left arm pushed Peter behind him, only to find that it was Thor, son of Odin, that had crashed on the ground. Peter couldn’t help but find it kind of cute that his dad would try to protect Peter with his body when Peter could take the most damage.

“For fuck’s sake, Point Break, what the ever-loving fuck?” Tony let the gauntlet recede back into his watch and put his hand on his heart. “I have a heart condition, you know? And we have doors. FRI, baby, tell everyone in the compound there is no immediate emergency. Put the compound in code orange until further notice,” Tony turned to look at Peter, seeing the pink skirt, the hoodie, and the panicked glances his kid was giving, then added, “Tell them there is no need to come and lock the quarters immediately.”

Peter relaxed some and started to play with the hem of his skirt.

“I apologize, Man of Iron. It seems like I missed the door.” Thor stood up from where he had crashed, and he opened his arms to hug Tony. “It has been too long my friend. How are you doing?” Tony frowned, but he let the god hug him.

After they separated, Tony started to give instructions to FRIDAY for the reparations while Thor turned to look at Peter. There were a few seconds where Thor paused to take in how Peter was dressed before he widened his eyes.

Before Peter could react, Thor bowed deeply before speaking. “Good day, Lady Peter.”

Peter winced. Why would he be a lady? Just because he was wearing a skirt?

“I-I, no, Thor. I-I am a man.” Peter hated how his voice shivered.

Thor righted himself, beaming at Peter as if nothing had just happened. “Good, how are you doing Man of Spiders?”

Peter looked at the god, completely lost by what had just happened. “I-I am fine? Thank you, mister Thor,” Peter said with a small voice.

The god nodded happily. “I am happy to hear that.” Thor promptly turned to Tony. “Man of Iron, I am in great need of a favor.”

Tony scowled looking at the damage. “Is it more important than repairing the hole in my wall?”

Thor’s face became serious in a blink, making Peter shiver. “I am afraid it is really important, my friend,” Thor said in a deep voice.

The meeting had been going on for hours, and Peter was exhausted.

Thor wanted their help to get some information out of his brother Loki. The Asgardians had a reason to think that Loki hadn’t been the one behind the invasion and could even have been a victim of the scepter like Barton and the others, but Loki wouldn’t talk. Thor hoped that maybe someone on Earth could help them because they had tried everything.

The news was welcomed by an uproar, led by Hawkeye and Fury, and had calmed down after Thor had explained that if his fears were correct, there was something worse coming to Earth. He also promised that they wouldn’t need to bring Loki for them to interrogate him and that there was a magic mirror they could use to talk to him.

It was decided the mirror would be locked in Tony’s lab, the most secure room at the compound.

However, they all forgot Peter had unlimited access to the room.

The first time Peter saw Loki, Peter was walking along the glass walls of the main lab. He could see Natasha and Maria Hill looking frustrated at a mirror. In the mirror, there was a gorgeous woman with long, raven black hair; she had piercing green eyes, green lipstick, and she was wearing a stunning, black leather dress.

If Peter hadn’t been gay, and stupidly in love attracted to Bucky, he knew that he could have fallen for this beautiful lady.

Then his brain started to work again and realization clicked: The woman was Loki. Loki was wearing (and rocking) a dress. He looked like a woman, but how? When she/he/the God of Mischief saw Peter, they winked. Peter startled and simply walked faster to the B-Lab where Bruce was waiting for him.

Peter couldn’t get Loki out of his mind. The God didn’t look uncomfortable wearing a dress or looking like a woman in front of his enemies.

After some days, Peter decided to go to the main source of information about Loki: Thor.

“Oh, yes, Loki sometimes, uhm, switches? Mother always said to respect the gender he looks like, but you know that Loki is my brother, so it was difficult at first.” Thor massaged his neck, uneasy. “But then, Loki started to play vicious pranks on the people who would call him a man when he was dressed like a woman. So, I learned to, uh, call Loki a lady when he wears a dress.”

And then Peter understood. “That's why you called me a lady the other day!”

Thor nodded. “But luckily you don’t ask me to call you a woman.”

Peter frowned. “Why do you say luckily? I mean, I don’t think there is anything wrong with asking someone to call you a woman if… you feel like a woman?” Thor, confused, looked at Peter and was about to reply, but Tony (since when had he been in the room?) answered first, making Peter and Thor startle.

“No, there is nothing wrong, Peter. Loki is genderfluid, which means that they don’t identify themself as having a fixed gender.” Tony, who was at the door, walked into the room and up to Peter. “We asked Loki and he said you could use the pronouns depending on what he looks like. It’s easier because Loki is a shifter, and can change depending on his moods. But if you ever meet another genderfluid person, you can just ask them what gender they identify with at that moment.”

Peter nodded. It made sense.

Thor looked a bit crushed when he started to speak again. “So, it’s not only Loki?” Tony simply shook his head. “Oh. I think I need to talk to my br-Loki.” With those words, the god left the room.

Peter did some research about genders - Tony helped - and he concluded that he was a man that liked to cross-dress and that there was nothing wrong with that. Peter had felt very loved that his dad, who was always so busy, had taken the time to explain all of those terms to Peter until they found the ones that felt right.

But Peter was a curious person, and it was what led him to be bitten by a radioactive spider in the first place... Peter wanted to talk to Loki. He wanted to talk about the dress, and about being genderfluid. He knew that the god was not a good being, but Loki was already in prison. What could go wrong?

“The mighty Avengers are sending me a child, now? Interesting.” Loki’s bitter words made Peter flinch. Peter silently closed the door behind him, before he entered the lab.

“No. I- I mean, I am an Avenger, but they didn’t send me.” Peter nervously played with the plaid shirt he was wearing that day.

“Then why are you here?”

Peter lifted his head and looked directly at Loki for the first time. He noted that Loki was in a male form.

“I learned that you are genderfluid. I- I just wanted to talk.”

Loki’s face softened a little bit. “Oh, yes. People of Midgard have been strangely open-minded about it.” His face then hardened again. “What do you want? Do you want to see the shift? Do you want me to become a female?”

Peter winced.

“What? No! Only if it’s what you want. But, no, who would want you to do that? You’re not some kind of animal.” Peter was horrified, just thinking about it. Loki huffed but said nothing, watching Peter with piercing eyes. Peter took a deep breath and gathered his courage. “I-I like to wear dresses. It is called cross-dressing here.”

Loki looked at Peter like he was analyzing Peter’s very soul. “Why are you telling me this, human?” he seemed perplexed.

“I saw you in that dress the last time, and you were gorgeous. I mean, that dress, it looked like it had been made just for you.” Peter couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice. Loki raised an eyebrow, but Peter could see that he was fighting a smile.

“That would be because it was crafted for me. I am a prince of Asgard, little one.” The reply was unexpected, and Peter felt his eyes open with shock that was rapidly replaced by glee.

“Oh yes, my da- Mr. Stark let a tailor come to the tower, and he wanted to tailor some things, but I wasn't ready yet. Mr. Stark said that the man could come back later. ”

Loki didn’t fight his smile this time.

“And why weren’t you ready, yet, dear?”

Peter and Loki talked a big part of the night until Peter started to yawn too much, then Loki sent him to his room. As days went on, after his patrol and doing some homework, Peter visited every night to talk about stuff with Loki.

“By the Norns! Dear Spider, why would you not simply tell the man that you want him?” Loki asked, sitting against the wall of his prison.

“What? No! He doesn’t feel that way about me,” Peter answered stubbornly while painting his nails with a green nail polish that had been approved by Loki.

“You won’t know until you try, dear.” Peter shrugged and changed the subject.

Of course, after a visit one night, they were discovered. While Tony and Natasha (and Bucky) hadn’t been really happy about it, there was nothing they could do or say to change Peter’s mind.

“You what?” Peter asked, dumbfounded.

“I stabbed the mongrel,” Loki answered, way too smugly if you asked Peter.

“Because he slapped your ass? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Oh my sweet, sweet, little Spider. If you let men get away with unwanted touching, they will think it is alright to do it again and again. No one should dare touch a lady like that without consequences.” Loki played with the knife that had been in his hand since they started to talk that day.

“Yes, but still, Thor is your brother.” Peter never had had a sibling, but if he had, he wouldn’t have stabbed them, for sure.

“After that, neither Thor, nor any of the savages he called ‘friends’, ever touched me without my consent.” The smile Loki sent his way made Peter shiver.

“Yeah, ok, fair.” The god did heal fast, so Peter guessed that it was okay-ish.

Peter had been surprised when a raven had given Peter two identical letters one morning after breakfast. He was even more surprised when the letters ended up being Loki’s complete confession. One had been addressed to ‘The Mighty Avengers’ and the other to ‘Sweet Spider’.

Loki explained how he had fallen into Thanos’ lap after the destruction of the rainbow bridge; he mentioned the torture, the scepter, and how the beating that the Hulk gave him had helped him evade his conditioning. He also laid out Thanos' strengths and weaknesses, including how and when to beat him.

At the end, Loki wrote that he would never have written his confession if it weren’t for Peter.

Peter then took the last page, where Loki had drawn them both and had it framed to be placed on his beloved shelf.

#peterparkerbingo2021 #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #peter parker #winterspider #5+1 things #still 6+1 tho #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #skirts and dresses

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years ago

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Episode Spotlight: M*A*S*H, Season 1, Episode 17: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

Frank Burns throws his back out and applies for a Purple Heart. Meanwhile, Hawkeye Pierce meets, and later operates on, an old friend and struggles with the decision of whether or not to send an underaged soldier home.

More than halfway through season 1, M*A*S*H wasn’t exactly killing in the ratings. The show wasn’t quite sure of itself yet, with tons of recurring characters that would end up dropped and other characters not yet added to the main cast. Airing at eight o’clock on Sunday nights, M*A*S*H was, at this stage in the game, a relatively normal sitcom, albeit one with a bit sharper sense of humor.

That all changed with Sometimes You Hear the Bullet.

I’ll show you what I mean.

The episode starts humorously enough: Major Frank Burns throws his back out during a rendezvous with Major Houlihan. He is placed into traction, where he applies for a Purple Heart for his ‘injury’. Meanwhile, Hawkeye is visited by an old friend and kindred irreverent spirit: Corporal Tommy Gillis, a journalist who signed up for the front lines as he writes his book: You Never Hear the Bullet, a book meant to be written from a soldier’s point of view, instead of a reporter’s.

A helicopter full of wounded arrive at the unit, and Gillis returns to his post.

Among the wounded is a young man with a burst appendix, a Private Wendell Petersen, who is very anxious to get back to the front lines. Hawkeye tells him that he has to rest for a few days before returning to his unit. This doesn’t stop Wendell from attempting to steal an army jeep to try to get back, afraid that he was going to be sent home.

After talking with him, Hawkeye figures out the truth: Wendell Petersen is actually Walter Peterson, and he’s not even sixteen years old.

It turns out that Walter posed as his brother, Wendell, and entered the war to impress his girlfriend back home by returning with a medal. He begs Hawkeye to keep his secret, and, after returning him to his bed, Hawkeye agrees.

Shortly, more wounded arrive, and among them is Tommy Gillis. Hawkeye operates on him, but even his best is not enough, and he dies on the operating table after telling Hawkeye that he did hear the bullet. Hawkeye tries to revive him, but Colonel Henry Blake orders him to move on to save another life.

Afterwards, Hawkeye breaks down crying.

“Henry, I know why I’m crying now. Tommy was my friend, and I watched him die, and I’m crying. I’ve watched guys die almost every day. Why didn’t I ever cry for them?”

“Because you’re a doctor.”

Hawkeye asks what that means, and Henry answers with one of the greatest lines in the show’s history.

“I don’t know. If I had the answer, I’d be at the Mayo Clinic. Does this place look like the Mayo Clinic? Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. And rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can’t change rule number one.”

Right then and there, Hawkeye decides to change rule number one in some small way, and calls the MPs on Private Wendell, really Walter, outing the fact that he’s underage. Walter, outraged, tells Hawkeye that he’ll never forgive Hawkeye for the rest of his life.

Hawkeye replies: “Let’s hope it’s a long and healthy hate.”

In one final scene (one that’s usually cut from syndication), Henry Blake begins to present Frank with his Purple Heart, only to find it replaced with a purple earring, while outside, Hawkeye pins the Purple Heart on Walter to make up for turning him in, sending him home, but home a hero.

The end.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet is considered one of M*A*S*H’s best episodes for a reason. This is an early episode, one that is regarded as a tone and trend setter for the rest of the series in terms of both storyline balance (one or two serious plotlines, one humorous), and content itself, one of the first episodes to sit down and truly explore the characters within this tragic situation. At this moment, M*A*S*H ceased being a comedy show and became a dramedy, with one of the most memorable moments and exchanges in the show’s long history.

While this episode may seem like a standard half-hour of television, at the time, especially for this show, it was something different. It was no longer a slapstick grittier Hogan’s Heroesque irreverent comedy about soldiers, it was a show about a group of people stuck in the middle of a war, with death all around them. And no matter how good Hawkeye, or any of the doctors, are at their jobs, they’ll never be able to save everyone.

It’s sobering, but it’s a truth that the show had, for the first time, truly explored, and it’s that initial exploration, that glimmer of what this show was going to become, that puts this episode under so much recognition: Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was the warning sign, the first moment that the writers got a handle on the show that would become a classic.

Of course, it has it’s problems.

Not tonal ones, at least, not exactly. Throughout its entire run, M*A*S*H often had two or three plots going, one serious, one humorous. This is a smart strategy: balance out the dark with the light, giving each episode a more even feeling instead of being too much one or the other. Although the show would get darker and more serious as time went on, the writers never abandoned this plan, allowing M*A*S*H to remain a consistent dramedy throughout the show’s run, keeping the audience laughing and crying at the same time.

In the case of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, the ‘funny’ subplot is obvious: Frank Burns and his Purple Heart. The other two storylines are the serious ones: Hawkeye’s friend, as well as the underaged soldier. However, in most cases, as in this one, these plotlines inevitably intersect, and it’s here that this particular episode might cause a few problems.

I mentioned that the final scene in the episode is typically cut from syndication: the sequence where Frank’s purple heart is stolen and given to the underaged soldier, instead. While this scene may not, at first, seem inherently out of place within the context of the rest of the episode, swinging from comedy to drama within a minute, there are those who believe that this scene unintentionally undermines the rest of the episode, or the main thrust established a few moments earlier.

And those people aren’t exactly wrong.

I certainly agree that the episode would have been stronger had it ended with the soldier’s final interaction with Hawkeye been proclaiming his hatred, only for Hawkeye to soberly respond that he hopes it’s a long and healthy hate. Changing that to this new ending, where Hawkeye sends him home with a medal, seems almost out of character for Hawkeye, taking away some of the sincerity and severity of the message just a moment earlier. The idea that this soldier could bring himself to forgive Hawkeye so soon, before realizing what exactly he’d been saved from, seems a little disingenuous after the weight previously given to this subplot.

In later episodes, it’s possible, even probable that this episode wouldn’t have ended tied in such a neat bow. But that’s one of the things that’s so interesting about this episode.

Sometimes You Hear the Bullet isn’t the first episode of ‘true’ M*A*S*H as it would be remembered in the future, but it is the first episode where M*A*S*H comes into its own themes, looking hard at war, and the toll it takes not only on the soldiers, but on the surgeons, as well. Before this, for the most part, ‘characters’, friends of the cast, did not die on the operating table. Not when Hawkeye could save him.

But I’m going to quote Hawkeye from another season 1 M*A*S*H episode, Yankee Doodle Doctor, as I think that it sums up this the point of this episode pretty well:

“Three hours ago, this man was in a battle. Two hours ago, we operated on him. He’s got a 50-50 chance. We win some, we lose some. That’s what it’s all about. No promises. No guaranteed survival. No saints in surgical garb. Our willingness, our experience, our technique are not enough. Guns, and bombs, and anti-personnel mines have more power to take life than we have to preserve it. Not a very happy ending for a movie. But then, no war is a movie.”

That right there is the point of Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, to the point where the doomed Tommy Gillis even references the film tropes of a young, fresh-faced kid hearing the bullet that kills him. This is the message that Hawkeye must grapple with: he cannot save everyone.

No matter how much he knows, how good he is, he can never save everyone. No guaranteed survival.

It’s sobering, but it’s the truth. And it’s what makes this episode so memorable.

M*A*S*H at this point was still mostly a comedy, a series full of jokes and the occasional serious moment, and it would continue to be so for another few years. But it was this episode, episode seventeen of the first season, that signaled to audiences that this show could be more than that. It could make you laugh, sure, but it could make you cry, and it wasn’t that surprising: this was war.

In short: by itself, is Sometimes You Hear the Bullet one of the greatest episodes of television, or even M*A*S*H, ever written? Maybe. Maybe not. But what it is, without much doubt, is the first sign of maturity in a show that had a lot of growing up to do.

Whether the shift was instantaneous or not, the fact is, Sometimes You Hear the Bullet was a game changer in the show’s history, the first break in format that truly showed audiences what they could expect in the years ahead.

On top of that? It’s just a good episode.

The plot balance is decent, without too much mood-whiplash that could so easily occur in a war dramedy. The characters, decently familiar to audiences by now, all work off of each other just as well as ever, funny, interesting, and heartfelt in turn. It’s an example of early M*A*S*H at it’s best, overshadowing many first season episodes with a level of depth previously mostly unexplored, delivering on every scene and remaining mostly genuine. It’s an engaging episode, full of memorable moments that are thoughtful and earnest, making this episode a standout, a moment in television history, and an unmissable installment for avid watchers of M*A*SH, and television fans in general.

Don’t forget that the comment box is always open for anything from suggestions and discussion ideas to questions and conversations! Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope to see you guys in the next article.

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bluebeetle · 3 years ago

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what IS the worst character assassination youve ever seen? i can think of some guesses but its a long list

its a VERY long list....

1) the time cassandra was evil and could also suddenly speak perfectly when she was previously struggling. it makes no sense. so much of her character was built on doing the right thing and not wanting to kill. it was so fucking stupid and im glad its long forgotten

2) whatever the fuck jason was doing in battle for the cowl and batman and robin 2009. some of it was ok in the latter but the former... he just went full evil villain without any of the nuance he had before. also red head jason my detested

3) wanda wanda wanda wanda. she gets this so many times. her in trial of magneto where shes calling erik daddy and stuff despite not knowing that man was her dad until she was a married adult woman.

avengers disassembled where she went ~~~crazy~~~ and killed a bunch of people.

house of m with the no more mutants thing. just yikes yikes yikes. they tried to fix it later by saying she was influence by dark magic and stuff and doctor doom played a role but then that got ignored.

she's still blamed for house of m by the xmen and other mutants even NOW where they all hate her still despite it that story literally being 15 years old

4) any time bruce is abusive and hits his kids. what the fuck. bonus points to all star batman and robin for being so bad at that, its acgtually kinda funny. he made dick eat RATS in a CAVE the DAY HIS PARENTS DIED IN FRONT OF HIM after calling him the r slur

5) damian almost being turned evil after teen titans 2016 and stuff; it got fixed thank god but hes been written like he has to redeem himself for it and that racist writing ugh

6) speaking of: talia going from a loving, caring person who hadnt even killed until she met bruce and did it in self defense, who sacrified her own happiness to make sure her child was safe and away from her father, who had morals and loved bruce to a scornful woman assassin who kills people indiscriminately, abuses her child, rapes the man she claims to love, and continues to meddle with his "real" love because shes jealous, and then clones her own son and gets that clone to murder her 11 year old, also has sex with bruce's 18 yr old son who she was taking care of.

yikes

7) trickster in countdown. why is he suddenly homophobic. he and pied piper have known each other for years, theyre both old silver age flash villains. pied piper was not quiet about being gay even back in the 90s. he interacted with trickster multiple times during that flash run prior to countdown. why does trickster suddenly make homophobic jokes. answer me dan didio. ANSWER ME

8) catch all for any bad live action versions. like. everything about mcu hawkeye is a crime agaisnt hawkeye. i mean other mcu characters suck but i feel bad for him bc he usually doesnt get that treatment. jason in titans. the mcu maximoffs. stripping loki of being nonbinary and bi.

9) why did wally become a mass murdered in heroes in crisis and then try to cover it up. i know it wasnt murdering on purpose ig but also it was just a bad storyline ugh.

10) akihiro being stripped of all personality to be the slutty bi guy in x-factor. die.

anyways notice how half of these are characters of colour? yeah tip of the iceberg lol. anyways....

#txt #marvel #dc

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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It’s You and Me - Chapter 8

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1724

Rating: E

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 9: Then

“Welcome to the ring, the man who can’t miss - Hawkeye!”

The crowd cheered and Clint cantered his horse out into the ring, he climbed up, so he was standing and waved to the crowd as he did a lap.

“And the girl he can’t seem to hit, Sugar Snap!”

You rode out, first flipping off the front of your horse and then back on again, before bringing your horse up beside his, so the two of you were riding, standing up, side-by-side. “Ready?” Clint said.

“Always,” you replied.

You sat back down and spurred the horse on. As you took the lead on Clint, you collected your bow and an arrow from one of the clowns standing at the side of the ring. Clint did the same as he passed them and watched as you got into the handstand position on your moving horse. The crowd went deadly silent as you knocked your arrow with your feet, Clint got into the same position. You loosed the arrow as you passed the target, hitting it dead center. The crowd erupted in applause but before it even reached its peak, Clint loosed his arrow with his feet and it hit yours, splitting the shaft right down the middle.

The crowd went berserk. You and Clint, both vaulted off your horses and landed side by side in the middle of the ring, your arms raised. You bowed together, first to one side of the crowd and then the other, soaking in the applause.

You were 18 now, and the act was flawless. The ringmaster always had you opening these days, and it had been a long time since anyone had approached either of you about doing any of their criminal dealings. There had been an incident a year back where Clint had discovered Jacques with a load of stolen money and when he’d gone to turn the swordsman in, Jacques attempted to kill him. Clint had ended up with two broken legs, and his brother Barney had left the circus to go to college to get away from everything the circus was not long after that. He had asked Clint to go with him, but Clint had been so high on this rush of what he could only call fame, that there was no way he could let it go now.

Besides, he had Eden and he knew that if he left the circus it would mean leaving her too and he was not willing to do that.

Some of the clowns brought the rest of the equipment in and Clint put his quiver on his back and grabbed his bow. The next part of the act was about precision archery, acrobatics, perfect timing, and making sure he selected the correct arrow for each shot.

He turned and aimed an arrow so it looked as if it was aiming at you, but was in fact aiming at a small target stuck to one of the tent poles just next to the audience. Close enough that they could all see how he hit the target and that it would feel like they were at risk, but not so close that there was in any risk at all.

You ran backward and did a backflip, just as you launched yourself up off the ground, Clint loosed the arrow and it sailed under you, hitting the center of the target with a thud as you landed back on your feet. You began to run around the outside of the arena, and he loosed arrow after arrow in front of you, and you flipped over each one again and again, to the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the crowd while each arrow hit the target perfectly.

When you reached the target board, Clint changed the arrows. He began to loose them so each hit about a foot apart and a foot higher than the last, forming steps up the board. You climbed them as they hit, so it appeared as if you were stepping into the air and he was catching you with the arrows. When you reached the high wire platform above, Clint moved into a different routine.

He hit moving targets, including pinning three small targets that swung down from three different directions and pinning them together with one arrow. He hit targets while he was flipping from one platform to another. All the while soaking in the attention from the crowd. Above him, you were getting into a harness that would only be visible to the keenest of eyes.

When you were secure, you began dropping things on him. He started by quickly loosing arrows, sometimes three or four at a time, and pinning each item you dropped to a different target around the tent. Then he switched, dropping his bow and arrow and picking up a sword, as each item fell from above he sliced it in half.

A few of the clowns came out with big trench coats on and carrying umbrellas. You began dropping water balloons on them and while everyone was distracted, Clint put on his special trenchcoat and hat. It was the one designed for the finale of the routine. It had a locking mechanism in the arm that allowed him to catch you on the blade of a sword without his arm jerking on impact.

A huge bag of confetti dropped and exploded, queuing the clowns to scatter. You dropped a few more things down on him, letting Clint use his left arm to slice them in two, to show the crowd that the sword was real and not blunt.

Then you jumped. You spun in the air, corkscrewing down toward him, he brandished his sword, and when you hit the springboard, you jumped up and flipped. Clint switched hands and lunged forward, the elbow mechanism locking in place so the flat of the blade was facing up. You landed on it, sending a shock through his arm. Everyone clapped and you curtsied while standing on the blade. Clint moved to grab you in a large over-exaggerated way and you backflipped catching the brim of his hate with your toe and flipping it off his head. You landed and ran forward, catching the hat on your head.

The crowd erupted, everyone getting to their feet and cheering for you both. You helped Clint off with his coat and both of you bowed as your horses cantered back into the ring. You each ran to your horse and vaulted onto it’s back, taking a lap. Maynard entered the ring with his whip and took his spot on a podium in the middle as the clowns rushed in and cleaned up. “Let’s hear it again, for Hawkeye and Sugar Snap!’

The crowd applauded more and Clint followed you out of the ring. “And now, our very own Garden of Eden!” Maynard called, and Eden ran out past Clint, winking as she passed him.

Clint got off his horse and rolled his shoulders as you approached him. “I think I need to work on that first jump. I felt that arrow,” you said.

“You always say that, and I always tell you it’s in your head,” Clint teased. He walked over to the lip of the curtain and looked out at Eden as she did her contortion act. You stepped up beside him.

“Just before I came out, Jacques approached her and said something about some art job,” you said.

Clint bristled. He’d been hearing rumors about an art job for the past few days. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, mostly because he just tried to steer clear of all of that. There had definitely been a meeting with some art guy and the Ringmaster. Clint had remembered seeing the bald man with his black turtleneck and rectangular framed glasses talking to Tiboldt about the circus performers coming to some art museum as part of a charity gig. “She’s probably going to be part of that charity gig.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

Clint turned and looked at you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” you said, though he wasn’t convinced.

Clint had managed to get you to legal age without any more explicit photos being taken, but he knew Jacques still had a habit of sniffing around you. Barely legal wasn’t as good as illegal, but it would still make him money, and you had other things to offer now. The ability to parkour was a huge advantage to them, and you were very good with a blade. Clint knew that while the act was as good as it was, Jacques couldn’t threaten to have you kicked out, but he could offer you things and Clint wasn’t totally sure if you would always say no. Not if it was something like breaking and entering, and if this was some scam being organized by Tiboldt, then he was the boss, and if he said jump, you jumped.

“Sugar?” Clint pressed.

You huffed. “Wanted me to help him break in and help them steal some art. Said Tiboldt wanted everyone on the job.”

“Sugar!” Clint yelped.

“I said no!” You said. “Who wants a bunch of dusty old paintings anyway?”

“You think he’s trying to recruit Eden?” Clint asked.

You shrugged again. “Probably. Or Tiboldt already has and he was just passing on a message.”

Clint sighed, he wanted to believe that she wouldn’t be involved in anything like that, but love and trust were not things that were linked very strongly for him. “She wouldn't, would she?” He asked.

You shrugged again. “I dunno, Clint. You know her better than me. I do know that just about everyone else here would.”

He shook his head and stepped away from the curtain. “I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded and didn’t say anything. Just as he moved away he looked back at you. “Hey… thanks… you know…? For letting me know.”

You nodded and folded your hands over your chest. “Anytime, Clint. You know that. It’s me and you.”

Clint wasn’t so sure about that. He’d believed it before about other people who had let him down. But as he sized you up, he thought maybe of all the people in this circus he was supposed to think of as family, you might be the one that fit the description best.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #it's you and me

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sserpente · 5 years ago

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A/N: Requests from @bi-readytobakepie-cry-and-die, @walkinoxymoron, @mysticalflowerroadprune, @thenocturnalsyren and two anons. I have an order here, chips with extra fluff? Anyone? You asked for fluff, you’re getting fluff—and the chips, too. 🍟

Words: 2975 Warnings: pure fluff, sleep paralysis

You spun around when your attacker lunged, acting surprised. He had you cornered, with no way to run—or so he thought. It was a devilish smirk that curled your lips upwards when he aimed to stab the thin air surrounding your illusion as it disappeared right before his eyes. He screamed, anger and frustration getting the better of him. It was his last mistake before you pierced his head with an arrow. You used a small crossbow attached to your right wrist to shoot your enemies, usually refrained from fighting up close. You were simply not the type. Besides, you hated the feeling of blood that was not your own on your skin.

You had been hunting these people all the way to New York now. Cleopatra would be truly proud of you. But those artefacts were not only of personal value for you and your heritage but also extremely dangerous which in the wrong hands could cause a lot of damage—and the most selfish part of you, so you knew, wanted to keep them all to yourself.

There was only one of them left now and quite apparently, you had received some unknown help. You were not the only one hunting the man who was quite likely aiming to have Assassin’s Creed come to life as he climbed over every rock and piece of debris he could find to get away. Although you were grateful for their aid, you couldn’t help but wonder what it was they wanted from him.

Stopping dead in your tracks when he came to a sudden halt, you moved behind a metal barrel and observed how a woman with ginger hair and a black suit fired three shots. Not a single one missed its target. Dead. The spook was finally over. Now all you still needed was that contract hidden in one of his pockets.

“Hey, there’s another one!” The mechanical voice was coming from above you when you emerged from your hiding spot and attempted to approach the corpse. Looking up to find a man wearing a red and gold suit, you barely had the time to spin back around when another man on their team—short hair, with a bow and arrow as his weapon of choice—unceremoniously aimed at you.

“No, stop!” Your eyes widened, reflexes kicking in. You felt the familiar tingling in your body whenever you teleported, leaving an illusion behind and letting the archer’s arrow hurtling through the empty spot you had stood in less than a second ago. Rude… “I believe we are on the same side.” They jumped when you reappeared behind them.

You struggled to remember their names, purpose and story. The woman with the red hair was called Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow for short. Former assassin, she now worked with this secret organisation called SHIELD. There was Tony Stark—billionaire and Iron Man and Steve Rogers aka Captain America who spent seventy years frozen in the sea. The man who had almost killed you had you not been supernaturally gifted was called Clint Barton and sometimes Hawkeye. You were familiar with Thor of course. How could you not be? You had grown up reading about gods and goddesses… being one yourself.

“The question is… who are you?” Tony Stark had removed his suit by now and revealed an average-sized man.

“My name is (Y/N)—not a fancy superhero name, I know.”

“And you practice magic,” Thor tossed in with crossed arms.

“Magic? No. I cast illusions. My father was human, like most of you. My mother on the other end… are you familiar with the tale of Persephone and Hades?”

Tony Stark raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you’re a Greek goddess?”

“Half-goddess. I prefer the term hybrid.” You usually wore contacts to hide your true eye colour. It was much more saturated than others.

Alarmed, you turned when someone else entered the room. They had taken your crossbow from you just to be sure but to be fair, you could bring it back into your possession in the twinkling of an eye.

“Where have you been, Reindeer Games? We could have needed you out there.”

“Urgent matters.” A smooth, mysterious and dark voice stated simply—mockingly almost. While you sincerely doubted that his name really was Reindeer Games, for some peculiar reason you were dying to learn who he was. Raven hair, blue eyes and those sharp cheekbones… his clothing looked Asgardian, too. He was definitely not human. Neither were you, depending on how you looked at it.

Electricity rippled through you when your eyes met. The strange Asgardian made no move, whatsoever though, to introduce himself.

“You will be…?” You asked with a polite smile.

Natasha frowned suspiciously. “He is…”

“Loki,” he interrupted her hurriedly, dashing you a smile as he did. “Thor’s brother, I am afraid to say.” You laughed when the God of Thunder shot him a playfully hurt glance.

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Loki.”

“She lived on the moon, didn’t she?” Clint murmured.

Tony pursed his lips. “Where did you come from?”

“Egypt. I spent the last six years in Egypt.”

“Right… and what is a Greek goddess doing in Egypt?”

“Half-goddess—and I told I don’t like being called that. I was working with archaeologists and securing sacred artefacts. You know… objects like the box of Pandora.” You winked at him.

The Avengers, so they called themselves, exchanged puzzled looks—almost as if they were in on a secret you were yet to learn about.

“I see. You best stay away from… well. (Y/N), Loki is…” Clint started.

“…determined to show you around.” The God of Mischief interrupted him sharply, directing all of his attention to you. “What is it you can do then?”

“I cast illusions.”

You smirked when his eyebrows rose in an impressed manner and he offered you his arm to make you decide in that moment that you liked him.

By now, around three months had passed since you more or less joined the Avengers. They had helped you return the artefacts to Egypt and Loki… Loki and you had found yourselves spending a lot of time together and getting to know one another. He was wonderful. Intelligent, witty, mischievous and thoughtful and even quite introverted when it came to talking about his inner thoughts and feelings. There was something he was not telling you though—something that Thor too was making the Avengers keep silent about.

Whatever it was… perhaps one day, he would be ready to tell you. You were not going to pressure him into anything. You had your own skeletons in your closet—which was why you were beginning to fall in love with him—and the reason your heart almost leaped out of your chest when Steve and Thor returned without him from one of their latest missions which had entailed the words venom, dwarves and drinking water.

You had been against them wandering off on their own and without any backup, especially if something otherworldly was involved. Thor was quite megalomaniac, so you had figured. His ‘that’s what heroes do’ attitude made you want to slap him every now and then. Loki never considered himself as a hero and for some peculiar reason the Avengers never bothered to treat him as such either.

“Where is Loki?!”

They were bruised, injured and covered in blood. You did not even want to imagine what they must have dealt with. The book you had been reading flew over the sofa as you hurried to confront them.

Thor shook his head. He was still out of breath.

“We don’t know,” Steve answered you instead. “He disappeared shortly before the explosion. He might still have been in the building.”

“The explosion?!” You shrieked. “Well, why didn’t you look for him?”

“The dwarves were still there.” Dwarves. If only they were harmless. They certainly looked the part—right until they tried to scratch your eyes out with their tiny and venomous claws.

“Okay, you two, into my lab. Bruce just got back from England concerning the venom, (Y/N), you calm down. Loki goes to ground all the time.”

“Why are you all acting like he does not matter? What is wrong with you, Stark?”

“What’s wrong? He is a fucking crim—“

“Stark!” Thor roared. Indignantly, you shook your head as they hurried out of the room. “Don’t worry too much about him, (Y/N)!” You heard him yell to you. “You don’t know Loki like I do!”

This was starting to get ridiculous. But you had no time to ponder over this—you were way too worried for him, right until something crashed into the living room and broke the glass table in front of the sofa. No, not something. Someone.

“Loki!” Thank the stars. He must have teleported himself out of there. He was covered in dirt and dust, a laceration on his forehead. His blue eyes met yours for only a brief second before the adrenaline in his body died down and he fell unconscious.

The venom. Loki was an Asgardian god. If the dwarves’ venom affected him so strongly… he was sweating, too. With all your strength, you heaved him on the sofa and slid a cushion under his head. None of the other Avengers would be back anytime soon anyway.

You left for only a brief moment, returning with a wet cloth to cool his skin and clean his wound. There was nothing else you could do for him except for watching over him to make sure he healed.

“Loki… get well soon, my king.” He had told you about his desire to claim the throne, to be the first choice for once. He certainly was your king. “Get well soon so I can kiss you.”

Smiling, you gripped his hand tighter, leaning against the sofa. You had always slept like this back in Egypt. You had worked with a young archaeologist only a few years younger than yourself. Your sleep paralysis—something you had not even told Loki about just yet made it hard to restfully slumber at night. She on the other hand had had nyctophobia—fear of the dark. It had been hard to leave her behind, knowing she had become something like a sister. Since then, sleep had rarely come to you… until you had met Loki and now knew you could always spend the entire night talking to him instead.

Holding his hand now and feeling his warmth and his presence filled you with joy. Before you even knew it, you had fallen asleep next to him, kneeling on the ground. Unbeknownst to you, however, the God of Mischief had still been awake the entire time and heard every single word you had said. Kiss me? He thought—the last one before he slid back into unconsciousness.

When he woke again, you were still there, holding his hand. He smiled. It was nice, knowing that somebody cared for him. It made the pain the venom caused as it cursed through his veins a lot more bearable. Tomorrow, he figured, he would be over the worst. And then his smile suddenly disappeared. She only cares for you because she doesn’t know what you’ve done, a scornful voice in his mind whispered.

Loki clenched his fists. He rolled his eyes when he discovered Thor sneakily peeking into the room.

“What happened?” He croaked. It was an unnecessary question, really. He knew what had happened. He was just too weak to nag ‘What do you want’.

“She fell asleep over three hours ago, Loki. I tried to wake her but she refuses to leave your side.”

Loki looked him directly in the eye, his heart skipping a beat. She refuses to leave your side. “Why have you been so keen on keeping a secret from her what I did in New York?” He asked, taking his chance now that they were alone. For once, there was honest curiosity in his voice.

Thor hesitated. Then, he shrugged. “Because you were.” It was all he replied. He understood then. Just this one time, his brainless brother understood why it was so important to him to keep from you what had made him, in the Avengers’ eyes, a villain. He just wondered for how much longer he could keep up the act.

With a gentle smile, Thor turned to leave the room. “I knew you would make it out.” He added before he disappeared. Loki rolled his eyes yet again, albeit amused.

Perhaps it was wrong. He would never find peace living in constant fear that you would find out on your own and hate him like all the other Avengers did. He took a deep breath when you opened your eyes—and for the first time in a long while, he was at loss for words. What should he first say to you? Should he thank you? Ask if you had had pleasant dreams?

“Good morning, my dear.” He eventually opted; to his utter shock, however, your eyes widened. You did not move, not a single inch and yet, your eyes proved you were awake. Did you already know? Had he scared you somehow, or done something in his half-unconscious state?

Anytime now they would appear—those pitch black monsters with the long claws and the terrifying red glowing eyes. You had seen them in a film as a child and ever since then, they had become the personification of your fear. Rejection, repulsion, hatred, loneliness… they all meant to grab you. Falling asleep, you had been holding Loki’s hand, so why had your sleep paralysis returned?

The sorrow, you answered yourself. You were worrying for Loki when you fell asleep. Was he still here with you, on the sofa? You could not see him. Instead, over the backrest, crawled the first monster. It stared at you darkly, making your eyes widen in fear and then, out of the blue, another one reached for you from behind, beginning to shake you. Shake you? That was new. They usually never managed to actually touch you, you always brought yourself to wake up in time.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), are you alright?” Loki. Blinking frantically, you fought hard to move your limbs, to tense and relax your muscles repeatedly to fully wake up. When you finally did, you were met with a very concerned Loki. “What is happening to you? You started screaming at me.”

“I did? I’m sorry…” One deep breath, then two, then three. “I was… nightmare. Never mind. Are you feeling better?”

“A nightmare? That did not look like a simple nightmare.” Loki knew what nightmares looked like. He had them all the time, after all.

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to burden you with that. You seem to be having your own problems.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He spat, sitting up and putting his feet on the ground fast.

“Loki, there is obviously something you are trying to keep a secret from me.”

“So you mistrust me?” He responded with a quiet voice.

“I don’t mistrust you,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “I just feel like there is something you are not ready to tell me about yet and until then… it would be unfair to rant about my problems instead.”

Loki looked up. Regret was sparkling in his blue eyes—regret along with remorse. You do not even deserve her, the voice whispered.

“I am a criminal.” He suddenly said, the word murderer not quite leaving his lips.

“What? What are you saying?”

“A little over five years ago, I invaded this planet in an attempt to rule it. I was blinded by a promise which could never be held and betrayed not only Thor but also myself.”

“You did… what?” Your lips parted. I invaded this planet.

“It matters not. Thanos is dead now.”

“Thanos? Thanos made you do this?”

“No,” he snapped. “The sceptre, it… I killed many innocent people, (Y/N). It was only a small price to pay for the recognition I sought.” He looked you dead in the eye. “I regret making these sacrifices but at the same time… I do not.” He was torn. You could feel it burning in his stunning eyes.

“Why did you never tell me that?”

Loki scoffed scornfully. “I assumed you would despise me like everyone else if you knew. I took lives, (Y/N). I took lives for my own gain. I am not a hero, I never will be.” And he did not want to be, so you figured. You did not despise him. Quite on the contrary… you were only falling for him more and more. The pain that Thanos had inflicted on him still sat deep. He blamed himself, assuming it was no one else but him who deserved to be called evil and a villain.

Actions might comfort him more than your words could now. So you leaned in, placing your palms on his thighs for balance and tenderly pressed your lips against his. If anything, the God of Mischief was taken aback, still, the moment you joined for a hesitant kiss, his eyes fell shut. With a sigh, he cupped your face and pulled you closer, his tongue asking for entrance almost timidly. For now, explaining to him what sleep paralysis was and how it tormented you at night could wait.

“I don’t hate you,” you breathed out once you parted again, desperate for oxygen. Your lips were swollen—his were too, a little. “I think I am falling for you, Loki Odinson.”

His expression was hopeful, vulnerable even—so unlike his usual cool and confident demeanour. His smile, honest and raw, was contagious.

“I heard you,” he admitted. “I heard you promising to kiss me once I woke up.”

Biting back a joyful laugh, you kissed him once more.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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aquietwritingcorner · 4 years ago

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Writers Month Day 18: Key/Role Reversal Word Count: 1596 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: G/K Characters: King Bradley, Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery Warning: Summary: After the incident in Lab 3, which left Havoc and Hawkeye hospitalized, Bradly considers just what might be the key to Flame Alchemist Colonel Riza Hawkeye’s heart and what he could do that would break her if she tried anything else. Notes: A Flame Alchemist Riza AU. Honestly, this is to help me get a better feel for her and how she relates to the team. AO3 || ff.net

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Key/Role Reversal

Every human, Bradley knew, had a key to them. Something that was important to them, close to them, that could be exploited. Some people’s keys were easier to find out than others. They wore them on their sleeve, there for anyone to see. Others were easy to see, but hard to get to. However, inevitably, everyone’s key was found out as well as a way for it to be exploited.

Riza Hawkeye, the Flame Alchemist, was someone who had been a thorn in their side for quite some time. She was sharp, dedicated, and didn’t play around. She had a competent team around her, for the most part. They were good at what they did. They didn’t let things slip. Not even Lust had been able to get anything out of Lieutenant Havoc, and she had been pulling information out of men for centuries.

But Lust’s unfortunate demise had helped Wrath figure out Hawkeye’s key—her weakness.

Her team.

Hawkeye was dangerous on her own, there was no doubt about that. She wasn’t the same kind of shrewd and cunning that General Armstrong was, but Bradley knew that she was far from stupid. She wouldn’t risk a move on her own without a team to back her up, and especially not if her team was being held hostage.

Bradley sat back at his desk, tapping a pen and thinking. The time hadn’t come yet to put the idea into play, but he wanted to have it ready if it was needed. Maybe he should even have as much of the paperwork ready as possible. But what exactly to do with her team? What would hit her the most and keep her compliant? He needed to think through the members and her relationships with them.

Bradley shuffled through the files on his desk. First up was Master Sergeant Kain Fuery. He was a promising young man. Lots of talent in communications. He knew how to handle or patch up almost anything and could even make things work that others couldn’t. He was, by all accounts, friendly, generally happy, and a bit naive. Hawkeye seemed to like him, almost in a “little brother” sense, although she never belittled his skills or accomplishments. In fact, she seemed proud of them and of him, even going so far as to chastise people who tried to call his kindness a weakness. She was fond of him.

A man like him would be a boon anywhere. Certain circumstances would, however, take a toll on him and that naivety. The idea made Bradley raise an eyebrow in consideration. Perhaps that would be useful. Hawkeye herself had once been idealistic, thinking she could use her flame alchemy to protect people. Fuery shared some of that same idealism. Putting him in or near a warzone might wear on the man—and it would wear on Hawkeye, knowing that he was facing the same circumstances that she had. The South and the West were the current hotbeds of conflict. The South, though, had more direct front lines, and ideal place to send the young man to demoralize him. It would hurt Hawkeye, too, to know it was happening to him. Breaking him would help to break her.

That decided, Bradley looked at the next file. Warrant Officer Vato Falman. The man was a walking encyclopedia by all accounts. By the book, no nonsense, and a bit socially awkward. He fit in well with Hawkeye’s team though. She had given him a place and a job where his knowledge was useful and used. She had hand-picked him for her team. According to reports, Officer Falman was blossoming under her command, finding a place where his unique talents were being put to good use and he felt accepted. If Falman were to go somewhere where his talents were useless to him, somewhere his talents were wasted, Bradley was fairly sure that the man would wilt. Hawkeye seemed pleased that Falman was coming into his own. To have her know that he was fading away would also strike at her.

The North was a barren wasteland. North City hardly counted as a city, and there was really little need for a man like Falman. He wouldn’t find a good use for his talents there, and new information would be hard to come by. He would be stuck, and unable to use his most valuable asset. The man was a mediocre soldier at best. He would quickly wilt away there and fade back from existence. He would, Bradley was sure, be of even less use to at Fort Briggs, although that was a bit tricky, as General Armstrong would use anything she could to her advantage. However, Bradly had no doubt that the man would fade away up there, tearing down the confidence that Hawkeye’s team had helped build, and thus hurting Hawkeye as well.

Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda was the next file, and a bit more difficult. The man seemed almost perpetually grumpy, except for a tendency to play practical jokes on people he knew, and an almost paralyzing fear of dogs. He played things close to the vest, typically. He was a good strategist, good at not being noticed, good at getting information. He worked well for Hawkeye, and she praised him for it. He was a man of action, even if the actions were subtle, and was decent at turning a situation to an advantage. Hawkeye liked that about him, that he was always finding a countermove. Perhaps putting him in a place where there were no countermoves would be useful.

The West was in turmoil. It wasn’t the same kind as the South. The South was more trenches and mortars. The West was more sweeping moves and troop movements. It needed commanders. Breda was a Lieutenant, someone who could give commands, but who would still have to take commands. He would quickly understand that he was sending troops to their deaths, and he would come to learn that there was no way out of it. His frustration would build in a situation like that, especially if he knew his talents were being wasted along with the lives he sent into battle. Knowing that would eat at Hawkeye as well as at Breda, and she would waste time worrying about him as well.

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc was after that. Havoc was, clearly, a man of action. His grades at the academy had been passing, although not great. He excelled in the field though, having an intuitiveness about what to do and when. He could perform just about any task asked of him and was loyal to a fault. He was also fairly easy going and didn’t make too many waves. He was a solid soldier, which made him a little more difficult to place. Under Hawkeye he had really shone, able to lead and do. He wasn’t confined by her and allowed to do what he did best.

A man like that wouldn’t do well with being confined or by feeling like he was useless. Sending him to an assignment where he was stuck behind a desk all day or was asked to do paperwork would be the best way to break his spirit. Perhaps Bradley could send him to Hakuro, who would hate him just because of his connection to Hawkeye. Hakuro would berate him without anyone having to ask him to do it, and that would beat down Havoc’s self-esteem. The only problem with that, was that Grumman out-ranked Hakuro, and could do something about at least some of it. Still, if Bradley could find a way to make Havoc useless, to squash any self-confidence, then it would cut Hawkeye to the quick. Bradley would just have to do a little more thinking as to where, once the man was out of the hospital.

The last file was on Lieutenant Roy Mustang. Mustang was a lazy man, getting by because Hawkeye let him slide and his teammates picked up the slack for him. Bradley was sure part of it was simply acting, especially when it came to the women, because Bradley had seen the looks that passed between Mustang and Hawkeye. Mustang was almost possessively jealous of Hawkeye and wouldn’t let any man near her if he could help it. It had even taken him some time to warm up to the other members of the team. Hawkeye relied on him to keep people from her when she needed to think or to get work done. He was great at calming her when she needed it, and at creating space for her.

Mustang, Bradley though, he would take for himself. It was clear the two cared deeply for each other, so separating them but keeping them close would just add more to the pain. If he took Mustang as his personal assistant, that would leave Hawkeye without any support system, as well as drive the young man crazy with not being able to protect her. The distance from each other, no matter how indifferent they acted, would kill them inside.

Bradley considered the files laid out in front of him. These five were the keys to Riza Hawkeye’s heart. These five were the keys to her undoing. And when she tried her next move, which Bradley felt would both be soon and be bold, he would stand ready to take the keys to her heart and scatter them to the four corners of Amestris.

If Riza Hawkeye so much as dared to try anything, she would lose everything. Bradley would make sure of it.

#writersmonth2021 #AU #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #fma #fan fiction #fma fanfic #fullmetal alchemist fan fiction

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theabominableblogger · 4 years ago

Text

My Reaction to “Avengers Endgame”

Yes- I still haven’t seen this movie. Yes I know exactly what happens in this movie. I mainly avoided it for a while due to overhype but with some convincing from my brother, Imma sit my butt down and try to watch this.

Pressing... play!

Right off the bat, I feel like I should warn you guys and say that I have... my opinions... about stuff. Plus I’m a dumbass about Marvel so just bear with me.

I like that Disney Plus has to warn us about product placement

Clint!

Are we gonna see little Nathaniel running around- THERE he is!

We are gonna see Clint’s entire family get freaking obliterated

Is all the rumbling from the sky or are those airplanes freaking crashing to Earth in the distance?

What if they pulled a reverse WandaVision and showed the people getting snapped out of existence in a future film or show? That would be freaking terrifying.

They’re [Tony and Nebula] playing paper football...

I wanna see more of THEIR interactions aboard the Milano. The shots of them just repairing the ship are great too.

“I’m fine. Totally fine.” Everyone ever.

I also like you see the visual difference between Tony and Nebula. While he’s growing gaunt and haggard from loss of oxygen, you can still see that Nebula looks absolutely fine because she’s like 75% android

So between 1995 and now, what the heck has Carol been up to?

“Thanos wiped out... 50% of all living creatures.” So like entire ecosystems are just demolished.

*anthropology major part of my brain scrambling for answers*

“We lost. And you [Steve] weren’t there.” HE WAS IN WAKANDA!

Wait so the arc reactor ISN’T in Tony’s chest anymore?

“Where the hell have you [Carol] been all this time?” Good question!

*silently bops to opening theme*

For some reason, I just really want the ship radio to randomly turn on so you just see everyone sitting awkwardly as “Piano Man” plays over the speakers

*Thanos slowly cooks his food* Faster, all together now! COOKING CAN BE FUN!

“I [Thanos] used the stones to destroy the stones.” ...what?

“I am...[Thanos] inevitable.” *starts humming “Inevitable” from TGWDLM*

“I [Thor] went for the head.” YES YOU DID

[FIVE YEARS LATER] All righty so we’re doing this

*gasps* Is... Steve running the therapy sit downs like Sam did in “The Winter Soldier”? That’s awesome. I really like this tidbit.

I’m also really liking Alan Silvestri’s score for this so far

I’m really trying not to nitpick but I feel like it would take more than 5 years for greenery to just completely overtake a suburban neighborhood

Also wow pre COVID life looks great you guys

“There’s a part of me that doesn’t even wanna find him.” Are they talking about... Clint? Is Clint just going the full vigilante route?

DOES HE KILL PEOPLE?!?

I really like Steve and Natasha’s friendship in these movies but for some reason I don’t feel like we get enough of Natasha for me to get behind her on an emotional standpoint

Are they gonna use the quantum realm to jumpstart the multiverse for Phase 4?

Also speaking of multiverse, I honestly really don’t want Spiderman: No Way Home or Wandavision to get too cluttered by that

I like Tony’s lake house. And he got a whole vegetable garden going too. Kudos!

The little kid who plays Morgan Stark is adorable

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel.” Which we obviously won’t.

“We’re gonna need a really big brain.” So where the [expletive] is Banner?

“Stranger danger.” *snorts*

“Dab!” *rolls eyes*

So is the whole Professor Hulk thing permanent? I know he’s gonna be in the She-Hulk show but I’m wondering how they’re gonna tackle that. And they’re gonna have Tim Roth too!

*smiles when Tony takes Morgan to bed*

Steve Rogers here [when they do the first time travel tests] is a Look ™

Maybe don’t let the GIANT GREEN MAN keep pressing a bunch of tiny tiny important buttons on a dashboard

*laughs at Steve shaking his head in disbelief when they finally bring Scott back*

*Tony’s car races toward the Avengers base* NYOOOMMMM

*Tony rolls down his window* It’s Britney, bitch

“And maybe not die trying.” And you definitely will.

This whole bit where Scott keeps losing his dorito only to get another one from Bruce feels like a Doritos commercial.

*jams out to "Supersonic Rocket Ship by The Kinks*

Did they just keep reducing the green pigment for Hulk or what?

*sighs when they reveal Fat!Thor*

MIEK’S ALIVE!

Please tell me Noobmaster69 is Kid Loki, whom we meet in the Loki series

“Don’t... say that name.” “Yeah we actually don’t say that name here.” I like this. I like that Thor has so much resentment for killing Thanos at the wrong time and that he felt that could have done better cause he’s A GOD. So the fact that THANOS was on equal level and BEAT HIM-

Hawkeye’s killing people

This sword fight’s great [between the Yakuza person and Clint]

WHY DIDN’T THEY BUILD ON THIS [Clint and Natasha’s connection] ???

*laughs when Rhodey suggests killing baby Thanos*

These shots of Clint going through the Quantum Realm looks like something straight out of Andy Park’s concept art and that’s awesome

“Well I [Scott] haven’t [encountered an Infinity Stone] but I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.” *snorts*

“The Aether, firstly, is not a stone.” Thank you!

The little glance Nebula gives after Thor mentions the Dark Elves just make me think that somewhere down the road, she has either A) encountered them or B) has encountered other Asgardians besides Thor

“Guys if you pick the right year, there are three stones in New York.” “Shut the front door.” *laughs*

Also underrated trio: Steve, Natasha, and Bruce. Gimme more.

Wait a minute, in 2012, Doctor Strange wasn’t active yet. So are they gonna go see- OOOOOOOHHHHHH

[NEW YORK 2012] Oh here we go

*cracks up when Bruce very half-assedly smashes stuff on the street*

“I’m looking for Doctor Strange.” “You’re about five years too early.” Wait a minute.

HOW DOES SHE [the Ancient One] KNOW?!?

*giggles at Thor and Rocket sneaking in the background with a bored Loki in focus*

“That’s my [Thor’s] mother. She dies today.” I love this scene already.

Also WHY IS THOR- or the Thor films in general- have like the most well written characters in the whole canon?

It’s those movies, Guardians 2, The Winter Soldier, Civil War, aaand.... I can’t think of any more of them.

Oh yeah and WANDAVISION cause THAT HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK-

Rocket just said he thinks of the Guardians as his family I’m gonna die...

What about their [Natasha and Rhodey’s] friendship?!? I want more of that!

“Ronan’s obsession... clouds his judgment.” ...HUH

*Thanos uses his sword to lift up Nebula’s chin* Aw heck no

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s America’s ass.” *has to take a second before nodding in agreement*

Wait is that Jasper Stillwell?

“Flick me.” That bit alone could be taken out of context

“We’re in route to Doctor List.” Who’s Doctor List? Is that a code name?

“Hail Hydra.” THE BASTARDS WENT AND DID IT

Please tell me this hand off scene is gonna be the opening for the Loki show. Please tell me this is gonna happen.

*Loki takes the Tesseract again* AND HE’S GOOONNNEE!!

LET’S GET TO FREAKING JUNE ALREADY!

*ends up quoting “Yeah, I know, I know” along with Steve*

I’m really glad Tilda Swinton actually came back for this cameo

*keeps slapping my laptop screen when people keep saying Doctor Strange made a mistake when it was an explicit point in Infinity War where he encountered 14 million other AUs to find the best result*

Are you telling me that this whole plan could derail because Nebula accidentally hacked into her own WiFI network? Are you seriously doing this?

*Thanos and Ebony Maw scan Nebula’s duplicate memory bank and track her down* Are you freaking kidding me?

...I have 96 minutes left?!?

“The future hasn’t been kind to you [Thor], has it?” Frigga is underrated

So for these shots with Jane, are they just reusing different shots from Thor 2 or just footage from deleted scenes?

Can we talk about how Frigga is absolutely the best parent Thor has? Meanwhile her husband ODIN is like “oh yeah by the way you have a secret sister totes magotes i’ll die now byeeee”

*sings along with “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone*

*laughs when we cut to Quill just very badly singing along to his iPod in the distance*

I want a bonus short with just Rhodey and Nebula doing their thing

*Nebula gets her memory taken over by 2014 Thanos* Nooooooo...

Are the glasses that Tony wears here part of EDITH from “Far From Home” or are they like a prototype?

Also I haven’t seen “Far From Home” yet because Sony hates me

Doctor Zola?!?

*jams out to the music playing when we see Hank Pym’s lab*

“A little girl would be nice. Less of a chance that she’ll end up exactly like me [Howard Stark].” *gasps softly*

Oh my God, he’s [Steve] in Peggy’s office

Alan Silvestri is really killing it with this score

JARVIS!!

Wait and that’s the guy from “Agent Carter”!

Ohhh that shot’s [of Thanos’s ship coming out of the clouds] awesome...

*2014 Nebula hands Thanos the Pym particles* Oh are you kidding me...

The CGI for Red Skull is also awesome

*gasps when Natasha reveals that she never knew her dad’s name when Red Skull told it to her*

*is super bummed out when Natasha sacrifices herself*

Kevin Feige really went and said “so Phases 3 and 4 are gonna make everybody cry” and the writers went “YES”

Wait doesn’t Cap go and return the stones at the end of the movie? How’s he gonna handle meeting Red Skull on Vormir then?

“It’s like... I [Bruce] was made for this.” Please someone get Mark Ruffalo his own Hulk movie before he combusts from giving out more spoilers

So Thanos used the Pym particles to time travel then. Honestly that’s kinda genius

I just noticed that Scott shrank himself right as the explosion hit the windows

I really want someone to just drop one F-bomb somewhere in the MCU and I really hope it’s Clint because he would 100% say it

*starts singing “Hollaback Girl” when Thanos arrives*

Here’s my question; how did Thanos acquire Nebula then? With Gamora, it was with the genocide of her people.

“We [Gamora to Nebula] can stop him.” LET’S GO!

[Thor uses his storm powers to summon both Stormbreaker and Mjolnir] *softly* Ohhhhh that’s badass...

Now I’m just imagining the cast just in the green screen room just hitting Josh Brolin with a bunch of foam weapons and making all the sound effects while poor Josh is just struggling under the weight of the Thanos reference head on his mocap suit

Who does the voice for FRIDAY?

AN: Irish actress named Kerry Condon

*Steve deems himself worth to wield Mjolnir* OKKAAYY OKAAYY

Love how Thanos is like “yes, I’m gonna stab you with an AXE”

“In all my years of conquest...” Steve you suuuucckkk...

Are we getting the Chitauri again?

“On your left.” *laughs incredulously* O-ohhh my God...

*Everyone starts coming out of the portals* Oh my God I’m getting chills

I would have lost my mind in the theater

I HAVE ACTUAL GOOSEBUMPS RUNNING ALL OVER ME. This is how good this is

WAIT ARE THOSE THE RAVAGER SHIPS ABOVE THEM?!?

“Avengers... assemble.” Oh my God this is amazing!

M’BAKU!

Also “Endgame” really just said “We are KILLING FOOLS TODAY”

How are they gonna tackle Peter and Gamora’s relationship in Guardians 3?

[Horn plays La Cucaracha] LET’S GO

God I’m gonna turn feral

*has to pause to scream in excitement when Wanda touches down in front of Thanos to fight him*

*puts hands on head* OHH MY GOOOOODDDDD

They’re literally just playing Keep Away with a teenage boy. Marvel, everybody.

*Captain Marvel destroys Thanos’s ship* WELL IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH

OK I got mixed feelings about that [the girl power team up scene]

*Thanos unsuccessfully headbutts Carol* Oh shit!

*Doctor Strange holds up one finger* Oh my God this is it

Someone definitely tore off when Thanos pushed Tony off

It was in that moment he [Thanos] knew- he effed up

*All of Thanos’s army dissipates* Byeee...

Is it bad that I’m not crying at Tony’s death?

*gasps when Peter reunites with Ned at school*

Wait the whole time heist takes place within ONE DAY?

“I love you 3000.” I really hope we see Morgan again somewhere in one of the movies or shows. Actually a cool way to reincorporate her would be in the Ironheart series whenever they make it

Even Drax is wearing black!

It’s the “We should be getting therapy but we got a TV show instead” trio [Wanda, Bucky, and Sam]

Wait is that guy- was that guy- the little kid from Iron Man 3?

AN: Yes

So right after this funeral, Wanda’s gonna storm SWORD right?

AN: This was finished up on 2/26 so probably YES

*Thor crowns Valkyrie the new leader of New Asgard* I now cannot wait for “Thor Love and Thunder”

Wait Peter’s looking for Gamora!

Still cannot believe that the time travel suits are completely CGI

I know they had a body double for Chris Evans here but I do think it would have been cool if they used the body double’s voice for Old Steve instead of Chris trying to sound old

He [Steve] put the shield in an art portfolio bag...

*says “No, no I don’t think I will” along with Steve*

*silently jams out to “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” playing during the credits*

Wait and that was the song Fury was playing in “Winter Soldier”

Oh they even got the actual signatures! That’s awesome!

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

Text

the way it was - chapter 37

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1915

i can only tell you how it, how it looks from here

i think you've made up your mind

Everything about this room set Riza’s nerves on edge. The glaring white walls were bright enough to give her a headache. The decaying body across from them, surrounded by pieces of smashed armour, was creating a stench strong enough to make her gag. Riza pressed a hand against her mouth and nose, stifling it as best she could. It didn’t help much. The smell still made her stomach lurch.

Aside from the foreboding atmosphere of the room, the smirking homunculus at the other end was making her skittish. That was the same one who’d tried to kidnap her earlier, probably to use her against Roy. When they’d first set eyes on Riza, Envy flashed her a smile with teeth fully on show. It was unsettling.

“Nice to see you again, Riza,” they’d sneered at her.

In response Riza lifted her gun higher, aiming down sights to settle it upon their face.

It had been a while since she’d fired a gun. Riza wasn’t sure if she had it in her to shoot to kill someone, but she would do her utmost to protect those she loved. The wounds didn’t need to kill, just hinder, and slow them down. The thought settled uncomfortably in her gut but Riza was not naïve. The homunculi wouldn’t go easy on her just because she was a civilian. When it came down to it, she had her children and her husband to fight for. She’d fight to survive for them. Growing up she’d learned how to survive from a young age and had been forced into doing what needed to be done far too soon. Now would be no different. If they threatened to kill her, kill her family, then she’d fight back. There was no question about it. The weight and consequences of any actions would be dealt with later.

After Envy’s welcome party Roy stepped up close behind her. He placed his hand gently upon her hip to garner her attention.

“Stay close,” he murmured in her ear, before moving around her, placing himself between her and Envy.

He didn’t know just how much comfort that action provided.

Even half shielded from view, Riza never relaxed. Her gun lowered so it wouldn’t be pointed at the back of Roy’s head, but her muscles were still coiled tightly and ready to react at a moment's notice. She didn’t let her guard down.

“Got your back,” Riza replied quietly.

Still facing away, Roy’s head bobbed once. Taking that as a sign he acknowledged her, Riza turned her gaze to the rest of the room. Her eyes skipped between everyone in front of her, making sure Edward was all right.

The strap of the rifle Breda had presented to her threatened to slip off her shoulder, so Riza shrugged it back into a comfortable place. She didn’t see the need for her to have two weapons however she had to admit, she did feel more comfortable with the rifle. That was what she’d grown up with and it was a comfort to know her preferred weapon wasn’t far away. Not that she wanted a weapon at all, but Riza knew these people could very easily kill her. She didn’t want to be left defenceless. Not when she had two children waiting for her to come home.

Finally, returning to the conversation, Riza turned her attention to Envy. They smirked maddeningly and Riza’s stomach twisted.

“Congratulations, Colonel Mustang. You’ve finally hunted down your culprit.”

Her stomach dropped.

Envy’s body glowed bright red, changing and morphing into -

Gracia.

They’d… They’d killed Maes… Using Gracia’s face...

The gun in Riza’s hands dipped to point at the floor with her shock. Riza didn’t even realise. She was too stuck on the revelation that this was the person who’d killed one of her dearest friends. They’d taken a loving father away from a child, left a woman widowed… Made him think his own wife had killed him -

“That’s enough.”

Bile crawled its way up Riza’s throat, but it stalled when she saw Roy move. Her head snapped to face him, seeing his whole body shaking with…

Rage.

Gloves were tightened over his hands and all Riza wanted to do was reach out, place a hand on his shoulder, and jerk him back, out of reach of Envy. Anything to break his concentration. Envy was taunting Roy, playing with him, and it caused Riza’s fear to skyrocket. Roy had already been volatile enough about this topic of conversation at home. He didn’t need to be teased further about Maes’ murderer. But Riza was frozen in place. Her brain was still trying to process that this was who’d murdered Maes Hughes.

Roy walked toward Envy so Riza lifted her gun, training it on Envy’s form now that Roy had stepped out of her line of fire. She swallowed thickly, past the lump in her throat.

“This one is mine, and mine alone.”

Her breath caught, eyes nervously shifting over to look at Roy again.

Please… Please don’t do anything reckless, she pleaded inside her head.

“Mrs. Mustang, do you really think the two of you -?”

“Edward, go.” She shifted her grip on the gun. The day was not won, and they still had a job to do. Edward still had his own goals to achieve. “You’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Are you sure?”

“She said go, Elric,” Roy snapped.

Riza frowned at the back of his head, affronted by his tone. Still, she wanted Edward out of here. Riza felt the same way about the young girl standing by Scar too. She was sure they were more than capable, but her maternal instinct was clawing its way to the surface. She could handle Roy, and they had somewhere better to be.

They walked by without incident. Envy glared as they passed but made no move to stop the group. Their tongue was still smoking after Roy had snapped earlier, burning it to stop them from talking.

“You go too -”

“She’s not getting to leave,” Envy sneered. “No,” they smirked, “I think she can stay here with you and watch how you work, Colonel.” Envy snickered to themselves and Riza’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Before Roy could open his mouth to reply there was a deafening crack of energy.

The pistol fell limp by her side. Riza’s mouth parted in complete shock, brain struggling to comprehend what was in front of her.

Envy had changed shape completely. The massive form of a green… She didn’t even know what to class it as. It was no beast she knew of, more a culmination of numerous beings all mashed together into one. The human bodies and faces that pressed out from the green skin almost made her vomit. It would be naïve to think they weren’t real people stuck inside there but… Riza couldn’t help but hope beyond hope. A foolish hope, but enough to keep her sane for the moment. It was enough to keep her breakfast in her stomach and stop the horror from keeping her completely frozen in place.

Her fear about running from the imposter at her front door was validated in that moment. Initially she’d been compliant so she could avoid any kind of conflict as the homunculus’ powers were unknown. Seeing this new form in front of her Riza was really damn glad she hadn’t fought it. Those massive paws could end her life in one playful swipe.

“I’ll give you the fight you’re looking for Colonel, seeing as you’ve been so relentless in your search for Hughes’ killer. However, I can’t exactly tread lightly in this body so you better -”

Envy’s eyes erupted into flames. Riza balked at the show, their howl of agony slicing through her entire body and making her shudder.

“What’s it like having the fluid inside of your eyes boil? I’d imagine it might sting a little,” Roy stated coldly.

Riza turned to look at her husband. Dread prickled over her skin, lifting the hairs on her arms, and turning her blood to ice. Horror roiled inside her chest, squeezing her heart painfully and making her break out in a cold sweat.

Enraged, Roy didn’t relent on his assault and Riza could only watch on, terrified.

This was the power she’d unleashed upon the world. These flames had ravished the desert, razing it, and destroying everything in its path. Riza was well aware of this, had discussed it with Roy years ago, but had never seen it at work.

“I think she can stay here with you and watch how you work, Colonel.”

Envy had already known of Roy’s destructive power.

Shortly after they were married, he’d playfully lit the fireplace with it, used it to light the gas on the cooker – sometimes with almost disastrous results – but after Ishval the gloves were neatly tucked away inside a drawer and were never brought out except for when he went to work. He never wore them again inside their home, taking his time to coax a fire from the coals on their hearth, or almost burn his fingers with a match.

This was the power that had torn him apart once before, it was threatening to do it again.

Riza couldn’t let that happen.

Envy’s massive form shifted, their tail swinging to hit the wall beside them. The force of it blasted rock towards Roy and Riza’s heart lifted into her throat.

“Roy!”

His hands lifted to in front of his face to try and shield it, but she lost sight of him as more stone flew by and dust filled the room. Riza crouched low, feeling grains of stone scrape gently across her hands as she covered her head. Luckily, she was out of range of Envy’s attack.

“You coward!” Roy barked.

She heard footsteps against the stone floor, running. As the dust cleared she saw her husband running towards the door Edward had walked through, and Envy was nowhere to be seen.

“Roy, wait!”

She was desperate. Riza took a step towards him. She’d heard the fury in his voice, saw the inferno of hate inside his eyes before he’d attacked Envy. In her mind she was silently begging Roy not to run headfirst into something he’d regret. But she never got a chance to voice it aloud.

“You stay here where it’s safe,” he called over his shoulder, running towards the door. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m going to take care of Envy myself,” he spat.

She hated hearing the fury in his voice. That wasn’t the Roy she knew. This wasn’t the doting father who laughed and cherished his children. Riza knew his time in the military hadn’t been sunshine and roses. It had been difficult and cruel, but this was something else entirely. He was changing, teetering on the edge of morphing into… into a monster. If pushed enough he just might. The realisation of it cut deep into her chest, making it ache as she exhaled.

Her shoulders slumped as she stared after his retreating form. She felt momentarily helpless –

Riza frowned. As if she would stay and let him run off to fight Envy alone. The irritation and anger she’d felt festering during their last argument about him seeking revenge and justice came hurtling back. He was losing it, but he’d already said he didn’t want to become a monster again. Riza wouldn’t let him.

The pistol was gripped tightly in her palm. Riza started moving and picked up her pace to a run. Her gun was cocked and ready.

As she walked through the tunnels she’d heard the explosions, heard Envy’s distant screams. Riza was on high alert. The blasts and the screaming eventually stopped but she wouldn’t let her guard down until she knew for certain Envy had been defeated. The sudden lack of them made her wonder if Roy had already defeated and delivered his justice to Envy, but she held onto the slim hope that maybe they’d just escaped. She clung to it desperately.

Footsteps were approaching her current position. They were in the hallway ahead, heavy but steady as they walked. Ducking, she hurried as quietly as she could to the opening where the tunnel she was in opened up into another. Gun poised and ready, she waited for whoever was approaching to come into view.

At the last second, Riza spun out and swung her gun, lifting it so it came face to face with -

Roy.

She blinked at him, surprised to have seen him so soon. Her shoulders fell with relief and realisation but paused when she saw the dark look in his eyes. His stare was hard as he looked down on her.

A seed of doubt planted itself into her mind when he remained, poised to snap at her, for a moment longer. He should have recognised her right away...

Was this…

Unless he thought she was Envy.

“I told you to stay behind, Riza.” Roy straightened his posture and lowered his hand to his side. His hand relaxed and went limp.

“I wasn’t going to let you face this alone. I already told you that.”

Riza thought he might argue with her, stating it wasn’t safe down here, but he just scoffed quietly and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Where’s Envy?” She rose to her feet and lowered her pistol but didn't loosen her grip.

“They outran me.” He turned away from her, speaking into the empty tunnel. “This place is like a labyrinth. You might as well help me kill them now that you’re here. Stay right by my side, Riza,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Don’t leave it.”

Without another word, Roy walked off, leaving her to stare after him.

That seed of doubt was putting down roots and sprouting slowly within her mind.

Riza started to walk behind him. He didn’t even acknowledge her.

“You might as well help me kill them”. That didn’t sit well with Riza at all.

I don’t want to get you involved. He’d told her that, adamant about that fact, when she’d offered to help Winry after she’d had a run in with Scar. He’d begged her to stop pushing for her own safety, as well as their unborn child’s.

I didn’t intend for this to happen. He’d been miserable as he reassured her of that on their couch after his meeting with Bradley. And it was me that put you in harm’s way.

This isn’t over, he’d vowed after seeing that Pride had hurt her. I swear my life on it.

Roy had never wanted her to get her involved in anything relating to his work. He’d even fought to share his plans for the day with her, stating the less she knew the better. However, she’d managed to wear him down and it had helped him to talk it through with someone, rather than shoulder it all by himself.

Before running off after Envy he’d even told her to stay where it was safe. That he didn’t want her to get hurt. Why would he invite her to help him kill Envy, when he knew that was the opposite of what Riza wanted him to do?

This was not her husband.

Riza lifted her pistol towards Roy’s head. She let out a quiet breath, ignoring the horrible imagery of pointing a gun at her husband, poised to kill.

He stopped, turning to half face her. His fringe was almost hiding his eyes, but his expression never changed. It was the same steely one he’d worn earlier when he didn’t lower his hand, despite realising it was her around the corner.

It was possible he was just being cautious but his command to help him kill Envy was what settled it for Riza.

Slowly, Roy turned back around and lifted his hands in surrender. “Do you know who your gun is pointed at?”

Riza scoffed. “Who? Don’t make me laugh. When we’re alone, my husband calls me by my maiden name. A throwback, to old times.”

She heard Roy gasp, then jump away in a flash. As he did so, red sparks erupted from his body as it morphed into Envy. “Maiden name?” Envy scoffed. “What kind of weird marriage do you two have -?”

“I lied.”

Riza fired, hitting Envy in the face with her bullet. They cried out in pain, hurtling backwards to crash into the ground. Her stomach lurched with the impact of that first shot, very aware that she’d fired at another ‘human being’. She knew they couldn’t be killed so easily but… It was still jarring.

Just like it had been after her first successful hunt as a child.

Fight to survive, Riza.

Red sparks erupted around Envy’s face, healing the wound she’d just made, repairing skin and muscle insanely fast. It angered Riza that they could heal and repair themself so easily while a friend couldn’t and had been left for dead in a phone booth in the middle of Central.

“It was nice of you to fall for it though, Envy. And now you can do us all the favour of dying.”

Riza fired again and again, almost emptying a clip into the homunculus.

“Ow! That hurts!” Envy yelled at her.

Something very green and sharp shot towards Riza, cutting into the skin of her shoulder faster than she could react. The arm that held her gun jerked out as she ground her teeth together against the pain. The way her body spun from the impact made the rifle strapped to her back lose its grip on her clothing and it slipped down her other arm. Riza caught it quickly, so fast that even she couldn’t believe it, but she was being fuelled by indignation and this being’s carelessness for human life, as well as adrenaline. With that combination, the rifle was caught easily.

Riza’s knees buckled with surprise and the sudden pain in her shoulder. One hit the ground painfully as she steadied herself, getting ready to fire. Despite the rough treatment and the recovery from Envy’s strike, she still managed to hit her target.

Envy’s body jerked with the hit, pushing them back a step with every single one until they dropped to their knees.

“You’re really annoying with that thing!”

Furious, another bolt of green disrupted the stones beneath her feet before shooting up and racing towards Riza. She stood sharply but it was too fast to dodge. It wrapped around her entire body, sealing her arms against her body tightly. It squeezed impossibly tight, restricting her ability to breathe. Gasping for a breath, Riza’s eyes bugged open wide as she was lifted off the ground. Knowing what was coming before it happened should have helped her prepare, but she was too caught off guard. She was still recovering from the sudden lack of oxygen and the pain lancing through her shoulder. She was slammed down into the concrete, the back of her head bouncing sickeningly off the stone. There was a crack as her hair clip broke and let her hair loose. The blonde strands tumbled down her back and over her shoulder, springing free from their restraint.

“I’ll dump you at his feet like a rag!” Envy cackled.

Gasping, Riza lay there as she tried to blink away the spots from her vision. They danced in front of her, but one thing did make its way into her pain addled mind, there was a quiet snap in the distance. It sounded so out of place that it caught her attention. Riza knew what that snap meant.

Envy screamed as Riza felt a sudden heat. Looking down her body Riza saw flames lick at the green appendage holding her still. They stopped far enough down that they wouldn’t harm her, but the sudden rush of flames made the skin of her face heat up.

“Roy,” she cried out, partly with relief and partly to get him to stop.

There was another snap and Envy was consumed by fire. Their screams drowned out Roy’s approach so Riza had no idea where he was.

“What in the hell are you doing to my wife?”

Riza’s head snapped up, blood running cold at the fury she heard in his voice. His face was like thunder as Roy stared Envy down. Glancing over at their enemy, Riza finally saw fear in Envy’s face. They were petrified. They’d made a mistake going after her and now there would be hell to pay.

“Don’t interfere, Riza.” His tone was softer as he spoke to her but that look in his eyes… His rage knew no bounds. “I told you I would deal with this, and I don’t want you to get involved.”

Before she had a chance to reply hell rained down on Envy, like fire and brimstone. Roy snapped and grunting, letting out all of his fury as he sent attack after attack at the homunculus to drain their power. It blew her hair away from her face and the intensity of the heat almost made her turn away.

All Riza could do was stare. She felt numb.

He’s going to kill them. He’s giving into that hatred.

She had to do something. She had to move.

Struggling to her feet was a great effort. Riza felt herself stagger. She was almost knocked backwards by the force of Roy’s alchemy and her head was still spinning from the hit she’d sustained after being slammed into the ground.

After one last ferocious blast Envy’s body started to disintegrate. It crumbled into a charred mess, leaving a tiny green creature in its place. Their voice turned almost child-like as they cursed Roy, crawling away from their own remains with tears in their eyes.

Roy approached and lowered his foot harshly atop Envy’s body. They were squashed underneath his boot, almost crushed completely. Any slight increase in pressure and they’d be dead.

Like hell Riza would let Roy do that to them.

“So this is your true form then?” The growl in his voice almost made Riza sick.

Stop… This isn’t you, Roy… Stop it, please.

“You’re ugly.”

Envy whined, begging for Roy not to do it, just like Riza was in her mind.

“I don’t want to die!” Envy cried desperately, tiny limbs flailing frantically.

It was too much for her to take anymore. Catching herself on the wall, Riza shoved herself so she was standing.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Now burn in hell!”

His fingers snapped together. Riza lifted her weapon, cocking and pointing it at Roy’s head, as her heart broke clean in two.

“Roy!”

Her yell echoed around the tunnel, bouncing off the walls with such clarity even she didn’t expect it. In the lull of the explosions the world sounded eerily quiet. Roy’s quiet gasp filled it once he realised what she was doing. His body stilled, his foot easing slightly on Envy’s body underneath his boot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone was harsh but genuine surprise had seeped into it as well.

“Stop this,” Riza commanded, putting as much authority into her voice as she possibly could. Her gun shook in her hand, the grip slacking. No. She couldn’t let herself slip now. Not after all they’d already been through with this discussion. She wouldn’t let him talk to her like that either. The grip on the gun tightened. “I’ll deal with Envy from here on out.”

“Riza. Lower your weapon,” he ordered with the same authority she’d heard him use with his team at work.

Riza was no soldier and had to follow no such order. She was his wife, she loved him, and she’d made a promise that she’d watch his back and watch out for him always. He’d asked her to do that and she wasn’t about to let him down.

If I lost myself to all of this… That’s not the husband or father I want to be. I don’t want to be a monster again.

I choose you. I choose all three of you. There’s no contest and never has been.

He’d picked his side, that night in the darkened bedroom, and she wasn’t going to let him back out now.

“No. Put your hand down, Roy.”

He scoffed. “I won’t ask you again!” He shouted, almost startling her. He’d never used that tone with her before, never been so angry towards her like this. It didn’t even sound like her husband. The barrel of the gun quivered.

There was the sound of a transmutation and the ground beneath his foot was alchemised, disrupting their conversation. It rose up sharply to throw Roy off balance and send Envy sailing through the air. They were both startled out of their argument by the sudden appearance of Edward Elric and Scar.

Edward plucked Envy out of the air effortlessly, gripping onto them tightly with a scowl on his face.

“Fullmetal.”

Riza’s head turned sharply back to face Roy, noting how much calmer he sounded. But it was all a ruse. He hadn’t changed one bit. The fists at Roy’s side began to shake with his fury. One of his arms extended outwards towards Edward.

“I’ll be taking that.”

Edward was surprised by the request, seemingly unsure for a second. He glanced over at Riza and she shook her head the tiniest fraction.

“That is an order. Give them to me, right now!”

“No, I won’t,” Edward refused and Riza felt herself relax the tiniest amount.

With a controlled movement, Roy’s arm lowered. Alchemic energy still sparked around his gloves, a sign that he hadn’t given up the transmutation yet. He still needed to decide where to direct it.

Not at Edward and Envy, Riza pleaded. She couldn’t take it if he did.

“Elric,” Roy growled. “That thing belongs to me.”

“No they don’t!”

“Give them to me! Or I’ll burn up your hand along with it!” Roy’s hand twisted, pointed towards Edward.

“Roy!” she scolded, outraged that he’d threaten such a thing, and to Edward of all people too.

He’s almost gone, Riza. Do something!

Edward wasn’t one to give in so easily either, though. He interrupted before Riza could recover from her burst of anger. “Try it then!” he goaded, daring him.

Roy fell silent as he and Edward glared at one another in a standoff.

“Think of our children, Roy,” she commanded, trying another way to get through to him. It had worked before so she hoped it would again. Although Riza tried to keep her voice strong, one mention of them almost broke her. Her voice cracked and she was almost pleading with him as she spoke his name. “Remember what you said to me when we discussed this before. Don’t give into this,” she begged. “Remember that you’re letting go for them, as well as yourself.”

“What would Mia ask you to do?” Edward’s voice rang out in the tunnel, adding onto her point.

Roy’s shoulders stiffened and she heard him inhale sharply. “Stay out of this, Fullmetal,” he warned harshly.

“What would Maes ask, huh?” Edward continued on as if he hadn’t heard Roy speak. “What would those kids say to finding out their father gave into anger and hate and killed this homunculus!” Edward was spitting angry, furious that Roy was even considering such an act, but was desperate to get through to him as well. Riza could see it in his eyes. There was fear in them too. “If it were me I certainly wouldn’t want to look at you again!” Edward yelled. “You look like a monster!”

“I know I have no right to tell you what to do, Mustang, but they are correct.” Scar’s deep and calm timbre rolled through the air, settling over Riza, and making her loose another breath from her lungs. Hope swelled within her that maybe the three of them would be able to get through to him together. “You’re a father and you need to set an example. Do not cause any more death than you already have. End this cycle of hatred,” Scar snarled, “do it now. Break the chain. Otherwise you’re no better than a beast and those that have come before you. And I shudder to think what kind of world you will create after you become its ruler with all of that hatred burning inside of you. I dread to think what kind of father you will be.”

Roy’s body stiffened.

“Roy.” She brought his attention back to her. “This is not who you are.” Her voice was controlled as she steadied her weapon. She knew the Roy she loved was still within him but was buried underneath the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within. He had to be. Riza wouldn’t accept anything otherwise.

His shoulders tensed. “Riza… I did it,” he growled. “I finally ran them down and they’re right there. They attacked you –”

“I understand that,” she barked harshly. “I know you did, and I know what happened, but you’re about to do something you’ll regret here and I won’t let you. You’re better than this. I know you’re better. I know the man I love, and he’s not here right now.”

His shoulders jerked up towards his ears.

“This course of action benefits no one. All it will do is hurt the ones you love.” Riza took a deep breath. “This is pure hatred. And I will not let it take you. I already told you that. I already promised I wouldn’t let you do it!” Her cry rang out in the silent hallway.

He was struggling, teetering on the edge, but he was listening to her.

“Would you really shoot me with that gun, Riza?”

Her breath caught tightly in her throat, choking her. What… What was he asking her?

His tone changed completely, along with his body language. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath. He sounded calmer, that edge to his voice gone. He almost sounded defeated.

He still didn't let go of the transmutation though.

“If you’re going to shoot me, shoot me.”

It was just a threat, really. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to kill her husband if he actually went through with this. She was no soldier, had taken no human life, and Riza wasn’t sure if she was emotionally stable enough to hit her target regardless of that.

But would she be able to live on with him, knowing that he’d become the monster he didn’t want to be, but had sought out that path anyway?

“Maybe not,” she admitted quietly.

She’d only been able to target Envy because she knew they wouldn’t die. That first pull of the trigger though… It was jarring, horrifying. When she’d fired a gun before it had been for food, for survival. This fight was a way to try and keep her alive, but she gained nothing from each hit. Just the sickening realisation that she was harming another living thing and gaining nothing from it.

“Maybe I can’t pull that trigger on you.” Despite the turmoil rattling her bones her voice held steady. Sorrow bled into her tone, shoulders dipping as her resolve to point the weapon at him wavered. “I couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t do that to our children either,” she added, bile rising at the thought of taking their father away from them, regardless of their current conversation.

Memories flashed inside her mind. Roy lifted Mia high in the air, spinning her round as she giggled with glee. Maes’ happy squeals filled the room as Roy blew raspberries on their little boy’s arms, tickling him. Hayate barked happily in their garden as she, Roy, and Mia chased each other in a game of tag on the grass. Little Maes clapped his hands happily as he watched, sitting on Chris’ lap.

Riza clenched her jaw to stave off the sudden tears and keep a hold on her emotions. She wanted that Roy back. She just wanted her husband back.

“But I’m doing what you asked me to do,” Riza replied with more confidence this time. “I’m watching your back. You told me you didn’t want to be a monster again. Don’t give into it. Mia wouldn’t want you too.” Her voice wavered. She cleared her throat to try and shift the lump in it, but it was futile. “Little Maes wouldn’t want you to either. Neither would Big Maes.”

Roy’s head jerked suddenly, no doubt remembering their conversation in the dark in their bed. He’d held her close that night. She remembered pressing a kiss against his throat, feeling his pulse thrum beneath her lips.

“I…” The words stuck in her throat, halting her. They needed to be said because they were true, no matter how much it hurt to think about. She needed to get through to him and the hope that she could was dwindling second by second. “I don’t think I will be able to live on with you if you do go down this path.”

Roy flinched violently.

“I can’t follow you down it. Our family can’t. And I refuse to leave our children behind.”

He let out a choked breath. Suddenly, Roy’s hand jerked out and with a yell, the fire torpedoed down an empty hallway, filling it with heat and his anguish.

He didn’t do it.

Riza had never felt such strong relief in her life. A choked breath left her lungs, stuttering as it passed by her lips. Her knees shook and her pistol trembled in her hand. She almost lost her grip on it.

“I… I can’t afford to lose you. Or them. This madness… Scolded by a child and a man who was once my enemy.”

Roy turned to face her and Riza felt hope blossom tentatively at the look in his eyes. All his hatred was gone. A deep exhaustion had settled over his bones and it showed clearly in his expression. The features of his face drooped, eyes filled with so much regret and agony that Riza almost lost her breath. He was broken, defeated by himself, but he was Roy.

“And you.”

Tears flooded his eyes. Roy’s touch was gentle when it rested upon her gun. His hands were bare, gloves gone. Riza was unsure when that had happened, but it didn’t matter. The fact remained that he’d unequipped his weapon and taken that step away from where he was threatening to fall over the edge.

Riza watched completely mute as they both lowered the gun to her side slowly.

“It almost cost me you. I forced you to go through all of this. I pushed you away. My love,” he breathed, so quietly only she would hear. “My children. I would have lost it all.” Roy cleared his throat, dropping his gaze in shame. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered. “I did it again. I’m such a fool,” he cursed in disgust, dropping his gaze. He turned to the side as his knees shook. He fell to the ground, finally spent, with his face hidden by his hands.

Relief made her body shudder and tremble. The pistol grew slack in Riza’s hand and dropped to the floor without her realising it. She joined him, kneeling by his side. Pain shot into her kneecaps after she fell, hitting the ground hard enough to make her wince. Her old injury with her fight with Envy flared up but Riza paid it no mind. All of her attention was focussed on the side of her husband’s head. She stared, knowing she wouldn’t be able to discern anything from it, but still looked upon those dark strands as if they would give her all the answers she sought.

Tentatively, Riza reached out. Her hand hovered before the space in between his shoulder blades. It was an action she’d done numerous times when helping him through his low points. She wasn’t sure what his mental state was. She had no way of knowing until she took the first step and made contact. Her fingertips pressed down first, lightly, before the heel of her hand kissed against his back. She watched, saddened, as his shoulders bunched up further at his ears, head dipping down. He was hiding from her.

“Roy?” Her call was apprehensive. She just wanted him to turn and look at her, give her something to go on. But he didn’t.

Shifting on her knees, Riza angled herself around him so she was kneeling by his side. Her hand naturally moved to come to rest on his shoulder. She gave it a squeeze of comfort and encouragement.

“Roy, look at me,” she prompted gently.

Unable to bring himself to, his gaze remained on his feet which were crumpled underneath his body at odd angles.

“Roy.”

It was just enough coaxing. The hand that covered his eyes moved a fraction. His eyes were desolate once they made contact and barely visible as he peeked up at her through a gap, filled with shame and sorrow.

“You didn’t do it,” she reminded him.

“I was close.” His voice was a whisper, only loud enough to reach her ears. “I - I saw you being hurt… And thought about what had happened to Hughes and –” His sigh made his whole body shudder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Riza gathered him close, placing her cheek against the top of his head. Her arms wrapped around his shaking frame, bringing his face against her chest to hide him from the rest of them. Just for a moment, she wanted it to be just them, to have a tiny moment to themselves so she could get him back on his feet.

“You’re all right for now. You came back to me,” she whispered into his hair, focussing on that fact at the moment. The day was not over so everything else could be left until later when they were alone.

Slowly, hands lifted to her hips and held on. His fingers dug into her sides almost painfully. Then, the arms wrapped around, squeezing her against him. Her fingers ran through his hair as relief made them shake, thankful that for now, the worst of the confrontation was over.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes #tentatively posts #i used up all my brain cells editing this to the point where idek if its good or makes sense anymore lmaoooo #i will never be able to compete w the mastery of arakawa but i think this is a relatively decent attempt #apologies in advance my dudes

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stovetuna · 5 years ago

Note

Imagine Steve/Avengers walking in to Tony entertaining two soldiers in the common room and being really confused because Tony??? Despises the military??? But then find out that those two soldiers are actually from the “fun-vee” way back in IM 1 and Tony’s fitting them with prosthetics.

ahhh this has been stuck in my head for DAYS anon! I don’t necessarily agree with the assessment that Tony hates the military, per se (doing business with the military and the military industrial complex, however, and all that that toxic shit entails, definitely yes), BUT it’s such a heartbreaking/warming concept I had to run with it! I think I got it right with Air Force vs Army, but the movie was kinda vague—I’m going off of the fact that the driver said “I’m an airman,” which you would not say if you were in the Army.

and since the airmen (and woman) Tony was traveling with in the Fun-Vee are canonically deceased, I thought I’d have Tony do something…well, Extremely Tony™ to compensate…

(::whispers:: also we’re just gonna pretend that the Bucky-killed-Tony’s-parents-revelations of Cap 2/3 aren’t a thing in this vaguely alternate MCU universe. la-di-da, la-di-da…)

***

It’s not surprising to walk into the Avengers common area and see Tony Stark working on something no one can quite comprehend. That’s par for the course, really, as commonplace as days that end in Y. Machines, phones, tablets, watches, the toaster after Hulk pressed the cancel button a little too hard—they’ve seen Tony futzing with just about everything that exists in the Tower (and some things that don’t—couldn’t—exist anywhere else except where Tony is).

What the team isn’t expecting when the elevator doors open onto the communal floor that sunny Tuesday afternoon is a living room scattered with men and women in various states of modest undress, all of whom immediately pivot in place to take stock of the new arrivals. Three men, one woman, and in the middle of their protective circle is Tony, eyes blazing with the same thrill of invention he often gets in the lab, a pair of needle-nose pliers clenched in his teeth.

Steve in particular notices the way Tony looks, because he’s developed a bad habit of doing that over the past year and change, and he’s kind of helpless at this point. Tony’s backlit by the afternoon sun, preoccupied with whatever he’s doing with the strange woman’s arm to distraction, and Steve can’t be judged too harshly—anyone with eyes would drag theirs over the exposed muscles of Tony’s arms, the shift and flex of his shoulders, the firm taper of his waist, the pronounced curve of his a—

“Are we, uh, interrupting something?” Clint has to shout to be heard above the music blasting from all corners of the room.

Tony looks up from his work and waves his free hand, the one that isn’t wrist-deep in what looks remarkably like a prosthetic arm. He makes a ‘cut it off’ motion to his neck before taking the pliers out of his mouth while FRIDAY lowers the rock music to a dull background hum.

“Hey! Sorry, I tried to keep it to the lab, but these guys wanted to see where the Avengers hang out, and I couldn’t say no.”

Steve tears his eyes away from Tony (who should really work the sweaty-and-disheveled-mechanic look more often) to take in the others in the room with him. It’s a panorama of people, and the first thing Steve notices, besides their more obvious differences, is how comfortable they all are with each other, to the point that walking in on this moment feels invasive, almost rude.

The four are all of remarkably different builds and backgrounds, not a similarity between them: an African American man, no taller than Steve was before the serum, sits on the couch; a white man, thin as a rake and twice as tall, is reaching for a glass of water on the coffee table; an Asian American man, whose shoulders are somehow even broader than Steve’s, stands rigidly next to Tony, arms folded across his chest; and the lone woman, whose glossy black hair is wound tightly in a bun at the back of her head. Steve notes the beautifully elaborate Native American tattoo covering the expanse of her shoulders and upper back.

Then Steve notices the high-and-tights, the form-fitting, drab beige shirts they’re all wearing, the combat boots lined up behind the loveseat, and he realizes, much like he did with Sam that morning in DC, oh—these are my people.

“Ah, well, welcome to the octagon!” Clint says with an easy smile, stepping forward to shake hands and say hello like a normal human being. Natasha gives Steve one of her looks before she and Sam follow him into the living room—I don’t know any more than you do.

Bruce, Wanda, and Vision stay behind with Steve to let the first wave through. Steve watches his teammates greet the airmen without fanfare, welcoming strangers into their private midst like it’s routine.

“Didn’t know y’all would be around, else we would’ve stayed outta sight.”

Sam laughs, clapping the sitting man on the shoulder. “Dude, if Tony told us you were here, I would have come downstairs and bugged you, myself.”

“Sure, PJ—you just wanted to see what real Air Force muscle looks like,” the man grins, flexing his barrel chest hard enough to strain his shirt. Sam guffaws and gives him a friendly punch to the shoulder, which the man returns in kind with a fist to the kidney.

Clint is already deep in conversation with the redheaded beanpole, who talks so fast it’s dizzying; Natasha is standing next to the third man, keeping her eyes forward, and together they watch Tony disappear back into his work, muttering things back and forth to each other, so quiet even Steve can’t hear.

“I think all is clear,” Vision says smoothly, drifting forward with Wanda, who is visibly fascinated by the woman’s tattoo until she steps into the throng and sees something that makes her face fall.

Steve moves forward, curious and worried in equal measure. Bruce is hot on his heels.

“—I mean it’s crazy right? It’s crazy, Tony Stark, Tony Stark calls us up out of the blue one day and says ‘You’ll be waiting six months to a year for a decent repair job, let alone a complete replacement, and I owe you guys, come on by Avengers Tower—”

Redhead is gabbing excitedly, gesticulating like Tony does when he’s in the mad depths of an invention binge. Steve sees the glint of metal and hears the whir of mechanisms working smoothly together in tandem and realizes both of the man’s hands are prosthetic.

“Oh man! Oh, man! Captain, sir, wow, it’s—fuck, shit, my mama would kill me for swearing in front of you, fucking—shit, sorry, fuck—ah, damn it!”

Steve smiles and introduces himself—Corporal Bill Levee, apparently, is just as talkative up close. For all that his hand is made of metal, his grip feels remarkably, tangibly real.

While Bill goes back to talking compound bows with Hawkeye, Steve looks at the man on the couch. Sam and Vision are now sitting on either side of him: both of his legs end at mid-thigh, and in their place are what look like brand-new metal limbs, designed to match his proportions exactly. The metal is dark, shiny, beautiful. He looks thrilled. He looks even more excited when Steve approaches, leaps to his feet and doesn’t even balk at the fact that Steve is a head and change taller than him and a superhero—he just steps right up to Steve and jabs him once in the shoulder with a grin.

“Captain Rogers,” he says, and sticks out his hand. Steve shakes it. The man points a thumb at himself: “Captain Freddy Harrison. A little after your time, sir, but an honor to meet you regardless.”

Bill is still talking a mile a minute behind him; Freddy sits back down on the couch and lets Steve continue his “Captain America Meet-and-Greet” but makes him promise to come back and swap stories, which Steve does, happily, even as his mind whirls. How does Tony know these people? Why are they here? Where did these prosthetics come from?

Bruce has joined Natasha, standing apart from the rest to talk to her and her new friend. Steve stops to say hello, as is only right, waiting until he’s entered the man’s line of sight to do so. Only then does he realize that the man has no line of sight, because both of his eyes are prosthetic.

“I’m not completely blind, Captain,” he says, voice low but good-humored. Next to him, Natasha smothers a smile behind her hand.

“Steve, this is Sergeant Daniel Kwon,” Bruce offers. The sergeant smirks and extends a hand—the eyes in his sockets look incredibly lifelike, but don’t move even a fraction of a millimeter. They gleam, still, with an uncanny sense of knowing. Steve has a sneaking suspicion they see more than enough and match his original eyes perfectly.

“I’ll still make an exception in your case, Sergeant Kwon,” Steve replies, shaking his hand, “for not saluting a ranking officer.”

Dan chuckles under his breath.

“Let’s see your battlefield commission and then we’ll talk rank, sir,” he says.

“Ugh, men.”

Steve turns around, and there’s Tony, flipping shut a panel high on the woman’s left arm with a smile. He pockets the pliers and drags the back of his forearm across his glistening forehead. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, a saxophone is blaring.

Honestly, the intrusive thoughts he could deal with, but the fact that Tony looks this good after hours of hard labor really isn’t fair.

“Seriously, barely two minutes in and you military guys are at it like frat bros at a kegger.” Tony looks sidelong at the woman, who rolls her shoulders with a pop and a groan. “How do you manage?”

“Easy,” she says, “I let them drink until they pass out and then I run back to the women’s barracks with all their clothes so they have to walk across the TOC butt-naked.”

“I think we need to compare our respective strategies,” Natasha says, taking Wanda’s arm on her way to greet the other woman. “This is Wanda; I’m Natasha.”

The woman turns to face them. Her features are striking in a way that makes Steve think of old friends from the war, men he met on those rare occasions he had leave. He’d listen to Native American Code Talkers tell stories of land and legacy and home, stories older than anything Steve had ever known. He’d never been so humbled.

“Delores,” she replies, shaking their hands. “But please, call me Del, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Steve looks at Tony, who giggles—giggles—and mouths ‘Umbridge.’ Del must have ears like a bat, because she smacks him smartly with her prosthetic arm and Tony yelps before devolving into outright laughter. Steve could watch and listen to Tony laugh—that big, gut-wrenching cackle Tony thinks is unattractive but Steve thinks makes Tony look like happiness personified—all day.

The conversation devolves quickly from there, and within a couple of excitable minutes, the airmen are eager to get a look at the Avengers’ game room. They pile into the elevator, talking animatedly over each others’ heads, placing bets and picking teams as the doors close.

In their wake, Steve’s ears are buzzing, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s now alone. With Tony.

It happens often enough that the fact itself isn’t jarring, but something about being alone with disheveled-frazzled-happy-sweaty Tony sets Steve’s nerves on high alert. Tony is loose-limbed and relaxed, moving in and out of Steve’s space as he picks his way around the living room barefoot, looking for discarded tools.

“There you are,” he coos at a tiny device that looks remarkably like a laser pointer. Knowing Tony, it’s probably a real laser. He pockets it, assumably to put away later (or fish out of the laundry at the last minute).

“Who are those people, Tony?”

“Friends of friends,” Tony replies. Steve also knows Tony well enough to recognize his I am being deliberately vague voice when he hears it.

“Uh-huh.” Steve sits on the arm of the sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. “And who are they really?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Me,” Steve says gently, scratching his palms with dulled fingernails. “They’re strangers, and they’re in our home. I think if you were in my shoes you’d want to know.”

Tony stoops to pick up and pocket what looks like a dissected nine-volt battery. Steve kind of wants to ask, but he’s too distracted by Tony’s ass in those black Levis to ask any cogent questions. Seriously, he wonders, are those painted on?

Only when Tony sighs, and quite heavily, that Steve realizes this was more than just a friendly house call (of sorts) on Tony’s part. He watches Tony stand up, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows bright with the glow of sunset, and admires the way Tony suits the view so perfectly. He looks good all the time, but like this—skin burnished gold, brown eyes honeyed by the light—he’s something else. Someone Steve wants, desperately, but like most things in his life, knows he’s not allowed to have. Tony Stark is beyond him in so many ways. Reaching for him seems futile, so Steve stays on the ground, and looks.

Tony fidgets nervously with a mini Phillips Head screwdriver, twiddling it in his long, clever fingers as he stares out the windows at the city sprawled out beneath them.

“They’re from the same company as the guys in the convoy I was with when I—when they—” his voice sputters out before he can say the words. Steve doesn’t push. He doesn’t say anything. He just waits for Tony to gather himself. It’s one of the hardest lessons he’s had to learn about Tony Stark—sometimes it’s better to let him get a handle on himself, rather than jump in and try to handle Tony for him. It doesn’t change the fact that Steve wants nothing more than to hold his hand, now that it’s hanging at his side like its string was just cut. “A while back I dug into Air Force records, talked to Rhodey, got some names. Five people died in the hit that was meant for me. I figured, the least I could do was find five of their closest buddies who needed help.”

Tony glances back at Steve—the little smile on his lips could break Steve’s heart if he let it.

“And I’ve heard you talk about how convoluted the VA is when it comes to services and benefits and whatnot. I figured, my tech probably took their limbs, I should cut out the middle man and give them new ones, myself.”

Something in Steve’s heart shifts irrevocably before kicking into a whole new gear. By the end of the sentence, Steve knows he’s going to do something incredibly rash, the only question is when.

Funny—ten minutes ago he was coming back from a team exercise, prepared to give Tony a friendly but firm talking-to about missing it, and instead here he is, breathless, heart racing, sitting and listening to Tony talk humbly about fixing people because he knows it’s the right thing to do. Because it’s the least he can do. And isn’t that the wildest understatement Steve’s ever heard?

As if anything about Tony Stark could ever possibly be least.

“You built them all those prosthetics?”

“Top of the line!” Tony smirks, saluting Steve with his Phillips Head. “Nothing more high tech in any of them than a heart rate monitor and some other odds and ends—no rocket launcher eyes, don’t worry. I kept my baser urges in check with these.”

“It’s good,” Steve blurts out, too loud and too fast. Tony inhales sharply, fingers clenching around the screwdriver hard enough his knuckles go white. Steve feels his face go hot and groans. “I mean, what you did—what you’re doing—is good, Tony. It’s really generous of you to do that for those guys.”

Steve crosses his arms across his chest to make himself feel safer, more contained. If he doesn’t, who knows where these ridiculous feelings might go. He feels silly enough as it is, blushing and stammering while dressed in his uniform, sans helmet. Even Tony’s probably wondering why he’s wasting his time talking to a red-white-and-blue fossil when he could be downstairs destroying Clint and the others at pool or showing the airmen around the tower, giving them the bells-and-whistles tour.

Tony looks at the floor, away from Steve. Steve feels it like a physical thing, Tony pulling away, retreating, wanting to hide. Amazing, how a man who almost literally wears his heart on his sleeve still thinks he doesn’t have one.

“Yeah, well,” Tony mutters, “it’s good practice, anyways.”

Steve’s thoughts grind to a halt.

“Practice for what?”

Tony starts moving around, shuffling back and forth across the living room floor, looking for something that probably isn’t there. Steve knows when Tony is avoiding eye contact with him—it happens often enough.

“Just a pet project, nothing major. Hey, have you seen my cable knife anywhere?”

“Did you leave it on the floor? Tony…”

“I know, I know, the only thing worse is Legos, but I was busy! You can’t blame me for—OW FUCK!”

Like a shot, Steve is up and holding on to Tony so he doesn’t hop backwards into the glass coffee table. One arm wrapped around his back and the other hand on his bicep, Steve steadies Tony as Tony searches underfoot for whatever hurt him.

He comes up with a magnet the size of a dime.

“Ha,” Tony wheezes. “Speaking of Legos.” He drops it into his pocket along with the laser pointer and whatever else is in there and hangs his head. Rubbing his brow, Tony says: “God. I could sleep for a week after today.”

Steve keeps holding Tony. He should let go, but opportunities like this so rarely present themselves. Plus, Tony feels so good under his hands, strong and warm and just small enough to envelope in a hug if Steve let himself, if Tony wanted him to, and Tony does look dead on his (adorable, bare) feet…

“What else have you been working on today? This pet project?”

“Hah?” Tony breathes, still wincing slightly from stepping on the magnet. “Oh yeah. For Bucky, when you find him. Ow, motherfucker, that hurt…”

The thing about being in Tony Stark’s presence is, it’s so easy to lose the plot. Tony’s mind moves faster than Steve could ever hope to match, mentally or physically; he’s always one pace behind, catching up. It’s fine, though; he actually kind of likes it, being challenged the way Tony challenges him, delighting in the push-pull of their banter and debates, the way Tony teaches him about science and tech and the 21st century without being condescending. Steve gets to a point where he thinks he knows Tony, how he operates, how his brain works—then moments like this happen, and it’s like he’s sprinted smack into a brick wall.

“What?”

“Bucky, you said—are you designing a new arm? For Bucky?”

Tony seems to notice their position at that exact moment. Steve feels him blaze with heat where his hands are touching Tony’s bare skin.

“Uh. Maybe?” At Steve’s look, Tony bites his lip and sighs. “Fine. Yeah, I am. Can you blame me? The thought of Sputnik wandering around the tower with that Cold War-era paperweight hanging off him when I’ve got brand-spanking-new, finely-tuned StarkTech all but ready to go? Perish, Steve, perish the thought.”

Tony is smiling up at him from his place in Steve’s arms, relaxed now, almost leaning into him, and all Steve can think is, he belongs here.

“What’s that face?” Tony asks, curious but still smiling. He pokes Steve in the middle of the forehead with a cheeky grin. “Keep frowning like that, your face’ll stick.”

When, apparently, is right now.

When Steve reaches up and takes Tony’s hand, he gets to watch Tony’s thoughts run into the wall, for once.

When he weaves their fingers together, he gets to watch Tony’s mouth click shut and his eyes go wide. Super-hearing means he can count the beats of Tony’s racing heart without having to feel them. Steve’s telegraphing every movement, every feeling, as much as he possibly can now that words seem to have escaped him.

He must manage okay, because the look that passes over Tony’s face is the same one Steve’s seen in the mirror a thousand times since the day he realized he was halfway in love with Tony Stark: wonder, one part lost, one part found.

When he leans down, slowly, Steve gets to watch Tony’s beautiful eyes flicker and shut. He counts the dark lashes where they rest on Tony’s high cheekbones, breathes in his smell and listens to the shudder in his exhale before drawing him in for a kiss that draws everything else to a quiet, blissful blank.

When Tony pushes his fingers up into Steve’s hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, Steve drops his arms around Tony’s waist and pulls him in close with a soft groan. He’s warm and messy and still holding that damn screwdriver, but he kisses Steve soft and eager like it’s the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life, folds himself into Steve’s embrace like he wants to build a home right there in his arms.

One day Steve will tell him he already did, a long time ago, and it wasn’t the least of anything.

***

more fics on AO3!

#rachel writes fic #I really should slow it down but this one would NOT leave me alone!#tony stark #steve rogers #stevetony #superhusbands #stony #stony fic #stovetuna #prompt fill #this is EXTREMELY SOFT #hopefully it makes up for the angst of the last one ;____;#also lol @ myself thinking ‘this one will be shorter’!!#UGH I FORGOT AIR FORCE RANKS ARE DIFFERENT DAMN IT!#blame my late night brain

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aspoonofsugar · 5 years ago

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Hi! How are you doing? Not sure if it's already been asked, but what are your top 10 favourite canon couples?

Hello!

I am doing fine, thank you! How are you doing?

It is alright, nobody has asked this before, so I can answer! That said, I am not really a hardcore shipper, so I am not sure I will come up with 10 pairs :’‘‘). I’ll do my best though! Also I have interpreted the term “canon” very freely.

As usual, here they are in no particular order:

1) Claire Stanfield and Chane Laforet (Baccano!):

I love their dynamic because they are fundamentally two almost opposite individuals who end up together in a surprising way. On one hand Claire thinks that he is the protagonist not only of his own story, but of the whole world. As a matter of fact he believes that the world is nothing more than a dream of his. Ironically, it is because of this selfish delusion that Claire is able to embrace the whole world:

“So what if I'd spare him? In my mind it's the certainty in myself that I possess which allows me to have that kind of mercy or compassion. There's no wavering on that point. It's fixed like the stars. The fact is I'm never gonna be killed! So remember this: mercy and compassion are virtues that only the strong are privileged to possess. And I am strong.”

On the other hand Chane has chosen to be nothing more than her father’s puppet. She is a satellite character in her own life and can’t absolutely think to live as a protagonist. If Claire’s world is too big, Chane’s too little because it has only her and her father in it. What is more, Chane has gone out of her way to make sure that it stays that way. For example, she asked her father to take her voice away and has not learnt alternative ways to communicate (like sign language).

Given this premise, it is interesting that a person so self-centered like Claire puts a person with such a frail sense of self like Chane at the centre of his world. Claire makes Chane, who is not even the lead of her own story, the heroine of his huge world. Claire instead plays a support role in Chane’s story. It is precisely because of this contradiction that their dynamic works. All in all Chane gets to get in contact with the world through Claire. Because of this, she is challenged to grow. This is another interesting difference between them. On one hand Claire is basically like Peter Pan and can’t really grow psychologically. On the other hand Chane is a character who has changed, but who is scared of this change. This is why she tries to actively regress, but she can’t really go back to who she was.

2) Komugi and Meruem (HxH):

I have explained here what I love about them. Their relationship conveys the themes of the chimera ants arc beautifully. I especially like it because it would have been easy to have Meruem grow fond of Komugi because of her kindness and goodness. However, this is not really what happens. The reason why Meruem is so attracted by Komugi is her prowess as a Gungi player. Komugi is not a character who coddles Meruem, but one who challenges him. As a result Meruem’s attraction for her is rooted in respect. Meruem brings out from Komugi her talent and stubborness, while Komugi brings out from him his caring and kind side. Meruem becomes interested in her because of the traits they share and grows to love what makes her different from him.

3) Ash Lynx and Eiji Okumura (Banana Fish):

I like their relationship, but I would have loved for it to be explored even more throughout the story. All in all, they are attracted to each other because they want something the other has. Eiji wants Ash’s initiative and daring personality, while Ash wants Eiji’s freedom and soothing personality. Eiji wants Ash’s ability to fight for himself, while Ash wants Eiji’s talent to heal others instead of hurting them.

Despite this, they are not fully able to grow as they could have because of the violence of the conflict they are in. Eiji makes some steps in the right direction, but the moment a wound incapacitates him he goes back to his more passive behaviour. When it comes to Ash, he is not able to take fligth like he would like because of self-hate. Their ending is tragic, but I wonder if it could have been different. For example, after a meaningful conflict the two of them decide to avoid fighting and to simply enjoy the time they spend together. This is a relatable choice, but a series of things are left unexpressed and because of this they are not really able to overcome their flaws. Maybe, if they had fought a little more and had called each other out more, things could have been different in the end.

4) Claire Nunez and Jim Lake Jr (Tales of Arcadia):

I have talked about them here. They are two very similar people to the point that they have basically the same flaw. They both feel responsible for bad things happening to them and to their friends. This is why they end up trying to fix everything by their own and fail spectacularly. It is nice to see them find help and support by their loved ones. And it is heart-warming that they keep being there for each other.

5) Chidi Anagonye and Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place):

Eleanor and Chidi are completely different people and this is why they are perfect to challenge each other. Chidi inspires Eleanor to be more selfless and to open up to others, while Eleanor inspires Chidi to be daring. This is obvious since season 1 and it is a constant throughout the series. Their relationship is a good example of a relationship which is conflictual, but enriching. In order to stay together they (other than escaping hell) must overcome their respective flaws. Eleanor must be vulnerable and let Chidi in her life, while Chidi must be decisive and actively choose Eleanor.

I also like that this is true even in those timelines where they do not develop a romantic relationship. The fact that their relationship is the same, but also slightly differs in each reboot makes it gain a very nice thematic meaning and enriches it. All in all, what Chidi and Eleanor represent for each other is always the same and what changes is the platonic/romantic aspect of the bond.

Finally I like the motif of them leaving messages to their future selves about the other. At the end of season 1, Eleanor writes to herself: “Find Chidi”, while at the end of season 3 Chidi writes to himself: “Eleanor is the answer”. This is a very cool motif which conveys their respective growth thanks to the other. Eleanor who only trusts herself chooses to trust Chidi’s ability to help her. Chidi who has spent his whole life searching for answers and failing to write them down decides that Eleanor is all he needs to find meaning in his life.

6) Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye:

Their relationship is my favourite of the whole series. Their characters are beautifully intertwined to the point that they can barely function without the other. This aspect of their bond is not excessively romanticized, but it is presented as a dreadful consequence of the traumatic past they share. At the end of the day Roy and Riza are too highly idealistic people whose ideals were shattered before they could evolve in something more than childish dreams. Despite this, they were able to put the fragments of those great dreams back together and have chosen to sacrifice their personal happiness to realize them.

All in all, Riza and Roy want redemption for their crimes and they find comfort in each other while they try to obtain it. In order to make things better they are ready to sacrifice their own existences and they have given up on the chance of living normal lives as civilians. However, they still have each other.

Roy gives Riza someone to protect, so that she does not fall apart and remains functional, while Riza restrains Roy’s most negative instincts. They make each other better even if they can’t completely overcome the pain of their past. They can just share it with the other.

Finally I especially like the scene where Roy chooses not to transmute humans even if it means Riza will most likely die. As a matter of fact, despite it all, that act is not framed as a betrayal of Riza, but rather as the only thing he can do not to betray her. I love both relationships where a character fixated on an ideal lets go of it because of people and relationships which make a person realize the importance of an ideal. They are both beautiful when well written. Here we are in front of a bond where both aspects are present. On one hand Roy must let go of his desire of vengeance not to lose Riza. On the other hand Roy must let go of Riza not to betray the ideals they share.

In the end theirs is a very tragic and strict relationship, but also a very warm and human one.

7) Kokomi Teruhashi and Saiki Kusuo (Saiki Q):

They are not properly canon since they are not together by the end. However, I think there is enough in the series to support the ship. Anyway, it is still a ship I enjoy a lot (and it is one of the few I feel strongly for, so I am adding it to the list no matter what).

I love their dynamic because it is hilarious, but it could also be surprisingly deep if the narrative wanted to explore it more. Teruhashi is my favourite character of the series because she is a nice subversion of both the yamato nadeshiko trope and of the alpha bitch one. She presents herself as an incredibly beautiful and yet innocent girl, but she is actually very aware of her looks and of others’ reactions. Despite this, she comes along as likeable mostly because she often genuinelly means well despite her being self-centered. Saiki instead projects the image of an average person, but he is actually the most powerful being of the world. In short, Teruhashi and Saiki are both opposite and the same.

They are the same because they both wear a carefully crafted mask. They are opposite because the masks they were are opposite. On one hand Teruhashi’s mask of the perfect girl attracts attention. On the other hand Saiki’s mask of the average guy is meant to make him invisible.

The difference between their two personas is the reason why Saiki wants to avoid Teruhashi at all costs. He wants to be average, so he can’t stay close to a person who attracts so much attention. At the same time, it is clear that Saiki grows to admire Teruhashi specifically because of her ability to always keep her mask up. He knows how difficult it is to realize such a feat and he recognizes Teruhashi’s dedication. Basically Saiki is the only person who knows the real Teruhashi and appreciates her for who she is and not for who she pretends to be.

In short, the series could have done a lot with them if it had wanted to go deeper in their dynamic. Saiki ends up coming to the spotlight multiple times to help Teruhashi, while Teruhashi breaks up her image of perfect girl when close to Saiki.

Unluckily this is the end of the list :’‘‘) I tried to think of other canon couples I enjoy, but even if there are some, I would not call them proper faves. At the same time, there are some ships I enjoy, but they are not properly canon/confirmed to be romantic, so I am not adding them.

Thank you for the ask!

#baccano!#baccano #clairexchane #hxh #komugixmeruem #bf #asheji #trollhunters #clairexjim #royai #fma #chidi x eleanor #the good place #saiki x teruhashi #saiki q #asksfullofsugar #eurekapendragon

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 5 years ago

Text

M*A*S*H: The Characters Part 4: B.J. Hunnicutt, Sherman Potter, Charles Emmerson Winchester III and Conclusion

Of all of the cast shake-ups throughout M*A*S*H’s run, none were more impactful on Hawkeye Pierce than the departure of Trapper McIntyre.

The original ‘sidekick’ and best friend archetype, Trapper’s absence at the 4077th immediately took its toll on Hawkeye, who came back from R&R to find that his best friend had left without a note. For both the audience and Hawkeye, however, there wasn’t much of a wait before his absence was filled with a newcomer: Captain B.J. Hunnicutt (Mike Farrell).

A surgeon hailing from San Francisco, California, B.J. was a newcomer, fresh out of med-school and completely unused to the horrors of front-line surgery. Introduced at the start of the new season, (meeting Hawkeye in the middle of his frantic attempt to say goodbye to Trapper) it became instantly clear that he was no ‘replacement’, but instead almost an opposite, a foil to the previous character’s archetype and to Hawkeye himself.

Where Trapper was a womanizer, B.J. was a loving, devoted husband and family man, a Nice Guy who started the show out as a tad naive, gentle, and idealistic. He was a prankster, sure, but he was more likely to take a stand and argue with Hawkeye than Trapper had been, possessing a temper that, once roused, could be dangerous (leading to at least one physical altercation with Hawkeye). At the beginning, the ways of war are a sudden jolt to him, one that he doesn’t necessarily take well. As with every character, as time goes on, B.J. began to change as a result of the war, growing a mustache in a distinct ‘anti military’ move, and becoming more jaded, slowly evolving into the cynic between himself and Hawkeye.

B.J. was a good man at heart, as concerned for his patients as Hawkeye, but without the level of external breakdown that Hawkeye tended to go into. More of a Tranquil Fury type, B.J. managed to keep a reasonably cool head, (most of the time) and acted as a Morality Chain, a voice of reason where Trapper was an encourager. He was a more mature character, a husband and father increasingly feeling the wear and tear of being forced miles away from his family without any way to see his daughter grow up. He also possessed a nasty jealous streak, seen often when Hawkeye mentioned how much Trapper had meant to him.

Despite their differences, B.J. and Hawkeye became very close friends throughout the show’s run, constantly having each other’s backs and being each other’s coping mechanisms through the horrors of war. As surely as the others, B.J. became part of the 4077th’s family, and as a result, his character required the same amount of closure that the characters that had been there from the beginning deserved.

At the end of the show, B.J., like the others, gets to go home, and we as an audience learn that B.J. really doesn’t like saying goodbye.

After dancing around it through an entire episode, B.J. leaves a final farewell message to Hawkeye, (and the audience) in a heartfelt display of affection to his best friend, the man who made Korea bearable for him. In the end, in a fitting display of the entire basis of his character, B.J. does what Trapper never did: he left Hawkeye a note.

But he wasn’t the only newcomer to make an impression.

Following Henry Blake’s death, the 4077th was in desperate need of a commanding officer (someone to relieve Frank Burns from his tyrannical reign), and replacement came in the form of Sherman Tecumseh Potter.

In much the same vein as B.J. was the complete opposite of Trapper McIntyre, Colonel Potter was very much the Anti-Blake, in the best way possible. A career army-man, Potter was both a dedicated surgeon and a dedicated army man, on his third war. Hailing from Hannibal, Missouri, Potter was just the man to shape the 4077th into some semblance of order, following Henry’s bumbling chaos.

Although still a Reasonable Authority Figure with a sense of humor, Potter was no pushover, standing his ground against Hawkeye and B.J.’s schemes and Frank Burns’ wheedling. A Father to His Men (and an actual grandfather – Potter was another family man, a direct contrast with Henry’s cheating), Potter settled in instantly, a Cool Old Guy with a love of westerns and horses who could be empathetic and caring for his unit in their moments of weakness, and also make sure that Klinger didn’t get away with this week’s Scheme.

Potter was probably one of the characters who developed the least as the show went on, most likely due to his already settled personality as an ‘Old Soldier’, but by no means did he leave Korea unchanged. As the show went on, Potter had moments of hidden depths, notably in terms with hearing the news that the last of his old squadron had died. Potter often grappled with his age, sometimes causing him to feel competitive with his surgical abilities, attempting to prove that he could keep up with the younger doctors. Like the others, despite his age and experience, Potter was very human, afraid of making mistakes, and, after three wars, was thoroughly tired of the killing.

“They keep inventing new ways to kill each other. Why can’t they invent a way to end this stupid war?”

After the war ended, Potter, too, got to go home to his wife, Mildred, saying goodbye to his newfound family, and receiving a genuine salute from both B.J. and Hawkeye, becoming one of two characters Hawkeye ever saluted (the other being Radar). In the end, Potter had his unit’s affection and respect, and left Korea with dignity.

“Well, boys – it would be hard to call what we’ve been through fun, but I’m sure glad we went through it together.”

Despite beginning the show as a potential ‘replacement’ for Henry Blake, he ended it, much as B.J. did for Trapper: as an entirely new character in his own right, who changed the dynamic of the unit in general, bringing a wholly unique style to his command, and the show in general.

But there was one other character who had yet to appear on the show: another ‘replacement’ character who quickly proved that he was no simple replacement.

Exit Frank Burns, replaced with Major Charles Emerson Winchester III (David Ogden Stiers).

Charles Winchester, originally from Boston and then stationed in Tokyo, was a thoracic surgeon and pediatrician, and very good at it. Born into a wealthy family (Very Blue Blood) and schooled at Harvard, Charles was an asset to the 4077th once he was assigned there, (after trouncing a commanding officer at cards and boasting about it) despite multiple pleas to the unmoved Colonel Potter to be reassigned.

“But, know this: You can cut me off from the civilized world, you can incarcerate me with two moronic cellmates, you can torture me with your thrice-daily swill, but you cannot break the spirit of a Winchester. My voice shall be heard from this wilderness, and I shall be delivered from this fetid and festering sewer.”

As with Potter and B.J. before him, Charles proved very quickly to not simply be ‘the new Frank Burns’, displaying instead a completely separate and different series of personality traits, not the least of which was competence.

While Frank’s less than stellar abilities as a surgeon were repeatedly the butt of many jokes (and a source of superiority for Hawkeye, Trapper, and B.J.), Charles was legitimately excellent as his job, his only difficulty being adjusting to the pace and style of ‘meatball’ surgery when not able to utilize the time and equipment available in high-end hospitals. But there was more to Charles than simply being good at his job.

Charles joined the cast to fill in as an antagonistic character, a role vacated by Margaret several seasons ago, and a part left entirely empty thanks to the departure of Frank Burns. However, while Burns tended to be ineffectual, more of a nuisance than a problem, a consistently ‘inferior’ character who was always obviously wrong, Charles typically had more weight and reason to his actions. While consistently butting heads with Hawkeye and B.J., Charles’s snobbery and selfishness could be treated as a joke, yes, and his character overall as ‘worse’ than the other two Swamp inhabitants, but at the end of the day, Charles was simply more human than Frank, and thus, a lot harder to hate.

Despite multiple attempts to ‘Break the Haughty’, Charles remained steadfast and stubborn through his time in the war, a Gentleman Snarker who slowly revealed a Jerk with a Heart of Gold type of personality. He had a great sense of Family Honor, and despite his Insufferable Genius tendencies, proved that he had Hidden Depths, (and a potential history of a Lonely Childhood and Parental Neglect) which occasionally showed to prove to the audience, and the rest of the 4077th, that Charles was no Frank Burns. Indeed, despite never losing his position as a ‘foil’ to the 4077th cast, Charles remained a proud, but good man from the moment he arrived until the moment he left, another symptom of a show who had matured past the need for cartoonish sit-com villains.

Despite the fact that Hawkeye never succeeded in breaking the ‘Winchester spirit’, Charles did leave Korea a changed man. Besides learning to operate in horrendous conditions, at a pace designed merely to keep people alive and not much else, Charles took one final blow in the M*A*S*H finale: “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen” that spoke to both his character, and the toll that war takes in general.

Throughout the show, it was made abundantly clear that Charles adored classical music, viewing it as a haven away from the war, allowing him to forget about it for a little while. His love for music enabled him to connect with a group of Chinese prisoners of war, who know some Mozart. Throughout the episode, Charles teaches them some more, bonding with them until a prisoner exchange sends them away.

Later, the POWs are killed en route to the exchange. As they’re brought back to the 4077th, only one is still alive, and he dies before Charles even has a chance to operate. This devastates him utterly, to the point where he destroys his own record of the song he’d been trying to teach them.

“For me, music has always been a refuge from this miserable experience… now it will always be a reminder.”

In the end, Charles gets to go home, and in a sign of how far he’s come, he leaves the 4077th on the last remaining vehicle, a garbage truck, with utmost dignity, remarking that it’s only fitting. Charles leaves his 4077th family, and the audience, in a somewhat surprising turn of events, misses him, is sorry to see him go in a way that we were never sorry for the absence of Frank Burns.

There were other characters, sure: the paranoid Colonel Flagg, the kitchen and mess hall staffer Igor, Klinger’s mortal enemy, Zelmo Zale, Ascended Extra fan favorite nurse Lieutenant Kelleye, and sympathetic psychiatrist Sidney Freedman, or Margaret’s less than stellar husband, Donald Penobscott. This was more evidence for the care and realistic development that the M*A*S*H world was given: a variety of people filling in alongside the main cast, making a comfortable family that over eleven years, viewers got to know very well.

In the history of television, very few casts have had the lasting impact on viewers the way the M*A*S*H cast did. At the end of eleven years, the audience was owed that finale, a way to say goodbye in a fulfilling way to characters that had become very familiar, important, almost real to viewers who had been tuning in to see them grow and change for over a decade.

The cast of M*A*S*H each served a place in the stories, with unique characters with depth and personality that transcended the flat character types typical of sitcoms just a tad previously. The audience knew these people. They liked these people. Every character feels real, genuine, and memorable, and their dynamics are nearly as memorable as the characters themselves.

Throughout the show, you watched these characters grow and change, finding new ways to approach situations, as viewers got familiar with the core traits of their individual personalities. They work very well as characters, as people, both entertaining and compelling figures for the audience to want to spend time with every week. They felt real, like people you could know in real life.

And it worked.

M*A*S*H’s characters are still loved to this day, for being both entertaining and stellar examples of what happens when television characters are written like real people, with flaws and growth and kindness in varying doses.

In the end, it is that humanity in each character that gives M*A*S*H it’s longevity, and what places these characters as some of the most iconic and beloved in American television history.

Thank you guys so much for reading! Join us next time as we discuss M*A*S*H’s place in the times and the culture. If you have anything you’d like to say, don’t forget to leave a comment! I hope to see you all in the next article.

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apeachtea · 5 years ago

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The three times Steve Rogers helps you breathe, and the one time you help him

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: mentions of several panic attacks, violence, major character death, angst, mentions of blood and injuries

Y'ALL this been in my notes for years and I could never finish the last bit before now

Joining the Avengers was the second easiest thing you had ever done. With combat skills that rivaled the Black Widow herself and a precision close to Hawkeye's, all it took was Tony Stark witnessing you take out a group of alien robots, without breaking a sweat, and you were in.

Now the easiest thing you had ever done? Falling in love with Steve Rogers. It was the little things at first, his kind eyes and contagious, bright smile that made your heart flutter and bring out a smile of your own even on your worst days, and his golden heart that always wanted to make sure you felt right at home with the rest of the Avengers. But then you got to know him. His eagerness to do what was right, his passion for drawing, watching movies and talking for hours on end once the screen turned black. His fears, not being able to protect everyone. When nightmares became too much, he always welcomed you at his door late at night with tired eyes, eyebrows furrowed at your shaking, sweat-coated form. His words and a soft, reassuring embrace always brought you back, made you feel safe and warm.

There were times you felt like a nuisance, disrupting Steve's sleep for problems he shouldn't have to care for, but he promised he didn't mind, he'd never mind. And you realised that when you found out you were the only one who had access to his room at every hour of every day. And one night a soft knock at your door stirred you from your sleep, and there stood Steve, panting with tears in his eyes from his own demons that haunted him in his sleep, and you welcomed the super-soldier in his most vulnerable state with open arms and soothing words. You were always there for Steve, and he was always there for you.

The first time it happened was on a mission with Natasha and Steve. It was meant to be quick and easy, follow the suspect and capture him. Except he grew too antsy and held a woman, not much older than yourself, at gun point when he realized the Avengers had been tracking him. With you on the roof of a nearby building as their sniper, Natasha had told you to take the shot. The shot was risky, with a crowd of people surrounding him, and the target was much farther than you've had experience sniping with, and you hesitated before you shot. That one second of doubt is what got the woman killed; the target pulled his trigger before you pulled yours.

You've had your fair share of panic attacks before, so you knew when one was coming. Back on the quinjet, Steve and Natasha tried to convince you it wasn't your fault, but their pleas fell on deaf ears as you stared numbly at the floor, thoughts racing a mile a minute. Steve picked up on the change of your demeanor immediately, you'd never acted this way in front of him before. So when you excused yourself as soon as the quinjet landed, and all but ran to your room, he followed you. His heart broke at the sight of your trembling body, collapsed on the floor of your bedroom with tears streaming down your face, clutching your chest as you struggled to get a gasp of air in your lungs. He fell to his knees and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to face him.

"Shh, shh, I got you," he soothed. He breathed in and out slowly, waiting for you to follow his lead. And his beautiful blue eyes was what did it for you, filled with concern and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint but it made you feel safe, and made your head spin with how fast it calmed you. You followed his breathing with stuttering breaths and closed your eyes as he pressed his forehead against your own. You licked your lips, your tears leaving a salty taste, as you listened to his words. "I'm here. I'm right here." One of his hands found its way into your own, and he gave it a gentle squeeze as he stroked your cheek with his thumb, as if to make you aware that his words held nothing but truth. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. I promise," he whispered.

You talked about everything and nothing that night, anything to get your mind off of it. And when you were ready, Steve held you in his arms as you cried and cried because you felt responsible for that innocent woman's death. Nothing but gentle reassurances and words of encouragement and understanding were spoken the rest of the night. And in the morning, when both you and Steve had woken up in your bed, facing each other, you had your first kiss.

The second time it happened was in the middle of a forest outside of a Hydra base. You and Steve had infiltrated the base and had taken out groups of Hydra personnel before Steve ran ahead, eager to protect you and finish the mission. That was his greatest strength, yet his biggest weakness, you believed, he cared about everyone's safety before his own. Footsteps echoed behind you, and you reacted quick as you ducked, and swept your leg out, knocking the man onto his back. You stomped on his wrist and heard a crack as he cried out and released the gun, bending forward, you placed both hands on his upper arm and dislocated his shoulder, rendering his dominant hand useless.

"No, please!" He cried out. You kicked the gun away and stood back, eyes squinted at the man in front of you. He sat up, clutching onto his arm. "The whole place is rigged to blow. Please, let me go."

And then it hit you, how easy it was for you and Steve to enter. The few goons you two ran into that were way too easy to defeat. It was a trap. Tapping into the comms, you ran through the base. "Captain, get the fuck out of there. This place is wired to blow!" You tried to look for him, searching every corner, only to come up empty. "Steve!" you pleaded.

Finally, he answered over the comms. "Understood, Y/N," he answered, slightly out of breath. "Get out. I'll be right there."

And you didn't even hesitate to find an exit and make your way into the forest outside. "Captain?" you yelled out, searching around for the familiar head of blond hair and striking blue eyes. "Steve!" Before you could call out to him a third time, the entire base blew up, and you fell to the ground. Standing up on shaky legs, hands pressed to your ringing ears, you examined where the building once stood, now nothing left but rubble, smoke, and fire in the aftermath. You were quick to tap into the comms again. With a shaky voice, you whispered, "Steve?" Only to receive no response. "Please," you begged. "Please, no!" you cried out.

You were an idiot to leave him behind. You could've helped him, and you both could've gotten to safety together. Instead, you were foolish enough to believe Steve wouldn't run into any trouble, that he'd get out in time, when he could've gotten out faster if you were just there with him. And now... Now he might be gone. The blame, the thought of never waking up in his arms ever again, never being able to kiss him, never even telling him how much you loved him, it became too much, and you found yourself on your knees. Hands clutching on to the dew-covered grass, as you struggled to find your breath.

A set of arms encircled around your waist as someone turned you around. And there were those beautiful blue eyes you thought you'd never see again. One hand clutched in your own, and another cupping your face. "Shh, I got you, baby. I'm here. I'm right here." A squeeze and the rubbing of his thumb against your cheek. In and out, he breathed for you. In and out. In and out. Blue eyes filled with concern and love, you finally realized all those nights ago. "It's okay, doll. It's gonna be okay. I promise."

And when you finally could breathe again, you kissed him with everything in you. And you told him you loved him for the first time over and over again and cried when he said it back.

The third time it happened was when the Avengers fell apart. Steve found Bucky and caused tension between Tony and himself. He promised you Bucky didn't do anything, and that anything Bucky had done had been under the influence of Hydra. The Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky, not the Bucky he knew, the Bucky that came back to him when he saved Steve's life. And you believed him because you trusted him with every fiber of your being. After the Sokovia Accords were introduced, you refused to take sides, and although a little upset, Steve understood because the Avengers were the only family you had left, and you hated to see it divided.

So when Steve had come back to you, shieldless, bruised and bleeding, claiming the Avengers were no more, you couldn't help your mind from racing. What did this mean for your family? For Tony? For Steve? Would you ever see any of them ever again? Your breath escaped you yet again, and you clutched on to Steve because you felt lost and confused. After 2 years of being with the Avengers, being with Steve, it's all you knew. What did this mean for you?

An instinct now, Steve cupped your cheek and clutched your hand. Blue eyes staring into your own. "Shh, doll. I got you. I've always got you." In and out. "I'm right here." A squeeze and a kiss on your forehead. In and out. "It's gonna be okay." He spoke clearly and forcefully because you needed to hear that more than anything right now. "I promise you, sweetheart. It's gonna be okay."

And as you both held each other and cried because things were never meant to go as far as they did, you realized that as long as you had Steve, you'd be fine because although the Avengers were your family, Steve was your home.

Two years had passed, and you had been in hiding with Steve ever since. There was the occasional visit to Wakanda to see Steve's oldest friend, Bucky, but you were never allowed to remain in one place for too long. Two years of running and a new threat had emerged, one bigger than any superhero had ever faced, the Avengers toughest villain yet: Thanos. You stood alongside Steve, Bucky, T'Challa, Okoye and many other heroes as you desperately fought against the Black Order and their giant army.

All it took was one glance, eager to find a head of blond hair and piercing blue eyes, one moments distraction for Proxima Midnight to use the split second of weakness to pierce you with her spear. She barely acknowledged you, moving swiftly on to another battle as if you were as inconvenient as an annoying mosquito.

You only felt pain for the second she stabbed you and removed her spear. It felt numb afterward, but you could feel yourself grow weak as you fell to your knees, no longer able to support yourself.

You could faintly hear Bucky call for Steve as he watched the blood pour out of your wound, but the battle around you became background noise as you clutched your stomach, hands quickly drenched in red. Your ears were ringing, and just as you were about to fall forward, a pair of strong arms caught you before you felt yourself being lifted up.

Steve ran into the woods, anxious to get you somewhere safe. He laid you in his lap, sitting against a tree, eyes wild and frantic as he pressed his hand against the gaping wound in your abdomen, anything to stop the amount of blood that was leaving your body.

You gazed up at his face, beautiful as ever, with hooded eyes, trying your hardest to stay awake and enjoy your final moment with the love of your life.

"I-I... I c-can't," Steve murmured, voice breaking and tears falling at the sight of you. "Not you," he whispered. His breath was leaving him and his eyes were filled with fear as he searched everywhere to find something, anything to help you.

You recognized the signs immediately, suspicions confirmed when his chest began rising and falling quickly, body trembling, as Steve gasped, trying his hardest to get air into his lungs.

And so you lifted a shaky hand up to his cheek, ignoring the way it stained his face red. "Shh," you whispered. "I got... you," reciting the words he'd told you many times before. You breathed in and out for him, like he'd done for you all those moments before. He watched you with eyes filled with heartbreak, but he followed your breathing with stuttering gasps and ignored the way you wheezed, as if breathing was becoming harder and harder for you.

You placed your other hand over his, against your wound, squeezing with the last bit of strength you had. "I'm," you inhaled shakily, "right h-here." Your movements were slow and weak, removing your hand from his cheek and kissing your pointer and middle finger before bringing them to his sweat-coated forehead. "Y-You... Y-You'll be... okay. I p-promise," you uttered, voice breaking and your own tears beginning to show and match his own at the thought of never seeing Steve again. But he didn't need to know how much it pained you to be a part from him, he needed to be reassured that his life would go on, that he would be okay, like he reassured you many times before.

Your hands fell limply as you felt your life slipping away. "Breathe for me, baby," you whispered, Steve choking on a sob. "I love you."

And when he took his first breath, you took your last.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #avengers #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #captain america angst #steve rogers imagine #mcu #mcu x reader #angst #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #oneshot

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banashee · 5 years ago

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Love comes on two and four legs

Bucky curses up a blue storm as he realizes he’s forgotten his umbrella at the therapist’s office - again. He knows he’s had the last appointment of the day though, so they’re likely closed by now, and besides, he is already halfway home. There is no use in going back now when he’ll be back again on Friday.

In a vain attempt to stay somewhat dry, he pulls the collar of his leather jacket as high as he possibly can, hurrying through the streets of New York in pouring rain. No one looks at him twice, which is a relief. He’s still kinda new to this civilian kind of lifestyle and when he’d first started therapy, he’d been an anxious wreck. Always feeling watched, uncomfortable in his own skin to the point where he’d refused to leave the flat on his own.

It’s been two years since then, and while there still is a lifetime of trauma to work through and he’s having his fair share of bad days, there is no denying that Bucky is generally happy these days.

Deep thunder rumbles in the sky, and the raindrops only get thicker - Bucky is almost running, but he is long since soaking wet.

“Seriously Thor, now? You couldn’t have waited for like 30 minutes or so?” he complains under his breath as another thunder rumbles. Then he takes a sharp corner and hurries past an alleyway.

Or at least, he wants to hurry, but then he picks up a small noise and stops in his tracks.

There it is again. A small, high pitched whine, coming from a dumpster.

Bucky frowns, stepping closer. When he opens the lid and the stench of New York garbage creeps up into his nostrils, but the meowing gets louder.

A second later, Bucky is ripping open the plastic bag where the noise is coming from and then, a tiny, dirty ball of fur looks up at him with large blue eyes. It just about breaks his heart. Carefully, Bucky reaches out and picks the kitten up into his arms.

“Oh, sweetheart. Who did this to you?”

Another, pitiful meow is the answer. When Bucky runs one finger of his flesh hand softly over the kittens head, it starts purring immediately.

“You’re coming home with me.” he decides, and wraps his new little friend into his leather jacket - suddenly, getting soaked through doesn’t look as bad anymore.

The rest of the way is wet and cold, but there is a purring ball of fur snuggled up against his chest and Bucky knows the kitten already stole his heart. Huh. So this is what it must be like to be Clint - he’ll give him so much shit for this, after years of Bucky accepting his tendency to pick up any animal that is abandoned or lost that crosses his way. Which is a lot.

But Clint is unable to leave anything to suffer without at least trying to help, and as much as Bucky teases him for turning their apartment into a foster home for strays on a regular basis, he loves him for it. He loves him for it because it shows how much he cares.

And now he’s picked up a stray of his own.

When Bucky opens the door to their apartment he does so with one hand and calls,

“Darling, I’m home!”

A blond head peaks up from behind a huge coffee pot.

“Hey Baby!”

Clint gets up from his spot on the breakfast bar and crosses the room to greet his boyfriend. He stops right before he goes for a hug and just pecks him on the lips before asking,

“What’cha got there?” while gesturing to the bundled up leather jacket in his arms.

As if on cue, the white kitten wiggles it’s head out and meows again.

“Found her - him? - I’ll go with ‘her’ for now - in a dumpster. Poor thing was screaming her head off in a plastic bag.” Bucky explains, and Clint carefully reaches out, letting the kitten sniff his hand before gently petting it.

“Poor baby. Who’s the bastard who did this to you, huh? I just want to talk.” he asks the kitten and once again, it’s purring under the touch. Clint smiles fondly. He’s always had a knack for picking up strays, and it sure looks like he’s finally rubbed off on Bucky.

It’s not like Bucky would be anything but wonderful and supportive. He helps to take care of the little and not-so-little critters, stays up all night if needed and he will make runs to the vet and to get supplies without getting told or a single word of complaint. He’ll happily do all that and much more, but until now, it’s always been Clint who turned up home with a creature in need. Dogs, cats, birds. One one occasion, even a ferret, which was quickly picked up by his very grateful owner.

Besides seething anger towards the people who are cruel enough to abuse and abandon animals and rapidly building up love for the kitten, this whole situation leaves Clint quietly gleeful. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“We still have kitten formula in the kitchen, do we?” Bucky asks, scratching the fluffy chin and smiles when kitty leans into his touch.

“Always.”

They’re well stocked up on animal supplies, prepared for unexpected fluffy or feathery visitors any time of the day.

“Wanna go change while the water heats up?”

Bucky has no idea how long the cat was left in that alleyway, but he’s sure she must be starving. So he shakes his head.

“I’m good for now.”

The milk is prepared in no time, and Bucky feeds it to her with a small syringe and special nips just for this purpose.

He’s always been fond of animals, and living with Clint and Lucky certainly has gotten him used to being surrounded by them. But right at this moment, something fierce and protective is burning in his chest. As the white, fluffy ball of fur is hungrily drinking the offered milk, mewling a little every now and then, and Bucky just knows he’s done for.

He’s had this cat for not even an hour, and he already knows he’d willingly kill and die for her - Clint looks at him, with a small smile and so much love, he clearly knows what Bucky is thinking right at this moment.

After all, Clint himself had beat up a bunch of assholes and then paid a fortune at the vet when he rescued Lucky from the very same asses he’d kicked that day.

No words are needed, but when the kitten is no longer hungry and Bucky is stroking her fur with so much care and a happy little smile, he takes a good look at him and another one at the cat.

Bucky looks soaked and cold, and he should have gotten out of his clothes much sooner. The cat, although dry, has dark spots caked in her fur. It’s a very sorry sight, the two of them.

Clint runs one gentle hand through his boyfriends long dark hair and his fingertips over the kittens head. He decides to break up this cozy round before all of them fall asleep right on the spot.

“Okay, I think Kitty here needs a bath and so do you.”

Bathing is not exactly the kittens favourite activity. She voices her disapproval with constant tiny meows while Bucky keeps apologizing over and over, reassuring the cat that it’s all for the best.

They seem to have come to a mutual understanding once she’s clean and wrapped into a fluffy towel. It’s been warmed up on the heater, and the sound of content purring keeps Bucky company while he steps into the shower himself.

When washing his hair with a conditioner, he can make out the sound of the doorbell going off, quickly followed by excited barking, a female voice and laughter. All of this can only mean one thing - Kate is here and she brought Lucky back.

Both of these things are great news, and by the time both Bucky and the cat leave the bathroom, she’s already sprawled on the armchair with her legs hanging over one side. She’s gesturing with her hand holding a mug of coffee while Clint nods along to her story, attention half on her and half on Lucky who demands belly scratches from him.

“Katie!” With a wide grin, Bucky reaches down to ruffle her hair. She hates this particular move. Most people would lose a finger for attempting this, but Kate loves Bucky and always lets him get away with it. So naturally, he does it whenever he gets the chance.

“Robocop!” Kate exclaims happily, catches his arm and pulls him down for a hug. Bucky needs to angle his body so the bundled up cat cradled in his other arm doesn’t get crowded.

“Good to see you. And careful there, we’ve got a visitor.”

The cat chirps at that, like she’s trying to say, “Hi, yes, I’m here!” and Kate scoots closer to take a look.

“Hello tiny one. Who are you?” Kate coos at the kitten, gently reaching out. Cautiously at yet another new human, the cat sniffs at her hand, then accepting Kate petting her.

About a minute later, three grown adults and one large dog are sprawled across the living room floor as they watch the kitten slowly emerge from the towels and start exploring her new environment.

Lucky seems to be interested, but remains calm. He is long used to meeting other animals, and so far, he has been gentle and well behaved with all of them. As time goes on, the kitten gets a little braver and walks straight up to the dog.

Lucky is crouched down to the floor with his front paws, back legs propped up and tail wagging. As the cat walks up to him, the message “come on, let’s play!” is written all over his face and he boops her with his nose.

The size difference is enormous. Lucky is a large dog, and although he is of gentle nature, there is a lot of strength packed into him. He might get overexcited and waltz into people, clear the living room table with his tail or tackle Clint to the floor whenever he comes home dead on his feet, but he knows to be careful when interacting with kids or smaller animals.

This kitten is literally the size of his snout. Despite this, she lumbers over and cautiously raises one tiny paw and quickly taps Lucky’s nose. He sniffs her, then gives her another boop with his nose. After a while of back and forth, he simply flops down onto the floor without a care in the world and the kitten curls up on Bucky’s lap again to take a long nap.

It’s been a long, long day.

When Bucky is curled around Clint that night, with Lucky by their feet and a little nest of blankets and a heating pad for kitty to cocoon into right next to the bed, he’s happy and content. Part of him is wondering, wishing… With a sigh, he falls asleep and the last thing he notices is the feeling of fur under his fingertips from where his hand is dangling off of the bed. Then a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on his neck, and he is out like a light.

The next day, first thing after breakfast, they make a field trip to their usual vet. While the kitten didn’t seem to be particularly unwell, they want to make sure she is all well as she can be - especially to think of the way Bucky has found her in the first place.

He’s done this countless times before, and yet this is different. Bucky finds himself even more concerned, even more protective than usual, but as it turns out, the kitten is as well as she can be. A little girl, mostly healthy although undernourished. With love, care, time and regular check ups, she will have a happy start in life, the vet says with a smile and sends them back on their way.

Both Bucky and Clint are relieved to hear this - as adorable as the first evening has been, both of them have been concerned.

“So…” Clint starts, pulling Bucky out of his kitty-watching-trance as they sit in the subway with the carrier in between them, “Do you know what you wanna call her?”

It only takes him one long look into the blue eyes and the fluffy white fur to decide.

“Alpine. I think she looks like Alpine.”

As if to agree, Alpine chirps and Bucky all but melts into a puddle. This cat has totally wrapped him around her paw and she knows it.

“I just-” he stops himself, but Clint looks at him questioningly. “I just hope whoever ends up adopting her likes that name, too.”

Bucky is pathetically proud that he sounds as calm as he does. He has fallen heads over heels in love with this little creature, and as much as he’d love to keep her, he knows they can’t keep every stray they find. Letting go means more space for more little lives they can save.

“Oh I’m sure he does.” Clint answers instantly.

“Wait, you already know…?”

“Of course. He’s kinda tall, dark hair, a bit grumpy looking. Metal arm,” Clint continues, and Bucky is left sitting there dumbfounded as he alternates between staring into his boyfriend’s eyes and into the cat carrier.

“...Real handsome fella, great abs by the way, and don’t get me started on-” Okay, so he’s definitely blushing now. Goddamnit.

“Oh my God, Clint, stop flirting, you’ve already got me. Can we maybe go back to the part where Alpine is somehow… Mine?”

The little old lady sitting across from them chuckles, shoots them a fond look and then pretends to look out the window instead of eavesdropping on their conversation. She is not nearly as sneaky as she might think - or maybe she just doesn’t care.

Clint blinks, then smiles. “Of course. You’ve found her, and I don’t think anyone would be able to separate the two of you even if they tried. Not that I’d want to. I love watching you interact with her.”

“Aww, how sweet.” the old lady coos, and Bucky can feel his cheeks heat up even more, but there are butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t think he could fall any more in love with this wonderful man next to him. He is well aware that he is probably grinning like a fool, but he’s too happy to care.

He is in love, life is good, and he’s a Cat Dad now. Taking the hand Clint is offering in his own, fingers intertwined, he remains mostly in silence for the rest of the ride home.

Really, what else could he possibly wish for?

If anyone would have told him a few years ago that this would be his life one day, he’d have thought it to be a cruel joke. But it’s very much real, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“Lucky, we’re home!”

The announcement is entirely unnecessary, since the dog in question is already waiting behind the door, ready to greet his humans in the proper fashion he approves of - running face first into their legs and getting up on his hind legs to be able to reach their faces to lick.

“Hey, boy. Yes, I know, we’ve been gone forever.” Clint is rubbing Lucky’s ears just the way he knows he loves, and is rewarded with a sweet, absolutely content, open mouthed doggy smile and a wagging tail.

Bucky snorts - it’s not even lunch time, but try explaining that logic to the dog. It doesn’t stop him from petting Lucky just as much as always, because coming home here still feels like the best thing ever.

“Look, your little sister is back home again.” Bucky tells the dog while gently ruffling his fur.

With perfect timing as always, Alpine is strolling out of the now open carrier like she owns the world, then she patiently allows Lucky to lick her head a few times. She leans into the touch and flops down to the floor, completely happy where she is as long as Lucky remains close to provide a heat source.

Later in the day, Bucky naps on the couch with Alpine curled up on his chest. Her purring vibrates through him like a little motor, and while dozing off, he can feel something settle deep in his chest.

Bucky is on the way out of his therapists office once again when his phone vibrates with a new text message from Clint. He steps to the side in the hallway, because of course it’s pouring from the skies outside once again.

When he opens up their ongoing conversation, there are two new messages - a video, and a row of purple hearts and crying emojis. Nothing else.

He uses the wifi of the building to download the video, and when he lets it play, Bucky is about to melt into a puddle right there and then.

The video shows the cozy corner by the heater in their bedroom, and Lucky is in his usual spot in his fluffy dog bed. From the side of the frame, Alpine climbs into it and snuggles up right into the dog's face.

Alpine is as tiny and fuzzy as always, which never fails to steal anyone's heart.

But especially next to Lucky’s giant head and the way he grooms her until she’s got enough and simply wants to snuggle more has Bucky clutching his phone in a deathgrip, smiling all over and getting impatient to be home.

Before he heads off, he replies with just about the same emojis that Clint sent with his message, then Bucky forwards the video to Steve, Nat and Sam.

Another night, not long after, Clint walks into the apartment to find music playing loudly.

He doesn’t need to go far in to check what’s going on, because he can already see Bucky waltzing through the room with Alpine in his arms, looking like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

Clint falls in love with him all over again, and he spends quite a bit of time just standing in the doorway, watching the scene in front of him with a besotted smile. He loves coming home to this - so much.

When Bucky sees him, he waltzes over, still holding Alpine in one arm, he pulls Clint close to dance with him - and who is he to deny a beautiful man his wish when he looks at him with so much sparkling happiness in his eyes?

It doesn’t matter that Bucky is in sweatpants and fluffy socks while Clint still wears his combat boots, carefully avoiding stepping on any toes. They’re simply living in the moment, as best as they can.

Lucky, sprawled all over the couch, just blinks his one remaining eye open to watch what the funny humans are up to now - then he dozes back off, content just where he is.

*+~

Prompt No. 27 - Little Sister

Notes:

This is the most adorable video. And it was my inspiration for writing this ♥

https://banashee.tumblr.com/post/626543621873795072/everythingfox-illegally-small-via

#banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #winterhawk #tw animal abuse

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timeslidingsonuvabitch · 5 years ago

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CABLE & FAMILY

Cable was quite a few years older than his wife when they met.

The 38-year-old Cable first encountered the 20-year-old Aliya during the war, where mutants fought just to survive day to day. She was one of the mutants within the refuge from which Cable’s group operated. A healer by profession, Aliya often found herself patching up the soldier as no one else could argue him into having his injuries tended rather than ignoring them and pushing through to his next objective.

Over time, the two grew close. While Cable was perhaps a bit reluctant, the two began to see each other, largely due to the stubbornness of his eventually-to-be wife. At his insistence, they waited a full year before they were married. For a very short time, they were happy, despite the perils around them.

Later that same year, however, Cable was infected with the Techno-Organic Virus, which was meant to kill him by turning all organic material to metal. The virus only partially succeeded as Cable realized he could prevent the virus from spreading further throughout his body, so long as he devoted the entirety of his telekinetic powers to holding it at bay.

Nothing was the same between Cable and Aliya after the virus.

Despite the fact that they still loved each other, they became estranged and might even have divorced had it not been for the fact that Aliya discovered she was expecting their child even while Cable still transitioned to using his powers in this new way to quarantine the virus.

Throughout the film, Cable seems to have this continued struggle with feeling ‘more machine than man’. There’s even a scene where he stands in front of a mirror, inspecting the metal [ pictured further down in this post ].

There’s also his comment about it during his speech to Weasel about pain.

“Peacetime makes people soft. I was born into war. Bred into it… What’s the most pain you’ve ever felt? … People think they understand pain. They have no concept of it beyond their own worst experience. 5 years old. That’s, what? A bee sting? 20 years old, shrapnel. 40 years old, disease. Maybe the kind that leaves you more machine than man.”

It seems to me that perhaps his wife simply couldn’t get past it, both his near brush with death and the way the virus changed him. She would suddenly find something else she needed to do if he put his affected arm around her. She tended to shy away if he reached for her with his now metallic left hand. And she would only hold hands with him for any significant amount of time if it was with his right hand. She was visibly uncomfortable if he was shirtless in the house, and had difficulty meeting his gaze if the cybernetic eye lit up.

While I do not believe that she meant to react this way to any of it, this was a significant change. And Cable mentions that she had her own issues. That she struggled. That she ‘filtered her pain through a prism of humor’. I think that this was just one thing too much on her and, the truth is, she was indeed still fairly young.

They still loved each other, but, had it not been for Hope, they might eventually have divorced. Cable couldn’t bear to see how uncomfortable he made her, how she reacted every time to any reminders of the change, and he hated keeping her tied down to someone who––if his powers gave out for some reason––might die even sooner. Aliya hated to see that pain and guilt from him, no matter how well he tried to hide it, and she hated that she was the cause of it and that she wasn’t, in her mind, strong enough to get past it for him. But he just wasn’t the same man she married, and it wasn’t fair to her or to him or to them.

It’s like my friend said when I was discussing this with her. This is something akin to how anyone might struggle when they have a spouse/partner who is suffering from something that could be terminal. There was a lot of weight on her shoulders, and it was taxing on all fronts. But she felt she couldn’t place more of that on Cable by confiding in him about it. After all, he had enough to deal with on his own, having to––every second of every day, waking or sleeping––hold back a virus that could kill him. She couldn’t exactly go to anyone else either as she felt that it would be seen as complaining, and Cable is a war hero of sorts, injured in the line of duty. Why should she be complaining, right? So she just kept everything bottled up, even as they grew more and more estranged.

They stayed together largely for Hope, and because Cable knew he could better protect the both of them if they were together. Because, despite everything, he did still love Aliya.

Hope, on the other hand, never had the same issues as her mother. The only way Hope ever knew her dad was after the virus had already changed him. She would hold his hand, whichever was more convenient at the time, metal or flesh. She would ask to be picked up and snuggle up to him right away. Whenever he would come back from missions, she would spend time with him, have him play tea parties and the like. She always lifted his spirits, and thus, she truly was his Hope.

That’s why, though losing his wife to Firefist’s attack was difficult, losing Hope would have killed him had he not gone back to reverse it.

In at least one of my verses, Aliya later dies in an unrelated fire incident. Russell––the very one who had doomed them last time––isn’t able to save Aliya, but he does manage to save Hope. Cable only discovers this after returning to his own time (after he finds out that Wade repaired his device). Afterwards, he is forced to make a tough decision. To remain in the future to raise his daughter, or to return to the past where he can do the most good. In the end, he decides to bring Hope with him into the past.

Now, regarding romantic relationships in general…

Cable would be extremely reluctant to get into another relationship, for a wide variety of reasons, and he almost certainly would not seek out a relationship as he is quite certain he does not want or need another one.

For one, he has his daughter to look after, and he’s––at least as of the events in Deadpool 2, based on the actor’s age––50-years-old so he doesn’t really see where anyone would be interested. Or that he would be interested in attempting to start over at this stage in his life.

Another reason, and perhaps one of the biggest ones, is that he isn’t at peace with himself, and it’s clear when he makes statements about being ‘more machine than man’ and, again, with moments such as when he’s standing in front of the mirror.

Does that look like someone who is comfortable with his appearance?

I was telling my friend that Cable isn’t quite to [ Fraction ] comic Hawkeye’s level of self-hatred/self-sabotage/self-destruction––he does have his daughter to take care of, after all, and he’s all she has left––but he isn’t in the healthiest place mentally and he doesn’t hold himself in high regard. In large part, this might be due to the fact that he has spent the last ten years in a marriage where his wife was barely able to look at him because he was ‘more machine than man’. [ Had she been able to move past it, I think he might eventually have done so as well. He would still fought to prevent the virus from spreading, but he might at least have come to terms with what it had done to him. ]

And, besides simply his appearance and the ramifications of the virus, he is also quite aware of his personality flaws. Taciturn. Jaded. Pessimistic. Brooding.

Essentially, if someone ever said they were interested in him, he would probably scoff and call them a liar.

#|| more machine than man || { about cable }#|| now this is just lazy writing || { ooc }#// do not reblog #// Copying this over from his old blog #// Mashed up some of his comic backstory #// Aliya was his first wife in the comics #// She was killed #// He remarried later to a woman named Hope #// who was killed protecting the nameless child who was the first mutant born after M day #// He named the child Hope to honor his wife #// As Deadpool 2 has his wife alive with their daughter who is roughly 10 years old #// and because it would become confusion for them both to be named Hope #// I chose to go with the name of his first wife

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