#not that it ever needed explanation but i find it neat!

[shkika]

SPEARMASTER ENJYOER HERE WAHKJGDSJDAJHS UR COMICS ARE SO GOOD!!!!

Curious................what happened to spearmasters parents/how does suns know them? And also why did suns remove spears mouth?!

Suns used to often direct creatures to their can to help them! As insufferable as they are, they did do good. Even if it was a way to cope and feel better with what they have been made to do by their colony before it all ascended.

Those two slugcats are critters that have passed by before and it’s why when their child is sickly and needs aid, they come to Suns!

Also Suns removes Spearmaster’s mouth, because it’s a good design choice for a messenger! I think it’s very underappreciated how well they modified the little guy. A mouth would risk the pearls getting lost on the way! It being inside them helps with both that issue and, according to Suns, gives them a sense of purpose.

Of course to make up for the lack of vocalization, they were taught sign language so that they could still express themselves and be communicated to. Suns expressed that they did care about understanding this creature, they didn’t want communication to be one way. I find it really charming if SRS ended up being very surprised with just how smart this slug cat turned out to be. I know I am! This thing can write! SM writes “Hunter” in one of their sleeping doodles iirc.

SM also marks a shelter for messengers or other creatures that come after it in Pebbles’ underhang.

[thefirstknife]

Feeling abnormal about Echoes continues. Apologies for the scrunchy screenshots, it's from a recording. Immediately starts with Saint and Osiris killing me on the spot:

A little bit of comedy to ease on the crying:

Help. Osiris obviously doesn't want to do this because like. He's seen this before and it made him very unwell. Seeing Saint's dead body is very clearly not something he wants to experience again, but Failsafe says that Saint needs him so he goes anyway. Yippee.

Then the answer to my question. Nessus basically holds an archive for the Vex which includes the archives from the Forest, which is where we're going. I expected something that doesn't require lengthy explanations about how we're getting to the Forest. Saint even helpfully asks:

Some more info:

This is a really neat explanation that migth allow us to revisit this some time without having to go through the hoops of complicated shenanigans with what happened to the original Forest (and Mercury). But also it does leave me with the feeling that they may just never give us that answer. This will take me a while to process and come to terms with.

More interactions to kill us:

And then the big room. I'll put it under read more because damn:

From above where you enter:

It's a whole new area. It's absolutely bizarrely filled with a lot of details. There's four gates to the Forest, each designed differently. Spent a long time wandering around trying to figure stuff out and it's quite interesting. Makes me feel like we will use this area for something again because this level of brand new designs only being used one would be very strange.

So this one without the actual blue barrier:

This is the "Nessus" gate. When you gate closer, you can see the new plants from this episode and stuff. It's also used at the end of the mission to leave to the core of Nessus. The other three gates have the barriers and they later open, though we can only enter one of them. The one from behind that's basically the last you can actually see... Is Europa:

The snow? The ice crystals? The blue ice streaks? This is completely new. It looks like a gate leading to Europa. When it opens later, the enemies that come out of here are the normal Vex, which you can also see on Europa. I'm saying that because other gates have Vex associated with what the gate looks like. This is unhinging me. What does this mean. It can't just be a random thing they made to use once. There's no way. Bro...

And then there's this one which is the one we use to get to Saint's tomb; it's a gate leading to the future:

VERY interested in the enemies that come out of there. Obviously Descendants aka future Vex, but that also includes WYVERNS. Which are the first Descendant Wyverns we've ever seen:

And there's this one which I couldn't originally place; it looks too similar to a lot of other stuff, including Nessus itself, but I thought it might be Black Garden or Venus. Turns out? Black Garden. When you fight in the center later, Sol Divisive Vex come out of that gate.

The Europa and Black Garden gates fully open when you start the fight and they let the Vex out; as I said, normal ones from Europa and Sol Divisive from the Garden. Then when they're cleared, the future gate opens too and there come Descendants. The other two gates remain open but you can't access them; there's a firewall. Let me in.

In the future gate, there's the worn down corridor and then directly after it is the tomb.

And then the tomb.

I highly recommend doing this yourself or checking out a playthrough for all the lines because I can't feasibly summarise it all. Osiris and Saint show up and Saint interacts with the body, then experiences its memories and finally realises that every Saint is equally the same Saint. He also gets the information on how to find the Conductor. But before that we're treated to emotional damage about Saint and Osiris. Primarily Osiris' incredible worry and also trauma which more or less sends him crying which is fine and okay (lie). Like it's not actually sobbing on screen, but it's very much implied in how he moves and the way lines are delivered.

Okay I guess! How about we all jump into lava! Just to make it clear, Saint's last thoughts before he died were of Osiris. And in Immolant, when Osiris thought he would die, his last thoughts were of Saint.

But there is one where Osiris finds happiness. He finds a time away from strife. He finds Saint—a dream of warm serenity. The peace to his purpose. With Saint, there is a future that could have been enough.

So we're all jumping into lava, right?

Outside we fight Agioktis, except this time it's "Archived Mind" aka the archive of the Martyr Mind, the Vex that killed Saint originally.

Then we move on into the planetary core which reveals... certainly a sight. Of something that looks like an alien civilisation, with like a garden and also a HUGE pyramid inside of a artificially made Vex crater. And that's inside of Nessus. And now we know what they meant in the showcase when they said we'll be exploring an ancient civilisation.

I am unhinged. We don't even get to see more because the cutscene starts when you move forward and then we get the beautiful cliffhanger that will make me the most normal Destiny fan for the next 3 weeks.

Maya explains that she's here because we all suck apparently and she wants to fix the world by using Vex radiolaria to essentially convert everyone and everything into a "better" form. She's having a normal one.

Radio message is more or less a recap on all Veil Logs for people who didn't listen to them and the lore page, which randomly now isn't on Ishtar yet even though all others were available right away is about... well. Maya and Chioma living together in the Vex network peacefully and lovingly until the page break and we see the Conductor experimenting by doing open surgery on Exo Chioma. Very normal. very fine. But I guess now we know what that Exo thing from the trailers was.

Now we have to wait 3 weeks.

[tossawary]

For several different reasons, I'm not personally a big fan of "Soulmate AUs" (universes where there is some way to determine your destined romantic partner, often by some kind of magical birthmark), though I will admit that I have read and enjoyed some of these stories before. There are lots of fun and interesting ways to explore and subvert these tropes.

But past the coercive amatonormatism of it all (which I have seen many people consciously explore in neat ways), one of the things that sometimes bugs me is the worldbuilding or lack thereof. Often, the author of a Soulmate AU is not interested in expansive worldbuilding for a short fic and that's fine and fair. They're explicitly not here to explore what known soulmates throughout history would do to culture, both in terms of social norms and actual laws of government, in a 2k meet cute fic about people finding love.

The world being largely unchanged in a Soulmate AU sometimes makes me wonder if soulmate marks or whatever ARE relatively recent in these worlds, especially when so many of these worlds have magic. How did this HAPPEN? Some of these soulmate setups are so specific and artificial in their design (timers, written words, etc.) that I can't fully suspend my disbelief that it's at all natural. I replace this system's origins in my head with the "a wizard did it" excuse. Then it would make more sense for this world to be more or less identical, just with soulmates slapped on top by a mischievous or angry god.

I have seen many people go with various kinds of "it's a blessing from the gods" explanations and I think that's fun and fine worldbuilding. (And for most people's stories, there just isn't really a need to actually explain this magic system.) I'm currently interested in the idea that someone, not necessarily a divine being, intentionally or even accidentally cast a soulmate spell RECENTLY. Some people are thrilled and other people HATE this.

"Yeah, we've only had 'soulmates' around for about 200 years, since that big mysterious spell, and it's been a big fucking mess ever since." That's a funny mild subversion of the trope in my opinion. And also, I mean, personally speaking, I think that "let's go on a quest to argue with the god wizard who says you're not my soulmate (and maybe kill him and end his stupid spell)" is potentially an incredibly romantic storyline.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

You're So Timeless | Vol. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year. 

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. Part 2 linked HERE and also at the end of the post.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female 

The End

Time.

It was a fickle thing. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed. A mere twelve months earlier, you had been living a different life. The only life you had been responsible for was your own. And your plants, but…they never seemed to last that long under your care. Now, everything was different.

It was the day before your birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday, which, in the world you lived in, meant that tomorrow, a name would appear on your wrist, the name of your soulmate. It had been stressing you out all day, the weight of tomorrow and everything it meant.

It was late, and you were exhausted from a day of overthinking. The longer you stayed up, the longer you delayed the inevitable reveal, and thinking about it too much made you nervous, so you just decided to get to sleep sooner than later.

It was once you were just about to climb into bed that there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open!” You called. The door opened slowly, revealing Steve, who was leaning in your doorway, arms crossed, that pensive look in his blue eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” He chuckled. He seemed nervous, although you weren’t sure why.

“Everything alright, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came in here to check on you. Wanda said you were…quiet.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You hugged your arms around your frame and bit your lip, looking up at the super soldier standing in front of you. “Just…I don’t know. I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for my entire life, but…now that it’s here, I’m so scared.”

“Hey, come here.” He said, pulling you to him, strong arms wrapped around you, as if he could protect you from the future itself.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“(Y/N), whoever they are, they are incredibly, incredibly lucky. You don’t need to worry about anything. It’ll all work out. It always does.” He said it like he was certain. Like somehow he knew what would happen in the morning when suddenly your life was turned on its head and you had to venture out to find your other half.

Since you’d met him, Steve wore a leather band around his wrist, covering his soulmate’s name. You’d figured he must have met them in the forties and…maybe they hadn’t made it long enough to see him come out of the ice. But you didn’t ask about it. You never dared to put that question into words. He’d been through enough heartbreak already.

“What if they don’t like me…?”

He scoffed, holding you tighter. “That’s impossible. They’re going to love you. So much. I promise.”

“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”

Steve pulled away, looking down at you, a hand very carefully touching your cheek. “Of course we will still be friends. Nothing is ever going to change that. I promise.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Good. Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

He gently wiped the tear away, the pad of his thumb warm. Once he was sure you were okay, he let go, looking at you with that knowing sparkle in his eye once more. He took a little extra time to look at the shirt you were wearing, the Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.

“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”

We’ll Meet Again

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Ma’am?” The voice sounded far away. You were pretty sure you were still dreaming. You opened your eyes slowly and immediately became aware of the pounding pain in your head.

“Ow, oh my God.” You reached up and felt there, but it didn’t feel like you were bleeding or anything.

“Ma’am?”

You froze for a second, slowly looking up at the figure standing above you, confusion written all over his familiar features. It took you a long moment to put the pieces together. You were on a porch somewhere in what appeared to be New York, but it was…different. A lot different than the parts of the city you knew. Alright, it had to be a dream.

You looked up at the man standing above you and did a double-take. But no, it was him. It was a tiny, frail version of Steve. Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat up slowly, staring at him for a long moment before whispering, “Steve?”

His mouth opened and then shut again and he made a face of confusion, like he was trying to place where he knew you from, but he didn’t know you yet, and wouldn’t know you for several more years, to say the least. “Do I know you?”

“It’s complicated.” You exhaled. “Can we go inside? You’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dumbfounded, Steve nodded and you stood up from the porch, only to find that he was at your eye level when you did. Weird. He led you into the small apartment and you looked around. It was quaint. There was an easel in the corner of the room and…Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch? You stared at him for a good, long moment, a shiver running down your spine.

“Who’s the dame?” He read your shirt. “What is Star…Wars…?”

“About to find that out myself.” He chuckled, leading you into the living room. “Buck, could you give us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Bucky got up and walked to the other half of their tiny two-bedroom.

You sat down on the couch and so did he. The silence was thick. You thought for several moments. You weren’t quite sure how you had ended up in the 1940s. You looked down at your hands and it was then that your gaze finally landed on the writing on your wrist. And then everything made sense.

“What’s the date today?”

“It’s July 4th, why?”

“July 4th…” You whispered. “What, 1943?”

You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes before he replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, happy birthday, first of all. And second of all…” You held up your wrist so he could read it. Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at the three words written neatly on your skin in his own handwriting.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“You’re my…” He looked at you for a long time, his eyes wide. He hastily undid the cuff around his wrist and held it out to you, your own name written there. He ran a finger across the letters, as if to prove they were really there.

“I’m your soulmate.” You said certainly.

It hit you like a truck, then. The weird look on your Steve’s face, the way he was so certain that everything would work out. It was because he had already lived through this. And that meant that in all the time he’d known you, he’d been hiding his mark not because his soulmate had died, but instead because you were his soulmate and you didn’t know it yet.

Your entire year of friendship, of memories, of roadtrips and missions and movie marathons…he had known the whole time. And that look in his eyes wasn’t just his protective side coming out. It was love. It had been love the whole time.

Oh.

Steve exhaled a long, shaking breath, really taking you in. Once again, he had a million stars in his eyes. He let out a whispered, “Wow,” as tears began to form.

You came back down to earth. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, sniffling as a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ve just, I’ve got a lot of…health problems, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever…meet you. And you’re here and you’re great and I just…I’m sorry.”

That brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, Steve…” You pulled him into your arms and he didn’t hesitate to surrender to your embrace, his arms wrapping tight around you and holding you close, head nestled into the crook of your neck. “Just breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Always.

He took your advice, doing his best to avoid an asthma attack on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life. Once he finally caught his breath, he pulled away to look at your face again. “I have to ask…How did you know?”

“I don’t know if you can tell from these clothes,” you motioned down to the t-shirt and sweatpants you were wearing, “but I’m not from around here, exactly.”

“I kind of thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude.” He smiled softly. “Um, where are you from, then?”

“I’m from the future. Like…a while from now. It’s hard to explain why or how, and I’m not really sure how I got here, to be honest, but I’m glad I am.” You sighed, thumb grazing his cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned at your touch. “I don’t know how long we have before I have to go back.”

“Am I there? Where you’re from?”

“You are. It’s complicated. We’re really good friends and…when I get back, I’m sure we’ll probably be even more than that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, trying out your name for the first time.

“Yeah?”

“Let me take you out today, show you a good time here before you have to go back.” He took your hand and carefully laced his fingers through your own, testing the weight of it, the feel of it.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Not to eavesdrop, lovebirds — congratulations, by the way — but if you’re going to take her out, we’re going to need to find her some clothes that aren’t so…‘not from around here.’” Bucky leaned in the doorway.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call one of my girls and we’ll get her squared away. Sit tight.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, chuckling when his eyes widened after you addressed him by name. “I know you, too. From the, uh, future.”

“Weird…” Bucky decided.

“Long story?” Steve asked, studying the look on your face.

“Very.” You agreed. After staring at him for another long moment, you pulled him back into your arms again, exhaling a long breath before whispering, “Steve, I’m so glad it’s you…”

***

“Wow.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, studying the way Bucky’s, ahem, lady friend, had curled your hair, done your makeup. You did a little twirl and relished in the way the skirt of your dress twirled. It was navy blue, short ruffled sleeves with a flared skirt and buttons down the front. “I think it suits me.”

“I agree. Blue is a good color on you.” Steve was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room, absolutely enamored as he watched you. “Although, I’m sure they’re all good colors on you, doll.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He stood up and walked to you, slipping one of his hands into each of yours and staring into your eyes, looking at the way you looked standing next to him in his reflection. His soulmate. The kind of girl people write poems about. “You look great.”

“I don’t look out of place?”

“No one is gonna think you’re a time traveler. Well, unless you tell them.” Bucky said. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” You chuckled and gave Steve’s hands a squeeze. “Where to first, soulmate?”

His cheeks reddened as soon as you said the word. “Well, I was thinking we could go to my favorite little diner down the street to grab something for lunch, and then maybe we could take a walk through the park, catch a movie, and then go out for drinks tonight?”

“What, you aren’t gonna take her dancing?” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair under a large hand. “Show the girl a good time?”

“I would if I didn’t have two left feet.” Steve chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked at you, waiting for some kind of response. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”

He smiled. “Good.”

The two of you left the apartment not long after that, and walked side by side towards the diner. Your hands were swinging in the space between you and your hand brushed Steve’s once, twice, a third time, and then you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

You caught him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You can hold my hand as much as you want, doll.”

When the two of you finally got to the diner, a little bell rang over your heads and you got seated at a booth by the window. The two of you ordered drinks and you skimmed the menu while you waited.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, resting your chin against your fist and looking over at Steve. You studied the way his blue, blue eyes flicked up to your own and the blush that covered his cheeks shortly thereafter.

“You probably know a lot of it already.” He chuckled. “Unless we don’t talk a lot?”

“We talk quite a bit, but I still want to know about this you. Here and now.”

“I like art. Drawing and painting and stuff.” He said. “I haven’t had time to do much lately, but I’d like to get back into it.”

“See, that I didn’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you were into art.”

“I could, uh, show you sometime.” He offered.

“I’d like that.” You smiled. “What else?”

“I like to read. I like going to Dodgers games with Bucky. One time he took me to Coney Island. I don’t like rollercoasters, but I liked playing the games. He wasted three whole dollars trying to win a teddy bear for a redhead named Dot.”

“Three whole dollars…” You chuckled. “Well you don’t have to worry about the rollercoasters too much, I can’t go upside down without throwing up.”

“That makes two of us. Enough about me, tell me about you.” Steve nudged, his hand slowly moving towards yours. “How do we know each other? When did we meet?”

“We’re…coworkers, I guess you could say. We met about a year back and now we live in the same building? I’m sorry for being so vague, I just—”

“Don’t want to give it away, yeah, I get it.” He nodded, understandingly.

“You took me under your wing as soon as I moved in and really made me feel welcome. You’re the one that brought me onto the team, actually.” You took a sip of your drink. “We’ve been through a lot together already, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Mmm…” Steve nodded. “I know I just met you, but I’m really glad you and I are close. Well, will be close.” He paused before chuckling and shaking his head. “There’s still some little voice in the back of my head telling me all of this is just some amazing dream.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” You chuckled, tucking a piece of curled hair back behind your ear. “I’ve…I’ve had a crush on you forever, Steve. I can’t believe this is happening.”

He stared at you, almost dumbfounded. “O-on me?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. You’d forgotten, you supposed, that Steve had had this phase, the self-depreciation, the insecurity. Your Steve, when complimented, was shy, sure, but you knew he understood what people were talking about. This Steve didn’t see it that way. Not yet. But it would be your job to use your one day with him to change that, to make your soulmate see that he was worthy of love, even self-love. “Yeah, of course on you, Steve. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

His cheeks reddened and he finally took the leap, taking your hand across the table, thumb grazing your knuckles with care. His blue eyes sparkled. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

***

Once the two of you were finished up at the diner, you took a walk through the park. It was gorgeous out, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon. Several couples were strolling down the paths, hand in hand, and you were one of them, your hand held tight in Steve’s, his thumb gently stroking the back of yours.

You went to the theater and caught a movie together. Luckily enough, they were showing the Wizard of Oz. Your current situation had you feeling like Dorothy in more ways than one. The movie had only come out four years earlier, which was definitely strange. Not to mention the fact that the tickets were only twenty-five cents, the popcorn a mere ten cents.

And then, once the movie was over and the sun was setting, you went to a bar, where Steve ordered each of you a drink. You took a sip of yours, something sweet, and smiled at him across the table.

“So, how’s your day been, birthday boy?” You asked coyly.

“The best I’ve had so far,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle faded, however, when his expression grew somber. He hesitated, but then asked, “Okay, I have to know…How long do I have to wait to see you again?”

You exhaled a long sigh, biting your lip. If you told him the truth, he might ask questions you couldn’t tell him the answers to. And besides, the real answer would require some math. You didn’t know the specifics.

“I’ll be honest, Steve, it’s…it’s a pretty long time.” You thought for a long moment before continuing, “I…I can’t really tell you why. It’s all really complicated, and if I tell you too much, it might not happen the way it’s supposed to.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded and took a sip of his drink. Once he set down the glass, he reached across the table and took your hand. “Well, however long it is,” he looked straight into your eyes and a chill ran down your spine, “It’ll be worth it. Every second. I promise.”

You could have cried. “I hope so.”

“There you two are! I was wondering which bar you’d wandered into!” Bucky was, apparently, already slightly intoxicated as he approached you and Steve with a date of his own. “How was your day on the town, lovebirds?”

“Spectacular.” You replied. “I wish there was more time to soak it in.”

“New York sure is something, huh?” Bucky’s date asked, giggling innocently. If only she knew the half of it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You guys wanna sit with us?” Steve asked.

“If you don’t mind too much, punk.” Bucky grinned.

Steve got up and switched sides of the booth so he was sitting next to you instead of across from you. You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Did you give the lady her dance, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirking.

“Not yet.” Steve chuckled. “We’ll see. The asthma makes it a bit difficult sometimes.”

“Never seems to stop you from getting into fights.” Bucky muttered, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush.

“Just wait until the band plays something slow,” Bucky’s date pointed out.

“There you go!” Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Great idea, Maggie.”

“Glad to be of service.”

And so, the four of you chatted until the band started to play something sweet and slow. Steve looked at you for approval and you nodded. He led you out onto the floor with the other couples.

Steve blushed, flustered, and he looked at you before saying, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s easy.” You promised, guiding one of his hands to your waist and holding the other. “That’s it. And then we just move to the music. You can twirl me around if you feel so inclined.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, swaying in time with you. “Hey, uh, (Y/N), I need you to know…I had a really, really great time today. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a soulmate and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you someday, however far away that someday is.”

“I’m glad I met your expectations.” You smiled, tugging him a bit closer.

“No, you exceeded them. You’re better than anything I could have imagined. I’m so lucky.” He paused, and his expression fell a little. “I know I’m a lot. I have a lot of problems and they might complicate things sometimes, but…”

“Steve, you’re perfect.” You shook your head and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “The universe gave you to me for a reason and I’m so, so glad it did. You’re amazing. I can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with.”

He was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I please kiss you, doll?”

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, the music swelling around you as you guided his hands to your waist, cupping his cheeks to hold him close to you. When the moment had passed, you rested your nose against his, meeting his eyes and inhaling his scent, committing this version of him to memory before he was reduced to just that, a memory.

“Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.”

You spent the rest of the night together. Twirling across the dancefloor, talking, soaking each other in. But when you reached the front porch of the townhouse, Steve looked back down the steps to find you’d disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your lips, your laugh, your smile.

“You gonna be alright?” Bucky asked, a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He replied, words swallowed up by the sounds of the night. “Just give me a minute, pal.”

Bucky nodded, solemn. “Take all the time you need.”

The Beginning

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize it right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the local mall.

It had been an uneventful day. He strolled around the perimeter, taking in the storefronts, studying the fashion, browsing the menu of a pretzel place, reading the posters on the exterior of the movie theater, the things that were coming out in the coming months. Nothing interested him in particular. He didn’t really care for war movies.

After a few quiet hours, his peaceful walk was interrupted by screams, people running away at top speed, which, of course, caused him to spring into action, assessing the situation. He ran towards the source of the chaos, scanning, scanning, until his eyes landed on the attacker, a guy with a flamethrower, aimed at a teenage theater employee. Steve hurdled over a trash can, moving people out of the way, directing them to safety and trying to put himself between himself and the mallgoers, but before he could, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands and it slid across the floor to Steve’s feet. He chucked it into the fountain without a second thought, where it fizzled pathetically. The guy lunged at you with heavy metal gauntlets, and you dodged the first swing but caught the second in the face, falling backwards. When you landed, however ungracefully, you sent a blast of energy at the guy, knocking him over a plant and sprawling onto the tile floor.

While the guy was on the ground, Steve tackled him, wrenching the gauntlets off of his hands and chucking them away, too. Soon, the police arrived, apprehending the guy while mall security comforted the distressed mall patrons, ushering them to safety and medical attention.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead. Steve walked over, interested in this superpowered rescuer, someone who wasn’t yet on the Avengers’ radar, but would most definitely be on the news the next day if the sheer amount of phone footage recorded was any indication.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

There you are, doll. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it. I’ve been like this since college.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own, in the room the theater used for birthday parties. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked, trying to sound somewhat indifferent. He couldn’t be, though. Not entirely. Not when it came to you.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity, thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“I don’t know about that. My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“Well, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was three days later that Nick Fury got in touch with you. You thought it was a scam call at first, but no one else would possibly have the info about you that he did. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. for you, you supposed.

You packed up your apartment, your boxes of books, your old journals, your clothes and makeup, your life, and hopped in the jet that was waiting for you at the meeting place. Inside was a pilot with flaming red hair, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. It was hard not to get a little starstruck.

She helped you load your things into the jet, let you settle into the copilot seat, and then you took off, soaring away from your old life and towards your new one, the mysterious, magnificent facility tucked into upstate New York, that iconic A emblazoned on the front of the building.

“Steve said you’re telekinetic. That’s cool.” She complimented with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’ve got force-field stuff. I don’t know what else, exactly.”

“Oh, we’ll figure all that out. Banner already has a list of tests he wants to run. Nothing too intense. I made him promise not to give you the lab rat treatment too soon.”

“Reassuring.” You chuckled.

“Wanda’s been decorating your room all day. It’s not often we get new blood.”

“I appreciate it. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“They can’t wait to meet you.”

The jet landed a little under an hour later and Natasha helped you haul boxes towards the front door, where Steve was waiting. It was like time slowed, that look in his eyes, glistening little stars.

“Come on, Rogers, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.” Nat waved him over, snapping both of you out of your trance.

“Right, right.” He jogged over. “Is there anything heavy?”

“That one.” You pointed. “It’s got my candles in it.”

“On it.”

You grabbed a few tote bags, slinging your computer bag over your shoulder. A few others came out to help, Clint and Wanda namely, the latter of whom used her shimmering red powers to speed the process along. Were you any more confident in your own powers, you would do the same, but you hadn’t had much opportunity to use them yet, and you didn’t want to drop anything fragile on your first day.

You started unpacking the essentials, your smart speaker, your laptop, some books and your favorite candle. You put some clothes in the dresser, hung some up in the large sliding closet in the wall. Upon further examination, you had your own bathroom, too, which was nice. There was a wall tapestry with sunflowers on it, and several little knickknacks. Wanda’s loving touch.

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to find Steve there, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.

“Hi there, um, just checking in. Figured you might want a tour when you got settled in. No rush, of course.”

“I would love a tour. I can already tell I’m gonna get lost in this place.”

He grinned. “Not on my watch. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Steve walked with you through the office spaces, the computer labs, Bruce’s lab, Tony’s. Tony was in the city, but Bruce was home and introduced himself with a dad joke about the Hulk and a warm handshake. You saw the training facility, a giant room with floor to ceiling windows, a wall of mirrors, practice dummies, landing mats, and plenty of sparring weapons. There was, separately, a fully furnished gym, and then the basics, a large, modern kitchen, living areas and lounges, study spaces, a library, a party room with a bar, and a very fancy coffee machine.

You could see yourself making a home here.

Steve walked you back to the hallway where all the bedrooms were. “If you need anything or have any questions, my room is just down the hall on the left. Wanda is next door. Dinner is at six.”

“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”

“You can call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You nodded, slowly accepting the fact that you were now on a first name basis with Captain America. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He said, some twinge of nostalgia at the end of his words. You turned back into your room to get some more unpacking done and Steve walked back down the hall, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, doing his best to hold in his tears.

…Ready For It?

You spent the first few days in your room for the most part, unpacking but also hiding, if you were honest. You met Vision. He seemed nice. He also had the ability to phase through walls, apparently. Still no sign of Thor, but you weren’t holding your breath. You were sure he was a busy guy.

Sam Wilson introduced himself with the same offer everyone else had so far, to let them know if you needed anything. You appreciated it.

And then, finally, there was Tony, whose dry humor came across immediately. He sized you up, drilling questions about where you went to college, what you majored in, what your top three movies from the 1980s were. You were pretty sure he liked you, but you didn’t think he trusted you. And that was okay. You knew that was something you’d have to earn around there.

“No soulmark yet, kid?” He asked, eyeing up your bare wrist.

“Not yet.” You confirmed.

“That makes you what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four. As of last month, actually.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well that’s exciting. I’m sure you’re counting down the days.”

“More or less.” You chuckled, catching Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye. He did that a lot, you noticed.

Before Tony could come up with some witty comeback, the lights flashed red, accompanied by a loud siren.

“Vis? What’s going on?” Tony asked as Vision walked into the room, his sophisticated sweater melting into the uniform you’d seen on the news, red and green with a golden cape.

“There seems to be a stir at the local fairgrounds. Tremors and gunshots. Hostages.”

“Alright, let’s go pay them a visit then.” Tony pressed a button on his watch and transformed into Iron Man in front of your very eyes. “You can stay here or come with us. Up to you. But suit up fast. We’re out in five.”

You stood there for a moment, waiting for the shock to wear off, but the sirens definitely weren’t helping.

“Stick with me.” Steve instructed, voice calm, confident.

“Okay.” You nodded, following after him, towards the hangar where they kept the jets.

Natasha was standing at a locker, pulling her catsuit on with impressive speed, Clint beside her, loading a quiver with arrows, checking his bow.

“Nat, can you get her ready?”

“Baby’s first mission?” She asked, impressed.

You nodded, waiting for orders.

“Well, it should be an easy one, from the sound of it. Here, put this on. We’ll get you your own gear in the next few weeks.”

She chucked you an extra suit and you did your best to shimmy into it. Surprisingly, you could actually move in it. There were holsters, but you weren’t gun trained, so you figured it was best to leave that to the professionals. Instead, you followed the others onto the jet, hoping your forcefields and blossoming battle instincts would be enough to protect you out there.

***

The fair had devolved quickly into madness. There was fire, screaming, running, and gunshots. You flinched at the onslaught of it, but followed the others out anyway, listening to the voice in your earpiece, Steve’s voice, as he issued orders. You were put on civilian evacuation with Sam while the others engaged with the attackers. Six of them.

You did your job diligently, ushering people to a safe distance while law enforcement arrived. Until one of the attackers engaged with you, however, mistaking you for a civilian. Something snapped. In an instant your flight instinct vanished, replaced with the need to fight. He punched at you and you countered, sweeping a leg under him and then using a forcefield to knock him into the cornfield.

One of them launched a bazooka at Tony while he wasn’t looking, and without a thought, you trapped the explosive in a bubble, forcing it into the air where it exploded harmlessly, away from everyone.

And when the dust settled, the rest of the team turned to look at you, sharing looks with each other.

“Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one.” Tony complimented, clapping you on the back on his way into the jet. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Your heart raced with the adrenaline of battle, the feeling of a job well done. Steve gave you a thumbs-up, a proud grin. His risk had paid off. You weren’t a total failure.

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, slinging his shield onto his back.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, letting the energy fizzle back into your palms.

He watched with interest at the faint crackles of blue that made up your powers. “You did good out there.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks, I—"

“Alright new girl, were are we stopping for food?” Natasha asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“I get to pick?” You asked with a laugh.

“And don’t be afraid to pick something fancy. It’s Tony’s treat.” Clint added, walking with the rest of you onto the jet. You strapped in while the others tried their darndest to influence your pick, bickering like siblings. Like your family.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Waypoint

Your training started shortly after that first mission. Bruce took all your vitals, measured them before, during, and after use of your powers. He recorded said powers with every device known to man until he had your ability down to a science. He had a hunch they were of cosmic origin, but you had no idea when you could have possible come in contact with something like that.

Next came a uniform. At the moment, it was a dark indigo color, something similar to navy blue, but leaning a bit more purple. The chest area was left blank, Tony claiming he’d add a symbol once his graphic design team came up with something. He did add some accents up the arms and down the legs, thin, light blue lines that matched the color of your powers.

Natasha and Clint gave you a few crash courses on weapons and your aim left a bit to be desired, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t bad. Sam put you on a modified military workout regimen to get in shape, get your stamina up with the rest of the team.

You practiced making forcefields, seeing how big you could make them, how small, how much force they could endure before they broke. Natasha shot some bullets at them, and your fields caught them, allowing you to kill their momentum and drop them harmlessly to the ground. They could withstand some electricity, but not Wanda’s powers. And they held against Steve’s superstrength, but not for long. Still, a few hits from a supersoldier was more than most could endure, so it would buy you some time in the field.

Eventually, you moved on from just forcefields and started learning to move objects. It turned out, you were not limited to bubbles. You could create platforms underneath things. This evolved into creating platforms underneath people, that they could jump on, or ride on top of while you moved them.

You practiced using them for transport too, but it was harder standing on them while controlling them, especially if you tried to jump from platform to platform. It was a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, and it would take a lot of practice.

There weren’t many missions, and the ones that popped up, you didn’t get sent on. They were high level things, and while your powers were improving, and very quickly, Bruce was always quick to reassure you, you weren’t ready for covert ops yet, especially ones that had been months in the making.

Every time Steve got sent off, he left with that sad little half-smile of his, the one where he pressed his lips together, eyes glittering like a lake under moonlight. He’d give you some words of comfort, usually dealing with how short the mission was supposed to be. It didn’t often make you feel better.

Bruce stayed behind with you, most times. More like all of the times. Code Greens, as they were called, were seldom necessary, and besides, as they had learned with Wanda back during the Ultron days, Bruce could be a liability if someone else got in his head. But it was nice not being completely alone in the big empty facility.

“He always looks so sad when he leaves.” You noted, sipping from a mug of warm tea. Steve had left only moments before, the last member of the team that was shipping out.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. “Does he?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him that well.” You shrugged, the sounds of Animal Crossing resonating from the TV.

“You know, he has, lately. He didn’t used to.” Bruce noted.

“Weird.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied absentmindedly. “So explain to me this game?”

“Okay, so you move to this island and have to spend all your money paying off debt to this raccoon…”

It was in another training session that there was a malfunction. A shock grenade went off dangerously close to Sam. Before you could even process what you were doing, your hand shot out, a bright, pulsating star crackling in front of him, another, second star on the other side of the room. Steve assessed the situation and used the shield to knock Sam into the star, neutralizing the grenade right after. There was a bright flash and Sam appeared on the other side of the room, tumbling out of the second star.

You froze, curling your fingers and closing both of them. There was a slight pinch in your shoulder, near the base of your neck. The others all stared.

“Wait, what was that?” Bruce asked over the intercom.

“You did that?” Steve asked, motioning to Sam as he walked over.

“I think so.”

“What was that?”

Natasha asked, looking you up and down. Sam stared at you like you’d sprouted a third eye.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it again.” Bruce insisted. “Hang on, I’m coming in there.”

The door from the observation room opened and Bruce joined the rest of you in the circle that was steadily forming, all of them watching you, waiting.

“I don’t know, it was just like…” You focused on that feeling again, the desperation to get Sam the hell away from that grenade, and as though you were punching a hole through reality, it opened in the center of the circle, an eight-pointed star, bobbing and ebbing and flowing, made of the light blue energy you were so familiar with.

Carefully, you opened another one, ten feet in the air above the first. Clint shrugged and chucked a tennis ball into it. Sure enough, it popped up to the second one, before falling down through the first one again. This continued until eventually you closed the bottom one, letting the tennis ball bounce harmlessly across the floor.

“Well shit.”

“Waypoints.” Bruce said, deep in thought. “Teleportation. This…this opens up a lot of doors.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.

“Hey, that’s kind of cool. Waypoint.” Clint said, drawing attention to it. “What do you think?”

“What, like as a codename?” You asked, weighing it as an option.

“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”

“Waypoint.” You repeated, trying it out. Hi, I’m Waypoint. I’m an Avenger.

It sounded silly, but it was getting more official by the day. There was, of course, only one way to make it official official, and that was with one of Tony Stark’s famed parties…

Wonderstruck

You let out a sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was the night of the big party. Your first, as an Avenger, and the official induction of what Tony was deeming the second class of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Sam: the Falcon, Wanda: the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and You: Waypoint.

He’d gotten you a dress to wear, one that matched your uniform. It was long, sleek, that navy blue/indigo color. It glittered like stars and moved like a dream. And in the middle of it, poised at the base of the sweetheart neckline, was the eight-pointed star that Tony had turned into your symbol.

Your hair and makeup were done, and all that was left was the zipper.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called, expecting Natasha or Wanda. Instead, it was Steve, who, when he saw you were unzipped, pulled the door almost all the way closed and shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry! I’ll leave—”

“Wait, actually, could you help me zip this up? I can’t reach.”

Steve nodded, slowly lowering his hand and entering the room. He closed the door behind him to give you some privacy. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a blue tie. His lapel pin looked like a tiny version of his shield.

“Wow…” He murmured, taking you in. “You look great, (Y/N).”

“You think so? I’m not sure blue is really my color…”

He scoffed. “It most certainly is.” He swept the hair off of your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the reflection in the mirror as he gently pulled the zipper higher until it was secure in place. “In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, guess so.” You agreed, nervous energy crackling around your fingers, blue as ever. You dispelled it, snapping out of it.

Steve looked at the two of you in the mirror for a long time before turning towards the door again. Halfway there, though, he turned back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flat velvet box. “This is, um…for you.”

“Oh! Thank you.” You reached for it, heart racing. Inside was a necklace, its pendant a silver star with eight points. In the center, an aquamarine gem. You gasped, looking at it. It was beautiful, delicate. “Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He said, offering his hand. “May I?”

“Please.” You said, handing him the necklace and moving your hair out of the way. He did the clasp behind your neck. It settled between your collarbones.

“There. Now it’s official.” He whispered.

“Almost.”

“Almost.” Steve agreed, offering you his elbow. “Right this way.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you out into the initial murmurs of the party. What Natasha dubbed the “extended family” had shown up. Rhodey, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, and, of course, Thor.

He was a sight, that was for sure. He towered over everyone else at 6’5”, arms the size of tree trunks. It was a bit intimidating to say the very least.

“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.

“Thor! I didn’t think you were coming.”

He grinned. “I never miss a feast.” His eyes fell on you. “And you must be this new team member Banner spoke of.”

“I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The honor is mine.”

“Here.” Natasha handed you a champagne flute. She eyed up your necklace. “That’s cute.”

“Steve gave it to me.”

She quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the supersoldier, who still had your arm. “Steve has good taste.”

“Steve had help.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“I’d get you one too, Rogers, but Thor has the strong stuff.” Natasha said, patting his other arm while you took a sip of the champagne. It was sweet, tangy. “God’s favorite boy scout has trouble getting drunk.”

“My tolerance is too good.”

“I think we just need to get you a Four Loko. Or two.”

“A what?” Steve asked.

“It’s like four drinks in one can. They’re insane. I tried in college, but tapped out halfway through.”

He considered it for a moment, letting out a laugh. “See, that just might work.”

Tony wandered around the lounge, greeting everyone. He looked you up and down. “You look beautiful, Portal Girl.”

You internally chuckled. The others had advised you not to feed his ego when he used his nicknames. “Thank you, Tony.”

“And you’re also here, Rogers.”

“Tony.” Steve nodded.

“You her date tonight?” He asked, motioning to your joint arms.

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Steve agreed, not budging. Neither were you.

“Well, I hope you’ve taken some dance lessons since last time, Rogers. I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t want to have her feet walked all over.”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes as Tony moved onto his next targets. Sam emerged, looking very sharp in a red suit. Even Vision had dressed up for the occasion, Wanda beside him wearing an elegant red dress. The two of them talked and laughed on the other side of the room and you smiled. You could tell when you moved in that he cared about her.

You wondered if robots could have soulmates, too. If any android had a soul, surely it was Vision. Maybe you’d ask him about it sometime.

Once all of the expected guests were accounted for, Tony did the briefest ceremony in the history of ceremonies, introducing you all to the few members of the press he had allowed to come. You spent the beginning of the evening shaking hands, networking, and then once the strangers left, the real party started.

Nat switched you to something a lot stronger to champagne, and she was running the bar, so it was easy to get refills. Clint and Thor were arm wrestling on one of the tables which was…hilarious, admittedly.

Steve found you after a few hours apart. “Hey, will you be my partner?”

“Sure, for what?”

He laughed, loosening up quite a bit with Thor’s Asgardian mead in his system. “Sam and Bruce are trying to teach me how to play Beer Ball or something.”

“Beer Pong?”

“That one, yeah.” He nodded. “Winners play Clint and Nat.”

“That checks out.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m game. I haven’t played since college, though.”

“I haven’t played ever so I’m sure you’re a step ahead of me anyway.”

“We’ll see about that. Your physics skills are pretty good, what with the shield and all.” You complimented, earning that charming smile of his. “We might just give them a run for their money.”

“Enough flirting, kids, get over here.” Bruce grinned as he finished lining up the cups.

“You know how to play Beer Pong?” You asked, plucking a ping pong ball off of the table and fiddling with it.

“Kid, I have seven PhDs. I have played my share of Beer Pong.” Bruce admitted.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to see the Avengers loosen up like this, have a good time together, really truly bond.

You gave Steve the basic rundown of the rules: no elbows past the edge of the table, balls back, stoplight, island, and that if you let Sam and Bruce get too many cups, you and Steve would get “schwaisted” as the kids said, or, at the very least, you would. Steve would probably be fine.

“Ladies first.” Sam said, giving you the second ping pong ball, one of which, you handed to Steve.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You said, rubbing the ball between your hands before perfectly bouncing it into the cup at the front of the pyramid. “Your turn, Steve.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, sinking the ball into the same cup. “I believe that’s three cups, gentlemen.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. He shared a look with Bruce. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You’re telling me.” Bruce chuckled, retrieving the ping pong ball and rolling it back. He started drinking the contents of the first cup, leaving the other two to Sam. “Alright, do your worst.”

Needless to say, you wiped the floor with the other two. Barely even gave them a chance. Which is why it was only fair that Clint and Natasha kicked the absolute shit out of the two of you.

You struggled to down your third cup, which is why when you reached for the fourth, Steve shook his head and took it from you, only offering a wink when you opened your mouth to protest.

“Hey! Steve, it’s supposed to be five each.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she already finished hers.” Steve shrugged, chugging another like it was water. “Right, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah absolutely. What he said.” You shrugged.

You helped clean up the mess a bit after the game was over, rounding up empty cups, wiping down the table, and then washing your hands as Tony switched the music to something upbeat, dancing music.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Steve urged, clearly toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He reached out for your hand and you couldn’t resist. You didn’t even try.

You let him lead you out to the middle of the room, where Wanda and Vision were already dancing together and looking adorable doing it.

“I thought you couldn’t dance.” You laughed as he spun you around to the music.

“I’m a quick learner.” He whispered, mouth against your ear.

You swore your entire body flushed red, but you let your feet lead you through the dance. Steve took both of your hands, swinging you out and then back in, spinning you around. You blamed the alcohol on what happened next. Your heel caught on the fabric of your dress and you fell over the back of one of the couches, tugging Steve down with you.

He laughed, using an arm to push himself off of you, hovering, eyes soft. “Sorry.”

“It’s my fault. You’ve got me falling for you, Rogers.” You murmured, gazing up at him through your eyelashes.

You said it as a joke, a quip, but there was some truth in it. More than some. It had been a magical, magical night. And if it weren’t for the leather cuff on his wrist, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him.

Steve closed his eyes, smiling and sitting up, helping you upright again. “I’ll go get us some water.”

You sighed and sat back against the couch, heart hammering in your chest.

Natasha perched on the armrest, looking down at you. “What was that?”

“Not sure. I think I fumbled the bag. If…if there even was a bag I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging.

“No, there is something there. I can see it.” Natasha said, thinking as she nursed a glass of wine. “Hmmm…”

Steve stood in the kitchen, getting two glasses of filtered water from the fridge. He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning against it. He replayed the moment in his head over and over. The look in your eyes, the way your necklace glimmered in the light, the sound of your voice, the flush of your cheeks. You were catching feelings for him, that much was clear. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.

Maybe it was a good thing, he reasoned, thinking back on his first night with you all those years ago. But you still couldn’t know why. Not yet.

It was going to kill him to keep it a secret for ten more months.

Timeless

Sherbert rays of the sunrise lit the training room, filling it with a warm orange glow. You were sitting on the floor, stretching your legs while you listened to music. That was another thing on the growing list of skills that had improved during your stint as an Avenger: your flexibility.

Suddenly, Steve was standing over you, saying something you couldn’t hear due to the noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You slid one off, looking up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, reaching for your other leg.

“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I drank too much caffeine before bed last night. Learned my lesson. No caffeine after six.”

“That’s a good rule. Mind if I stretch with you?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” You tossed your headphones onto your workout bag and connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers, putting on some music you could both listen to.

“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”

“Taylor Swift.”

“Ah. Yes, her. I keep hearing about her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. “Have you liked any of her songs so far?”

“I don’t know if I could name one for you, to be honest.” He listened to the song that was playing. “This one’s not bad, though.”

“I’ll send you some recommendations. There are some I think you’d really vibe with.”

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”

The others came in not long after, did their warm-ups, and then Steve briefed everyone on the plan for their training session, one in which everyone would swap weapons, practice using each other’s things in case they ever had to in battle if one of their teammates got disarmed.

You started with Clint. He showed you the absolute basics of archery, how to pull back the bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim, taking into account distance. You fired a few arrows into a target and did okay, you supposed, but you would need some practice if you wanted to actually get good at it. Years of it, realistically.

Natasha showed you how to use her electric batons, which were fun, but did intimidate you a little. You definitely did not want to end up on the wrong end of those things.

And then, inevitably, you were standing in front of Steve. He offered you his shield, which on its own seemed daunting. You held it for a second, assessing the weight of it. It was noticeably lighter than you thought it would be.

“Woah.”

“Yeah. People always expect it to be heavier.” He said, a hand resting on his hip as he watched you hold it. It looked so right in your hands, he decided. “It’s good for a lot of things, but first…” Carefully, he helped you put your arm through the straps on the back of it, holding it in front of your body in its primary and most famous purpose.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “This is so crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, you have no idea.” You chuckled, waving it around a bit.

“You keep looking at it like it’s Thor’s hammer or something.” He teased.

“Feels like it.”

“Well the good news is, this thing is not password protected by some Asgardian magic words. The bad news is, that means the bad guys can pick it up, too.” Steve said, gently positioning your body in an offensive stance, nudging a foot with his own, switching your arms around. “You can use it to bash somebody head on, or you can angle it a bit to get a more direct blow. It will take the force of most things. I…I actually kind of don’t know the limits. Hasn’t failed me yet. The paint does come off from time to time, though, so don’t worry about that.”

“Okay, wow.” You nodded. “Good to know.”

“I trust you with it.” He said, eyes meeting yours.

You smiled, heart racing. “I’m honored.”

He showed you a few other tricks, and then training wrapped up for the day, everyone grabbing some water, taking a shower, or making plans for lunch. Once you walked off with Wanda, Nat cornered Steve.

“What was that?” She asked, that catlike grin on her face.

“What was what?”

“I saw it, you know, the way you looked at her. I think you’ve got a soft spot.”

“Yeah, well, I did rope her into all this. Can’t say I don’t feel responsible for her.” He dodged expertly, weaving through Natasha’s mental gymnastics with skill and precision, or so he thought.

“Uh-huh sure. Well, she, Wanda, and I are going antiquing this afternoon. You should come. After all, you know quite a bit about vintage valuables.”

He laughed. “Hey!”

She walked off, smiling to herself. Steve thought about it for all of four seconds before he decided he would tag along. He hadn’t been to an antique shop in this century, so he couldn’t imagine the kinds of things they had there now. He might even learn a thing or two.

***

After a quick lunch, Steve did decide to tag along. It wound up being him, Vision, and the girls, which he certainly didn’t mind.

You and Wanda were buzzing with excitement, Natasha looking on and following behind with Steve. Vision lingered, studying everything, picking things up to get a closer look. He had projected a human disguise over himself, something Steve didn’t know he could even do, but it seemed to work. No one had batted an eye at him since they stepped foot in the shop.

“This place is…huge.” Steve said, glancing down the hall of the seemingly endless store.

“Biggest one in the state.” You chimed. “It’s the whole city block.”

“There’s a basement, too. And a second floor.” Natasha informed him, patting his arm. “This is gonna be an all day kinda thing.”

“Oh undoubtedly.” He said, setting down the teacup in his hands, a petite, floral thing.

You sifted through a box of records, picking up the soundtrack of the Muppets Movie.

“Is that a frog?”

“This is Kermit thee Frog, show some respect.” You laughed, putting the record in your basket.

“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.

“Oh I forgot you missed the Muppets, oh my god.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

“We need to fix that as soon as possible.” You told him. “Can’t have you missing out on cultural icons like Gonzo and Miss Piggy.”

“Okay now you’re making things up.” He chuckled, shuffling through the records as well. You showed him a few good ones and he added them to his basket, saying something about how he’s been meaning to use his new record player.

Wanda browsed some vintage rings, picking out a few, and Natasha rifled through a rack of vintage dresses, most of them from the forties and fifties from the look of it. Nat held up a navy blue one, silky, with short ruffled sleeves and buttons down the front. Steve froze, looking at it. For a moment, it looked just a little too familiar. Like the dress you had worn that night.

Eventually Nat put the dress back. You hadn’t seen it. You were distracted by a shelf of VHS tapes, looking for the old Barbie movies, whatever those were. Wanda was with you, on the next shelf over, calling out movie names when she found something cool.

Steve wandered off on his own, looking around at the different trinkets and toys, old letterman jackets and jewelry, dishes that may or may not contain lead. Finally, he came upon a little room full of art, paintings and photographs, handmade pottery.

Time stood still.

He stared at the large painting on the wall, oil on canvas. Two star-crossed lovers dancing in a bar in Brooklyn, a little guy with a dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, twirling in her dark blue dress. His heart raced. He never thought he’d see this painting again.

It had been his last painting before leaving for Camp Lehigh, the last painting he did before his life and body changed forever. He’d used the last of his paints to make it, every color mixed with care to get the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your lips, all from memory.

And it was here in front of him. When he had been presumed dead, it must have been sold off. He didn’t really have anyone left it could go to.

In that moment, he wasn’t Captain America. Standing in his shoes was that little guy from Brooklyn.

“Woah.” You murmured, suddenly right next to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it…it is.” He agreed, looking away from it. He didn’t want you to get too close of a look at it. However, that didn’t stop you from walking forward to inspect it closer.

“‘Soulmates.’ Artist unknown.” You read from the plaque. “Oh, it’s from the 40s. 1943. Does it look familiar?”

“Yeah, actually. Bucky liked that bar.” Steve said, pointing to the details of the interior. “It’s a little place in Brooklyn, called Val’s. Well, it was I guess. I don’t know if it’s still open anymore.”

Your eyes lingered on the woman’s face, on the man’s. You didn’t say anything about how they looked, about the uncanny resemblance to yourself and Steve. Instead, you sighed. “Someday, I want to be that in love with someone.”

He just about cried. But instead, he gathered his words, put a hand on your shoulder, and told you with confidence, “You will be.”

***

Hours later, when you were all shopped out and you’d checked out with your things, Steve stayed at the counter while the rest of you went to the car.

“Hey, um, that painting in the art room. The soulmates in the bar. I’m interested in buying it. Would it be possible to have it held here for a while, though?”

“Oh I’m sure we could arrange something,” said the old man at the counter with a smile and a nod. He started writing out the purchase form.

Steve glanced back towards where it was, that fragment of his soul he didn’t think he’d ever see again. He knew the fact that he’d stumbled upon it was nothing short of fate.

Wildest Dreams

It had been Tony’s idea. Of course it had. It always was, wasn’t it? He’d insisted that all the members of the team who hadn’t yet been exposed to Wanda’s mind manipulation should be, just in case there was a misfire during combat and one of you got caught in the crossfire. It would be important to see how each of you reacted, the kinds of things you saw so you’d be able to snap out of it.

Theoretically, of course.

This left Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Tony out, as they’d already had their fun with Wanda’s magic. The rest of you, however, were waiting for your turn.

Wanda felt conflicted about it. She didn’t want to hurt her friends on accident, let alone on purpose, but Tony was insistent, and he had some of the others on his side. Namely, Rhodey, who had been hanging out more and more, and Clint, who’d had his experience with a different kind of mind control shortly before the Battle of New York.

It was part of why he’d volunteered to go first. Once he came to, he gave you a thumbs-up, shaking it off and walking over to Natasha.

“You sure you’re good?” She checked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal. Who’s next?”

Sam looked at you and the despondent look on your face before volunteering himself to go next. Rhodey went in solidarity, despite being too busy with his government responsibilities to be a full-time member of the team. And then it was your turn. You stood next to Wanda. She offered an apologetic smile before red crackled around her fingertips and it hit you.

For the first few seconds, you were fine. You felt tingly. You blinked a few times and your eyes felt weird. No doubt, your eyes were red, like the others’ turned when they were under the influence of Wanda’s powers.

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, voice urgent.

“Think so.” You replied, mouth full of cotton. It felt like that time in college someone had given you an edible that was too strong. The first and last time you’d ever gotten high. Like you were sinking and melting. Your legs buckled and Steve surged forward, catching you before you hit the floor, gently lowering you into a comfortable position. “Hey, you’re pretty strong…” You murmured, head lolling onto his shoulder.

The others all looked at each other. Clint dragged over a bean bag and Steve gently lowered you onto it, adjusting it so you’d be comfortable.

“She’ll be okay, Steve.” Natasha reassured him, the guilt in his eyes palpable, yet still not explained. Not entirely. She had a sneaking suspicion whatever it was had something to do with the name written on his wrist, the name he wouldn’t show anyone. Not her, not Nick Fury, not even Sam.

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, slowly taking a step back. His eyes didn’t leave you. He had to force himself to look away. “I, um…I have to go…There’s a…” Steve motioned towards the door before leaving the room, while you sat there, catatonic, off in your own little world.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, his voice close. “That was a long nap. Forget to set your alarm?”

You opened your eyes and you were laying down on the couch. Steve was standing at the island in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good. Really good. He was wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, still wearing his slacks from work. He had music playing from the record player, your vast collection of hits from decades of music, and he was still hooked on 40s jazz. You supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“You cooking?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Come over here and get a taste.”

You followed, out to the kitchen. He set down his wooden spoon and swiftly intercepted you, pulling you up onto the countertop, kissing you deeply, a hand running through your hair. Your hand came up to frame his cheek. He was growing a bit of a beard these days. You liked it, thought it suited him.

You sighed against his lips and then pulled away to look at him. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. Three simple words. Steven Grant Rogers.

“I love you, doll.” His words cut through you, eyes tender and sincere. “Always have.”

But this wasn’t your Steve. And it wasn’t your reality, given away by the slightest tinge of red in his irises.

It wasn’t real. And neither was the glimmering wedding ring around your finger.

***

You blinked awake, the power dispersing from your head, leaving you shockingly sober. And hungry. That familiar sting was back, right between your neck and shoulder. You wondered how long it’d been.

Clint was in the room with you. So was Sam. Natasha was gone. Wanda too, surprisingly. As was Steve.

You got chills even thinking about him, the phantom of the wedding ring still clinging to your finger.

“You alright?” Sam asked, making eye contact with you first.

“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”

“Three minutes. New record.” Clint said with a grin.

“Oh.” No wonder it had felt so short. Part of you wanted it to last longer.

“We’re sending Rhodey to get some food, if you’re hungry.” Sam said.

“Where from?”

“The golden arches.”

“I could go for some nuggies.” You admitted. “A McFlurry, perchance.”

Clint laughed. “How did I know you would say that?”

In the kitchen, Steve stood, hands on the counter, mug of coffee steaming in front of him, untouched. He stared at the cupboard door.

“That must be one interesting cupboard. You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”

“It’s only been three.” Steve said, glancing at the clock.

“And the fact that you know down to the exact minute is why I’m so intrigued.” Natasha chimed, tilting her head. “What is going on with her? I have never seen you look at anyone like that in the entire time I’ve known you. Is she…what, the kid of an old friend? Grandkid?”

“It’s nothing, Natasha. She’s the newest member of the team, I’m just worried—”

“Steve.” She said, cutting him off, that look in her eye. “If you want to get all defensive about it, fine. Keep your secrets.” She sighed. “But if you need someone, I’m here. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Steve let out a long sigh, weighing his options. It was something to the tune of eight months until your birthday. That was still a long time. A lot of time for that secret to slip through the cracks and, potentially, break the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was something he had researched extensively. Your future together was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

No, it was too important that you stay in the dark, even if that meant keeping his friends in the dark, too.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded unconvinced. “Well, she’s out of it. Clint just texted. She wants twenty chicken nuggets and an Oreo McFlurry.”

The relief was immediate. You were okay. He could only wonder what you had seen in there, and why it had been so quick. The others had been under for upwards of ten minutes. You’d only been down three. “Well good. I’ll let Rhodey know.”

Invisible String

It was late. A few weeks after your tussle with the Scarlet Witch, if you could even call it that. You could tell Wanda felt guilty about the whole thing, but it wasn’t her fault. If anything it was Tony’s. Sure, the exercise had prepared you for a worst case scenario, but it had also dug a very awkward gap between you and Steve. You could barely even look at him without wanting to burst into tears.

He had his soulmate, whoever they were. You really needed to let it go.

You walked down to the kitchen to get a cold drink, but there was already someone sitting at the table. Steve, sitting there, hand resting on his chin, papers spread out in front of him. There was a picture you recognized as Bucky Barnes.

You’d heard whispers of him around the Compound from time to time. Steve’s best friend turned Hydra assassin, brainwashed for decades and now, rogue, out there somewhere. Sam always seemed to be looking for the guy. Natasha and Clint, too. And there had never been any sign of him. Well, until now, it seemed.

On the TV, Star Wars was playing. Empire Strikes Back. Steve looked up at it every so often.

“Star Wars?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your first time?”

“No. They were the first things I watched when I was out of the ice. I like them a lot. The hope, the Force, the Jedi stuff, the music.” He shrugged. “They’re good.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”

“And here I thought you’d say Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s great, too. You like Star Wars?”

“Yeah, I used to be obsessed with them in high school. Haven’t seen them in a while, though. I’m something of a Leia girl myself.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “You’ve got that spark.”

“What order did you watch them in?”

“Nat made me watch the originals first.” He confessed. “I like the prequels, though. Well, two of the prequels. Phantom Menace is…”

“Oh yeah. You’re not alone in that.” You laughed softly. “You know, I never really pegged you as a sci-fi nerd.”

“Yeah, well, someone I really care about seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew I had to check them out.” He shrugged. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Getting a drink. What are you doing up so late?”

He looked down at the papers and then back up at you. “Oh. Yeah, this is just…Trying to get some stuff figured out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered.

He thought about it for a long moment, letting out a little sigh before nodding. That was the only reassurance you needed before grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and plopping down into the seat next to him.

“They found him. Clint and Natasha. They think he’s hiding out in Kentucky somewhere.” Steve said. He shook his head. “He saved my life a few years ago. After all the brainwashing, he still pulled me out of the water. I don’t know how much of him is still him, but…”

“But it’s worth a try.” You reasoned. “Obviously he’s been through a lot, but he must be pretty strong to have made it through everything.”

“I don’t know when I’m going. They haven’t narrowed it down all the way. And Tony doesn’t want me to even go at all.”

“Tony is full of shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah…”

“If you want to go, you should go. And if you need me, I’m there. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

He met your eyes with a sobering gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed. “When, uh, when I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip down to DC. There’s a Captain America exhibit in the Air and Space Museum, it had just opened. We learned about you and Bucky. How close you were, what happened. There are videos of me just crying uncontrollably there, learning about it. They had to take me outside, get me some water. I couldn’t go back in. I don’t even know why. Something about it…”

“About me?” Steve whispered.

“That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have told you that.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” Steve said, reaching for your hand on the table. You let him take it, fingers curling.

“So when you found me that day, I guess I always knew it would lead to something like this. A stroke of fate, or something.” You admitted. “Some part of me knew that you would mean something to me someday. I guess I never thought we would be friends.”

“How old were you?”

“God, this would have been like ten years ago at this point. I was like fourteen or something. I was twenty-one when they found you in the ice. It was all over the news my sophomore year of college, kind of right when I was figuring my powers out, actually. And then everything was all over the news and I…went into hiding more or less, hoping it wouldn’t be me on the TV next.”

“Until the mall?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t just…let it happen, you know? It was like some part of me knew that I had these powers for a reason, and that if I didn’t stop it, who would? I didn’t know you were there, obviously, but, I think even if I had, I still would have jumped in.”

He smiled softly, eyes earnest. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Well I’m really glad you did, for the record. I think we’re all a little better off because of it.”

There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”

You chuckled. “No, like how old are you really?”

Steve took a breath. No one ever asked him that. No one really cared about that. No one except you, it seemed. “I’m not sure. I’d have to do some math. I think I’m twenty-eight maybe. Twenty-nine.”

“Thought so.” You smiled. “Well, Steve, whenever you get it figured out, say the word and I’ll suit up. We’ll bring him home.”

Out of the Woods

The next mission you were sent on wasn’t to bring back Bucky. Not yet. Instead, you were on the team that got deployed into a rainforest to break up a rogue Hydra base. It was warm, almost too warm for your uniform, but you were grateful for the coverage, especially when they started shooting.

You ran down the makeshift path, evading enemies and throwing up forcefields to stop them in their tracks. Thor was in town, so he was zipping around through the trees with his hammer, the force of it bringing some down every once in a while.

“On your six.” Steve reported through the comms. You dodged out of the way and sure enough, a Hydra agent tumbled ahead, tripped by a small field you cast at his feet. A few of Natasha’s bullets took care of that.

“Thanks.” You replied.

“Don’t mention it. I could actually use some backup. I’m in the building. There’s more of them than I thought there would be.”

“I’m on my way.” You reported, changing directions and sprinting towards the building housing the Hydra base. What they were doing here, you had no clue, but Bruce theorized it had something to do with a meteor that had landed out that way a few months prior. They were probably harvesting whatever materials had been inside it.

You kicked down the door. Steve had six guys on him, two of which he disposed of quickly. You made a portal beneath one guy, sending him falling down a flight of stairs with the second portal you opened.

The other three guys went down quickly enough, only for a guy in a giant mech armor to come crashing through the interior wall. He shot and Steve jumped in front of you, taking a hit to the neck. A tiny syringe filled with shimmering purple liquid.

“Fuck! Steve!” You ran to him, but that didn’t take care of the large problem looming behind you. Seeing red, you made another portal at the feet of the robot, opened it in the ceiling, and cut it off as it was halfway through, destroying it in a flash of sparks and shredded metal. It shut down, giving you time to get to Steve.

He was sitting against the wall, head slumped to the side. You took the syringe out of his neck, tucking it into a pouch on your belt for testing. If this thing was poison, you’d need Bruce to start whipping up an antidote as soon as possible.

“Steve, hey, stay with me.” You touched his face, trying to wake him.

At your touch, he blinked a few times, drowsy. He gave you a crooked smile. “Heyyy, there you are.”

“Come on, we’ve gotta get you back to the jet.” You told him, pulling him to his feet, but he slumped in your arms like dead weight. You had been working out since you’d been recruited, but he was still heavy. “You’ve gotta work with me, big guy.”

“They used to call me little guy.” He murmured, sounding drunk. “Back in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sure they did.” You slung his arm around your shoulders and started hauling ass out of the building. A few agents shot at you, trying to hit you while you were distracted with carrying Steve to safety, but they forgot you were the one Avenger whose specialty was defense.

You lit a forcefield in your left hand, using its faint blue light to guide the two of you through the dim hallways. It slowed all the bullets to a stop, causing them to drop to the floor harmlessly. There was something kind of poetic about it, you supposed. Steve was so famous for that shield of his, but now you were the shield, protecting him.

“Did you guys find anything in there?” Clint asked.

“The good news is, we cleared most of it out. Bad news is, Steve got shot with something. I’m bringing him back to the ship now. I don’t know what it was but he’s acting really drunk.”

“Tranq darts seem to have that effect on him, yeah.” Bruce explained. “Bring him back here and I’ll make sure it wasn’t laced with something else.”

“On it.”

You lugged Steve along, stopping to rest and readjust against a wall for a second.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me even when I don’t feel so good.” He said, leaning his full weight against you.

“Of course, Steve. I’ve got ya.” You pulled his arm around your shoulders again. “You would do the same for any of us.”

He smiled, face impossibly close to yours. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”

You knew it was probably just the drugs talking but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you when he said it anyway.

Once you were outside, you opened a waypoint in front of the two of you, the second portal in front of the jet, and then stepped through, closing it behind you. Bruce opened the door and helped you haul Steve inside, onto the cot of the makeshift mobile infirmary.

You handed Bruce the empty vial.

“Thank you for remembering. Thor always breaks these and then I have to do bloodwork to figure out what was in them.” He chuckled.

“He’s very smash first, ask questions later.”

“No wonder he and Hulk get along so well.” Bruce joked. “Alright, get back out there. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful out there.” Steve advised, eyes half-lidded. “They have guns.”

“I’ll be extra careful, alright? I promise.” You met his eyes and he smiled immediately. Once you were sure he was okay, you stepped out of the jet again, getting back to help the others.

***

When you got back, you were nursing a bullet wound. They’d gotten you in the arm. It wasn’t too bad, though, the bleeding had almost stopped. Natasha went straight for the med kit when you two stepped foot on the jet, motioning you over to the stool.

Steve was there, still on the cot. He stared as Nat started cleaning your wound. “Wait, you got hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He nodded and reached for your hand. “I’m really glad you’re alright, doll. Had me worried sick.”

Doll. You replayed the word in your mind. Steve had called you a lot of things in the past few months, but never once had he used that somewhat outdated term of endearment. You liked it, though.

You met Natasha’s eyes and she smirked while the supersoldier held your hand.

Sam walked in next, eyeing up the scene unfolding in front of him. “Woah, what’d I miss? Feels like I missed several chapters.”

“Steve is drunk.” Clint explained, counting his remaining arrows.

“Tranq dart. He’s fine. Just needs to ride it out for a few hours. He should be back to normal by the time we get home.” Bruce explained as he put away his tablet.

“You feeling alright, buddy?” Sam walked over and put a hand on Steve’s other arm. “You’re holding (Y/N)’s hand kinda tight there.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, directing his eyes to your joint hands. He let go. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” You reassured him.

The others trickled in slowly until everyone was accounted for, the base destroyed, the Hydra operatives in SHIELD custody for questioning. Fury and his team would handle it from there. You couldn’t help but play the mission over and over in your head.

Never had you used a waypoint to split something in half. But something had clicked in you when Steve was hurt. You’d never felt like that before, like part of your soul itself was being ripped out. He meant more to you than you cared to admit, especially when your fate was tied elsewhere.

Still, your new ability needed training. It was a dangerous skill to have, and if you didn’t hone it properly, you could end up doing some serious damage on accident.

Come Find Me in the Future

It was the night before you and a select group of the team were heading out to find and recover Bucky. Clint had finally gotten a hit on him. But if he had, that meant others could be after him, too. People that wanted him back. Badly.

You were nervous about it for that reason. You weren’t sure why the rest of you hadn’t already left, to be honest. You didn’t want to race with Hydra. It wasn’t one you were sure you’d win.

To stave off the feeling of dread, you had commandeered the living room TV and popped in Howl’s Moving Castle. You were nursing a mug of chamomile tea in your hands, playing games on your Switch.

You were near the end of the movie, at the part where Sophie was whisked to the past, when Steve walked into the room, in his pajamas, a tank top and a pair of plaid pants.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey. You’re up late. Big mission tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s almost over.” You told him. “Drinking my sleepy tea as we speak.”

“Sleepy tea?”

“Chamomile mint. It’s good. There’s some over by the Keurig if you want any.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, walking over. “What’s this?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle. One of my favorites.” You told him.

“What’s it about?”

“That is a complicated question.” You laughed. “I’d have to start it over, I think.”

“Another time, maybe.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

Steve watched as Sophie got sucked back through the wormhole to the present.

She called out “I know how to help you now! Find me in the future!”

He perked up. “Wait, she…there’s time travel?”

“Yeah, she gets pulled into the past for a bit and tells him to find her and then years later, the first words he says to her are ‘There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ It’s really sweet.”

“They’re soulmates?”

“They are.” You nodded.

“Does that happen? Often?” Steve asked, hung up on it. “In real life?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would believe it, even if it did. Happens a lot in fiction, though.”

“Oh. Cool.” Steve nodded. He met your eyes and then looked down at his lap, tongue flitting across his pink lips. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”

“The mission last week. I, uh…I said some things and, uh…I just, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t.” You assured him. “No apology necessary. You were drugged. I probably would have said worse, to be honest.”

He smiled. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to come tomorrow. We could really use the help.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.” You told him, earning another one of those earnest, lovesick smiles. “Anywho, I finished that playlist for you. The Taylor Swift one. I can make you a more general one with different songs, but…figured that was a decent starting place.”

“Great, yeah, thank you.” He nodded, looking at his phone as it pinged with the notification you had sent it to him. “I’ll give it a listen.”

“Let me know what you think.”

“Oh I will.” He chuckled to himself. “Really, thank you. I appreciate it. And um, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” You saluted.

He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”

Bygones

Bright and early was an understatement. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when your alarm went off. You groaned, rolled over and silenced your screaming phone, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t drift back off.

Today was too important for that.

Instead, you got up, brushed your hair, and went out to the kitchen, where Vision had whipped up a full breakfast for everyone going out. It was you, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Sam. A small team, but enough firepower to bring him back without overwhelming and/or scaring him off.

“Morning.” Steve said, eyes landing on you the moment you walked into the room.

“Morning.”

“Coffee?” He offered, pushing a cup of your favorite iced coffee over to you. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed.

“Thanks.” You grinned, taking a long sip to kickstart your morning. You loaded a plate up with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast, plus a little side of hashbrowns, thanking Vision thoroughly.

“It is my pleasure, (Y/N). As someone who does not require sleep, it would be rude of me to let you all starve so early in the day.”

“(Y/N), you got him listening to Taylor Swift?” Sam asked, eyes drilling into you.

You laughed. “Uh, yeah. What about it? She’s a cultural icon, do you want him left out of the loop?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Steve shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

“Of course you’re not.” Natasha chuckled, words warbled by her own cup. You noticed the way her lips pursed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was nervous. About what, you couldn’t tell. She seldom got nervous. Or at least, she seldom let it show. But it was definitely there.

Wanda was the last into the kitchen, already fully put together. She gave the chef her thanks with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. Those two, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were absolutely made for each other. You wondered what her wrist would have to say about it when the time came.

Once everyone had eaten, those who weren’t suited up got ready, locked and loaded for a tense mission. You’d have Clint on the coms here, doing recon from a drone. The rest of you loaded up onto the jet, strapping in.

Nat and Sam hopped into the cockpit. Wanda sat next to you, Steve across the aisle, his eyes meeting yours every so often.

“It’ll be alright.” You said, trying to dispel his nerves.

He nodded, but didn’t reply, just giving a short nod and staring at the holographic map on the wall as you approached closer and closer. You could see that little guy from Brooklyn peeking through the eyes of the supersoldier sitting across from you, nervous about his best friend.

You unbuckled just before you landed, walking across the jet to strap on your weapons. The others did the same, arming themselves. Nat was going to keep the jet warm for a speedy exit, the look in her eyes still unreadable. The rest of you got ready for war.

It was an abandoned warehouse, large garage door, broken windows, slanted roof with a hole in it. Definitely not the most secure of places. According to Clint’s drone, Bucky was in the back room.

“Waypoint, I need you out here ready to get us a quick escape.”

“Got it.” You nodded, positioning yourself within eyeshot of the warehouse and the jet so you could make a portal either way.

“Wanda, Sam, you’re with me.” Steve instructed, taking a minute to breathe, to think. “He’s gonna be ready to run. We have to talk him out of it.”

“Uh, Cap. Might wanna work a little faster. There’s another plane incoming. About three minutes out.”

“Alright.” Steve nodded, taking off his helmet and slinging his shield onto his back. He led the other two into the building.

For a heartwrenching two minutes, you didn’t hear anything. And then you heard a plane. And then gunshots.

“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.

You did as you were told, opening the waypoint in the warehouse, another just outside. Nat had picked the jet up off of the ground, firing at the one Hydra had brought. She took another shot, damaging the wing and causing it to go down.

“Shit, wait—!”

There was a flash of light and you expected it to be Steve that came through first. Maybe Bucky, even. Instead, it was a grenade. And a split second later, it exploded, knocking you unconscious.

***

Steve stood over you, horrified. Thanks to your suit, the damage didn’t seem too bad. But you had blood and soot caked on your face, the ends of your hair singed.

It was his fault. He had told you to open the Waypoint, only for a Hydra agent to toss a grenade right through it.

He all but collapsed to his knees, collecting you in his arms. Bucky was on the jet already, Sam, too. Only he and Wanda were outside with you.

“(Y/N), come on. Open those eyes for me.” He pleaded, voice soft, eyes aching with tears. “Hey, come on. Please…”

“We should get her back to the jet.” Wanda goaded softly, a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. He scooped you off of the ground, an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back. Your arms hung down, limp. Your head rested heavily against his shoulder, eyes closed.

By the time Steve walked up the ramp, Nat already had the infirmary cot down, ready to go. Bucky watched, eyes intense. He looked up when Steve approached, eyes falling on you. They widened when he got a look at you.

“Woah, is that…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”

Natasha helped him get you situated in the cot, wrapping the cuff around your arm that would measure your vitals. With everyone accounted for, Sam closed the door, lifting the jet into the air.

“I’ve got Banner on the line.” Natasha told him.

“Good.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second, watching as the breaths entered and left your lungs. “Tell him to get the infirmary ready for her.”

“Already on it, Cap. She’ll be okay. Her vitals look…well they look good, all things considered.” Bruce relayed. “Just get back here as fast as you can.”

***

As soon as the jet landed, Steve unhooked you from the vitals monitor and collected you in his arms, carrying you to the gurney Bruce had ready, walking with him as he wheeled you towards the infirmary. Bruce insisted he needed some time and sent Steve away, taking a piece of his heart with him.

Vision checked over Bucky, giving him the okay almost immediately before going to help Bruce in the infirmary.

Steve sat at the table, Bucky sitting down to join him. The others gave them a minute alone.

“Hey, pal.” Steve exhaled, trying to force a smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He agreed. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. “I’m with you—”

“Til the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, eyes soft. His irises flicked towards the infirmary and back. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve let out a sigh, the wall finally coming down and more tears slipping down his cheeks. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. She’s—”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” Bucky’s hand grabbed onto Steve’s wrist, the covered one. The one with her name etched onto it. “She has to be. Has she…does she know yet?”

“No one does. Just me. And you.” Steve confessed. He wiped his thumb under his eye. “So you’re right. She has to pull through.”

Steve held onto that spark of hope for the coming hours. He showed Bucky to the room that had been prepared for him, but Sam offered to give him a tour of the place, knowing their friend was in a fragile mental state.

Eventually, Vision found him and told him he could enter the infirmary. Bruce had finished treating you. When Steve walked in and saw you, still unconscious, laying on that bed, he choked on more sobs. The bruising on your face was pretty severe. You were hooked up to several monitors, an IV. Supposedly, your injuries were not too extreme, but you had a cracked rib and would need time to heal before you could do any missions or training.

Hours later, Nat found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. He fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. The playlist you’d made for him played softly from a speaker in the corner of the room. Timeless. As if he wasn’t already crying enough.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood. Members of the team had been injured before and sure, he checked on them, but he never reacted like this.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all. It’s…kinda my fault this happened.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

He wanted to hold onto his secret. He did. But he was feeling fragile, vulnerable. It couldn’t hurt to have just one more person on his side. “I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, if you could even hear him while you were out, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. Her fingers reached for her own cuff. She hesitated, but pulled it off, holding her soulmark out to him. “Fair is fair.”

Steve stared at the letters for a long time, realization slowly filling his eyes. The name on her wrist was none other than James Buchannan Barnes. “Oh my God.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you until all the dust settled, but it just settled, so…” She shrugged, putting the cuff back on. “I’ll figure out how to tell him, too, if he doesn’t know already.”

“Buck’s mark was grayed out back then. We thought…well, we didn’t know what it meant.” Steve said, shaking his head. It was the reason Bucky had dated around so much back then. He’d figured if he just found someone else, his mark would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone. Never could he have guessed what it actually meant, that his soulmate wouldn’t be born for another forty or so years. “And then he lost his arm…”

“Yeah, that part I did know.” She smirked. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Let you know if she says anything you need to hear.”

“She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too. Everyone else does.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed, gazing longingly through the window.

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. You’ve waited seventy years. Six months is nothing.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Nevertheless, she was glad they had talked. At least now, they could be there for each other.

Vol. 2 Here

Tags: @cap-lu20

[jolapeno]

helen. simon.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Warnings: angst. smut. preestablished situationship. blowjobs. war/wounds. Wordcount: 4.3k Rating: 18+, Explicit. AN: Helen isn't the reader's real name. masterlist for ghost.

“Helen, you copy?” 

You press the radio, grab a pair of gloves and throw a tub of utensils on your tray. 

Because if he was radioing ahead, it was bad. 

“Ghost, you know that’s not my alias.” 

“It suits you.” 

Clutching the radio, you roll your tongue over your teeth. “Am I dealing with your handiwork or someone else’s?” 

“You’re a medic, Helen. Not a coroner.” 

“Ever the gentleman. How far?” 

He didn’t answer, because of course he fucking didn’t. 

The doors of your makeshift medic tent were forced open with a crack, watching Ghost carrying in a bleeding Soap. The radio in your hand quickly discarded, the gloves snapping against your wrist and fingers as you move closer, eyeing up the work. 

Ghost nods in your direction once he placed Soap down with a groan, you roll your eyes, walking towards them.

You pull your tray on wheels close. “Boo, how did you let this happen to him?” 

Your fingers brush over stained scarlet fabric, taking the scissors from the tray to begin cutting Gaz’s clothes free from his shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be looking after him—“

“—I’m right here—“ Soap protests. 

But you continue, as if he didn’t speak. “—Through and through?” 

“Affirmative,” Ghost says, your eyes glancing to his as he holds your stare. 

Nodding, you look down, offering a comforting smile. “This isn’t going to be a tickle.” 

“I trust you, Doc,” Soap groans. 

“Probably the best decision you’ve made,” you comment, grabbing some alcohol to disinfect.

Soap hisses as the alcohol hits, and your gloved fingers spread quickly over the site, your hand swapping the bottle for a needle. 

“Slow breaths for me, MacTavish,” you smile, beginning your work. 

Stitching is easy. Even if you’re being watched like a hawk. 

You’re neat, gentle—that’s what you’re told anyway. 

For you, it’s one of the nicer parts of your job for saying what you were ordered to do. Which makes you wonder why you were called ahead. 

It’s normally worse, much worse. 

The only explanation you can think of, is because of the person bringing Soap in wanted you to know he’d be here. That his presence would be around yours. 

“You’re gentler than I imagined,” Soap mumbles. 

Your lips curl into a smirk, glancing at him as you place your needle down to wipe the blood from the site. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.” 

“No?” 

Shaking your head, dropping the stained cotton wool in a bowl as you briefly catch Ghost’s eyes before meeting Soap’s. “No. But don’t make it a habit of ending up here. It’s my choice to be gentle.” 

There’s something about hearing a certain kind of laugh come from you. 

When it used to be for him, it was bliss. 

It was everything. It was like light, and warmth—both a beautiful mix of the sun and the moon, one warming his bones and one guiding him home. 

It’s for that reason when he hears your laugh and he’s not in the room—that bothers him. 

He’s aware he has no right. 

Nothing should compel him to feel anything. He’s not jealous, because there’s nothing that ties him into being jealous. He’s a lone wolf, he doesn’t grow attachments. 

Ghost doesn’t even show his goddamn face. 

You are not his—he is not yours. 

Something the two of you came to the conclusion of last time. Just two entities that seem to find one another across battlefields and missions. 

Even if—truthfully—this time, he’s the one who recommended you. The one who made you be here. 

Your list of skills were important, necessary. That’s what he told Price, his exact words if he remembers. A medic, a hacker, and a great shot if needed. 

Most of all, he likes you close—likes knowing you are safe. 

He shouldn’t. 

His past enough evidence to showcase why he shouldn’t let people get close, why he should keep you far away from him. But, he can’t. 

You being one of the few who have seen him—all of him. He hadn’t known your name when you’d cleared the tent, waiting to ask him what he needed. 

It was the care, that made him move. There had been no other reason. Most, if not all, knew his identity was a secret. You having being briefed, most likely, and yet while that was enough of an explanation as to why you cleared the room, you still ensured it was. 

It’s why he let his hands guide your fingers to remove his mask that first time, the blood from his gash coating both of your fingers until the mask was removed. He remembers how warm your eyes were even now and then how quickly they switched to being practical. To the small things like turning him fully from the view of the door to cleaning and stitching him.

Ghost had been sure you could hear his heart with how close you stood. How your thighs were on either side of his knee as you closed the cut on his forehead from his fall. If you did hear, you said nothing. 

Turning from him when you were done and saying you can put your spare on now, Simon. 

You rarely used his name. 

Almost as though maskless him was Simon, and Ghost was someone else. 

He wanted to ask how you knew, who had told you of the spares he kept on his persons. But when you turned, staring into his eyes, he knew you just knew. 

And so it was you he sought, practically seeking you like a bullet aiming for a target. You allowed him into your quarters, attending to wounds without the risk of others seeing him. 

The name Helen came because he’d heard the talk. 

The others discussing you, wondering in loud tones what you looked like under your tactical gear or your scrubs. If your grip would be as firm around their cocks as you were with a needle or scalpel. 

He didn’t know what sat in his belly, but it was close to the fire when he sought you out. His mask half lifted as he connected his lips to yours, both needing to claim you and taste you simultaneously. His arm pulled you clean from the ground, your spine connecting with the door of your quarters as he ripped and stripped you of the few clothes you were wearing. 

If he makes himself remember, he can still feel how gentle the pads of your fingers were when they lifted his mask that first time. How your eyes softened, his mask had fallen to the floor before you kissed him. 

That’s when he should have known he was fucked, because he went back time and time again. 

The two of you kept your distance. Except for the private moments behind watchful eyes, the moments he’d offer you a drink—hand brushing yours. His knee pressed against yours when you sat next to him at the few mealtimes you were able to sit for. 

Then it unravelled. 

He said things. You said nothing. 

One day there, one day not. 

Transferred he heard. 

He didn’t want to know enough, worried a part of him would try to find you. Telling himself, it was for the best until Price invited him to join. 

And then he got you back. 

One quick word, and there you were. 

All smirks, quick-tongued and glistening eyes once more. His eyes found you across briefings, the corner of your eye meeting his before your lips quirked. 

He was content, happy almost… then there was Soap. 

Soap let his eyes linger on your face for longer than he needed to. Soap, who made you laugh with ease, who you spoke to without need or cause.

And he’s not jealous. 

There’s nothing to be jealous of. He saw to that.

So there's no reason for the anger bubbling inside of him as he stands outside, listening to Soap make you laugh while you check his stitches. 

It’s rare to see Soap without Ghost. 

For as lone-wolf as he pretends to be, Soap seems harder for him to shake. 

It doesn’t shock you when they both walk into the briefings together, when they’re not far from each other. You heard, as did the rest, how good of a team the two of them were. 

Bonded, they said. 

Betrayal did that too. 

Their trays come down, your eyes flicking up as you pull a piece of bread from your roll. They’re bickering about what you aren’t sure about, your focus on eating and not the fact you’ve felt his knee against yours. 

The touch, the sign, almost making you lose your breath. 

Ghost doesn’t move it, as if it’s purposefully there, wanting you to remember—as if you could ever fucking forget. 

You knew what people said, the chatter. But you knew he knew the truth. That you never sought company amongst others. A rule, one you’d broken for him and him alone. 

Not that he thought he was worthy of it. 

He didn’t need to say it then, as he doesn’t need to now. 

Ghost, once he’s let you in, is easy to read. 

To some, he’s cold and distant, but it’s the fleeting in-between people miss. It’s also the way everyone else calls you your alias, except him. 

They think it’s teasing, him being… Ghost. 

But if they listened to the infliction in his voice, it’s not that at all. It’s as close to the way he says your name when he’s buried inside of you; it’s as close to how it sounds when his lips are by your ear, fingers around your neck as he makes your eyes roll in the back of your head. 

It’s his way of—

“Chip?” Soap asks, pushing his tray towards you. 

Pulling you from your thoughts, you swallow. Sliding your knee more against Ghost’s as you smile, shaking your head to Soap. “I’m good. How’s the arm?” 

“Better. Thanks, Doc.” 

You nod, dropping the rest of your roll down onto the tray and brushing the crumbs from your fingers. 

“I never asked, why does he call you Helen?” Soap asks, jutting his head to the man beside him. 

The one who has barely moved his mask to eat, even if his tray is full. You feel his knee move, and your eyes flick to him, finding his on his own tray. 

 “Helen of Troy,” you reply, just above a whisper, head tilting as you watch Soap’s expression. “The face that launched a thousand ships? I know you know first-hand his odd humour, but I think he really believes he’s being funny.”

“I don’t think it. I am funny.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“What’s the story behind Boo then?” 

You laugh, pushing your tray away. “He’s a ghost from Super Mario. Not as funny or as complimentary, but relatable. While I don’t think he cackles down corridors, he is an annoying fucker who people should learn not to turn their back on.” 

It also sounded gentler. 

Like a pet name. Something which you’d done purposefully to annoy him, than be affectionate. But it stuck. 

Like all things did between the two of you. 

Before, you could imagine a life with Simon. The way his eyes soften for a millisecond when they land on you. It’s in those small moments you could have imagined a small home and a dog, maybe a roast on a Sunday and blankets in the winter. 

But it’s Ghost who you have in front of you now, and it’s Ghost who drew a line under it all. 

Now all of the memories are tainted with bitterness, all twisted reminders of times that weren’t this. Where he kept his distance, and you hardened yourself, so you didn’t close the space.

“Careful,” Ghost comments, his gruff voice silencing the two of you. 

Your eyes fall to the table as you stand, smiling. 

It wasn’t just that he thought you were beautiful, as to why he called you Helen. 

It started as that. 

But soon enough, he realised he’d launch a thousand ships for you himself—or, more relatably, in his line of work, make a thousand bullet rain down. 

He’d caged it, though. Stuffed it in some dark corner where the rest of his issues were. It was fine there, it was welcomed and perfect. 

Then, just as Ghost had managed to stuff it away, it came out when he spotted the enemy on the rooftop. Sneaking around, heading in your direction. 

He’d advised against splitting up, even if he’d been overruled. Half of him wanted to yell at anyone and everyone that you shouldn’t even be on out here, not when medics—good medics—were hard to fucking come by.

It's why he doesn’t think when he leaves his place. His body moved without question. His brain knows your radio isn’t working, it’s been crackling, breaking up. At first, he thought you were being you—annoying. Until you called him Ghost in a tone, he didn’t care for. 

It fuels him, that tone. His boots hammer into the cobbles as he hears the bullets. 

Hand on his radio. “Get to the fountain, Soap. Ambush in progress. Now.” 

Barely hearing him reply as his hand grasps his knife, throwing it at the one sneaking up before his arm finds you.

Ghost pulls you close, practically grabbing you; your gasp fills his ears before he throws the two of you through a wooden door. 

It splinters around the two of you as you fall to the tiled floor with a thud. Hands on you, pushing you behind the counters as he shields you, pulling your body close. 

His chin digs into your neck, heartbeat thundering in his ears, mixing with the bullets puncturing the air, wall, windows and anything else they can touch until silence. 

Until nothing. 

Both of you waiting, suddenly realising that your hands are around him, gripping his waist with the same intensity until his radio sounds. 

“Ghost.” 

“Soap,” he replies, feeling you shift, moving from him. 

He knows it then. 

Knows how fucked he is, especially when you don’t meet his eyes. An achievement which isn’t celebrated by the two of you. 

Even if you got it, the hard drive. The thing they’d been seeking. 

He avoids you. 

Or does his best too. He does so until it’s hard to breathe, the tension thickening in the base each time he passes you, each time he hears someone says your name—your real name. 

Not your alias. 

Not Helen. 

But your actual, fucking name. 

The same one he’s moaned himself, the same one he’s whispered when the lights were out, and your body were against his. 

You’re like a wound that never heals, and he can’t risk it anymore. Can’t chance bleeding out in front of everyone, not letting this fall apart—not driving you away again. 

I don’t think we can be friends. 

It’s all he says as he stands near your desk, knowing he’s leaving the base for a mission. Six fucking words that made your head whip up so quick he’s surprised your head remained on your neck. 

All he thought was don’t give me the eyes. Don’t give me that fucking look that you do. 

And you did. 

That look made it hard for him not to take them back, to not close the gap between you and pull you so close and never let you go. 

Why? 

That’s all you asked. 

Throwing your pen down, a little anger to it as your shoulders raised and your jaw tightened. 

Why Ghost? 

He doesn’t answer. 

He just turned on his heels and boarded the plane. 

The whole time he felt the answer rolling around his head, sitting on the tip of his tongue like an ulcer that hurt and annoyed him. 

On the plane back, it worsened. It made him feel heavy. Worsened by images of that look you gave him, the one so reminiscent of the look you gave him all those years ago. 

“You’re hard to be around.” 

He watches you lift your head from your book. He didn’t even mean to come to your quarters. But here his boots were, the lamp giving your face a soft glow as he stepped through the open door of your space.

You close the book slowly, running a hand over your face before sighing. “Don’t come to my space then, Ghost.” 

He closes your door, taking a long time to turn back to face you, but when he does, he sees it on your face. That same look. 

“It’s why I can’t be friends with you. You’re too hard to be around.” 

It’s a look which has haunted his dreams and hung in the depths of his nightmares. 

“It’s not easy to be around you either,” you reply. 

He watches, barely moving as you untangle your legs, slowly standing. For a second, you seem in two minds about whether to close the gap. Fingers twitching at your sides. 

“You left.” You left me. 

“I transferred.” You gave me no choice.

“Same thing.” 

He watches as your chest rises and falls. His fingers move to undo his vest, his belt, throwing it down to take some of the weight off. Your eyes not leaving him. 

“You hurt?” 

He snorts. 

Because no, not where you can fix him. 

And he won’t ever admit the rest. 

“You don’t have to be an arsehole,” you comment. “It’s a choice. A no is sufficient.” 

You move closer before pausing again. 

“You still hate me?” 

It’s all he can ask. 

Your face twisting ever so slightly. 

Many wouldn’t notice, but he does. He knows each one of your faces, each twist of a feature and what it means. All the times he’s found himself watching, all of it benefiting him in the end. 

But, even if your face is doing one thing, your eyes are doing something entirely different. Mixing between nothingness and pain, shimmering in the low light, transfixing him to the point it takes him a moment to realise you’re in front of him. Your hand on his masked-covered cheek before your thumbs hooks under it. 

He lets you run your nails over his stubble, he lets you slide against his jaw as he remains perfectly still. More so when you lift it just above his nostrils, letting the back sit on the tip of his nose before you lift up on your tiptoes and you kiss him.  

It’s instinctive, the way his arm comes around your waist and lifts you off the ground. It’s routine how your arms come around his neck and legs around his waist. 

His hand in your hair makes you moan, that sweet, delicious sound he wishes would coat him forever. He wraps what he can in his grip before tugging, biting your bottom lip and saying, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You pull back from his lips, a look on his face he actually can’t read. This is why you must let your legs go, sliding down him, holding his puzzled gaze as you pull your cami top over your head. His gaze falling temporarily from your face to your bare chest, tracing the front of his teeth with his tongue before watching you snake your fingers into the band of your shorts and underwear. 

It feels slow, even if it’s in his head, how you wiggle them down your thighs until they pool at your feet. Standing, bare, exposed just for him. 

“I can’t hate you.” 

“Come here,” he groans, hunger dripping in his demanding tone. 

And you do. 

You don’t drag your feet, you willingly move until your body is against him, lips groaning against his as you capture his tongue. Your hands make work of his trousers, his feet stepping out of them as he yanks his t-shirt over his head. 

Then you grip his waist and his thighs, sliding down to your knees as you peel his underwear from his skin. 

He hisses when you lick a strip up the base of his cock, sliding his hands free from his gloves so he can properly grip his hands in your hair. 

Ghost needs to hold onto something as you take him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing, eyes staring up at him, looking every bit his Helen. Your tongue twists around the head, the air painted with gruff moans and hisses all coming from him as you slide your teeth down as much as you can. 

He could fuck your throat. 

Fuck, he wants to. 

Instead, he pulls you to your feet, seeing the disappointment fading as he places you back up and standing.  

He expects you to move his mask, to let your fingers trace the parts of his face you rarely see.

But you don’t. You just pull him with you, walking the two of you to your bed before lying down and pulling him with you. 

It’s the way he holds you flush to him as if he needs to be inside of you—pulling you close until there’s no space. Your hand sliding between you both, his groan filling the space as you palm his want, his need through thin boxers as he runs his stubble against your neck.

Ghost slides his forehead over yours, the mask likely rough against your skin, eyes burning into him. “You’re never this silent.” 

His fingers move from your hips to move his mask, but your hand grasps his wrist. Swallowing. 

“I don’t want Simon.” 

His head tilts ever so slightly. Suddenly not able to say a thing. 

“Not tonight.” 

It’s his turn to swallow. “Alright.”

And he lowers his palm to the space beside your head, caging you in. 

“Eyes on me,” he says gruffly. 

You are a coward. 

A very sore coward. 

You left Ghost in your room when he fell asleep beside you. You reasoned there was always something to do, and even if you were sure you had bruised bites forming on the inside of your thighs—you needed to keep busy. 

Any other day, inventory bored the shit out of you. 

Tonight, with the knowledge that a certain Lieutenant had almost made you forget your own name, it was wanted, needed. 

A distraction like no other, which is rudely interrupted after only being here an hour. 

His mask is back on. His clothes are as neat as they can be for saying they were thrown and discarded in a corner. 

“Don’t do that again.” 

You almost comment what, but the look, the fact he’s barely put on any black around his eyes, says he’s not in the mood. 

"Leave. Don't leave like that again."

You shake your head. “That an order, Lt?” 

“Damn right it is,” he says, his tone matching the expression he’s giving perfectly. 

You swallow, staring at him. “Don’t do this, Ghost.” 

“We’re way past, Ghost, don’t you think.”

Clicking your pen, you place it down with your clipboard, turning your body, so you face him. Properly. 

“You’re being cruel,” you say, pulling your chair over as you seat yourself down. "And I know you know that..."

You roll your lips. “You have to be. Because you know how I feel… and yet you’re doing this all over again. I asked you when I first got here, if could we just be friends. And you agreed. And now...” 

“I know.” 

“So… what is with the knee, and the looks, and… I can’t do this again, Simon, I can’t try and get over you. I’m not that good, I’m not… I’m not that strong. Not for you, not when it comes to you, Simon.” 

His eyes flicker. 

It taking a moment to register that you said his name. 

His real name. 

The one you rarely, if ever, used, even behind private walls. Not because you didn’t want to but because it unlocked too much. It opened all of your locked places and unleashed the flurry of dreams and hopes that came with it. 

And it’s all made worse by the way he says your name. 

It’s soft and horribly gentle. He says your name just then like he’s trying to soothe you, but it just hurts. 

It hurts because you love him. 

You keep loving him. You try to build walls between the man you love and the person he has to be. It’s why you made him keep the mask on, it’s why you only whispered his real name when he brought you to climax. 

It looks, from his expression staring at you, like he’s put the pieces of that puzzle together too, now.

You don’t expect it. Even after all the many versions of Ghost you’ve seen. 

But, Ghost slowly lowering onto his knees, and not to spread your thighs, is unique. Especially when he just stares, saying so much without uttering a word. 

And then, watching as one hand slides the glove off the other, your eyes following it as he takes your hand in his, clutching it, holding it. Something the two of you have never done outside either of your rooms—in the past or the present. 

Slowly, as tears begin to prick, feeling overwhelmed by the silence and the loudness of the moment. Especially as his other hand takes your chin, pulling your face to meet his as he presses his forehead to yours. 

It’s simple. Nothing too many. 

But to you, it’s everything. 

It’s more than a declaration, especially from him. And you get it, your hurt feelings vanishing, disappearing as he wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper. 

His eyes hold yours. “Okay.” 

“It’ll be hard.” 

“And worth it.”

You nod, letting a soft smile tug at your lips as he wipes another stray tear. "You may get sick of me, I'm very annoying."

"I already know that." You smirk, and he grips your hand tighter. “Still... you're mine. My Helen.” 

You snort, “My Simon.” 

masterlist for ghost.

[quinnydoll]

You should watch Eureka Seven

So there's this neat little show I watched before I turned 10 when I couldn't understand a goddamn thing, and it caused me to think about the cool aesthetics of giant robots flying around stylishly on boards as naturalistic trails flow behind them.

I rewatched the show recently with my lovely nesting partner, because I wanted to revisit its world, and I was offered so much more than I remembered. Yes, the show is absolutely what I just described in the previous paragraph/run-on sentence(fuck you this isn't a school assignment) but it's also SO MUCH MORE.

I'm not going to beat around the bush, there's a singular gif I can show people that usually convinces them to watch it with the added info that this isn't just a super highlighted moment, it's just what the show looks like:

(side note: if you haven't seen this show in its entirety, do not, I repeat DO NOT search for gifs of it on this site, never have I ever seen such a dense wall of spoilers)

Still with me? I'd hope so after that display! Also, for non-mecha fans, PLEASE I am begging you to still give the show a chance, it's so worth it!

So we need to start off with this show's worldbuilding. The giant robots can wait, because first we have to address the most glaring thing: everyone seems to have access to these boards that seemingly allow them to levitate and travel in midair on these almost fluid-like trails. These are explained as Trappar Waves, and not much is explained about them early on. I'm going to keep my explanation brief, because it's way more satisfying to watch the mystery unravel through the course of the show.

Basically, the planet this takes place on is full of these waves, and that's one of the main things that everything relies on, and why we can see effectively airships that are just perpetually suspended in the air without need to refuel constantly. This is what allows them to stay up. Also the reason why we see characters with their nifty little boards. Oh yeah, the giant robots have those boards too.

That's the main thing I wanna address about the world of this show, because explaining the rest would genuinely spoil so much of the show, and the experience would be extremely reduced by me explaining. Just trust me, it's really good.

Now, the format of the show is actually masterfully done. The first arc involves the immaturity of the main character, and the format of the show reflects it heavily in the very slice of life format as our main character is enchanted with the conditions he's been put into. At this stage of the series, it's not very serious, and its stakes are pretty low.

As it progresses though, it eases you into a far more coherent overarching narrative in a way that feels really natural and well done. You'll never really "notice" the point at which "shit gets real" or anything, you'll just find yourself way more interested in the bigger picture of what's going on, because the show puts a larger focus on it.

There's a romance story in it too, and it's actually really well done, which is something I haven't really seen effectively done in a lot of action anime, but I think in this case it's because they don't really treat it like a "subplot." They do a really good job of tying it into the main story, and they make it feel pretty real as a romance, and by the end, the payoff is the most satisfying one I've seen of really any romance plot that isn't necessarily the actual main focus of a story. I genuinely feel like they could've conveyed the story they did without the romance plot, but something truly impactful would've been lost had they gone that route.

I think it's not unfair to compare this show to Neon Genesis Evangelion, but at the time, it would be doing both stories a serious disservice. Evangelion is a really effective exploration into nihilism and mental illness, but Eureka Seven feels like a direct response in the way it delivers its story. It feels like it did a Better Rebuild™ before the Rebuild movies even came out.(let it not be said that I don't like the Rebuild series, it's legitimately in my top ten.) Early on, they communicate a lot of the same themes, but then Eureka Seven diverges hard with how it explores the intricacies of interpersonal relations and how people will strive to do better and how people can genuinely be better to each other. I feel like the way it delivers that is genuinely way more effective than even the extremely cathartic conclusion to Evangelion 3.0 + 1.0.

Seriously though, if you're not interested in watching this show, I don't know how to convince you. It's truly a fantastic show, and it's honestly taken the spot of "favorite anime" in my book. I am no longer a Gundam fan, but an Eureka Seven fan who also likes Gundam. You're going to love this show, even if you're not into mecha anime.

[nahoney22]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. (If you feel like it, no pressure.) Spread the self-love ❤️

Oooo let me see.

Well seeing as I’ve done well over 100 fics it’s quite difficult to pick a fave. I would say the ones I first ever did are my faves as they definitely helped me grow my blog but imma switch it up and add these:

1) Different Tactics

- now this is definitely my favourite NSFW Tech fic I’ve written as a huge self indulge but I think it’s kinda neat 👍🏼

2) 105th Try

- this was my first ever Fives fic and it holds a special place in my heart. The writing is abit iffy but I like to think I’ve improved since then.

3) Desperation

- explanation needed? No. It’s Commander Mayday.

4) The Cabin

- this may be my first Crosshair fic (?) but also my first time doing sex pollen. I just enjoyed writing something different for a change.

5) Optimisation

- I just really like some Tech fluff and comfort.

[sovonight]

promise

—✧✧✧—

"It is true, then, that this Bhaalspawn is an elf? How unfortunate. Then again, it was inevitable that Bhaal would mar our people; it is a small mercy, at least, that she was not raised among us."

"…And why is that?" Xan asks.

"Her violent nature. It inhibits her ability to live peacefully in our society." An eyebrow rises—in response to the expression on his face, Xan realizes. He composes his features, glancing neutrally down at the report in his hands. His writing is neat, thorough… and carefully objective.

"She has no more violent a nature than most adventurers, simply trying to make their way in this world," Xan says.

"Is that so? What led you to this evaluation of her?" A wave of a hand. "Point not to her good intentions; they matter little when her actions lead only to bloodshed."

"I can only ask to be believed as one of her earliest and most constant companions," Xan says. "She finds no joy in the path she has been set on, and is as much at the mercy of the coming chaos as we."

"…I see." The words contain a sense of surprise—he was not expected to speak of her this way. "Well, it matters not in the end. She should not be a concern for long. No doubt another of her kin will dispose of her, as she disposed of Sarevok—and so it will go on until this period of chaos, too, is swept behind us."

Dispose of her? Xan's grip on his report weakens; the papers shift, threatening to fall.

"Ah, hold a moment." A shuffling of papers on the desk. "I nearly forgot—there is another assignment for you. You will be traveling to Athkatla. We believe that—"

"I refuse to go." Barely aware that his lips have moved, it takes Xan a moment to realize that the words were his—and that he is now being stared at.

"Ahem—well, let me first describe it to you in full. I know you may not think yourself qualified, but I assure you, you are—"

"I resign."

—

"You seem to contemplate your moonblade more often these days," Radri says.

Xan looks abruptly up from the exposed flames of the moonblade, and sheathes it quickly before she can see much of it. Letting the door to their room close behind her, Radri joins him by the window, noting upon her approach the way that he casts his gaze upon the windowpanes—quiet, and subdued. This alone is not unlike him, but his grip on the moonblade's hilt is tight, and as she'd said, she's noticed him watching its flames frequently ever since their reunion.

"Is something… wrong?" Radri asks.

Xan pauses, a breath held, before sighing and meeting her eye.

"I can hide nothing from you, can I?" Xan says.

Xan turns away from the window, the sunlight upon him shifting away from his profile and falling into bright lines upon his shoulders, instead. His hand is still on the moonblade's hilt, his thumb beside the gem on its pommel. Radri recalls that despite the lack of light in Mulahey's lair, the moonblade's gems had displayed brilliant flashes of color when she opened the chest it had been held captive in… but now, they appear dull and ordinary.

"I was going to wait until I was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I think I am only deluding myself to hope otherwise now," Xan says. "My moonblade's flames have dimmed."

What?

"It—it isn't dying, is it?" Radri asks, despite feeling that her guess is unlikely; she fears that any other explanation would mean worse.

Xan casts his gaze down towards the dusty floor between them, pausing to consider his next words.

"As I think I mentioned once, this blade will outlive you and I for a long time yet," Xan begins. "No, it is something else. I thought at first that it was scolding me for failing to protect you from Irenicus… but those were my own feelings. Unfortunately, I suspect it is displeased with my departure from Evereska and the Greycloaks."

"Why?" Radri asks. "You haven't abandoned your duties. Like with the child, in the Temple District—you didn't need to be a Greycloak to help her."

"The moonblade's judgment is not a system of points and tallies, Estel'amin," Xan says. "If I commit senseless murder one day, but then save a life the next, do you think my moonblade would consider my transgression forgiven?"

"You know what I mean," Radri says. "You're still Xan, after everything. Your heart hasn't changed."

His gaze rises to meet hers with a solemn look.

"Hasn't it?" Xan asks.

His eyes are patient, waiting for her at his guidance's conclusion—and when she finds it, her brows flinch upwards in hurt.

"Me? But I…" Radri says, her gaze flicking down to the moonblade before returning to his eyes, "It only sees me as a Bhaalspawn?"

"I cannot say for certain how it sees you," Xan says, "But it understands what I am willing to do for you."

"What… What you're willing to…" Radri says, feeling faint, imagining what he would possibly need to do to draw the moonblade's ire, "No, you wouldn't do anything like that."

"How can we know? It is said that a man does not know his true limits until he is pushed to the brink of desperation," Xan says, and sighs. "Besides, I cannot be sure that the journey ahead will afford me the luxury of choice. Who can say what your fate will drive us to? Will there always be a better option? If presented with two evils, my death is certain, no matter which I choose."

"But—wouldn't the moonblade recognize that you're in a difficult situation, and be merciful?" Radri asks.

"I do not think it possible," Xan says. "Because as long as I am with you, there is a third choice: abandoning you. As I refuse to do so, I can only bear the consequences."

Consequences. Death. She knew the moonblade could kill him, but had never considered it a possibility—despite all his self-deprecating comments, Xan has always struck her as a steadfast and competent wielder. To think that she might be what changes that….

"Despite everything, we are, in a way, fortunate," Xan says, his voice filtering back into her awareness. "We have the courtesy of a gentle warning. It could have given no indication until the day it killed me, instead."

His tone is light—for him—and while his words are spoken almost sarcastically, she gets the sense that he's trying to reassure her.

"Is there nothing I can do?" Radri asks, feeling even as the words leave her that she already knows what his answer will be. Xan's resigned nonchalance fades, leaving only sadness in its place.

"There is nothing for you to do. It is my choice."

She should nod, she thinks; she should accept this as solemnly as he has, and exit without worrying him. But an unmistakable feeling of dread has already begun to burrow into her chest, and though she can duck her head, she cannot raise it. Cut off in her field of vision, Xan moves towards her, his hand reaching out.

"Radri…"

"No," Radri says, a distant part of her hating her failure to bite back her words, "No, it's fine. Khalid is dead, Imoen is gone, Jaheira is cursed, and now you are too."

With a forced, bitter smile, she turns on her heel and escapes the room before she can cry in front of him.

—

"You are still awake," Xan says, surprise apparent on his face. The small flame in his hand flickers as he slips into their room, night having long fallen outside.

"Just thinking," Radri says, though to tell the truth, her past few hours have been spent staring quietly out of the window with her journal untouched by her side. Pushing herself off the bed, she snags the candle from the side table, and meets Xan where he stands by the door; he lets the flame in his hand die, lighting the candle, instead.

"And you? What keeps you up so late?" Radri asks, recalling the echoes of another night. "No visions, I hope?"

"If only I could say that none remain, save for the one that stands before me," Xan says. "But, no. None that I have not come to expect."

"Deep in study, then?" Radri asks, stepping away to return the candle to the side table.

"One could say that," Xan says, and sighs. "I have been studying the moonblade again."

Radri stills. After she had run out of their last conversation, Xan had not brought it up again—and she, both ashamed of her response and preoccupied with worry for Jaheira's more immediate curse, had not either. In the end, Jaheira's curse had been resolved in a matter of days, but she doubts that Xan is here now to tell her the cure to his.

"…Has it gotten worse?" Radri asks.

"At this point, you would be able to see "worse" without my telling you. No, I have other news," Xan says. "If my moonblade were to attempt to strike me down, there is perhaps a way that I could survive it. I have discovered a way to divert part of the damage, so that it is shared between myself and another."

She blinks.

"You… You can survive it?" Radri asks.

"I may have a chance to," Xan corrects her, but it hardly tempers her response: in an instant, she has him in a tight hug.

"Xan," Radri breathes with relief, "Just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll do it. I have more health, too, I can take more of the damage—"

"Estel'amin," Xan says, his hand cupping her cheek and lifting her gaze to his, "When did I say that you would need to be the one to bear it with me?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Radri says. Xan sighs.

"And to think, I agonized over this to such a late hour," Xan says. "Yes, in the end, you are the only one I can ask. To divert the damage, a connection must be established with the moonblade—not a true connection, only a fraction of one, guided by my hand. Normally, even this would be impossible, as the moonblade will accept ties to none but its wielder… but we are bonded, our spirits intertwined in the Weave. It will know nothing."

Xan separates himself from her gently, taking her hands into his, and looks seriously into her eyes.

"However, I cannot guarantee that this will work as I have planned," Xan says. "Even if we are successful today, there is a chance that the moonblade's wrath will be too great for us to bear, and you may very well end up dying alongside me. If you are at all hesitant, we will leave this here, and it will be as if I never spoke."

"I'm certain, Tahlimil. I want this," Radri says.

But at the sound of his name, a strum of uncertainty travels across their bond—when, usually, the emotion that her use of his name elicits from him is affection. Uncertain herself if she had felt that correctly, Radri searches the depths of his eyes—but she finds the same uncertainty there, as well.

"…Are you hesitant?" Radri asks.

Xan's eyes widen, caught—and as his gaze falls from hers, she notices what she had not recognized to be courage in his shoulders, as well.

"How can I not be?" Xan confesses. "The moonblade's consequences should be mine to bear, and mine alone. This is one burden I am not meant to share."

"...Then you don't think this is the right thing to do," Radri says, feeling the beginnings of a dull resignation grow in her heart. But rather than agree with her, the corners of Xan's lips rise in a faint, self-amused smile.

"No, I do. I feel I must have gone mad to think so, but despite everything, I do. It is only that, from this moment forward, all I can do is hope against hope that my choice is understood," Xan says, then his smile fades. "I seem to have found myself experiencing many of these moments, in these past months…."

His last sentence is spoken less to her, and more to himself—and he looks tired again, worn, like he did on the day of their reunion. The urgency of before forgotten, Radri reaches up to brush the shadow of his hair aside from his eyes, and trails the caress to hold the side of his face gently in her palm.

"Sounds exhausting," Radri says, softly. "Will you tell me?"

Xan's gaze rises to meet hers, and free from shadow, a trace of candlelight flickers in his dark eyes.

"Stories for another time," Xan says—and yet, his gaze is tender, and a weight seems to have been lifted, as if another piece of resolve has found its place. He draws her touch to his lips, and kisses her hand briefly, before releasing it back to her.

Unfastening the moonblade from his belt, Xan holds it between them, its grip held loosely in one hand, and its sheath in the other.

"This is your last chance to change your mind," Xan says.

Radri's gaze runs across the moonblade; its brilliant flames are hidden at present, and she has never stared very long into that fire when she had the chance, but she has an imprint of them on her mind's eye—perhaps from Xan's memory.

Radri meets his eye, committed, and Xan inclines his head.

"Then lay your hand over mine," Xan guides. "I will begin."

—

The pillow at the back of her head is firmer than usual. Scrunching her closed eyes further, Radri shifts, trying to ease the stiffness in her neck. She had had the strangest vision: a storm had visited her, and pain had followed, painted in vivid flames…

"Radri?" The word is hushed, relieved—and opening her eyes, Radri finds Xan looking worriedly down at her.

The pillow is him, she thinks, and then, Why am I…?

"You fell unconscious as I finished the spell," Xan explains, upon seeing the slight disorientation in her eyes. "I was barely able to catch you."

The spell—the moonblade. Radri sits up, her eyes finding the moonblade, which lays beside them. She doesn't know what she should expect. The moonblade doesn't look any different, and besides a faint headache that has already subsided, she doesn't feel any different, either.

"Did it work?" Radri asks.

"I believe so, though I hope we will not have to put it to the test," Xan says. "But that is not my concern at the moment. You cried out in pain…"

Xan takes her face into his hands, looking over her with worry—but all she feels now is relief, and she leans affectionately into his touch.

"I'm alright, Xan," Radri says. "In fact, I feel much better."

"Better?" Xan echoes. "You do remember what you have just agreed to?"

"Of course," Radri says, an effortless smile blooming on her face. "You're safe."

"…Safe-er," Xan concedes, though his expression carries all the words he's holding back. She's only secured him a chance; as long as he's tied to the moonblade, he's still doomed.

But at least we're doomed together, Radri thinks. She nestles in against him, floating on the feeling of having been able to do something to help, after all the helplessness of these past few weeks.

"We're really in this together now," Radri murmurs to herself, and sighs. "Almost like we're married."

Her head rests against his shoulder, but instead of accepting her into his embrace as usual, Xan stills, his surprise flitting across their bond.

"Married?"

"Ah—Wait, I meant—" Radri rushes, ready to take back her words, but Xan relaxes, drawing her close and kissing her hair.

"I suppose it is," Xan says. "Right now, your safety is all that matters, but perhaps once Irenicus is taken care of, we will be able to hold the ceremony. During those days we spent on the road, before everything, I imagined it would be a grand event, held in Evereska…"

Xan speaks wistfully, his head leant against hers—but Radri pulls herself away.

"You still want to marry me?" Radri asks, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yes?" Xan says, puzzled by her question—then his expression falls. "Do you… no longer wish to?"

"No," Radri starts, before rushing to clarify, "No, I mean, I do wish to! But, I thought… You know, given…"

"That you cannot enter Evereska? That was just a remnant of a dream; we can be wed anywhere you wish," Xan says.

"No, it's—"

"The size of the ceremony?" Xan asks. "If you desire it, it can simply be the two of us, although I assumed that at the least you would want Imoen present—"

"A Bhaalspawn," Radri forces out before she drowns in his consideration, "How could a Bhaalspawn associate herself with your House?"

She can't face him, but their bond communicates the conflicted emotion she hides on her face to him regardless. The sequence of his response follows: a shard of surprise, then a fierce protectiveness, which becomes a familiar warmth.

"Why should that matter?" Xan says. "My House will soon fall out of memory outside of Evermeet; my siblings have already left in the Retreat."

His touch finds her shoulder, but she does not relax.

"So I will never meet them?" Radri asks. "So you will never see them, ever again? Suppose we survive this, and live long—how will you explain me to them?"

"My life is my own. I will not have them judge me for it," Xan says; though subtle, there is an edge in those words. "Besides… I am not as close with my siblings as you are with Imoen."

"Your other ties, then," Radri says. "You do not think much of them, but you have them—many more than I."

"My other ties are of even less consequence," Xan says, growing serious and concerned now. "Radri… you know I care little for what others think. What is this really about?"

This is about him. This is about how, since the moment she read Gorion's letter, her life has well and truly torn apart at the seams—and how, since their reconciliation in the catacombs, she has not yet seen Xan hesitate to tear his apart to match her. She cannot regret her newly formed connection with the moonblade—not when it can save him, and allow him to stay with her—but she can add it to the cost of their love, and feel its weight press down upon her.

"I don't want you to do this for me," Radri says, her throat growing tight with emotion. "You shouldn't have to do this for me. I am the reviled Bhaalspawn—"

"And I am the moonblade wielder, and yet you now bear part of my burden with me," Xan says. "Would you deny me the same?"

"That's different," she says, "It's my fault to begin with."

"You may as well say that I am at fault, for choosing to follow you," Xan says, "Or Alaundo is at fault for writing his prophecies, or Bhaal is—well, perhaps we can all agree that Bhaal is at fault. Or is it the very nature of our world itself that is at fault?"

She doesn't respond, and in her silence, Xan wraps his arms around her in another embrace. His head rests beside hers, and his voice emerges low, and quiet.

"You wish to spare me, Estel'amin, but I am not content to be spared," Xan says. "Let me bear this with you."

His comfort is tempting, familiar. She had sheltered in it in Candlekeep's catacombs; in Baldur's Gate, when her heritage had become public knowledge; and in this same room, weeks ago, when Xan had found his way back to her and she had cried in his arms, Irenicus' pain still fresh in her mind. She wants to close her eyes and accept it again, but her thoughts run on: How long can this last?

One day, Xan will come to his senses, and he will regret having thrown everything away for her. What awaits her is either his death or his resentment...

...She should just let him go.

A pang shoots through Radri's heart at that thought, and echoes in Xan's. His compassion, his worry, rise in her chest—and enveloped in his warmth, she cannot bring herself to refuse him just yet.

"Okay," she whispers, at last.

"Will you promise it?" Xan asks. "Will you bind us together, as I did?"

There is a twinge of desperation in those words, as though he knows what she had just considered. A weak smile pulls the curve of her mouth upwards, for no one's benefit but her own.

"I'm not the one with the sentient sword," Radri says. "There's no need for binding. Besides, I don't have any spells."

"You do," Xan says. "Your kiss, for one. And I wish to be bound to you—so there is, in fact, a need."

Radri finds the strength to pull away from his embrace to look at him; Xan is determined, and completely serious. The line of her mouth breaks into a wobble.

"You are so…" She doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry; she releases a puff of a breath that could be the precursor to either, "Ridiculous."

The look on Xan's face softens, and in lieu of words he simply closes his eyes, presumably waiting for her binding kiss.

"Xan… really," Radri tries.

But as he waits, and she gazes upon him waiting, a small glimmer of hope emerges in her chest—not that her kiss can be any substitute for a spell, or that she has any ability to bind them together outside of their existing bond, but that she can believe him. Xan has weighed his sacrifices; he knows them better than she. And here, there are no monks, no Phlydia, no Keeper of Tomes, with a thousand words of warning and misplaced compassion that wind through her past to say but one thing: You are more trouble than you are worth.

"I promise to let you bear this with me," Radri says, at last. The words leave her more easily than she had thought—and miraculously, she feels lighter for them. A corner of Xan's lips rises.

"And…?"

Feeling a bit silly, she nevertheless leans in and kisses him lightly on the forehead. When she pulls away, Xan's eyes are open once more, bearing the warmth of candlelight within them as he meets her gaze.

"Thank you, Estel'amin." His love and sincerity wash over her through the bond; she blushes.

"N-Now—shall we go to bed, at last? Or are we going to exchange promises until sunrise?" Radri asks, standing quickly to avoid acknowledging the heat in her face. She holds a hand out to Xan, who gazes up at her with a faint smile upon his lips.

"To bed," Xan confirms, and rises to join her; he kisses her warm cheek.

She sits at the side of the bed, and waits for Xan to retrieve the moonblade and lean it against the side table, as always. When his attention is hers again, he accepts her hand, and the candle is extinguished with a quiet command.

[meowzfordayz]

THIRST TIME WITH V pt2

(Note: I love people that self ship and you’ve inspired this. I also don’t know if you prefer Modern AU or Canon Time-Line so we will do both. I will also be assuming that you or your followers are an anime only bunch so you won’t have to worry about spoilers. Thank you for indulging me so much!)

Sanemi Shinazugawa Headcanons

This man is so THOUGHTFUL! Random (and i mean you will never see them coming) acts of servitude, gifts, and he will NEVER forget a date that is important to you. If he ever did he’d kill himself with guilt. Everyone close to him can see how half of his attitude is faked for his comfort, but only you get to see how thick of a mask that attitude really is. 

He vastly underestimates how capable you are, even after falling in love. This is frustrating and becomes the biggest catalyst to most of your fights. 

You’ve asked to put creams on his scars before and he was quick to refuse. He doesn't need them fading. Doesn't want the reminders of his weakness to ever leave the forefront of his mind. He’s afraid that if he gives into something so mundanely intimate he will become too soft, too comfortable in a quiet existence, to protect you when you most need it.

Late Night rooftop conversations that get so deep and personal you wonder if it’s even the same Hashira you are talking to by the end of it.

You’ve dressed up his crow once or twice and when he found out he got very huffy. You don’t do it anymore out of respect but he secretly wishes you would. He loves to hear the sounds you make when you coo over something you find adorable. 

After you two had officially gotten together (although you were unofficially dedicated to one another for a while due to his lack in range of communication and emotional vulnerability) he talked you into letting him take you somewhere. He was very cryptic about it all, but it was Sanemi your Nemi, you knew you would be safe. Long and sappy story short: It was a special spot high above the coast line where you could watch the sunrise together. He told you he often came here when he was feeling lonely and found that the first morning light reminded him of you.

Modern au

He legit had a heart attack when you first moved in together. You had spent the night in one another’s beds before but this was a brand new experience for him. He would never be more intimate with another being. You were it.

Grumbles incessantly when you invite friends over and hides himself in your shared room. He has no interest in being cordial or getting to know the people you hang out with. He will even do this occasionally when mutual friends like Shinobu.

You sleep with separate blankets now because of how much of a bed hog he can be. He complained about your blanket thievery ONCE and that was all it took for you to come back about how he’s a starfish and maybe the two of you should sleep in separate beds because of how uncomfortable it makes you. Needless to say, he does his best to not “starfish” anymore, but unfortunately he does toss and turn due to his regular night terrors. This is fine by you.

As if he wasn’t a neat freak already… Every few weeks he gets into a weird cleaning mood where he almost turns into a drill sargent with how he involuntarily enlists you into deeply sanitizing your shared living space. He’s given no explanation for this; the house is already clean by most people's standards.

Doesn't like the smell of american sweet or dill pickles.

I know you said that you would push the cart at the grocery, but honestly I think you would come home to find everything already purchased on the regular. Shopping with him is a treat. He says it’s because you push the cart too slow, but honestly it’s because he has the meals already planned out and you like to deviate from his list a little too liberally. You’ll see something and decide that’s what you want for dinner with no regard to your health and he will almost immediately give in to you. He’s tried playing the mean boyfriend and telling you no, but every time you give him those doe eyes… SO he doesn't go shopping with you anymore, for your own good. 

Morning Voice. That’s all I got. You can use your imagination. 

Hii V. ☺️ Your headcanons are AMAZING 😍, but not exactly a writing prompt/thirst (?), so Imma just answer w/ my reactions (unless you hoped I would write something inspired by these headcanons ?? 😅 in that case, just lmk !!).

P.S. Nvm. I wrote a lil drabble: "morning voice". 😏 CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader

Love me a thoughtful man, and Sanemi's def more observant and sweet than meets the eye. 🥺

I LOVE THIS HC SO MUCH !!!!! 😖 Could absolutely see myself getting frustrated/upset due to his lack of trust (at least, that's what constantly being underestimated would eventually feel like to me), but I'm sure we'd slowly and surely communicate through it. 🙃

This made me EMOTIONAL. 😔

Idk whether this was intentional or not, but it reminded me of from dusk till dawn. 🌌

Lololol I generally don't enjoy dressing up animals, BUT this hc is so CUTE. 🤗

"and found that the first morning light reminded him of you" HELLOOO?!?!?! 😭😭😭💘

That first night feeling. 🥺🥰

Lol poor Shinobu (albeit she prob prefers it that way 😂). #grumpy guy

I am both Sanemi and Reader (bed hog AND blanket hog). 🤪 Night terrors detail reminded me of through thick and thin. 😔

I AM A NEAT FREAK. 😤 Ppl would be "scared" to visit us bc we're so high maintenance lmao.

Idk what American sweet is, but I don't like pickles either. 😆

THIS ONE. THIS ONE !!!!! 😌 Man knows me to a T. 😃 I'm a literal child when grocery shopping (altho my self control actually isn't too bad).

"Sanemi," you murmur, a drowsy, welcoming noise to his pink, sunlit ears, "Saaanemi."

A muffled grumble is his only response, a heavy arm slinging over the dip of your side as you giggle quietly.

"Baaabe," you coo, happily snuggling into the comfort of his chest, wispy hairs caressing your cheek as you peer contentedly up at his stubbornly closed eyes, "It's almost noon."

Another grunt prompts louder giggling from you, playful breaths hitching when a calloused, decisive hand slips between your thighs, fingernails digging pointedly into your plush skin.

"Sanemi?" you squeal, legs pressing together, trapping his palm against the heat of your core, "Are you sleepy or horny?"

Your question comes out teasingly, clit tingling from the pressure and weight of his hand, a feathery whimper coaxed from your throat when he pulls at the cotton of your panties.

"What do you think?"

His voice is low and gravelly, a worn and porous pebble turning over and over and over again, gently tossed and glistening by the sea.

"Hm," you grin, feigning ignorance as he tugs at your panties, head disappearing under the covers as he follows them from your hips to your ankles, "Sleepy?"

Head emerging from his endeavor, Sanemi rolls his now opened eyes, lips ghosting across your face before settling on your mouth, kissing with firm, languid tenderness.

"You're stupid," he rasps, fingers dipping once more between your thighs, this time stroking your folds, swallowing hard at their sticky warmth, "Would I be seducing you if I was sleepy?"

Smirking, you willingly spread your legs, airy and baited as you muse, "Who says I'm being seduced?"

With a displeased growl, he lightly pinches your folds, gaze sharpening promisingly at the faint sound of slick squishing, tongue licking along your jaw as you whine softly.

"Your pussy certainly does," he remarks, blowing on the subtle, shiny trail of his ministrations as he continues licking down your neck, “And your tits.”

He punctuates his statement with a quick flick to your nipple, one thumb circling your clit with practiced ease while the other fondles your breast.

“And you?” you ask, breathless and putty in his embrace, back arching into his touch as your ass grinds backward into his groin, “Are you being seduced?”

Silently, he grabs your wrist, guiding your palm to his crotch, erection straining as your fingertips brush across the tip of his cock, precum leaking through the thin fabric of his briefs.

“Frankly,” he mutters, nearly choking when your hand wanders lower to carefully squeeze his balls, sliding a thick, warning finger into your fluttering cunt, moaning in tandem at the fullness, “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

[liannelara-dracula]

Hi, can we have the diaboy's handwriting?

Hi Love,

Totally, this sounds so cool. For more explanation of if cursive is old or not you can refer to the comments.☺️😊

-Liannelara

P.S. For fun here is admins hand writing

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

Warning:

*certain words have been/may be censored for Tumblr guidelines.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The Diaboys Handwriting hcs

Sakamaki

Shu

Fancy and kinda dark academia aesthetic but is definitely not readable to most of us.

It's in cursive of course cause he's archaic.

And he's pretty lazy, he like barely holds his pen.

He mostly writes in Latin that way none of his brothers understand but sometimes he writes in his demon language.

Although with all the tech now he literally does the voice audio type or anything he needs to write down.

It's so rare to see this lazy ass with a pencil in his hand lol.

Reiji

Its crazy but in cursive it is beautiful, like great penmanship.

But in print, Reiji shows a completely different side of himself.

He never writes in print because he finds that people may think he's vulnerable.

Reiji only writes his most personal thoughts in print and its because he never shares with anyone and can't be himself except for on paper.

So only sadness and angry are written in print.

It is canon that he once held a diary when he was younger so it wouldn't be surprising if he writes his feelings in print. I mean he's stressed.

If he had a lover he writes in print because he wants her to know this side.

Cursive is what he uses when he's doing chemistry or a grocery list.

Laito

The left is how he writes in his demon language its more secretive and mysterious. He hardly uses it tbh.

The writing on the right is usual, normal print/cursive writing.

It's not super fancy or plain.

It is plain but with a little flare.

His writing is pretty neat and clean.

Although he doesn't write a lot he does like to write about his sexual escapades.

Kanato

He alternates between the two.

The left is when he is more focused and maybe upset. But not mad.

If he was mad, he'd write everything in caps.

Although the right is when he is calm since it's cursive.

He uses both interchangeably tho.

What's actually nice about his handwriting is not that it's simple or because it's bold or small. It's what Kanato writes.

I seriously think he writes poems and he is really good at it.

I mean any girl could fall in love with how this man writes, especially if he writes about you.

And he has such a nice voice when he talks about his lover/love interest.

Ayato

It's a mess, he prefers to type.

He makes spelling and grammar mistakes all the time but he uses a pen.

He literally cannot read his writing sometimes and asks Reiji if he knows and his brother just gets really mad at him.

He crosses out so much stuff.

And he writes in any spot.

He doesn't stay on the line, the letters are everywhere.

It's super plain and he never writes in cursive because he literally does know what is the top or bottom of the paper after writing it.

Subaru

Very messy and always in ink.

There are so many scribbles and ink smudges.

He always writes in print because his cursive is unreadable.

He doesn't stay on the lines, his writing moves up and down.

It's very careless and free.

He writes very big.

And has a hard time reading his handwriting sometimes.

Kino

Different and kinda neat but has a lot of crossed-out parts.

Sometimes capitalizes things for no reason.

He can write in cursive but wouldn't choose to.

Although his writing style is unique considering the font.

He is also part of the ink-only squad.

He also likes to abbreviate a lot of stuff.

Is able to keep his writing in a steady line for the most part.

Mukami

Ruki

If he's presenting it's neat, if its for his own things its sloppier.

But still, no soul has ever been able to read it.

He does it on purpose.

Kou has always wondered what it says but he's never been able to tell if it's even in English or in the demon language. Like he has no clue.

Ruki does this in case something thinks about snooping.

He probably does write in his free time, and honestly, he writes a lot. I bet he has so many journals that are filled over the years about his life as a vampire.

So it's hundreds of years of the world all in these books of his.

It's honestly fascinating but no one can read them.

Though if he had a lover he may open up to them about it and share what is in there.

But he might be a tease and lie about what's in there to get her to laugh and throw a pillow at her.

Kou

Okay now although the content at the end of this letter (left) is yandere that's not the point.

I seriously feel he writes in a bunch of fonts and caps/lowercase just cause he's everywhere.

And this is usually how he writes to his fans because they think it "cute"

The right shows his usual handwriting tbh.

It takes a second or two to understand.

But it's not too bad.

He hardly uses his handwriting for anything tho.

Puts hearts on "I"s

Yuma

Messy, always messy.

He is just so sloppy.

You'd think that because he has good hands in a garden he'd have nice handwriting, but you're wrong.

He connects letters with each other, and he has spaces, eraser smudges, and even crossed-out words.

Although his paper is not clean and you can read the writing, well for the most part.

He does have a nice signature though.

Azusa

He has really neat handwriting.

Like it's easy to read, it's neat, and it's not super big.

But there's only one problem.

His papers are always ripped or crumbled, torn, worn out, or have watermarks.

Like there isn't one time where the paper is nice.

He seems like he doesn't know how to do cursive or rather he forgets.

He probably writes relatively small.

Tsukinami

Carla

Fancy cursive and then regular cursive.

He's never used print in his entire 3,000+ years lol.

If he is writing a very formal letter to someone important he uses the writing on the left.

If he is writing for himself or to his brother he uses the writing on the right.

Either way, no one can deny that he has good penmanship.

His signature is also really elegant.

He has his own signature style in cursive.

Something most cannot do.

Shin

Like his brother it is in cursive and very fancy.

The left is how he writes in a more formal setting because it is easier to read.

He always writes really neatly surprisingly, it's the founder prince in him.

It's always in a steady line too, you'd think he'd measure where he wanted to put the handwriting.

The right is his more loose and less legible writing. He uses this if his letter is informal and it is to someone he is comfortable with or has known for a while.

He doesn't really write in print unless its for school and he wants to blend in.

Because he's supposed to be a British exchange student it doesn't surprise me if most of his notes are in shorthand.

I think once he learned that no one uses cursive he decided to not use it that much and stuck to print.

Which probably looks something like this.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~Present

[bleachbleachbleach]

[Bleach 072]

This scene is important to me for the express reason that Hitsugaya was apparently the one to tell Jidanbou about these rules. Because they are friends! We know this not from any in-story interactions but from one line in Hitsugaya's Souls profile:

[Souls 133]

I'll be honest with you, I've never actually read Souls and have never thought about where it ties to canon temporally, but the answer to that is apparently sometime before Hitsugaya confronts Ichimaru.

This amuses me because at this point we know all of five things about this guy, and one of the five is that he's friends with Jidanbou. We don't even know the name of his Zanpakutou (that's the "?" in his stats profile box), but we know he's FRIENDS WITH JIDANBOU.

I don't have the English version of this page, apologies, but basically it's just like, Hitsugaya is a shinigami who comes from Rukongai, he's the youngest Captain in history, and he's currently investigating the Rukia business and trying to bring Ichimaru's shit to light. By the way, he's friends with Jidanbou and taught him the "Rules of the City." (Then the bottom sidebar is about how Hitsugaya treats Hinamori like blood, and wants to protect her.)

Which honestly makes this Jidanbou connection even funnier because Hinamori, the reason Hitsugaya is even in this story and the only reason we know this much about him (through Hinamori's Academy flashback), gets a neat sidebar, but the line about Jidanbou is just thrown in at the end of the main narrative like, beeeeee-tee-dubs!!

I've always wanted to write fanfic about this, but I haven't yet come up with a premise that was actually interesting to me. I assume they get paired up in this way for the size kink, though internal to the narrative that only gets us so far. After that it's like, okay, they're both associated with West Rukongai, so there's that. They're probably both socially ostracized: According to himself, people in Junrinan find Hitsugaya off-putting because of his white hair and his, well, off-putting demeanor; people probably make fun of Jidanbou because he's enormous and speaks with a lisp (though this doesn't carry into the Viz)/doesn't come across as normatively cognitively developed. But I'm kinda like, okay, sure, whatever. The most interesting part about that for me is still that Hitsugaya has a casual friend at all, because what few relationships we do see are extremely not casual. But also BTW Jidanbou!

I still think my favorite version of this relationship is the one where, while Hinamori's been off at school, Hitsugaya casually mentions to her that he's friends with Jidanbou the Gate Guardian, with absolutely zero explanation, as a child might about a brand new ride-or-die friend, as though this were completely normal and natural for him, and that's all that's ever said about it. Hitsugaya is definitely someone who has a mental white paper for anything he's ever done, which is why I find the contrast/discrepancy so appealing.

If my life depended on writing Hitsugaya Jidanbou friendship, though, I'd probably start with the City Rules. Because:

Jidanbou has been guarding this gate for 300 years. We don't know how long Hitsugaya has been living in Junrinan, but we do know he would not have had first-hand experience with any City Rules more than ~35 years ago. Not that you need to go to the city to know the rules, but I think canon Hitsugaya establishes pretty well that he doesn't talk about things he's not interested in or things that he doesn't have personal verified knowledge of. So for the first 265 years, no one bothered telling Jidanbou very much about this place he was guarding (not even his brother). He's a utility, and one that lives outside the gates (FUGAIKUUUU)--also one that's not perceived as smart enough for that information to be meaningful. But that whole vibe is not really Hitsugaya's style, because he loves an infodump--but also because he has a bone to pick with the notion of instrumentality.

If we're making a point of saying that Hitsugaya taught Jidanbou the "Rules of the City" (in quotation marks), we're introducing an interlocutor's specific POV. I'm not saying Hitsugaya's just making shit up for the hell of it, but how important these rules are, why these would be the top 3, what their original contexts were vs. being pulled out like this, and what's a literal municipal code vs. a social more vs. just something Hitsugaya has personal commentary about, are up in the air. What I'm saying is, I feel like these have "a gigai is for eating beans" energy.

At minimum, I enjoy this because this is all information that is completely incidental not only to the main storyline but ALSO to the Detective Hitsugaya B-side. But I love that Bleach is consistently so, so interesting about all these characters and their POVs and the rules that do or don't exist in the world, particularly at these early junctures, where most of what we've heard about Soul Society is from Rukia, and a lot of it we've already seen contradicted; and we'll continue to as the arc unfolds. Who even NEEDS Kyouka Suigetsu??

[gaysindistress]

Here’s another list of thing that I think are canon for our lover boy Bucky and no one can convince me of otherwise.

list one

1. Bucky has complicated feelings about wanting a family.

In the 40s, he would’ve said yes in a heartbeat because that’s what was expected of him and look at him. Who wouldn’t want him as the dutiful husband and involved father of your children?

But then the war and HYDRA happened and he told himself no. Never would he have a relationship, a marriage, or a family. He had Steve and Sam (even if he didn’t want to admit the last one). He would be fine without any of that.

Things became even more complicated when Steve fucked off back to the 40s and chose Peggy. Bucky always had feelings he knew weren’t normal for his best friend but he couldn’t address them. He had more pressing matters than to figure out if he loved his best friend or loved his best friend. Deep down he wanted Steve to be more than just his family. He wanted Steve to build their family with him but when he left without so much as a good explanation, it crushed him.

Sam stepped up and showed him what found family meant, showing Bucky that family didn’t have to be born. We can choose who we love and call our family. Being so quickly accepted by Sam’s family meant the world to him because it meant that they wanted to be around him. They wanted to get to know him and to care for him. It wasn’t out of duty, honor, pride, or any of that other bullshit. It was out a desire to care for and love Bucky as he was.

Finding his family in Sam felt like that one Hozier song:

I got some colour back, she thinks so too

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you

Except Bucky knows that Sam cannot replace Steve not does he want that. He wants a fresh start and that’s what he got.

Now…. when he meets you?

All bets are off. This man sees you hanging out and bonding with Sam’s nephews as if they’re your own, and he’s weak in the knees. You help Sarah with something in the kitchen? Bucky needs a minute to recalibrate his brain. You flick shit at Sam? Bucky is smiling but also dying on the inside because his heart is beating so fast and he can’t get it under control.

But the moment he sees you gently rocking a baby to sleep, he’s about to drop onto one knee and ask you to marry him. You’re talking to Sarah and someone had passed off this crying child to you so you zip them into your coat and start swaying to get them to calm down. You’re patting their back in slow rhythmic motions, much the same way you do to Bucky when he’s feeling anxious or has a nightmare. Sarah doesn’t bat an eye because she has two kids of her own and you two carry on your conversation. When Sam and him walk over, he literally stops dead in his tracks and gasps. Sam goes to give him shit but he follows his eye-line to you and makes a point to get your attention. You turn around ever so slightly and that’s it. Bucky is a puddle on the ground at the sight of you with a fast asleep baby wrapped in your coat.

2. He is actually a diva when it comes to the closet and your clothes.

He has a system okay? Shirts, jackets, sweaters, and sweatshirts all get hung up. Undershirts and pants are folded while his underwear and socks are rolled into neat little sausages so they can be put into a drawer. His shoes go under where his clothes are hung up and whenever he hangs up his clothes, they all get turned right side out so he can see what they are when he’s flipping through them.

You on the other hand are a savage and shove whatever fits into the drawer. Yes of course, socks and underthings go in one, shirts in another with bottoms in the last drawer but there’s no order. It’s all chaos and on more than one occasion, he has made you sit down and reorganize everything. Your clothes are going to look the way his do and he will do your laundry for you if that means it stays that way.

Although when you move in together, it’s gets significantly better because he’s the one doing laundry so he has complete control over it.

3. Mexican food is his shit.

Mexican food didn’t become mainstream outside of South Western America until after he was taken by HYDRA so it’s unlikely that he’s ever had it prior to TFATWS.

He and Sam needed to go to San Diego for some Captain America thing and you went with them. You were craving some legit tacos after being on the East Coast for too long. There are obviously good taquerias and even Mexican restaurants in general in Washington D.C. but those places don’t compare to California’s Mexican food.

(This part is based entirely on my own experiences) Once you’ve had food from the taquerias that sit in parking lots, nothing can compare to the thrill of ordering and being able to taste how fresh it is. The pickled carrots and jalapeños are so crisp. The radishes taste like the pico de gallo because they used the same knife to cut it and your sauce levels are white people, normal, and abuelita.

Anyways you drag them along and Bucky is making comments about how you’ve lost your mind because “this is parking lot to an empty store. There’s not going to be food here.” Sam is snickering in the back seat because he knows what’s up and he helped pick the place.

Bucky doesn’t want to get out of the car at first but when you hop out, he’s swinging that door open and trailing after you. There ain’t no way in hell he’s letting you walk up to this food truck but yourself. He’s also completely taken aback by the fact that you order what he thinks is enough food for ten people and not three. You send a quick smile to him over your shoulder and thank the people as you start passing food off to him and Sam. When you all sit down at the wooden picnic table that’s sitting off to the side of the taqueria, you explain what everything is and even tell Bucky what order he should eat.

After that, he’s practically begging you to take him back so you can get some of the “best damn food he’s had in a long time.”

[ennard-is-near]

...got any recs for your answer to 17(underutilized fanfic tropes- ur answer was unhinged Michael & time travel) i have found myself with the desperate need to read these fics

Sure! First, here’s a list of the ones I’m about the explain with just a short summary if you’d prefer to go in to them without any spoilers. I didn’t go too in-depth for any of my explanations, but if you’d rather just stick to the one sentence summaries, here they are:

“Michael is Missing” by Starwrighter- Michael wakes up after the FNaF 6 fire and immediately runs away from home (Unfinished)

“Brother of Mine” by GardenOfManEatingPlants- Elizabeth notices that Michael is being weird, and their father is dead (Finished-Published as 3 short one shots instead of one long thing)

“His Empire of Dirt” by pearlandpine- Michael is sent to William’s childhood so he can try and stop the problem at its source. (Finished)

“The Zion Curtain” by Ekat - Michael and Henry BOTH go back to the past and are determined to stop William in their own special way. (Finished)

“Call Them Brothers” by OmnipotentToast- Michael is stuck in a Groundhog Day style timeloop the day of The Bite of ‘83 and trying really hard not to let anything go wrong. (Unfinished)

“Michael is Missing” by Starwrighter:

This is the one where he just leaves without packing or anything. Bro just walks out of Hurricane at like seven years old. It’s split between him walking around and trying to function as a stray child just out and about, and people looking for him. Also there’s a sprinkle of a trait I don’t see enough in depictions of Michael where, and I mean this in the kindest was possible, he’s not very smart. But I also sort of like the way where he’s an unreliable narrator sometimes. Ngl sometimes I can’t tell how much of it is just the author not doing a very good job keeping things straight, but sometimes moments have to be intentional and they’re really funky (/pos).

This one isn’t for you if you don’t want to read about a pretty young kid (even if it is just Michael lol) running away, sleeping outside and hurting himself accidentally kind of a lot. There’s also some stuff from the other Afton’s POV so if you aren’t in the mood to read people sad bc a kid went missing, that’s in here too. Also this author claims to be re-writing this, but I don’t know if they’re ever going to come back, so that’s something to be aware of.

“Brother of Mine” by GardenOfManEatingPlants

This is the other one I mentioned in my answer to the ask. It’s got two things, Obvious Michael time-travel but it’s not from his perspective (It’s from a split perspective, basically everyone has a chapter except for him) and also Michael immediately shoots William the second he realizes he’s in the past. The title is actually from the first part of the series, but each part is just one chapter. I think it’s a pretty neat idea and well executed. Poor Henry lol.

CWs are pretty light for this one. There’s guns and murder, and a framed-suicide but all of it is implied.

(I’m going to be so real with you, I lost my mind trying to find this one. I found one with a very similar summary and just assumed that it was this one, and wrote a whole thing thinking it was actually this one and that would have been the end of it if my list didn’t have to be a prime number and when searching for one more I found this original one. The other one was called “A strange passage of change” in case you want to see what it’s about, I didn’t finish it so I’m not formally recommending it, just letting you know.)

“His Empire of Dirt” by pearlandpine

You’ve probably heard this one recommended at some point but it ruined my life so I’m recommending it too. In this one, Michael is sent back in time to talk to child William Afton, but then he also hangs out with and befriends college-age William, both in an attempt to make things better before he even has the chance to to become the guy capable of murder (a difficult task). NGL this one goes off the rails a little bit and there’s some universe hopping and really funky time-travel stuff where he does it multiple times, but if you can look past that (and the imo kind of silly way he actually does the time traveling) then it’s a really cool take on William, Henry, Mrs. Afton and Mrs. Emily (Named Clara and Isabella in the fic) and Michael. That’s all I have to say, I know I did a bad job hyping it but genuinely it’s a really good time.

There’s a pretty extensive list of CWs for the fic, but the main ones are all centered around every character having horrible mental health. Trauma and guilt and just good ol’ mental illness (which is technically unspecified for a while but I don’t feel bad telling you that it’s diagnosed as BPD). Also, this one is really long and if you’re not looking for a 69-part (seriously) epic then you probably won’t enjoy this absolute novel of a fic.

(Also, this author in particular has some other AUs that I really enjoyed but there is a fully established multiverse going on in here. “His Empire of Dirt” is mostly [except for one chapter] self-contained but there’s other works that get wayyyyy more in to it. I honestly won’t say too much more because it’s easier for you to just go on a journey of your own through this author’s AUs that weave together with this one. If a FNaF multiverse sounds intriguing to you, definitely go check them out!)

“The Zion Curtain” by Ekat

No idea why it’s called that. But this one is silly and fun. I like that Michael and Henry are together on this one, it’s fun when they team up. Michael is having so much fun just pissing off William and Henry is actually the one taking the situation more seriously most of the time. But they’re both fun and they’ve got a silly dynamic. Not a whole lot else for me to say about this one without crazy spoilers, it’s a fun time. Short/Medium length (~15,000 words) and complete, so that’s always nice

There’s a fair bit of drinking and a fair bit of William Afton being not a great dad. Also murder.

“Call Them Brothers” by OmnipotentToast

This one is a little different but I’m stretched a little thin on “Unconventional Time Travel Fix-It’s” so I’ll count a time-loop as one. It’s exactly what it sounds like. Michael wakes up the day after The Bite of ‘83 and has to do the whole day over again until nobody gets hurt or dies or anything but it’s sort of impossible. This one is unfinished, but I think there’s still hope of this one being finished, it’s been updated since I first read it so that’s a good sign. This is also the shortest one, at only a planned five chapters with four being done.

CWs mostly just revolve around The Bite of ‘83 for this one. Blood, death, mutilation and hospitalization. There’s some other stuff on a chapter by chapter basis but the author does a good job putting specific warnings for each chapter.

[sholangagaga]

So I finished Ruin and. . . Hoh boy.

Per usual, everything will be below the cut (THERE WILL BE SPOILERS)

The dlc was short but it was super immersive! I was at the point where I was easily losing track of time because I was so lost in the scenery but, we're gonna go in order here of everything that happened!

First, the walkie talkies!! They're so cute, and I love how each one is related to an animatronic (or at least two of them with the Roxy Walky and the Freddy Walky)

Next, the Faz-wrench was such a neat little addition to the mechanics. It gave Cassie her own thing compared to Gregory and it tied into her background of her father being a technician. Plus, the mini game associated with it was super soothing to me for some reason!

The VANNI system and mask was also a SUPER neat touch. It felt like playing Help Wanted with the AR and electronic aspect. I loved how you had little tasks to complete to "breach the security" of each little area which ended in the Parent Node having its own little puzzle to solve in order to full breach it. Not to mention the goddamn Entity who stalked you in the AR world

A little sus that the mask was tied to Vanny, which makes me wonder if the game in Help Wanted was VR but instead of like an occulus or whatever, the item you needed to use was the VANNI mask. It would make sense considering the mask was one of the items you got in Help Wanted and it was the game that "made" Vanny herself

I wish the mask was explained more but I still understood why they didnt focus too hard on it. Maybe in the next DLC/game we'll get an explanation

The Daycare scene was just as jarring as the original game! I both hated and loved it! I did find it super interesting how this time instead of trying to turn on the generators to stop Moon, you needed to turn them on to save Sun.

When Cassie used the Faz-wrench to "create" Eclipse I was pretty flabbergasted! there was a setting, apparently, at all times to combine Sun and Moon to create what looked to be the perfect Daycare Attendant. Which confused me as to why Fazbear Entertainment would risk ever letting Moon out if they could have just gotten rid of him completely?

And it was apparent that Sun and Moon were both suffering, but Sun was more so since he seems to be the dominant personality. The way he begs for help and even thanks Cassie as she leaves is tell-tale that he was having a horrible time being alone and trapped within his own mind.

Oh well, Eclipse is my baby and Kellen's soft voice for him was wonderful!

The part with the walking Endos was awful! Just like in the original game! I'm not even gonna bother posting screenshots of them! I hated them!

The nod to the Freddy and Friends TV show was super cute, I loved it!

Monty's backstory in the Monty Golf was an eye opener as well. You see Monty's roots in the first scene as a One Man Band, playing in his swamp/bayou to whomever will listen.

In the second scene you can see his admiration towards the original band of Freddy, Chica, Roxy, and Bonnie. Notably, Monty and Bonnie seem to be looking at each other, which makes me feel like Monty was more so admiring Bonnie rather than the entire band or even Freddy. Freddy is also completely darkened/outside of the light. Which matches what we know about Monty and his inferiority complex towards Freddy and his fame as the face of FazEnt and the Pizzaplex.

In the next scene, you see Bonnie (partially cut off) giving his guitar to Monty, a passing of the torch. The final scene is Roxy "glamming" Monty up for his spot on the band

Now, this all sorta flips what we know about Monty and Bonnie's relationship on its head. In the prior game it's hinted that Monty might have shattered Bonnie in order to take his spot because he was jealous of him or hated him or whatever but. . .If that were the case, why would Monty use Bonnie's bass and wear his glasses? If he hated the guy so much, why use his items and therefor constantly be reminded of him? And why would his attraction in Monty Golf revolve around his admiration for Bonnie if the feelings he had for him were the complete opposite?

I think Monty and Bonnie were fine with each other, or at least friendly in a mentor/student way, and Bonnie being shattered was either something William/Glitchtrap/Burntrap and Vannie facilitated or could have been something where Bonnie fell from the catwalk above Monty Golf and got shattered that way.

Monty seems to hate Freddy more than anything or anyone else, judging by the decapitated Freddy statues in Monty Golf and his cutout being blacked out. and it would fit with that one ending where Freddy ran away and Monty took his place. Idk man, my brain was SWIRLING over this

Plus that whole scene/puzzle in Monty Golf catwalk was both annoying and fun with the blasters. Hate/loved it!

The addition of the jammers was a neat little touch too. It made the game more difficult while also giving you a reason to actually perceive the Entity as a threat (since sometimes the jammers locked you in the AR mode, which is the only way the Entity can catch you)

C....chowda....

Is it Chicken chowder? Seafood? it's even served in a bread bowl and I....I love breadbowls....so much.....

Poor Roxy, man.... She can't see anymore, but she still sits in front of the broken mirror in her Salon and berates herself.....

They're echoing each other.....

This is pretty heartbreaking.

Here's Cassie, presumably on a birthday or some outting to the Pizzaplex, spending time with her favorite animatronic and getting dolled up to look like her, only to end up sobbing all alone and ruining her makeup. And then here's Gregory to comfort her, implying this might've been when they first became friends.

And it explains why Cassie cares so much about him. Gregory helped her when she needed it, and now she's here to do the same

Every single part with Monty in the water was anxiety inducing and I hated it!

Oh. . .what cruel irony. . .

The one to decommission Monty was a neon sign of Bonnie, who was (presumably) either shattered by Monty or because of Monty, and was Monty's biggest inspiration and the object of his adoration. . .

Owch. . .

I was not expecting this fucking go-kart to kill if it hit you so imagine my surprise when I see this cutscene and my brain hasn't registered my flight response so I end up getting knocked out of my fucking sketchers by some kart going 30 on a small stretch of asphalt.

1/2

[cupidscatcafe]

Guys I finally got to see Inside Out 2 and omg do I need to rant

Inside Out is my current hyperfixation and I’m so happy I got to have it right when the second movie came out

So here’s everything I wanted to talk about from my first viewing of Inside Out 2 (Spoilers, obviously)

I’ve placed these in (rough) chronological order

1. Getting to see the emotions room! So, I actually missed the first few minutes because we accidentally bought 3D tickets instead of normal ones so we got the times mixed up. But! I got to see the Demo Day scene on YouTube and OMG THEIR ROOM⁉️ ITS SO CUTE 😭 THE BUNKBEDS, JOY AND FEAR HAVING STARS ON THEIR WALLS, AND ANGER HAVING THE WINDOW THINGY ON HIS 🥺

2. The emotions bed clothes! Omg I would kill for Joy’s pjs! They’re so cute and they definitely made a great decision with the design! I would have never thought of Sadness in a robe but omg does she look adorable! Fear and his plushie are actually like the cutest thing ever aND DISGUST⁉️ SHES SO PRETTY OMG 😭 Not much to say for Anger just cuz I feel like people would of kinda expected that to be his bed clothes 😭

3. “Who are you people?” I just kinda think the line delivery was neat :3 also the way Disgust puts herself between the construction people and Sadness to, like, protect her, its just so cute 😭

4. Ennui and her phone I know people don’t really like her that much but I did! I like how she had an app that she could control the console from but where did she even get it from? 😭 Did someone make that just for her or did she just “spawn” with it? 😭

5. “You can’t bottle us up!” The fact Joy gave them that idea and the way Embarrassment poked holes in the jar for them like they’re little rats you’d find in your kitchen 😭 I guess that is kind of what they were to the new emotions but I love how they literally bottled up emotions

6. Lance struggling to walk through the door I just thought it was funny he kept walking into the wall and it took a few tries for him to get through the door 😭

7. Disgust willingly sitting on a slice of pizza Do you know how greasy and gross pizza is 😭? She was hesitant to stand on broccoli but she was fully willing to sit in grease 😭 I just feel like that’s something she would never do 😭

8. The climb up the recall tube Just the way that Sadness was the last option 😭 Fear and Anger werent even an option to Joy, her first choice was Disgust and the only reason she didn’t do it was because she didn’t want to get her dress dirty 😭 Sadness was the only one left so she had too 😭

9. Sar-chasm Really no explanation, the joke is just funny imo

10. Joys “OF COURSE IM DELUSIONAL” It’s been stuck in my head since I first saw a clip of that on Tik Tok and it seriously plays in my mind over and over 😭 I also think it gives us a better idea of what goes on in her head and I really appreciate it 🙏

11. Pillow fort Joy being asked if she was drawing a hippo when she was drawing Riley and her hockey team, Disgust using Anger as a clipboard, Anger drawing Riley giving flowers to the other team, no one standing with Joy when she asked who was on her side, that one person who drew a cat, I just love the scene all together 😭

12. Brainstrom It rains light bulbs ☹️ /pos

13. “Grab an idea” The way Disgust didn’t even wait for any other order and just jumped off the balloon thousands of feet high in the eye of the storm 😭 She could have tried to catch an idea that came near her but she decided to jump 😭

14. Fears parachute He definitely has other safety equipment on his person and I need to know what else he has 🙏 he probably wears knee/elbow pads under his clothes or something 😭

15. Riley dying her hair She used that cherry koolaid thingy to dye her hair in the bathroom and omg that’s so real 😭 I, personally, used to use chalk though 😔

16. Anxiety During the panic attack scene where shes moving so quickly that it looks like she isn’t moving at all 😭 The small flickers were so cool 🙏 I love her design ngl, like shes so ugly shes cute, her character is honestly just so relatable, I love her sm ☹️

17. Riley’s hair Idrk what to say here, I just like her hair and the way it looks damp after her panic attack is just some cool animation 😭

18. Nastolga I just think the joke of her coming to hq when its not her time is funny 😭 She seems like such a cool character and if theres a 3rd movie I would love to see more of her!

19. Anxiety’s Chair I just think it’s really cute that they gave her a massage chair, it looks so relaxing 😭

20. Disgust constantly cleaning her dress She’s just so real for that

21. The animation OMG THE ANIMATION WAS SO PRETTY 😭 The glitter in the emotions hair, Disgust’s run cycle was seriously adorable, Joy and Disgust’s facial expressions (I was really only watching them because they’re my favourites ngl), the different styles for Lance and Bloofy/Pouchie (+ how excited Joy is when meeting Bloofy), Joy’s glow staying (I seriously expected them to forget about it) the way the wind affects their hair, it’s just all so beautiful 😭

I might get to watch it again this week so if I notice/remember anything else I’ll add to the list 🥺

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

My two cents & thoughts on Beacon dot TV (new ! From Critical Role !)

The announcement is here, the explanations are here, and the FAQ on the Beacon.tv site is here.

The “Why” part of this service launch is pretty clear and honest : they’re fucking fed up with being demonetized for the very same content they provide on Twitch and Youtube. I laud SO MUCH at : “It's not uncommon for our content to get demonetized because we all have the vocabulary of teenage sailors”. In this house we love and respect Laura Bailey for this – not that the rest of the cast does not use colorful language, and Sam will always be famous for the Pussy joke, but come on ! She basically invented “tits, ass, motherfucking balls”. Also I, of course, understand the need to control the ads being added to their content, and not giving more money to 2 very powerful companies who don’t need more money.

On the content of Beacon.tv, I’m more inconclusive :

I'm very interested in CR cooldown, the exclusive Q&A and AMAs, and the pre-sales.

I don't go often enough on the CR store to find the occasional discounts worth my (eventual) money, but yes, it can be neat on occasion !

The other podcasts content : I SO WISH I had time to listen properly to Midst already, but alas not ; so the other non-CR content is just not a selling point for me.

The immediate VOD is neat, and makes me think that they’re probably working towards being able to broadcast live directly on Beacon in addition to Twitch and Youtube. If that will be the case, huge selling point !

The private Discord… well, that's not the most interesting point for me, but why not ? I always enjoy meeting new people in the CR fandom, and if this is a small community at first, it could be nice. In short, I have mixed feelings about the content.

My biggest problem is that I've always grumbled a lot in my life about the multiplication of platforms over the last 10 years or so, and I'm not going to stop now, just because this service is launched by a group of people I happen to like very much. To be clear, I've always managed to find the big platforms content without paying, or without paying too much and having more than 2 subscriptions. Yes, I’m that cheap. But in that case I don't think that's going to be possible lol. So if I ever pay for Beacon.tv, goodbye Twitch subscription ! At least they didn't made the huge and stupid mistake to put all content behind a paywall.

TL:DR/In conclusion, you bet your ass I'm going to get the 7-day free trial ! It’s free ! And I’m a nosy bitch !! I want to see the new shiny thing ! And after that ? We’ll see.