#//but I made myself write them down anyway!

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 9 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: phew! this took me five million years and a bag of candy to write. remember when I told you to remember the house layout? 😉 Enjoy!

small mention: I absolutely love knowing you all are curious about the next chapter of this series. I appreciate and love all comments I get, and try to keep all my promises I make. but, trust I’m human too and need some away from writing. Though, when rude and harassing words are used in my inbox- the joy of writing this series gets absolutely sucked away. (If I’ve answered your message, this isn’t about your comment 🫶) so, please keep your rude words to yourself or I’ll turn off anonymous inbox messages and block you the next time :)

W/C: 4.016

part eight

"I should've just taken a break to go on vacation."

Lina sighs, poking her salad with her fork, and guiding the mixture of greens and dressing up to her mouth.

"Didn't you take a trip to Paris last international break?"

Luis says, raising a brow at her words. He turns his head towards me, nudging me under the table.

"Can you believe her?" He asks, an exasperated chuckle leaving his lips. It causes me to jolt out of my half-asleep state, my eyes widening in surprise.

"What? Who?" I ask looking around and bring a hand up to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I had rushed out of the house this morning, which meant everyone got the chance to admire my bare skin today.

Well, my stress-induced breakouts were on full display, but having some pimples wasn’t the end of the damn world anyway.

"Are you okay?" Lina joins in, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just dozed off- been sleeping horribly." I reply, eyeing my lunch with a grimace.

"Are those exams still keeping you up?"

"More like waking me up.. Do you know how many nightmares of failing an exam a person can take?” I say, my words coming out harsher and louder than I intended. My eye twitches in irritation, and I give them a crazy look.

"Woah, you have an attitude today.." Luis mutters, shifting away from me.

"Don’t piss her off.." I hear Lina say, nudging Luis.

"Never mind, I'm going back to work." I state, quickly putting my tray of food away and walking out of the cafeteria.

I mutter curses under my breath, trying to look as normal as possible to my coworkers when I pass them in the hallways.

Exam season was practically sucking the life out of me, and the added pressure of the upcoming Champions League home game against Napoli was multiplying the stress.

Thankfully, it was international break, which meant that my normal workload was cut in half. Some players not playing for in the national team had requested leave for vacation, so the training center was pretty quiet and empty today.

I only knew of injured players being here for their scheduled recovery appointments.

I finally get back in my office, sighing in exhaustion when I get to my desk. I plop down, rubbing my face to wake myself up further, before starting to work on some more content.

"Why are you grinning like a creep?"

I turn to Luis, chuckling at his choice of words, and let go of the computer mouse.

"I just got a notification that said I passed my written exam." I beam, giving him a cocky look.

"Really?"

"Yeah, ninety-four percent..” I say, turning my head to look at the editing program. The training video we had just shot halfway edited already.

"You've been snapping at us for no reason, but I guess it was worth it- good job.." He says, shooting me a smile, and leaning in to give me a side hug.

"Yeah, sorry about that.." I apologize, fixing my wrinkled shirt. I move my hand towards the mouse again, cutting off a piece of blurry footage that we couldn’t use.

"It's fine, I guess it's payback for making you do random tasks back when you were a newbie.."

"You know, I haven't forgotten how you made me carry that heavy ass bag every morning..”

"I'm sorry, alright. You should've told me earlier that Ancelotti is basically your uncle."

I grumble at his words, jabbing his ribcage with my elbow, sending him a warning look.

"Stop talking and help me out with this.." I mutter, passing him the mouse.

He winces a little, rubbing his stomach, before snatching the mouse off of me with an attitude.

"Didn't know you were allowed to use your privilege to inflict such violence."

I roll my eyes, focused on the moving images on the computer screen. Starting to unconsciously pick at a fresh scab on my hand. Only noticing the damage I’ve done when I look down to see blood trickling down the back of my hand.

"Shit, made myself bleed.." I say, making Luis glance away from the dual monitors.

"Go to the physiotherapy room. They have a shit ton of bandages and bandaids.” He suggests, his hand going up to fix the curls falling in front of his eyes.

I nod quickly, getting up from my seat and walking out of the small, soundproof meeting room. I close the glass door behind me, hurrying over to the physiotherapy room.

I pass the glass panels facing the multiple pitches outside, the sun had been shining brightly this afternoon. Even though the sun had been setting quite early due to daylight saving time.

I knock twice when I arrive, only opening the door when I hear a loud 'come in' in response.

I clear my throat, realizing how silly it is to get a bandaid for a wound like this, but still walk in.

I'm greeted by the sight of first-team physiotherapist Iván, he smiles when he notices me, waving for me to come inside.

He was one of the nicest people working with me at Real Madrid. It would be especially fun when he would bring in his little two-year-old son with him. I couldn’t count on one hand how many times I had carried the cute boy around the training center in my free time.

"Oh, y/n. What brings you here?" He questions, shoving the white privacy curtain out of the way, only to reveal a shirtless Jude lying on the treatment table, his eyes opening to peer over at me.

The personalized shoulder brace he'd been wearing for the past couple matches, was taken off for obvious reasons, and placed on the other side of the bed.

I look away a moment later, feeling my chest tighten, internally wincing at the thought of Jude having a dislocated shoulder and still playing football. Despite all of the aggressive and offensive play we had gotten used to this season, he was handling it well- but I wouldn’t ever utter it out loud.

Because- who wants to inflate that ego even more? Or was that even possible?

"Hi, Iván.. Just wondering if you got a bandaid for me?" I avert my gaze to the physio, and raise my brows. I hold my hand up to show the wound, and smile when he nods in response.

"Yeah, just a second.." He shoots Jude a quick wink, washing his hands before coming over. He begins to rummage through the cabinet, flipping through a pack of bandaids before handing me one closest to my skin color.

"Here you go.. Do you need anything else?" He asks, eyeing the blood on my hand.

"Nope, only this. Thank you.." I smile, quickly wiping down the blood from my hand and gently placing the bandaid on my wound.

I throw the bloody wipes and wrappers in the dedicated trash can, turning around again when I’m done.

I make accidental and involuntary eye contact with Jude instead of Iván, who's already across the room busy with some paperwork. Probably documenting the progress of Jude’s injury.

My eyes automatically dart down to his shoulder, and unbelievably, my eyes slip to his chest, then to his-

I stiffen when I regain consciousness of what I’m doing, and look away with haste. I fight the urge to smack myself in the face, instead biting the flesh of my cheek when I notice him smirk at me.

"What are you looking at?" He questions, voice low and his cocky tone too obvious to ignore.

My eyes widen slightly when he speaks, and I take a step forward as if to say I’m not intimidated.

"Just- looking at your shoulder.." I say, cringing at the way the words leave my mouth.

"So, you’re worried about me now?"

I give him a look of disgust, a chuckle of disbelief leaving my mouth.

"You wish, Bellingham. I heard Ancelotti is confident in putting you in the starting lineup on Wednesday. You better put your best foot forward, and if we don’t end up winning..." I trail off, threatening him slightly with my tone. I then turn around and leave the room.

I couldn’t lie, being rude to him after he'd dislocated his shoulder and still played made me feel a little guilty.

Though, he had a huge gift of being the ultimate douchebag, even when he’d been having his 'decent' moments lately.

“He’s only turned nineteen two- no three months ago, and he’s already scoring in the Champions League..” Luis gawks, grabbing the equipment bag out of my hand.

“I know, it’s so fun to see young players flourish..” I mutter, mentally recalling the interview I just did with Nico Paz. Since it was his first goal for Real Madrid, we had just done an interview in celebration.

“He is a year younger than you.. Is he really that young to you?” Luis teases, pushing me away when I pretend to kick him.

“What? Are you trying to undermine my accomplishments?” I question, trying to kick him again.

“Hey! See, this is how immature you are.. Step back, dude get off…” He says, and I scuffle with him for a moment, gasping when he tries to put me in a headlock.

“Okay, you always do this- stop everyone is looking..” I mutter, squeezing his arm.

“How fuckin’ childish are you?” I hear a familiar voice say. I snap my head up, Luis’ arm loosening as he immediately lets me go.

“As much as I want to be...” I state, my hand traveling up to fix my hair and clothes.

I hear Jude scoff, he gives me a nasty look before taking a step forward, but I notice him freeze in my peripheral vision when he hears someone calling out to me.

“y/n?!” The person shouts, and I look around for a moment before my eyes land on…

The guys from Naples?

What’s his name again?

“Chris?..” I say, my voice low and as enthusiastic as I can manage to pretend.

Fuck, I never even answered his DM’s..

Well, should I really give a guy who looks like trouble a chance?

My common sense says: NO.

I watch him bring an arm around my back, his hand resting on my shoulder blade when he hugs me tightly. Like we’ve been friends for freaking years…

“How have you been? Thought I’d see you here..” He beams, his hand going up to fix the fluffy mop of blonde hair on his head. Aussie accent undeniably mesmerizing like last time.

He is so pretty, but the kind of pretty that told me he was a full on man-wh*re..

“Hi? Good, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stop the grimace forming on my face. I lean in, taking a closer look at the badge hanging from his neck.

Surprisingly enough, it says ‘VIP’- I look up at him with a questioning look, waiting for him to explain.

“Oh- this.. someone I know gifted me this pass..”

Yeah, very believable.

He smiles nonchalantly, the skin of his cheeks denting as his dimples show.

I nod as if I understand, glancing at Luis, so he can get me out of this conversation.

“You’re the drunk guy from that night!” Chris suddenly exclaims, pointing at Luis.

Could this get even more awkward.

I tune out the stupid conversation they have, shuffling backwards only to bump into Jude.

Thankfully, not against his injured shoulder.

“Oh, sorry..” I whisper, not even registering his response before he’s rudely interrupted.

“Man- no way you’re the Jude Bellingham..”

I close my eyes in embarrassment, turning around to face Jude instead of both Luis and Chris.

I raise my brows at Jude, giving him a look only readable as ‘send this man away’..

He immediately plasters an all too good, fake smile on his face. Stepping behind me to greet Chris, and begins talking to him about the match.

I can only hear a jumble of both Brum and Aussie accents, it making me want to burst into a fit of laughter. Though, I manage to keep it in, looking at Luis to see if he’s still present in the conversation.

He isn’t, as expected. No surprise, he’s fidgeting with his damn camera again.

I stand there like a statue for the next two minutes, looking back and forth between the two accented men.

It’s a comical sight, especially when I can’t even understand some words.

I sigh in relief when Jude pats Chris’ shoulder, careful with his injury when he goes in for a handshake.

I watch Jude leave swiftly, his facial expression falters immediately, and his hand goes up to rip the shoulder brace off his body, harsher than I’ve ever seen him do before.

"My brain is going to explode, fucks sake.."

I mumble, stretching my arms and legs. I get up from the dinner table in order to walk around the backyard for a moment. Trying to get some fresh air, even though it's past midnight already.

I loved studying at the dinning table way more than upstairs in my room. It felt less lonely- especially since my dad had been gone for a couple weeks now. His work and the case had taken an interesting turn, which meant that his stay had to be prolonged.

I didn't mind, in fact, I loved living alone. Except for when I heard random noises at night. It could've been a bird flying against the window, and I’d still be paranoid.

Since it was our day off, after winning 2-0 against Napoli yesterday- I thought I'd go ahead and continue cramming for my last exam I had in a couple days.

I yawn and stretch my limbs, looking up at the clear sky and stars. It had gotten so much colder since December was almost here.

My pajama shorts are not providing warmth, but I can’t be bothered to go up and change when I’m going back inside in a minute anyway.

I can hear my back cracking when I turn to stretch, making me chuckle. I was only twenty, but those hard ass chairs and sitting in them for long periods of time, made me feel like I was double my age sometimes.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear my phone ring loudly from the dinning table. I jog back inside quickly, throwing my slippers off my feet and snatch my phone. Confusion settling on my face when I read the caller ID.

I immediately pick up, pressing the phone against my ear. Worrying about something horrible happening in the middle of the night.

"Dad? It's late, something wrong?" I say in one breath, left hand clutching the backrest of my chair.

"y/n, nothings wrong. I just need you to listen carefully..”

"Okay." I spit out, just wanting him to get to the point, my brain making up all types of things.

"It's concerning one of my clients. Something unexpected just happened, and he's going to have to stay over at ours for a while."

I pause at his words, frowning in confusion, even though he can’t see my face.

"What? So, you're calling me- because I need to let an unfamiliar guy into our house- so he can sleep here? Is it a criminal?”

I gasp, hand gripping my phone tighter.

“A murderer?! Dad! How can you-”

"-y/n.." He cuts me off, voice stern, but I’m able to hear the grogginess of his tone. He'd probably been sleeping before he was awakened.

"It's no stranger- it's Jude, okay? He's not safe in his own home- relating the case I took on. I offered for him to stay over out of concern for his safety. So, he's going to have to stay with- you for a while."

I stay quiet, taking in all of the information he's giving me. I can already feel a migraine creeping up on me, letting go of my chair to massage my temple with one hand.

"I have to get the guest room- ready?" I say, processing everything and trying to understand what I’m supposed to do.

"Yes, I know you two are- friendly. Please be understanding and responsible. I'll call you in the morning, just get him settled and go to bed. You got that, honey?"

"Yeah, I got it. Uh- I'll get the room ready.." I say, already walking up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

"Good, again- I'll call you in the morning- good night, sweetie.."

I quickly hang up after saying goodbye, running around, and making the bedroom look presentable. I change the bedsheets and wipe the dust off the vanity with a swift motion. It takes me about ten minutes and a sweaty forehead, before the doorbell rings repeatedly.

I run down the stairs, almost tripping due to my haste.

I take a deep breath when I reach the front door, trying to collect my thoughts and feelings before swinging the door open.

Jude's house was unsafe to stay in, so he's staying here- right..

The front door squeaks when I open it. An exhausted-looking Jude entering my sight, his black suitcase is on the floor, to his right- looking like it’s about to burst at its seams.

Cold air greets my face and naked legs almost instantly, making me curse internally for not changing clothes earlier.

I was too stubborn for my own good..

"Hi- umh, come in?" I say, my voice hoarse as if I hadn't spoken out loud in weeks.

He nods awkwardly, mumbling something incoherent as he begins rolling his suitcase inside.

I motion for him to take his shoes off, which he promptly does without hesitation. I turn away, grabbing some house slippers for him to wear out of the shoe rack.

I throw them next to his feet, watching his eyes flicker up and down as he steps back for a moment.

"You alright?" I ask, worried about the lack of words he's using.

It was unlike him, whether we’re arguing about some stupid shit or I’m filming an interview- he always had something to say.

"Yeah, I'm fine.." He mutters, looking up and finally making eye contact with me.

"The bedroom is upstairs.." I trail off, reaching over to grab his suitcase, but he snatches the heavy luggage up with one hand, immediately making his way up the stairs.

I watch the muscles in his arm flex as I walk behind him. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what I’m doing and practically start running up the stairs to catch up to him.

I walk ahead of him when we reach the top of the stairs, opening the guest bedroom door for him.

"This is your room, bathroom is there, and the laundry room is over there." I point, turning around to face him.

"Thanks.." His Brum accent is thick, and he looks at me like a lost man in crisis.

I clear my throat, unable to pick between being nice and acting like how we normally interacted.

"Are- do you want to go shower?" I mutter, raising my brows.

I only realize how wrong my sentence sounds the second it leaves my mouth. To cover my embarrassment, I clear my throat again, putting my hands behind my back.

"Yeah- I should.." He responds, and I step aside to let him in the bedroom.

"I'll be downstairs.."

I inform, running down the stairs the second he shuts the door behind him.

I rub my eyes aggressively when I walk into the living room area. Sitting on the couch, I wonder if this is some delusional fever dream.

Maybe it’s just a different genre of dreams, next to those nightmares I had about failing exams.

I mean- who can make this up?

I get up to my feet again, walk up to the fridge, and begin filling up a huge glass with water. I bring the cup up to my lips, and slowly sip on the cool liquid, hoping it will help me feel grounded again.

I exhale deeply when I'm halfway through the cup. Going for my last gulp of water again, I fill my mouth with the rest of the water. My cheeks almost exploding from the amount of water in my mouth.

Suddenly, I'm absolutely- fucking-scared shitless as I'm poked in between my shoulder blades. I turn around in a shift motion, accidentally spraying out the water in my mouth- onto a shirtless Jude's chest.

My eyes almost bug out of my head in shock. My jaw slacks open when I observe the aftermath.

He can only look at me with a blank face. I can’t detect any emotion in his face, but he’s probably equally as mortified as me.

"Shit- sorry.." I blurt, turning around, and grabbing a kitchen towel. I scramble for a second, and start to vigorously..wipe.. his..chest..

I only realize I'm rubbing on his chest like I’m giving him a damn massage- mid-wipe and freeze.

My body goes rigid and my hands are resting on his now dry, naked chest.

I look up at him, only seeing part of his face with help from the dim lights in the kitchen. My breathing slows down, and he looks down at me in return.

I can feel my heart pounding in my ribcage, and I'm sure anyone within meters of me could hear.

His skin is soft and warm underneath my fingertips-

"I- was going to ask how the shower works.." Jude whispers, his warm breath hitting my face. I can make out his brown eyes peering into mine, a series of unspoken and caged words behind them.

His words make me stop breathing for a moment. I remove my hands off of him at lightning speed, the kitchen towel falling to the floor mindlessly and I step back immediately.

"Oh- yeah, sure. Follow me.." I scramble a couple words together, my brain working overtime. I walk up the stairs again. Leading him into the bathroom, noticing he had left the lights on, his discarded shirt on the bathroom counter.

"Here- left is hot, right is cold. This is the best temperature.." I instruct, pointing when necessary and don’t dare to look up at him as he stands behind me.

"This button is for the radio and this one for the ventilation.." I say, pressing some buttons to show him how they work.

"Okay.." He breaths out, his warm breaths hitting the back of my neck. I can practically feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head.

I finally turn to look at him, dragging my gaze up to make awkward eye contact with him.

"Anything else?" I ask, voice low and I begin fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

"Not really..” He replies, sentence dragged out by his accent.

"Umh- okay.. laundry hamper is there. I'll be in my room.." I trail off, pointing my thumb behind me, and walk out of the bathroom without saying anything else.

I quickly clean up the mess I - no, he caused in the kitchen. I wipe everything down properly and grab my laptop and stationary off the dining table.

I carefully lock the front door and windows on the first floor, setting up the alarm and going back upstairs.

I can hear some noise coming from the bathroom. I begin averting my gaze, just in case Jude walks out of the bathroom half-naked again.

I finally get into my bedroom, jumping into my bed. I try to distract myself with my phone until he's done with showering. So I can finally wash my face and brush my teeth after a long day of studying.

Only, this time- my phone doesn’t seem to be all too interesting. Not even those brainrotting and attention grabbing TikTok’s.

Nothing, and I mean nothing- could distract me from anything that had happened within the past thirty minutes..

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #football imagines #football fanfic #footballer x reader #football #football imagine #real madrid

[xoxoavenger]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! ����🎈🎂🎉🎊 I loved Try Me (Matt Murdock x Reader), I was wondering if maybe you could write a sequel? I could see an intimate moment where she’s feeding him the soup she made and taking care of him, potentially with the hilarity of Foggy finding out he’s got two super powered friends

thanks! hopefully this is what you were looking for, I had fun writing it!

Ask Me

pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

word count: 1099

warnings: none

part 1

birthday masterlist main masterlist

"I can't believe you're Daredevil." She mutters as she ladles the soup into a bowl. She made a broth more than a soup because she didn't have time to cut the vegetables, but it'll do the trick. She also didn't know the extent of Matt's injures, and she didn't want him to have trouble eating anything. "Does Foggy know?" She asks as she brings the bowl over to the couch.

"Yes," Matt chuckles, but his teeth are clenched in pain. She kneels next to the couch and she is still shocked by his injuries, even though she's already seen them. He has a large cut across his chest, and resists the urge to touch it.

She watches Matt try to sit up, but he's clearly in too much pain. She puts the soup on the ground in favor of helping him up. She tries not to let her pulse rush as she touches his bare back and bicep, pulling him up gently until he is sitting up enough to eat.

"Here, let's get you some food." She tells him, spooning some broth and then carefully helping him eat some. It's so quiet in the apartment that she swears she can feel her own heart race as she feeds Matt. They're close, and her brain is reeling with the thought of how Matt, and blind man, can be a vigilante.

"I think that's good." Matt groans when they're about three fourths of the way though the bowl. She gets up to put the bowl away and grab a warm, wet cloth.

"How are you Daredevil?" She asks, sinking down to her knees again and beginning to wipe off the blood around his wounds.

"Are you asking if I'm actually blind?" He questions, but he's smiling, so she can tell he's joking. 

"I know you're blind, Matt." She says with a small sigh. She's seen his unfocused eyes too many times to think he was just preteneding. 

"All my other senses are heightened." He tells her, tensing as she begins to wipe a big, deep cut. She hopes that soon her healing food will kick in; she's never seen it help on this level, and she's worried it won't work as well as Matt is hoping it will.

"So, you can hear really good?" She asks, wondering what exactly that means. He shrugs, smiling a little bit.

"And smell, and taste. And feel. I have to have specific sheets because of how sensitive my skin is." He's feeling better, she can tell, and it makes her smile.

"How did figure it out?" She asks quietly. She's had these powers ever since she can remember, but she'd never told anyone and no one ever figured it out either. This is a first, sharing a gift, and she can't help but feel a little scared.

"That your food could heal people?" He clarifies. She almost nods, but then catches herself.

"Yeah," She confirms.

"You asked me what happened again the day after you first gave me the croissant, as if you knew it should have gone away. And I usually have accelerated healing anyway, but not that fast. You wouldn't have known that." He's starting to relax more, and she knows he needs to get some sleep soon.

"You wanna move to the bed?" She asks, putting the cloth down and preparing to move him. Before he can answer, Foggy comes stomping back in.

"So both of my best friends are super heroes?" He yells, throwing the drugstore bag in their general direction. Y/N's eyes widen as Foggy walks to them.

"I am not a super hero." Y/N clarifies.

"I wouldn't classify myself as one either." Matt interjects, a hand out to stop Foggy's rant. It does nothing, and Foggy soldiers on.

"You can feel, hear, and smell things no human should be able to feel, hear, and smell." He points at Matt, who raises an eyebrow. "And you can heal people with your food, that you've been feeding me for months!" Foggy moves to Y/N, and she just shakes her head.

"Have you ever wondered why you haven't gotten sick in months?" She asks, and he just scoffs.

"That proves my point!" He screams. Y/N and Matt shake their heads, Matt smirking.

"Foggy, neither of us are superheroes. You don't need to freak out." Matt tries to calm him down, but Foggy just gets more worked up.

"Are you kidding me? You could be Avengers for all I know!" Foggy grabs the bag that he had thrown and begins to get some of the bandages and Neosporin out to help Matt.

"Oh my God," Y/N groans, rolling her eyes and putting her head in her hands. Honestly, Foggy freaking out was kinda funny, but she isn't sure if he's being serious now or not.

"We're not Avengers, Foggy." Matt chuckles, and Y/N begins to put bandages over Matt's injuries.

"Well I just don't know that, do I?" Foggy looks over at the pot on the stove, walking over there quickly. "What did you make?"

"Just a quick broth. I wanted to get Matt something quick." She tells Foggy as she begins to focus on the task at hand.

"Is this why I haven't gotten paper cuts?" Foggy asks as he ladles a little soup out for himself.

"It doesn't make you skin extra strong, Fog." Matt tells him as she continues bandaging him up. Her hands brushing his skin make Matt want to crawl out of his skin in a good way, which didn't make sense until this very moment.

"Did I hurt you?" Y/N asks softly when he tenses.

"No," He mutters, putting a hand on her wrist to stop her. "It's okay, I think the big ones are taken care of." He just wants to lay down and sleep it off now, but he wants to ask her one more thing.

"Let me help you to your room." She offers, and together, with him leaning on her, they make it to Matt's room.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asks as they sit down. He can feel the heat begin to flush her cheeks, her heart beginning to race. He's worried still that maybe she feels uncomfortable until she responds.

"Working." She thinks she's funny, and Matt chuckles.

"Do you want to go to Josie's with me tomorrow night?" He asks, and she ducks her head and smiles.

"As long as my boss lets me off on time." She says, nudging him with her shoulder.

"I'll talk to him." He tells her, both of them smiling hard enough that their cheeks hurt.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace  @mcueveryday @icequeen1371 @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch

#matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil

[starpirateee]

Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

--

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

#spies are forever #saf #starkid #agent curt mega #owen carvour #star mail #void offering #nova's tags → #wiggly would have an absolute field day with owen and curt huh #bc desires run deep. they want each other. they want to be free... #but curt wants to not be haunted by the ghosts of his past #and owen wants to move on. to get a better future where he doesn't have to devote his life to an agency #might be fun to play around with

[legendwrote]

Headcanon Meme | status: always accepting

@haedshaker​​ asked:

💭 + Lan Jingyi + areas he really shines and areas he struggles

⚍Headcanon - Areas He Shines⚎

  Despite what some may say about his behavior, Lan Jingyi is one of the most studious and earnest disciples in Cloud Recesses. His desire to follow in his late father’s footsteps and his immense and sometimes fanboyish respect for Hanguang-Jun leaves little room for error in his mind, and he strives to be the best he can be as to not disappoint anyone or make things needlessly hard for the sect that raised him.

  His sword skills are impressive for his age, as is his upper-body strength (there is much to be said for being forced to do handstands frequently through his childhood). He knows the Lan sect rules better than most, despite his propensity for breaking them, which is more due to his innate nature than any malicious intent on his part.

  Despite the simple and sometimes medicinal nature of the culinary situation of Cloud Recesses, Lan Jingyi fancies himself a connoisseur of fine foods, often found to critique a restaurant’s dishes (a bit too loudly) in comparison to his mother’s skilled cooking. This has not resulted to any physical fights to date, but much of that is thank to Sizhui’s skills in diplomacy. 

  His laughter is infectious and he is quite good at spreading joy to those around him, though as he’s grown older some of this boyish joviality has faded to a more serious and sometimes sarcastic countenance. Still, there are not many in Cloud Recesses who would not call Jingyi a friend.

⚍Headcanon - Areas He Struggles⚎

  From a young age Lan Jingyi has suffered from a bit of an inferiority complex. Of the two families into which he was born, Lan and Zhao, he inherited more of his mother’s traits — a big mouth and a voracious appetite. When his father Lan Qishu passed away in defense of Cloud Recesses, the sect took the young boy in as a way to ease the tribulations of his mother as well as to honor Lan Qishu’s wish to see his son become a proud member of the inner family. Jingyi struggled from the beginning with his behavior, managing the volume of his voice and his over-excitable nature, and was often the target of many disciplinary measures and whispers from his fellow trainees. This was understandably a curse in some ways, feeling as though he was being a dishonor to his family and sect, and Jingyi struggles even to this day to see the greater blessings that came of it regardless: his strength and tenacity earned him the admiration of his peers and elders, and he has quite an impressive skill set to show for it. 

  While he excels in the sword arts, his guqin skills leave much to be desired — he’s never had much of an ear for music, despite the efforts of his teachers. While he’s learned to control himself some as he’s grown older, he’s still prone to being loud when he gets excited, and using inappropriate language that he picks up in visits with his mother and friends outside of Cloud Recesses. 

  Though friendly with others as a child and possessing the outward appearance that he was confident and easy to get along with, in truth there were very few that saw the real inner workings of a child wracked by frustration and loss. As he grew older this became more clear as he closed himself off more and was prone to irritable outbursts and tears until Zewu-Jun intervened and helped him regain his center, and in addition to that finding a true and trustworthy companion in Hanguang-Jun’s adopted son, Lan Sizhui. 

  Jingyi can be abrasively blunt, another fine trait from his mother, and often relies on his good friend Sizhui to smooth things over for him. It is because of this that the elders of Cloud Recesses are hesitant to send the boy anywhere without his companion — not that Jingyi would allow it anyway.

#⚍☯⚎ Headcanon (Lan Jingyi) #//sorry this is a little all over the place #//my brain is a bit scattered #//but I made myself write them down anyway! #//THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!

[mattodore]

found out while putting together matthias's oc page that his name has the exact same etymology and meaning as theo's name...

i’m sure this is information matthias is very normal about…

#theo is in fact a gift from god so jot that down ! #river dipping #i've been throwing myself into oc stuff bc i'm not doing hot mentally which is... tbh when i do my best writing 😭 #none of this is new tho i wrote the bios and 'at a glance' intros months and months ago when i first made an oc page #which is why i do plan on rewriting them but for now i'm leaving them like this... so i guess the echthroi page is done? #obviously echthroi has more characters than this but i haven't taken new screenshots of everyone yet... #i put the gray cas bg back in my game a few days ago only to completely forget i wanted to take new headshots for the oc page 😭 #like these are just placeholders... i want the backgrounds to match the oc page. oh... or maybe i could just do transparent pics? #i think i remember vyx made a post abt how to do that... will look into that when i open the game again. rn i'm at my keyboard 🧑‍💻 #like i am writing new things! started a google doc for theo yesterday and have been writing on it here and there since then #i've already cried in there... lmaooo. i like oc pages for sure but i think a huge google doc is what i really need to keep track of things #i drop so much lore in tags on here and it's like! river write that down somewhere else or you'll lose it 😭 #like i fr have never actually written down any of the info i've shared on here. i've just had all this oc knowledge stored in my brain. #so i went through and copied over a tonnn of tags and posts i've made into google docs but i just know i'm missing things i've probably #said in the tags of their core tagged posts... 🧍 if my blog didn't have so many posts i'd have an easier time going through it but 🤷 #and on top of that i've been making a bunch of posts about theo and matthias on my main acc. which is like 🧍 well great now there's more #i'm gonna lose track of...... i fr have gottt to get into the habit of actually putting things down in theo's google doc!!! #i'm just trying to figure out the best way to format it all but i've downloaded a few templates that i've been messing with. #...anyway. if it isn't obvious i'm trying to get back to posting on here. i'm opening my inbox now with the intent to just. #sit here in my inbox until i can get myself to reply. lads... avpd is actually so torturous i'm not kidding. #i feel like i'm dying trying to get myself to interact with people sometimes even despite how badly i want!!!! to interact!!! #theo and me and our avoidant trauma responses holding hands and skipping around together

[queenofbaws]

there are already roughly a million posts like this already circulating, but man. just. sometimes you really do have to step away from something you're working on and come back to it later.

creative buds, please. please. no one is worse at taking my advice than i am, believe me, but seriously, if you've been feeling down or frustrated or stumped with something you've been working on lately, take this as your sign to maybe take a little break. a week, a month, whatever. you've been looking at it too long, you've read it too many times, you've erased that same line so many times you've lost count - you need to come back to it with a rested brain and fresh eyes.

however rough it feels to you now, i promise, promise, promise that it'll feel so much better after a little distance. <3

#queenie rambles #writing woes #full disclosure this is 100% about me finally sitting down and forcing myself to reread my own stuff lmfao #there was a lot of Other Stuff happening during the time but the last like. 5-6 chaps of like wringing blood made me SO anxious to post #no matter how many times i edited/reworked them i felt like they were hot fucking garbage #and every time i posted a chapter i was just like. consumed. with anxiety for hours/days after lmfao #now i'm rereading and i'm like aw shit. why was i nervous about this???? #anyway. yeah. let your brain rest. sometimes you need that. #and to anyone who's in the middle of the venn diagram of 'tag reader' and 'like wringing blood reader' hey #thanks for never questioning my rampant misuse of commas and italics and the word fuck!!!!! y'all are the real heroes <3 heheh #and as soon as i finish rereading this you guys better strap in because...i have like...two chapters almost ready to go lmfaooo #FULL SPEED AHEAD FUCKERS

[padfootastic]

No, tell us about the dorm parties and Lily finding out about them, pretty please

ooooh a tag question! love these too hehe

okay so. a lil bit of backstory: i had a semi-wild teen life, ykno? like. not as crazy as ~american high school movies but in the context of the country i grew up in? pretty unreal. there were parties and alcohol and weed and a lot of hooking up. so much petty drama. so much irreverence.

point is: i dont like it when teens are portrayed as some pure, untouched, prudish creatures who've never heard of fun or drugs or sex. it just doesnt fit with what i know.

and i fully believe that hogwarts--a boarding school where kids have MAGIC (which really just means unending possibilites)--was a place where the students went wilddd. one of the ways? dorm parties. u have these private spaces for just you and like. 5 others. u can do a shit ton with ur wand. why wouldnt u use it for parties ykno?

so yeah, i think the common room had larger parties after like. quidditch wins and end of exams, but bc its more people and more younger kids, u had to be more careful. dorm parties tho? smaller, more intimate, and ur with the people u know/trust so crazier shit will happen.

the marauders were invited to a lot of them in the girls dorms (and vice versa) and ykno. they went to a lot. bc teen boys and girls. it was all very scandalous--booze and short skirts and shirts unbuttoned off their shoulders and hazy smoke filling the room and lipstick marks smeared over chins and necks and the like--and incredibly fun. just kids being kids, yeah?

lily, though. i've long been playing w the idea that her friendship w snape (and chastisement of james--and sirius, to a lesser extent) came w a substantial social cost. her defending someone who was so shady didnt win her any points and i hc as her a person who hid her insecurity w self righteousness (on top of just. being a bit of an abrasive person) which didn't win her additional favors. so even her dormmates maintained a certain distance and the dorm parties didn't often include her. she only found out accidentally when she went up to the room it was happening in to get a book back and saw everyone buzzed out and dancing and more relaxed (intimate) than she'd ever seen.

it was genuinely a huge shock when she saw the boys sprawled across the room in varying stages of undress (james had a girl and a guy on a thigh each, arms wrapped around both waists; sirius was hanging upside down w a joint dangling from his lips and its a wonder he didnt choke himself to death) and she squeaked out of the room in a moment of severe cultural shock.

it was only later that she worked herself into moral outrage and just. hurt-filled anger type stuff, ykno? her roommates sort of had to give her a reality check in that moment. the marauders only blinked at her in bemusement, amused at her high-handed attempts to manage them.

#lily evans #friend i'd apologise for the word vomit but... #hc that u can fly a broom up the girls stairs #its a classic and surprisingly unthought of move #and the maraduers quickly discovered it during a nighttime experiment #in fact. id argue that them sharing this knowledge (bc its not meant to be hoarded and on promise of not leaking to authorities) that #made them half as popular as they were #people were in awe #and wouldnt stop thanking them #many couples formed on the spot for the express purpose of breaking this exciting rule #anyway #okay but like #why do i wanna write this conversation b/w lily and her roommates now #bruh why do i always do this to myself #make up some ridiculous AU/HC situation in my asks/tags #and then i wanna bring it to life #but i can picture it so vividly #lily just spluttering- but but BUT #and her roomates are like. no. u dont get to pull away from us and look down ur nose at us and then disciple us at the same time #yum yum yum #this lily evans is also. i can admit. my pushback against her deification which will never not rub me wrong #but once again. another rant for another day #i just realised what a novel length response this became lol #but i hope u like it anon! #pen’s asks #pen’s notes

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King Seb :D

#thank you to Grace for the idea of making his chivarly collar red bull instead <33333 #he was gonna have both collars but then making that one made me suffer so no not today #this was a lot of fun but also made me suffer. but i keep looking at it and being like AAAHHHHH BABY!!! BABY BOY!!!!!!! #can you believe i tried to do this in one night? i cant #i stopped and came back to it and was like 'no way you could do this in one sitting at 1 am' #this is kinda the ascended form of that very first sketch i made for this au! concentrated boy king sebby!!! #i say to myself i need to take a break from drawing complicated things but youll prob see a nando version of this in less than a week ;;; #okay about the drawing(i wrote good tags and then tumblr deleted them so these are a bit inferior AGH): #this is typical pouty seb but is also referenced off a specific pic from AD 2009(beloved) #its very important to me how emotionally open Seb is. im not sure the specific context of this. maybe after a triumph? #but instead of being that typical stoic serious detached kind of ruler; i like him being openly emotional(think AD 2010) #its important as well for his dichotomy with nando and how they choose to portray themselves #seb is very assured in himself and his rule vs. nando who is more insecure and bitter about his #so nando takes strides to portray himself in that more stoic calculating way bcs he feels like it helps him legitimize himself better #whereas seb has absolutely no care for outward public image and shows how he feels and is loved for it(nando hates it but loves it) #not that nando cant be fun and whimsical!! but to me he always seems a bit more mysterious; like i can never tell his true thoughts tbh #anyways i feel like ill finish 10 more drawings before i end up posting the lore pt 2 LMAO #its just a lot harder to organize and layout compared to part 1 which was just an explanation #pt2 would be a mix of more world building/characterization/anecdotes ive talked about with mutuals(LOVE YOU GUYS!!!) #i have a *lot* of ideas (gotta whip out my notes app every once in a while to write down stuff abt it) just hard to put into a coherent pos #sebastian vettel #f1 #formula 1 #f1 art #formula 1 art #f1 fanart #formula 1 fanart #catie.art. #*ill prob make a process post later if anyone is curious!! its fun to write abt my process and influences and such #boy king au

[that-was-anticlimactic]

there’s something so sacred about sharing what you love with others: whether it be a song or food or clothes, a show or a movie or pictures. it's just... such a deep and personal thing, you know? having someone carve out a little part of their heart and gift it to you with an abundance of joy and excitement and passion... yeah.

#i lowkey had an awful day today lol #and it was my first day taking over as teacher so that's a great way to start it #there are people in seventh period who literally despise me and maybe that's an exaggeration but i looked over their creative writing for #the day and one of those kids literally wrote about how he was having a good day but then it turned into a bad day when i started the #creative writing with them so that was great and other stuff happened idk and one of my tics was really... uh... present today and i was so #aware of it and i feel like everyone was laughing at me because of it even tho ik that was just me being self-conscious but God i wanted to #cry and i shared a piece of my heart with them today for the creative writing exercise and so many of them just. told me how awful it was #like someone straight up started with 'this song is terrible' and then proceeded to write a paragraph about how bad it was #idk. it made me feel like a young kid again - sitting by myself on the playground and reading books. like i was in middle school and #everyone was telling me that the things that i loved were stupid. like i was a kid getting teased just lowkey enough that the teachers #couldn't tell because it wasn't necessarily outright bullying but they were making fun of what i loved which Hurts and then i was in high #school having to defend what i love and then in college hearing 'you ruined this for me because you liked it too much' and it just. idk. #it hurts. i find sharing passions and what i love with others so sacred and important and it Hurts when they just tear it and you down and #ik they're juniors and ik there will always be people like that but it was constant and idk. i'm just sad lol #so anyways even if someone shares something with you that you don't like there is literally No reason to be rude about it. you're allowed #to say you dislike it but it's not okay to just tell them straight up it's stupid or awful or you'd rather get hit by a car than hear the #song again. hm. ig i have some unresolved trauma lol #sorry for the rant y'all i just. needed to rant ig idk

[illogicalghost]

.

#big gender rant ahead i just need to write down my thoughts #personal #so i think im a he/him trans lesbian?? #i think ive been denying my feminine side for a long time now but middle school me was right. well. half right #idk why id built up some weird barrier in my mind about being trans and being a lesbian #but now im like more sure than ever #i still dont know if i could call myself a woman. and i thought i was so adamant about not using she/her again but it honestly? #doesn't bother me that much anymore. its not my preference but its not as soul crushing as it used to be #i have these weird subliminal gender rules for myself that ive been beating myself down with even though i #understand that theyre fake and dont hold anyone else to them. so why have a double standard? cant i have a fun gender? #ever since high school its been an uphill battle just letting myself live freely and having self confidence #i just turned 24. i dont have to be beholden to stupid hormonal teenage self loathing anymore #the world is a beautiful place and gender is just made up anyway. so why cant i be trans and butch? who cares?? #i think i worded it well in my last personal post. ive been living a gender of convenience #but fuck that! i want the gender that makes sense to me! that makes me happy! its my life and i should live it how i want to! #...i still have some regrets about my top surgery. i wish i wasnt so weirdly flat chested now. #but hopefully the fat will redistribute eventually and itll look more natural as the years go on.. #but i definitely dont regret going on T. i love my deep voice and my body hair #anyway if you've read this far thanks for listening to my mad ramblings #and dont forget you can have a fun gender too!

[sadisticyouko]

Dude you're fine. Honestly, my experience in fandom has been a whole lot of me going "... Did I miss an episode?" and then realizing that, no, it's just that fandom is wrong.

Hahah thanks 😂 yea sometimes I hear people talk about it like it’s canon & then I feel like the weirdo for not seeing it but tbh we should be able to like & enjoy whatever we want, guilt free ♡

That said I don’t think any side of the fandom is “right” or “wrong” for thinking what they want ! It’s a great show with great characters & I love that we can still enjoy it even years later !

#I’m just a massive yyh fan tbh #I’ll take it in whatever form I can get it ! #and this is unrelated but I just made some yyh dividers for the main guys #and I’m down to make some kura.hi dividers for that side of the fandom if they need them 💕 #I think of it like food #like just cuz that’s not my favorite thing to eat doesn’t mean no one should be allowed to eat it ! #& if I find myself cooking in the kitchen then I’m down to make some food for everyone if they’re hungry #but now you guys know that I personally don’t eat them up <3 #sadisticyouko rants #not writing #anyways

[iwantyoursexmp3]

this guy treats faggot blasphemy like his full time time job

#i was gonna add the second line to the post thread I already had made today but tumblr #is literally not letting me turn back on reblogs!!!! #so I just made a new post LOL #why is it either everyone or no one can reblog why not just me. #anyway like I said on that post not everything here is smoothed out I’m just letting myself #write down ideas before i have them fully formed 👍 #when that happens we can compare I think that would be fun 👍👍 #yayyy for posting writing at all stages and not just when it is polished 👍

[malewifehenrycooldown]

a small post (read: long) of me rambling about the meta implications (kind of???) of Henry + THAT ret-con/reveal in NMH3 in episode: Flesh and Blood. (NMH3 spoilers!!! read at your own risk!!)

okay one thing about Henry that genuinely give me emotional pain is that fact that as a child (like. VERY YOUNG) he tried to save his siblings (Jeane and Travis) from their father who was a serial killer and decided to go on the run. It's not clear if their father was a serial killer in the literal sense, or that he was also an assassin too (it's not really made clear or elaborated on).

The worst part is that they got caught, and Henry, being the older brother who tried to protect his siblings took the fall for them. He had his memory completely wiped, and was taken in by the Cooldown family in Ireland and was basically raised as their own son. sure that sounds nice, until you realise that there's a high possibility that his serial killer father paid off the Cooldown family to raise Henry as their own and to keep his real heritage a secret. I'm not sure how Henry went down the path of becoming an assassin, but I have a funny feeling the entire Cooldown family are reputable assassins themselves (and have been for generations). Which if that's the case, has a lot of meta implications, that absolutely need to be addressed.

This also goes along with some previous posts I've made about NMH1. That some of the enemy characters have the same purple beam katanas and/or have the same ability as Henry (which is to create spheres of energy and use them to attack your opponent). This could be the result of people modelling their attack/style after Henry who has made a name for himself in the world of assassins OR, that Henry is being put into a position where he has to train other assassins, and thus have used Henry's training as a spring board for them to become legitimate assassins. Whether Henry is doing this willingly or unwillingly, is unknown, although I place my money on the 'Henry is being told to train a league of assassins with (several) guns pointed at his head'

Honestly, knowing that Henry tried to save Jeane and Travis makes the fight with him in NMH3 more heartbreaking, because Travis at this point has Killed Jeane (their sister) - because she was the No. 1 assassin in NMH1. Now, Travis is forced to kill the person that has saved his life before and was punished for trying to protect his siblings. Do you know how deeply fucked up that is??? completely forget Henry's incoherent ramblings, and focus on the fact that the narrative of No More Heroes is about how the cycle of violence, revenge destroys people - and in most cases that cycle is perpetuated not just by the system but also is unfortunately re-enforced by family history and inter-generational trauma.

I'm not saying I want another story of NMH, but I do want a version of NMH where Travis has an epiphany and realises that his entire family is stuck in a cycle of violence and destruction. And decides to tear down the system and end it - He even says in NMH2 that he wants to tear down the United Association of Assassins, tear down the SYSTEM that makes up the organisation that's in the pocket of Jasper Batt Jr.

And as clumsy as NMH2 is with it's ludo-narrative dissonance - that line has stuck with me, especially with the fight with Alice Twilight and Holly Summers in mind (which have HEAVILY impacted Travis as a person). I want a story of Travis Touchdown, that looks back on his fight with his sister Jeane, and laments that he could have spared her (doing so is against UAA rules) - but realises that he can rectify that mistake by saving Henry from a system that is an ouroboros.

Travis made the decision to become an assassin - and he just so happened to become THE crownless king in the process. But Henry did not have that luxury, let alone a choice (assuming the Cooldown family is made of assassin), and so maybe perhaps Travis can repay the favor of saving his only other blood relative from a system that destructive and throws out tools that they think aren't of use anymore.

TL;DR: the Touchdown-Cooldown Siblings deserved better and definitely need LOTS of therapy to heal from the inter-generational trauma they have.

#anyways i hope henry killed main patriarchal heads of the cooldown family <3 #or is planning to with his little cult of emerald knights. because i'd be MORE THAN HAPPY TO JOIN HIM #i know this series is not meant to be taken seriously but sometimes you need to dig deep and analyze aspects that are worth #talking about #suda made this series yet there's still so little we know about the series from face value and supplementary material #for that reason. i'm going to play with it as if it was an open sandbox because it means so much to me #tbh this kinda turned into a real incomprehensible rambling/rant. i'm sorry i have a lot of thoughts about NMH. #[r]: henry cooldown | we are finally cowboys #NMH3 spoilers #shallow rambles #nomoreposting #suda51posting #abuse mention tw #inform to tag #this went from me talking about henry - to talking about how i want travis to tear down the system that crushed and used his siblings #and threw them away like old rusted tools #hmmmm sounds like a good pitch for nmh4..... #WELL. GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO WRITE NMH4 myself then / lighthearted jokes

[hearts-hunger]

//

#i feel SO gross and weird and anxious about my stupid job #the person i reached out to that i thought would help me or at least back me up completely blew me off #so there goes that relationship/mentorship that i thought i could depend on #and now i have to go reach out to somebody else who patronizes me every single time he talks to me #all to see if i literally even have a fucking job #teacher work days start in less than two weeks and i don't have a fucking contract!!!!!! #it's been a complete shit show all summer trying to get ANY information much less any commitment on their part #and i'm sick of it and i feel like i'm gaslighting myself into thinking i'm the problem #like ''oh you just haven't given them enough time'' or whatever #the truth is they should have had this shit nailed down in february. at the very least by the time last school year ended #it's fucking JULY!!!! school starts in THREE WEEKS!!!!!!! #so yeah i hate confrontation and i hate being assertive and i hate being made to be assertive in confrontation #but i have to be because i'm not going to let them treat me like shit because it did good work for them and i deserve some basic respect #ANYWAYS. rant over. going to write this email and uhhhh throw up probably idk #maddie.txt

[j-ellyfish]

You are the QUEEN of Spaus 💜

Waaahhhh thank you!! Q///w///Q

#ask #I'm blushing and smiling like an idiot right now you have no idea how happy this makes me feel #I've been liking Spaus for SO long but back then I felt very insecure about my art and stuff and I didn't even have anyone to talk about #it with ... And so I drew them kind of rarely because I was so scared of not giving them justice and the lack of content also made me feel #down ... I know I shouldn't have thought that way and I'm SO HAPPY I got out of that mentality but #back then I felt like 'why should I bother my art sucks and no one cares about this ship anyway so I'll just keep it for myself in my mind' #but little by little I got out of that mentality #felt a bit less insecure about myself as an artist and had more experiences all around #and so when I came back and got into Hetalia again in late 2019-early 2020 #I felt very compelled to make up for it #I came back thinking 'I don't care if people ship it or not I HAVE to give it my love and let it known because it makes me feel good' #and so I started by translating the first part of what would become 'Einmal Noch' which I had started writing many years ago #originally in Italian ... Then I FINALLY finished writing it and it made me feel so accomplished because that story wouldn't leave my mind #and it stayed with me in the back of my mind even during the years I spent away from Hetalia #and then I took the courage to start drawing Austria again even if back then I was never fully satisfied with it #and little by little I think I got happier with myself through it and wanted so badly to do things the way I wanted no matter what #and I started sharing about SpAus and stuff and it makes me SO happy that there are other people who like it too T___T ♥ #sorry I'm getting a bit emotional haha 'xD

[stuckycreativity]

Miss her.

Her being Steve & Bucky during the Howling Commandos era.

Bucky struggling with trauma from having been a horrible horrible lab rat on top of being in an unforgiving war, Steve struggling with trauma from being thrown into that unforgiving war after minimal time to prepare his new body for all this.

Them needing to find a new footing in regards to their relationship because

There's something broken within Bucky, Steve can feel it, but he's not used to Bucky being like this and he can't bring his friend to talk.

And Bucky? Bucky feels flat out useless, now that Steve has this new body and is cured of all those maladies. Bucky feels swallowed and spat out again, all wrong and dark and ruined, so surely Steve wont need him anymore.

(He’s so so so very wrong).

So yeah, it takes them a careful dance and probably some verbal collisions to find the rythm again, but it’s a testament to their bond that they find it again, and really, there wasn’t any real doubt about that anyhow. They rile each other up, spray fake poision around, compensating stuff left and right, until the sweet sweet catharsis comes along and they fucking communicate.

There’s a bone crushing hug, trembling fingers, a few tears, hushed words and many downward gazes, Sorry, Buckys and Stop it you yucks and It’s gonna be okay, Bucks and Yeah I know Stevies.

And the Howlies watch it all happen from start to finish right before their very eyes when they got out of that Hydra hell, with a mixture of amusement, sadness and annoyance - most of all affection though.

#i have a lot of feelings about howlies era stucky i think i've made that clear before #but today i miss them especially hard for some reason. i can't bring myself to read fic but I had to write some words down about them. T_T #i just. idk why but that period of time in their lives - especially bucky's - means a lot to me. #if i had a lot of money and power i would persuade chris and seb and the howlies actors to make a series about that time. #it's a little dream that will never happen. not with those actors anyway. but. thank goodness there's fanfiction <3 #stucky #stevebucky #howling commandos #howlies era stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #howling commandos era #post battle of azzano #stucky headcanons #marvel headcanons #headcanons #my posts #excuse any grammar mistakes or typos. i'm not a native english speaker lol #musings