#this is a ss from my friend btw

[quadruple-a-battery-under-ur-bed]

ITS BACK!!!

#ao3 #ao3 is back #this is a ss from my friend btw

[seongclb]

#prob will delete later #this is a rant ☹️ #btw that ss isn’t from me #all of the people who reposted that including the person who ss it are my ex friends #so i js know they’re talking ab me #this made me cry so much #why do they hate me like what did i even do.. #they literally reached out to me not that long ago as well #i just cba anymore like #it’s been a whole year now #i’ve done sm to apologise and i still feel like shit #i don’t get it like i’m not the only one who did smt wrong and i’ve tried to apologise numerous times #what more do they want #someone teach me how to stop caring

[veggiecorner]

every few weeks i'll say a lil take thats essentially me bitching about behaviors

todays take is that i really hate when people make everything about shipping - especially when it comes to character analysis

#theres this one guy on zelda twt (and if you're there you'll know immediately who i'm talking about) who turns EVERYTHING about shipping #like the post will be about “zelda coming to terms with her friends death” and he'll be like “wow i'm so glad zelda is dating link then!” #bitch.....ur making us look more insane than we already do #i remember seeing this one post about the zelda movie update and he went to LITERALLY every news twitter talking about it #to reply about how much he wants zelink in it #i am also a zelink shooter but please separate ur enjoyment of zelda games from shipping pLEASE it'll be so much more fun #and also you'll stop being severely disappointed because imma be real...with totk zelink being obvious #nintendo is never gonna outright confirm it - totk and ss is the closest we're ever gonna get #anyways thats my bitchy take #sorry for my lack of funny silly posts i'm fighting the unemployment to grad school applications pipeline accusations #(i'm failing btw i applied for like 4 schools already - wish me luck tehe)

[myunghology]

Are farts

#dumbest #is me btw i got the ss from a friend😭😭 #xin my super cool platonic bf

[sgiandubh]

When clueless, silence is golden

I was just browsing around while looking for something completely different and stumbled upon this quintessential Mordorian POV:

Disclosing a username is crass and I usually never do this, unless really necessary and relevant. So spare me the ad hominem argument you usually fumble around with, Disgruntled Tumblrettes. Yet, for all its intellectual paucity, this is interesting dissection material, since clearly this person hasn't got the slightest idea of what she is so confidently talking about.

First scenario at play: The Tasting Alliance, 'a company no one has ever heard of', booked and paid for the suite.

Not necessarily booked, nor necessarily paid, madam. In the real business world you are so clueless about, these arrangements are seldom - if ever - monetized. It's rather all about barter.

That company no one ever heard about - except, perhaps, #silly and totally irrelevant Forbes (https://www.forbes.com/sites/joemicallef/2023/04/13/the-tasting-alliance-and-reserve-bar-are-set-to-launch-top-shelf/?sh=b45f7085f6f1) - is the parent company of the San Francisco World Spirits Competition (SFWSC), largely acknowledged as at least one of, if not the world's leading spirits award contest. Google is your friend, you should try it some time:

The operative info here is that this evaluation comes from the Beverage Trade Network, a professional portal for spirit dealers. Having determined this, Tasting Alliance's IG number of followers is completely irrelevant, since we are talking about two very different targets, here. Its real leverage and weight on the global market does not really need the boost of an aggressive social media presence and the kind of events it hosts are not your favorite junior hockey league or elementary school cake and bake sale.

Let's look a bit further. It takes one click to get on the Tasting Alliance's website (https://thetastingalliance.com/). Granted, not all the information you need to understand its business model is right there and I had to go dig a bit (not without some help - merci encore!) to even get a grip on how these wheels are really turning.

The way they sell themselves is sober and confident. And completely disinterested in social media impact, to be honest:

So, in lieu of glitz and sequined bras, we have a success story in its own right, which started in Frisco in 1980, then continued in 2000, with the addition of the San Francisco World Spirits Competition. Further expansion followed in 2018, with the New York World Wine & Spirits Competition and 2019, when Dias Blue set a firm foot on the emerging Asian market, with the Singapore World Spirits Competition.

I doubt an explanatory drawing is needed as to the why of this expansion choice: it's all about baijiu, the old/new Chinese sorghum spirit and the everlasting love of the Far East for anything fermented. Lao-lao, the unspeakable Laotian homemade rice whisky, comes immediately to the mind of this blogger: the last bottle I saw, somewhere along the unexploded ordnance ridden Route 13, had a plump snake inside, as a naïve Viagra of sorts. Took a mouthful and thought I was going to die - but when spending the night in a longhouse with the Tai Lü people, you can't afford a faux-pas, can you? /end of travel memories intermezzo

By all my estimations, The Tasting Alliance is very profitable business. Let's unpack ( for current fees, see source: https://callingallcontestants.com/contest/2023-san-francisco-world-spirits-competition/):

Considering the 500 USD fee /entry (550, in 2023) in the competition and the fact that in 2022 there were approximately 5000 entries in the Frisco spirits' competition, we have a very rough turnover estimation of 500x5000= 2.5 million USD. That figure is just for one of the spirits competitions, mind you, and does not take into account what the winners probably pay for the right to mention their medals on their bottles (I am yet to see them on the SS gin bottles, btw), nor the multiple sidekick profit (e-shop sales, consulting and/or other distribution deals, etc). So, at the end of the day, I would comfortably multiply that base by 4, assuming a similar scale for all the other events they organize, which takes the yearly turnover at around 10 million USD and keeping in mind this is very probably a conservative estimation. I also assume costs are negligible, taking into account the discretion with which major players traditionally operate on that particular niche. Real expenses are probably limited to the activity of a handful of offices, sparingly and intelligently staffed. Advertisement is probably bartered and social media, well... you just saw the effort, haven't you?

But then there's the brand's real power on that market and this is the right time to talk about influence and impact. Perhaps this recent (2021) Men's Journal article will help us see better: https://www.mensjournal.com/food-drink/inside-the-san-francisco-world-spirits-competition

With a bit of luck, this could happen:

Sounds familiar? Of course and I bet that was S's strategy. If you imagined him doing the same exhausting booze tour every year (groping on top and seriously cringe on the sides), I think you might want to reconsider. I told you Sassenach Summer was a sandbox for more serious things to come and until now I have no reasons to change my mind. He did it for a reason and, mind you, that reason is not that the booze did or does not sell. It does. Restaurants start to feature it. Podcasts are being produced. The press starts to mention it (that recent New York Times article is evidence enough). This is not Lucky Luciano dealing in bootleg alcohol during the Prohibition and making obscene money over a fortnight. This is a serious business project that was delayed by COVID. That's all. And it takes time and patience and consistence. We know he has all those aplenty.

We also have the totally inane take on production costs for that podcast. It suddenly made me remember again my media expert past. It is with complete and educated confidence that I tell you: a potential 5K USD extra cost for renting that damn suite for the day is peanuts, even for a two-minute clip (let alone, in reality, a podcast interview, and I stand corrected if wrong), if such costs are covered by The Tasting Alliance. But my money is on a barter with The Shutters on the Beach, which would be, again, common business practice.

Second scenario: 'Shutters comped the room for free promo (...) for an actor most people haven't heard of.' You can throw timelines down my throat as many times as you wish and tell me he already stayed there several times and yell and screech, but here is what I think. Shutters didn't comp that suite for S, an actor most people haven't heard of, a decent, hard working start-up entrepreneur. If so (I doubt it), it would be logical to think Shutters comped that suite for The Tasting Alliance, which has a long documented history of partnerships with hotels that host their competitions:

So Shutters might have comped that room for a major player of the alcohol lobby world, happy that S, a returning client, picked them out of several possible options, because it was convenient. I don't believe for a second he stayed there.

This guy knows what he's doing and C's gin success completely depends and I bet will rely on that relentless networking effort. If anything, the Keepers of the Quaich recent development is only confirmation of all the above. But that's another story - very soon on this page.

IYKYK. The rest is uneducated cackle. But Mordor people were never the brightest bulbs in the fandom's chandelier, were they?

#BoozeWars

[lynxiesblog]

Who do you recommend to listen to for subliminals

hii my luv ♡ here is a list of my favourite subliminal markers that have given me crazy amount of results! This isn’t in any particular order btw. ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ ~♡︎ it’s kind of long , so I apologize in advance.

°˖ ✧ wonyangi — her clear skin subliminals work insanely good it’s mind blowing. Her upturned lip & nose subs work really well too. 10/10

°˖ ✧ baejin cafe — I mainly use their life subliminals (money, family, glow up, friends, etc.) and they work. 12/10

°˖ ✧ clinxque — her hair subliminal works really well, it’s the main thing I use her subs for.

°˖ ✧ crystie — I’ve been listening to her for a while now and her subliminal work really well. Especially her suffering from success sub.

°˖ ✧ Enchanted Workshop — their crystals subliminal series works really well. Same with intellect subliminals. I literally love

°˖ ✧ I want it, I got it — I’m literally a member of her patreon that’s how good her subliminals are. I’ve said this before but her pretty privilege sub works TOO well.

°˖ ✧ kestiny — i just live her subs. Her affirmations are amazing and simple and you get results.

°˖ ✧ m!ss b!imbeaux — her body subliminals WORK SO WELL😩. Every single one of them are just chef kisses

°˖ ✧ RAINY VIBES — her nose sub and pretty resting face worked really well and pretty much gave me instant results

°˖ ✧ voeux — her subs are in every single one of my playlists. They work so well and the songs are 👩‍🍳💋

°˖ ✧ zeivlyn — her school related subliminals are wonderful and work really well

°˖ ✧ Krystalized (Beauty Krystalized) — her grade subs 10/10. Beauty subliminals too.

°˖ ✧ wesylin — school, grade, everything subs are just heart eyes

°˖ ✧ million dollar woman — her themes are adorable & her subliminals work pretty well for me

°˖ ✧ Cajel Amirah — guys I just started listening to her but her “guys simp on me” works INSTANTLY. I listened to it before going out and so many guys were staring at me even women. Her nose sub works really well too.

°˖ ✧ V1Per — I almost forgot her. Her subliminals are very good too and are in most of my playlists.

#111111 #affirmations #law of assumption #manifestation #loa #subliminal results #results #affirm and persist #desired appearance #self concept #success story #subliminals #desired face #desired body #ideal life #spirituality

[brittscafe]

Request Page

Hi! Welcome to my request page where I give you plenty of ideas on what you can request and more. This is the updated version of my request page btw, I did delete the old one.

You may request whatever you desire, but I decided to list some ideas below. I only write for Bleach and JJK characters!

I do recommend checking my pinned page or my bio to see if my requests are currently open or closed and to see the rules before requesting.

Also, I'm gonna try and update this as much as I possible can!

Types of requests I accept:

Headcanons

drabbles

imagines

one-shots

blurbs

hell, I'll write you a whole ass book if you want.

Types of readers:

fem! reader

male! reader

gn! reader

husband! reader

wife! reader

bf! reader

gf! reader

spouse! reader

teacher! reader

injured! reader

black! reader

latina! reader

hispanic! reader

chubby! reader

insecure! reader

etc, the list goes on and on, lol I will accept any type of reader!

I write:

enemies to lovers

friends to lovers

fakes relationship

arranged marriage

forbidden love

love triangle

poly relationships

opposites attract

angst

smut

fluff

angsty smut

angsty fluff

fluffy smut

rough smut

whatever trope you want tbh as long as it follows within in my rules

What I don't write:

incest/stepcest

yandere themes

abusive themes

p!ss kink

anything without consent

SFW requests:

Accidentally brushing their hand with yours

hand holding

hand holding with the thumb thing (iykyk)

soft kisses

soft lazy kisses

hand kisses

forehead kisses

neck kisses

passionate kisses

dancing in the rain.

playing the snow; making snow angels, snow fight.

beach; swimming, building a sand castle together.

going on a picnic.

staring at each other from across the room.

hugs; side hugs, hugs from behind, long hugs, swaying hugs, hugs where you lift you off the ground, comforting hugs, etc.

back rubs, playing or brushing with their/ your hair.

being reunited after being after from each other after a long time.

taking care of reader or character when they are sick.

cuddles before bed; cuddling on the couch;

nuzzling your head into their neck or character nuzzling their head into your neck.

Finding comfort in each other.

taking care after getting injured.

Hesitant kisses, but they want to keep kissing.

comforting them after a nightmare.

comforting them after a death.

character saving you from near death/ you saving character from near death.

pet names. (baby, babe, bae, my love, darling, etc.)

wearing partner's shirt.

falling asleep on partner's shoulder/lap/chest.

lingering with your lips open, touching, but not kissing, and this one glance at their eyes and you say fuck it and pull at their collar to kiss them.

NSFW requests:

degrading

praising

leaving marks all over your/ their body.

biting and sucking on skin.

grinding.

oral; giving or recieving.

nibbling, sucking, or bitting skin and moaning into their mouth.

kisses trailing down to your most sensitive areas.

watching as your partner goes down on you.

rough sex

gentle sex

needy sex

sleepy sex

virgin reader with experienced character

squirting

public sex

edging

orgasm denial

overstimulation

bondage; handcuffs, ropes, etc

blindfolded

daddy kink/ mommy kink

choking kink

spanking kink

sub/dom

size kink

praise kink

pegging

toys

mirror sex

caught masterbating

shower/tub

threesome

throat fucking

oral, f! receiving

oral m! receiving

SFW prompts:

"I love you so much."

"I adore you."

"You're so sweet."

"I don't ever want to lose you."

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Are you okay?"

"I've missed you so much."

"You're so cute!"

"It's ok. I'm not leaving."

"I'll stay by your side."

"You smell so good."

"I'm right here, baby. it's okay."

"I'm so proud of you." "I will never leave you, ever."

"Can you hold my hand, please? I'm scared."

NSFW prompts:

"Good girl."

"You like it when I fuck you like that, don't you?"

"You like it when I fuck you like this? Yeah you do."

"You're so wet."

"God, you feel so good."

"Spread your legs, baby. Wider."

"My slut to ruin."

"I want to hear you beg."

"I like it when you're rough."

"Faster."

"Harder."

"Say please."

"Do whatever you want with me. I'm yours."

"You're such a fucking tease, you know that."

"Don't you want to play with me?"

"You can take it."

#bleach imagines #bleachanime #bleach #request page #bleach x reader #bleach x you #bleach x y/n #bleach headcanons #bleach anime #bleach x female reader #bleachichigo

[japeneselunchtimerush]

Ship tier for Murasakibara? :)

Lovers: I have to admit I don't really think about MuraHimu a lot(it should be obvious who is on my mind 99% of the time) however I really like the fact that it's so much more than what it seems. You can take it at surface level and say that Himuro is nice to him and kinda acts like his big bro/mom but it's so much deeper than that?

Like their relationship is great because they are so different. Murasakibara is a player made from talent, its even been confirmed that until high school he was pretty much relying on instinct to play while Himuro is nothing but hard work. Its not just in basketball either but also in academic areas. Himuro resents murasakibara's talent and murasakibara doesn't get why he even cares and even though they are so different they do love each other a lot and that's very cool.(This became very long sorry)

SS+: Because I already talked way too much in the other one I'll keep this one as short as possible. I love how Akashi spoils him so much(giving him snacks he won at the festival, giving him his popsicle so that he doesn't but more etc) but also cares about his health its really cute. Also the scene in last game where mura helps akashi(bokushi) up is very heartwarming and its a very touching parallel to teiko. I think they're very cute.

I shipped it as a joke but I dont think its a joke anymore: Okay yeah at first I shipped MuraMido because lmao but then I started looking into it and now I can actually see it. Despite their differences and how much they bicker(let's be real bickering is its own love language) they are still pretty good friends actually. Midorima lends Murasakibara books quite often according to the psp game and Murasakibara compliments midorima quite a lot there too. When Midorims was complaining about wearing a women's kimono Murasakibara intersects with a "But you looked good in it though" his words not mind. And this was not in a mocking way btw.

Brothers in Spirit: I don't know what I mean by the tier name honestly but it works ig. Kuroko and Murasakibara have very different ideals and also disagree a lot but the love is there. I really do see them as siblings tbh. I can see Mura lying down after practice and Kuroko collapsing on top of him and then they just lay there together until someone(Akashi) tells them to get up.

I read one polyam fic with MuraHimu: Yeah I actually did read a couple of drabbles with MuraHanaHimu and they're all actually very sweet. Still don't know my opinion about this ship though but Im open to it.

They eat together: Honestly MuraKaga just seems so funny to me. Like all these two would do is eat then bicker then eat then bicker then eat again theres a touch if basketball in there somewhere too dont worry. The eating periods are like temporary truces until Murasakibara reaches over and grabs one of Kagami's burgers and then all hell breaks loose. And Himuro is between them trying to keep the peace and failing spectacularly.

Cute but not my thing: Idk Im not into this ship purely because the KiyoHyuuRiko is too strong within me.

#murasakibara atsushi #sorry for the late replie😔😔 #But i had tons of fun thinking about it #murahimu #muraaka #muramido #murahanahimu #murakuro #murakaga #murakiyo??

[ilbenmalpensanteus]

It's funny how ss fans can be wrong even when they are... right. Yes, I'm not contradicting myself.

As you all can see thanks to the pics I posted, one of them was "talking" (read: whining) about how ss has mythology references as well.

Well, I won't denying it.

Saying otherwise could be 1. false, 2. wrong, 3. hypocrite, 4. honestly against my very line of work.

However, I would like to point out something:

Ninigi has, indeed, similiarities with Sasuke, such as:

a. his "connection" with Amaterasu

b. kusanagi

c. he will marry Sakura

But. The similiarities end here.

Now, that could be hardly casual given Kishimoto's clear knowledge of mythology, history and literature; however, aside from the marriage and the sakura flower, the similiarities between Sakura and Sakuya-hime, instead, stop here.

Thinking he could have used this specific, eventual, references to mark Sasuke and Sakura's relationship as a romantic one is ontologically wrong.

Why? For the genericity of the references, obviously.

Amaterasu and Kusanagi are two milestones of Japanese mythology and one can find them in several legends, related to very different characters.

Secondly, the comparison between Sakura and Konohana Sakuya-hime isn't flattering.

She was the usual empty, batshit crazy woman who burned the hut with their children inside to prove she didn't cheat on him.

You can find it in every, single, version of the myth. The girl was not fine.

The usage of fire as well: great, really, but a fuckton of japanese deities are fire-repellent, so it's like to say... nothing spectacular?

Now, about the "sources" they shared:

Aside from the one pic with Kaguya (totally out of the blue, I would say, given I only stated sun and moon symbolism are often associated with sexual intercourses or lovers), we have:

- Sakura and Sasuke's name on the sand (probably written by Sakura, don't know why this is relevant.

- Sasuke with kusanagi (that's okay) and snakes: here the snakes are clearly the focal point. But why? Was Ninigi associated with snakes?

- The cover with Sakura wearing a sakura-flowered dress and while holding the Uchiwa fan.

The last one specifically is... interesting because: where is the deep references? The flowers? That's the girl's name. The fan? It seems more like another sign of Sakura crushing on Sasuke and writing "Sakura Uchiha" on her notebook while giggling.

So, the point is:

If you want to make an analysis you need:

1. real sources (not photos already crafted to prove your ss point) - btw, I gave actual books, but they refused to take them in consideration;

2. to use images consistently.

Here a summarised analysis:

Shinjū is a Japanese term meaning "double suicide". Lovers committing double suicide believed that they would be united again in heaven. It was also possible for lovers to commit a murder-suicide (muri-shinjū).

This is a clear example of Shinjū's reference:

Here, we have:

- the will to die together

- the hope they will meet again in the afterlife

- the "connection of hearts" (from the very term's meaning and the context)

Here the sources:

1. Becker, Buddhist Views of Suicide and Euthanasia, Philosophy East and West

2. Takahashi, Cultural dynamics and the unconscious in suicide in Japan

3. Leupp, Male Colors: The construction of homosexuality in Tokugawa Japan

4. Heldt, Between followers and friends: male homosocial desire in Heian Court Poetry

5. Saikaku Ihara, Love of Comrades

6. Saikaku Ihara, The Great Mirror of male love

7. Rogers, She loves me, she loves me not. Shinju and Shikido Okagami

8. Heine, Tragedy and Salvation in the Floating World

THIS is a sensible reference. And a very small analysis.

And a parallelism.

Bye :)

PS Tumblr fucked up the pics order (sorryyyy)

#sns #naruto analysis #anti sasusaku stans #anti sasusaku #japanese mythology #literature

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Awakened | Captured

if you are accepting ideas/requests, I just had a terrible awful wonderful idea for tss Angst for your consideration. you have a lot of fics that end in the six sides participating in group cuddles (which is awesome, btw, i can literally never get enough of all the boys being soft together on a comically large mattress). butttt, plot twist, after everyone has fallen asleep, one of the sides (that isn't the one they were comforting in the first place) has a super realistic nightmare or sleep paralysis or something along those lines, and wakes everyone else up accidentally. hurt/comfort ensues :*) – vinbee631

Quick suggestion that I would love to see you write because you’re my favorite author: so I have a theory that Virgil didn’t hate the other dark sides until he thought it would get Thomas to like him, so he played up his hatred of Janus and Remus to the point that he actually started to believe that he actually did hate them. Now that they’re being accepted Virgil has a crisis. Worrying that his past hostile behavior will get him booted from the group, he either starts cutting everyone off in preparation for being isolated or tries to backtrack and gets himself into a heated argument with the dark sides. I’ve followed your SS content for a while and I actually really love your poems you sometimes write into your fics. I sent them to a friend with 0 context and they cried. Hope you have a nice day! – justanotherghostreader

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-deprecation

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 2902

    The blow takes Virgil by surprise.

Or, Virgil's nightmares can be quite...vivid.

The impact is so jarring it sends him stumbling to the ground, coughing and gasping, fumbling for a grip on his own weapon and trying to get back up, but the point of Remus's morningstar touches his neck and stills him.

"Drop it," Remus bids, "hands up."

Virgil swallows as best he can with the spikes under his chin, letting his sword clatter to the ground. His hands raise in a gesture of surrender as Remus hums.

"I quite like you like this," Janus muses, one hand trailing idly across Remus's head like a reward for a pup, staring down at him, "broken and bloody, on your knees for me."

Virgil barely manages to keep his hands from shaking.

"But I think I might like this more."

Remus tilts the morningstar, digging slightly under Virgil's chin, forcing him to raise it. Using just one of the spikes, he forces him up and over, tipping down enough to fall onto his back, gasping for air, hands still raised, spikes still nestled under his throat.

"Ah, yes," Janus drawls as Remus stands over and straddles him, "that's much better."

Virgil glares up at them. "Does this satisfy you," he spits out, "to see me like this?"

Remus chuckles, dark eyes sparkling with the light reflecting off his weapon. "Do you know what you look like, sprawled out between my legs?"

"Stunning," Janus agrees with a sinister chuckle.

Virgil scoffs. Remus tuts and presses the spike into his neck.

"Don't disagree," he says lightly, as if they were talking about their tea preferences or which color suited them better, "you never did have an eye for it."

"An eye for what?"

"Beauty, for one," Janus says, eyes trawling up and down Virgil's prone form before leering at Remus, "breathtaking."

Virgil finds the morningstar at his neck a bit more breathtaking, thank you very much.

"Just look at the pair of you," Janus sighs, as Remus finally lets the morningstar leave his throat, only to trail over his chest, his stomach, spikes splitting Virgil's tunic from top to tip.

Remus lets out a disappointed noise at the mail underneath, but slides the point back up to sit in the dip of his chest. Virgil's breathing picks up. Mail isn't designed to stop a weapon like that at a distance like this.

Judging by Remus's grin, he knows that too. He puts a bit more weight into it, just so Virgil can feel the tips against his chest.

"Absolutely stunning," Janus murmurs.

"You have a funny way of showing your appreciation," Virgil grits out, trying to find a way out of this, "pinning me down and threatening my life."

"Your life?" Remus cackles and shifts his grip artfully on the morningstar. "This isn't about your life."

"You have a weapon aimed at my heart."

"Your heart's about an inch to the side, actually." Remus tuts like a disappointed schoolmaster. "No, I'm not currently about to kill you."

"Then put the spiky thing away. Ah!"

Virgil yelps when the spikes dig further into his chest.

"He's not threatening your life," Janus says in a voice that should not make Virgil feel like a scolded child, "but that doesn't mean you get to be all mouthy."

God, those spikes are sharp.

"The only thing we're truly threatening now is your pride."

"And your dignity," Remus chortles, "not that you have much of either left."

Virgil glares up at them. "So what?"

"So…" Remus draws the word out, metal lightly clinking against metal as he toys with him. "I'm personally savoring what you look like right now. It might be the last time we see you like this."

Virgil lets out a bark of laughter. "So you are planning to kill me."

"Of course we are, don't be so obvious." Remus rolls his eyes. "You're going to die at some point, no, no, no."

Janus's grin sharpens and he crouches down, trailing a finger along Virgil's cheek. He shivers.

"I'm enjoying how you look before," he murmurs, touching him, touching him, touching him.

Wait, before?

"All that fire in your eyes," he continues, still touching, "so alive, so passionate, so wild…it's going to be glorious watching you burn out."

"You said 'before.' Before what?"

"Oh, darling, you didn't think all of this was just because we wanted to play with you, did you?"

Virgil's eyes widen.

They'd been stalling.

Sure enough, the ground rumbles with the rush of approaching figures, a whole horde of them by the sound of it. He tries to twist and see but the morningstar bites into his neck again.

"Ah-ah-ah," Remus chuckles, "none of that, now. You keep still."

They were coming. Whoever it was was coming fast and there was no way for him to do anything about it. They'd laid a trap and he's fallen right into it.

"Oh, don't pout," Janus teases, "you had to know this was coming."

"W-what?"

"You spent so long poisoning them against us, against the idea of us, and now that they've realized all of it's a lie, do you really think they'll let you go?"

No, no— "I didn't—"

"Oh, yes, you did," Remus says, "you told them we were villains. You told them we were the bad guys, even though you used to be one of us. And now you never will be again."

"Didn't you know?" Janus dangles a favor in front of him and his blood runs cold because he knows that favor, knows there's no other way for them to have gotten in, unless it's true, it's all true— "We've been tasked to hunt down the greatest villain these lands have ever known, the one who lied and split us into two when we were only ever supposed to be one."

Blood pounds in his ears. Would it be easier to die now? Would it be better than being dragged in front of those he once considered friends, even family, and forced to repent? Then again he had once considered Janus and Remus family, could he find out some way to…to…

"Oh, don't slip away," comes Remus's voice, "I want you to remember every second of this."

"Of what?"

"Of losing."

A quiet puff of something getting released.

A smell of sweet berries and thick smoke.

A dark cloud.

A flash of steel.

A low chuckle as Virgil slips into unconsciousness.

"Oh, darling, we're going to have so much fun."

***

Virgil bolts upright, grasping frantically for something, anything he can use to defend himself, anything to ward off whatever they used to knock him out—where am I? Where did they take me?

—only for his fingers to scrabble against a pillow.

What?

He's panting. He's panting, why is he out of breath? He touches the pillow again, running his fingers over it in the dark—only it's not completely dark, there's some light filtering in through the window. A window? Blinds cover it. Blinds, the blinds are drawn, why are there blinds—oh, oh, it's a living room window—why is he in the living room?

With a start, he lets out a sigh of relief and buries his face in his hands.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.

He's on the floor of the living room, at the edge of a large mattress Roman summoned yesterday. The others are spread out over it, all of them huddling around Patton. Right. Right. Patton had a rough depression day yesterday and they'd all fallen asleep to a movie on the big mattress in the living room.

Virgil presses his fingers against his eyes. Hard enough to see stars.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

First it had been dreaming about Roman being dead, and now—now he's dreaming that Janus and Remus were about to capture and torture him? What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

He growls and fists his hands in his hair.

They didn't fucking deserve that, even if technically they were the heroes in that scenario, because they wouldn't do that, they weren't cruel like that. Only Virgil was fucking cruel like that, apparently, because he'd been the one to imagine it which was fucking rich considering how awful he'd been to both of them in real life.

God, he's been so awful.

It's a fucking miracle that they said they forgave him. After all the vitriol he spewed at them, after how hostile he was, after how fucking despicable he was to them in ways he knew would hurt, he said things that he knew were sore spots for them, he did things he knew would make them uncomfortable, they still fucking forgave him.

And he just had the audacity to have a nightmare where they're hurting him.

You're the worst. You're the fucking worst, you're the bad guy, you always have been. What the fuck is wrong with you, it's your fault that all of this happened, you're the only one at fault here, how could you do something like this, you deserve to feel guilty, you deserve to hurt, you deserve it, you deserve it—

A hand catches his wrist as he goes to scratch as his face and he can't stop the yelp.

"What are you doing," Remus asks, the real Remus, the soft and sweet Remus who's looking at him with concern, "why is your brain being so mean to you?"

He just whimpers.

"Hey, hey," Remus murmurs, quickly wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer, "shh, shh, don't cry, don't cry, it's alright."

He's so awful. He's so fucking awful.

"You're not," Remus says firmly, pressing a kiss to his temple, "you're not awful. Thoughtcrime isn't real, you can't be held morally responsible for your dreams, you're okay. You're okay."

"No," he rasps, "no, I'm not."

"You are," he repeats, but he repeats a bit too loudly and Virgil hears the sounds of stirring and burrows deeper into Remus. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"Virgil?" No, that's Logan's sleepy voice. "Little one, are you alright?"

"Virgil? Kiddo?" Patton's hand finds his shoulder and pats clumsily. "Hey, sweetheart, did you have a bad dream?"

"He did, yeah," Remus says when Virgil just mumbles something, "and he's feeling bad about it."

"Thoughtcrime isn't real," Logan says gently, prompting a see? from Remus, "you're not a bad person for having a nightmare."

"Logan's right, kiddo." Patton sits up and scoots a little closer, rubbing his side as Remus rubs his back. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Virgil shakes his head. He can't tell them what it was about, what the fuck, why would he do that? It's not their fault his brain is being an absolute piece of shit and it's definitely not their fault that he's been an absolute piece of shit in real life, which does matter, because he's been awful about everything and he's sorry, he's so sorry, he's so sorry—

"You remember how this goes," Remus warns softly before wiggling fingers find his ribs, "no apologizing for your brain being mean when you can't do anything about it, little monster."

Virgil keens, and Logan mumbles a soft protest but it's too late, he can hear Roman and Janus stirring and he can't face them, not right now—

"Remus," Roman mumbles, "why are you being mean to the shadowling?"

No, Remus isn't mean, I'm mean, I'm the awful one, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—

Remus tickles him again and he yelps, hands coming up on instinct to try and push him away.

"Remus—" no, no, not Janus— "answer Roman's question."

"Oh, little monster here is trying to apologize for feeling bad about his brain doing things he can't control."

That's not what I'm apologizing for, but then Janus is sighing and moving across the mattress to him and then gloved hands are lightly tickling his back and it feels like home and it feels like safe and he can't—he can't—

"Stop, stop," Roman barks, "he's crying—you're making it worse!"

He's bundled into another warm chest—Roman's—and then he's sobbing into the crook of Roman's neck and oh, he's being so awful and he's been so mean and now he's making it worse, he's making such a big deal out of this—

"Shh, shh, calm down, baby, it's okay, it's okay," Roman murmurs, rocking him back and forth, "shh, shh, shh…"

Distantly, he can hear the sounds of Patton and Logan asking Remus and Janus what's going on and Janus explaining, and then Janus asks what's going on and Remus says that he had a nightmare and Janus lets out this soft little upset noise and no, no…

"Hey," Roman whispers, just Roman, only Roman, "can you tell me what's going on? Just me?"

Virgil sniffles. "I—I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay, baby, what are you sorry for?" Roman listens to him blubber his heart out for a while, soothing the hitches in his breathing, and when he finishes, leans down and kisses his temple. "Oh, baby, it's okay."

"No, it's not."

"It is, it is, shadowling, I promise. Can we talk to them?" Virgil just hides his face. "Can I tell them for you?"

And because Virgil is a filthy coward, he nods.

"Virgil's upset about something other than the nightmare," he hears Roman say, "I think whatever the nightmare was just…exacerbated it."

"Oh, kiddo…"

"What was it that's been upsetting him?"

"He thinks he's been unforgivably awful to Janus and Remus, for how he acted before we all started getting along." Roman tightens his grip protectively. "That's what he's been apologizing for."

"Little monster…"

"Come here, sweetie."

"No tickling!"

"We won't, we won't, I promise, just give him here."

"Hey," Roman says softly as Virgil whines and clings to him, "it's gonna be okay, alright? The rest of us are right here, nothing's gonna happen to you."

"Come here," Janus murmurs, deftly scooping him into his lap, "hey, there you are, hello, little spider. Hey, can you look at me?"

"Don't wanna."

"Please, sweetie, just for a moment?" He looks and Janus's face looks all soft and sweet and worried. "You're alright, sweetie, it's okay. We forgive you, remember? It's all okay now."

"Shouldn't."

"You don't get to decide that for us," he chides lightly, "and we've not been perfect to you either."

"We get it, little monster," Remus agrees, carding his fingers through his hair and scratching just the way he knows will make Virgil melt into a puddle, the bastard, "it's okay. We're not mad."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, shh, shh, it's okay. You don't have to do that." Janus kisses his cheek, cuddling him closer. "You're forgiven, little spider, it's all okay now."

Virgil just sobs. And because they're still being all sweet to him, they just hush him and comfort him and he wants to stay here forever.

"You can, little monster," Remus says when he mumbles something to that effect, "come lie down, you gotta get some more sleep, it's still the middle of the night."

"'M sorry for waking everyone."

"Nonsense," Logan says as Patton and Roman make noises of disagreement, "we are happy to help."

"They're right, sweetie." Janus kisses his cheek again. "Come on, now, let's lie down. Sleep is important for tired little spider babies."

"'M not a baby."

"You're my baby," he teases, ruffling his hair, "and you always will be. Now hush. It's sleep time."

Remus keeps a hand on him too, rolling over onto his stomach with one hand on Virgil's back as Janus lies down, Virgil on his chest. "Go to sleep, little monster, we're right here. We'll keep you safe."

"I'm sorry."

"No more apologizing," Janus says, sleep already coloring his voice, "or we'll tickle you."

"No," he whines, "no tickles."

"Mm, then you'd better sleep."

Remus chuckles at his pout. "It's okay, Virgil. You're okay now. It's all gonna be okay."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

feel free to strike this from the record, but my understanding of bryce/jensen's lore is that when they do get married- the ceremony is small/private w them telling everyone later. I saw this ss and it made me think- what if this is how they told everyone 😭

who's who in this scenario (if you think this is bryce x jensen coded)

oh yeah this is 100% what happened but like,, imagine this over text. bc they really didnt give two fucks and just said it in the gc like it was nothing. i think they told aurora and her partner over their monthly dinners (since they live so close), and bryce told a few close friends + keiki when jensen proposed bc he was excited, but they dropped the actual getting married part like it was the most casual thing in the world

but honestly okay this is absolutely going in the hc bc sometimes theyll share food pics and where they got it so the others can try it (they used to do it when they were all in boston but it was just a habit they all kept up). bryce sends it in the gc that they got married (literally mid convo. just "jensen and i got married btw") then not even two seconds later jensen sends a pic of the most delicious looking tacos like "guys if youre ever in town you HAVE to go to this place look at how amazing these are"

and you can imagine how that goes

#ty for this i love this sm #absolutely just figured out that whole part of the hc for me bc thats so fucking funny #and so fucking them too #jensen valentine #asks answers #bryce lahela × jensen valentine #bryce lahela #open heart #open heart mc #open heart choices

[shurisneakers]

bridges break (vii)

summary: steve shuts himself away. you pull him along on a trip of a lifetime in an attempt to reconnect. great plan! except there’s one big secret he’s keeping from you that could change the course of your entire relationship, and there’s no greasy stack of diner pancakes in the country big enough to hide behind.

(road trip!au, best friends to lovers)

Warnings: mentions of death, injuries, war, angst, mental health issues and disorientation, ptsd, swearing, panic attacks, lemme know if i missed anything and I’ll tag it.

A/N: hate mail to j*ss whedon for not making the avengers friends when he literally. could have. like it was right there. and now unfortunately i have to stick to that part of canon like sir you're ruining my found family ihysm. anyway this part mentions tony. (how are we all doing btw how is everyone's life going?)

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

"Fact number 3. Captain America's favourite colours are red, blue and white."

Steve's face contorts. "Absolutely not."

"I can see why they think that," you say through a mouthful of popcorn. "Take a wild guess, why don't you."

"I prefer the stealth suit," he grumbles. "Not that they cared to ask."

"Because you'd tell 'em if they did? King of open communication?" you retort before going back to your phone.

Steve stays quiet. He knows it's a joke but there's a bite to it that he isn't sure you've used before.

"Fact number 4. The shield is calibrated to return to his arm constantly," you continue, however.

"Now that's just wrong," he states. "Sometimes it comes back to my face."

You hold back a laugh. "You've hit yourself in the face with your shield?"

"I wasn't born with the ability to throw that thing around, you know." He can't help a smile. "The serum was the only thing that stopped us from finishing half the army's medical supplies. I had a new broken bone at the end of each day because I caught it wrong."

"What?"

"Broke both my femurs once. Had to lay there on the ground for a couple hours till it healed so I could walk back to the main camp."

You wince. "Steve."

"They always leave that out of the movies," he says dryly. "Wonder why."

"You're insane." You shake your head. "I feel bad for Bucky."

Steve finds himself grinning. "He was convinced I liked doing it."

"Your smile doesn't tell me otherwise," you say, entirely unimpressed yourself.

There was still a tiny scar on his shin. He sometimes saw it when his legs were propped up in front of him. Each time, ghosts of the searing pain shoot up his thigh and fade away a second later.

"Fact number 5," you digress when he doesn't counter your earlier statement, "His favourite food is apple pie."

Steve shrugs.

"I know that's wrong. You like blueberry better."

The corner of his mouth quirks into a tiny smile. "I do."

"Fact number 6," you call from where you lay on the bed. "His favourite movie is Gone With the Wind."

Steve stares at you from the chair, one leg crossed over the other.

"Well?" you urge. "Is it?"

"How many of these are there?" he asks wearily.

"Like, twenty four." You turn back to the phone when he doesn't answer. "Fact number-"

"Please," he says. "No more."

"Fair enough."

He watches you close the tab, dropping the phone onto your chest.

"It isn't Gone With The Wind."

"Yeah, I know."

You continue to stare at the ceiling. It's an easy afternoon, for the both of you to rest. Check out was later and then you were supposed to be on the road again.

"You know, I don't think I've ever asked you that," you say, flipping onto your stomach to eye him. "What is your favourite colour?"

Steve thinks for a second but invariably settles on the first colour that pops into his head.

"Yellow."

"Fun." You pull your phone out from under you and unlock it again. "I'm gonna comment that, hold on."

After a beat, Steve asks, "What'd you say?"

"Told them I have it on good record that Steve Rogers' favourite colour is yellow--" your focus stays on whatever you were typing out-- "and that their list sucks."

"Maybe leave out the last part," he suggests.

"And posted." You give him a thumbs up. "I'll give it five minutes before someone starts an argument with me in the replies."

He's gotten into his fair share of online arguments. It'd dwindled over the years, but there were enough for his PR agent to pale whenever she saw him near a phone.

"Did you actually post that?"

"Huh?" you ask, but it comes out distant as you click dedicatedly at something.

"Are you already fighting with someone?"

"Give me a second." You hold up a finger.

Steve settles on watching you focus on the task at hand.

In a flash, your nose scrunches up all weird. He thinks it's adorable, especially when he catches your eye and you immediately try to get rid of the disgust, disdain, whatever it was.

"What?" He laughs.

"Nothing."

"C'mon," he prods. "I'll tell you my favourite movie."

"That's a trick question, Rogers." You wave the same raised finger at him. "You don't have a favourite movie."

Steve huffs a little at the failed attempt, but his heart swells. Just a little. A normal amount. He represses the everloving shit out of it.

"It's nothing," you repeat, locking your phone again and dropping it beside you. "I just took a Buzzfeed quiz to find out my superhero boyfriend."

Steve's eyebrow quirks up. "And?"

"It's the raccoon." You sigh. "The space raccoon."

"Rocket?" Steve asks. "Yeah, I could see that working out."

"Do you now?"

"I've got a way of contacting him around here somewhere. You think you can wait that long?"

You reach over to throw a pillow at him and Steve laughs when it misses by a long shot.

_____

The clear, unobstructed skies are dealt with by looming trees. Dark, tall and swaying.

Steve loses sight of the road minutes into the woods, watching in awe and trepidation. His ears stay tuned-- he can hear every footstep in a two-mile radius if he really tried, and for a second he really does consider it.

The car moves along slowly, windows rolled down welcoming the freshness. Steve inhales and exhales just as deep, letting clean, crisp air flood his system.

"That's the owner," you sing, pulling the car to a halt by the side of the house.

It's a wooden A-frame, with windows giving him a peek into the inside. A ramp goes up the side and to the back, serving as an entrance and a patio, a pit out front for campfires.

Steve steps out first, doing a quick scan of the environment before you join him. Nothing was wrong. Yet.

You greet the blonde woman dressed in a bright red tracksuit, hair up in a pony and a bandana pushing back flyaways.

One hand on her hip and the other out to meet yours in a shake, she jumps back and forth between Steve and you as you introduce yourselves.

"It's nice to meet y'all," she chirps, eyeing the both of you up and down. "We get a lot of couples out here this time of year. Y'all got lucky with the booking."

"Oh, we're not..." you begin before trailing. "Thanks for fitting us in."

She catches it, however, raising an eyebrow at Steve. He gives her a polite smile.

"Here's the number to the keypad. Just remember to keep the noise down if you're playing music, no smoking, no pets. If you're using the fire pit, pour water over it when you're done."

"Got it," you confirm. "Won't be an issue."

"I'll be a few miles away at our campsite." She looks at him. "Don't hesitate to call or visit if you need anything. My phone's on at all times."

"Thanks." He gives her a smile.

"At all times," she repeats slowly as she backs away. It has you stifling a laugh.

"We'll keep that in mind," he replies. "Have a nice day."

"You too!" she calls out. "Make yourselves comfortable. Have a nice stay."

You wave at her as she gets into her own car, engine whirring to life as she pulls away, but not before sending him another look out her window.

"Wow," you say in awe when her car disappears beyond the trees.

"I know, it's beautiful." Steve isn't even looking the same direction as you are, seemingly having turned towards the house in the middle of the encounter.

You look at him strangely, almost as if you're gauging his reaction. "Uh huh. That's what I'm talking about. The house."

He tilts his head at you and you dismiss it with a shake of yours.

"Come on," you adjust the bag over your shoulder. "I call dibs on the upstairs bedroom."

_______

The sun sets faster in this part of the world, or he just doesn't notice the time slipping by.

Afternoon turns to evening turns to night in a flash by the time he comes back from exploring the nearest surroundings. There's a lake nearby, still and gentle with a paddle boat nearby that he might convince you to go on the next day.

But above all else, there is just overwhelming quiet. He can hear twigs cracking a mile away, the beating of your heart next to him as you walk beside him and every bird that lands on a branch.

You eat dinner out in the open that night, diner food balance don your laps as you sat on the stairs. Steve has a jacket thrown on. He realises he doesn't really need it, but he keeps it on nonetheless.

"Staying in places like this for at least a week would factory reset your brain," you say. "It's dangerous."

"What d'you mean?" he asks.

"Why do you think people who go on vacation sometimes just stay there?" You bite down on another spoonful of rice. "It's the peace. Once you get addicted, there's no going back."

"Have you?"

"Not yet." You shake your head lightly. "I don't ever stay long enough. I've got work to finish that I won't get to otherwise."

Steve finds himself relating a little too much to that. "Yeah."

"My parents liked it," you add wistfully, almost. "The quiet. Our house was silent a lot."

Steve has nothing to say in reply. He supposes that's why he hears you humming to yourself so much-- filling in spaces left behind by other people.

"But maybe someday." You shrug, facing him with a little smile. "It's something to look forward to."

"Today we're in Morocco. Next week we'll be in Lebanon," she says. "After that who knows?"

"Depends on where we're needed next." He takes aim and throws his dart.

"I guess.” She watches it hit the board. “And eventually, we won’t be needed anywhere." Nat looks at him. "That's what we're doing this for, aren't we?"

"That's the goal." He offers her a dart out of his own pile. She turns it down. "Don't know if that's ever gonna happen. Retirement, stability; it seems a long way off."

"The quiet?" Steve asks.

"The quiet," you affirm.

The sky is cloudy, but the moon is bright enough to illuminate the area around you without the support of the cabin lights. You don't say anything much, only tidbits of conversations here and there.

The leaves rustle whenever a draft blows, and once the wind chime that hangs above you both settles down, you are left in the same silence as before.

He can't tell if he likes it or not.

_______

Steve raises his arms above his head and stretches until he hears the usual pop in his shoulder.

The sweater he's wearing rides up his waist, exposing a tiny sliver of skin before his arms drop to the side again. It was cooler outside than he'd thought it would be, even after you'd raised the temperature in the house in anticipation of it getting even worse at night.

"G'morning," you say, sipping from a mug, settled back in a lounge chair on the patio.

"Is it?" he squints at the sun.

"Well no. It's like, one o'clock, but I didn't wanna wake you," you confess. "Thought you'd need the rest."

Something-- and he' can't quite put his finger on it-- had kept him on edge the entire night. His sleep was light, barely there, just in case something decided to show up from the trees.

"Breakfast?" you propose. "Brunch, actually."

"I'll get it," he replies. "It's in the bag?"

"Yeah, there's some muesli for you. Bread's on the counter," you reply, going back to the news you were reading.

Steve steps into the house, bare feet against the cool floors. He locates the duffel bag on the dining table, already left open.

He finds the box of cereal fairly quickly, and as he pulls it out it reveals the supply of crackers, chocolate and marshmallows underneath.

It brings a smile to his face as he reads the label on each one, sifting through a few ready made meals before his sight lands on a box somewhere near the bottom.

Pancake mix, and a tiny, sealed bottle of syrup.

He sends a glance over to where you're sitting unaware, back turned to him.

It takes him about twenty minutes to find a pan, mix up the batter and make enough pancakes to keep the both of you full the whole day.

_____

Tonight, you declared, was the fateful night.

"You can see the stars clearly from the outskirts," you tell him. "And apparently it's not supposed to be cloudy tonight, so yay."

It's a task, but you gather up all the firewood you could find, a big grin on your face as you drop it near the pit. Steve follows behind, carrying even more than you were, amusement on his face.

"C'mon," you instruct, "time to put those arson skills to use, Rogers."

So he does. Puts all his century-gathered knowledge together and creates the best fire he can, steady and would last a pretty long time. By the time he's done, even he's impressed.

"You got the bucket?" he queries. "The owner said it'd be under the kitchen sink."

"Have it right here, filled and ready to go," you confirm, patting at it. "Don't worry, I heard her through all the swooning."

He pokes at the fire to shift around some sticks. "What swooning?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Don't tell me you couldn't see it."

Steve holds onto the log for longer than usual before declaring, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, my God." You bite down on your lip to prevent a laugh. "I know you're shitting me, Rogers, there is no way you didn't notice her flirting with you."

"Is that what this is about?" Steve's eyebrow creases. "I didn't notice."

"Sure you didn't."

"Swear to God, I got no clue what you're talking about."

"She told you to visit her campsite," you remind him lightly, "at any time, whenever you want."

Steve's face twists when realisation sets in. "I didn't read into it."

"She's got a little crush on you," you tease. "Who can blame her, really?"

"Stop it," he mumbles, attributing the heat creeping up his neck to the fire. "She doesn't."

"Do you usually not notice when people hit on you or--?" you point out, "Because it's been happening on this trip, too. I have eyes, I can count."

"First of all, I didn't get hit on for about, sixty per cent of my life," he retorts. "And when I did, it was hard to miss."

You quirk an eyebrow, throwing a random twig into the flame. "What, no playing coy?"

"The exact opposite." Steve's smile, the one he reserves for the days gone by, is slight to himself. "Sometimes the girls used to just grab me and kiss me. It caused a lotta trouble.”

The boys used to keep track of every time Steve stumbled into his quarters with lipstick smudged across his cheek and genuine excuses for being late being met with 'uh huh, yeah right!'. They thought it was the funniest shit in the world while he painstakingly wiped away at his mouth.

You, however, react differently. A flinch. It's small enough that he probably wouldn't have even caught it if he wasn't paying so much attention.

He's quick to ask, "What's wrong?"

“I dunno. Just think that they shoulda asked first.”

He pauses to think about it for a second. Wonders if that's why he never laughed as much as the boys did.

He can’t think of a response so he lets it go.

"She doesn't have a crush on me." He feels the need to defend.

"Absolutely." You nod. "I completely agree with you."

You laugh when he mumbles something under his breath and it drags a reluctant smile from him.

As dusk moves into night, the clear sky is unfortunately forced covered by clouds rolling in. Not a star to be seen.

"Maybe it'll clear up in a while," he offers.

You sigh. "I don't think so. Damn weather forecast lied to me."

Steve's mouth presses into a thin line. "I'm sure we'll see it along the trip somewhere."

"I suppose," you reply, head turned up to the sky. "I thought we could see it together. I loved stargazing as a kid.” 

“I remember you telling me.” Steve's face can’t help itself, his lip tugging upwards. 

“Yeah, I’d stay up pretty late to wait for my parents so I found my way towards it. I picked up on a few constellations to show them but they were always too tired." Your head inclines, trying to see past the clouds. “Or they weren’t really interested. But eventually, that’s what got me into science, y’know?”

Steve’s mouth tugs to the side unhappily, eyebrows knitting together. He doesn't know how you were so casual about them, each time, after everything. 

You face him again. “Did you ever do it? Stargazing?"

"Not like you, I think," he says. "I can name a few constellations, but that's it."

"You got a favourite?"

"Scorpius," Steve replies. "This kid in my apartment used to point it out to me from the roof sometimes. He liked insects in general, used to chase his sisters around with them.”

A wide smile grows on your face. "That's adorable."

But it’s been years since Walt was long gone; so was his mother and his sisters and almost everyone else in that brick-walled apartment that was falling apart at the seams. 

He clears his throat before he can think too hard about it. "Your favourite changes every time you do this, doesn’t it?"

"It does." You reach over to pull out the supply of marshmallows you'd got along the way. "I can't ever pick one."

"Do you have a favourite star?"

"Yeah," you shoot back, smile changing into a grin, "You."

It's the first terrible joke you've made in days. That fact alone is enough to get a laugh from him. It smells of relief and mixes with a groan.

"Leave one out for the bears," he reminds as you hand him a stick with a marshmallow speared on one end.

"Mighty generous of you, Steven." You hold it over the fire. "I'll make extras for you too. Gotta get that energy in when you're fighting them."

"Yeah, you gotta even the playing field."

The joke brings with it the memory of bright sunflowers that should be picture perfect, but instead, it feels like someone's poured water over the campfire.

His fingers itch, and he chooses to run it through his hair to shake off the sudden despair that threatens to weave its way through him again.

Steve reminds himself that's why he keeps the jacket on.

When he looks back at you, your face has sobered too. It's no stretch to assume you were reminded of the way the afternoon had taken a turn after a mostly pleasant day.

"What happened there that day, Steve?" you ask softly, pulling your roasted marshmallow back from the flame.

"I don't know." He bites the inside of his lip. "Guess I was just tired."

He was, but even you know that wasn't entirely truthful.

"I'm not going to push you," you say, neck craned towards him. "But I think keeping everything in isn't the way to deal with it."

His own treat is singed at the edges by the time he remembers he pulls it back, but he can hardly find it in himself to care. He doesn't even think he wants to eat it anymore.

"Everyone says it's something different. The way I am." Everyone's got an opinion, everyone's dissected him open on every television station, podcast, internet forum. "Everything from possession to being a cyborg."

"Doesn't matter what they think."

"What's your assessment?" Steve turns to you.

"Doesn't matter what I think either." You look him in the eye. "I'm not qualified to hand one out. Different kinda doctor."

But it does. It does matter what you think.

Steve looks at you before looking back up at the clouds.

"We didn't have names for all this back then." He finds it easier to talk about the war than himself. "Mostly just called it shell shock or combat fatigue. Sometimes all it took was thirty days on the field."

He can hear it it still, ringing in his ears. With the flashbacks and the commands he remembers shouting over raining bullets, the only thing missing was the smell of blood stained mud and death lingering close by. He doesn't know how he speaks so easily about it, like a reality he's detached himself from. He supposes it was good. If he re-lived every emotion he went through during those years, he'd go insane.

"The first year out of the ice, they had me meet with a few living World War 2 vets. Some sort of publicity stunt, I don't know." He shrugs. "They thought it'd be good."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Didn't really know them, but I knew people who knew them," Steve says. "We talked about what we remembered. Most of it matched up, some of it were things I didn't even know happened."

They stuck him on a plane within two weeks of coming out of the ice and attributed his face going pale and vice like grip on his knees to air sickness. It took a while to get used to being in the sky again.

"One of the guys there, retired Colonel, was talkin' about how one of the privates was gonna get court-martialed for going A.W.O.L. during the war." Steve shifts, tugging his arms closer together. "Just a kid too, eighteen years old. Don't know how they even got past Basic, they always did the vilest shit to get you ready for what's out there."

"I can handle it."

"You're all of four feet tall with twigs for bones, and you think you can handle it just cause your mamma called you a strong boy? Go home."

"I can handle it," Steve repeats, teeth gritting, sweat tearing down his skin. The sky had barely seen the light of day and his muscles already ached in places he couldn't put a finger on.

"Why, cause you got heart? You believe in the power of friendship?" The man's stare hardens like his fingertips. "What those posters sell ya- that's all bullshit, kid. That ain't gonna save you."

Steve's fingernails bruise into the palm of his hands but he doesn't shift.

"This-" He shoves at his chest and Steve is forced to take a step back, heels digging into the soil. "This is gonna save you."

He'd seen this kind of people before. Ones that violence hadn't made softer, just the opposite.

"Your scientist buddy may believe in that good man, boy scout horseshit but out there-" the man points behind him- "out there, Rogers, there are no morals. Would you eat a brother if you were starving? Would you stand on his dead body to pick fruit from a tree?"

Stories of pushups with broken ribs, limbs getting blown up right in front of him. Always hard to talk about the nicer things, the good things in life. Stories shrouded in negativity flow from his heart so easily that he fears that it's become his new normal.

"They called it the war to end all wars. It's what they told everyone, told them their sacrifice would be worth it. You start losing friends once, twice and then over and over again and you start wondering--" Steve presses his mouth into a thin line. "Come out a hundred years later and nothing's changed."

Your mouth is pressed into a hard line. You don't say anything, however.

"That's my assessment." He looks at you. "I think that's what happened there. Thought I'd gotten used to it, letting go of people you care about. Apparently I didn't."

He didn't think he'd have to deal with it again. He'd put it away, locked it in a room with the rest of the memories of the war and when he was forced to break it open again, it just didn't compute.

"We didn't talk about it," he continues, voice clear. "Wasn't really heard of to ask for help. You just... dealt with it. Moved on. Get out of there if you can and get your life together if it all works out."

Some of them dealt with it well. He met Morita's grandson, and from what he heard, the man had lived a good life. He wouldn't talk about the war too often but when he did, it was always about the boys. Others were lost in thousand yard stares and memories he kept locked away, but his grandson mentioned the clementines he always had for him when he visited.

"Have you talked to someone about this?" you lean forward on your elbows. "Anyone?"

"Sam knows a little bit. Buck too, but that's different." That was informal, filling in the gaps from what Bucky could remember and what he wanted to remember.

The VA sessions were good whenever he could attend them. Not very regularly, or a lot; he was always more of a listener than a talker. But it felt liberating to know he wasn't alone.

"There are more specialists out there now." Your tone's shifted from the light one earlier this evening, but he's grateful it doesn't hold the same air of patronisation he's heard before. It's kind. "People who've been through similar things."

"Yeah," he says, chewing on his lip. "I know, but-"

He took the support group job on after Sam, hoping it'd help. Every session, the dull guilt of hypocrisy and the inevitability of someone calling him out on what he was-- a fraud. Trying to help others make sense of a world he couldn't, help them continue when he still hadn't figured out how to move on. A lie.

“They won't- they don’t understand. All they wanna do is take notes and try and figure out what's wrong. What if I don't want to know what's wrong?”

It's like a snap when he suddenly gets what it is, back in the doctor's couch with her opposite him. It's suffocating. He's suffocating.

He blinks hard, turning his head up to the sky.

Stars. There's a constellation hidden up there, but he doesn't know the name.

He could make a new constellation. For the way he can hear you breathing beside him and the spitfire warmth of the burnt-out logs. A constellation, and he'd name it after something you love. Rain on pavement, or videos of penguins falling over. For you and him, and the silence in the between and the words he can't distinguish the meaning for yet.

“Would it help if it wasn't, you know, that methodical?” you pipe up again. "Like talking to me, or to someone else who isn't taking notes."

He looks at you wearily. "Ain't that unethical?"

"What, talking to a friend?" You give him a smile. "No, I think we're within the laws on that one."

Steve's eyebrows upturn, and he waits for you to say something more.

"Not like therapy. Just-- anything. I won’t say anything. But you need to talk it out because I'm worried you're going to implode if you don't."

"I don't know what to say." Where to begin. How to begin. Who is he talking for? How does he do it right?

You look at him with no expectations, but a strong concern. Steve stays where he is, one hand holding a branch, one balanced on his knee.

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Whatever you want," you promise. "I'd like to hear you talk about what you want to. Even if it's about the forties, or I don't know; the MET Gala or something."

"They invited me this year."

"Of course they did."

"Don't think I'm going."

"Had a hunch."

But something you said rings out to him, forcing him to reconsider.

Steve hesitates. "You want me to talk about the 40s?"

"If you want to," you reply. "Jus' don't want you to feel like you don't have anyone to talk to. Because I'm here, I wanna listen."

Steve chews on the inside of his bottom lip.

And surprisingly, it makes sense that it's all he wants to talk about.

Going to the past is comfortable. It's calm.

"Don't know if I can get it out," he says. "I'm tired."

"Of?"

Everything, really.

"It's been a long day."

"Well, let's get some rest then," you break the silence, offer him a kind smile.

You reach down to repack the uneaten food without another argument. The ball was in his court again, and he knows that eventually he'd have to rally it back. It wasn't fair; for you to keep trying and for him to offer nothing back.

So he says, "Ask me something. Anything."

You look up at him, and his lips slight upwards in encouragement. You let the bag drop back down.

"Okay," you pause, and decide on trying to keep it light for a start. "Tell me something good."

Something good.

Like what? His favourite childhood memory or the song he finally found whose two lines he had been singing to himself over and over in the past month? Something big, with bubbling laughter and strained voices, or small with subdued contentment and blush stained cheeks?

Almost like you can sense his trepidation, you add, "I can go first."

He agrees.

"I," you begin, almost like an announcement, "saw three cats yesterday."

His eyebrows furrow. "Where?"

"Near the museum."

"I didn't see them."

"That's 'cause you were in the gift shop."

"Oh."

"You know what?" You reach over to dig through the bag. "I actually got a picture. I thought you'd might wanna see."

A thorough look at three felines lazing around in the sun is enough to convince him that the small joys of the world have not, in fact, evaded him.

"Okay, your turn," you say after tucking your phone back.

He gives a small 'hmm' in response, head turned down as he thought.

"Tell me something good, Steve Rogers."

He shouldn't be finding it as hard as he does.

"I've always wanted a dog," he settles on. "When I was a kid, all I wanted was a dog."

"You didn't have any pets growing up?"

"Not really, just a lotta strays I used to find along the way." More like Steve sneaking out several hours in a day with his food wrapped in an old handkerchief to feed some new alley cat he noticed while getting beaten up. "Closest we got to keepin' one was this Labrador. Guess his owners couldn't handle an older one so they just drove over to our town and abandoned him."

"Fucking dickheads."

"Yeah." The corner of Steve's lips lift. "We found him near our house. Called him Champ."

"What was he like?" Your chin rests on your palm as you listen intently.

"Lived up to his name." Steve shrugs. "Ma made him a vest out of an old shirt. I wrote our names on the back."

The smile on your face is infectious. "How long did he stay with you?"

"Not long. Couldn't really afford to keep one, so we searched for anyone in the neighbourhood who could take care of him. He left in a couple of weeks."

He neglects to mention how he never saw him again. Broke his whole heart, it did.

You told him to tell you something good.

So he follows it up with, "Buck tried throwing him a stick to fetch and he just sat there. Never tried again."

"What a king."

Steve exhales out a laugh. "My mom got real mad when we both showed up covered in dirt every day."

"How do you manage to convert everyone you meet into a vagabond?" you tease and Steve just shrugs, mouth stretching down in cluelessness. ""Did he grow on your mom?"

"Oh, she loved him. Wouldn't ever admit it, but I knew she was upset when he left. I told myself I'd never get one after that 'cause I'd never seen her that sad before."

As if Sarah didn't know exactly what her son was up to when he stowed half his breakfast into his pocket and left in a hurry. As if she didn't make sure there was an extra portion that she knew he wouldn't be able to finish, even if it meant giving up half of hers.

"Well, I think she would have wanted you to have a dog if you could," you say. "Maybe you could name him Champ."

Steve's mind ruminates over it for a few seconds. "Yeah, maybe."

Because the truth is, she would. Of course she would. Even if he had asked back then, even if things were a little difficult, she'd have found a way to do it for him.

"There's this picture of her I used to carry around with me everywhere."

Your head motions towards him in question. "Your mom?"

"Yeah." It sat on his mantlepiece until now, where it was back in his wallet.

Her in a white sundress, smiling brightly with her eyes squinted to avoid the glare of the sun. It was before he was born, the laugh line hadn't fully formed yet and her face didn't hold the same suffering it did in the years to come. His favourite picture of her.

"I had it in my wallet the night Ultron happened, and in the middle of that mess, it tore." He still remembers staring at it in the kitchen, knees bent over broken glass. The growing hole of despair in his stomach reassures him that maybe if he looked at it long enough it'd go back to normal. Maybe if he sits there enough he'll realise it never happened in the first place and the nausea rising to his throat was just the adrenaline wearing off.

But the call comes and the group has to reconvene and the photo, torn and jagged, finds its way back into his wallet for another day.

"Do you still have it?" you ask quietly.

"I do, yeah." He nods. "Uh... Tony got it fixed. Called it a birthday present and made me swear to never mention it again."

In exchange for not telling him how he knew about the picture in the first place, managed to sneak into his wallet and restore it without Steve ever knowing it left at all.

Your eyebrows slightly furrow. "I didn't realise y'all were that close."

"We weren't." Not really, not as much as the publicity team pushed it anyway. "But we had our moments."

In another world, they could have been friends. Respect certainly. Admiration, even, to a certain degree.

"He's my friend."

"So was I."

Steve trusted him. Would agree without a doubt that he was one of the greatest minds of the century, if not ever.

But what follows him on nights he can't sleep and days he spends thinking of things that could have been differently, is that Tony thought of him as a friend. And Steve, he thought... co-workers, acquaintances even, but friends--

He snaps his attention to you. "You got anything good to tell me?"

"I finally got around to deep cleaning my house," you say and Steve lets out a low whistle. "Yeah, I know right? Threw out all the garbage, got some new succulents."

"Who's watering them while you're gone?"

You pause. "The cute neighbour down the hall."

Steve's mouth lifts. "Cute neighbour, huh?"

"You know the one. You've heard him play the banjo when you stayed over."

"The banjo guy's watering your succulents?"

"Now when you put it like that." Your eyes narrow, eyebrows wiggling.

He doesn't notice it at first-- but there is a lightness that's replaced some of the fog in his mind. It feels almost foreign, sacrilege to admit that he does feel... better. Not good. But better than he had been earlier.

"You and banjo guy, me and the cabin owner." Steve turns to the flame that was beginning to die out. "Who woulda thought?"

"Hottest double dates in town." You poke at his leg with your stick. "They're really more cacti than succulents, so he isn't going to be over too often."

"That's a damn shame." Steve cracks a smile.

"I know." You sigh loudly in mock despair. "He plays at the community centre on Saturdays, guy's got a whole cult following on TikTok. The kids love him."

Steve didn't really try to keep up with the trends but he wasn't unaware of them. His Twitter page was mostly active, often cited as one of the most influential political accounts out there. He could tell when certain trends set in by the way his mentions would blow up, or the way his following would increase drastically. Most times it was better not to check.

"You know," he muses, "there's a whole generation of kids that hate me 'cause of the high school fitness videos."

You turn to him incredulously. "The what?"

Steve shuts his mouth.

Additional scene #2

The office is muted. Beige, white, cream. It's professional but not cold. It's calculated.

There's a table behind the swivel chair Dr Nasser sits on, but he hasn't seen her using it to date.

He's practically memorised the whole layout.

"How was your week?" she asks, clipboard balanced neatly on her leg.

Her hair was thin and pushed back behind her ears, and glasses hung from a chain around her neck. She had to be a few years younger than him, thirties he thinks, and she's got a warm look in her eye.

Steve shrugs. "Same old. How was yours?"

"It was good," she replies like always before looking back down at her sheet. "What do you mean by same old?"

“Woke up, met with people, go back home." Rinse, wash, repeat.

“So the schedule hasn't changed at all in this last month.” She finally writes something. It's rare, he never really gives her a reason to note anything down. “How are we looking on the 'time for yourself' front?"

“Lunch breaks, the occasional weekend," Steve says, picking apart the fake fern in the corner of the room with his sight. "Sometimes I pretend I’m sick.”

She cracks a smile at that. His lips quirk upwards, fingers intertwining and releasing themselves.

"Any updates on the yoga, meditation... anything of that sort?"

“Can't say there is." There are seven leaves. Last time there were eight.

“Have you met any of your friends?”

“Whenever I can.” Steve moves on to the pot in the other end of the room,

The doctor doesn’t show any sign of agreement or disagreement with his method. Only clicks her pen before looking back up at him.

"Are you comfortable Steve?"

He adjusts in his seat slightly. "I am, yes."

"I mean, during our sessions," she corrects gently. "Are you comfortable during our sessions?"

There are nine leaves in that one. Funny, there were eight last week.

"I am," he replies, one arm crossed over his chest while the other rest on the armchair.

"I'm asking because you've been coming here for weeks now, Steve, and all we’ve discussed so far is the weather."

"Cloudy today, isn’t it?” He gives her a wry smile.

She gives him a unaffected one in return.

It's not her fault. She was just doing her job, and unfortunately, got stuck with the world's most emotionally constipated man.

“Why are you here, Captain?” Dr Nasser asks finally.

“You know why, doctor.” Steve's cheek leans on his fingers, leaving behind indents.

“It’s a part of your deal, I know,” she says, “but why are you here?”

Steve’s smile is tight. “What would you want to hear?”

She writes down something on her notepad. Steve's nose twitches.

“Your actual reason why you keep coming back,” she says when she looks back up again.

Steve's brows pull together lightly at her implication, though he has no idea what it actually is.

“Why do you think I keep coming here?” he asks again.

Her head tilts. “I could name plenty of reasons why, but that’s not the point. It has to come from you.”

Steve observes her the same way she does him. A little guilt springs up in him-- she's been trying and he hasn't at all.

He clears his throat, glancing down for a second before back up. “I was told it’s the only way they’d let me come in.”

“To help with the aftermath, you said?” she clarifies, looking at the three total lines she probably had on him.

"Yes,” he replies. “Relocation, search and rescue for people missing after the battle.”

“Right, the Battle of Earth.” Dr. Nasser writes something down. He follows the movement of her pen. “We haven't talked in too much detail about that.”

He doesn’t know what’s there to talk about. Everyone knew what had happened, the details were there in a public forum. Articles upon articles, documentaries upon documentaries had been made in the few months since it had gotten over, and they were still pouring in.

So Steve asks, “What would you like to know?”

“Your side of it,” she responds. "I could read about the battle anywhere. What I’m interested in is your side, how you’re dealing with it.”

Steve wants to smile bitterly at the fact that she only knows what they wanted everyone to know, but he couldn’t tell her that either.

"I deal with it just fine, I think," he says distantly.

"What do you mean by just fine?"

If this was what one on one therapy was like, it's a wonder why he doesn't care for it much.

"Well--" he blinks-- "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you happy?"

"About?"

"The win," she answers. "Sad? Angry? How do you feel about the team's success?"

A win? The words rest so disgustingly on his shoulders, the weight of a double-edged sword like everything else in his life.

He got the serum only to watch the closest person he had to a mentor die in his arms. He went down with the plane only to be pulled out in a year he didn’t belong in. He fought a civil war to lose his team, the War for the Stones only to lose half the fucking planet, the Battle of Earth only to lose friends who had become family. He fought and fought and fought and over the years, he started losing himself like sand slipping through his fingers.

Steve didn’t know what win was without the burden of loss. He didn’t know happiness without tragedy, and like mortality and death, they found themselves inseparable.

“We tried our best,” he says. “I don’t think it’s up to me to judge whether we succeeded or not.”

She looks at him with a strange sort of expression, like she's deciding what to make of what he said. Trying to decipher him, like he's some puzzle to be solved.

“If I’m being honest, Steve,” she begins, “from what you've told me, it doesn’t look like you’ve given yourself time to process what happened.”

He did process what had happened and look where it got him. Dreaming of people long gone and stolen cake in army convoys.

“I’m not sure what’s left to think about, doctor.” His voice is level, methodical.

A quick glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

The doctor’s head tilted slightly, staring intently at him. “Do you feel restless, Steve?”

All the fucking time, like an itch at the back of his throat he can’t get rid of.

“Sometimes.”

“And what do you do when you do feel that way?”

“Walk around. Park’s open pretty early. There’s a gym a few blocks away.”

“Physical activity- does it help?”

“It does the trick.”

“Are you restless now?”

His fingers stop tapping against his thigh, tongue in cheek and wry when he asks, “Who, me?”

Her smile returns with the realisation that it may not have been the smartest question, head turned down.

"Why do you think you're restless?"

A glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

"Been that way since I was a kid."

She shifts in her seat, picking up her pen again. Steve's realises it's the first time he's let anything about his past slip.

"Why were you restless as a child?"

His back is still stiff against the futon, and there's thirty minutes to go.

"Had places to go, things I wanted to do," he replies unclearly.

"What's changed since then?"

Well, nothing, really. There were still places to go and things to do and to a certain degree he did want to do them. The rest was...

"My mom's not there to lock the door so I don't walk out at three in the morning."

The corner of her lip tugs up. "How old were you?"

"Seven? Maybe eight." Steve squints.

Either way, he started climbing out the window after that, so it wasn't like he was trapped.

"Where did seven year old you go at three in the morning?"

"Hung out with this neighbour kid of mine on the roof sometimes." Steve shrugs. "If it was during the day I'd go down to the store and spend a couple of hours."

"You'd spend hours at the... grocery store?" she asks, trying to clarify.

"There was a guy there I liked. He always thought I was annoying but he let me stick around." Steve smiles briefly, letting his other arm cross over his chest.

Other times-- most times-- it was with Bucky, who'd also climbed out on his fire escape to silence Steve's incessant rock throwing at his window. They didn't really have any place to go, so they did as any fifteen year old would do; jumped over the gate and into the park to skip some stones across the pond.

Steve's mind sharply wipes away the memory and his focus snaps back to the lady before him, one leg crossed over the other, arms resting on them.

She's already looking at him. He genuinely hopes he wasn't staring at her when he zoned out.

"You know, Steve," she pipes up when he doesn't say anything, "I don't know a whole lot about you even though this is our fifth session."

He exhales deeply through his nose, but his gaze is unwavering.

"But--" she looks down at the paper-- "this is the first time your answers don't seem so calculated."

Steve doesn't have any comment. He watches her twist to put aside the notepad on the table behind her.

"What does talking about the past make you feel?"

"At home."

Her eyebrows quirk up in the slightest, like she didn't expect an answer from him so soon.

"Feels familiar," he says further.

"Easy?" she offers.

He nods.

A glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

"Do you feel more connected to the past than you do with the present?"

Steve wants to get up and leave. There's still seventeen minutes to go.

"I don't know," he replies stiffly.

And just like that it's over.

There is tension in the air, mainly from his side because he knows to her, this had to be a breakthrough.

She reaches behind her to pick up the note pad again, clicking the pen against her thigh as she writes something down. Steve can feel a twinge of annoyance in him.

She finishes scribbling something. He can see she's halfway down the paper already.

"How do you feel about a little homework, Steve?"

Steve's eyes flick down to her notes and back up at her. “Haven’t really done any in the last century or so.”

"It's a small task," she explains, "just to let you embrace that part of you fully before we go forward."

Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Let's do this, shall we? Why don't you create a list of things that remind you of the past?"

"What kind of list?" His voice is a lot rougher than it had been a moment ago.

"Could be anything. List of people, places, things. If you wanna bring it in here next session too, that'd be great." She flashes him a kind smile. "What do you think?"

He thinks he's dug himself a grave here. He was having trouble enough as it was. He could already feel his mind slip past his tight grip and into a spiral.

"I'll try, I guess," he replies almost robotically.

It seems to satisfy her, though. He can tell from the look in her eyes that she’s only the littlest bit exhilarated at the crack in his shell.

“That was a lot, Steve,” she notes, leaning back slightly. “How are you feeling?”

A glance at the wall.

A note of the time.

"I feel fine," he says.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #mcu fic #steve fic #steve rogers fic #steve fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve angst #steve rogers angst #bridges break fic #captain america x reader #captain america fluff #captain america angst

[cringelordofchaos]

Flicker Eduardo headcanons!!

I know almost no one cares except maybe that one flicker fan scrolling through the flicker tag, but idc

(some of these are weird and stupid)

(also when I say "into ___" I don't mean it in a romantic or s##ual context btw)

pansexual demiboy, he/they, name means "Wealthy Guardian" (only thing canon in this post)

Into rock and heavy metal

Introverted

Into cryptozoology

Into 80's horror movies

Teenager, bout 16-18 y/o

Into werewolves

obsessed with stranger things

Deadname is Valentina (based on the fact that he was initially supposed to be called Valentina and have a different design)

Engages with risky (??) and rebellious behaviour

Divorced parents, father had abandoned both them and their mom and his infant sister

Hispanic

Used to be best friends with Alex, drifted apart and now Ed feels bitter Abt him

Not satanic but they are into studying satanism and people devoted to it

Atheist

Into murder mysteries

Quiet in groups at first until he gets to know others in the group better

Plays the guitar (both acoustic and electric)

Horrible at singing, still likes singing

Used to be in a band with Alex, Amethyst and Prasiddhi

Gets absolutely horrible grades in school besides in literature and Spanish

Theater kid

Dumb#ss nerd

Has sooo many earrings and necklaces

Obsessed with many bands (I can't specify which ones bc i don't know sh#t about music,)(actually screw it I'll name a few that my mom likes

Into Metallica, Radiohead, Queen The Door, and other crap like that (I only listen to Radiohead out of these)

Has one of his eyebrows pierced

Has wolf as their fave animal

Kinda insane (don't ask)

Into paranormal stuff

Brave

Determined and stubborn

Street smart

Skateboards

All about self expression

Known as the quiet kid or the weirdo in school

Likes to go outside at night

Halloween is their fave holiday

Quiet in relation to his negative opinions regarding others

Secretly a MLP + STH fan

Can get bored and distracted easily

Into parkour and tree + rock climbing

Spiritually in the 80's

A really good older sib figure

Attachment issues, fears being abandoned so sometimes they push other people away first, other times he is a bit clingy and desperate

Uses the peace ✌️ and rock 🤘sign quite often

Embraces weirdness

Will always protect and defend people he cares about

Can be kinda rude but also really kind?

Often does the chores in the house, kinda tired from that + schoolwork

Now that Alex isn't their friend anymore, they're just kind of the loner in their class (before he gets sent to the Flicker game)

When the flicker game first starts, he like most people just think it's a run, fake murder mystery game, but one night (a bitttt early on) when they were supposed to get killed they managed to flee and escape into the woods, everyone thinking he's dead

Always puts up a fight when needed

Used to crush on alex and still cares about him as much as he refuses to admit it

Swears a moderate amount

Winks often (ok these HCs sre getting very mundane... um)

Ends up getting along well with most of the flicker players

He constantly feels like HE has to work for everyone (like their mom, having to do chores and upkeep his grades), and although they're very loyal they're also reasonably tired

The start of the flicker game has actually been one of the happiest periods in his life in some time

Can be impulsive

Fidgets often

In classes they barely do anything

Master at solving Rubik's cube

Pretty chill most of the time actually

Into video games too, primarily indie horror and visual novel

Him and Rosalie bicker often

Really wants to be independent, competent and responsible to prove they don't need anyone

They give me Lucas Sinclair and Drew from TMF vibes for sum reason??

Is neurodivergent (bpd, adhd, maybe sumth else idk)

...

Wtf even is this... I'm literally the worst flicker fan to ever exist I'm so sorry

#roblox #rblx #flicker #roblox flicker #flicker roblox #headcanons #im so so sorry #flicker Eduardo

[leofrith]

in the mood for violence: 5 and 6?

5. worst discord server and why

in terms of servers i've actually been active in, it's gotta be the acc*ss the an*mus server. i'm sure it's still leagues better than the official ac server, which i daren't enter for anything other than checking what's in reda's item shop for the day. but i've found from personal experience (and that of some friends) that almost every big fan community for this fucking franchise will claim to be Not Like Other Girls (of the bigoted, gatekeepy, gamergate variety) before turning a blind eye to bullying, harassment, and bigotry within their own community. ata was no different, and while i did have some constructive conversations with people in there, the nastiness of some of the server members in there which went entirely unchecked made it not worth it. also, people will complain all day long about the stupid little problems they have with gameplay mechanics, etc. but the second you try to have a constructive discussion about ubisoft's many, many problems as a company, everyone is suddenly a ubisoft shill. ����

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

randivor shippers. 🧍🏻‍♀️ i say this as a (now, only occasional, due to exactly this kind of bullshit) randivor shipper myself, and this is only regarding the specific brand of fan that insists randivor is indisputably canon and then jumps down your throat for so much as implying otherwise. if that description doesn't sound like you, then congratulations! this isn't about you! if anything i'm about to say feels like a personal attack, then perhaps you should take a look inward instead of making it my fucking problem. i did already talk about this a bit here for a completely separate question because i got ahead of myself, but i totally understand the desire, especially for lesbians, for spaces that are entirely free of men. i do truly get it! but i'm sure you can also understand why the constant comments implying or just straight up saying that eivor "ending up" in a relationship with a man is the worst thing that could ever happen might make me, a bisexual woman who sees eivor as bisexual, feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. that's not even mentioning the straight up biphobia. there is a not insignificant number of randivor shippers who seem to think they're doing activism by calling anyone who ships eivor with men lesbophobic or misogynistic—eivor, the rpg character who can romance people of any gender for a reason. this behaviour, in my own experience, is enough of a pattern that any content i was working on for the ship is pretty much dead in the water at this point. i personally don't really feel like occupying space in a fandom where i've been blocked by a number of people who i've never directly interacted with, for no apparent reason other than the fact that i sometimes put eivor in "straight" relationships (that is something bisexual people do on occasion, btw. so so sorry about that. i've tried to grow past my manfucker tendencies but it just isn't working 😔) tldr: it's not fucking hard to have your lesbian headcanons while also being normal about bisexual people. take my hand. let me show you the way.

send me a number!

#OKAY THIS ONE GOT REAAAALLY LONG #like damn this really is the 'choose violence' ask game huh #i was getting increasingly pissy as i wrote this and it shows 🧍🏻‍♀️ #answer #aeide #ask games

[flock-talk]

Randomly saw ur post on my dash less than an hour after my friend shared this ss from a convo w her mom. LOL just a coincidence. Our first introductions to Mia btw, hope you both are well !

😂 I love that

Mia’s doing great, enjoying a toasty warm hair cave at the moment

((Hiding from her shame))

[86stagram]

🧀🐹💨brb 🙋‍♀️(Kunsei-ham's servant) Fresh fruits hamster (?)

My Pretty series life started with PriPara! I started watching anime first, and later started playing that game. subtitle from that time is '2014-2015 3rd live February' ; I remember getting the 'Valentine Zukyun skirt' 💖

I was familiar with PriPara than with Pretty Rhythm, but when there run I frequently used the QR codes from 'Fashionable items for use in PriPara : 1450'! I still keep both that & 2DS at home🏯 (2DS? You wanna know why? It's just little easier to scan QR codes on the 2DS than on the 3DS... and inexpensive)

The charm of clothing is what got me interested in Pretty Rhythm✨ But I didn't have much opportunity, I was very busy at the time...😢

I finished watching 'Rainbow Live' & began watch 'Dear My Future' in April! that's feel me so real & authentic anime...😭🙏(Tears of emotion and gratitude) ... some Japanese otaku use like 'real' or 'authentic' as a compliment, haha

Finally got around to watching DMF 11! There’s still a lot haha Sho... Someone Japanese said... 'ショウさん器が小(ショウ)さん' hahaha, yabai...🤣 He is small-minded. that's his one of charm. maybe🙄

and... I need to watch 'KinPri' because come the new movie in summer! I'm interested in that but I don't know past story yet. But I heard it's interesting! I haven't even finished watching all episode of the Pretty series yet, but I'm looking forward!

↓🎀Roni-ish coord (What do you think?)

Awww...

Bankrupt RONI... It's been 4 years and more since, but I still find painful emotions💔 Oh, RONI, with the brand's sleep, my PriPara dreams go to far way😭 I really hope they bring back the collaboration items from that time in adpara... no, no matter how much I wish, there are things which won't come true!

RONI's spirit lives in my heart, and I find joy in seeing Prizmmy☆'s members adorned in that designs at bonus footage👚👗🧥 kawaii✨

I'm planning to watch the DMF extras later because they're only on Blu-ray BOX. (Luckily, my family has that! Usually, I watch on streaming service. It's convenient, isn't it? Umm... That's it🐌😉)

🧡🐹🧡🐹🧡🐹🧡🐹🧡🐹🧡

( í Y ì )Gah! there are almost no SS of me wearing RONI at that time

I'm jealous!( í Y ì ) You guys have so many pic left

In case you were wondering, they are my friends(´Y｀) 🖤Xey 💜Suu 💚Refrain 🤎Netero!!! -with 3 exclamation marks

Netero!!!, her name means that 'go to sleep'💤 Her performance is incredible enough to knock out💤 : That's a setup for her character. and other name is meaningless. Umm... maybe

btw, the person who wrote this has many OCs. I've never seen anyone with more OCs than her. How many does she have❔❔❔🐹Let me see, maybe 60 over

~🎉~🎀~🔑~🐹~✨~🩰~💭

I will try challenge day by day!(日々精進) See you later!

#idol land pripara #pripara #pripara oc #RONI #illustration