32. “what do you mean you’re not attractive whatthefuck”
“Why do you like me?” Adam’s voice cut through the dark of The Barns, exhaustion and the comfortable familiarity of Ronan next to him letting his Henrietta accent make an appearance. Adam had wondered what Ronan saw in him since the first time Ronan’s gaze had lingered too long, something Adam didn’t recognize in his eyes. Adam had since learned the expression as the same one Ronan wore for Matthew, for Opal, unguarded, unpostured: love. But still, Adam wanted to know why Ronan had chosen him. Adam’s question had been self-deprecating, once, but now it was simply curious.
“Who says I like you?” Ronan shot back, the words losing their would-be venom as he was mumbling into a pillow. Adam laughed, tangling their fingers together under the blankets.
“Whatever. If you did like me,” Adam punctuated this with an eye roll. “What would you like about me? I mean, I’m not attractive.” Adam knew this wasn’t necessarily true, that some people found the strangeness of his features beautiful, but he didn’t know what Ronan thought.
Ronan sat bolt upright at Adam’s words and surveyed him incredulously. “The fuck, Adam? What do you mean you’re not attractive whatthefuck! Do you own a mirror? I know you do, I’ve been to your shitty apartment, and there’s definitely a few at The Barns.”
Ronan’s reaction sent a flush through Adam’s cheeks, and he tugged Ronan back down to the mattress. “I’m not,” Adam protested. “Not like you or Gansey or Blue.”
Ronan snorted. “Jesus God, I’m glad you’re not attractive like Sargent. She’s not my type at all. As for what I like about you, I can think of a few things, I guess.” Adam closed his eyes as he listened to Ronan talk, feeling a smile spread across his face. They lay close enough that their shoulders touched, and Adam could feel the way Ronan’s body moved as spoke, gesturing. He could think of a few things he liked about Ronan, too.
Note: This is only part one, of who knows how many parts. I’ve been working on this for over a year, and have purposely avoided reading all variations on Captain America CS aus within the fandom. Dunno when the next part will be ready, but, well. This is a project near and dear to my heart. So it’s definitely not going to be abandoned. Shout out to @swallowedsong for encouraging me to post, @alchemistc who I’ve been telling about this for ages, and AU week in general for rallying us all together and inspiring so many wonderful works.
Title from the song “Dead Hearts” by Stars.
He wakes up fuzzy, warm and cold all at once, head pounding and tongue heavy in his mouth, like he’s swallowed sand that tastes like the worst toothpaste he’s ever tasted in his life.
He wakes up and he notices several things in quick succession:
The bed beneath him is strangely soft.
His clothes are strangely tight and unstarched.
The air feels stuffy and fake.
The game on the radio is several years old. He knows this because he was at that game with Liam.
He sits up and he knows—he knows that something is very, very wrong.
(The last thing he remembers is a plane, and cold, and water, and her and—
“I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.”
“All right. A week next Saturday at the Rabbit Hole.”
“You got it.”
“8 o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”
“You know I still don’t know how to dance.”
“I’ll show you how. Just be there.”
“We’ll have the band play something slow.”
He pulls himself out of his thoughts and glances up at the woman who’s just walked in. Something about her is off, too. Everything is wrong.
“Where am I?”
“A recovery room in New York City,” she answers with a smile. Her uniform is right—like the one he’d seen Emma wear (Emma) but—
The minimum story length for the Cap-IM BB is 25,000 words. Considering that I ended up with 120,000 words for the last BB and 110,000 words for the RBB this year, I thought it might be refreshingly different to try to write something that comes in closer to the minimum length. A smaller Big Bang, if you will. A bit of a break.
I don’t have it all plotted, but I started writing a few hours ago.
I have 2,000 words and Steve is not even in the story yet. Tony does not know Steve exists. No one has said Steve’s name.
Sitting down on the blanket, Hanamaki presents the basket full of food with a small ‘ta-daa!’ The others all give him confused looks, until Matsukawa reaches over and takes the basket. He takes the food out, placing it on the blanket as Hanamaki continues to beam.
“Is Makki okay?” Oikawa whispers to the other two, sending him a wary glance, “he seems…cocky, for some reason,” he mumbles, knowing that Hanamaki can hear him.
Ignoring Hanamaki’s offended gasp, Matsukawa shrugs his shoulders, “He probably ate something bad and is trying not to show that he’s in pain.”
“Well, whatever it is, I don’t care. Let’s just eat,” Iwaizumi says, pulling some of the food over to himself. The only one who doesn’t start eating right away is Hanamaki. Instead, he practically vibrates on the spot, eyes wide as he watches them take their first bites.
“Okay, I can’t eat with you staring at me like that,” Iwaizumi sighs, setting his food down.
“Well, I can, this food is fucking fantastic,” Matsukawa says, shoveling more food into his mouth. Oikawa hums in agreement, too busy eating to say anything.
“So, it’s good? Right? The food?” Hanamaki asks, eyes growing wide as he waits for their answer.
“Yes…it is. Why?” Iwaizumi asks, looking down at the food.
“You have to tell me where you bought this stuff,” Oikawa says after swallowing his bite of food, begging Hanamaki with his eyes.
A small laugh escapes Hanamaki’s lips as he reaches over, grabbing some of the food, “I didn’t buy it.”
“Well, then tell your mom she’s a fucking amazing cook,” Matsukawa says.
“Yeah, I would, if she was the one who made it.”
They all fall silent, all wearing different looks of shock and disbelief. “You mean…you made all of this?” Iwaizumi whispers in disbelief.
Hanamaki’s smile widens as he beams, nodding his head, “Yup! I stayed up till two in the morning!”
“Holy shit, Makki,” Matsukawa laughs, shaking his head. “I knew you could cook but damn.”
Hanamaki smiles even more (if that’s even humanly possible) and stuffs a cream puff in his mouth.
The four all fall into comfortable conversation, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. At one point, Oikawa wheezes so much that he starts to choke. Iwaizumi has to slam his hand on his back to help him. Matsukawa is the one to freak out when he starts to choke, so he throws his water bottle at Oikawa in hopes that it will help. By that point, Hanamaki is clutching his stomach, desperately trying to breathe as well.
That’s when the goose waddles over.
Iwaizumi instantly stops listening to Oikawa telling a tale of some alien dog story, and focuses on the animal.
Matsukawa sees the look that appears in Iwaizumi’s eye. “Iwaizumi,” he sighs, “please don’t provoke the goose.”
Of course, he doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs the food closest to him and slowly eats it. The goose honks, causing Hanamaki to look over and Oikawa to stop his story. They watch as the goose steps forward, honking towards Iwaizumi. In reply, Iwaizumi narrows his eyes and takes very slow bites of his food.
“Oh my god, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa says, placing a hand over his heart, “I can not believe you’re teasing an innocent goose!”
Iwaizumi only huffs, and continues to eat the food. He hates geese. So much. Fuck them, honestly.
“Okay, this poor guy, I can’t watch this,” Hanamaki says, digging through the basket until he finds some bread. He then hands some to Oikawa, and both of them turn their attention to the hungry bird.
“Guys, we’re not supposed to feed the animals-” Matsukawa, trying his hardest to be the responsible one for once, groans.
“No one will know,” Oikawa says as he tears the bread into small parts, shooting Matsukawa a smile that says ‘don’t worry about it.’
Matsukawa watches as Hanamaki and Oikawa begin to throw the food, and the goose honks happily as it gobbles up the food. “Wait, don’t feed it! It’s evil!” Iwaizumi hisses, glaring daggers at the bird.
Hanamaki rolls his eyes as he throws the last of his bread, frowning as he sees that they’re out of food. “You’re all pigs. I brought so much food…”
That’s when the goose takes another step forward, honking as if it was asking for more. “I’m sorry, little guy, we don’t have any more,” Oikawa apologizes.
“Little?” Matsukawa mumbles, raising an eyebrow.
Hanamaki suddenly stands up, waving his arms. “Okay, please go now! We fed you, we loved you, what more do you want?” he asks the goose, shooing it away. It honks in reply, reaching its head forward to nip at Hanamaki. With a squeak, he jumps back, barely dodging the beak. “Woah, hold on-”
None of them know exactly how it happens, but the next thing they know, Oikawa and Hanamaki are racing down the small hill to get away from the goose. One goose turns to two, then three, then there’s a whole flock chasing them around the pond.
“As much as I love watching this,” Iwaizumi says, watching as one of the geese strains its neck, nipping at Hanamaki’s ankle. The yelp is heard all the way where he’s standing with Matsukawa. “I think we should get going before it starts raining,” he says, pointing towards the sky. Matsukawa tilts his head upwards, blinking in surprise. When did those clouds get there?
Matsukawa watches as Oikawa squeaks in fear, scooping Hanamaki into his arms. He throws the male over his shoulder, gives one last look to the animals, and fucking bolts.
“Yeah, I have a feeling we lost them,” he chuckles, bending down to grab the basket. They both quickly pick up their mess before grabbing their stuff and jogging down the hill.
Only for the sky to open up, rain pouring down like tears. A curse passes through Iwaizumi’s lips, and he reaches out to grab Matsukawa’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “So I don’t lose you,” he mumbles, tugging him through the downpour. Matsukawa only smirks, but doesn’t say anything as he lets himself be dragged.
They search for a total of ten minutes before they stumble across Hanamaki and Oikawa basically holding each other up, bodies shaking violently with laughter. Iwaizumi quickly runs up to them, Matsukawa right behind him.
“You idiots are going to get sick,” Matsukawa sighs, shaking his head. He takes the still wet blanket from out of the basket, throwing it over their heads. Iwaizumi then places one hand on each other their backs, pushing them forward.
“Come on, Makki’s house it the nearest,” he says, glancing down at Hanamaki’s ankle. It’s bleeding from where the goose had bitten him, but it doesn’t seem too bad.
“Alright, you guys are so slow,” Matsukawa sighs dramatically, running a hand through his wet hair. He then, without warning, places an arm around Oikawa’s knees, and one around his back. He then lifts him up into him arms, and runs off, ignoring Oikawa’s squawk of disbelief.
Hanamaki rolls his eyes as he wraps the blanket around his shoulders, watching as they disappear into the distance. He glances at Iwaizumi, only to freeze. “No.”
“Yes,” Iwaizumi grins, reaching out. Hanamaki jumps back, only to slip on the wet ground. Iwaizumi grabs his wrist to keep him from falling, then yanks him forward. He then throws Hanamaki over his shoulder, and runs off after Matsukawa.
“I’m only allowing this because you have a nice ass!” Hanamaki shouts over the rain, eyeing said ass.
Excluding running away from geese and running through the rain, Hanamaki has to admit that it was a pretty good first date.
heLLO HELLO. The time has come once again for a follower forever as I’ve reached another milestone *^* I just want to say a hUGE thank you to @rapsae for making my gif banner c’: thank you so so much Sabrina it’s sO beautiful and 100x better than anything I could’ve made so I really appreciate that c: like did you see my last follower forever and that crappy banner????? That shit was pathetic omg but the colors on this one oh my its just a lovely masterpiece i am forever in debt to you c:
I recently hit 14k followers on here and I’m still kinda screaming about it?? actually i originally wrote this post like 2 weeks ago when i had 13.6k bc i just felt like doing this but i kept putting it off and it suddenly got to 14k and omg Not too long ago I took my first hiatus for about a week, and over that time I was given so much love and support and just sO many kind messages full of sweetness and genuine care for me that I really can’t thank you guys enough. I was sent daily messages from the incredibly sweet @yumjoonie about making sure I had a good day and that I didn’t rush myself to come back to the blog too soon and I just wanted to say thank you so much for those messages. It made me smile countless times c’:
I also want to say thank you for my blog being visited over 711k times like what the fuck you guys omfg my blog is trash oMG
For everyone who’s sent me either a single nice message or a dozen, everyone who tags me in super awesome and cute gif sets or photos, everyone who tags me in your beautiful stunning selfies, and everyone who just supports me and visits my trash blog;
❤ thank you so much ❤
**really quick I just want to tag a few people that I honestly really love so much and they make me smile on a regular basis and you should really check all of them out because they’re all just genuinely lovely people**
Alright. Here is the master post for my three clone OC sons. If you ever want to ask questions or talk about them to me. PLEASE DO.
Batchmates. Trio of ARCs.Work in perfect unison together. Almost seem telepathic to outsiders. Sanctioned by Jango himself.
Mischief (Captain) CT-8112 Visual: Built like a brick wall, for those so inclined, thicc might be a good word for him. Standard flat top haircut with three horizontal lines shaved into both sides. Has the same three lines tattooed over his heart.
Other descriptors: Very quiet. Only talks when necessary, or actually wants to talk (which is not often to anyone besides his batch brothers). Feels responsible for his two brothers. Very protective of them. Not technically a medic, but took as much training as possible knowing that the three of them would be on missions alone a lot of the time. Wanted to make sure he could care for them if either of them got hurt.
Rabble (Lieutenant) CT-6110 Visual: About as much of a runt as a clone can be. Almost a head shorter. Has an undercut, with the top being a bit longer and more uneven than traditional flat top. Has the three horizontal lines tattooed behind his left ear. Armor is cobbled together from many different parts. Sanded down to fit him because he is too small. Even hand sewn his own kama.
Extraordinary shot with any firearm but especially as a sniper. Can hit a target from further away with more accuracy that almost any other clone recorded. Loves to talk. Very good with knives (doesn’t like vibroblades). Has a set (or two) of throwing knives. Hones his knives in downtime to keep his hands busy. The noise is actually comforting to all three of them.
Ruckus (Lieutenant) CT-2509 Visual: Same height as most clones, but much leaner than Mischief. Has buzzed hair (less of a fire hazard) Missing an eyebrow (burned off and never grew back) Has the three lines tattooed as bands around his upper forearm just below the elbow.
Other descriptors: Demolitions. Very good. Can make a bomb out of almost anything. And can diffuse almost anything as well. Rabble teaches him to use the knives. They end up doing juggling and throwing performances for civvies when so inclined. Also learns basic medic procedures, knowing that Mischief did as well. Has a dry wit but also loves innuendo.
Tony Stark is born in 1940. The first thing he remembers is the death of Captain America. Growing up, he makes his way through a rapidly-changing world, a world shaped by Captain America’s absence – but he couldn’t have ever imagined the path that his life would take.
My last fic for my Cap-IM Bingo card (the square is that v3 panel of Tony dressed as Cap), a story where early canon is actually the 1960s, for once. Thanks to @einheriar, @teatotally, and @somnolentbear for their help.
i actually have an AO3 but i’m too lazy to put anything up there shhh
anyway, here’s the first story for this kylux modern witch/vampire au my friend @waluouija-board and i created, based off the works of @space-emos and probably several other talented artists/writers (please!!! tell me who they are so i can tag them appropriately!! i’d hate to leave anyone out) :)
in which hux is a pretentious vampire asshat and kylo is a clueless awkward witch (basically, no one will room with hux bc of his weird-ass sleeping habits, so he puts an ad out in the local newspaper and kylo accepts bc it’s cheap af. kylo is an actual witch but he hides behind the ‘new age-y’ guise to keep his cover. i’ll elaborate on this later i promise)
i hope this makes sense
thanked the landlord and accepted his keys, shouldering his backpack
and heading up the stairs to his new apartment. His roommate was some
guy called— Arthur? Archie? Armitage— yes, Kylo thought it was
Armitage— Hux. Hux had advertised for someone to share his
apartment with, preferably someone who could deal with ‘late nights
and a tendency to sleep in’. Kylo didn’t mind— he had a part-time
job at the local second-hand bookstore, which granted him odd hours
anyway. This Hux guy staying up late wouldn’t bother him in the
had reached the first floor of the apartment, and he wandered along
the landing until he found the door— 14C, the one at the very end.
Kylo had picked that one out specifically for his plethora of
potted plants (mainly edible herbs, though he wouldn’t admit it
under pain of death; there was a certain element of mystery to random
smelly plants everywhere, he thought), which he could leave on the
windowsills. He hoped Hux wouldn’t mind.
he neared the door, Kylo felt something in the air change. He stopped
walking and frowned. He glanced around; nothing on the landing was
out of place, so why did he feel so… off? Kylo shook his
head, reaching up to fiddle with his necklaces, clutching at the
stones— crystal and amethyst this time, for clarity of mind and
awareness of his surroundings. He took a deep breath and turned the
key in the door, swinging it open.
apartment was darker than he expected, especially for one with such
large windows. Kylo stepped into the foyer, which was connected to
the kitchen. It was a very nice apartment, he thought to himself;
when he’d first seen it online, he hadn’t bothered looking at the
price, thinking it was miles out of his range. A second glance proved
him wrong, but Kylo was still skeptical— maybe the lights didn’t
work, or there was no air conditioning. There was no way something
this nice could be so cheap.
kitchen was probably bigger than his entire previous apartment— a
huge island in the middle, oven, dishwasher, cupboards— all the
essentials, and very nice editions of said essentials, too. One of
those huge industrial-grade fridges that was big enough to hide a
body upright in (and probably dispensed ice). Kylo craned his neck
and saw the living room; unsurprisingly, it too was very well
furnished, with expensive-looking chairs, a coffee table, a
flatscreen television and a couch.
wondered suddenly where his roommate was, then chided himself— Hux
was probably sleeping, if his ad had been at all accurate. The thick,
drawn curtains and switched-off lights supported this. Kylo cleared
Uh, it’s Armitage Hux, right?” He walked into the kitchen,
pulling his suitcase along with him.
sorry for waking you up… if you’re um, asleep. I’m your new
came a voice. Kylo jumped, his gaze snapping over to the hallway next
to the living room.
young man stood in the hallway, not much older than Kylo. He had a
shock of red hair and narrowed blue-green eyes, and wore a dress
shirt and trousers. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Kylo
intently. Kylo swallowed. Something about this guy made him nervous,
though he couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps it was the way he looked
at Kylo like he was a piece of meat, and not a human. Kylo swallowed
must be Hux.” He put his hand out. Hux didn’t take it.
you must be Kylo.” Hux had an accent that Kylo couldn’t place.
He lowered his hand, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
This is a… really nice apartment,” Kylo tried awkwardly, still
a good twenty feet away from Hux. He wanted to keep it that way—
his roommate gave him the creeps. Hux nodded.
is. I expect you to keep it clean, or I will remove whatever is
causing the mess. That includes you.”
blinked. “Um, okay. I’ve got some plants, but they’re the
will be fine,” Hux interrupted, still staring at Kylo. His hair
was very distracting— combed perfectly into place and very, very
bright— Kylo wondered if he used dye.
lips quirked up in a smirk; Kylo caught a glimpse of one, very long
fang tooth. His eyes widened.
men shared a drawn-out silence.
took a deep, breath, trying to pinpoint why he felt so… on edge
(maybe it was the teeth? Normal humans didn’t have teeth like that,
Kylo was sure of it). If Hux wasn’t going to tell him, he’d have
to find out himself.
bit his lip and concentrated, reaching out with his mind, like he’d
practised countless times with his uncle, Luke. He felt the edges
Hux’s mind and pushed gently against it, expecting to find
resistance, but, curiously, detecting none. Kylo sucked in a breath
as the realisation came to him in a rush; he withdrew from Hux’s
mind as quickly as he could and grabbed the kitchen counter for
support. No way. No way in hell—
looked over at the hallway, expecting to find Hux there. But his
roommate was gone.
shrieked and stumbled away from Hux, who was suddenly inches from his
ear. He felt himself slipping, falling, and landed on the kitchen
floor with a grunt, scrambling back, as far away from Hux as he could
manage. Hux, on the other hand, didn’t move, although his lips
twisted into a smirk again, wider this time.
were— you were i-in the hallway,” Kylo stammered, putting a
hand over his heart, which felt like it was about to jackhammer its
way out of his chest. “You were in t-the hallway b-but you—”
yes, fantastic observation,” Hux told him dryly. “And
from your somewhat obvious intrusion of my mind I’m sure you’ve
put the pieces together, yes?” He gazed at Kylo cooly, watching
as the young man picked himself up off the floor with a huff. Kylo’s
jaw dropped open.
knew… you knew I was reading your mind?”
snorted. “Of course. I know a witch when I see one.”
began a string of protests, then stopped when he saw Hux’s face.
Clearly, this man couldn’t be fooled easily.
you’re a vampire,” Kylo cringed at himself even as he said it.
It was so ridiculous, so impossible… And yet, here Hux
stood, pale skin, fangs, inhuman speed and all, right in front of
him. Kylo shook his head, wondering if he was hallucinating. Hux
nodded, interrupting his thoughts.
And you’re a witch.”
coughed awkwardly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.” He touched
his necklaces again, hoping the stones would give him peace of mind.
had moved again; Kylo found him on the couch in the living room, legs
crossed, staring at him again. Hux motioned for Kylo to sit. Kylo
walked over and sat, leaving his suitcase and backpack in the
leaned forward and laced his fingers together, eyes not leaving
Kylo’s face. He felt himself flushing red and looked away
met a few witches,” Hux murmured, “But not in the
twenty-first century. You’re so different from the others…”
He reached out as if to touch Kylo’s cheek, then pulled away, the
odd look in his eyes gone.
uhm, I’d better get my stuff unpacked,” Kylo stuttered,
standing up quickly and hitting his knee on the coffee table in the
process. He cursed under his breath and hobbled back to the kitchen,
calling out, “Is the bedroom down the hall?”
received no reply.
more curses under his breath and a mental note to hex his new
roommate the first chance he got, Kylo dragged his suitcase down the
hall, feeling Hux’s eyes on his back as he went.
A year after their captivity, Steve and Tony reclaim the rest of their lives together.
This is an epilogue to Living on Your Breath, the Cap-IM Reverse Bang story that I wrote for @phoenixmetaphor‘s excellent art. While I had a lot of fun writing the RBB, I acknowledge that I put the characters through massive, massive amounts of pain. So this is some of the kinky happiness that I think Steve and Tony are owed by the end of the story. (Also there’s a bit more h/c, because I couldn’t resist setting this during Red Zone. Phoenix did ask for more Avengers v3 fic!) Thanks to @blossomsinthemist for beta.
This is an Allydia fic for @selfignitingargent, who was one of the winners of the contest that I held a few months ago! (yes, i’m finally getting around to finishing all of those prizes, i’m sorry i know i suck) I hope you like it, love :)
Set in the canon universe, except that Allison
survived high school and there aren’t several mile-high buckets of sexual
tension between Stiles and Lydia.
Prompt: “Allison and Lydia are going on their first holiday together out of the country. Lydia is petrified of flying, but Allison doesn’t know until they get on the plane, since she loves flying so much. When the plane takes off Lydia freaks out so Allison calms her down and lets her snuggle up to her for the rest of the flight.”
“So, Italy or France?”
Lydia doesn’t bother looking up from her phone. “Italy.
French desserts are too dangerous. If I ever went there, I’d gain, like, ten
pounds. Why do you ask?”
Allison laughs softly, a whoosh of air that gets Lydia’s attention.
“Did you forget?”
“One-year anniversary? I just got an awesome scholarship
for my college tuition next year so my dad’s giving me a vacation fund? We
agreed that Europe was pretty much the perfect place to go to spend it?”
Lydia’s mouth goes dry, but she keeps her smile pasted on.
“Oh. Right. Of course I remember that.”
“Of course.” Allison laughs again. “It’s okay,
I don’t blame you for forgetting. I did ask you while you were in the middle of
studying for a ‘major’ chemistry test that you ended up acing, if I remember
Lydia huffs, checking her phone again like she’s actually
upset. “Well, that’s what you get for bothering me while I’m studying,” she says primly. “I
definitely do not remember having
that conversation, but I’m sure I did ace that chemistry test. I aced all of
“Yes, I remember. So, now that you know what I’m talking
about, Italy or France?”
Lydia bites her lip, crushes the fabric of her dress in her
hands, and says, “If we’re actually going, then France. You speak the
Allison raises her eyebrows. “You speak Latin.”
Lydia parts her lips, squints her eyes, and tilts her head,
striving for normalcy. “Archaic Latin,” she corrects her. “Not
the same as Italian.”
“Yeah, but you could probably learn Italian in
approximately three weeks if you wanted to.”
Lydia inhales and tilts her head to the other side,
considering Allison’s statement, before saying, “True. But I don’t want
to. Listening to you speak French is much hotter.”
Allison leans down, her hair falling in a curtain on either
side of their faces. “Mais il y aura les desserts français,” she whispers.
“If you really love me, you won’t mind if I gain ten
pounds,” Lydia responds just as breathlessly, and then she closes the gap
between them with a kiss.
After a few minutes of making out, Lydia actually convinces
herself that she can do this for Allison. She can go to Europe. She can get in
a plane —
into more than one plane, taking connecting flights into account — and fly to Europe.
First time actually posting something I wrote on this blog. It feels weird. Not my best work, but I wrote it in about 30 minutes bc I love @onefabulouspokemon very much. This is more like a drabble/scenario type of thing.
Title is from a Hedley song I’ve been loving lately.
You were casually enjoying one of your favorite dramas on your laptop when the storm had started. You didn’t even know it was supposed to rain, but then again, it wasn’t very surprising with the kind of weather your city had been getting lately. Even then, no matter how many storms hit, you couldn’t help but be scared everytime. There was something about storms that made you afraid. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but something in the way the lighting cut abruptly in the darkness caused by the clouds made you nervous, and you couldn’t keep from yelping everytime a bolt shot from the sky.
It’d been 10 minutes since the storm had started, and it didn’t look like it was about to stop. You were buried under a pile of blankets, earbuds in your ear and phone clutched in your hand. You were silently humming to BTS’s I Need U when it vibrated twice. You opened your eyes to see it was texts from your boyfriend, Wonwoo.
Wonwoo - “It’s pretty bad outside.”
Wonwoo - “U okay?”
You sighed. You didn’t want to worry him - the poor guy was practically tied to his bed in order to get better and be able to promote with the guys - but the storm was not getting better either. You sighed and typed quickly.
You - “Not really. Don’t worry tho. I buried myself in blankets & I’m listening to some music.”
You hit send and turned your head just enough to take a peak at your window. It turned out to be a bad idea, as lighting chose this exact moment to strike, apparently not too far from where you were. You jumped so bad you almost fell out of bed, and ended up with your face smashed in the mattress under your pillow. You felt your phone vibate again, and while you had no desire to open your eyes, you knew it would be your favorite rapper.
Wonwoo - “Im coming over”
You - “no you’re not, oppa. You’re sick”
Wonwoo - “and you’re scared. Open up im here”
You sighed, but got up nonetheless. You walked over to your front door, three blankets still wrapped over you, and simply unlocked the door before going back to your room. Your heard that slight annoying click the door handle made when someone twisted it a little too much to the right, followed by the sound of pouring rain and distant rumbling. That only made you walk faster and throw yourself on your bed.
There was a moment of silence, then someone untangled the blankets from you and crawled under them to hold you. A pair hands delicately tugged on your earbuds, took your phone from your clenched fingers and gently set them aside on the nightstand. You turned into Wonwoo’s chest and held on to his slightly humid sweater. He must’ve brought a coat, and left it in the hall. You didn’t even say a word, just cuddled up to him and sighed at his familiar warmth.
“I left as soon as the storm started.”
“You’re an idiot. You shouldn’t have left your house, oppa. What if you catch a cold? Nobody will be happy about this. I don’t want you to be more sick because of me.”
You whined gently, but your arms had already found their place around your boyfriend’s waist, the faint smell of his soap tickling your nose through the fabric of his clothes.
“It’s okay.” He said. “I want to be here for you, jagi. I know how this type of weather scares you, and I knew you’d probably be alone tonight. I couldn’t let you be scared and alone.”
You were about to protest, probably just out of form, when another lighting bolt startled you, causing you to hold on tighter to Wonwoo. You whimpered a little, almost inaudibly, but he still heard you. Wonwoo’s hold on you tightened, and his hands found your hair and started playing with it. He started talking, telling you about his fairly uneventful day, reminiscing about the boys, anecdotes you both had and hadn’t heard before. He kept his voice low, soothing, and never stopped stroking your hair.
Time passed slowly. The storm didn’t stop, but your fear started to fade, at least for now, into a pleasant calmness. You closed your eyes.
“Thank you, Wonwoo. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
You were almost asleep when you felt a pair of lips brush your forehead.
If you like stories about Steve and Tony and psychic wolves but you’d rather read about wolves when they’re called волки instead, then you will probably be happy to hear that Like a Comet Streaming On has been translated into Russian, as Бесконечный бег кометы. Thanks, Irmie!
Fitz's Triskelion buddy in our headcanon was among those who flew the Theta Protocol helicarrier to Sokovia! Headcanon solidifies!
Yes he was! Actually, in my post I simply wrote “this guy” but THIS GUY has a name and it’s Cameron Klein! For those of you playing at home, Cameron Klein’s grandfather was Stanley Klein, a soldier that fought alongside Captain America and the Howling Commandos at the Battle of the Bulge. I actually have a lot of headcanons about Cameron and Sharon Carter (and Trip), and that Cameron was one of the few people who knew of Sharon’s family history.
I mean, when he stood up to Rumlow it was pretty darn awesome. But knowing a little more of his backstory gives that moment just so much more poignancy. :)
An addendum to that post
about Illya in the writer’s notes
So I’ve noticed a bunch of reblogs of my post about Illya being described as “jealous” of Napoleon’s luck with women in a later version of the writer’s notes by people arguing that perhaps this was the “original” vision for Illya’s character, which didn’t make it to screen because David McCallum chose to interpret the character differently. But that theory misses a bunch of crucial context about the actual quote (which should’ve been implicit in the post as I wrote it, but which may not have been as obvious as I thought, possibly because it required people to click on the links to other posts relating to the subject) which I’d like to try and clarify.
Unfortunately, tumblr seems to be doing something really weird with reblogs of that post, so reblogging with a reply is unlikely to be seen. So I’m making an extra post here and tagging the folks who I’ve seen discussing that in the reblogs: @theparadoxmachinee-blog@aconitum-napellus@vintagetvfan
Alright, to clarify:
The version of the writer’s notes this came from were from season 2 or later. Heitland doesn’t say whether the edition he referenced came from S2 or perhaps S3 or 4, but describes them as “The later writer’s notes” specifically in reference to how the production bible was revised after the first season.
This only gets weirder, because from S2 onwards, we know the writers were also being given explicit instructions not to have Illya show overt interest in girls. You can see quotes from a memo from Norman Felton himself to this effect here (again, this was linked in the original). So this take on Illya’s character directly contradicts not only what was on screen, but other advice the writers would have been getting in the same phase of production.
For comparison, we do actually have much more extensive extracts from the real S1/pre-production notes, and there is no way this was part of any “original plan” for the series. Heitland’s book talks extensively about all sorts of plans for the series that didn’t make it to air, and nothing of the sort comes up. Very little was planned regarding Illya’s character at all – his bio
was the shortest in the prospectus, and David McCallum has commented again and again that he wasn’t given anything more than that to go on when
he was cast for the role.