NAME: Haley NICKNAME: Hakey, because one day my boyfriend’s phone decided to start autocorrecting my name to that. SIGN: Aquarius HEIGHT: 5′ 4″ NATIONALITY: American (USA) ORIENTATION: Bi? FAVOURITE FRUIT: Cantaloupe FAVOURITE SEASON: Fall, not even a contest. Particularly that time just around Halloween. FAVOURITE FLOWER: Snapdragons. FAVOURITE SCENT: Incense, Books, Fall, Chocolate, Apple. FAVOURITE BOOK: Harry Potter Series, Good Omens, Heroin Diaries, The Dirt FAVOURITE COLOUR: Wine/Blood red FAVOURITE ANIMAL: Snakes for a real animal, dragons for a fantasy animal. COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Chai Tea. AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Average 6-7, desired, 8-9.
CATS OR DOGS: Both.
NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH: One.
DREAM TRIP: Ireland, Italy (Venice), Jamaica, India, Germany, Cairo. BLOG CREATED: Like two years or so ago. NUMBER OF FOLLOWERS: 88
My actual birthday was a couple of weeks ago, but I just gathered up the courage to come out as a demiguy and ask for male pronouns yesterday, so that's kinda like a second birthday? I come bearing macrophages I specially gengineered to help keep the Blood Pit nice and fresh.
OH, THE BIRTHDAY IS SO PROUD OF YOU RIGHT NOW. THE BIRTHDAY CAN BARELY EXPRESS ITS JOY AND PRIDE AND HAPPINESS FOR YOU, THAT YOU ARE TAKING SUCH STEPS TO BRING YOUR TRUE SELF INTO THE GLORIOUS DARKNESS OF OUR NEVER-ENDING NIGHT. THE BIRTHDAY APPLAUDS YOUR COURAGE, AND HOPES YOU KNOW HOW INCREDIBLE AND WONDERFUL YOU ARE.
THE BIRTHDAY ALSO REALLY APPRECIATE THESE MACROPHAGES. AREN’T THOSE LOVELY? THE BIRTHDAY WILL KEEP THEM IN THIS JAR, AS IT BOTH WANTS TO KEEP THE UNION EMPLOYED, AND IS UNDERSTANDABLY CONCERNED ABOUT THINGS THAT HAVE BEEN DESIGNED TO BE ALIVE AND DO THINGS TO BLOOD. MANY OF THE GUESTS AT THE BIRTHDAY STILL CONTAIN BLOOD. SHOCKING, WE KNOW!
HERE IS YOUR SEAT AT THE TABLE. HERE IS YOUR STACK OF “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BIRTHDAY BOY” CARDS WITH APPROPRIATE DATES, GOING BACK AS FAR AS YOU NEED THEM TO. HERE IS YOUR CONICAL HAT.
WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY. WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY. WELCOME TO THE BIRTHDAY UNENDING.
If you're taking prompts would it be out of line to ask for military sci-fi AU Tony/Steve?
This is probably not at all what you were thinking.
Commander Stark is watching him again.
Steve doesn’t care about that - he’s spent the first half of his life as an invalid, a sickly defective who only survived the rigorous Population Control because his mother and her fellow Seacoles risked their lives to hide him and dozens of other defectives away. And he’d spent years after that trapped behind glass in a PopCon gengineering lab while they slowly manipulated him into their physical ideal, a super-human they could hold up to the masses as an example of their ideal. He was used to be stared at. Frankly, Stark’s curious side-ways glances were harmless. And kind of nice.
And if Stark’s eyes occasionally drifted to Steve’s ass or thighs or abs and lingered a moment or two, well. That was kind of nice too.
Steve had considered just going over and introducing himself. He and Stark had something in common after all. They were both from Terra Colony 616, they were the same age, and they were both biding time here on Farspace 5 waiting till The Avenger came into port. The similarities ended there - Stark was the new Chief Engineer and Steve was going to be head of Security. Steve was on the command track while Stark was apparently content to just become CE on newer and more advanced ships every few years. Tony Stark had fled TC 616 on a luxury stellar transport with a fake ID and a billion stolen credits in his pockets and Steve had been smuggled out inside the exhaust vents of a cargo cruiser, biting his lips raw to keep from screaming with the withdrawal pangs as the newest strain of serum worked it’s way out of his system and his two best friends begged, bartered, and bribed their way past the barricade at the edge of the solar system.
Not all that much in common. But they’d both ended up on TC 20051. They’d both found their way to the Star Corps.
It was more than Steve had with anyone else. His mother was dead, killed in the PopCon raid that had resulted in his three year long captivity. Bucky and Peggy were gone back to TC 616 to carry on the rebellion.
And Steve was… here. Free. Healthy. Stronger than he’d ever been. And alone.
He raised his head from his drink and caught Stark staring. The man blinked a little, then offered Steve a crooked, amused grin, completely unrepentant to be caught staring.
Fuck it. Steve had three more days till The Avenger made port and it would be nice to start his new duty with a friend at his side.
He grabbed his drink and strode over to Stark’s table. “Lieutenant Steven Rogers,” he said, offering Stark his free hand. “I hear we’re going to be crewmates.”
Stark stood and took his hand in a firm clasp. “Commander Tony Stark,” he said with a cocky grin, “but you probably knew that already.”
“Is that your name?” Steve said easily. “When Commander Hill pointed you out to me she said you were called that enormous ego with legs. Tony’s a lot easier to say, though.”
Stark threw his head back and laughed, his hand gripping Steve’s wrist tightly. “Oh, Lieutenant,” he said. “I’m going to like you.”