#dangerwatson

Harry knows that he called Mary Jane, that he spoke with her even; he does not know what was said. His feet find their own way to MJ’s place --- a SANCTUARY, even now, even with everything collapsing around him. He goes to her because he is not sure where else to go, and whenever he feels like this ( sick with fear, he is sick with fear ), she is there. Mary Jane. Mary Jane. Mary Jane. 

He knocks on her door. ( He does not realize that he is still wearing the suit. Green, purple, kissed with red. The helmet, dropped somewhere after he began running, running, running, is missing. But the suit shines brightly still. ) His knuckles are bruised. He stops knocking on her door. 

appearance headcanons.

this is going to be a long-winded answer. sorry!

when he was younger and scrawny, he always felt too big for his body — like his vision of himself did not quite align with the rest of the world’s. he could picture himself: the crooked edge of his nose, the too-short fingernails, the cuts, the shag of his hair. but his clothes were always too big and his anger always too broad for his form. so when he got the serum, for a moment, it was finally like he was big enough to fit his features, to fit his insides. he felt aligned and strong and excited. 

he would break some ribs and laugh as they healed. he’d get a cut or get grazed by a bullet and feel high off how fast his body healed. nothing stuck to him. none of his old scars were there. his callouses were gone. all those marks from past sicknesses weren’t there either. it seemed like even the crook in his nose was a little straighter, although not fully healed. and then it hit him: nothing stuck to him. 

he woke up seventy years later, looking like he did back in world war ii. years went by. he still looked like that. didn’t matter what happened. didn’t matter how he changed inside — he still looked the same. and it’s led to this really odd issue of, once again, his perception of himself no longer aligns with how he looks ( or how other people view him ). he’s got some weird body issues of just…having trouble recognizing himself in a mirror. he tries not to think about it.

June 24 2019 – NEW YORK CITY

🎵MEME.

PONY / GINUWINE

* marvin gaye || let's get it on.

Harry had carefully choreographed five hours of the most heart-wrenching ballads, the most hip-bopping radio hits, the most classic of all rock songs ( that he only knew about half the words too, but dammit if he couldn’t mumble along with the rest! ). He had spent so long on the music that he had only gotten a total of about two minutes to pack the rest of his belongs --- so it was with A RUSH that he had thrown in his clothes into the trunk of the car, without the comfort of a bag. 

Four hours into their ROAD TRIP, he was --- maybe --- regretting his rushed packing. He tried looking through his small pile of clothes in the back. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, that sinking feeling of regret settled within his stomach. 

OFFENSE IS VERY CLEARLY TAKEN    by such an outrageous claim.   (   He has had a few doozies lobbed his way accusingly, but none quite so far fetched!    )    “    Not only is it impossible to find an unflattering angle of you, but I have also lost whole days posting pictures of you.    ”    Or at least, days spent laying in the gutter of some new york street to get the whole outfit in his shot. Not to be confused with his other days in some gutter, of course.    “    ——-    This is near heresy, lady.    ”