#BLOOD SHOT AU

[unikhroma]

spamton remembers something he did

this is part of the blood shot au

[zosanbrainrot]

PART 4!!

01 02 03 04 05 06

I stg I'm kicking yall in the shins one last time, we're ALMOST done with the angst!

Let me tell you I had this finished(!) twice(!), but no, I had to go back and change it lmao

In my first go the fight scene was much more rough, it was hard for me to draw from the beginning, I'm not really good at this sort of thing. So I took a little break from the comic and when I got back to drawing the last two panels (static ch close ups) they turned out so GOOD and CRISP! I just had to go back and redraw the previous ones. Didn't change the composition back then, just made the drawings less sketchy and fixed minor mistakes. This panel in particular went through bigger fixes, I couldn't get the pose right:

I emphasized the arch in Zoro's back so it's more clear he's hunched over, the head is lower, and the hand on his stomach wasn't looking good, so I switched its direction and I feel it looks more natural now. The whole pose is shifted to the side now, whereas in the previous ones it was more straight up, but I wasn't conveying perspective well.

So after that I had it all exported, loaded into drafts and as I scroll it on my phone I'm like... There should be one more panel where Zoro's getting kicked : | Imma need to change it AGAIN.......

It just didn't flow well. I work on the comic in chunks so I haven't put these panels together before, I always saw them side by side in my main file.

I just didn't like how you go from Zoro getting kicked to him being thrown, it just felt disjointed to me.

So first I looked through the three sole volumes of BNHA that I have at home to maybe understand drawing fight scenes just a little bit better. That's how I got to the new version of Zoro getting kicked so there's more lines showing movement etc. but most importantly you have the kick and Zoro's reaction separate. So now Zoro's face has a bigger closeup, you can see his open eye.

In the previous version it was more distant, the closeup wasn't as big and you couldn't see his expression well. With just the side view you could only see he's in pain but nothing more than that,whereas when you have a full view of his face you can get much more from that. You see where he's looking, you know he's looking at Sanji when he kicks him in the guts.

I guess that's why, in the first version, I was trying to still show his face where he's being thrown off of Sanji bcs I felt the side profile wasn't doing it's job, but at the same time it felt off, like there was less force in the kick bcs his head wasn't following the movement idk. Also he was def too big in the frame. So now Zoro's smaller to emphasize the perspective more, the head is down, the right arm is more to the side and there's more lines, the flame is more aggressive now and bursts into the sides when it comes in contact with Zoro's body to show the impact. I know they could be better still, but this is the best I can do right now and I'm happy with the result!! I'm glad I kept pushing it! These poses were VERY confusing to draw lol

Alsooo, it would make more sense if Sanji threw Zoro in the other direction, over his head like in karate/judo, but I wanted to keep my directions consistent. I had to have Sanji standing back to the carriage, so he doesn't notice the spear being thrown and Zoro facing the carriage so he can get hit from the front, right after he gets up. It's like..... did he not see it? Did he get hit on purpose? You decide lmao

Though I'm probably too rigid with my 'camera', in BNHA you see the action from any and every direction, i guess it adds to the dynamism of it all, also there's just many MANY more panels in manga lmao

Judge giving me major "isn't there somebody you forgot to ask" vibes at the end there lmao I hope you forgot he's even there and this comes as a surprise!

[factual-fantasy]

As soon as I got done drawing the refences for my Slime Rancher submas AU, I turned right around and got to work on Ingo's disappearance arc XDD

I'm thinking how the story goes is Ingo, Emmet and Elesa came to the far far range out of their love and interest in the slimes that live there. They truly had a passion for this planet and wanted to explore and learn everything about it.

Now Elesa was super invested in the gadgets and life on the ranch, while Ingo and Emmet were big on the exploration side of things..

One day while the brothers were out exploring they discovered a new area covered in curvy pink trees..

For a while they explored together, but at some point they split up. Looking back Emmet doesn't even remember why they separated.. he wishes he never left Ingo's side..

About an hour passed when Emmet started look for Ingo. When he couldn't find him right away he tracked him on his Rotom. Following the signal he found a hole in the ground leading to an enormous cave..

At the bottom of the cave laid Ingo's abandoned Rotom, and a trail of blood leading to an old broken teleporter.. Ingo was nowhere to be found..

...

I would love to draw more for this AU right away! Though it might be wise to take it easy somewhat. This was a lot more drawing and backgrounds than I'm use to.. 😅😅 Either way don't worry! An Ingo and Emmet reunion hug is on its way! XDD

[wanologic]

they’re just a little bit competitive

[rhyshh]

In the mad dog au if bigb still betrays cleo im tearing tumblr apart /silly

Some things don't change

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer of plucked out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[birdsong-warriors]

Whoops, delayed upload! I've had COVID, lol.

Firefall belongs to @zeekitties , and Sunflower belongs to @talkingtalltales !

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Part 1: Friend and Family

See up to thirty pages ahead, with timelapses, on Patreon!

Backgrounds, brushes, and other assets for sale on my Ko-Fi!

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Thriller

@wolfstarmicrofic July 2, word count 989

CW- Blood, guns, gunshot, open wound

Sirius darted down side streets and into alleyways. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving as it dragged oxygen into his exhausted body. Pounding footsteps approached. He ducked down behind the small rubbish bins, clamping his hand over his mouth, so his rapid breathing didn’t give him away. 

Multiple footsteps ran past his hiding place, but one set lingered, turning into the alleyway. Sirius took a few steadying breaths and tensed his muscles, ready for action. The person came closer, kicking the bins out of his way. There was only one bin left between them. With all his remaining strength, Sirius kicked the bin, knocking his pursuer to the ground. He launched himself over him, catching a glimpse of his face on his way past. The man’s mask had slipped. It was Regulus. Fuck! Sirius took off running the way he’d come, the others long gone. A shot rang out behind him as he sped around a corner. It just missed him, ricocheting off the wall right where his head had been a second before. Regulus never missed. What was he playing at? Sirius didn’t hang around to find out.

He laid low until he could get to the safe house. When he finally felt it was safe, he made his way there, making sure she wasn’t followed. A grizzled man was waiting for him. He held a gun to Sirius’s temple while he searched him and took the flash drive from his pocket. 

“Congratulations, Black. You managed to not fuck up an assignment or get killed doing so,” Moody grunted at him. 

“Regulus was there,” He told him. Moody took a deep breath and growled. 

“Did he make you?” He spat through his teeth. 

“I don’t know. I threw a bin at him and ran. He took a shot, but he missed and you know he never misses his target.” Moody grumbled something under his breath that Sirius didn’t catch. 

“We’re going to get you a partner for your next mission. Ah, no, I don’t want to hear it, Black,” He said when Sirius tried to protest. “If Regulus is caught up in this then it’s too dangerous to send you out alone. He knows how you think, how you move and how you fight. You’ll be a liability we can’t afford to have.” Sirius gritted his teeth, but he knew it was for the best. 

“Who do you have in mind?” He blew out. Resigned to his fate. 

“New lad. Ridiculously smart. Calm in a crisis. Perfect balance for you and your chaos.” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Has Mr Perfect got a name then?” 

“Remus Lupin,” Moody grinned a toothy smile. Sirius felt a chill wash over him. 

Remus Lupin turned out to be a tall, skinny, well-spoken man who shouldn't have been anywhere near all this.

 Moody had them train together. “I want you to know each other inside and out. Shut up Black, that is not what I meant and you know it.” Sirius bit his tongue to keep from smiling. “You need to work together or no assignments. Do I make myself clear?” They both nodded.

They trained together for weeks, learning how the other moved and thought until they flowed around each other, predicting what the other was going to do before they’d even thought about it. 

The other side had a plan for something terrible and it was their job to infiltrate and find out what was going to happen. 

Sirius watched in awe as Remus expertly picked the locks on a small side door and they slipped into the dark building. 

It was freezing inside. Sirius shook it off, getting his head in the zone. 

They made slow progress up the levels. Riddle would be on the top floor, with his second-in-command on the floor below. That’s where the information would be. 

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was too easy. Why hadn’t they met any of the grunts lower down? 

He gingerly pushed open the door to the floor they needed and crept into the large-decadently-styled open room. Remus sped across the room to the computer and began trying to find the information. It was taking too long, and Sirius felt the panic setting in. 

“Hurry up, Remus,” He hissed, his gun trained on the only door in or out of the room. A hidden door on the far wall opened silently. 

“Tut tut, brother of mine. I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, are you?” Regulus drawled, his gun pointing at Remus. “Call off your man and I might let you out of this building,” Sirius froze and turned to Remus in horror. 

“Come on, Reggie, you know it’s me you want.”  

“I’ve been watching you, Sirius. I know exactly how you feel about him,” Sirius swallowed. Remus typed furiously on the computer. He gasped and met Sirius’s eyes. He’d found something. Remus suddenly jumped up, a flash drive in his hand.

Regulus cocked his gun.

“You don’t think you’re going anywhere with that, do you?” Regulus held out his hand. “Give it here, Lupin.” He swung his gun to Sirius, who’d started inching towards Remus. “Ah, ah, Sirius, no sneaking now. Hand it over, Lupin!” He repeated, pulling back the hammer on the gun. “Final warning, give it to me!” 

The gun went off and Sirius dove in front of Remus. 

He felt a strange pressure, he looked down and saw a small hole just below his heart, red liquid dribbling out. 

“Oh, shit,” He breathed out. Remus rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, pressing it into the wound. He screamed. 

“Keep your hand there and don’t move it,” Remus grunted as he threw Sirius over his shoulder and fled the building. 

He woke up in the hospital, somehow alive, Remus holding onto his hand and all he could think was Regulus never missed. So why had he for a second time?

[thebrainrotsreal]

FINALLYYYYYY. My guys of the jury, this has a tracked 30 damn hours and boy does it feel like it. ANYWAYS, I return for more AU shenanigans because Get Redeemed Loser AU lives in my head rent free. Felt like a nice way to experiment with more vertical style comics? Which is SM EASIER TO PANEL THAN CLASS LAYOUTS. I get why they're so much more common nowadays. Comic,,, so satisfying but at what cost,,, i'm tired. So proud of the top half tho :3.

Okay back to AU brainrot, Mark and Wasp fighting over one of their core differences! I think this is early in their relationship where Mark still thinks Wasp can at least understand what it's like being Nolan's son, only to get smacked in the face with how pride Wasp holds in that title. Anyways, look below to see my suffering made into video.

local artist redoes like 4 damn panels 8 bajillion times and screams into the sky ♡ also if you want fic of this au you should read the fic that @avisisisis wrote about it, ooooo you wanna read it so bad, it's good :3

[unikhroma]

blood shot

info under the cut

spamton has been famous long enough that it's gotten to him. being dragged around cyber city for work affairs, not having enough time to itself, the constant criticism, people talking about it behind its back, poor treatment from fellow mansion residents: it was all driving him insane. along with that, he found himself obsessed with the mansion's butler, and he couldn't ignore it any longer.

after killing an aggressive customer of swatch's in a fit of rage, he shortly made a habit out of expressing his more intense emotions through violence. now there are murmurs in the mansion halls about his frequent visits to the cafe and rumors of people going missing..

there is more detail to all this but what i wrote is super duper long, so there's the condensed version. if anyone's curious about specifics feel free to send an ask

[arlana-likes-to-write]

For the sisters serie, how would it be for reader to adapt to normal things and living without the red room and dreykovs control, and how would Nat, yelena, carol, etc react and help? I hope you like this idea for a fic

-💣

Through Your Eyes

Family is More Than Blood

Warning: mention of past sexual assault, big talk about consent, our lovely reader learning how to be a person, guilt, anxiety, mention of past Red Room trauma

Note: These aren't in timeline order per say, just moments in the reader's life that have shaped her.

Relationship: Carol x Reader, Avenger x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 4.4k

It shouldn’t be this hard, right? It was such a simple choice. Ice cream or fruit. Ice cream or fruit. Ugh, you were going to work yourself into a panic attack over a stupid choice. “Kid, you are letting all the cold air out,” you jumped at Tony’s voice and slammed the fridge and freezer closed.

“Sorry, I was distracted,” he raised a questioning eyebrow at you as he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was well past 5 o’clock, you had no idea how he drank that and managed to sleep. Well maybe he wasn’t sleeping, that was his secret.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” you sighed. Tony leaned back on the counter and sipped his coffee.

“Try me,” you began to pick at the skin around your thumb.

“I wanted something to eat,” you explained. “But I couldn’t decide if I wanted ice cream or strawberries. The decision almost caused me to have a panic attack.” It sounded a lot stupider when you said it out loud. He was quiet and you expected him to have left.

“You know you can have both, right?” You spun around to face him.

“Both?” You questioned in disbelief. He nodded and set his coffee down.

“Sit and watch this,” you sat down and he grabbed the per-cut fruit from the fridge and the ice cream from the freezer. He scoped a few spoonfuls of ice cream in a bowl and sprinkled a few cut-up strawberries on top. “Here,” he handed you the bowl with a spoon but you refused to take it. “What?”

“I didn’t have to have both,” you said. “What if someone wanted those strawberries or that ice cream? I didn’t need both.”

“Kid,” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and placed the bowl in front of you. “If we run out FRIDAY will just order more. You can have anything you want as much as you want.”

“Oh,” you whispered. There was a limit to certain things in the Red Room; food that was given, free time without the cuffs, and a break from the ballet bar. Everything good was limited. “Uh, thanks, Tony. Sorry, that was so dumb.” And a little embarrassing.

“Don’t apologize,” he smiled. “If there is something specific you want let FRIDAY know or ask me, okay?” You nodded as he cleaned up the mess he made. “Enjoy!” He left you to devour your sweet treat.

*

You heard giggling as you entered the kitchen after your workout with Steve. A smoothie, a cold glass of water, and a nap was calling your name. Sitting on the island were Wanda and Yelena, hunched over a laptop and that was the source of the laughter. “What’s going on you two?” You asked, grabbing a glass of water.

“Yelena is a croissant,” Wanda said smiling. You stared at the Slovakian and your sister, mouth slightly open as you tried to process what she told you.

“I’m going to pretend I understand what that meant,” Yelena giggled and turned around the computer.

“It’s an internet quiz,” your sister said. “It will ask you a few questions and you answer at the end it will give you the type of bread you are, or dog, or cartoon character.” She explained. You tilted your head.

“Why do you want to know what type of flower you are?” You questioned, scrolling on the page to see the other quizzes. “What’s the point?” You saw Yelena roll her eyes and take the computer from you.

“There isn’t a point,” Wanda said. “It’s just a fun way to pass the time.” Fun? You weren’t allowed to have fun. There was always a mission or job that needed to be done. Fun was something you weren’t allowed to have in the Red Room.

“Can I take one?” You asked Yelena smiled, nodding her head excitedly. That was where Natasha found you, sitting between Wanda and Yelena with the computer on your lap. “I am not a red panda,” you whined. The two girls laughed at you.

“According to the internet you are,” Yelena smiled, pinching your cheek. “My big krasnaya panda (red panda).” You slapped her hand away.

“I hate you,” you deadpanned.

“There you are,” Natasha said, rounding the corner to stand in front of you. “I thought we were meeting at 3.” You frowned. You were done with your workout by noon so you could shower, eat, and maybe take a nap. Natasha wanted to meet with you because there were some Widows in Central America and the Avengers wanted to see if they could do some surveillance. You looked at the clock in the corner of the laptop. It was 3:15. Shit. You looked back at your sister, her arms were crossed and she wore a smirk on her face.

“I got distracted,” you cringed.

“They got you addicted to those dumb quizzes.”

“Hey,” Yelena said. “They aren’t dumb.” She defended. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Are we meeting or..”

“Yup,” you put the laptop on Yelena’s lap and stood up. “That was fin. See ya guys.” You followed Natasha to the conference room. “Sorry I was late,” you said to her as you sat down in the chair. “Time got away from me.” You were never late, when you needed to be somewhere you were early. If you were late there would be horrible consequences. Natasha waved you off.

“I’m just messing with you,” she smiled, handing you a folder. “Messing around and not working all the time is good for you. We all need to do it every once in a while. It reminds us why we keep fighting.”

*

Walking by Yelena’s room, you heard a groan from the slight crack. Frowning, you gently knocked on her door. “Go away,” she groaned again. You chuckled.

“It’s me,” you opened her door. Yelena was cocooned in the blankets on her bed. “Are you okay?” She burrowed her face in her pillow, muffling the sound she let out. “Come on, sestra,” you sat down on her bed and ran her fingers through her blonde hair. She flopped on her back, pouting.

“I don’t feel good,” you placed your hand on her forehead. She wasn’t warm. “No, it’s not that type of sickness,” she huffed out a sigh. “It’s that time of the month.” Her cheeks blushed slightly. Ah, that explained her mood the past few days. You smiled.

“What do you need?”

“Can you get my heating pad?” She asked. “I think it’s in Nat’s room.” You nodded, kissing her forehead. It was a quick trip to Natasha’s room to grab the heating pad and into the kitchen for water, a Gatorade, and some chocolate. You weren’t subjected to periods but you knew people who were and what they liked. Yelena sighed when you reentered with your arms filled with goodies. You bent down to plug in the heating pad. “Ugh, I hate having a uterus,” the off-handed comment made you freeze, subconsciously moving your hand to wear you bared the mark of the Red Room’s choice. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Her panic snapped you out of the fog, turned on the heating pad, and placed it on Yelena’s stomach. You sat down and cuddled up against her.

“It’s okay,” you said and handed her the chocolate bar. She unwrapped it, picking at the bar slowly. You could tell she was still upset with herself. “Yelena, I’m serious. It’s okay. You didn’t mean any harm,” she sighed. Your sister sat up and placed her hand where she saw where you rested yours. Natasha saved Yelena before the graduation ceremony. One day she could have the choice of having children.

“Do you and Carol want kids one day?” You laughed.

“Funny enough we haven’t talked about that fair into the future,” you smiled, resting your hand on top of hers. The Red Room forced all Black Widows to be sterilized upon graduation. A child of your own was the one thing worth more than the mission. It made everything easier, with undying loyalty to the cause. “Not sure if I want kids,” you told her. “I never thought I’d be given the opportunely to have them.” Yelena nodded, moving to rest her head on your stomach.

“I think you’d be a great mom,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

“Do you think so?” You asked. She hummed in agreement. “Thank you,” you whispered. “Get some sleep.”

*

‘What the hell was the noise?” You thought as you walked out to the balcony. It sounded like a cat being murdered. The source of the sound was coming from Steve, a guitar resting on his lap. You grimaced at the note that was very out of tone. "Whatcha doing?” You asked, holding the book you were going to read behind your back. The super soldier looked at you, pausing the song he was playing.

“Trying to learn how to play the guitar,” you smiled, sitting down in the empty chair next to him.

“And how’s that going?” He sighed and set the guitar on the side table between you and him.

“Well Sam was out here with me at one point so does that answer your question.” You chuckled.

“It takes some practice,” you said, leaning back in the chair and opening the book. Steve mirrored you but with a sketchbook. “You’ll get it,” you added and you both fell into a comfortable silence. But as you read your book, you kept glancing at the guitar. It had been so long since you’d felt the strings of a guitar underneath your fingers. You enjoyed every callous you earned. Sighing, you put the book down and carefully picked up the guitar. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face as you tuned it and began to strum. It was a weird feeling it’s been years since you felt this level of peace. Your smile grew. The world seemed much smaller when a guitar was in your hands.

“I didn’t know you could play,” you jumped, stopping mid-song. “Sorry,” Steve chuckled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Not, it’s fine,” you ran your hand over the body of the guitar. “I was in my own little world,” you sighed. “I haven’t played since Ohio and I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” You admitted, resting your chin on the guitar.

“I could tell. I haven’t seen you smile that big before,” you felt your body warm up. Steve closed his sketchbook and stood up. “You should keep it. You’re the best person to play it.” It took a moment for your brain to register what Steve said.

“Wait,” you stood up. Steve was already at the door. “Hold on. I can’t just keep this.” It was ridiculous, a little absurd.

“Why not?” He questioned with a tilt of his head.

“Because,” you licked your lips. “Because I’ve done nothing to deserve this.” He sadly smiled at you. Did you say something wrong?

“You know you can be given a gift without having to earn it,” that couldn’t be correct. You had to earn everything. Extra portions at dinner time. A mission success meant you could get a break. “Besides, that thing has been bouncing between everyone looking for a home,” he continued. “I think you can give it one.” You stared at the guitar in your hands.

“Thank you, Steve,” he shrugged.

“You should play for all of us,” he said. “At dinner or something.” You smiled.

“I may need some practice before I start performing shows.” He chuckled.

“Well enjoy,” he left you alone. You sat back down, guitar resting on your lap. It was bittersweet holding this instrument again. You wondered what happened to the one you had back in Ohio or any of your things? Was it confiscated by SHIELD? Or local authorities? Was it donated and now someone else was learning how to play on the very same instrument you used? Sighing, you began to play again.

“So bye, bye Miss. American Pie-”

*

There was something off about the day. You were just off all day, having no motivation or energy to do anything. So you called it an early night and curled up underneath the covers. A gentle knock followed by the door opening caused you to sit up. It was Carol. “Hi,” she smiled. “Mind if I join you?” You shook your head and lay back down. You heard her walk over to your closet to grab some clothes she left in your room. The bed shifted as Carol climbed in. She was quick to bring you into her arms. Sighing, you felt her lips graze against your skin. Her hands traveled underneath her shirt. Any other night you would welcome her advances and where this was going to lead but you were so tired.

So when Carol turned you over on your back and covered her body with hers, you didn’t fight her. She was your girlfriend and if she was in the mood you should just let her. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Hey, are you okay?” Carol asked, sitting back on her heels.

“Why-why did you stop?” You asked.

“Because I asked you a question and you didn’t answer.” Oh. You must have dissociated. “Do you not want to have sex?” No. That was the word fighting to come out of your mouth but if you said no would she still want to be with you? Would she hit you like the orders and force you anyway?

“It’s fine,” you said, placing your hands on her thighs. “You are in the mood,” you sat up and put your arms around her neck. “So you can use me.” Your girlfriend stared at you as if she was trying to figure out what you said.

“Use you?” She questioned. You nodded. “I’m not going to use you like you’re some object.” You frowned and sat back. Why wasn’t she going to have sex with you? “Baby, if you don’t want to have sex at any time you can say no.” Your eyebrows scrunched together. No? You weren’t allowed to say no.

“But-but if you want to and as your girlfriend I should let you.” Carol sighed and crossed her legs on your bed. Was she upset with you?

“You have ownership of your own body. It doesn’t matter if I want to have sex, you owe me nothing. I should have asked for consent first.”

“Consent?” You said the world slowly as it felt foreign on your tongue.

“Yeah consent,” she said. “So you know how I would ask to hug you when we weren’t officially together,” you nodded. You always wondered why she did that. “I was asking for your consent to touch you. I didn’t want to assume it was okay.”

“But it is. You can touch me.” She smiled.

“Maybe on some days you don’t want me to and you can tell me no and I’ll respect that.”

“Oh,” you whispered. “You must think I’m so stupid.” You looked down at your hands. Gently, she used her pointer finger to lift your head to look at you.

“Never. The Red Room took your and your sister’s autonomy. I will help you get that back. So,” she smiled. “What do you want to do?” You sighed, biting your tongue from telling her you wanted to have sex.

“Can we cuddle? I’m exhausted.” She nodded and climbed off the bed to help you pull back the covers. Once you were under them, she lay down next to you and put her arm around you. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you heard the smile in her voice. “Now sleep.” And you did, safely in her arms.

*

“Melina-” Natasha heard the strain in your voice as she walked by your room. You were pacing; 5 steps, turn around, and another 5 steps. “I know but if you-” you were cut off again. Natasha couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation but she could tell you weren’t agreeing with whatever was being said. “Yes, mama. I will. Talk to you soon. Bye.” You hung up and stared at your phone.

“You know,” Natasha made her presence known before you threw your phone against the wall. “I don’t think your phone deserves that.” You chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I think Stark could cough over a few bucks to get me another one,” she hummed in agreement and entered your room.

“What’s going on with you and Melina?”

“It’s nothing,” she gave you a pointed look. You sighed. “Sometimes I feel like she doesn’t listen or even try to understand my point of view on something,” you tapped your phone against your thigh. “I was cycled through the Red Room four times before you were born,” you mimicked the older Black Widow accent so well it made Natasha smile. “And I get that it must have been so hard and painful but-”

“It’s not an excuse to invalidate what you went through,” Natasha said, finding the words for you. You looked at her, nodding your head.

“Exactly,” you looked forward again. “When she finished her work with him she got out. Things just got worse,” Natasha knew this conversation was about Melina but there was a part of her that wondered if that was directed at her too.

“It’s common for daughters to fight and not see eye to eye,” Natasha witnessed Laura and Lila go toe to toe.

“Yeah but most mother-daughter relationships weren’t created by a deep undercover Red Room mission to steal information from SHIELD aka HYDRA,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder. “I’m so glad I don’t live with them anymore,” the redhead laughed. “I’m serious. I think I’d kill Alexei by now,” Natasha smiled and took your hand in hers.

“Do you hate them?” She found herself asking. “Like do you wish they were stronger to say no to him.” You were quiet. Natasha could see your eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

“I think that resentment will always be there,” you said. “I was so angry at them when we first arrived at the Red Room.”

“Really? I had no idea,” you acted like their betrayal was something you expected. You chuckled.

“That’s because I hid it from you,” of course you did. Natasha wasn’t surprised by that. “But I thought about getting my revenge on them all the time. I thought I wanted to kill them.” You admitted.

“What changed your mind?” You sighed.

“Because they weren’t the problem. They were just part of the system that was created far before their time.”

*

“I’m not sick,” you mumbled, fighting a sneeze that was tickling your nose. Yelena and Natasha stared at each other before rolling their eyes. “I’m serious!” You pouted, sniffling slightly.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha questioned. “How come Carol told us you didn’t sleep last night because you were up coughing?”

“Traitor,” you huffed and failed to keep a straight face as one sneeze after another escaped. You groaned, a pressure building behind your eyes.

“It’s probably just a cold,” Yelena said, jumping on the table next to you. “Helen will just give you medicine and you’ll feel better in no time,” that was the problem. You hated taking anything that you were told would ‘help’. “Maybe she’ll give you a lollipop.”

“Yelena-” Before Natasha could finish her thought the door opened but instead of Helen, a man walked in. “Bruce,” your sister said. “I wasn’t aware you were back.” He gave her a small smile.

“I got back late last night. Helen got pulled away in a meeting with Steve and Tony so she asked me to help out,” he turned his attention to you. “You must be Y/n, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Bruce,” he approached you with his hand extended to you but you refused to take it, frozen in your spot. Could they hear your heart beating? “Would you be more comfortable with Dr. Cho?” He asked. His question snapped you out of the trance you were in.

“No,” you said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“I’ll let you know everything I’m about to do before I do it, okay?” He could sense your hesitation. A small nod was all the consent you could give and the exam began. He listened to your lungs, asking you to breathe in and out, and took your temperature. You tried to get your body to relax but it wouldn’t. It was tense with tension every time Bruce touched you. His touch was gentle, a little hesitant but you were waiting for the shoe to drop. Soon his hands would leave bruises, would grab you, and force you down. “Looks like you have a small upper respiratory infection,” he said. “Which is odd since you were given the serum, right?” You didn’t respond “Are you under more stress or training harder?”

“I don’t think our sister knows how to relax,” Yelena mumbled and glared at her. Bruce smiled.

“Well I recommend some rest and I’ll prescribe you an antibiotic,” he wrote all this down on his tablet. “I don’t want to interfere too much but the medicine should remind the serum to do its job. Take it easy for the next few days.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Natasha said for you. You forced a smile as the doctor left. “Want to talk about what just happened?” You sighed but a violent coughing attack ripped through you. Natasha grimaced and walked over to you, rubbing your back to soothe the cough.

“I think I’m sick,” you mumbled. Yelena laughed.

“Yeah no shit but listen to what Bruce said and you’ll be better in no time,” So, that was the problem. You refused to take the antibiotics and decided to try to sweat the infection. That was where Bruce found you, holding onto a punching bag as a violent cough left you breathless.

“Your sisters told me I could find you here,” you tensed up at the sound of his voice. Another cough caused you to sway on your feet and Bruce reached out to steady you, this time you didn’t hide your flinch. Immediately, he pulled back his hands. You slumped against the wall, rubbing your chest to ease the pain. It helped. “Do you want me to get Helen or someone you’re comfortable with?” You shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you took a sip from your water bottle. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He stared at you.

“That was the most cliche line you could have said,” he deadpanned but it made you smile. You lowered yourself onto the ground and tried to collect your thoughts. But Bruce was patient and didn’t rush you to speak. Instead, he sat down in front of you with enough space to not make you feel trapped.

“In the Red Room, we were given pills and we were to take them without question mostly by male doctors,” you explained. There was still fear whenever Helen or Melina gave you medication but it helped they were females. “Sometimes it did help, the pain or sickness went away but other times,” you dug your nails into your hand. “Other times we would black out and wake up to a man on top of us.” You swore you saw a flash of green appear on his neck but the doctor covered it up with a cough. “So it’s me, not you.” It was his turn to be quiet and analyze the information you told him.

“Natasha almost broke my arm when I tried to patch her up after a mission,” you chuckled, that sounded about right. “She wouldn’t let Yelena see me alone. I can’t begin to understand what you and your sisters went through,” he sadly said. “But I’m not going to force you to be around me. It’s a trust I’m willing to earn, on your terms, and however long it takes.”

“Thank-thank you, Dr. Banner,” he smiled and stood up.

“I’ll have Helen set up another examination,” he said. “She may prescribe you a different and stronger antibiotic,” you bite back a groan, it was your fault anyway. “Get some rest or I’ll have FRIDAY ban you from the training room. Doctor’s orders.” He joked.

“Aye, aye captain,” you gave him a mock solute. He chuckled and left you alone. With a sigh, you rested your head on the wall. The serum helped you avoid sickness and long-lasting injuries but it was a water-down version unlike what they gave to Steve and the Winter Solider. So some of the bruises and injuries from their hands would last a little longer. It was another way for all the Widows to be under their control. But you were free and safe from them and Helen and Bruce were trying to help. They wouldn’t hurt you. You kept repeating it over and over again until you believed it.

*

It was a foreign feeling as you sat on a blanket near the pound of the Avenger’s compound. Feet bear and resting on the grass. Your fingers strummed on the guitar and hummed along to the song you were playing. Peace. That was the state of mind you were feeling. It was overwhelming. It was strange. But nice. You heard footsteps approaching, but the sound didn’t stop you from playing. You felt the warm hands of your girlfriend resting on your shoulders. She squeezed them. “How are you, baby?” You smiled, looking over your shoulder.

“Good, I’m happy which is odd.” She chuckled.

“Odd? Why is it odd?” You shrugged.

“Never thought I would be happy,” she kissed the top of your head.

“You deserve all of this and more,” she promised. “Now come on, teach me how to play.” You laughed and handed her the guitar. You stood up on your knees and maneuvered her hands on the guitar. As you were explaining the different notes and chords, she was staring at you instead of the guitar.

“What are you looking at?” You giggled.

“Just the most beautiful person in the entire world,” you rolled your eyes and fought the smile that spread across your face.

“Flattery will get you nowhere Captain. Now focus.”

“Yes ma’am,” she teased and began to listen to what you were teaching her. You smiled as she played the cords with some hesitation. This was your life, your beautiful life.

_

Also, while writing these stories. I don't think I've written Carol asking the reader to be her girlfriend. May write a quick drabble about that.

[raynavan]

a funky drawing for my fic March ever on! where we love worms, and Ingo really needs to stop falling into portals.

[inkyminx]

~ Beauty of The New Moon ~

[sunnimint]

Title: Blues of a Cafe

Ship: Metonic

Summary:

Metal owns a cafe.

Sonic, suspicious, decides to visit every day to keep an eye on Metal.

[papabigtoes]

for the others i listen to metal and the dethalbums but this week i’ve used this photo below and listen to slowed down + reverb britney spears songs for inspo when i draw rabid murderface

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Vampire Mikey