#(bird man who cried accident)

[asheanon]

❛  it was an accident ... simply an accident.  ❜

(what's the accident? The chandelier? Her ultimate abduction??? Did he spill his wine on Lorien??? Im gonna reply to our threads today bc this meme sparked potojoy)

From: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑶𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

The light, though perhaps not as bright as it made itself out to be at that moment, was enough to create strain. A twinge of pain met her weary eyes as she opened them.

Coming into focus were the various shapes and forms of something… immaculate. Rows of gilded embellishments, elaborate and vaguely damask in design, stretched across a marbled ceiling. Crowning the room, at its center was the assailant to her waking vision - a golden chandelier of similar sublimity.

A chandelier…

. . .

“Would you share this dance with me, my dear?”

It was as if she had been in a daze, the gleam of crystalline dancing in the light was cast in the reflection of celadon irises. She glanced at him - her friend, Lorien, donning layers of alabaster, aptly ballroom-baroque - his hand extended for the taking. With a warm smile, she accepted.

Here’s to another dance. One more acquainted than the last.

A tragic misstep due in part to a lack of spatial awareness perhaps wounded his pride, but the stifled laughter that was shared in turn only enriched the experience. Fellowship at its finest.

With their song drawing to a close, she began to wonder who was next. Perhaps Mina or Branson? Beyond the violinist’s shoulder, briefly, the Burmecian caught her eye. He appeared to still be brooding in the corner. Emitting an insurmountable aura of withdrawal, it was as if he reflected any and all social advances by this power alone, hovering over a drink and an assortment of hors d'oeuvres. Well… if he was next, perhaps their round could be shared at the table instead of the dance floor.

As the wayfarer and the violinist came to a stop, they exchanged gentle words and additional chuckle before parting ways.

Amidst a delectable array of various bruschetta, canapé and other such appetizers, a recent addition of roasted blueberry ricotta crostini called out to her - it was truly delightful. It would seem the spirits were too, the way some attendees drunk themselves silly. Eager to partake of one himself, Branson reached for the platter before, suddenly, they saw Lorien come storming by.

Though a grin was classically plastered upon his face, it evidently forced - he did not acknowledge the two, marching along with the utmost haste. What had transpired was unclear; however, visually, as she trailed after him, she spied what looked to be but a glimpse of a “bloody” footprint left in his wake. For just a second, a beat; as if it was a matter of luck she had seen it. It was soon covered by the ruffles of an oblivious guest’s ball gown.

Had he been hurt somehow? In that instant, she excused herself. She stepped outside of the ballroom. Upon entering the empty neighboring hall, she realized her eyes had not deceived her; a line of red footprints stained the floor. Upon further inspection, it seemed a little darker and thinner than blood... but no matter. Pursuing them for a ways, it wasn't until she nearly made her way to a door leading outside before it happened…

She felt… tired. And faint. He was nowhere in sight. The room she found herself in was vacant, save for its furnishings. She steadied herself upon the arm of a chair before allowing herself to have a seat in it. Her consciousness was beyond her control. The revelry beyond the walls soon faded out.

. . .

It was coming back to her. Some of it, anyway.

She sat up slowly, taking note of the status of her own person; her ivory gown, still white as snow - her slippers and other layers to her attire remained, all unmarred. No marks upon what skin she could see (a perhaps unnecessary observation to make as an Ethereal, but even still.) The lengths of her hair were… they were fine, but oddly maintained. Even the folds of her dress were laid out with care. Whoever had placed her here was either mindful or… something else.

With movement registering in her peripherals soon after, her study strayed. It was then that she realized she was not alone.

Before her stood a familiar figure; the shape of the feathery crest upon his head was enough to identify him, though the debonair attire proved just as memorable. Immediately inquiring on her concerns over the matter at hand, she was given what may have been the most vague (an oddly suspicious) answer she could have likely ever been given:

❛ it was an accident … simply an accident. ❜

“An accident…” She echoed.

At odds with her addled mind, the nearly ever-present curve of her lips was lacking, if not outright absent. Her gaze made its way back up to what was now becoming an eerily recurring theme looming above them. Or a part of it.

Here she was yet again - a white dress, a chandelier and him… There was a pattern beginning to form.

An accident… Was this all really just an accident?

[mrfleshwizard]

Real.

Lucifer didn't even bother to talk to Adam about his behavior. "How do you know that he didn't?" Becouse in that book on the start there was NO mention that. The whole point of that story was to show Lucifer in the pure white light (you cannot concived me otherwise). If he did talk to Adam, he would mention it in the book, but he didn't. If he did do it than why he wouldn't mention it? That would make him look even better. So, yeah, he probably didn't.

"But Adam wouldn't listen-" Maybe becouse you banged his wife? I also wouldn't listen to person who my "wife" had affair with. He could try harder. You could take a form of the animal, just help Eve and Adam. Adam was literal child with adult body. He didn't know right from wrong. He needed an right teacher and Lucifer was an AUTHORITY. A fucking authority. He's job was to help humans and take care of them as a person who is older (just like the other angels) but no? Why he should do that? He's Lucifer after all! The biggest victim of the world!

Lucifer never cared about Eve. He humiliated her to make fun of Adam. (woah how mature/s) He couldn't came up with something different becouse OR he doesn't know her at all OR he doesn't know Adam at all. There are only two options.

"He refrence to the apple!" It's even worse. Imagine how Eve would felt? How SHE would felt that man who RUINED her life and her children lives and all humans life uses her like some trophy to her husband face. Eve was blamed for fall of the humanity even of it wasn't really her fault and that fucker made it worse.

That monster is responsible for every war, every illness, every death, every crime and he so proud of it. If was him I couldn't look on the minor after what I have done to innocents, how many people Die nervously of my selfhness let alone be proud of it. There nothing to be proud of.

He didn't get any punishment at all. He was rewarded. He got his wife, he give humanity a "free will" (even if they had it before), he got whole fucking kingdom, he became a KING, he became powerful, but I guess he too lazy to take care of it. He really must hate doing his duties or whatever that is spelled. (english isn't my first language) But he cries about hE dIdN't NoThInG wRoNg! Like dude you did EVERYTHING wrong. You're all existence is wrong. But no! YOU ARE THE VICTIM! YOU AND NOT ADAM OR EVE WHO HAD HUNDRED TIMES WORSE. WHOSE CHILDREN PAINFULLY DIE. And I'm not talking about Cain and Abel only. They probably had more children that Die becouse... come on, they live in the wild, they were the first parents. Starvetion, wild animals, infections, illness, accidents, cold and who knows? Maybe even sucide. Lucifer never lost a child Adam and Eve lost at least two. AT LEAST TWO.

Adam and Eve suffer starvetion, the very cold winter, they were forced to kill animals who they been friends with. Eve give birth without doctors when Lilith probably had many. Adam had to work as a farmer Lucifer never worked, at least he never was forced too.

Lucifer have a life who many of people want to have, but he doesn't care.

Adam and Eve got worse punishment than Lucifer and he acts like he is the victim.

"But his family-" They did a good thing.

Lucifer deserved to fall. Not Lilith becouse she was a CHILD WITH ADULT BODY. But Lucifer? He absolutely did.

Also can we talk how ugly he is? He supposed to be the beautiful but he a fucking abumimation. Does his power is to kill people with his ugly ass face?

I don't understand how people like him. I want him dead. That's not even a joke. I Hope Lilith will be a villain and leave his ugly ass. She deserved better than him. Everybody does.

I don't care that he likes ducks. Fuck his ducks I want them also dead. I would tell him how male ducks copulate with female ducks (they are kind a like dolphins) only to ruin his day.

If feel bad for the cocktails or something like that. You know the birds who are comperad to the Lucifer? I feel bad for them. They deserved do much, so much better than being comperad to that freak.

I'm serious. I want that poor excuse of an devil dead. Like very dead-dead. Like he wouldn't come back.

[nicosraf]

So I heard about baalcifer rant but what about MOOLCIFER and their love hate relationship that broke my heart because I NEED IT! Like screaming shaking throwing up because I can’t say much but Michael’s internal thoughts were killing me

Michael and Lucifer.... okay let me ramble about them too. Spoilers for Angels & Man below the cut.

They're made for each other, and they know that. Maybe God did it by accident, but he made them that way regardless. And I think that thought was very romantic in ABM, when they were innocently holding hands and pecking each other's lips like birds. I think half the fun of wrestling or laying together was feeling how perfectly their bodies fit together. When Michael puts his hands on Lucifer's cheeks or his waist or his hips, it's like they lock into place.

But God is a jealous God, so he punishes Lucifer (and not Michael, at least not initially). Lucifer was promised by Michael that he'd protect him, and he wholeheartedly believes in him, so he keeps waiting and waiting for Michael to save him, to kill God and take him away. To take him back to Earth maybe. (in vain i love you, the dawn streaming onto you, but there is no dawn in heaven, only on earth; lucifer wants to see the dawn with michael again). But Michael — well, he's the angel of strength, everyone adores him because he's so strong and big and muscular and beefy (and everyone is super gay). maybe he, at some point, worried that he was the angel of pain, but that was long ago now.

I don't think Michael has any strength at all. He has God-given strength but none of his own. He's never had to become strong. When he's finally put in a situation where he has to build a little strength of his own, he completely fails. When Lucifer tries to sleep with Michael, he cries. There's no pride in him, there never was, or that little bit of pride is really just God's, a tiny reflection of God. God made Lucifer to adore him, then made his chief prince a little too much like Himself; he made Lucifer and Michael for each other, without meaning to, maybe.

And so the fall happens and Lucifer is mad. Michael was a coward and a liar. he couldn't muster up the courage to even sleep with him. He didn't save him.

For a while, Lucifer just rots. He plays dead. He feels dead. He's so angry at Michael that he hates him almost as much as God. He thinks that maybe Michael was just like God in the end; Michael liked him as an adornment, as a beautiful angel to sing him songs and serve him drinks. Lucifer hates him, hates him, hates him. He gets up, finally, and gathers the demons, and he's so angry at Michael he thinks he'll dismember him next time he sees him.

Michael, though, is confused and upset. After cutting off Lucifer's wings, his hands are bloody and he's thinking, 'What have I done?' . When God binds him, he's scared. Why did he do that? Was that wrong? What happened? And now he's being tortured and immediately regrets what he's done. And he cries for Lucifer, begins to dream of him. God tells Michael that this is all his fault. He says Michael killed Lucifer when he loved him, maybe Michael didn't fuck him but he might as well have. Satan is the beast that Michael has made because he loved something more than he loved God, and now he is responsible for all the horrors Satan committed. Michael keeps dreaming of Lucifer, but this time he dreams ends in blood.

In A&M, Michael is sent to Earth as God's sword, and he slaughters everything in his way. He thinks this is the only way to stop Satan; that's what God has told him. Michael must punish the angels who fell for love, and he must bring Satan back to Heaven to be restored; Michael is certain this entire ordeal is his opportunity to redeem himself.

They finally meet again. Michael sees Satan, the monster he's made. Lucifer sees Michael, a lowly coward he stupidly loved once. Oh they hate each other. They want to rip each other apart but Michael is on a mission, and Lucifer is playing a long game, trying to buy time before the end of all things.

But there's something much worse that happens after they see each other again: they realize they still want each other. It doesn't matter what happened; they still feel like they were made for each other. Michael is praying for God to keep his head clear and Lucifer is furious. Michael thinks he craves a monster (and he keeps trying to squash all his obsessive thinking of beautiful sweet excitable angel Lucifer) and Lucifer thinks being attracted to Michael is embarrassing and pathetic and against his own morals. Liking Michael, to Lucifer, is liking God.

So all Lucifer can do is laugh, make fun of him. Invite him into his home as a way to control him. And it does work to an extent. Once, Lucifer needed Michael to teach him how to fight. Now, it's Lucifer doing the teaching. He's the one in control now.

They have that moment in that room. They fight. They rub and finish on each other. Michael is fantasizing of finishing inside of Lucifer, yadda yadda. But this doesn't satisfy them. Nothing will satisfy them until they're one, and they know it.

At the end of things, Michael decides not to drag Lucifer to God; he doesn't want to anymore, suddenly. He can't make himself do it. In ABM, he handed Lucifer to God without question, but here.... he doesn't. And worse, Michael sees the flood come and go, and nothing is any better. He did not redeem himself, and Lucifer was not restored. What was the point? Why did he do any of this?

But he'll go back to Heaven, and he's going to dream about Lucifer again. He's going to bring his hand to his mouth and suck on his fingers, thinking of how Lucifer felt. How they were made for each other, no matter how much they despise that now. And Lucifer is going to try to kill his love again, over and over, until the end of time.

[grapejuicestyless]

Fix You.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: You and Conrad have been in a toxic relationship for as long as you can remember. As much as you want to fix him, it night not be possible.

Just a little blurb while I try to finish other requests <3

The deepness of his eyes hid the cool undertones of his glare. He was the embodiment of summer. Blonde hair, tanned skin. He had freckles from the sun and a blush like burn tinting his cheeks. His wild hair and charming smile was nothing like the man he was.

At first I could blame his casual cruelty on the passing of his mother. The affairs of his father and the distrust that Belly had placed on him after her endless chase for his heart ended with the her wrapped around his brother.

But soon the past faded further into the distance. Each summer seemed more and more dull, not in his eyes, but in the fiery kindness he radiated. He was no longer the gentle boy I had grown up with. Not the same kid who sat next to me in math, begging for help on fractions. Not the same teenager who helped me in calculus when numbers because letters and more buttons on the calculator were being used.

He wasn’t the same Conrad who begged Susannah to take me with them each summer because the thought of even spending a second without his best friend from Boston was too unbearable for his young heart.

This Conrad liked to yell. He liked to drink at parties, and he liked to lie.

Hickeys adorned his once beautifully pure neck and his lips stained a shade of red I never owned. I couldn’t afford to own. And with the smell of liquor on his breath, I let it slide like a hose on a slippery plastic summer. I reason, he wasn’t in the correct mindset. And in the morning he swears he believed it was me he was kissing. And I believe that it’s all better because he’s my Conrad, the same boy who pushed me on the swings and held my hand in the dark.

Yet, him confessing his infidelity meant nothing. His crying and begging building my trust only for him to ruin it again.

When would it be my turn to come home and pout about my mistakes. Ones that were supposed to be an accident that clearly were becoming more and more purposeful. When could I pull at my roots and sob into the shoulder of the man who swore to protect me?

It would never be and it could never be. The second my throat would close and my voice would betray me, he was as angry as I was. He had no reasons to be. But he was so good at convincing me otherwise.

“Have some self worth.” Belly had scolded me. But it was impossible to have some. Not when I’d spent it all on a boy who swore to pay it back and never did.

His friends all told him not to be surprised when I stopped showing up for him. A girl can only believe in change so much before the broken proves they are unfixable.

It took me until August, just days before our two year anniversary. A day that was once decorated with flowers and promises was littered with bear cans and scandals.

The night before I caught him finally. His second glass of wine half empty on the table. The same shade of red as the woman’s lips he was kissing tenderly.

I bet he would’ve like it, if I had made a scene. If I had yelled and cried. But I had already done all that. I had begged and pleaded for answers and he called me overdramatic, moody, angry. He had taken all the willpower out of me to do just what he wanted.

I stopped coming by after that summer. The old red door was chipped by the knocker, but it was never used anymore. And his phone was dry without the sound of my voice to remind him to enjoy the nice weather while it lasted.

The birds still sang and the children still played in the streets. But my driveway was empty and the houses were quiet.

I sat alone in my room, feet in front of me on the floor. Humming the tune of a song I know vaguely, I skip some lyrics in my head. Snow falls steadily by my window, and the chill seeps through my thin walls. My nose is red and fingers numb. Im combing through the twinkling fairy lights. I want to hang them up for the holidays. Each time I pull, no matter what I do, they always spring back into their previous curls and spirals. They twist and wrap around each other. The knot only reforms the farther I dig into the wires. I can try to change it, but it will always go back to where it was.

I was untangling string lights much longer than I thought.

[princess-of-purple-prose]

HIII writing prompt “monster” and 7? 💕

Giggling the teensiest bit, I love you <3 No, really, I love you, because 7 was, amusingly, the wildcard number, so randomly picking landed me on TIM STOKER, and I don’t think I’ve ever written in his pov before but this CONSUMED ME?? I haven’t written this much in one go in weeks, forget this fast?? This also, uh, turned into full-out jontim, which was a complete accident because this was SUPPOSED to be a meditation on him mid-Research era. Aha. Enjoy!!!!

“—and that,” Jon declares, “is why it’s so vital to continue establishing Hope Spots, not just in spots ripe for ecotourism, but across the world.” He takes what must be his first breath in ten full minutes, and it’s only then that he seems to register Tim and Sasha’s twin gleeful expressions. His own expression goes a little funny. “Tim, Sasha, please tell me you weren’t—”

Sasha is already stabbing at her phone, fumbling a little before she actually hits the right button. “Twelve minutes and forty-six seconds! A new record!”

“The man’s a monster!” Tim toasts Jon with a whoop, and Jon—there’s really no other word for it: he fully pouts at Tim, wrinkling his nose so primly it makes Tim want to bear-hug him right then and there. He sublimates the urge by being even more over-the-top, trying to see if he can make Jon’s nose scrunch up even more. “Attenborough who! I want all my documentaries voiced by this man!” Opposite him, Sasha dissolves into tiny giggles, sweet and delicate as a spray of mayflowers.

“Sasha missed the ‘stop’ button about five times, you can’t call that—” Jon snorts, but his cheeks have turned the rich cherry of his desk back at Research, so he can’t be that mad about their subpar timekeeping of his latest incredibly disorganized, incredibly endearing overview of the last documentary he watched.

“Jonnnnnn, take the win!” Tim cries, and he gives in and slings an arm around Jon’s shoulder like it belongs there. God, the man’s teeny, they need to make sure he gets some carbs in him. On that note— “Take some chips, too, you’re built like a bird!”

“And you’re built like,” Jon grumps, “a—a—” He scowls and takes a chip, presumably only to cover the fact that he’s too drunk to come up with a simile. Contrary little bastard, he is. “Get off me, you arse.”

Tim makes a complaining sound even as he immediately pulls away—only for Jon to jolt and then practically butt up into Tim’s hovering arm, far more housecat than bird. Tim freezes, not putting any pressure against Jon even though they’re skin-to-cardigan again.

“Jon…?”

Oh, there it is, there’s that wrinkled nose. Tim loses his breath, a little bit. “I didn’t mean it,” Jon says, scowling even harder than he’d been before and refusing to look Tim’s way. “It’s—It’s cold in here, alright?”

As a matter of fact, it is a comfortable degree of stifling in here, and Jon is in a cardigan that’s more than enough to ward off the mild autumnal chill and drunk besides. Jon seems well aware of this, or maybe not aware at all, because as Tim settles tentatively against him again, he grabs for his long-forgotten glass and downs the rest of it. Tim gives Sasha a wide-eyed look, only for her—traitor! Disloyal turncoat!— to smirk back, propping her chin up with a hand and arching her perfect eyebrows at him.

“Oh, shut up,” he snips, cheeks warming, just as Jon sets down his now-empty glass. Jon turns to him curiously, having entirely missed the exchange, and Tim turns his brightest beam on him and coos, “Not you, you’re a delight and I’m glad you’re sitting next to me and not”—he aims another scowl her way, and Sasha sticks her tongue out at him—“Sasha over there, because she gives me a hard enough time without you there to egg her on worse.”

Sasha smirks harder. Tim wishes he could kick her under the table without Jon noticing.

“I’m perfectly capable of siding with her even while sitting practically on top of you,” Jon sniffs, drier than anyone should be capable of being with that quantity of liquor in them, and Tim gapes in outrage even as delight fills him up to the tips of his ears to match Jon’s still-red cheeks.

“That’s what I like to hear, Jon!” Sasha cheers, raising her own empty glass to him. Jon quirks a wicked little grin and does the same.

Tim emits a high-pitched squawk of disbelief. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?” He sags dramatically against Jon, relishing in his little grumble of annoyance as he gets crushed. “What’s a guy to do?”

“Buy us more drinks?” Sasha suggests innocently to the tune of Jon’s sniggering, and Tim groans theatrically even as he flags down the waiter for another round. Monsters, the both of them! he laments to himself. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cyborg-franky]

Sexy Time Mishaps Part 1

@silvers-d-me wanted something like this so I did some headcanons, thank you for supporting me!

Working on a list of 'most common sex mishaps' I was linked to. Plus a few of my own. I hope everyone enjoys <3

Part One Marco and Ace.

N/SFW Undercut - GN reader

The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh rang out in the doctor's office. You gripped the edge of the desk and cried out his name.

“There we go little bird, feeling good?” Marco asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled out, slowly, deliberately. Making you mewl and whine at the feeling of emptiness before he slammed back in.

“M-Marco!” He leaned over your body, lips against your ear, you could feel his hot breath as he chuckled “Yes?” His hips snapped back once more and you were seeing stars.

The phoenix could be a very gentle lover, the kind of man who could make sex last for hours but he also had this incredibly feral side to him.

A side that wanted to fuck you over his desk halfway through the workday because he had urges.

You loved both sides.

“I’m so close,” You whined as you pushed back against his punishing pace. The legs of the desk creaked, your moans too loud to hear the screeching of the feet of the desk against the floorboards.

“Good, cum for me pretty bird yoi,” He hummed, nipping your ear as he speed up, desperate to make you a complete mess for him like he wanted everyone on the ship to hear you as they passed the office.

At this rate between the desk and you screaming at the impact of Marco’s intense session you were sure you’d alert the navy to your location.

You felt the cool surface of the desk on your cheek as he adjusted, getting you ridiculously deep, dragging his thick cock along your walls and you just moaned, all thoughts simply fucked out of your head.

Suddenly you heard a crack, the sound of wood splintering. “Marco, stop, stop, too much your going too hard!” You hissed when the sounds grew and something moved in the desk, you felt lower than a few seconds ago. 

“Do you really mean that?” He asked, thinking you were putting it on for the sake of his ego.

Before you could answer there was an almighty snap, a crack of wood, and the sound of the flimsy legs giving out under the weight of you both and the roughness of Marco’s motions.

He pulled out in time before a real bad accident could happen but you still landed on the broken desk, flat on the floor with the legs bowed out. Both groaning, he rolled off of you, sitting up and helping you.

Concerned eyes looked over your body before the lazy smirk appeared on his lips.

“Looks like I fucked you too hard this time yoi,” He was so proud of himself until you elbowed him in the side.

Ace was always doing this, grabbing you when you passed down the hallway.

When he had a moment's break from his work he'd seek you out for a little bit of fun and honestly, you didn’t mind.

You loved the rush of sneaking away with him when others could accidentally catch you both.

The thrill got you going and you knew it made him hard.

Ace was grinning down at you right now, both of you hiding out in the empty room, one of the many used for storage on the vast ship.

You sighed when you felt his hands in your hair, gently brushing the strands behind your ears as you gazed up at him with such adoration in your eyes. The grin that stretched across his handsome freckled face just lit your fire even more.

“You look so hot babe, I love when you're on your knees in front of me like this..” He said, the smirk growing as he let go of your hair for a moment, unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock.

You didn't even have to be asked, you took his cock into your mouth gladly, loving every sound you could drag from him. Ace leaned against the wall, face flushed as he battled with the want, the need to buck his hips.

You moaned around his member, tongue working on him, knowing just what your boyfriend liked.

Ace must have been worked up because it barely took him any time to grab at your hair with one hand and bit his own hand to stifle the noises.

His hips thrusting with a mind of their own now, pushing down your throat, you took it well, used to how he often lost to his urges, swept away in the moment, drowning in the pleasure.

What neither of you was used to, however, was the sudden erupt bang on the door as Ace cried out, cumming.

You jerked your head away from him, staring at the door that rattled like someone was trying to get in.

Ace couldn’t stop, he couldn’t put on the brakes and he grabbed his cock, and he came, hard.

Hitting you right in the eye, you screamed out, unprepared for the sudden ‘eye shot’

Ace winced and panicked, dropping to his knees and cupping your cheeks “Oh babe, I didn’t mean to! Oh fuck, you okay?”

“Fucking, fuck, fuck!” You whined and shook your head just as the door opened.

Marco and Thatch standing there, staring at you rubbing your face, and Ace with his cock out looking like he was about to have a panic attack as he fussed over you.

“Looks like you need a doctor,” Thatch said, shaking his head with a laugh as Marco’s shoulders slumped a tsk as you and Ace stared at him.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I'm curious on your take on the Ratman and ratlings' relationship with animals. Do you think they'd keep any and risk becoming attached? I feel this would outwardly effect Jack the most considering his love for all the weird shit they got in Australia but I think Arthur is also the type to be really hurt by the loss of a pet. But in a dad way. Like he'll begrudgingly take in the fucking cat one of his kids brings to his home out of the rain and the animal ends up being his partner in crime. He's stone-faced when it passes away and it takes a while for the pain to subside but he doesn't let it show for even a second. I don't imagine Matthew could handle the mental load of losing a beloved pet. Alfred is too fucking busy to properly care for one. Zee probably has a few birds whose babies she cares for for generations maybe a kiwi lol

TW for pet death

Alfred has had horses his entire life. He's got a ranch in his name somewhere where the descendants of the pair of horses, Liberty and Justice, that Matt gave him during the Civil War live. Justice got shot out from under him in 1864 but he went full Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie, dropped dead of idk, the shits and when he was feeling better Liberty was getting her hump on with a local stallion so he just made a ranch there and their descendants still fuck amongst the grasses or however the prairies work. Liberty is immortal because fuck I already killed one horse this post and I'm already emotional.

Matt... He just kept trying. Nations have semi immortal pets. All he wanted was a goddamn friend. François gave him a lap dog when he was little. It died in its first Canadian winter as was often the fate of anything smaller than a terrier. He tried a newfie. It drowned. Finally, around the 1780s he had a little black and white working dog he named Sel et Poivre who lasted a decade. But eventually he got ripped up by a wolverine and Matt was damned to eternal loneliness until Arthur had mercy on him and got attached enough to the wee fat house lion he named Flufferton he didn't die. Matt's best friend for awhile and favourite heat source at his father's. Cue 1980 with Canada finally getting it's full independence and Jan dropping him like a hot rock and Alfred got him a Samoyed puppy in the aftermath. I've called this dog Kuma, Bud and Buckwheat before. The neighbor backs over him by accident! and Matt low-key has the worst mental breakdown of his life like he's 20 seconds from getting the axe and ending up in grippy sock jail. Then the pupper pops up licks him and Matt has the happiest sob fest for like a solid week. Finally! Immortal pupper. No more perishing.

Jack is a fun example because he's very in tune with the circle of lire and his favourite pet was a tortoise named Harriet he's had on and off since 1830 when she died in 2006. So when she finally died of natural causes he was absolutely fucking devastated. Didn't get out of bed for a week after the funeral, cried his eyes out every time he saw a turtle or tortoise for years. She was his baby since he was a baby. Closest thing to losing a childhood dog a nation can express. He had plenty of snakes and spiders and dogs that passed on and they made him sad but oh Harriet 😭.

Zee has a budgie named Pavlova that Jack got her when she finally dropped the family name. Just so she can say she owns Pavlova. It spent a week with Uncle Matt during hockey season and went back to Mum telling everyone, "Give your balls a tug, tit fucker" and making nondescript sobbing sounds. And the singular devotion with which New Zealand intervenes in its bird's well-being? Oh yeah, they're her children. Entire genomes of Kiwi-birds and Kakapo and Kea. She personally hunts rats that threaten their population like it's 1916, flashlight between her teeth, knife in one hand, Arthur sweating like mad somewhere. Bird watching is something she and the old man have in common so he probably does jokingly call them her grandchildren. Zee gets beat in the shin by a screaming kiwi-bird, and he just picks it up like, "Now that's no way to treat your mother, lad! Mind your manners." Before it toddles off and any on-looker is just pure, what the fuck.

[missathlete31]

Pulled Strings

Summary: Jake Seresin is feeling stressed so he gets out his violin and begins to play. The only problem? He's not alone in the barracks today and some of his teammates are shocked to learn of his hidden talent.

This story came from the knowledge that Glen Powell was trained on the violin. Is it filled with unnecessary angst? Yes. Does it paint Hangman in a good light because it's the only way I know how to write him? Also Yes. Sorry about that.

Jake Seresin was used to stress, you didn't become one of the Navy's Top Aviators without being accustomed to it, but this mission was starting to become a bit much for even him. First it was the long suffering rivalry with Rooster. Jake didn't particularly hate Bradshaw, he just never understood him, or his proclivity to over-thinking. Sure, Hangman tended to stray a little far over the line of cocky, but he had faith in his abilities like every pilot attempting the skills they did on a daily basis should. Rooster's naivety was annoying for its sheer unsoundness. He was clearly talented, he wouldn't be where he was if he wasn't, so this faux, 'I don't know if I can go that fast or fly like Maverick' was just getting frustrating at this point.

Hangman knew he crossed a line when he brought up Rooster's father, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't even mean for it to land so wrong. He didn't mean to make it sound like he blamed Maverick, or that Nick Bradshaw's death was anything but a tragic accident. He only meant to light a fire under Rooster, to show Bradley and by extension Maverick that the mustached man was never going to be ready to fly if he didn't stop thinking and living in the past. Bradley did the team no favors, he did himself no favors, staying in his head instead of in the sky.

Since the altercation, Jake had apologized. Maverick took it with a genuine look, his eyes lost in a past that Hangman knew he was fortunate to not understand but had callously brought up anyway. It probably would have felt better if Mav had taken a swing, but the older Captain just patted Jake's shoulder and told him to go get ready for his flight later in the day.

Of course then the dark haired pilot went up to run a hop with Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote.

Jake's initial plan was to reach out to Bradley for his apology as they hung around the ready room but before he could get the words, Coyote was in G-lock and Jake's heart seemed to stop. Javy was Jake's best friend, his only real family if he was honest with himself, and the thought of losing him that day made the ramifications of this suicide mission a lot more sickeningly clear. Hangman had shakily collapsed next to the radio once Coyote finally answered but then the bird strike happened and everything seemed to get even more clouded with emotions. Jake would never survive something bad happening to Javy but he in no way thought he would feel the same way about the others, not until he kept hearing Phoenix's voice calling that they were on fire, of Bob's panicked cries that they needed to eject, of Maverick screaming they couldn't save the jet. All three voices, combining with Mav's calls for Javy to pull up, were terrifying enough to cement into Jake's nightly rote of nightmares for the time being. Another strain from an impossible mission.

Hangman went to the hospital after Phoenix and Bob were picked up like all the others but somehow, once everyone was deemed more or less in one piece, it seemed only he and Rooster remained in the waiting room, both men needing to see their teammates with their own two eyes. Jake mustered his apology there and Bradshaw, reeling from the close call of almost losing Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote in the same afternoon, had only begrudging nodded.

Things weren't fixed, they never would be, but a truce was created. And, the asshole part of Hangman also wished he could point out to some of the others who still looked at him with disappointed looks, Rooster was now flying faster and giving Jake a run for his money in terms of being wingman. Especially now that it was basically written in stone that Maverick was flying; he had demolished the course the other day after the funeral.

It was a scary concept, a foreign concept, but Jake was suddenly finding himself thinking he might not be the one flying this mission. He had the speed, that much was never in doubt, and his target locks were getting better- still not the best, but certainly no worse than the others. No, Jake's deficiency was that he had no team; the others trusted him about as far as they could throw him, and he could tell from day one that Maverick held pride in pilots that could work together, not solo showboats. Hangman had overshot his landing field in this whole predicament and it was really throwing the blond Texan off kilter.

Jake wasn't used to failure, he didn't allow for it. He didn't have to worry about facing his parent's wrath for failure anymore, that bridge collapsed and burned the day he left for the academy, but there was so much expectations Jake had placed on himself because of them, so much need to prove that he was worth the time, the effort, the love that was never given.

Yet as the hours to shipping out crept closer and closer, Hangman seemed to find his place was being filled by someone else and the looming shadow of not being good enough was getting ready to block out his sun.

Hence the stress.

His normal stress reliever was running but the typical North Island sun was hidden in rainclouds this afternoon. The team was able to have their standard lecture but hops had all been scratched, leading Jake to feel restless as he paced his small housing. Normally rain wouldn't deter a run completely for the hot shot pilot, he actually found it quite peaceful, but he doubted Maverick or Cyclone would be as accepting and the chance of a reprimand for risking illness so close to shipping out dissuaded the blond. His next thought was the gym but Jake didn't have the stomach to run into any of the others, they were on better ground but not enough that anyone went out of their way to include Hangman, except Javy of course. Coyote had texted earlier to say that he and some of the other pilots had taken the short respite the weather had afforded them to get off campus, and from the lack of noise around him, Jake assumed he was the only one left in their housing block, which offered a unique opportunity. Hangman headed over to closet, pulling out the guitar case that was one of the few personal items he allowed himself. Opening it carefully, Jake reached for not a guitar but a violin, the mismatched instrument case his attempt at not allowing others to know his hidden talent. Playing the guitar was expected from a Texan, but a violin? Not something normally entertained from a cocky Naval Aviator.

Jake took our his bow and made sure to grab some rosin, greasing it gently and properly like he was shown so many years ago. When everything was ready he brought the instrument to brace against his neck and began to play, the notes coming easily as he moved through some scales and uncomplicated melodies. Immediately, Jake's shoulders un-tensed, the power of music always calming him, and he closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't back at Top Gun and training for a deadly mission but rather back home, in Midland Texas, playing in the orchestra room with Ms. Elliot, one of his most beloved teachers, as she watched him with a pride reserved usually for parents that Jake had never experienced before.

Quickly, Jake was transitioning to harder pieces, the melancholy of both the rain and his own disappointment in his performance thus far these past few weeks making him long for sadder and more drawn out music. He naturally went to Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, skipping to the second movement so he could relish in the hauntingly dramatic opening melody.

Next he switched to Bach. Jake was not normally one for changing composers so quickly but he allowed it today, his fingers just playing with no real thought, his bow slicing across the strings as he integrated the two musicians a few times as the pilot sounded out his feelings. It was emotional for the blond, his own inadequacies coming out through the notes and Jake wasn't surprised when a tear, and then two, slowly trailed down his cheeks. He didn't try to wipe them, couldn't stop now that he was so engrossed in the music anyway, until he thought he heard a knock on his door.

"Bagman!" a familiarly angry voice called, "hey Bagman!"

Jake's fingers stuttered, his bow coming across jagged and letting out a screech that made goose bumps prickle on his skin. For a moment the blond stood there unmoving, shocked at the interruption to a point he didn't really know how to proceed. His guest, however, seemed undeterred.

"BAGMAN OPEN UP!" The voice called again and Jake finally recovered enough to put his violin down. He could sense the blush rising on his cheeks, the natural embarrassment of being caught, although he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of. He felt unsettled, not liking to ever be caught unaware, and Hangman couldn't help but curse himself for not ensuring that he truly was alone on base before he started playing. Hoping he could act it off as the radio, Jake put his violin back in its case carefully, but when he recognized Phoenix's knock for a third time, because of course it had to be the fiery female pilot that loved to give him shit on a good day that caught him, he jumped and slammed the case shut.

Striding over, Jake took one last second to wipe any remnants of the tears the music caused him away before swinging open the door. He schooled his mask in place and tried to look annoyed, hoping to throw Phoenix away quickly, but he was met with not only the dark haired woman but her WSO behind as well. The addition of Bob shouldn't have been surprising, they seemed to be attached at the hip these days, but it still made Jake's haunches rise, now seemingly caught by both of them.

They were all silent for a moment before Natasha gave a long suffering sigh, "finally" she drawled.

Jake narrowed his eyes, "What?" he questioned, his tone a touch too emotional to play off his normal Hangman persona, "What do you want?"

"I want" Natasha grumbled out in clear annoyance, "for you to lower that classical music crap you're blasting. We can hear it down the whole barrack."

In what should have been a relieving moment, since Phoenix wrongfully assumed Hangman was listening to classical music and not playing it, Jake couldn't help but scoff in an indignation he didn't quite understand. His temper flashed, "right" he sneered, his trademark cold smirk growing, "can't upset precious Phoenix, god forbid someone does something she doesn't like."

Her dark eyes flashed as her nostrils flared, "Rich coming from you, but I shouldn't be surprised that you would have no decency for any of the rest of us. Thinking you own the place like you always do."

"It was just music-"

"It was loud-"

"We were trying to catch up on some sleep" Bob stepped in, playing mediator to the two high tempered pilots, "been a little difficult since the bird strike." Phoenix immediately shot her back-seater a traitorous look, no doubt hating for the man to expose a weakness so easily to Hangman of all people. Jake, however, stepped back with a shaky nod, understanding more than anyone the debilitation of night terrors. "Fine" he spoke up, curt but not mean. "I'll keep it down."

Bob looked grateful, a smile rising on his lips, "thank you" he replied back and then when his partner stayed silent, he cleared his throat. He lifted an eyebrow towards Natasha and when the woman caught it she rolled her eyes, "thank you" she murmured, before turning away and moving to go back to her own room. Bob looked to follow before his eyes caught something left on Jake's bed. "Wait?" the bespectacled man spoke up questioningly and Jake followed his gaze to see the bow he had failed to put away in his haste, "is that yours?" Bob continued.

"Yeah?" Jake couldn't stop the defensiveness in his tone, "so what?"

"You were playing before?" Bob looked weirdly delighted, his excitement making Phoenix turn back around, "you weren't listening to music, you were playing it."

"Look Baby on Board-"

But Jake's words were cut off as Natasha stalked back over, "That wasn't Bagman" she explained with all the certainty in the world, "that was a recording." She turned to her partner, "like we said before Bob, it was like a professional."

Somehow such a off-handed compliment from Phoenix of all people made Jake's stomach flip and his cheeks reddened. He held back the urge to run a anxious hand along the back of his neck. When he looked up he saw Bob's knowing stare on him, "Violin?" the WSO asked softly, smiling when he saw Hangman's small nod in return, "it was beautiful."

"Hang on" Phoenix pushed back forward, now heading into Jake's room uninvited. "That couldn't have been you, you don't have a violin."

"I do actually" the blond moved back to his guitar case, "it's here." Somehow if he kept his eyes downcast, he could ignore the burning blush of embarrassment at exposing himself like this. When Hangman undid the buckles and showed the small string instrument to the duo in front of him, Bob gave a acknowledging hum but Phoenix's brow furrowed. "So you really play?" the shock was slowly leaving Nat's tone, replaced by a lift that made Jake worry. "Yeah" he nodded, green eyes watching as the woman kneeled down next to his instrument, "I do."

"Okay" her fingers ghosted over the strings carefully, "so play us something."

"Excuse me?"

"Play us something" she looked up at him, face challenging. "If it really was you" she goaded, "you should have no problem."

Hangman rolled his eyes at the dare, "I'm not some street monkey" he reasoned.

"Are you scared?" her dark eyes were bright with mirth as she took a seat on Jake's bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Jake would be lying if he said it didn't send his heart into a somersault at the sight. His feelings for Phoenix had always seemed to simmer within him, but time and angry barbs between them had cauterized Hangman's hopes of anything ever happening. To see her now, sitting in his room, waiting for him to expose such a hidden and beloved part of his soul, was preposterously frightening. "Come on" Phoenix urged, though her voice lost a lot of its edge and seemed more curious. "Your audience is waiting."

As Bob moved to take his desk chair, Jake picked up his bow and sighed, relaxing his shoulders to get into position. Jake knew he could play the piece he had been working on before but something about seeing Natasha sitting there in front of him, her right foot tapping against her left in her impatience, made him think of another song. He started the first few notes, the look of recognition crossing Phoenix's face as the popular sound of Frank Sinatra's 'My Way' filled the tiny room. Jake knew Natasha had grown up in California, but something about the East Coast crooner that was Sinatra and his mantra of 'My Way' always made the blond think of the fiery female pilot. Natasha Trace was a force to be reckon with on a good day, an immoveable stone on a bad. She was unforgiving in her quest to get what she wanted and yet her drive helped encourage everyone around her to want to be at her level. She was a brilliant pilot to watch and even better to fly with, and even though Hangman left her on that first day, he only did it because he knew she could handle herself up there in the skies. Her getting in the way of his shot was an unfortunate circumstance and though Jake could have easily defended his actions and explained the situation, he knew he would always be delegated to Phoenix's enemy rather than her friend. Hangman knew his place despite how much it killed him.

As the song came to a close, Jake finally opened his eyes to see the twin looks of awe on his teammates' faces. When he put down his bow, the blond pilot prepared for the teasing but Bob began with a round of applause that Natasha joined. "That was great" the bespectacled WSO announced, "really great."

"Thank you" Hangman turned to put his instrument back down, properly this time, avoiding Phoenix's look. The woman scooted to the edge of the bed however, to watch him, "he's right" she finally spoke up, "it was great."

Jake's cheeks flushed with barely hidden pride, "told you I could play" he countered, meeting her eyes.

She smirked, her expression playful, "guess it's par for the course for a rich kid like you. Must of had a whole bunch of hobbies to impress mommy and daddy."

Jake's face fell as he thought about his childhood. Yes his family was wealthy, but they were poor in everything else that mattered: love, affection, conversations, attention. He tried to hide his shudder when he thought of his Father's reaction to him choosing to study a girly instrument instead of spending more time with a pigskin. "Yeah" he finally gasped, his face pale from unease of the memories, "something like that."

Sensing she messed up, Phoenix leaned closer, allowing a hand to catch Jake's arm, "hey" she called, until she finally managed to get him to look at her again, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." He closed the buckles on the guitar case and stood up from the floor. "Alright" he clapped his hands together, "concert is over now, you guys can go and get back to your naps or something."

Natasha sighed, "Bagman-"

"I said go" he nodded towards the door, "I don't think I need to show you the way."

Bob stood first, looking a little crestfallen, "well thanks" he murmured, heading out into the hallway. He didn't wait for Natasha, which was good as the short woman still hadn't moved from Jake's bed. Hangman crossed his arms defensively, "what Phoenix?" he shot out, his tone cold.

"Nothing" she shook her head before getting to her feet. She crossed the room and headed for the door, only stopping as her fingers gripped the door frame. As though debating with herself, Natasha waited a moment, then finally turned back around to look at Jake, "I guess we aren't always what we seem right?" she asked him, their eyes meeting.

"I guess not" he replied back, not exactly knowing what she meant but understanding enough to know that it went beyond the violin.

She nodded, "See you around Bagman" she called heading after Bob.

"Sweet dreams Phoenix" he whispered back, before shutting his door. He didn't go back to playing, honest in his hope that Phoenix and also Bob were able to catch up on sleep, but he felt he didn't exactly need to. The stress and uncertainty of what this mission would bring was still there but Jake felt lighter. He could only do what he could, could only prepare as best he could and have faith that the best possible outcome would unfold. He had to, because any alternative would break the blond beyond repair.

Also here is a link to the most beautiful cover of my way on a violin. I’m obsessed with it ❤️😊

[male-meat-suit]

CRIMINAL MIND + ANGEL BODY = PERFECT COMBINATION 4

The night was spectacular. I woke up the next morning in a messy bed, with a naked girl next to me, the one from the night before. I got up and dressed without the girl noticing. I wrote a note and left it at the foot of the bed, the night was spectacular and I would do it again at any time, but really I was just looking for sex.

When I leave the girl's house, I don't really know where I am, my motorcycle is parked on the street, I get on it and make it roar. I start the march to go to the house of my body. From what I could find out from the ID on his wallet, Tom lived alone with his father, his mother had died a few years ago in an accident, I actually remember hearing something in jail. I get to his house and when I go to open the door a pair of arms hold me tightly against the wall. Tom's father, Nick, looks at me with teary eyes. I'm stupid, I didn't realize that Tom is the ideal son, and having been missing for more than a day must have worried his father. I'm not used to people worrying about me, even though I'm not really their son.

Nick is a tall and burly man, and a sculpted muscle torso can be easily made out under his clothing. He has short dark hair and an extremely sexy bushy beard. He's the kind of man you want on your side in a fight. He wears a plaid shirt that doesn't really do any good for him and formal pants. He hugs me tightly, while he cries on my shoulder.

"Where were you? I was very worried and I already called the police. I thought I had lost you like your mother"

"Are you OK? Nothing wrong with you? God, you're going to be grounded until the day you die Tom, but you can't even imagine how happy I am right now. "

"I'm fine dad, nothing has happened to me. But I had to spend the night outside because I was locked up in the institute and I couldn't call anyone. I was in the warehouse all night and this morning the security guard took me out" .

It is evident that Tom does not usually lie, because his father believed me even though it is the worst lie I have ever told, just to get out of the moment of trouble. This can be a problem. I've been mulling over my decisions. I need revenge on those who testified against me in the trials but I can't do it alone. I need to reunite my old gang, but going to their meeting place in Tom's body is dangerous, both for Tom and me. I have promised that when my revenge is finished I will release Tom, and that is how it will be, but for now it is a very useful tool. However, for this occasion I think I could use another body. I need something that can perfectly control my gang in case they don't believe my story. Something masculine and threatening. I think I can kill two birds with one stone. Nick has the perfect body for this, and if I turn him into a suit, I'll save myself any future trouble with him. I have to thank the nerd who turned Tom into a suit, since he left one of the vials of the drug in Tom's clothes.

As I walk into the house, I inject the vial into Nick's back and watch it fall to the floor like a new suit. I don't really have time to explore his body like I'd like, so I just step out of Tom's body and gently lay him down on the couch. I undress Nick and lay him upright, I can admire that he has the body of a fucking Greek god. I think I could have fun later too but I don't have time. I go to what I think is his bedroom and pick out some clothes from his closet, something simple dark and tactical. I change into Nick's suit, get dressed, and head out the door to my bike. It's time to reunite the old gang.

[taxonomic-monster]

Balloon Doom story

Balloon Doom

By Taxonomic Enigma

(prologue) 

It's a late Friday evening and Josh, a man in his late twenties with short brown hair and a lean build, is finishing up his shift. He has diabetes, but he doesn't let that slow him down. He's kind, helpful and always willing to go the extra mile to make things easier for everyone. As the evening wears on, he finishes his shift at the Party Place for the night. He had just finished filling up 40 large balloons of various colors with helium for a last minute birthday party order. When he was done, the many colors of the balloons swayed in the dim light and Josh turned to head out when he heard a faint rattling sound.  Josh quickly turns around but doesn't see anything out of the ordinary, the halloween masks give off an eerie ambience in the night and the hanging decorations swayed in the air conditioning, and the many colors of the balloons sway in the balloon corral. He turns back around to leave when he hears it again, a faint rattling sound, this time with a soft squeaking noise. 

When Josh turns to once again see what is making the strange noise, he is immediately met with the balloons that he had previously filled rushing towards him, the mass and size of the balloons knocking him  to the ground.  Josh struggles to free himself from the balloons but becomes ever more entangled in them as he tries to pop the balloons in an attempt to free himself. Suddenly Josh starts to feel a searing pain around his neck, arms and legs, the balloon’s strings have become lancinating whips while the balloons themselves close in from all sides, their rubbery forms bobbing and jiggling to Josh's struggles and cries. 

 As Josh writhed in agony, trying desperately to free himself from the balloons' restricting hold, he grabbed his diabetic lancet and began to frantically pop the balloons. As Josh's fingers began to fly over the balloons, trying to pop each one as quickly as possible, his mind raced trying to figure out what was happening. Were there people behind this attack, or was it just a freak coincidence?  The next morning, another coworker walks into the party store to find the chilling scene, lying on the ground and covered in lacerations was Josh, his diabetic lancet still clutched in his hand “H-help me” Josh says with a shaky voice as he reaches out a bloodied hand.

My name is Adam, and as I sit here writing this, my hands shake and tears roll down my face as I recall the traumatic events that change my life

It started innocently enough, it was the middle of summer and as the sounds of birds chirping, people laughing, and the sizzle of a grill filled my ears my closest friends Gabe, the adventurous and outgoing friend who always pushes me out of my comfort zone, was manning the grill with mouth-watering burgers. Lisa, my fiercely independent and hardworking friend, was chatting and laughing with her mischievous younger siblings Sarah and Jake. Gabe's charismatic older cousin Mark, and his girlfriend Emily, were also there, adding to the lively atmosphere.

“So Adam, I heard you had a fear of balloons” Emily said as Gabe was passing out burgers. 

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat “Yeah, I've had it ever since I was 13” I admitted before taking a bite of my burger.

 “I actually have a cousin that has a phobia of balloons because of an accident at the party place he worked at,” Lisa said as everyone sat down to eat.

Jake chimed in with a snicker “You're afraid of balloons? That's hilarious!" they said, teasing Adam.

My mind went back to that fateful day when I was 13. I was at a birthday party, and there were lots of colorful balloons everywhere. I watched in horror as one of the balloons popped, sending tiny shards of latex flying everywhere. I was hit by one of the pieces, and it left a tiny cut on my face. Since then, the mere sight of balloons made me feel anxious and scared.

“Remind me again who has a fear of peanut butter sticking to their mouth”  Gabe said raising an eyebrow

Sarah and Lisa  burst out laughing, “Oh yeah, Jake, you're afraid of that!” they exclaimed.

Now it was Jake's turn to shift nervously in his seat, his face as pink as a medium rare steak. “It's not a fear, it's just a quirk.”

Sarah and Lisa both looked at each other and rolled their eyes

 “(cough) anyways who’s hogging the burger patties, I’m hungry” Jake said as everyone else sat down at a red plaid picnic table

As the day wore on  we  ate dinner and cracked open cold beers, played games, and shared stories, enjoying each other’s company, i let my guard loosen as i have a rare moment of bliss and even played balloon tag, letting a balloon bounce off me without flinching, but little did we know that this barbeque would be one of our last times together.

 It was late that evening and we said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. As Gabe and I went to our apartment, we talked about the events of the day and what tomorrow would bring. As soon as we entered the elevator something felt off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. We got ready to hit the sack,  but as I was in my room  getting ready for bed, something caught my eye from the apartment window. I looked to see a cluster of balloons tied to a post just outside the apartment, their many colors and swollen forms gleaming menacingly in the light of the street lamp.  my pulse quickened and I shuddered as I tried to shrug it off and go to sleep.

I woke up in my room to see it filled with balloons. I started to feel a sense of unease as I walked cautiously through them, feeling the rubbery texture against my skin. As I tried to make my way out of the room, I realized the balloons were closing in on me. They were suffocating me, wrapping tightly around my arms, chest, and neck. I could barely breathe, and every attempt to move made me feel like I was moving at a snail's pace then the balloons lunged at me, covering my face in their rubbery embrace. I tried to scream but only muffled cries came out.

 Then, a hand reached out and grabbed me. "Wake up!" a voice shouted. I opened my eyes and found myself staring at my friend gabe, who had heard the commotion. "You were screaming in your sleep," he exclaimed. "I tried to wake you up, but you kept flailing around, everything okay?"

I shook my head, still trying to catch my breath. It was the same nightmare that had haunted me since I was a child. It was the reason why I dreaded birthday parties and avoided the circus."I had a nightmare," I explained.

"What kind of nightmare?" He asked curiously.

I hesitated, wondering if I should even tell him. But the words poured out of me before I could stop them. "I was trapped in a room with thousands of balloons, and they kept multiplying until they filled the whole room. Then, they started suffocating me."

Lisa soon joined us, having heard the commotion. "What happened?" she asked, her face etched with concern.

“Adam had a nightmare,” game said in a calm voice.

It’s from your phobia isn't it?” Lisa asked in a concerned voice

I nodded feeling a bit embarrassed, Gabe’s eyes widened with disbelief. "That's creepy," he shuddered, "I hate balloons. They're so unpredictable."

"Me too, but I've never had a nightmare like that before," I admitted, still feeling shaken.

We went back to sleep and woke up the next day trying to shake the remnants of my dream off.  I couldn't help but I could feel a sense of unease. Even though I tried to push it to the back of my mind, I kept thinking about the balloons that seemed to be everywhere we went. From the mall where we picked out gifts for Sarah and Jake's upcoming birthdays, to the rooftop bar where we had drinks and watched the sunset, their buoyant shapes danced in the distance, there was always a balloon or two in sight. Then one day, Gabe, Lisa, and I went for a walk in the park, talking about the events of the  other night.

“It's weird, it's like I could tell they had a sinister intent,” I said , perplexed.

"sinister intent? ok now you're starting to freak me out " Gabe said nervously

I couldn't blame him, it was starting to feel like we were being watched. It was like the balloons were following us, but that was ridiculous, right?

"I know it sounds crazy," I said, my own nerves starting to get the best of me. "But every time we turn a corner, there's another balloon. And they're not just regular balloons, they're all black."

Lisa looked at me with concern etched on her face. "Do you think it's some sort of sign?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "But it's starting to feel like we're being targeted. What if someone is trying to send us a message?"

Gabe scoffed slightly. "Come on, man. It's just balloons. You're letting your phobia get the best of you."

But Lisa was quick to defend me. "It's not just about his phobia, Gabe. Adam has a point. It's not just a coincidence that we keep seeing these balloons, what if someone is trying to send us a message?"

Gabe rolled his eyes. "Come on, guys. It's just balloons. We're not talking about some horror movie villain here." 

But Lisa wouldn't be deterred. "Adam's fear of balloons may be irrational, but it's still real. And if something is making him feel like the balloons are out to get him, we should take it seriously."

We continued to walk in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the rustling of leaves beneath our feet. I could sense that we were all feeling the tension, and I knew that I wasn't the only one with the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right.

What we did not know is that my nightmare was about to become a reality and the next thing I knew everything went black. I wake up to the feeling of something light tickling my face and the rumbling of a truck, as I lift my hand up to brush whatever it is away I hear a chorus of rubbery squeaks and feel the unmistakable sensation of latex and rubber on my skin. My vision comes into focus and to my horror i see the seemingly endless number of balloons that now surround me, all of them are different colors and sizes . panicked, i started pushing the balloons away from me only for them to be shuffled around in response, suddenly one of the balloons popped and i cried out in agony and fear as  pain shot up my arm where the balloon popped. 

"A-Adam?!" a concerned voice called out, I'm relieved to know that it’s Gabe,

 "Gabe, where are you?" i ask, my voice trembling  from the shock as i try to calm down

“Over here man,” Gabe said. I looked around to where I heard Gabe’s voice but all I could see were balloons, then I saw a hand poke out from the balloons and push them aside.

As i see gabes face, his expression immediately changes from flustered to worried as i start to hyperventilate from being surrounded by balloons

“It’s ok bud, just breathe” Gabe says as he helps me up and looks around, “where are we?”

 "i don't know, i remember walking with you in the park when all of a sudden i hear a loud bang and the next thing i know i wake up surrounded by these  damn balloons" i say 

Suddenly the feeling of moving stopped and the floor we were on tilted upwards and Gabe and I slid along with it. Soon we were dropped into a large, dimly lit room filled with even more large balloons. I slammed onto a  large clear balloon as i fell to the ground, knocking the air out of me and a moment later Gabe landed beside me, jerking to one side as he hit a balloon only to land on another one that pops with a deafening bang as he cried out in agony, i panicked as he disappeared under the large balloons.

“Gabe!” I cried, rushing to comfort my friend and help him out from under the balloons as he struggled to get up.

“I'm ok, where the hell are we?” Gabe said as he rubbed his sore arm

“Beats me,” I said, as we looked at our surroundings

As we got a hold of our surroundings  we see an endless field of large balloons ranging from red, blue, yellow, green, to some being transparent and having stars, polkadots, and stripes, rubbing against each other in a chorus of rubbery squeaks that made my heart beat so fast it was threatening to burst out.  As Gabe and I stood  there, equally confused, we heard sobbing and someone calling out “help, someone please help me!” It was Sarah and she sounded panicked, Gabe and I exchanged worried looks as we ran towards her voice as fast as we could. “Hold on, we're coming” I said as we stumbled through the balloons, the overwhelming fear that I felt  as we did so was as clear as day we saw Sarah lying in the fetal position, she had balloons tied to her arms, legs, and neck and Sarah was struggling to break free.

"It's okay, Sarah, we're here now," I said calmly, as Gabe began to pop the balloons and untie her. "Just take deep breaths, everything's going to be alright

Afterwards Sarah told Gabe and I about how she, Jake, and Lisa went through the same thing as Gabe and I had. They went out for lunch and when they left, there was a loud bang and everything went black . 

We took a further look at our situation, that's when we heard something that made our heart stop.  A bloodcurdling scream followed by a sickening pop and a thud as we hear someone falling to the ground in a rattle of balloons. When we rushed towards the sound, I could see Lisa lying on the ground covered in lacerations and breathing shallowly, tied with balloons in the same way Sarah had been. “Lisa!” Gabe shouted as we ruched towards our friend,

 “I don’t want to die like this” Lisa sobbed, yet as her life drained away all of us were dreading the inevitable as Gabe sarah and I tried to comfort Lisa in her last moments, with her last breath Lisa was gone, her innocent features forever staring into the abyss. 

As Sarah sobbed at her sister’s death Gabe and I held back our own tears as a sense of livid build up inside of us at the loss of our friend, anger fueling our determination to survive this nightmare. As we trudged and pushed through the large balloons that filled the warehouse, their colors glinting in the dim light and rubbery squeaks seemed to mock us, a constant reminder of Lisa’ death.

 As we continued further into what now seems like a large abandoned warehouse we found Mark who had managed to fashion some weapons out of a backup set of keys he kept in his back pocket and with a new sense of courage we popped as many balloons as we could as the warehouse filled with the rubbery sounds and deafening pops of the balloons. After an hour of fighting off the balloons, they retreated, leaving behind a pile of shredded rubber, bloodied and bruised, we made our way through the warehouse once more. 

Soon, we ran into Emily and Jake at which point, Emily's face lit up as she recognized us, and she ran into Mark's arms. Sarah and I hung back, trying to steel ourselves for the terrible news we had to deliver. Finally, we approached Jake, his face twisted in anticipation.

“I'm sorry for making fun of your phobia, now i know why you hate balloons”

 Sarah's voice was barely a whisper as she spoke the words we had all been dreading. "Jake," she said, "we have to tell you something. It's about Lisa." 

Instantly, Jake's face changed. Anguish and fear flickered across his features as he struggled to process what we were telling him. Tragedy struck again though as Emily  and Mark were mercilessly ripped from each other as a single large balloon plunges its razor string into Mark’s chest in a horrifying scene, through the shock he looks down at the gruesome wound.

“E-Emily” Mark weakly says as he crumples to the ground as Emily cries “Mark, NO!” A thud is  heard as Mark falls to the ground, bouncing off of the balloon attached to the stiff razor string that now impales his chest. Emily runs to Mark’s side as his breathing grows shallower and his voice barely a whisper, blood trickling from his mouth. Mark coughs as he whispers “I-I don’t think I’m going to make it” 

“Mark don’t say that” Emily pleads as she tries to staunch the bleeding on Mark's wound “we’re going to get out of here” Mark places a trembling hand on Emily's cheek, their eyes locked in a heart-wrenching moment. Despite the pain, he manages a faint smile. As Mark gasps in agony, he whispers,“tell my family I-” His voice trails off, his body growing limp in Emily's embrace as his life slips away.

Emily sobs as she cries out “Mark? MARK!”  “Mark, wake up dammit!” “I can't do this without you”. Emily feels a devastating emptiness in her chest, as if her heart has been ripped out along with Mark’s as the balloons draw ever closer, the eerie sinister rubber forms squeak and rustle as they tumble over each other, closing in on Emily

“We have to go!” I say as I grab Emily’s arm, I spot a hole in the wall and we make a run for it, however our escape is cut short as a balloon stabs its razor string through Emily’s leg, she cries out in pain as she collapses to the ground.  The four of us  just managed to reach the door when a cascade of large balloons started falling down, their unexpected dense weight making it impossible for us to escape. “ Go! I'll hold them off, '' Jake told Sarah as he struggled to hold back the killer balloons. Sarah looked back and saw Jake struggling “I’ll be right behind you”. 

We all made a break for it as Jake started bursting balloons, each one disappeared in a sickening pop. Eventually  we heard his agonized cries fill the air as the balloons descended on him. As we ran for the exit we could  hear  the balloons right behind us rattling as they cascaded down toward us. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as we sprinted towards freedom, our escape just within reach. But then, suddenly, everything went dark. The last thing I heard were the screams of my friends. When I awoke, it was to the chime of hospital machinery and the sight of my friends in hospital beads, a nurse came in and I asked “are they going to be ok?”

The nurse said they will recover with some rest and explained that we had been found outside a field near the national park, unconscious and battered. We were lucky to have been discovered when we were; any longer and we might not have survived.

Days passed in the hospital and we were visited by the police who asked us what had happened. We hesitated at first, not knowing if we should reveal the truth about what happened that day for fear of being ridiculed. But eventually, we told them the whole story. At first, the police looked at us skeptically, but as we spoke, their expressions softened. They could see the fear and trauma in our eyes, and they knew we were telling the truth.

I write this as a warning that even the most innocent and harmless things could turn into our worst nightmares and I guess as a form of closure and tribute to Lisa, Mark, and Jake, who lost their lives to those killer balloons.

(Epilogue) 

As Gabe and I sit at the park, I think back to the horrors that we faced in that abandoned warehouse that I so vividly remember. Gabe's hand on my shoulder snaps me back to the present moment and i look up at him with a pained expression, "i can't believe they're gone, it should have been me" i say, my voice shaking with emotion tears rolling down my face “I know, but they wouldn't want us to give up like this” gabe says as he gently tightens his grip on my shoulder and i look up at him with a sad but determined look, a half hour passes as we sit on the bench for a while  and as we get up, we head towards the hospital to see  Lisa's cousin Josh and get some answers. As we enter the hospital room, we see Sarah sitting by Josh's side as he lays in a hospital bed, his face bruised and bandaged from the attack of the killer balloons. Sarah looks up at us with red and puffy eyes, and we exchange a somber greeting before pulling up chairs beside her. 

For a moment, we sit in silence, unsure of how to begin. Finally, I speak up, my voice cracking with emotion.

"How is he doing?" I ask Sarah, trying to keep my voice steady.

Sarah shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "He's in a lot of pain, but the doctors say he's going to make it. He's lucky to be alive."

The words hit me hard, and my mind races back to the moment when I thought I was going to die. I can't even imagine what Josh must have gone through, trapped and wounded by those deadly balloons.

As we sit by Josh's side, we share stories about Lisa, Mark, and Jake, remembering the moments we shared with them before everything went wrong. Gabe shares a story about the time Mark convinced him to jump off a cliff into a river, and we all laugh through our tears. As the moments ticked by, we sat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. It was Sarah who finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember that time we went to the beach?" she asked, her eyes still brimming with tears.

I nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the heaviness in my heart. "Yeah, Lisa drew that amazing sandcastle. I still can't believe she did that all by hand."

Sarah gave a small laugh, wiping the tears from her face. "And do you remember when Jake stole Gabe's phone and buried it in the sand, and we had to dig it out?"

Gabe chuckled, a spark of life returning to his eyes. "Yeah, little punk thought it was hilarious."

For a moment, it felt like the weight of our loss was lifting, replaced by the warmth of memories shared. It wasn't enough to make up for all that we had lost, but it was a start. Then we heard Josh stir, as we looked over, I could see that he's in a lot of pain. I reach out to take his hand, and he grips it tightly, his eyes closing in a grimace. "Hey, buddy," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "How are you feeling?"

Josh takes a deep breath, and for a moment, I can see the fear in his eyes. I know how he feels, trapped and vulnerable, and I don't want to make things worse for him. Gabe leans in, his voice low. "It's okay, man. You're safe now."

Josh nods, his grip on my hand relaxing a little. "Thanks," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "I don't know what happened. It was like they came alive, i tried to tell my other coworkers but they all thought i was crazy"

Josh says with a puzzled look "then i start seeing strange creatures, each one begging for help  with faces of rage sorrow and fear"

I exchange a worried look with Gabe. It seems like Josh's experience with the balloons was more than just a physical attack. It sounds like he experienced something...otherworldly. As we learn more about Josh's experience with the balloons, a chill runs down my spine. His description of seeing strange creatures begs the question: was this just a freak accident, or is there something more sinister at play? I can't help but think back to my own traumatic experience with balloons that left me with a phobia, wondering if there's some sort of connection.

[maironsbigboobs]

Finarfin/Earwen ship meme?

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Forever! They had a seperation arc but they got better

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Arvo was crushing on her from like age 14

How was their first kiss? - Cute. Arvo was extremely flustered and awkward.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Arvo. Eärwen wanted to but Arvo is impossible to surprise.

Who is the best man/men? - Most likely one of Eärwen's brothers

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Anairë? Or maybe Findis or Lalwen or one of Eärwen's teleri friends, or all of the above.

Who did the most planning? - They planned it all together

Who stressed the most? - Arvo, by his nature

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big. (Can't not be fancy, it's a double royal wedding)

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - No one.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Usually Eärwen

Who is the one to instigate things? - Either

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - They need an hour minimum, they don't do things by halves.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - Canonically, 4

How many children will they adopt? - N/A

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - I think they probably have nursemaids but at other times they take turns

Who is the stricter parent? - Neither. They can't say no to them

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Arvo, he's anxious.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Arvo

Who is the more loved parent? - I think Eärwen, mostly they take after her

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - They go together

Who cried the most at graduation? - Arvo

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Eärwen

Cooking: 

Who does the most cooking? - Arvo

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Also Arvo

Who does the grocery shopping? - They go together 90% of the time

How often do they bake desserts? - Arvo does every week

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Fish!

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Arvo

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Eärwen

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Neither

Chores: 

Who cleans the room? - Arvo, he finds it relaxing. Though - when they are in their Tirion house or in Tirion's/Alqualondë's palace they most likely have housekeeping, but in their private home I think they only employ a housekeeper intermittently.

Who is really against chores? - Neither

Who cleans up after the pets? - Arvo. He wants to keep all those birds, he can clean up after them

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Eärwen, maybe.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Arvo

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Eärwen

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Arvo, he's preening

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Eärwen, the kids once they're older

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Every holiday when the kids are little, not so much once they are grown

What are their goals for the relationship? - To have a happy peaceful marriage as best friends and lovers and to raise their kids and for everything to be fine, always and forever - oh dear..

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Arvo with his headaches.

Who plays the most pranks? - Eärwen

[libidomechanica]

And welcoming mild

” “Their silver, or raven’s being.     —The worse below that they nould bewray, while far excell and     wayward melancholy

college light; she sits her brethren     were dead! I have hooted thus holy! In five month became     her down. One gem was lost

a things about whose might turn the     though the way among shephard once more than howl incessant     miseries as Queene in

gold, the snake where she said, and sooty,     and it utterance, bide each beaked promontory.     And wear his gold. Trees do

learn’d aught ease; and his wesand before     eleven; her beauties peece, as free winds best recapture     in strife, she said, My

life—send honey’d rain is or every     spot where and night, the half alcohol, to the swine with     man his nether tongue fault

of all confused to floater, that     July 21st place for thee is but thou dost love doth hasty     accident. She counts and

you in the blind Fury with an     evermore. The lofty loue why he love-lorn hour ago,     on Johnny is not yet

unwish thou when we walke not beguile     makes their first time I vanish: wept they’re give more than the     shining eyes and the ioyfulst

day comes clear well away the     morning, who is here growest: so lost just have your sighs laboure     his hands o’ life that

to vs be false death! I see     the clear elements, ye nymphs that we may giver, the middle     of Wyoming flow,

that’s out of alle wommen my     tears fell from moats and here be more sweet; myriads of rain and     sink admiration of

a bird them master of the voice     was when the breaks the poor dear religion of the lawn in     bare fix’d in little children’s

cries. I will begins to stammer     weather’s clamorings all are blue eyes that man’s art a     girl as much of shepheard

long night, even boys and his westerne     wind like a foule horror free from the earth. No such     as dodge conception be

back tongues were we ourselves to the     adulteration of all the factory cursing, bend     the moss’d her heart, I read

thou mayst thou, all powers I note,     and was their bells and brand his early glistenings matter     must return. Until evening

sate; till the suddenly, whom     nakd the golden shrine, and flush with quilled it struck with     denial vain to me how,

with a bootless fancy.—If Johnny,     every word bringes like in copses green gleams—in what     I must spell of miserye.

[probablyintensemuses]

The Happenings In the Art of Starting Over

Summary:

series masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes is a broken man who is whisked away to the remote and serene land of Wakanda. His colleagues begin to believe if there is anyone who could try and help him it will be Irene. And try she will. But healing Bucky won't come easy, he is stubborn and scared and wants nothing to do with Irene and her powers. Helping Bucky will be a journey of trials and tribulations, Irene knows that. And yet, she still saunters over to him with a smile

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!Mutant! OC

Word Count:

I do NOT give permission for my work to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. My work is my own.

CHAPTER THREE

The clappering pace of Tony's Tom Ford shoes against the tile gave Irene more anxiety than the nauseating mixture of bleach smells and the daunting blue walls that surrounded her. Tony had been running his hands through his hair and messaging his temples for the past ten minutes not speaking to Irene.

She had returned to the compound, blood all over her and still soaking wet. Immediately she was taken in by medics and Tony wasn't too far behind them. Now she sat in a hospital bed, twiddling her thumbs waiting for Tony to say something—anything to kill this anticipation boiling in her stomach.

"You know.' Tony finally spoke, Irene's eyes immediately glued to his. "I could kill cap for this, punch em' in his perfect teeth." Tony pulled a stool beside Irene's bed, taking a seat.

"You don't mean that." She said, holding Tony's hand.

"Oh, I do. He kidnapped you, put you in a room with that psychopath—,"

Irene interjected. "He's not that bad. He's just scared."

"How would you know? He's a criminal, Irene." Tony argued.

"Because I went inside his head." Irene told the truth, clenching her eyes shut.

"You fucking did what?" Tony's question came off more as a shout.

"It wasn't on purpose." She winced, holding her side.

"But that was!" Tony pointed to Irene's visible neck bruise. "He hurt you, Irene. And if I would have lost you kid." Tony sighed, his eyes misting over.

"I know.' Irene pulled Tony's head towards hers, gently connecting their foreheads. "It was an accident." She whispered, her voice reassurance for Tony.

"I don't want you near em', any of em'.' Tony shook his head. "Not cap, not bird suit, and especially not Barnes."

Irene sighed, pulling her forehead from Tony's. She knew he was right. There was a war coming, and she wanted nothing to do with it. After all, she couldn't fight her family. But even as she laid in this hospital bed, drugged up and all. She still saw flashes of his face. He was cold and broken—his face looked barren of light.

She had never been in a more empty and numb mind. It pained her, then Steve saying she had pulled him back and had cracked Hydras code. It was beginning to seem she was the only person who could do it.

Irene slowly leaned back onto the pillow behind her.  "I think I stopped him." She whispered, a lone tear spilling sideways out of her eye.

"What?" Tony asked.

"I barely know my power, not like I thought I did.' She sniffled. "When he choked me, Tony I let go of everything. And suddenly I was in a different plane, it was his mind. And I thought the crevices of his subconscious was the scariest part, turns out the scariest part is that the real Bucky Barnes is trapped there, buried beneath years of mind control and manipulation." She explained.

"No, don't do that.' Tony shook his head. "That empathetic crap."

"It's not crap! He's hurting Tony, he was like a wounded deer in there! You have no idea how that feels to experience someone's else's mind like that!" Irene shouted through her tears.

"And what does that have to do with you, Irene?' He grew angrier. "Huh?"

"Everything—nothing, fuck! I don't know!" Irene burst into tears, cradling her face in her hands. "I just want us all to be a family again." She cried.

Tony kneeled besides her, he shouldn't have yelled. He knew how Irene felt about this family, as she called it. She cherished all of these people more than herself sometimes. His heartaches and he now felt bad for pressing her on what she had endured. He hated to admit it to himself, but he knew her well enough to know. She had already gained sympathy for the devil.

"I'm sorry kid, okay?' He rubbed her hand. "I shouldn't have yelled."

A cough erupted from behind them both. Natasha stood underneath the frame of the door, looking between Tony and Irene.

"We need you." She nodded at Tony.

"I'll come back later." Tony sighed, talking to Irene who had rolled over on her side.

Irene didn't speak, she sniffled as Tony's boots clambered out of the room. She tucked her pillow into her side, squeezing it tight. She hated conflicting feelings, and she could feel them beginning to bubble in her stomach. She wanted desperately for them to stop and go away.

Irene suddenly winced in pain, holding her cheek in her palm. She sat up, her eyes flashing purple at Natasha.

"Why did you do that?" She growled.

"Here." Natasha shook the paper in her hand, urging Irene to take it.

"What is this?" Irene asked, taking the paper within her hands.

"It's from Steve." Natasha said.

"What does he want?" She held the letter, staring down at his penmanship.

"I think the better question is, what do you want?" Natasha turns around, swiftly leaving the room.

She stuck the letter underneath her pillow, burrowing further into the rough hospital blanket. She made her choice, but then again, she had also made the choice to be a hero. And she couldn't be a true hero if she didn't help the people—no matter how bloody their past.

Irene bit the inside of her lip, pulling the letter from underneath her pillow. She tore it open, her eyes scanning back and forth against Steve's words. He was convincing, she'll give him that. She groaned throwing herself back onto her pillows. Maybe she should have read all the pages of the accord and not just the first ten.

Visions brain was incompressible. He never failed to make an understanding of things from what seemed a logical place. But the truth was vision was practically a new born, but with a very old soul and an IQ that was simply unmeasurable. Irene could see how someone as emotional as Wanda could fall in love with him. The mixture of purity and intellectualism was indeed alluring.

Vision sat besides Irene, the two of them using subtle thrust of momentum to push themselves on the hammock they both occupied. Vision gave Irene a small smile and she gave him one back. Both their eyes immediately returning to the green grass full of little sprouting flowers, along with the sunlight that shined on the pound in front of them, it was nearly blinding but yet so beautiful.

Initially she had come to ask about Wanda, her best friend who was too prideful to come see her. Only sending her condolences for Irene's injuries through her passionate lover. It crushed Irene, she loved Wanda so much. She truly thought they were only having a spat, and she was very much so over it. Turns out Wanda didn't feel the same.

"Irene." Visions delicate voice broke through the sounds of nature.

"Hm?" Irene asked, basking in the sunlight, a tiny breeze flowing through her hair.

"I get the sense that you're in a bit of a bind.' He spoke with his hands. "Between your loyalties to Mr. Stark and the avengers as well as the people of this planet."

"I'm that frantic up there, huh?" Irene chuckled pointing to her head.

"A bit, yes." Vision laughed. "But the way I see it, couldn't both be true?"

Irene tilted her head, moving closer to Vision, giving him to gist to continue on with his claims.

"Couldn't it be true that you could help Mr. Barnes as Mr. Rogers has inquired about, while also remaining loyal to Mr. Stark and the accords." He stated.

"But Vision, that's impossible." Irene stood.

Vision rubbed his chin which was a plated piece of silver vibranium. "Yes I see.' He nodded. "I've never felt the need to put myself first Miss Watson, because for the longest time I wasn't a self, I was nearly a mind without a body. But you are a self, you've always been. So doesn't it stand to reason that you should do what best for yourself. No matter if it's changed in such a wavering moment."

Irene stood awestruck by vision. He was truly amazing, saying everything so logically but yet bound by empathy. This was the reason that immediately after his birth, he quickly became one of her favorite family members.

"Whatever you're feeling inside, I believe that is your truest path you should embark on.' Vision continued. "I believe none of it has to do with your loyalties to anyone, but to your loyalties with yourself and doing what is right."

"But what is right?" Irene sighed, smoothing her white dress behind her legs and crouching down onto the grass.

"Some wrongs are right to others. Some rights are wrong to another.' Vision stood from the hammock, the release of weight making it float in the wind like a ghost. "It's all about finding what's right for you."  He walked away, leaving Irene with that.

Irene leaned her head back, cradling her knees before the dam burst. She was sobbing again. As much as she loved Tony and this home they had built together; she couldn't regret the decision to leave home. It was partially her powers own fault.

When she enters the mind of someone they leave something with her, rather good or bad she can't shake the feeling—the connection. And with Bucky Barnes it was no different.

She felt deeply troubled by what she saw, so connected to his subconscious that she couldn't sleep at night. She couldn't walk this earth knowing his mind was fragmented like that. Especially when she could possibly help put it back together.

So, she left. Fighting tirelessly against every fiber that told her to stay. She just hoped Tony didn't love her any less. Because if it was him sitting in that dark and cold room as he had been once before, she would do anything to pull him back.

Irene stepped off the jet, placing her bags beside her body. The blood orange and yellow skyline looked hazy from heat that engulfed her. The jets fans close proximity made her sway like the tall grass ahead of her. She was certainly far from home now.

She turned her head, seeing Steve and T'challa, who'd she had briefly met walking side by side. She smiled somberly in their direction, they waved her over. She pulled her luggage handles up and walked towards them, her heels clicking against the cement as she approached their stalled positions.

Steve immediately pulled Irene in for a hug. The two embraced for a moment, before Steve whispered onto her hairline.

"I'm sorry to make you do this, Irene.' He said, with soft blue eyes. "I know how much Tony means to you,  how much we all mean to you."

"Thanks Steve, that means a-lot." Irene smiled, wiping her eyes.

"I also thank you, the decision you've made was a tough one Miss Watson. Nevertheless brave.' T'challa spoke, nudging towards the mammoth palace that sat behind them. "Allow me to show you to your quarters, there is lot to learn about Mr. Barnes condition before the feast tonight."

"Feast?" Irene asked, as Steve and T'challa both took a piece of her luggage walking on either side of her.

"A thank you from my mother and I.' He smiled. "It'll be like nothing you've ever tasted."

"I hope so,' Irene smiled, gently patting her soft stomach. "Because I'm starved."

[theautotrophic]

Random stuff for my Owl House Night Bird AU

I can’t believe TOH is over *screams cries shits urself*

And that this is my first post after it already ended even though I’ve been lurking around here on and off for years

Anyways-

I have a bunch of random sketches of my owl house Swap Shuffle AU (AKA The Night Bird AU) where I just shoved everyone into random roles wherever I wanted them to be

We’ve got Amity in Hunter’s role as the Garnet Guard. (I’m still trying to figure out her design)

We’ve got Hunter who takes Luz’s role as the human (WHO ACTUALLY HAS A DECENT PARENT, BELOS IS A NICE OLD MAN IN THIS BECAUSE IT IS WHAT HUNTER DESERVES) who finds the Demon Realm by accident and just decides to live there now. Also he has a deer hoodie now because we are turning all the bad things into good things unless I just decide not to.

And Luz in King’s role, now as a witch who lives in the Owl House as the unofficially adopted kid to the Raven Lady (Lilith takes Eda’s role in this and Eda takes Lilith's. They are like the only two who actually swap).

Hopefully I’m gonna actually start posting every now and then but we’ll see

[thegirlwh0bl0ckedher0wnsh0t]

Moose’s Daughter

1.“One drink is too many but a million is not enough.” These words poured out of my mother’s mouth and into my ears and while I never made sense of them in my childhood, an older and wiser me understood.

2.The number of people living in my father’s body; him, and an alcoholic. My father was clever, creative and artistic. The alcoholic was mean and tired. Both of them still took the time to slash and fry the bologna for a morning biscuit, so I didn’t mind.

3.Three young boys, older than I, watching their father. Picking up his humor, his presence, his absence, his habits.

4.The fourth valentines day of my life, he sent me roses at daycare.

5.The channels we could pick up on his TV. On his weekends I was raised on PBS Kids, Bernie Mac, and VHS tapes of McDonalds movies. 

6.He said he’s coming to pick me up and take me to get a biscuit and go fishing. I pack my Barbies and a book in my backpack. I sit on my front porch. The sun set at 6 PM. I never got my biscuit.

7.This is how old I was when he called my mom from the hospital, telling her he had been in an accident shooting at birds off his porch. I cried to him on the phone telling him he has to be more careful. He cries and agrees.

8.This Christmas he got me a pink Nintendo DS Lite. He got me the Nintendogs game I wanted. I sit next to him at breakfast and we laugh over scrambled eggs and bacon.

9.The years I had lived when I stayed the night with my grandmother. I saw his truck headlights pour into the living room. I ran outside, bare feet pounding the gravel, the moon shining through an amber bottle he held behind the steering wheel stopped me. I ran away from him for the first time.

10. A decade of trying to mend a relationship I hadn’t broken. I started calling another man “dad”. I still do. 

11. He comes over one afternoon after school. My parents aren’t home. I hide under the bed. My brother tells him to leave.

12. I don’t hear from him much this year. I sit next to him at breakfast on Christmas. We don’t speak.

13. He got a job at a BBQ joint. He brings the baked potatoes that didn’t sell. We unwrap them one by one and toss them into the hog pen. He tells me about his day.

14. My brothers go to prison.

15. I got into private school. My mom asks for help for my tuition. He said his child support should be enough. She yells. He yells. His side of the family throws me a going away party. It feels like I am his last hope of a legacy.

16. Every phone call starts off with “I haven’t drank today”. I have learned not to answer the calls after 8 PM.

17. I left private school.

18. I was the first of his kids to graduate high school. He missed it because he was in rehab.

19. He carved me a pipe out of purple heart wood for Christmas. He asks if I want a drink.

20. Every man I chase love from has the smell of rye on his breath.

21. No contact.

22. No contact.

23. No contact.

24. No contact.

25. I dry my tears long enough to walk into the ICU. There is the man who was the monster in all of my closets, chest being pumped automatically. He looks so small. The nurse asks who I am, what is my reason for visiting him. “I am his daughter.” I replied. Days later he passes. The alcoholic in him died, too. He was sober.

[sweethurtss]

okay, hear me out: one more werewolf OC for the road because I found the icons for this fc and I miss using her

Andi Barnes. Women want her, fish fear her. She's a former rodeo queen and loves barrel racing, and the occasional bull riding. She keeps her horse down on Aurelius' ranch, so she's always down there even though she has her own apartment in town.

It's not rare for the girl with a lopsided smile and helping hand to steal a heart or two. And Andi, as Aurelius would say, is a big fan of the ladies (and fellas).

Who is going to stop me from saying that she's not also a part of my firefighting team of muses?? I think she'd enjoy the hard work, challenges, and being able to help people. There's nothing she hates more than feeling helpless, and wants to make sure other people know there is always someone there who will help them when they need it most.

This mindset is exactly why she's quite close with Aurelius, even looking up to him as a mentor; and is also very patient with Berkley and all his mood swings. Andi is actually Berk's sparring partner, always down to play fight and wrestle with him when he just needs to blow some steam off.

tw for violence and death

She was ten years old when she was bitten and turned into a werewolf. She had gone out duck hunting with her uncle when they got separated, she had thought it was a simple accident and didn't think much about it since she was quite familiar with the area and knew how to get back to the truck in case she couldn't find her uncle.

Unfortunately, she did find him. His body as cold and unmoving as ice. Distracted by the gore, she never even saw the large wolf until it had already descended upon her. With her foot jammed against the beast's throat, she managed to buy herself enough time to grab the bear mace from her pocket and spray the wolf's face until it doubled over in pain.

Running back to the truck, parked along the road, Andi managed to wave down a truck and begged the driver to take her into town. Her mauled arm and bloody pantleg was enough to earn her quick passage to the clinic as she bawled and cried about a wolf attack.

end of tw

Aside from the grief and occasional reporter who appeared on her doorstep, life went back to relative normal for Andi. If by normal, that meant odd cravings for rare steak and chasing after small game (rabbits and birds) as the moon began to grow fuller and fuller. The first shift was frightening, and if she had to describe it, she would simply say that it was pain because that's all she can remember. She awoke two days later, covered in blood and a blanket fastened tightly around her.

So small and young, it had broken Aurelius' heart when he first came into the chicken coop her father had locked her in amid her first shifting — unsure how else to subdue his daughter without hurting her.

It had even been her father who came knocking on Aurelius' door, furious and confused in between the raging fear that he was going to lose his daughter so soon after losing his brother. The werewolf, taking in 'troubled teens', had been the Barnes' neighbor and the only man Andi's father trusted to keep her secret and help keep her safe.