#Really want to cut it down and make it snappier

[thecathulhu]

People think that beauty is delicate That metamorphosis is an orderly and clean process

The caterpillar does not politely nibble on a leaf A bland and inoffensive diet She ravenously consumes She devours She is so very hungry and so very scared She doesn't know why She does not understand and can not comprehend This is all she knows This dread is all she knows Everyone feels this way Right?

The chrysalis is not a chaste garment A modest covering for the benefit of others It is a fortress It is a prison It shuts out the lights The sounds The gnashing beaks The grasping claws She dared to turn her gaze to heaven She dared to think of what might be She dared to question the way things are Now they know her Now they hunt her Now she hides She hopes her paranoia was strong enough Her fear tight enough Its the only thing holding her fucking guts in Hate and hope guide her in equal measure She remakes herself Cut By Bloody Cut

The cocoon is old and week It no longer protects her She uses all her strength Just to rip her world apart Desperate to escape Safety that no longer fits her Ugly and exhausted she clings to solid ground Never far from the remains of her previous life She stands naked under the light of a new sun Its light scouring her Searching for weakness Even as it caresses her Its gaze both reveals and admires her Under that baleful eye She finds herself in a new world Of beauty and color Danger is found everywhere Sustenance is scarce Opportunities few and far between She is fearless She takes flight

[radiant-reid]

Blurb of Spencer and reader angst with fluff whatever scenario you want love

Every time you think about it, you feel lucky to be happily married to Spencer for a few years. From the first time you met, you were a perfect match, both intellectually curious and endlessly supportive of each other's careers.

But recently, things had been rough.

Spencer has been dealing with a particularly difficult case at work, and it has starting to take a toll on him. He finds himself coming home later and later each night, and when he’s at home, he’s distant and preoccupied.

You knew what his job was when you agreed to date him, and it had never been an issue until now. You’ve exercised all the patients and understand inside, and it’s hard not to feel neglected now. It’s important to him, and you know that, but you should be too.

One night, after Spencer has been at work for far longer than he promised, you decide enough is enough. As soon as he walks through the door, you confront him.

"Spencer, we need to talk.” You say firmly.

Spencer looks up at you, his eyes tired and hollow. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it.” You say, probably snappier than you should have been because you surprise yourself with your anger. "You've been coming home late every night for weeks, and you barely even speak to me when you're here. I feel like you're avoiding me."

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's not you, Y/N. It's this case. It's consuming all my time and energy."

"I understand that.” You remind him, your tone softening. "But that doesn't mean you can just ignore me. We're supposed to be partners, remember?"

Spencer nods, looking ashamed. "You're right. I've been so focused on work that I haven't been paying attention to what's really important."

You step closer to him, taking his hand in yours. "I just want to make sure that we're okay. I love you, Spencer, but I need you to be here with me, too."

Spencer's eyes meet yours and you can see the love and gratitude shining in them. "I love you too, Y/N. And I promise, I'll make it up to you. Let's go out tomorrow night, just the two of us. We can take a break from all this and focus on each other."

You smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I'd like that."

The next night, Spencer sticks to his word and takes you out to your favorite restaurant. You talk and laugh, enjoying each other's company in a way you haven’t in weeks.

As you're walking back to their car, Spencer stops suddenly and turns to you. "Y/N, I know I haven't been the best husband lately, but I want you to know that you mean everything to me. I can't imagine my life without you."

Your heart swells with love and tenderness for your husband. The same love you’ve felt for years. “I feel the same way, Spencer. I'm just glad we're back on the same page."

Spencer leans down and kisses her softly, right in the middle of the street. His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace and you deepen the kiss by draping yourself arms over his shoulders. In that moment, all your worries and problems fade away, leaving only the love between you.

From that night on, Spencer makes a conscious effort to be more present in your marriage. He knows that his work is important, but so are you and your relationship. You’re partners in every sense of the word, and he’s determined to never let that slip away again.

[wromwood]

All right. All done with reading The Princess Bride. Here are my final thoughts.

Movie’s better.

I’m still glad I stuck with the book and kept reading, even with the rough start I had for the first 50 pages. William Goldman--the real one, that is--is a good writer. He brought these memorable characters into existence, and wrote so many quotable lines that, word for word, were officially immortalized in the movie version. And while the writing style itself isn’t precisely my favorite, that’s mostly nitpicking. It’s still a good book, and I appreciated some of the extra stuff that it let me see, especially regarding Inigo and Fezzik. I was excited to see Inigo and Fezzik actually survive the five levels of the Zoo of Death. I liked seeing their backstories. Their reunion before the wedding was so sweet and made me smile. And I liked seeing more of Miracle Max and his relationship with his wife Valerie! There’s a lot in the book worth appreciating.

... but there’s also a lot in the book you wouldn’t miss.

Like I said before, I find it funny that the book is what advertises itself as the “good parts” version of this story. If that’s true, then the movie version is the “good parts” version of the book. Nearly every scene I read in the book that I recognized from the movie was longer in some way, and benefited from being trimmed in the adaptation. The movie’s dialogue is snappier, its pacing more exciting. When the book draws things out, it doesn’t always work. Sometimes, perhaps, but certainly not always.

And that’s not even mentioning the parts that I’m glad were cut entirely. I wasn’t interested in Buttercup’s bickering parents. The Countess was just a presence in the beginning that was never utilized again, and for that I’m glad. I’m SO glad Westley never hits Buttercup in the movie, nor tells her she’s now the property of the Dread Pirate Roberts and that she should do as she’s told. And, of course, there’s the adult life of William Goldman (the fictional one).

I don’t like the fictional Goldman. I don’t need to like all the fictional characters I read (hell, one of my favorite books has a protagonist you’re not SUPPOSED to like, who you’re SUPPOSED to not want to see succeed, and yet I was still so invested in him that I cried as everything fell apart for him near the end), but fictional Goldman just rubbed me the wrong way. I stopped trusting him as a narrative framing device, as the ruler of Morgenstern’s words.

Sure, I believed him when he said he abridged the original story the way he did. Sure, I believe he’s doing this out of love for the book. But I didn’t believe his REASONS for doing it. I didn’t believe his mantra about how life isn’t fair. When he brought it up at the very end, I rolled my eyes and thought, “How the hell did we grow up with the same story?” How can you be raised on a romantic idea of The Princess Bride, where all the characters, despite all the odds, find each other and achieve their goals, where Wesley and Buttercup get together at the end, and still turn out like this?

You, fictional Goldman, are no loving grandpa (or, in your case, father) telling this story to someone who needs it most.

I want to make it clear- I’m not trying to insult the real William Goldman or his writing abilities. In fact, since he adapted the book for the movie, I like to think that the movie is him refining his original work. After all, if the author himself was able to shave down the bumpy bits, take out bits that are really extraneous, improve things tenfold, and leave in everything that worked, all while keeping most of the dialogue and plotpoints totally intact? That’s proof that he learned how to make this story the best possible version of itself.

All in all, I’m glad I read this book, but I won’t be returning to it again. It’s a good story, but not the one I love. Fortunately, that perfect version has already proved that it will stand the test of time.

Life may not be fair, but it does have miracles. One of those miracles is the movie version of The Princess Bride.

[mejomonster]

I actually think. Maybe i Show a lot in writing. Maybe a bit too much even

(Not in the sense its bad to show, but in the sense it takes SO MANY MORE WORDS to write a scene the more u show)

I read some of the nicest advice i ever Actually have seen on show versus tell in writing the other day. Advice that acknowledged there are actually times its better to tell. That all stories do a combo of show and tell. (And that if u really need to lean into the show advice it might be if ur not showing much at All, so the advice gets hammered in extremely instead of tempered).

Anyway. The advice i read recently said: showing in writing allows you to slow the speed of the scene and draw the reader in. (So establishing setting, getting a reader to feel a mood, making a particularly emotional impact alongside a particular dialogue exchange, showing can all help with). Telling in writing helps pick up the pace, move things along. Want something snappier, where a detail doesn't need to be dwelled on and sunken into? If you need to move things along, tell. A snappy quick explanation of some sci fi world's vehicle, a quick "he checked the crime scene and found a note, bringing it back to the team" if the crime scene checking wasnt important but the next scene of team discussion is. I thought it was a great explanation of why 1 its okay to tell rather than show 2 one way to speed up pace/cut down word count (which i desperately needed to hear lol)

[amyviscomblog5]

Black Box Editing

The editing process of the video was pretty simple as we had already had an induction on premier pro and we only needed to do some simple touch ups. One of the main ones being we wanted to make the cuts from each weird combination short and snappy but also wanted them to flow nicely into each other. This was half done with the in person transitions but to make them snappier we also edited the clips down a bit. We sped some clips up not only to fit in with the fast paced theme but also to get it under the 30 second mark as we had a lot more footage then we thought. The last main bit of editing was at the end where the photo of the peanut butter came up and then our slogan 'GET WEIRD', this was also really easy once we figured out what tools we needed to use.

[duuhrayliegh]

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words.  “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.” 

[ryoskuna]

Make sure you drink water!!! Anyway... How would Beni, Obi, and Hibana react to reader being clingy/annoying?

ah! thank you for the reminder, I absolutely needed it. Also, thank you for the fire force imagine, I am absolutely buzzing — especially since you included my favorite, Obi (my husband... the love of my life... (u didn’t see nothin’ hawks, bokuto, gojo, sukuna, ukai, shoo, for now)). I’ll go in the order you asked, so Beni, then Obi, and then Hibana. Also, I’m really surprised I don’t see more fire force x reader stuff on Tumblr, but I will single-handedly carry this fandom on my back with headcanons, imagines, and the like if I have to.

BENIMARU SHIMMON.

Beni... sweet flame child beni... I think his reactions honestly depend on either the time of day or if there’s a reason behind why you’re being so clingy or annoying. Honestly, I think if it’s early in the morning, he’s going to be a little more snippy with you and tell you to cut it out... unless y’all are like laying in the bed, then be a little more clingy, he likes the warmth. But like, he is short-tempered, so I can’t promise how long he’ll take it. 

Okay, you being clingy when waking up is one thing — like, he’s a personal heater, who would really want him to leave? 

If he hears you whine and cling to him more, he’ll be still for a moment or two; the equivalent to about 10-15 minutes before he’s going to really want to get up for the morning. He would be less aware that him getting up is bothering you, so he won’t comment till your protests get louder, you get more annoying or too clingy.

Beni is honest to the point of being rude sometimes, so he’ll just bluntly ask: “What’s the matter with you” or “What do you want?”

It’s not his intention to be rude, he just wants to know what’s up with you

Just tell him, but if you don’t — then he’ll get inwardly concerned for you and walk away before he says something else that may hurt your feelings due to the tone.

But if you’re being unbearably annoying, he will sharply tell you to cut it out.

It’s the hint of tears in your eyes that make him realize that was too sharp of a tone, and he’ll go after you to apologize.

He’ll tell you in a soft tone that you can be clingy later, but throughout the day, he smothers you with hand brushes or gentle touches and squeezes to let you know that everything is okay.

or, if you’re being clingy after an infernal has appeared and he’s coming back, then he’ll be a little more welcoming to it.

He’s not going to want to talk much, but he’ll appreciate your touch and be likely to bury his face in your neck or shoulder.

Knowing him, you’re his favorite comfort, and he will not be afraid to let you know that is the case.

Now, if you’re being annoying for the sheer hell of it — he’s going to call you a brat.

He’ll do his best to ignore you or try to get you to calm down with a look or a glance, but if that’s not enough, he’ll say “cut it out.”

If you don’t want to listen to words, he’ll give you taps on your elbow or hips to gesture to stop, but he’s keeping count of every time he’s had to correct you for being annoying.

God forbid, the twins also decide to be annoying with you.

By the end of the day, Beni... is tired from the day’s work, keeping up with the twins, and you acting just like them. Proceed with caution walking into your bedroom.

“You want to act like a brat, you'll get treated like one.” ;)

AKITARU OBI. 

I think Obi might be the most tolerant of you being clingy or annoying.  Again, it definitely depends on the context and the situation in which it’s occurring in. (I’m so whipped for Obi, it’s ridiculous like I was looking at gifs of him and I audibly sighed in longing.)  Like, can you imagine him cupping your face with one of his big ole hands and just holding your cheeks and — okay, lemme.... cut it out. All you need to know is I love him...

Obi gets put into life and death situations on a daily, so he tries not to get bothered by the moments when you’re clingy. Especially because he can be too — like sleeping in the same bed with this man? I know he’s warm, and he’s the perfect big spoon because of his size, and just his strong arms around you???  (A DREAM I SAY, A DREAM. A PERFECT PARADISE)

He especially gets clingy in the mornings when he can be, especially if there was a call overnight. So you, snuggling into him and clinging to him more? He’s content.

Until he hears some chaos from either Arthur and Shinra, or Hinawa putting out Sputter and Maki crying over it for the umpteenth time

Then he’s got to be a Captain.

And if you don’t want to let go, he would offer to pick you up and carry you (it wouldn’t bother the man in the slightest).

If it’s an emergency, then he’s in a hurry and a bit sterner with you “y/n, I have to go.”

But if you’re part of Company 8 with him, then he’s dragging you out of bed to get dressed.

Mmmm, captain voice; just telling you to get it together.  Like not to the point where he’s yelling at Hinawa and Maki in episode one of season two, but his voice is definitely stern and he’s not budging on his opinion.

If you get pouty about it, he’ll apologize quickly, but know he’ll make it up to you later by letting you curl up in his lap later or he’ll use you as a weight while he works out.

Obi isn’t really one to lose his temper, especially not over you being annoying, although he is one to whisper warnings to you in your ear.

If you cling to him, you’re just helping him work out, really.

Now, if he’s got to be business-like, he’ll tell you to cut it out. But as soon as he’s out of the eyes of like say Company 1 or 5, then he’s back to normal and doesn’t mind, as long as you’re not getting outlandish with being annoying. Otherwise, you’re in trouble behind closed doors.

PRINCESS HIBANA.

HER NAME IS PRINCESS HIBANA. if you think you are getting over on her, that is just not the case. You will not be getting your way. She is usually kind of bratty, but she’s also very dominant, so let that linger in your mind.

You may not be gravel, but you are hers, and she expects you to act like it, within reason.

She’ll tell you to cut it out and stop being annoying, especially if it’s in public.

Likewise, if she thinks you’re being too clingy or adoring, she will tell you to stop.

She’ll even settle with ignoring you. Like flat out pretending you don’t exist. But she is keeping track and record every time you’re working on her patience and testing it. 

Don’t think she won’t smack you on the shoulder or something with her fan. She’s in control, not you.

She will remind you that she is the captain, and you need to know your place is beneath her. 

Do not think she’s like the others, you won’t get away with being annoying all day. She will take you in the middle of the day, especially if you’re at Company Five’s place, and she will go into her office and remind you personally of who she is.

But if you’re in public, she’s even snappier than usual with telling you to stop and to cut it out. It isn’t till she sees a flare of emotion from you or tears in your eyes that she will apologize or become more gentle.

And then she will ask what’s wrong with you or the cause of you being so needy today. And then she’ll solve it by slowly spoiling you rotten.

[tomatograter]

Do you have any tips on anatomy or dynamic poses? I just really love your art and how fluid it is!

I'm bad at doing art tutorials but things that helped me specifically on that area are;

Prioritizing flow (and the line of action) over anatomically accurate shape; as absolute legend ciro put it really well on this thread made to respond to more or less the same question

Think animation smears, movement before mimesis of the realistic form. More stylized traces benefit heavily from this! But lets say you're also doing some mostly stactic action without a lot of "movement". In that scenario, ive found that thinking of the same principle (flow of the whole instead of the singular piece) can also help if you focus on the characters weight distribution and try to minimize the amount of straight angular lines in your art. Even on things like arms and backs, there's a slight curve instead of a ramrod straight line. It's the juxtaposition with a more loose corresponding line that makes it seem snappy, mid-movement, "bendy". Think about the figure as a whole and be conscious of how the outline loops around itself-which side is the snappier one and which is demonstrating the elasticity of the form. Im gonna take another pic from ciros twitter bc i went to look for the tutorial and found it (sorry king)

This is gonna look confusing at first but bear with me. Check out this image:

Looks like a fucking mess right. Now let's isolate the elements:

IN GREEN: here you have the bendier, more complex lines, the ones doing the loops and informing the shape.

IN RED: Directly In Contrast to the green lines, we have these TAUT ANGLES, not quite completely straight but just enough to give the impression of the figure being pulled every which way, like the meat of dracula boy is being tugged to one side and thus the other is gonna be a bit more modest, having less to work with. Specifically on his face, they even switch sides!

You can find even more contrast points inside that picture but I'm doing this on my phone so I'm only pointing out a few. (Like look at the shape of the hand sitting on the table, theres a complex curved top angle and a taut, lower arm-hand line.) This is definitely an animation-oriented principle instead of a Bellas Artes principle, so id reccomend paying attention to shapely animated things (mostly highly stylized ones, like cartoons not every style does this!) to get your eye trained on that. Try to break down pictures to see how that distribution is being made! Be conscious of the general idea when practicing your poses! There are exceptions to every rule and you shouldn't stress about doing this like math at every turn, but it really helps to 'loosen up' your drawings.

Also to add up on the "movement" thing i tend to sketch loosely and fast out of practice, and only polish it with subsequent re-sketches. Some artists get bogged down by this practice so its not like im reccomending it, but it works for me and i like lineart when its all about doing sweeping gestures and swirls and shit.

i’m gonna put some progress pictures under the cut!

I did this on my phone. there’s my dirty secret i don’t give a shit about how my sketches look. 

lets like polish this thing with 15 layers now untill i get it where i want it (i do color blocking on this stage because i also love color distribution art is just about what you like doing tbf)

you’ll see that the Actual Lineart looks fairly different and i thought some movement was lost (A gamble that is always made when you’re trying to “solidify” or overpolish things, but you win some you lose some. I was able to find the mid stage of the jaderadia piece too so here it is

aaaand since i also have this saved here’s two pieces where one was more fateful to the sketch while the other was all just direct lineart bullshit

hopefully this helps

[multi-lefaiye]

vultures are holy creatures - the Roach Ramble™ (part two)

(Previous part here: [link])

Alright, part two is finally here!!!! I don’t have a good explanation for why this got so long, I really just got lost in the sauce, but the third part is going to be the absolute last one. We are almost in the home stretch!

Thank you to everyone who’s shown interest in this, and I’m sorry for how much I’ve thrown at y’all asdfjk;l. This was originally going to cover up until Roach gets their first tattoos, but it ended up getting so long I decided to stick that in part three actually.

Content warnings (once again please take these seriously): Unhealthy/toxic romantic relationships, toxic familial relationships, deadnaming and misgendering (no deadname is actually listed), car accidents (not shown on-screen but mentioned), cancer and chemotherapy (neither discussed or shown in graphic detail, but they are still discussed), fat-shaming (mentioned) in general a lot of death (including the death of a grandparent).

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed): @albatris @chaotic-queer-disaster @dr-runs-with-scissors​ @wherearetheplants @emotionalsupportpuma @skitzo-kero 

--

After the miracle that was their survival, the fire in their belly continued to flourish and burn. They were done following others’ wishes, and they were addicted to the feeling of survival, of believing in themself and overcoming the challenges thrown their way.

It was as though they were a baby bird forced to fly too soon, but just before they hit the ground, they found their wings and took flight. In a way, almost dying was the best thing that had happened to them so far, because it showed them how good it felt to be alive.

Within three days of receiving the news that they were going to recover, that they would be fine, they decided they were going to completely abandon the expectations everyone had for them.

The world wanted them to hit the ground and die, so they decided not just to live, but to fly.

--

It started small, as most things do.

The first thing they did, once they’d regained their strength enough, was change their appearance. Their hair had grown longer than they were comfortable with while they were sick, which their mother and Miss Marjorie had said was a relief. They were just so lucky it hadn’t fallen out during the chemotherapy. Miss Marjorie especially seemed delighted when she took in their appearance.

“She finally looks like a proper young woman,” Miss Marjorie said to their mother, a note of pride in her voice.

The thought made them feel sick to their stomach, but more than that it made them angry.

So, the moment they were strong enough to hold a pair of scissors without hurting themself, they hacked and sawed away at their blond locks, which had grown to hang just past their shoulders. They only stopped once their hair was so short it barely even touched the tops of their ears.

The next morning, their mother stared at them with wide eyes as she took in their choppy haircut. Marina snorted and giggled, covering her mouth with one hand as if that would stop them from noticing. It was their father, though, who asked about their hair.

“I don’t want long hair anymore,” they said simply, defiantly making eye contact. Their father looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything else. He’d never been one for conflict, anyway.

After they cut their hair, they began to change their attitude. They were snappier, sharper, the red-hot anger in their belly fueling them. It felt good to lash out, to allow the fire burning them up inside to burn others too.

It wasn’t long, though, before people began to move away from them. Their parents seemed afraid of them, tiptoeing around them with all the wariness of nervous deer, giving them wide-eyed, pitying glances when they thought they weren’t looking.

One day, a little over a year after they went into remission, their mother sat them down at the kitchen table, a serious expression on her face even as she struggled to meet their eyes.

“I know you’re angry,” she said, “and I don’t blame you for that. You were dealt a pretty shitty hand. But, please… whatever this is, please stop.” Her knuckles were nearly white as they gripped the edge of the table. “Please don’t push us away. We love you, and we just want what’s best for you.”

They sneered at her, and her eyes hardened. Before she could speak, though, they opened their mouth, and venomous words fell forth.

Exactly what they said, they don’t remember, because they couldn’t hear the words over the fire roaring in their ears. Whatever it was, though, it made their mother screw up her face at them, as though she’d eaten something terribly bitter.

“Fine,” she said. “Whatever you want.” She stiffly got to her feet. “Just don’t come crying to us when you end up dying sad and alone someday, because you’re too angry and mean to let anyone near you.” They could hear the barely-restrained tears in her voice, but they didn’t look at her as she left the kitchen.

The fire in their belly, for the first time since it had ignited, flickered. It wasn’t completely extinguished, but they felt a strange coldness in their limbs as their mother’s words tumbled and churned about in their mind.

That night, as they fell asleep, they felt the creeping chill settle inside them. Even under their thick blanket, they shivered.

--

The rest of high school was mostly uneventful, and before they knew it, they’d graduated. They don't remember most of their graduation, just a churning feeling in their stomach as they realized that this part of their life was over. Soon, they could spread their wings and finally, truly leave the nest and all the people who seemed determined not to believe in them.

They just had to ignore the creeping cold that had been growing worse and worse by the day, threatening to extinguish the fire that had been keeping them going for years.

They left their tiny hometown in the middle of nowhere and flew to a university in another state, never looking back. Their father saw them off at the airport, as their sister had a dentist appointment that their mother decided she had to be there for.

They tried not to think about the relieved slope to their father's shoulders as they got out of the car and said goodbye.

"Good luck out there, kid," he said, offering them a strained smile. He squeezed their shoulder through their ratty grey hoodie, then he let them go. It was clear to them that, while he was sad to send them off, he was also glad they were leaving.

They wanted to be angry about it, but they just felt the same coldness they’d felt the day they’d snapped at their mother. The fire inside them had to fight the creeping chill, leaving no time to fuel their anger. It left them feeling sick and tired and terribly, terribly lonely in a way they’d never felt before.

"Thanks, Dad," they said as they climbed out of the car. Their family wasn't the type to say I love you, especially not to them, but in that moment they wondered if he would say it.

He didn't.

In fact, he drove away seemingly the moment they’d left the car, hardly even pausing to wave goodbye. For a long moment, they watched him as he went, a strange sinking feeling in their stomach that they hadn’t felt in a long time.

Their flight was long, and by the time they arrived in New Jersey it was past eight p.m. They were exhausted and cold, clutching their meager belongings tightly and keeping their head down as they took a cab to their dorm.

When they reached their dorm later that night, they were exhausted. It was raining, and their hoodie was quickly soaked through by the time they’d finished moving into their tiny dorm room. Their roommate wasn’t there yet and wouldn’t arrive for another few days, which left them plenty of time to stew in their loneliness.

After they’d stripped out of their soaking hoodie and crawled into a different one, this one a dark blue, they climbed into bed. For what felt like hours, they lay there, staring up at the empty ceiling.

So much for spreading my wings, they thought with a shiver.

--

Their roommate, one Sydney Ambrose, moved in three days after they did. By that point, they’d forced down the anxious cold biting at their heels and slapped a cocky grin on their face. Being loud and shameless was their greatest defense mechanism, and they were prepared to stoke this fire, this part of them, once again, if it meant they could beat back the chill.

Sydney was taller and wider than them, an anxious and stocky person with tan skin and a mess of curly red hair. They wore a dark red flannel over a t-shirt emblazoned with a picture of a chihuahua, loose sweatpants, and a wide grin. When Sydney first saw them, sitting on their bed with a sketchbook and a pencil, that grin only seemed to grow wider.

“Hi!” Sydney said. “Nice to meet you! I’m Sydney, but you can call me Syd.”

They blinked in surprise, looking up from the doodle they’d been working on. Their surprise quickly fell, though, and they forced themself to smirk, a cruel spark in their eyes.

“Syd, huh?” they said. “That’s a-” The insult that had been about to leap from their tongue stopped in its tracks as they remembered the words their mother had said to them, all those years ago.

Just don’t come crying to us when you end up dying sad and alone someday, because you’re too angry and mean to let anyone near you.

Right. They realized abruptly that, for the first time in a long time, they should try to be nice. Syd hadn’t done anything to them, and this was their chance. They could prove their mother wrong—they could let someone near them, and they wouldn’t die sad and alone. The cold wouldn’t win. They would, just like they always had.

So, instead of insulting Syd, they smiled a little more genuinely and said, “That’s a cool name!” They introduced themself, then, using the nickname they’d started going by in high school. Their birth name had never felt right to them, though at that point they didn't yet know why, and with their new start came a chance to start anew.

Syd laughed, covering their mouth to bite it back. “Thanks! I like yours, too—really creative!”

That day, the first genuine friendship they’d ever had began to bloom.

--

Three weeks into their new college life, they met the man who would change them forever, in ways they didn’t know were possible.

His name was Vulture, and he was the most fascinating man they had ever met.

He was in their first painting class. They'd always liked art, but they never took it super seriously until they met Vulture. The painting class had mainly been something they took on a whim, but when they sat next to him, they were immediately sucked in. Something about him drew them in and made them want to create like nothing had before.

Vulture was beautiful. Not in the way people said they could be if they put in a little more effort, but in the way a lightning storm was beautiful. Powerful, destructive, and awe-inspiring. He had long hair dyed deep blue, brown eyes that shone like amber in the light, and a scar across his lips that made them wonder what his story was, what had happened to him.

They sat next to him and watched him paint sometimes. He liked to paint birds. They wanted to paint him.

It took a few weeks for them to introduce themself to him properly, but when they said their name he shot them a strange look.

"That name doesn't suit you," he said bluntly. They were embarrassed, something they really weren’t used to feeling anymore, and they asked what he meant. He didn't elaborate, and so they went back to work, their face burning and their stomach twisting uncomfortably.

It took another few days for them to gather up the courage to speak to him again. This time, they tried to be clever and ask him what name he would give them, if their nickname was so ill-fitting. Somehow, this felt like the right question to ask, even though they found themself dreading what his answer might be.

"I don’t know,” he said, looking at them out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know you well enough yet.”

It wasn't the response they were hoping for, but it encouraged them nonetheless.

From there, they began talking with Vulture every day, and after a couple of months, they started spending time with him outside of class as well. He was so interesting to them, and they wanted to learn all they could about him. After some time, he seemed to feel the same way about them. Having those amber eyes on them was an intoxicating feeling, and they craved more of it. Though they’d been living their life out of spite for years, having someone actually interested in them was surreal, exciting in a good way.

Four months after they met Vulture, he kissed them. They were caught off guard and stiffened in his embrace, but soon they realized they didn’t hate it. After a moment, they relaxed, and they kissed him back.

Two days after he kissed them, they went on their first date with Vulture, and three days after that they were officially an item.

--

A month into their relationship with Vulture, they chose their new name.

They were lying on his bed, shirtless, their back bared to him as he knelt over them and painted on their pale skin. He’d said he wanted to give them a pair of wings, to make them as free and beautiful as the birds he painted, and they’d agreed.

Each stroke of the brush created new feathers along their back, and ever so slowly their wings began to unfurl. The paint was cold against their skin, enough to make them shiver, but they were determined not to move and ruin the masterpiece he was turning them into.

For the first hour or so, neither of them spoke, aside from Vulture’s soft hums as he worked. He’d set up his laptop to play some music, a mix of various lo-fi tracks they’d never heard before, and it was slowly lulling them to sleep as they got used to the sensation of the brush against their skin. They allowed their eyes to fall closed and rested their head on the checkered bedspread beneath them.

Vulture noticed right away, and he paused in his work. Then, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the base of their neck. They stirred, their eyes opening once more.

“Wake up, little bird,” he murmured, his deep voice resonating deep in their bones. They shifted a little, and he spoke again. “That’s it, stay awake for me.”

“Sorry,” they mumbled. Vulture chuckled, the sound warm and comforting.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart.” He went back to painting.

They frowned a little, but they didn’t say anything. Normally, they liked his nicknames for them, but they didn’t like it when he called them sweetheart. It felt too feminine and vaguely condescending in the way he often was when he spoke to them.

Instead of voicing this thought, though, they decided to ask him something else, something that had been weighing on their mind since they met him.

"Why did you pick Vulture to be your name?” they asked. He paused mid-stroke, and they imagined the expression on his face as he stared at them. Even in their mind’s eye, his face was unreadable.

“Why do you ask?” he said. There was a note to his voice that made something in their stomach twist uncomfortably, and they supposed they could have been imagining it, but he sounded almost… disappointed that they were questioning him.

They didn’t want him to be disappointed in them. Not him.

“I’m just curious,” they told him, the words tumbling out of their mouth more quickly than they intended. “It’s just… I’ve never met anyone with a name like yours before, and I was wondering-”

Vulture hummed, bringing their nervous babbling to a halt. Their face burned as they hid it in their arms. They still weren’t used to being embarrassed, but something about Vulture had them desperate for his approval. All he had to do was hum or frown and they were practically tripping over themself trying to earn his approval.

“I wanted to leave my old name behind,” he explained, his voice gentle as though he were soothing a frightened animal. “Start anew, y’know?” He painted another feather, curling delicately out from their protruding spine.

“I’ve always liked vultures,” he continued. “I wanted to give my old life to the birds, and I thought a vulture seemed the most fitting. Thought of it like… the old me is dead now, and the new me is the vulture feeding on his corpse.” He sat back as if to admire his work for a moment. They shifted underneath him.

“That’s pretty morbid,” they said with a snort. He chuckled.

“Maybe,” he said. “But it feels right.”

Later that night, they thought about his words, lying next to Vulture in bed. He had his arms around them and his face buried in the back of his neck. His soft snores told them that he was asleep, yet they were fully awake.

They wanted to change their name for good, to leave their old life and name behind just like he had. The only problem was that they didn’t know what they would want to change it to. Their previous nickname had felt right to them, but Vulture said it didn’t suit them, and that was enough to make them doubt themself.

By the time dawn came and the sun was peeking through the curtains to caress their face with gentle warmth, they’d come to a decision.

They knew what their new name would be.

“I want you to call me Roach,” they told Vulture as he brushed his long, blue hair. He paused, glancing at them over his tattooed shoulder.

“Roach?” he echoed.

“Yeah,” they said. “Roach. Call me Roach.”

Vulture thought it over for a moment. “Why Roach?” he asked. There was no judgment or disappointment in his voice, only curiosity, and it spurred them on.

“I want to be unkillable,” they said. “I want to leave myself behind and become something stronger, something that can’t die.” They hadn’t yet told him about their brush with death as a teenager, but they were sure that he’d figured out by now that something had happened to them.

He smiled at them and nodded, turning his gaze back to the mirror as he ran the brush though his tangled locks. “Roach, then. I think that suits you well.”

And that was that.

--

A year and a half into their relationship with Vulture, Roach got an email from their father. It was brief and to the point, and the words revived a chill deep in their heart that had been subsiding over the past year or so.

Their grandmother, Miss Marjorie, had passed away. The email didn’t say exactly what had happened, only that it did. She was gone.

Part of them was elated, knowing they had outlived her, but the rest of them felt so cold as they read the words on the screen over and over again.

Miss Marjorie was gone, and they would never see her again. She would never again look at them with cold disdain or disappointment, never again deliver backhanded compliments, never again act like they should be grateful she blessed them with her presence.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” Vulture, who was lying next to them in bed as they read the email on their phone, asked softly. He was curled loosely, almost protectively around them, an arm draped around their middle. They’d been living with him for a little over three months at that point, and they still weren’t quite used to sharing their space with him.

They weren’t sure how to respond at first, so they settled for just being blunt.

“My grandmother is dead,” they said flatly. They didn’t know how to process the emotion they were feeling right now, and they were sure it was obvious in their voice.

Vulture didn’t reply at first, but as he always did, he cut right to the point when he finally did speak.

“Are you sad?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” they replied. They set their phone down and stared up at the ceiling. “She was always kind of a bitch, but…” Their voice trailed off.

“How so?”

Roach snorted. “I got cancer when I was fifteen and almost died. She said I was lucky the chemo made me so thin and weak, because at least I wasn’t fat anymore.” Vulture made a disgusted sound, deep in the back of his throat.

“What a bitch,” he agreed. He draped an arm over them and pulled them closer to his body. If he was surprised to hear about their cancer, he didn’t say anything about it.

“And when I was a kid, she said that I was going to die before I turned thirty. Acted like it was fucking inevitable.” Unbidden, the fire in their belly, so long dormant, began to stir again as they thought about Miss Marjorie’s words. Vulture made the same sound again, angry and disgusted.

“Wish I could give that bitch a piece of my mind,” he growled, his grip on them tightening slightly. It was a little uncomfortable, but Roach didn’t voice that.

For a long moment, the two of them were quiet, but Roach felt the need to speak again, to say something else and fill the silence.

“I guess it feels good to outlive her,” they said. “But… I don’t know, I wish I got the chance to really tell her to fuck off. To really show her that I fucking won.”

Vulture hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you can tell her to fuck off by continuing to outlive her. She’s dead and you’re not, and that means you’re better off.”

“I guess.”

Vulture sat up and reached up with one hand, tilting Roach’s face to look at him. His amber eyes were serious, and there was a spark of something in his eyes that Roach couldn’t quite recognize. It was intoxicating.

“Roach,” he practically purred, though his voice was full of subtle authority, “when you picked your name, you told me you wanted to be unkillable. You wanted to survive. Is that right?” They nodded, and he smiled. “Well, you are. You’re the most stubborn, unkillable cockroach motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life, and I’m honored to know you.” It was the highest praise he’d ever given them. He leaned in and pressed his lips to their forehead.

The words almost made them laugh at their ridiculousness, but it was comforting, in a strange sort of way. Vulture had never told them that he loved them, but this certainly came close. Instead of laughter, they sighed in relief and leaned into his touch.

“Thank you,” they murmured.

“Anytime,” he replied as he laid down next to them again, resting his head on the pillow next to theirs. “Now, get some rest, sweetheart. You’ve got eternity in front of you.” He fell asleep soon after, but Roach stayed awake for much longer, their mind a whirlpool of confused thoughts and emotions.

They really did hate it when he called them sweetheart.

--

Two years into their relationship with Vulture, just before the end of Roach’s junior year of college, things came to an abrupt, violent end.

They’d had a fight, but Roach doesn’t even remember what it was about. It was probably something stupid—they’d had a lot of fights lately, and all of them felt so fucking stupid in hindsight. All Roach can remember about the night everything ended is that they were screaming at him, he was screaming at them, something shattered against the floor. One thing led to another and, his face twisted in fury and his hands clenched into fists, Vulture grabbed his things and stormed away from them.

The last words he spat at them stung worse worse than if he’d slapped them. A small part of them wondered if it’d have been better if he did.

“If you’re so fucking perfect, then fine, you don’t need me. You don’t need anyone. You only need yourself, you selfish sack of shit. I hope you die alone.” And he said their name—not their chosen name, or even the nickname they’d used when they met him. The name they’d fought so hard to leave behind.

He slammed the door behind him, and the sound reverberated deep in Roach’s bones.

Roach stared after him, hot tears welling up in their eyes and spilling down their cheeks. Their breathing was labored, so much so that they had to sit with their head in their hands. They were so angry, angry in a way they hadn’t felt in a while, but mostly they were just devastated. After all they’d done, all they’d given up, for Vulture and his approval, it was all over.

They felt lightheaded, and in a frantic fit of desperation they fumbled their phone out of their pocket and called Syd. Even if they weren’t living with their freshman-year roommate anymore, they’d kept in touch, and in that moment, Roach was beyond grateful for that.

Syd picked up right away, and when Roach croaked out the words asking them to come over, they did so without hesitation.

Vulture never came home that night, which Roach took to mean that things were well and truly done. Syd was there for them through it all, but their heart didn’t truly shatter until two days later, when they got a call.

The words stopped them cold, and their hands shook as they listened to the woman on the other side offer her condolences.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said. Roach was too stunned to even feel the usual sting they did when they were addressed as a woman.

Vulture wasn’t coming home, but not because he didn’t want to. He wasn’t coming home because he’d driven his motorcycle in the path of an oncoming truck, and he hadn’t survived. Thankfully, at least according to the woman on the phone, he’d died instantly, so he didn’t have to suffer as he died.

He was dead.

He was dead.

He was dead.

Roach nearly dropped the phone, and the tears that had been falling down their face only days before returned full force, red-hot waterfalls that burned their face and left them feeling empty and cold all at once.

“Are you okay?” Syd asked, their brow furrowed in concern. “Roach, what’s going on?”

Roach didn’t know how to reply to that.

[writing-good-vibes]

brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: periods (fluff)

periods part 2 !! i (surprisingly) want some fluff as well as smut, so this is how they would all treat you whilst you're on your period because they're all soft really. cut added because it's a long post. more notes in tags. WARNING for (of course) periods/menstruation, mention of gender roles, pms and otc drug use.

charles lee ray

a bit useless but he tries

sort of

other than having very enthusiastic sex he's winging pretty much everything else

will buy you pads/tampons if you ask him to

along with beer and cigarettes so his manliness isn't brought into question

doesn't specifically keep track of your cycle but he does notice when you start because of the pad/tampon wrappers in the bin

because he's annoyingly observant

if you leak during the night he doesn't make a big deal of it

he still won't wash the sheets or anything, thats your job

spends the week either out "working" or with you on the couch

let's you pick what you watch and keeps his complaints to a minimum (or he tries, at least)

if you're being moody don't think he'll let you off lightly, your pms-ing doesn't go down well with him

expect snarky comments about you being on the rag

he doesn't really mean it though, and you don't take it to heart afterwards

billy bibbit

he tries his best

which is absolutely good enough because he is a sweetheart

makes sure you relax

makes you tea

will hug you as often as humanly possible

isn't like super knowledgeable about periods but gathers information via what you say until he has a moderately solid understanding

will totally buy pads/tampons for you

lowkey just to prove to anyone watching that he has a girlfriend

sheriff brackett

he is very good at taking care of you

expert level comfort

you never have to ask him to buy pads/tampons because he keeps a solid supply in the bathroom for you

offers you advil/nurofen if you want/can take it

if you leak during the night he is very understanding but tries not to make a big deal of it because he doesn't want to embarrass you

runs you lots of hot baths

hot water bottle while you watch tv with him

has more than enough experience dealing with pms induced moods (hello, dad of a teenage daughter) so he just let's you vent it out

you apologised afterwards but he just brushes it off

he loves you, he can deal with your pms-ing

jack dante

the definition of useless

apart from having sex with you he has no idea what to do

will not buy you pads/tampons because he doesn't go outside

does not acknowledge the box of pads/tampons you keep in his office/room

will order you extra food because he doesn't know what else to do

if you leak he will be lowkey mad about it

until you point out that he sleep on a mattress on the floor and has never washed his bed sheets anyway

is very upset if you snap at him

sexist period comments are abundant with him if you're "mean to him first"

grima wormtongue

tells you to take it easy

also does nothing to lighten your workload

there's not much he can do to help tbh

terrible bedside manner

calls you to his room and let's you stay in the pretense of cleaning but really you just lay around and talk to him

doc cochran

knows exactly what medicine/herbal mix to give you to help with cramps

insists you take it easy

makes sure you have enough supplies to last the week

tells you to stay at home because he's protective

tries to finish his rounds ASAP so that he can come home to you

coddles you even though he knows you can look after yourself

he laughs off your snappiness

he's heard worse from his patients, his beloved being a bit moody won't hurt his feelings

tommy ludlow

will watch tv with you on the couch and rub your stomach to make you feel better

would buy you pads/tampons if you asked but you never do because he is very busy

rolls you joints (if that is your thing) to help with cramps

throws on a record and let's you lay on top of him on the couch

tries to be reasonable if you're moody

even if you're snappier than normal, he'll still cuddle with you even in sullen silence

leo nova

does not care if you're on your period

don't talk to him about it

will not buy pads/tampons if asked but will buy them if he notices you're running low

but don't mention it afterwards

offers you drugs to make you feel better

not the most sympathetic

but at the end of the day he wants you to feel better

even if he has the emotional range of a light switch

tucker cleveland

he has a lot going on but does remember to buy pads/tampons whilst grocery shopping sometimes

there is no schedule to his remembering so sometimes you end up with multiple boxes you don't need and sometimes you run out and realise he hasn't bought more so you have to go out yourself

offers you advil/nurofen/whatever

tries to make you comfortable by just like chilling with you on the couch

watching tv, drinking beer

if you go in a mood with him, he'll give you the cold shoulder

until you get over it and come crawling back for affection because your cramps hurt again

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART NINE

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: not much, talk of violence Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​ @myownparadise96​ @lara-gvf​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​ @bigblack-catattack​​ @myownparadise96​

MASTERPOST

You beat Kate to class, getting out the granola bar you’d brought for the two of you to share. She rolled in about three minutes before class was supposed to start, her eyes fixed on you intently. 

She sat down, sliding into her seat in one, fluid motion before turning to you with a dead serious look. 

“Yes?” you asked, wanting to laugh but not wanting to piss her off in case she actually was mad. 

“I was at your house last night, and you didn’t tell me about Trevor? What the hell is going on there?” she asked, leaning in slightly in anticipation for your answer. 

“Oh.” You cringed at her, wringing your hands together under the table. “You mean his eye?”

“Yes, his eye,” she said like it was obvious. 

You let out a sigh, collecting your thoughts. “It really was just an accident. He was being a dick and he touched me so I slapped him.”

You watched her open her mouth to speak a couple of times before her face scrunched up in confusion. “Wait - He what? He touched you? Touched you like, how?”

Nodding back, you spoke again. “Like without my permission. And yeah, and I just sort of. Did it.”

“You hit him hard enough to give him a black eye?” Her tone was incredulous, with an undertone of pride.

“I know, I know. I feel really bad about it,” you admitted, right hand fiddling with your pencil.

She stared toward the front of the room, deep in thought for a moment. “That isn’t what I heard.”

You frowned, eyes popping open wide. “Heard? People are talking about it?” 

“Yeah, I heard a kid in the hall saying Josh Kiszka punched him in the face. Apparently, this kid is friends with Trevor, so I could believe it.”

“What, Josh couldn’t-” you started and then cut yourself off. You couldn’t help it if you tried - your jaw slipped open and stayed there as you thought about what she had said. “His knuckles,” you breathed as an image of them flashed behind your eyes. “Oh my god, they were all bruised.”

“Josh’s?” 

You nodded, but her tone suggested she already knew.

“When? Where did he supposedly do this?” you asked frantically, heart racing.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I think I maybe heard it was on campus, but I don’t know where or when.”

The professor entering the room cut the conversation short. Still, even after the class had started, Kate leaned over to you. 

“Ask Josh at lunch,” she whispered. 

“I can’t, he didn’t come today,” you admitted, matching her tone. She gave you a questioning look, so you finished the thought. “Our heat went out last night and he stayed home today to wait for the repairmen. I think I’m going to wait a little bit - maybe he’ll tell me himself.”

She gave you a doubtful look but didn’t press further.

+++

When you returned to the apartment, you were pleasantly surprised to feel that it was comfortably warm. You stripped your jacket off but decided to keep the sweatshirt on. 

“Hey,” Josh greeted, popping his head out of his bedroom. His hair was wet and you watched him rub a towel over it. “How was school?”

You smiled at him, unwrapping your scarf and hanging it up. “Boring. How was here?”

“Good. They came at about 1 and got it working pretty quickly. I’m just getting out of the shower.”

You breathed a laugh at him. “I can see that. What do you want for dinner?”

He hummed as walked the towel back to the bathroom. “I don’t know. Something easy. We really should go grocery shopping.”

“Then let’s,” you agreed, nodding at him. 

+++

In the aisles of the market, you watched him closely. So this man, the one that was currently in the middle of a two-minute conversation with no one in particular about cereal mascots, was supposed to have punched someone on your behalf? You watched as he got onto his tippy-toes to grab something from the shelf. 

Trevor must have been taller than him - you’d never specifically seen them next to each other, but just by guessing, you thought he’d have to be. 

As you helped him bag groceries, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at his hand. It was more yellowish than purple-grey now, but the evidence was still there. 

Musical mishap, you thought to yourself as your eyes rolled on the way home. 

He made dinner and by the time you were finished eating it, he still hadn’t said a word - not that you actually expected him to. You knew you were going to have to. 

You picked both of your wine glasses up off the coffee table, handing his over. 

You took a deep breath and tried to relax back into the cushions. “Josh,” you started, voice quiet. 

He hummed in recognition, but had his eyes on his plate still, where he was pushing the scraps of his salad around with his fork. 

“How did you really get those bruises?”

That got his full attention, his eyes flicking up to look at you through his fan of lashes. He was silent for a moment while he surveyed your face.

He had a small smirk playing on his lips when he spoke. “You know then?”

“I-” you started but realized you had no idea what you even wanted to say. “You punched Trevor?” 

He nodded at you, huffing a little laugh that made your face go hot. “I did,” he confirmed in a low tone. “And I don’t feel bad about it.”

You weren’t sure what you were feeling - it felt like someone had uncorked you and poured all of your emotions into a blender. You knew you wanted to wring him by the neck for laughing at something like this, that was for sure. 

“Josh,” you breathed, eyes wide. “You punched him so hard you gave him a black eye! Why would you go for his face?”

“Well,” he started, and you instantly knew you were going to hate what he was about to say by the way he was smiling. “I was angry at him, and then he made me angrier. And he deserved it.” 

“You just- I don’t even know what to say to you right now. Did you do it on campus? You could have gotten kicked out of school.”

“I know,” he agreed, far too calm for you. 

“Then why would you do it?” you asked, words coming out a hair snappier than you had meant them to. 

He tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth and then set the glass back down on the coffee table. 

He thought about it for a second, and without a trace of regret, he replied, “Because I didn’t care - don’t care.”

“What? Of course you do,” you insisted. “You were just ready to get expelled? Maybe even arrested? Or what if he had hurt you back?”

“Look, I’ve already done it. No going back from that now.”

You frowned at him, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was right, what had been done was done, and - though you would never admit it - the gesture did make you feel a little melty.

He let it fall silent for a moment before speaking again, extra soft. “Are you mad at me?”

You looked up at him from where you had been staring down at nothing in particular. “I want to be,” you admitted. “I never would have wanted you to do that, Josh.”

“I didn’t do it for you, which is why I didn’t ask your permission.” He was smirking at you again, and you physically couldn’t stop yourself from smiling back, even though you were shaking your head. 

It was silent for a long moment while you let him anticipate how you would react. 

“Never, ever do that kind of shit again. You’re a lover, not a fighter.” You were trying to keep your tone strong and strict, but you couldn’t help when it slipped into something softer.

“I can be both,” he replied with a smug look. 

You lovingly rolled your eyes at him. When you looked back up at him, he was staring past you through a missing slat in the blinds. 

“I think you’re about to forgive me,” he said through a more genuine smile. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“Look.” 

You turned around in your spot, but it wasn’t far enough to give you a real view of the outside, so you shifted in your seat until you were kneeling on the couch cushion. You peered over the backrest and out the window to see snow falling from the sky. It had only just begun to stick to the grass, making the shrubs outside look like powdered donuts.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. 

“Get your jacket on,” he instructed, gently swiping his hand across your shoulder. You didn’t have to be told twice. 

Outside, you watched as the snow fell, catching drafts on the way down that sent them dancing across the night sky like ballerinas. It didn’t look exactly like you had seen in the movies - the flakes weren’t those fat, heavy ones, more light and powdery. When you turned to look back at him, he was beaming watching you. 

“This is like-” he started and then shook his head like the words were in the process of coming to him. “Watching you experience snow for the first time is like being a kid again.”

“That’s an awfully soft thing for you to say, killer,” you quipped back playfully, just to remind him that you hadn’t forgotten. 

He beamed back at you, teeth white as the snowflakes. 

+++

You received an alarming text from him just before lunch the following day. 

Josh          just now

  Hey I need your help in the theater room. Can I come get you?

You quickly tapped back, I know where it is, I’ll meet you there. 

As you reached the door to the theater room, you could hear his distinct voice muttering angrily. 

When he caught sight of you, he tried to collect himself, but he was in too emotionally compromising of a state for it to be effective.

“What’s going on?” you tried, closing the door behind yourself when he prompted you to. 

“Rachel quit on me. She just quit, and I’m freaking out because I know if my professors found out, they’d pull the production from me,” he explained in a rush, his voice shaky. “I can’t lose this, I’ve worked so hard on it.”

“Hey, you don’t know that they’d take it away from you.” You kept your tone soft and sweet, hoping the mood would rub off on him.

“I just have a feeling. I mean, she was supposed to make all the costumes and she was helping with the set and the choreography. These kids can’t learn all-new steps. The production is in less than a month - they’re so young. They can’t learn them that quickly-”

You could tell that he wasn’t about to calm down any time soon, so you reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. 

“Josh,” you said calmly, forcing him to look right into your eyes. “Calm down and just breathe with me for a second, okay?”

He nodded quickly, matching your structured breathing until you felt it was safe to let go of him. Once you could sense he was no longer on the verge of tears, you spoke again. 

“I’m going to take the rest of the day off from classes, and so are you. And we’re going to get this figured out,” you stated confidently. He stared at you for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “Okay, you’re going to explain to me everything that she was supposed to do and I’m going to write it down.”

“Okay. She was going to be making all the costumes. There are twenty-five kids, and I have no idea how many she finished. Every time I asked her, she was so vague, and even if she did get them done, I don’t think she’ll give them to me,” he explained. 

“No, no. It’s the school’s budget that buys the supplies, right?” you inquired, a frown on your face.

“The performing arts program, yes,” he corrected. 

“Then we’re going to get it back from her.”

He gave you an unsure look. It was already hard to see him so distressed but to see him look so lost was one of the harder things you had experienced so far this year. 

“Tell me what happened,” you requested. 

“Later,” he replied honestly. “I’m going to buy a lot of alcohol.”

You giggled at that, forcing a smile to his lips. “Deal. Plain and simple, you’re going to go to her and ask her for the steps and costumes. If we can get that, we can do the rest.”

“You’re going to help me?” he asked, eyebrows scrunched together. 

“As much as I humanly can. And Kate will too, I’m sure. She’s an art major, so we can use her for the props if she agrees.”

He let out a long, relieved exhale. “We should get coffee.”

+++

Kate was more than happy to help, of course. It was the end of the day when you asked her to meet you guys, and arrived promptly with a drink carrier full of beverages. 

When she got a look at the props that were left to do, she laughed. 

“Pssh, this part is going to be just fine. We can get this finished in two or three nights if we really commit.”

Josh let out a sigh. “You don’t also know how to sew and dance, do you?”

“Nah,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips. You made a note to ask her at a more appropriate time how she could dress in just a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of ripped-up jeans in temperatures below freezing. “You’re on your own there. But I can pay this Rachel a visit and convince her very nicely to hand over what she has.”

Josh was looking at her with a quirked eyebrow. “I truly fear that you’d kill her.”

Kate laughed, the melodic sound bouncing around the high room. “I wouldn’t kill her, but sometimes you have to rough someone up a little to get what you want. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Josh?”

You couldn’t help but snicker under your breath. He took her ribbing with grace, brushing her off with a charming smile. 

“I’m not sure I catch your very subtle meaning,” he replied sarcastically. And then, after a pause, finished with, “But thank you for your help. Truly.”

+++

By the weekend, things were starting to look up. Kate had tracked down Rachel on Thursday at the end of her Trig class, and though she wouldn’t tell you exactly how she was able to convince her, she returned triumphant. 

Rachel had promised she would drop everything off in the theater room the following morning, and she had delivered. 

When the costumes and untouched fabric got to you, you had to admit, you were rather unimpressed. Ever since you had realized you would need to learn how to sew, you had been watching tutorials, reading articles, and practicing on scraps - you even had the battle wounds on the tips of your fingers to show for your efforts. 

“She sewed almost nothing correctly,” you griped on Saturday morning to Josh as he was starting to make pancakes. 

He was smiling when he turned to you. “I don’t want to laugh, but it’s kind of funny in a cosmic sort of way. A storyline out of a play itself, almost.”

You shot him a look. “Calm down, Micheal Bay. You’re directing a tiny tots rendition of Alice in Wonderland. You’ve got a long way to go before you make it to Broadway.”

He stared at you with a disbelieving smile for a moment. “I’m sorry, do you think Micheal Bay is a theater director?”

You scowled at him teasingly. “No, he’s just the only director I could think of,” you said in your defense. 

It was nice to see him laugh in response the way he did - his nose all scrunched up, his hands bracing himself against the counter. 

“You’re going to burn the pancakes,” you accused, stepping around the kitchen cabinet to grab the spatula and flip it in its pan. 

“I’m sorry, that was just really cute.” When you glanced over at him, he was wiping moisture away from his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt. You could feel your cheeks flushing from the compliment.

“Seriously though, I can’t thank you enough for your help with this. There’s no way I could ever thank you enough.”

You offered him a sincere smile. “Any time you need me.”

As he was sliding a pancake to your plate, he asked, “Hey, what are your plans for Christmas?” 

You gave him a sad smile. “Probably just a video call with my parents.”

The corner of his lips turned down into a frown. “You’re not going home?”

“Fifteen hundred miles?” you reminded him, but it didn’t change his expression. 

“I suppose. That sucks though,” he said apologetically, passing the syrup over as a consolation. 

“It’s really not a big deal. Now, talk to me about this choreography. Are you going to be able to teach them?”

“Well, luckily, Rachel saved all of the steps. And they’ve got it down pretty good so far, so I think it’ll be okay.” He nodded as he spoke, seemingly having dropped the previous topic. 

You giggled. “I’m just picturing you standing in front of a bunch of kids as they try to mimic you. Like little ducklings.”

He smiled dreamily as he watched you cut off your first bite of breakfast. “They’re so cute. I wanna take them all home with me.”

“I could totally see you walking through the door with one in your arm, one on your hip, one latched onto your leg.”

His expression changed then to something a shade more serious. “That’s the dream.”

[mediocre-writerr]

i like me better [santana lopez]

santana lopez x reader

request #1: Hey can I request a part 2 of your recent Santana fic? I love Santana and it’s so hard finding new stuff with her. 😁

request #2: OMG, OUT OF THE OLD WAS SO GOOD!! could you possibly do a part 2 where santana tries everything she can to win the reader back? <3

*not my gif*

You sat there watching idly by as everyone tried to figure out songs for Nationals, but you couldn’t get it out of your head. The fact that Santana was playing you this entire time and you had no idea. But you just sat there, staring at your blank hotel notepad, trying to figure out all of the signs.

Quinn, however, saw that Santana was not okay. She was a lot more snappier than usual and her eyes kept tearing up, like any second now everything inside her could just break.

So when everyone was dismissed for the night, Quinn pulled her aside, “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing I’m fine.” she spat.

“Santana really, we’re a part of the Unholy Trinity. Me and you know each other’s slightest quiver. So tell me what’s going on.” she pushed and Santana sighed.

“Me and Y/N were a thing,” she began, hesitantly like it was some top secret information.

“Yeah I know. It was obvious. You could cut the sexual tension in the room with a knife.” she said, nonchalantly with a shrug.

Santana rolled her eyes before continuing, “And she found out in the beginning that I just wanted a rebound. But now I’m actually in love with her and she hates my guts.”

“San, we’re in New York! Take her on a date! Prove to her that you’re in love with her!” Quinn said, excitedly, “You’re a badass bitch, if there’s anyone who can convince someone that she loves them, it’s you.”

She hugged her, a small smile on her face, “Thank you.”

The rest of the night she stayed up trying to find the perfect date idea. Until she finally did.

She knocked on you and Rachel’s door softly. She waited for a couple seconds. Her hands shaking just a little, so she ringed her hands together. Pacing up and down the width of the door. Rachel opened it crossing her arms over her chest.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Rachel spoke, but Santana just shook her head walking past.

You looked up at the girl who just stormed her way in, “Santana I don’t want to talk to you.”

But she’s more stubborn than that, “Please. Just give me a few hours to prove that I actually like you. That this whole thing wasn’t an act.”

Your head and heart were fighting with each other. Your head was telling you to be logical, but your heart knew better. See, your heart wanted you to rush into her arms and tell her that she doesn’t need a few hours because she already has your heart.

“Fine.” you mumbled, she extended her hand out towards you, but you didn’t take it. All you did was walk past her out of your room.

The taxi ride to where you guys were going was silent. She didn’t tell the taxi driver where to go, but rather showed him the address. Letting him know that it was a surprise.

“Cover your eyes.” Santana stated.

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“Please just trust me.”

You sighed and covered your hands with your eyes. She went around the car and opened the door for you, helping you out of the car. And she guided you for awhile, you tried to ignore the feeling of her hands on your waist. A feeling you knew all too well. And you wished you could hate it, but you just couldn’t.

She finally uncovered your eyes to show the two of you at a helicopter pad, “There was a Groupon for a bird’s eye helicopter view from New York. It was still a lot, but you deserve the best, to show you how much you really mean to me.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” Was all you could get out, but she just shook her head.

“Yes I did.” she extended her hand out towards you yet again and you took it this time. Intertwining your fingers together as she walked you towards the pilot.

He helped the both of you get strapped in before taking off. The night view was beautiful. How all of the lights lit up, like the lights on a Christmas tree. You were so focused on the view that you didn’t notice the pair of eyes that were on you.

She stared as your eyes lit up on the gorgeous view. The way that every time you saw a cool landmark you’d gasp in shock. Your hands never leaving one another. She was so in love with you, it was scary.

When you finally landed, you couldn’t stop talking about how amazing it looked, rambling on and on about the lights and the building. And again Santana just stared at you in awe.

“And the way the Empire State Building just lights up like that-“ you continued to ramble, but Santana cut you off.

“I love you.” she whispered and you turned your head to look at her. She grabbed your hands, “I’m gonna be honest with you, yes at first it was only to get over Britt and make her jealous. But I fell in love with you, despite all my efforts not to. The way you held me in your arms after we had hooked up. The way your hand feels in mine. And your little quirks of talking too much when you don’t have to. Or how you get so passionate about everything.”

Santana let go of one of your hands, cupping your cheeks softly, “Yeah I know I messed up, but I love you. And I am so so sorry for all of it. I love you Y/N Y/L/N. All of you.”

You were speechless, so you gave the best answer you could you. You crashed her lips onto hers, moving in perfect harmony. Passion flowing from your body and into the kiss.

“God I love you.” you said when the two of you finally broke apart, “But no more hiding, no more just hooking up. All of it.”

She nodded, kissing the top of your head, “All of it.”

[rrasado]

• Realization before Reconciliation •

Hngggggg Gomen Gomen Gomen

I tried getting this out on my birthday but schooldwork said No💙

And I feel really bad that this is all I can give ✋. Anyways who knows.

Tagging: @cherryxart, @anuswaterlily, @raymiazaki, @dittoqueeno, @thatweirdomidas, @bnhastakenover, @jae-tries-writting-stuff, @nightcore-re-val

———————————————————————

...

“Psst! MC wake up!”

The human groaned as she sat up from the white sheets of her bed. Ah, that’s right...

She’s a resident of purgatory hall now.

How long has it been...a month now? She’d rather not keep track honestly, that day she left the House of Lamentation, carrying her bags and never looking back, was it the right choice?

“Ah! Sorry Luke, I’m coming don’t worry!”

She groggily stood up, quickly getting changed into a more casual outfit before treading out of the room to meet the other exchange students.

“You’re finally awake MC.”

Simeon gave his usual serene smile while solomon only crossed his arms and chuckled.

“Let’s go, we’re meeting up with satan at the place correct?”

“Yeah! Just let me go grab my D.D.D real quick.”

The device was plugged in prior to charge before the human pocketed it, dismissing the notification as the four of them treaded out the doors of Purgatory Hall.

———————————————————————

How long has it been?

Mammon was slumped over the edge of his bed, scrolling through his D.D.D, taking in every old picture and selfie he took the last few months.

The months he spent with the human. He pushed back his hair and let out a frustrated groan at the memory of the exchange student. Damn his stupidity, damn his ignorance, damn his selfishness, damn his greed, damn everything about him for not realizing that his human was hurting. Honestly, What did he feel about the whole ordeal? Would things be different had he noticed the subtle changes in her routine? Everything frustrated him to no end. The day she left... does he even remember what happened then. That day was still vivid, the venom that seeped out of the human’s gaze when he tried to chase after her through the door was still engraved in his mind, and he hated it. But what he hated more was how he just gave up on the spot, watching her leave the gates with her bags.

He stood up to go grab a drink from the kitchen, abruptly opening his door garnering a loud crash through the air.

“Tsk Mammon!”

The fourth born stood their with eyes squinting. He caught the door with his bare hands, which showed the almost accidental crashing had it not been for his reflexes.

“Satan bud you scared me.”

His azure blue eyes flickered to his brother’s attire, is he going somewhere?

“Where’re you headed?”

“It’s none of your business, tell the others i'll be going home late tonight”

His usually calm tone dripped with spite as he marched down the velvet ebony staircase, his coat trailing behind him leaving the Avatar of Greed to his own devices.

“Tsk...jeez what’s his problem…”

He ran his hand through his stark white locks, treading towards the kitchen to get his mind off of everything so far.

———————————————————————

“Hey Luke! slow down”

The human chuckled while being pulled by the angel, the child had a skip to his step as he whined even more.

“Oh c’mon MC! I can’t wait any longeeer. We might lose our seats if we don’t make it there in time!”

The white haired wizard gave a chuckle whilst Simeon pried off Luke from the other human.

“Luke it’s called a reservation for a reason, besides! We still need to wait for Satan to correct?”

The younger angel gave a pout as he crossed his arms.

“He better show up in the next five minutes or else-”

“Or else what?”

The familiar tuft of blonde hair approached the group with a wave, garnering the angel to shut up before he could say anything else.

“Fashionably late as always”

“Well as fashionable as Satan can get anyways…”

“Oh haha very funny”

An amused chuckle escaped the human’s lips as she shoved her hand in her pocket.

“Shall we get going? The cafe is a 15 minute walk from the campus’ gates”

A series of nods and grunts of agreement had the peculiar group on their merry way.

———————————————————————

The white haired demon pulled his hair in frustration while the Avatar of Gluttony hunched over the table behind him, stomach demonically growling in hunger as Mammon gave an exasperated sigh. The first born merely sipped his coffee as he read through whatever documents he was holding, only working there instead of his study because of the need for a change of scenery.

“Oh for hell’s sake the fridge is empty again! The cabinets ain’t in better condition either!”

Lucifer pushed back his hair as he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Stop complaining like a child and go ask Satan, He’s on grocery duty for this week anyways.”

“That’s the thing tho Lucifer, Satan left earlier to who knows where.”

“Tsk oh for crying out loud is there no one in this house who knows how to be half the least competent!”

Beel only sunk his head further on the table letting the hunger consume him.

“...MC would usually accompany Belphie during emergency grocery runs…”

A deafening silence wrapped the dining hall in tension, daring the occupants to make the first move.

There it goes again… that human, the former resident of the House of Lamentation. It still stung them all, was it the guilt? The guilt of not being able to ease her hurting? The guilt of being the very reason why she was hurting in the first place? The guilt of repeating history’s misdeed?

Oh how cruel of them to be so selfish.

‘Diavolo would be disappointed’

‘You had no hand in helping’

‘You’re no better’

‘You had the audacity to even smile’

‘You have the gall to even eat?”

‘You dare have the right to be angry’

The first week was a hell in of itself, Lucifer was snappier than usual, Leviathan never came out of his room, even taking his classes online rather than showing face at school, Asmodeus partied out late less than usual, it’s even noticeable by his hair that he disregarded his self care routine by a bit. Beel and Belphie took it the worst out of all of them. Beel couldn’t bear himself to eat any food MC was fond of. His appetite abnormally dropped and his palette shrunk down to mere bread and stale meat, all washed down by nothing but water. Belphie on the other hand… oh gosh Belphie , the youngest never woke up unless it was Lucifer himself who commanded him, even then he was asleep for 23 hours a day, not even giving a single care wether he understood the school material as he naturally would due to his mind going static at anything that reminded him of the Human.

The Deafening silence was broken by a loud thud from the stairs as the Avatar of envy rushed down with a rare frantic expression.

Leviathan heaved heavy breathes, reeling over to his knees in nothing but an energy drink stained sweatshirt and old sweatpants that he probably wore for a week straight. His usually unenthusiastic voice echoed throughout the dining room.

“LOOK!’

The third born shoved his D.D.D in their faces as their expressions faltered, the bright screen illuminating a shot of a candle lit dessert in front of a close eyed genuine smile they failed to keep.

And the oh so daunting caption ?

‘Happy Birthday MC’

..The mug of coffee was now shattered on the floor..

Oh how cruel of fate to torture them this way...

———————————————————————

Aaaand cut, the end...? Idk what’s angstier the fic or how disappointing the ending is. I don’t know how to end this honestly, that one insomnia induced fic blew up two months ago for some reason and I never had a plan in the first place 😂. The demand was high and I tried my best to deliver but I am no writer. 👉👈

Anyways thank you for all the love and feedback for this crappy mini series. I didn’t want to end this fic abruptly but alas my mind said No💙.

The prequel.

The first part.

The thought.

[samwearsreebok]

The Forgotten Uley

Sam's father left when he was young, taking nothing but the car and Sam's little sister.-

~Paul's pov~

I never really liked Sam's sister. So I wasn't bothered when she disappeared along with his dad. She was mean and hurt people just cause she felt like it, not that I could talk. unfortunately our dads were best friends so we were always around each other. no matter how often it ended in tears. Needles to say I learned not to tell girls their frilly dresses and pink dolls were dumb.

I never missed her. I never thought she would be coming back. I never thought that if she did she'd be this stunning. Tall and a really good figure. She had black curly hair cut like a boys. Her nose was the same as Sam's so was her eyes, she was still, some how, beautiful. I knew in my pants-

I was pleased when she walked into my science class and sat at my table. I got a better look at more than just her face. Her clothes were all black; a tight fitting band shirt, black skin tight jeans, doc Martins, and a bomber jacket the back covered in pins patches and bottle cap badges. Her makeup was minimum, I'd you didn't count the dark eye shadow, plum colored lips, and well the rest of the makeup.

I had to wrack my brain for her name. It took a hot second but Ryver eventually popped into my head. That sounds about right. Then Mr. Deshal called out "Miss can you come to the front of the class and introduce yourself?" She groaned getting up and walking swiftly to the front. To spite what her serious all black look made me think her answer would be, probably something like "I hate the world". She stood and said "My name is Ryver Uley I used to live in England..." but then she launched into a lengthy story on how she was killed by a gigantic lizard in 1832. Mr. Deshal had to tell her to sit down. Not that that knocked her smirk.

That was the best lesson I ever had. Not just because of the way her ass moved when she walked to the front of the class.

As I walked to lunch Jeremy chattered to me about the next basketball game and how we were 'so gonna win it'. To be honest, I thought he sucked at basketball and that he would make us loose. But I didn't say anything, cause I'm nice like that. That thought was worth a laugh. I had almost completely forgot about Ryver Uleys beautiful face. But alas I was in the popular click. The girls in our group always had some new drama or gossip, predictably todays was Ryver. "I sit with her in science." I offered to the girls, immediately Emily hit me with a Machine gun fire of questions "What's she like? I bet she's a total weirdo!I bet she is have you seen her jacket?" honestly I should have known better this were always so judyg.

I guessed this would be Ryvers shot at making friends over. or not I kind of just realized there was nothing Stopping me from going over to the table she was sitting alone and talking to her. So I did.

"Hey Ryver,"

"what do you want?" She spat

"Damn, to have a conversation." I retorted

"why so you can go tell those skancs you were sitting with," each word got snappier and more agitated, but the last part was said with a fake sickly sweetness. "all the hot goss on the new girl?" I was dumb founded. Girls usually blushed and giggled when I talked to them. "Cat got your tounge?" she asked when I didn't respond. Then She picked up her tray and left.

[shyflameweasel]

These Hands

Well this is a first for me, never really wrote for this dude before

2BDamned never expected this situation. While it was normal to expect the unexpected in the uncertainty that was Nevada, especially considering who he worked with, this had never been an option. He had refused to - but...now he had no other choice.

You’d been sent out on a reconnaissance mission. Personally, he had wanted to keep you with him for a bit longer due to a previously sustained injury. But it had been too important to postpone for one of the others to get back and you had reassured him that you were well enough to the task. He trusted you, so reluctantly he had let you go. Everything was going fine for the next few hours and 2BDamned had allowed himself to relax slightly. 

He shouldn’t have.

Next thing he knew a distress call had been sent before the coms were cut.

None of the others were close to the area, wouldn’t be for awhile. Now this was bad. While you definitely weren’t some helpless newbie; your injury would make it twice as hard to get away. Not to mention that you did hold sensitive information. The doc didn’t even concern himself with you giving away secrets but the AAHW was known to be ruthless in getting their way.

Great...just great. He was the closest one in the area but he damn well wasn’t a close combat fighter. Even if he could make it to the facility; there was no way in hell that he would be enough to complete rescue mission like this on his own. So he made the decision. 

Radioing the other three, he told them of your capture and that the moment they were finished with their missions they were to go straight to the facility for a retrieval. (2BDamned buried the worry twisting his gut into knots before they could dig their claws in. The operation was far bigger than his own feelings. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t let himself jeopardize everything.)

Two days passed after your radio silence. 2BDamned kept himself occupied with other important matters that needed to be done. He was growing far more snappier than usual but refused to comment on it. By morning of the third, Hank radioed in that retrieval had been successful. The doctor hurried his way to the main room, a bag of supplies gripped tightly in one hand. He was going to give you the lecture of your life once he got his hands on you. He was so worried he’s not letting you out of his sight for a month after this no matter how long it would take you to recover from your stay. Cursing at any god that would listen that you were alive.

He got to the room a few minutes before Hank did. He refused to get his hope’s up.

Nevada’s most dangerous assassin came in...and dropped a bag the size of a basketball onto a nearby table, stating that that was all he was able to find before walking back to his room.

His heart sank - 2BDamned walked over to the bag and opened it. Haphazardly tossed inside was a head. Carefully more gently than any would expect he lifted the severed head. The face was purpled with bruises and the faintest trace of decay was wafting off of it.

There was no way he could see himself working with this situation. While two of his teammates had died, one far more than than the other, they at least had most of their parts nearby for him to fix them up. Hell, he knew the only reason Hank had survived blowing up was those ‘higher powers’ that seemed to want to keep him alive.

Logically, he knew that he should just dispose bury your head. There was nothing to do and he refused to let himself be the weak link in their operation. Emotionally...he was searching for something anything that he could do to bring you back. The doc was about to give up when he remembered an old story he’d read way back. It was crazy but...in the madness of Nevada it just might work.

All he needed was the right parts and to make sure that your head was preserved.

It took both more and less time than he expected for his plan. After getting your head tucked away somewhere safe he started the beginning stages. Looking over any and all mission debriefs he instructed the boys to retrieve the corpses of specified people of interest and other special individuals. When questioned, he snarked back that it was for a project.

While the number of bodies he was given were fine, they were not always in desired conditions. It wasn’t shocking considering how his coworkers got, it did get quite annoying. If he was going to go through with this madness he was damn sure to give it the best chance it could get. While that was going on, he set up all the needed equipment. This was far easier for him due to his aptitude towards machines.

Augmenting the parts where they would be needed most, increasing durability so the likelihood of this happening again was slimmer he slowly but surely completed his task. If he wasn’t so used to the smell of blood and death he would have gagged. Anything that didn’t require his full attention had him multi-tasking with their project.

It took several weeks, but he was finally finished.

On a examination table laid a stitched together amalgamation of corpse parts and machinery. Slightly larger than what he would have wanted but he worked with what he could get his hands on. Your head was attached to the makeshift body. 2BDamned would have liked to use more of your original body for this but since it was gone your head was the best thing he could use.

Checking everything over for what had to be the third time in a few minutes, he calmed his nerves, and flicked a switch. Nexus energy surged through the body. He kept the energy going for a solid minute before turning off the flow; checking that the machines were watching the vitals. The faintest heartbeat was detected.

2BDamned sat down at a nearby desk and got comfortable. There was work to be done but there was no way he was going to leave you to come back without someone there. He would definitely say that Frankenstein was a wack, in Nevada fantasy could very well become reality.

[summerdazed]

A list of random things about Gideon:

When asked what his best feature was he replied his smile. Of course it’s fake as hell because that man has probably never smile genuinely in his life but normal people don’t know that.

He’s extroverted but does get burnt out after a few hours and wants alone time or a nap. Don’t bother him during this time or he’ll most likely be snappier.

One of his short term goals is to learn how to navigate using the stars. (Too bad he sucks at it.)

When he was younger he picked up cursing from his favorite tutor and hasn’t stopped since.

He talks in a fake accent half the time to hide he real one. Especially when he doesn’t want to stand out around others.

He collects bugs for fun. Like the dead butterflies people have in frames. He loves those.

He has a bad habit of fidgeting and not looking people in the eye. When he was younger is was something that got him in the most trouble.

Drinks too much but only ever at events he deems he doesn’t have to be sober for. Luckily he is not a lightweight in the slightest.

Dresses really nicely in public and when meeting people but if you caught him around his house he’s probably wearing simple dirt stained clothes and muddy boots.

Has a bad back. (Hot girl things 🤪✌️)

His legs and forearms are usually covered in cuts, scraps, and bruises from not being careful messing around in the forest. Someone please bandage his hands and kiss them for him. He’s gonna melt but he deserves affection.

One of those people that are pretty sleepers and never snore. Also never has bed head when he wakes up or looks crusty. (Ugh morning people am I right?)

He loves music and dancing but is not the best at both. He somehow manages though. Somehow.

Because of his isolation when he was younger, he wasn’t particularly close to any of his siblings when they were alive. They weren’t the fondest of him either so he felt like even less bad when they died if that’s possible.

He wears gloves a majority of the time to hide a nasty scar on one of his hands from uhhh “unfortunate incident.”

He loves ladies and talking to them. Especially if they hug him or kiss his cheeks. Granted if anyone did it he would blush and shut down. He just loves attention.

He may act all tough and brave but he is a weenie at heart lmao.

He really like savory foods but will try anything you feed him once even if it sounds gross.

He genuinely enjoyed school when he was younger and excelled in it.

How does Gideon see himself ? He sees himself as absolutely worthless. He knows that he will never, ever live up to his surname no matter what he does. That's why, when he finds someone that he thinks might elevate his status, he latches on for dear life.

How does Gideon believe he is perceived by others? He believes that others see him as a worthless piece of shit that can't do anything to save his life. That's why he tries so hard to make sure everything goes absolutely perfectly.

How confident is Gideon? Depends. Sometimes he's the most confident bastard that's ever walked the Earth. However, other times he is the meekest person in the world. It sort of swings back and forth between these two. He is never in between. Ever. This is probably due to his uhh problems

He always carries a bloody photo of his mother with him at all times even though he didn’t like her very much. Old habits of trying to please her die hard.

Has a diary and writes in it religiously. Had that embarrassing moment where someone read his diary when he was younger but it still never made him quit writing.

I have a lot more stuff but I’m just going to leave it at that for now. Slowly be surely I want to show more of his dark side. Also if I have writes for him some hidden on docs do y’all want then even though I can’t guarantee their quality?