#i eated her hardhat

[evanostic]

nori as that 'mary magdalene in a cave' painting by hugues merle (below the cut)

[enkays-den]

Hermits as birds from where they live/were born!

note: my knowledge is centered around North American birds, so sorry if the european ones aren't super accurate

Bdubs: Northern Saw-Whet Owl. He's just a little guy with big eyes. Small and evil, love him

Cub: Common Starling. Skulk like-iridescence, incredibly friendly. Plus, with Cub running the horn store this season, he NEEDED to be the bird that can imitate pretty much any noise it hears

Doc: Bonelli's Eagle. Large raptor found in Germany. It's straight "brow" and hunched posture remind me of Doc

Etho: Common Loon. THE! CANADIAN! BIRD! Despite being "common", their pattern is simply EXQUISITE Plus, it has a red eye! Also listen to the noises these things make, it's literally stock nature sounds all in one bird. Also, I'd put Etho on my one dollar coin.

False: Barn Owl. Very elegant owl, I just feel it suits her, that's all. Very stately posture.

Gem (Season 10 specifically): Great Blue Heron. It's a fisher, it's blue, it's menacing, what more could you ask for?

Scar (Hotguy): Double-crested Cormorant: A waterfowl bc scar did competitive swimming, it's got a slightly funky shape which I feel suits scar's personality. It also has the Hotguy colors!

Grian: Eurasian Bullfinch. Parrot Grian will not reign supreme. Look at that little guy. He's mischievous, he's red, I do not trust him.

Hypno: Stellar's Jay. My provincial bird! I just think both have very chill and cool personalities

Jevin: Lazuli Bunting. Just a little blue guy!

Impulse: American Goldfinch. Black and yellow, need I say more?

Iskall: Booted Eagle. Something about a stout raptor just feels right. Look at that posture. Reminds me of when Iskall tries to copy the brits' accents.

Joe: Turkey Vulture. Although seen as odd or menacing, all vultures are integral to the local ecosystem and are in actuality, very elegant and gentle birds.

Keralis: Boreal Owl. Yes, I did make the two guys with big eyes owls, What of it? LOOK at him. Put a little hardhat on him, put a little hawiian shirt on him. Precious sweet face.

Mumbo: Avocet. It's basically a vibe check and a mustache joke.

Peal: Black Swan. Big 5AM Pearl vibes. Giant, beautiful, protective. Love that for her.

Ren: Giant Kingfisher. Obligatory King Ren joke, it's a South African bird, and it's kinda goofy looking. I think the speckled feathers look like a ruffled fur collar on a king's cape.

Skizz: Golden Eagle. Large, majestic, hella strong, and he's wearing pants :3

Joel: Tree Swallow. Very small, beautiful, agile bird. The swallow's wings remind me of Asian art styles.

Stress: Magpie. GOR-JUS and LOUD. Imagine her next to Iskall (they're very similar in size, bless them)

Tango: Swainson's Hawk. I fought every bone in my body to not make an Arizona Cardinals joke when I already made a Phoenix Coyotes one maybe half an hour before. The Swainson's hawk is on the smaller size, but still a deadly spitfire, which I think suits Tango

TFC: Brown Pelican. A solitary bird, definitely a rare sighting. TFC was always joking about how much he would eat, I thought a pelican was apt

Beef: Barred Owl. MY FAVORITE OWL. I literally call them 'round beefy boys' and they're just so sweet and I love them

Wels: American Kestrel. I LOVE these little guys. Simply the smallest, cutest and beautiful falcon there is. They're about the size of a pigeon. It's just got such a regal posture despite being a little cutie.

XB: Rock Pigeon. Despite being common and seen as a "dumb pest", they are pretty intelligent, there's a reason they were used to carry messages around. They're also a close relation to doves! The green collar also is like the jacket collar on his skin.

Xisuma: Semipalmated Plover. X and Mumbo were both chosen because of how those birds run on the beach. They're RIDICULOUS. This subspecies is exclusively because it look like he's wearing a little helmet.

Zedaph: Firecrest. Just the GOOFIEST little guy I found on the wiki of British birds. Look at that thing /aff. Also, Zed do be blowing up a lot

Cleo: Partridge. Beautiful bird, looks like they want to kill you in your sleep, just like Cleo.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

"Rise and shine!"

The voice was shrill, needling almost, it dug into Zeb's dreams like fingernails into flesh and tore him free of his slumber.

His eyes opened slowly, grit grinding underneath his lids as if he'd used a sandstorm for a pillow.

The barracks at the Weather Factory were bare bones to say the least, gray concrete rooms buried deep somewhere in the facility's guts, safe from any storm or catastrophe short of the building falling out of the sky where it hung.

Zeb had been there 3 days in accordance with his sentence and he knew deep down that he would never get used to... all of this.

The Knights had told him that Fairyland, as a concept, was wholly unnatural but he'd never understood just HOW unnatural that was. Weather, and the movement of celestial bodies like the moon and sun, had to be done MANUALLY or else the entire planet would collapse under the weight of its own stupidity.

Zeb sat up in his bunk and rubbed a hand down his face and then stared at his palms. His nails were longer now, more claw-like and just as black as the rest of his arms. It made him feel inhuman, more than inhuman, or less than inhuman?

He didn't feel like a person anymore, just a Thing slowly being devoured by something else that he couldn't stop.

He slipped on his gloves and shoved the thought as far out of his mind as he could, and then he got dressed for the day. A Factory Worker's uniform wasn't flashy, it was a jumpsuit and good boots and a hardhat, with a hair net underneath. Sure the boots had wings at their ankles that fluttered nervously as he tugged them on, but that was apparently necessary for walking on clouds and stuff.

"You're with the Sky Painter today!" Said the needling voice, a sort of dandelion fluff pixie creature with a clipboard no bigger that his thumbnail was perched on Zeb's shoulder. "She's really nice, I promise."

He didn't reply, choosing to shove a protein bar into his mouth instead. Human food was hard to come by this far off the ground, but Jack had packed him a suitcase full of snacks before he'd left and it was the only thing keeping him alive right now. He wouldn't eat fairy food, ever, if he could have one thing left from his old life it would be never ever letting fairy food touch his tongue as long as he lived.

The walk from the barracks to the Sky Painter's studio was longer than he'd expected, taking several twists and turns past the snowflake cutters and the storm wranglers, and a detour through the cloud shapes department where Zeb accidentally ran face first into a tiger made of rain clouds and got soaked.

The Sky Painter didn't seem to mind the soggy little boy suddenly standing in her studio. An odd sort of creature with big ears and kind eyes and a long tail like a living paint brush. She swiped hands and tail across a huge canvas and dotted it with the fading stars of a bleeding dawn, edged by timid rain clouds, one shaped like a tiger.

Zeb watched her work for what felt like a long time, changing the sky from bloody morning hues to the soft blues of pre-noon, to the golden glow of high noon, slowly fading into an ashy gray that heralded oncoming storms.

"Could you give me a hand?" The Sky Painter said finally, glancing at Zeb. "I'm almost out of black."

Zeb glanced around until his eyes fell on a huge jar sloshing with black liquid, he hoped was paint. He hefted it in his arms and carried it to the canvas.

A pair of wide white eyes opened in the depths of the black paint bottle, startling Zeb hard enough to shriek. The eyes stared at him wordlessly as the Sky Painter dipped her brush tail in the black paint and swiped it across the canvas in a great arc that she blended with white until a perfect shade of stormy gray was achieved. The black paint moved in its bottle, bubbling and boiling out the top until it formed something like a head with two wide white eyes that blinked and stared. The Sky Painter patted the living paint tenderly and wiped the resulting handprint on her smock. "That's my Kid, don't worry they don't bite… no teeth and all that." The Sky Painter then took the bottle and upturned it, giving it a single firm shake when nothing happened.

The Kid fell out of their bottle with a thump and slowly organized their fluid shape into something resembling a person with two arms and two legs and a brush tail like their Painter.

"Break time, go on now." Shooed the Painter.

The Kid stood and threw on a much stained sweater with sleeves that dragged the ground. They scampered away in no particular direction, leaving inky paw prints in their wake that vanished after a few seconds.

Zeb watched them go, his brain suddenly feeling liquid in his skull.

The Sky Painter retreated to a corner of her studio surrounded by drop cloth curtains, pulling them back to reveal a little apartment stashed away in the shadows. She washed her hands and put the kettle on to boil before pulling lunch out of the fridge. Zeb heard the telltale plap plap plap of the Kid's liquid footsteps behind him and glanced back to see them being chased across the studio by an irate looking Ray of Sunshine.

The Sky Painter seemed unbothered by this, so Zeb tried to be too as he sat down at the little table and ate more of his snacks while the Painter ate cloud roast sandwiches and drank tea.

"So, I feel like you have questions." Said the Painter in between bites of sky fish and cloud roast.

"Where do you get your paints?" Said Zeb, suddenly wondering if all her paints were alive like the Kid.

"Oh anywhere really, it depends on the day. Sometimes they're donated emotions, or the favorite hues of my patrons, or colors that only exist in the deepest dark where nothing has eyes to view them." She took a long sip of her tea. "Or I get them on from Hobby Lobby when they have a sale."

Zeb snorted without meaning to, and watched the Sky Painter grin. Every tooth in her mouth was a different color.

More wet footsteps came from up behind Zeb and he watched The Kid grab a sandwich, sitting on the ground to eat it. He expected eating would be difficult for them if they had not teeth like the Painter said, but the Kid seemed to manage just fine, opening a mouth in their otherwise featureless face and taking 'bites' of the sandwich like a normal person would.

Crumbs floated in their paint for a bit before sinking out of sight, they dusted off their sweater and stood up again, ready to get into more shenanigans.

The Kid waved a limb, or what Zeb presumed to be a limb (it was hard to tell with how amorphous the Kid was. Despite this, he waved back politely and turned back to the Sky Painter.

"I painted them too you know, sort of by accident." The Sky Painter poured herself another cup of tea. "One misplaced swipe of my brush later and boom, I'm a Mama."

The Kid scuttled across the art studio with purpose, diving headlong into a pile of empty paint containers and coming back out with a fairly large jar stuck over their top half. Zeb watched them wander off back the way they came as if this new hat of theirs was a regular occurrence.

…knowing them it probably was.

[frostbite-yinny]

...Do you have any mons that are eligible to work as service mons?

@lotsofbugz

Well hello there! Sadly, we don't have many that are already trained, but we do have a few that are fit to be sent to training ^^ I am guessing you are looking for an emotional support service mon so I will not be recommending any Pokemon that are too young and eggs as you are looking for a Pokemon fit to work;

Nameless Jolteon; You met this little gal already. She was an Eevee up until this morning when an asshat very valued customer came, looking like he was looking to adopt and made her evolve before leaving this fine establishment. She is having a little trouble adjusting to her new body as this was quite a sudden change. She is a very sweet and caring Pokemon, she is also quite mature and level-headed. I'm sure she would make a great service mon.

DaisyCream the alolan sandslash; She is calm, she is collected and she is the perfect lap Pokemon. She would be a great companion for you as she is low-energy and great at figuring out peoples emotions. She has been discharged early from her job in construction because of a work-related injury that affected her back. She is definitely not fit for battle and can suffer weather-related aches. But it doesn't lower her quality of life so there is nothing to worry about ^^

Hardhat the parasect; This little fella here is the only pokemon that is actually emotional service mon trained. He was some kid's service mon and helped her until her last breath. the parents couldn't bear to keep him around so he ended up here. He has all the golden qualities you would want from a service mon and his experience is just a plus. A little disclaimer is that he likes digging and especially enjoy eating roots, so you need to train him out of raiding your garden. And now a few more calm and level-headed pokemon that could be good candidates; Mummbles the boldore, Greedent, Biscuit the perrserker, Clown the pansear and a quagsire Hope that I could be of help!

[aprilbrowines]

Scp Erased Chapter 6: Between a rock and a hardhat

Summary: Scp-173 is against a worthy opponent while Clef and Bright looks for the culprits

It was supposed to be a relaxing day at work, Howie and his worker bees were hired to build a residential building today, nothing too fancy. As he was fixing up some of the floors he heard some scrapping from afar. He thought that one of his worker bees was dragging some rebar on the floor.

He turns around to see nothing but a lone figure from the distance, He squinted his eyes before continuing his job. He heard the scrapping again, this time louder. He turns again to see upon close inspection that it was a statue with its arms out.

“Whoever’s doing this better stop fooling around and get back to work!” He shouts, giving his worker bees an earful before getting back to his job. With one last scrap he turns quickly to face the statue eye to eye. Its arms almost boxing Howie in as he glares at the statue not taking his eyes off.

Both figures were staring at each other, neither one breaking eye contact. The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a steak knife, his face as stony as a mountain while his eyes looked through the statue, almost burning holes in it. Sweat dripped from his brow, time seemed to slow as all focus was on scp-173.

The statue was perplexed, why was this human not blinking? Why wasn’t he turning his back? Was this what the D-class felt when they stared at it? The paralyzing fear and terror?

It trembled slightly afraid of what this human might do. Suddenly darkness enveloped it as it was contained in a box, Howie blinked as he saw Percy beside him with two other people. “Howie are you okay?” percy asks inspecting his neck.

“I’m fine, I was just doing my job.” He said, “Who are those two?”

Agent Baker was inspecting the box’s stability while Agent Tanner was calling the foundation.

“Temporary associates for a case I'm solving.” She merely said

—

Giovanni was pacing back and forth, his mind racing as crusher tries in vain to calm him. “She hasn’t answered back,” Giovanni said. “What if she’s hurt?!”

“Dude calm down.” Fred said

“She’s probably still at the toy store.”

“I didn’t see her.” Ben replies. “You couldn’t see anything through that Pink Eye you got!” Spike said.

He huffed, putting eye drops in, Don’t dive into a ball pit if you know what’s good for you. They were making assumptions of Molly's whereabouts when they heard a knock at the door. They all peek from the hallway to see what was going on.

“Evening miss, We were wondering if you’ve seen this man anywhere.”

As Crusher’s mom was talking to what was assumed to be a police officer, He saw Molly in the back of the car, eating a kids meal.

“Hey there Beartra—”

He covers Ben’s mouth as they all go back to hiding.

“Oh man what do we do now Boss?” Darkstar asks.

Giovanni chewed his lower lip, thinking of a plan that would get Molly out of there. He needed to be quick and sneaky. With a snap he had an idea!

—

“Thank you for your information ma’am, we appreciate your…help?”

As the last word escaped his lips a nerf dart zoomed between them, hitting the car and transforming it into a clunky motorbike with sidecar—Molly was surprised but safe. A bellow of fog enveloped them as Giovann’s boys scramble out the door. Giovanni grabs her. Car crash starts the truck while they all scramble in driving off.

Dr. Alto blinked in confusion while Bright grabbed his hand, “Come on Ukulele!” He grins

“Let’s ride!”

[carli-meows]

yo momma jokes are like trading cards to me,

like how yo momma is 2 timing between me and my homie

dont get mad and shit, listen, let me tell you somethin

how yo momma so fat eat the muffin man and aint leave nothin

what about yo dumb ass pops, the fuckers so stupid

thought he could print out the cover of a book & flip through it

ya fathers such a hypocritical penny pinching bitch

he scams the homeless on a homemade cardboard bench

you sisters the same, a fuckin gold digger

without a pickaxe and hardhat, just her nostrils and pinky finger

bitch is so shallow, if she was a puddle, sheesh, right?

im sayin at that point i could walk on her and be like jesus Christ

your brother too, he's so dumb he bought a beatbox

they sent him a crusty sock in a package, a brand new skeetbox

he's so stubborn, he demanded free food from a wishing well

and complained to the devil that it was too hot in hell

[eldritchtouched]

Been thinking about TF2 AU Elden Ring with the demigods. Like, who would fit which classes and why.

Malenia as Scout. Both are the youngest of eight (acknowledged) children and known for their fast-paced and relentless style of fighting that requires a lot of maneuverability on their parts. While Scout is far more arrogant and brash, the boast Malenia gives could have shades of it, since she has been felled in battle.

Rykard as Soldier. Let me be perfectly clear that I think Rykard is far more ‘insane’ by any metric than Mohg but people latch onto that description for Mohg because of Gideon. His whole plan is basically “get vored and then eat everyone,” which is frankly not a workable plan, especially since he keeps eating all the possibly sympathetic Tarnished who might otherwise join his ranks. Soldier, as a character, has a very shaky grasp of reality and his methods of handling everything is questionable, such as rocket-jumping, and it only works because the TF2 setting is heavy on cartoon logic. They’re also incredibly hammy. Tanith is also as ride-or-die as Zhanna, what with the former’s eating Rykard’s corpse in hopes of rebirthing him and the latter with the ear necklace. Rykard also uses lava as a sort of environmental hazard in his fight, much like how Soldier has splash damage.

Melina as Pyro. Melina and Pyro both have a heavy association with flame and have basically almost no information about themselves. Indeed, they tend to act more as a mirror to build other characterization up outside of the small slivers of glimpses about them. They are surrounded in speculation because of how little there otherwise is. Narratively, in Pyro’s case, and literally in Melina’s case, they’re phantoms within the work. (While this also applies with Godwyn and Miquella to a lesser extent, we get more about them.)

Godwyn as Demoman. This one is the shakiest by far. (And some would say that, due to design motifs, Mogh might fit here better for missing an eye and being considered ‘cursed’ but design motifs were mostly a secondary consideration for this list in favor of their lores, characterization, and how they handle combat.) However, Godwyn and Demoman both get shit done. Godwyn managed to fight dragons to a standstill and a good Demoman is insanely good at mopping up a whole team, especially fi they know all the tricks. Both also have mothers who expect them to do certain things a certain way, the former being how Marika was probably trying to groom Godwyn to take her place at first, and Demoman’s mother and how that plays out. In both cases, they’re disappointed in their sons for specific things related to their vocations/directions their life have gone in.

Radahn as Engineer. Radahn may be big and brash, while Engineer is as short hardhat man, but both are intelligent characters specializing in, among other things, physics and teleportation-related abilities. They also have shades of questionable morality that many of the audience do not see.

Mohg as Heavy. This one might be controversial, both because Heavy/Medic is a common pairing while Mohg/Miquella is reviled outside of a subset of the fandom who actually ship it. However, I’m focusing on two things in particular, despite being a Mohg/Miquella shipper! First has to do with their fighting style. Mohg and Heavy both take whatever someone dishes out and then responds in kind. They are very bulky and it takes time for them to reposition because of it. Heavy and Mohg also have a lot going on under the surface that’s similar. Heavy became a mercenary in order to protect his family and keeps them hidden in the middle of nowhere in the Dzhugdzhur mountains and is often assumed to be slow-witted by virtue of his simple English. (He is not stupid, he has a PhD. in Russian literature.) Due to his appearance, Mohg is often assumed to be a monster and not a very bright one at that despite having one of the more workable plans in the post-Shattering setting, and keeps his following safe by virtue of only teleportation being the means to access the grounds under a wasteland. And if you get anywhere near the most vulnerable of the bunch, they will tear you a new asshole.

Miquella as Medic. Both have strong associations with biology specifically, between Medic’s expertise and animal experimentation, and Miquella’s routine moth motifs. They are shrouded in ‘angelic’ imagery to the audience and can be incredibly charming and affable. They are also notably bad at fighting directly. The rest of the characters around them can defend themselves well, but Miquella and Medic are uniquely vulnerable characters because fighting is not their primary focus. While they both can defend themselves in the pinch, it’s clearly more risky for them because, again, not their focus. There is also a strong element of their manipulation, if you delve into their characters. Medic is able to be quite manipulative, to the point of conning the Devil, while Miquella might have the ability to make people like him. Both have strong focuses on healing, with Medic’s being literal and Miquella’s being metaphorical with the Haligtree. Medic and Miquella also have associations with raising up to divinity- Medic is all about creating gods/an ubermensch/playing god and Miquella himself is trying to raise himself up to divinity.

Morgott as Sniper. Morgott and Sniper both have a characterization where they’re kind of obsessed with validation from their parents to actually treat them well (and only receive it upon death canonically, though Sniper gets better). Morgott’s fighting style is also generally 1 on 1 and his sword is dex-based, while Sniper is very much only fighting 1 on 1 or hanging back and sniping or observing.

Ranni as Spy. Spy and Ranni both share fairly ‘cold’ motifs, being incredibly pragmatic and using people to their own ends. They are also both associated with performing assassinations with blades that can functionally kill instantly. They also both do not wear their own faces, as Spy both has his disguises and keeps his face hidden, while Ranni abandoned her body in favor of a doll body. While often cool and playing things close to the chest, they can be endearing to those whom they trust, though that is a scant few, including whoever they take as a lover.

[knox-carmody]

About the Muse + the Blog

Writer: Alex/Lex (she/her); 29; EST

Muse: Knox Samuel Carmody (he/him); 34; line-worker (ranch-hand, sometimes)

FC: Matthew Daddario

Associated Personal Blog: moonstonewrites.tumblr.com

Rules:

Will not write: smut (I will only do fade to black), rape/dubcon, incest/stepcest, extreme violence/gore, self-harm, daddy/mommy kinks, major age gaps.

Will not interact with krps, celebrity rps/celebrity muses.

Will not write with muns or muses under 25. Do not lie. I will block you.

Multi-shipping is accepted.

Will utilize trigger warnings and content warnings as follows: “trigger tw” and will tag for violence, blood, gore, abuse.

Aesthetic for Knox

Wind whistling in your ears, the clatter of a baseball bat on concrete, the heat of dogs at the foot of the bed, trucks with dents in the bed, hardhats flung on the floor, callused hands. 

General Summary

Caught in the middle, literally and figuratively. Second child of a dairy farmer and a waitress. What his family lacked in money they did not make up for in reputation either. His childhood was tumultuous, but he managed to keep himself out of trouble mostly. The same could not be said for Knox’s adulthood. It is difficult to hide from DNA and Knox is no exception.

Full Biography

TW: alcoholism, domestic violence, childhood abuse, murder, infant death

The family layout is oldest brother (Butch; deceased), Knox, and his little sister, Faye. As a kid he always wanted to be around his older brother and father on the family farm.

Dairy farming is hard, dirty work, and like so many family-owned farms across the country, the Carmody family struggled to stay afloat. The constant financial struggles took its toll on Knox’s father and his parents’ relationship. Knox’s father fell deep into the bottle during his early childhood and he never seemed to find his way out.

Some people are happy drunks, funny drunks, or sad drunks. His father was none of those. He was a mean drunk and all of his meanness came out at the sight of the wife and kids he could not provide for.

By the time Knox’s little sister began elementary school, the family started to sell off portions of the land to make ends meet. With every financial loss, the deeper his father fell and the meaner he became. Knox and his siblings learned to follow their mother’s example. They never asked for anymore than the little scraps Knox’s father gave, and they made do with skills outside of him.

For Knox’s mother, this was waitressing. Unfortunately, his father’s demons stole most of the money his mother earned. Knox and his siblings learned early on how to fend for themselves. They stole food from classmates’ lunchboxes, went “shopping” through the lost-and-found, and occasionally swiped things off front porches to eat or sell. 

Their mother, too worried about staying afloat and keeping Knox’s father occupied, never noticed whenever her children came home with belongings that were not bought by her. She just accepted their weak excuses because there was always a bigger fish to worry about in the pond.

Things came to a head when Knox was 12 years old. The family farm slowly bled out until it dried up. It was only by a stroke of luck that Knox’s mother managed to hide away enough money to afford the first month of rent and security deposit for a three bedroom double wide in the local trailer park.

Living in a small space was a hard adjustment, but the proximity to other homes meant there were more places to escape his father. Knox and his siblings, used to being teased and bullied at school, found it easier to fit in after the move. Knox and his brothers were hardly “popular” by any definition, but they made more friends and that was the beginning of their divide.

Butch, always following in their father’s footsteps, found kindred spirits among the troubled children of their hometown. Knox, always more quiet and observant, kept to the outskirts of social circles. He was friendly with many, but friends with a select few.

Instead, Knox focused on helping his mother keep afloat. His father’s drinking, now at its worst, meant more and more of his mother’s paychecks disappeared. It would have been easy to steal and cheat his way to little chunks of money. Knox, always observant, knew there were other family’s just as fractured as his own living in the trailer park. Families that did not have someone coherent enough to fix leaky faucets, shovel the walkway, or patch the roof. 

Knox’s father passed away unexpectedly from a stroke during his sophomore year of high school. Butch quickly filled the black hole his father left in the family. He was always in trouble, always being dragged off by cops, and always treating all of them like dirt. 

Knox spent the rest of his teenage years working odd jobs and dragging himself through school. His mother rarely asked for anything from her kids, but she wanted all of them to graduate high school. So, that was what Knox did. Then, against her wishes, he went straight to vocational school. 

He took to electrical work like a fish to water. His mother always wanted more for her children. She wanted all of them to have well-paying white collar careers, but with her oldest child racking up a steady record of petty crimes, she settled with her second becoming a blue collar worker. Just as long as he was honest about his work, and Knox always was.

The routine Knox established worked for him, but it was a routine. As more and more of his classmates graduated from university, less and less of them came home. His eyes slowly began to wander towards different horizons. 

It was at Butch’s funeral that Knox reconnected with an old friend, a quiet crush, named Nora. She was technically one of his brother’s flings in the past, but she was always Knox’s friend. 

Things developed slowly between them. They chatted regularly, then he went to visit her where she attended school at the time. They were always just friends until they became something more. 

For the first time in his life, Knox was in love, and like many young people in love he made a decision that others found crazy. When Nora dropped out of school to chase after her dream of being a horse trainer, Knox took on work as a lineman to travel the states with her. What sounded stupid to everyone else, clicked for him, and they were happy.

A few years into living on the road, Nora found out she was pregnant. He was shocked, but not terrified, never terrified. Fatherhood made sense to him. He had the perfect example of what not to be, but in the end it didn’t matter.

Death, much like chance, does not discriminate. While Nora compartmentalized the pain of their daughter’s death, Knox spiraled, and that was when the constant contracts and moves proved to be a mistake. As Nora threw herself into her work, and he was left to his own devices, it was all too easy to find a friend at the bottom of a bottle. 

The next couple of years were a whirlwind. Nora held onto him for as long as she could and that was three years. 

It took time for Knox to gather himself up to return to his hometown. He returned home a mess.

Drinking to take the edge off was a lot different than drowning in his grief. After struggling to keep down a job and burning one two many bridges, he went down to Florida to get sober once and for all. 

The heat and the sunshine did him a world of good. He’s returned home and some of those burned bridges are beginning to mend, but that’s still not the case for his heart. 

[pbandjesse]

I'm not sure if or when I will get the clips from being on the news. But I was on the news!! It was scary but fun!

I slept okay last night. I had to get up at 6 and surpringly I was feeling good and was in a good mood. I loved my outfit and felt super cute. My eye was hurting a little bit but I was alright. I was just a little anxious about getting to the museum.

Me and James headed out and got down to the museum. Stopped for breakfast. Even if I was to nervous to eat.

Claire was at the museum already to meet us. I went and fixed the chase I made. I found a great font to replace the top line. And made a few prints. James brought in my bag I forgot in the car so I could start setting up for my workshop too. And I started feeling calmer.

The news people came. And they were so nice. The woman anchor was just coming back from her honeymoon and it was her first day back so that was exciting. I got to share the machine shop with them first. And apparently I was a natural and did great. It happened really fast but it was all fun. And I just kept telling myself people will like you more if you just do it. No nerves necessary. And I think I did a good job!

I had an hour until the next segment. So I went to set up my program. Which is where I realize there was a disaster. The foam we ordered was wrong. Very wrong. Instead of being rigid sheets it was like tissue paper. I was so upset. My heart was racing and I was like. Okay how do we fix this.

I went and told James do they could ask the group chat with the office team. And I ran around trying to find styrofoam plates. Stanley had styrofoam cups. So I started trying to cut those out but they were small and rolled and I was so upset.

But Jessica came to the rescue with meat trays! She lent me a bunch and I cut those all out and they worked great. Crisis averted just in time for the next segment.

This one was in the print shop and was my favorite one we did. I talked about the process. The chase I made for them. And the linotype. I actually maybe talked to much but it was still really fun! And they shouted out my workshops! Very cool.

I hung out and made sure the workshop was ready to go. Had a sandwich and waited for the last segment.

This was the one I was most nervous about. I had to talk about the new exhibit and I don't know a ton about beth steel. But it was good. I only stumbled a little and we showed off the touch boxes and wore the hardhats and it was real silly. And I only got a little flustered.

James's mom called them and said I was darling on the news. So I really hope I get the footage so I can see and share with everyone. But even if not it was a great experience.

Once the news left I had some time before. My workshop. And while we wouldn't have as many people as we wanted it was still excellent.

Mary from the nursery came to observe and Auni helped out too. I think she may have been surprised at how self sufficient the program gets after my intro. But I also took them to the print shop to show off the larger presses and the lithogriohy stones. Which I learned today can not be bought new anymore?? It also uses less acid then I expected, I thought it was more like etching but it is actually used to float a grade layer for the ink. Wild. Love to be able to add to my knowledge base.

The rest of the workshop was great. They all did a great job. And it was a lot of fun creating and watching the little family groups. I also just enjoyed talking to the mom's. One of their brothers for married at the same place me and James are getting married so that was awesome. And two of the kids are going to be campers at Puhtok! Amazing! They are going to be day campers but it will still be an awesome time for them I'm sure.

We went over and that was fine. I don't mind. But then we were like an hour over and I was supposed to give James a lunch break. So I was slightly stressed. But I would slowly clean up while the last two people, a lovely aunt with her niece, kept working for a while. They got to try out some rubber stamp carving too because I had some extra pieces with me and they want to try it for the next workshop so I am glad I could use it as like a promo/demo.

It was a great time though. I finished cleaning up and packing up and went to give James a little break.

Jessica came up to talk and then we had a family come over with so much positive feedback for the musuem and they were just so sweet. And it was so nice to hear positive things. And I didn't mess up any of the register stuff so that was good.

James came back and had their burrito and we chatted about dinner. But I was excited to go home. I was tired after a pretty active morning.

I was home before 2. And it was beautiful out. I changed into my house dress and put some stuff away. I had a snack. And did my knitting. And around 3 I went and laid down.

I slept for about an hour and a half. And when I woke up James was here! Editing their podcast. And then they would make me an excellent dinner. And we hung out in the living room.

I laid in the hammock and watched tiktoks and soon James was leaving to go to the game. Which has gone into extra innings. But I hope they will be home soon.

So I spent my evening enjoying my time in the apartment. I worked on the print I started last night and it is possibly done? I am really happy with it though even if it's not perfect. I think it came out so cute!!! I may make more. But I love this idea of having coloring sheets so having more then one image could be really nice.

After I did my printing the sun had gone down. And so I took a long bubble bath and it helped my skin. I have a million new spots but at least they don't hurt so bad. My skin was looking really dry earlier today. Which makes me feel worse. I don't mind the red so much. I do mind the flakes. No flakes allowed!!

So I lotion myself constantly. And will continue to do so. I am in bed now. Waiting for James to come home.

I am working a wedding tomorrow. But I am going to enjoy my day. My goal is to not feel guilty. Which is so silly but it's very hard for me. So wish me luck. If and when I get the news clips I'll post them but regardless. I hope you all have a great night. Take care of each other!! Goodnight!!

[gamenu]

          This time, there's no vice head to ask for her assistance. Goodness, it's the queen carrying a small cloth in his hand that's been bundled up to carry the shards of another mishap. It's all he could bring to her, for now, as this was only a small fraction of the damage he'd bore witness to earlier.

          Despite his composed exterior, his hands were shaking. Not out of weakness or fear of being turned away but anger. Stifled, fiery anger. Simply the aftermath of facing a disappointment from earlier but he minds his tone with her, "Naira, I've a favor to ask of you." one he'd be able to pay handsomely for if she desired payment, this time. If that's how fairies even worked...

           Placing the folded cloth before her, he unfolds it to show her the shards. Fragments of a piece he cherished a little more than the vanity she'd magically repaired before. "Seeing as you've flawlessly repaired something I thought wasn't possible to fix before, I hope you can aid me in this." Remnants of a mirror his mother gave to him many years ago. As much as he didn't care to acknowledge their history, this would be a piece he wished to repair - the details as for why, well ... they are not beautiful details.

                                                              -- @pomfiores​

          Naira had already been in the middle of another project. When Vil would happen upon her, she’s got a string tied around her waist, and a tiny hardhat on her head. She’s been going in and out of a little mouse hole in the wall and trying her best to figure out what potentially lived in there, and what she could do to repair the wood. Which...involved figuring out how old it was and the kind of wood needed. Or more or less what tools she could use.

           Letters to carpenter-talent fairies would be needed so she could better get a grasp of the materials. Animal-talent fairies would be consulted on how best to deal with anything that could be living inside. It’s when she hears Vil’s voice that she abandons her current little mission and flutters out of the hole and to him. Slipping herself out of her little makeshift rope, she looks to Vil with a rather confused expression.

           Landing on the table, Naira looks to see as he had placed the remnants of a mirror in front of her. Glass...is always a tricky one. Its so fragile and could hurt so badly if not handled correctly. Yet, Naira was never one to shy away from a challenge. And if there’s one praise her mother sang so proudly of her, was that she was one of the more clever fairies. Naira would be able to figure this out and get it done.

           She takes a moment to get Vil a cookie. It’s placed on a napkin in front of him, and while she knows he can’t understand him, she’s speaking. He’s hearing naught but bells, but hopefully the sound and chime of them is comforting. One of her trying to express concern and comfort for his anger. Trying to tell him to eat. A gentle pat to one of his hands with her own tiny ones.

                                         ‘These things always make me feel better. When I was angry or upset, mother would feed me and tell me it would be okay.’

           With Vil hopefully cared for, she can now get to work. First things first, materials. Going through her tool bag, she opted to grab her syringe, her mortar and pestle, and a small flat scraper. Along the desk she decided to ‘borrow’ some tissue paper that had been left out. Unraveling it, she looks to the mirror and places the glass around in what should be the shape of it before it broke, then cut out a matching piece of the tissue paper. The next step would involve her fluttering to and fro from the desk to the kitchen, bathroom, collecting different things and mixing them to make a rather strong adhesive. She uses that to create a stabilizer film. A pinch of Pixie Dust to make sure it would bond with the glass.

           This time, she’s going to cheat a little. The leftover adhesive is sprinkled with Pixie Dust and mixed to become a resin that she uses to piece the mirror back, filling cracks and letting it sit. Occasionally using the scraper to prevent bubbles and smooth out any edges that spilled over so the mirror was fine. All through out the process, ever since she started actually working with the glass, she was using small dabbles of pixie dust here and there. It’s to make the bonding easier and to help with the weight of it all when she needed to move it.

           Once the glass and resin was set, now was the waiting game. Sitting down in front of it, she looks to Vil, then points to a clock on the wall. They have to wait now. But she thinks she’s done a well enough job. Once everything settles, it’ll look...messy. But in place and whole again. It will simply have to be cleaned like any other mirror would now.

           After a few minutes, she looks to Vil. There’s a soft flutter of wings before she decides to flutter up to his face so she can look at him directly. It’s soft, once again he can only hear bells, but her message is as clear as day.

                                                         ‘Are you okay?’

[wkemeup]

okay speaking of mugs, have you ever seen that post about that man making a mug display wall for his wife🥺 that would be bucky and peter they would do that for mc

wait yes I think so! It was something about her ex thinking her mug collection was stupid and her new man fully made a whole wall into a display for her??? Honestly goals. Bucky and Peter would go all out, too. Hardhats. Eating sandwiches on the windowsill during break. One minor trip to an urgent care when Peter trips over the tool box. Bucky + Peter bonding time ✨💞

[fruit-teeth]

Matters of Time and Fate (8)

/(AHAHA FINALLY!! So sorry for the delay!! I know you guys probably thought I forgot about this story but I didn’t! Anyway I’m gonna shut up now, please enjoy)

Sniper woke up early that morning, and the first thought in his mind was that he wanted to make coffee. He’d had a rough, feverish sleep the previous night, and he needed to cleanse his mind with a cup of black coffee. Just the way he liked it.

As Sniper went to the kitchen and began to prepare coffee in the pot, he internally praised himself for waking up early before everyone else. Now he could have his coffee and he could make his breakfast in peace and quiet, without anyone –

“Are you making coffee?”

Sniper startled, turning around to see Olivia standing there. He fumbled for a moment, trying to think of how to answer.

“Uh…yeah, I am,”

Olivia hopped up on the chair beside the kitchen counter, looking over his shoulder. “Make a cup for me! I like milk and sugar in mine,”

Sniper processed this for a moment, before he looked back at Olivia, confusion in his eyes. “What? You want coffee?”

Olivia looked at him like he’d just asked a stupid question. “Yeah? I like coffee! My nanny makes some for me every morning, with milk and sugar,”

Sniper scoffed. “Really? I mean…” he scratched the back of his head. “You’re only six, should you really be drinking coffee?”

Olivia pursed her lips together. “My daddy says I can have it! He says everyone drinks it,”

“Well,” Sniper cleared his throat. “Six-year-olds don’t drink it. You know what I drank when I was six?”

When Olivia shook her head, Sniper replied, “Milkshakes, I used to drink them every morning. They’re not really that healthy, but I can show you how to make some,”

“Milkshakes?” Olivia thought about it, and then shrugged. “Okay. Can we put chocolate in it?”

Sniper just grinned at her. “I like your thinking! We can put whatever we want in them. You like peanut butter?”

Olivia nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

“All right, all right,” Sniper laughed, opening a cabinet and getting out a jar of peanut butter, as well as some cocoa powder. “Let’s get started – pass me the blender, yeah?”

Meanwhile, Engineer was sleeping peacefully on his air mattress when he was rudely awoken by the loud whirring of a blender in the kitchen. He startled, stumbling to his feet in the direction of the noise.

“What in Sam Hill is all that racket!?” he snapped, hovering in the doorway.

Sniper looked up from where he was pulsing the blender. “Sorry, mate! We’re making milkshakes, blender’s real loud…”

Olivia stared at the mixture of peanut butter, vanilla ice cream, cocoa, and banana through the clear plastic of the blender. “Press the button again! It still looks lumpy…”

Sniper pressed the button, and the violent whirring struck right back up. Engineer flinched at the sound. “Gosh darn it! I should make a blender that’s real quiet – I probably could!”

The whirring died down again, and Olivia checked the milkshake again, frowning. “Still lumpy!”

Before Sniper could mash the button again, Engineer shooed him away from the blender. “Hey, y’know what? There’s some stuff we still need from the store, how about we take a little shopping trip and I can buy some more parts to build a quiet blender? Then you can put whatever you want in there without wakin’ the whole house,”

Sniper huffed. “Look, the milkshakes aren’t done! Gotta blend ‘em somehow,”

Engineer grabbed a wooden spoon and handed it to Sniper. “Use this! Do it the old fashioned way,”

Sniper rolled his eyes, but he took the spoon and poured the mixture into a bowl. He then stirred around a bit before it appeared edible, and then he poured it into two separate glasses. “Here ya go,”

Olivia took one of the glasses, eyeing it suspiciously before taking a sip. Sniper sat down at the table with his own glass, watching her. “Thoughts?”

Olivia thought for a moment, before nodding. “Good! It’s good,”

As she sat down and started to drink the rest of it, Engineer began cleaning out the blender, when a thought struck him. “Hey, Olivia – would you wanna go to the store with us? You can look around, it might be good to spend some time outside,”

“The store?” Olivia asked, blinking. Her father never took her shopping, they always had someone around who would just pick up groceries and other necessities for them. “To do what? Buy things?”

“Well, yeah,” Sniper shrugged. “That’s what the store is for. You could even look at some toys too, if you want,”

“Toys…” Olivia had never owned any toys. Her father always dismissed them as ‘childish’, and she’d done the same. But, she realized, he wasn’t around, now…

“Okay, I’ll go,” she agreed, and then reached for her glass of milkshake again. “But right after I finish this,”

Sniper just chuckled. “Yeah, of course…”

Upon waking, Scout could hear the sound of Engineer’s truck starting up from the driveway. Confused, he got out of bed and went downstairs, watching as Sniper got his shoes on by the door.

“Hey!” Scout barked, leaning over the railing of the stairs. “Where you guys goin’?”

Sniper glanced up from his shoes. “Oh, we’re gonna go to the shopping center. We just gotta pick up a couple things,”

Scout hopped down the stairs, fixing his hair and grabbing an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter to eat. “Can I go? I’ve been dyin’ to get some extra clothes and stuff!”

“Sure, if you want,” Sniper shrugged. “How fast can you get ready?”

“So fast!” Scout took another big bite of the apple, turning on his heel to head upstairs. “I’ll be dressed before you know it – I’m a master at gettin’ ready quick!”

True to his word, Scout was in his day clothes within just a few minutes. He sprayed on his cologne and bounced back downstairs, only to see Olivia standing by the door.

Scout flinched, as he was still a bit wary around the girl. “…hi? Um, whatcha doing, kid?”

Olivia looked away, and Sniper clarified, “She’s coming with us, we’re gonna get her out of the house for a bit,”

“Wha…!?” Scout opened his mouth to argue, but when he saw Olivia staring back at him again, he thought better of himself. “Okay, fine…” he sighed. “Is Engie outside in the car?”

“Yep,” Sniper opened the door, ushering Olivia and Scout out of the house. “Let’s not keep him waiting,”

As soon as everyone was in the vehicle, Engineer started it up and began to head down the dirt path leading to the road. The sun was shining bright overhead, casting the sky in a brilliant blue.

Olivia watched as the hills rolled by through the windows of the truck. She’d never seen anything like it until now, and she thought it was very beautiful. The way the sun reflected off of the wheat in the fields and the grass looked like something out of a story book to her, and it made her feel something she had never felt before, some kind of longing deep within her soul…

Engineer switched the radio on to a country station, and Scout huffed. “Aw, come on! Seriously, Engie?”

“Hey, it ain’t my fault you don’t have taste,” Engineer replied simply.

Olivia tilted her head, listening to the music. “What’s this?”

“Country music,” Sniper answered. “Have you never heard country music before?”

“No,” Olivia shrugged. “It sounds like those weird movies my daddy used to watch,”

Scout’s brow furrowed. “What movies?”

Olivia searched for how to describe it. “Movies about these men with big hats and guns…cowboy movies! They’re called cowboys, I forgot,”

“Old westerns?” Engineer sounded surprised as he turned a corner, heading down into the town. “Your dad liked old westerns, Olivia?”

Olivia nodded. “Yeah, he watched them a lot while he did his work. I watched them only sometimes,” she remembered walking in during a scene where a sheriff was pointing his gun at a burglar, and how her father had paused his paperwork to point to the screen.

“Do you see that, Olivia?” he had asked. “We call that a ‘negotiation’,”

“But there’s a gun,” Olivia had pointed out. “And they aren’t really talking…”

“This is a last resort negotiation,” Gray went on to explain. “They actually are very good at getting what you want, you might find out,”

Olivia blinked, coming back to the present as she heard Scout talking again. “Huh!” he remarked. “Never took him for the type to watch those kinda movies, always thought he was more of…” Scout trailed off, glancing at Olivia and recalling what had happened the last time he made a snide remark about her father. “…never-mind.”

Olivia folded her arms back up and looked out the window, getting quiet again. The whole truck went silent aside from the music playing on the radio before Scout decided to at least try and make conversation.

“So, uh…” he cleared his throat, getting Olivia’s attention. “What are you hoping to find at the store, kid?”

Olivia just shrugged. “I don’t know,”

“You don’t know?” Scout asked, surprised. “Damn, whenever I went to the store as a kid, I always had a list of stuff I wanted to buy with my allowance. You can’t think of anything?”

“No,” Olivia shook her head. “I’ve never been shopping before,”

Scout’s eyes widened in alarm at that. “Never!? Damn, kid, what have you been doing your whole life? You know what? Here’s what we’re gonna do – I’m gonna show you what to do while at a store! I’m a pro, you’re gonna thank me later,”

“Don’t teach her anything stupid,” Sniper warned. “We don’t wanna get her in trouble,”

Scout waved him off. “Aw, come on! It’s gonna be fun, I promise,”

They finally arrived at the shopping plaza, a place Olivia had never seen before. As Engineer parked, Olivia stepped out and looked up at the buildings with awe. “Wow! There’s so many stores!”

“I know, right?” Scout got out after her, before turning to look at Engie. “Where to first, hardhat?

Engineer pulled out a list, checking it. “Well, let’s see…we need parts for the new blender, some extra snacks, and then whatever else we think we might need,”

Sniper pointed out a hardware store nearby. “How about there first? That looks like it’d have blender parts,”

As they walked in, Engineer turned to Olivia and Scout. “We’re gonna look at some parts, you two look around. Scout?” his tone changed to one more serious. “Keep her outta trouble, okay? I mean it,”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Scout waved him off, before gesturing for Olivia to follow him. “C’mon, kid! Let’s have an adventure,”

Olivia trailed after him, curious over what ‘adventure’ this store could have to offer. They wandered around a bit, before Scout paused. “Ooh, okay! Take a look!”

“What?” Olivia looked to where he was pointing, and she gasped a little. Sitting several feet away were a line of model bathrooms, complete with their own bathtubs and showers. “What is that? Are those real bathrooms?”

“Nope!” Scout grinned, approaching one and running his hand over the sink. “They’re models – if you wanna buy a bathroom, or make one, or whatever, these are models you can follow, pretty much,”

“Oh!” Olivia approached it, fascinated, leaning over to look in the tub. She turned the levers, but no water came out. “There’s no water!”

“Yeah, it ain’t hooked up,” Scout explained, checking the cabinets. “Aw, sweet! Someone left something in here!” he fished it out, only to make a face. “Ugh, never-mind. It’s someone’s stupid pamphlet thing from…the ‘Sculptor’s Clayground’? Huh,”

Olivia wandered over to another model, seeing a beautiful clawfoot tub. All of the sudden, she had the urge to climb into it, and without thinking about it she clambered inside sat down.

Scout noticed, and he laughed, leaning in to look. “There ya go! I wonder if you could hide in here…you’re small enough, ain’t ya?”

Olivia made herself as small as possible, but she suddenly laughed, imagining surprising someone like this by hiding in the tub. She’d never considered doing something like that before, but it felt very exciting somehow.

Before Scout could see if she could fit in another model tub, a voice from several feet away barked, “Hey! What are you doing!?”

Olivia sat up in time to see a woman in an employee’s uniform walking up to them, and Scout immediately became defensive. “Hey, hey, we’re just playin’ around, lady!”

“I’ll say,” the woman sighed, gesturing for Scout and Olivia to leave. “This isn’t a playground. Please just take your daughter and move along,”

Olivia paused, looking to Scout in confusion. “Daughter?”

Scout’s eyes widened, and he suddenly appeared offended, scooping Olivia up and setting her down. “I am not her dad!” he exclaimed, before taking Olivia’s hand and briskly leading her away from the models, leaving the employee very confused.

[thetriggeredhappy]

Scout's been having a rough week because everyone seems to be too busy for him, even though the team is on vacation. At first he's bored, but as the days continue, he finds himself angry. But soon he just feels awful lonely, desperately craving the attention/affection he's been lacking. Finally he goes to Demo and Sniper, who are working on an important project. They tell him they're busy for the time being, but are suddenly alarmed when he breaks down sobbing. They do their best to soothe him.

friendship fic is best fic end of story. (fic below the cut, no warnings)

“Hey Hardhat, think we could—“

“Now’s not a good time, Scooter. You run along now.”

“Yo, Snipes, you busy?”

“Yeah, actually. Got things to do. Sorry, mate.”

“Mumbles, what’s up?”

“Mmm-phm. Bmm!”

“Demo, what are you up to, man?”

“Defusing a bomb, lad, best you go on and leg it. Probably to the other end of the base. And maybe find some headphones.”

“Hey Soldier—“

“Not now, Cadet! I am currently engaged in a battle—of wills. Private Munches once again has fleas and they are very contagious. It is in your best interest to retreat now!”

“Hey Heavy—“

“Heavy is welding. Leetle Scout should leave.”

“Hey Doc—?”

“Nein. No, I don’t need to know what you were going to ask. I do not care.”

“Spy—?”

“Clearly you’re desperate if you’re trying to talk to me to find something to do.”

Scout puffed out a breath of air, slumping. “Look, I dunno either, okay? We get the first real break for the first time in like two months and all the guys still sit around acting like they have better shit to do.”

“Have you considered that they’ve also been looking forward to a break and have things they have been saving for that break?” Spy asked, not even looking up from his newspaper.

“I mean, maybe. But c’mon, it’s ridiculous! I’m not asking to like, go do a whole thing all day, I just wanna hang out a little bit!”

“A shame that I am busy,” Spy said, sighing in faux disappointment.

“With what?”

“Anything else.” He waved Scout off. “Go on. Get a hobby or something, something besides pestering all of the rest of us like some kind of annoying dog.”

Scout sulked, leaving and heading back to his own room.

The rest of their first day off, Scout ended up mostly messing around in his room. He flicked through some comics, got bored, flicked through some other comics, got bored, paced around for a while listening to a record before he lost interest in that too and wound up trying to take a nap. About five minutes after he laid down he realized that was gonna be a no-go, and he ended up so frustrated that he cleaned his whole room, right down to vacuuming under his bed. He was up until about two in the morning cleaning and putting stuff away before he realized what time it was and tried to lay down to go to sleep.

He finished cleaning after he went and grabbed breakfast for himself—kitchen entirely empty—and then was left standing in his room, looking around aimlessly for anything else to do. He rearranged his whole little bookshelf, sorting his comics by franchise then by hero then by issue.

He got lunch early. Kitchen empty. Halls quiet, only the sounds of machinery in the distance to tell him there was anyone else around.

By the time he finished eating, he was pretty much desperate for something to do, so he did rounds again to ask the team if anyone needed help with anything. He got a pretty harsh dressing-down from Engie about interrupting him when he was focusing hard on work, very important things. Soldier rambled and ranted at him for about twenty minutes, at which point Scout realized Soldier was barely even talking to him, and was mostly just talking to himself. He tried to track down Spy for an hour to try and ask to borrow his car so he could go into town and find literally anything to do, but the guy wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and he eventually gave up. He got desperate enough for something to do that he even went over to the infirmary, and was pretty sure he would be roped into some dumb experiment or something, but it turned out that Medic was stitching something into Heavy, so even that was a no-go.

So he just went back into his room again.

It had been kinda nice at first, having a place all to himself. As a kid he could count on his fingers how many times he was left alone in any capacity, and then as a teen he found peace and quiet to be pretty scarce. But then his brothers all graduated, and started moving out one by one, and he was left there pretty much alone, just him and Ma. And even then he was constantly surrounded by people, the walls thin in their apartment.

But then he moved out west for the job, and suddenly it was really freakishly quiet. And it kind of blew his mind at first, the quiet. He appreciated it. Especially considering most of the time all he had to do was go in the common room to find someone to talk to. He realized, with his pool of people he could potentially talk to so limited, that he was kind of a clingy person, needed to talk to people a lot.

He got lonely quick.

He remembered after he graduated, splitting up laundry into a once-a-week thing instead of a once-every-two-weeks thing just for the sake of having more time around other people, even if he wasn’t talking to them. Ma kinda got in his case sometimes for how much he would go get food somewhere besides at home, but he kinda had to, kinda needed to talk to someone else on the daily or else he started going stir-crazy. Started feeling bad and gross, started in with having all kinds of dumb ideas running through his head.

Mostly ideas like, maybe the team wasn’t that busy and they just made excuses and tried to seem busy because they didn’t like him. Ideas like, well he already knew that they didn’t like him, he was a lot younger than most of them and a hell of a lot stupider and they called him loud and annoying pretty much on the daily. Ideas like, none of them ever really talked to him besides during battle, and maybe they were just trying to be polite when they did talk to him, and when was the last time anyone asked how he was doing? Ideas like, maybe they really did just hate him. Ideas like, maybe a lot of people hated him. Ideas like, if literally everyone he talked to on a regular basis—all eight people—didn’t like him enough to hang out with him for a little while when they got their first break in forever...

Ideas like, did he really not have any friends? Ideas like, wasn’t that pretty pathetic? Ideas like, well, if he didn’t have any friends, if nobody liked him, did that maybe mean that he deserved it?

Scout stayed up staring out off into space and occasionally getting up and pacing around until about two in the morning.

-

Scout was up early the next day, and paced for just about the hour and a half in anticipation for his usual call home—once a week unless he said he wouldn’t be able to the week prior—before giving up on waiting and just calling early.

It got picked up in the middle of the fourth ring, and by then, Scout had already tangled the phone cord in his fidgeting.

“Hello?” came an immediately familiar voice, and he relaxed.

“Hey, Ma,” he greeted.

“J-Bear!” she practically gasped. “Honey, you’re two hours early. Why are you callin’, shouldn’t you be at work?”

“We’re on a break while some maintenence stuff is happening,” Scout explained, starting to untangle the cord. “And, y’know. I’m wicked bored.”

“All caught up on chores, then?” Ma asked, already the warning note in her voice that meant he might be in for a little bit of deserved nagging.

“Yeah, actually. Cleaned my room finally, all good on laundry, organized some stuff, all that,” he replied. “I was gonna do groceries, but my usual ride places is, uh... ghosting on me a little.”

“Well, are you getting enough to eat?” Ma asked next, sounding worried.

“Oh, no, yeah, I am,” he said quickly. “I’m just, y’know. I gotta eat like, canned beans and stuff like that for a while.”

“As long as you’re eating,” Ma said firmly.

And Scout went to say something else, to start going on about how he was so annoyed with his teammates, see, because they were all being total assholes, right? And then Ma would say something to him, and he’d feel better, because every time he told Ma about something that was going wrong he always walked away feeling better.

But Ma started talking again.

“Honey, I’m really sorry,” she started in, and it was clear that she meant it, and Scout’s heart dropped. “But I can’t really talk for long. I had plans today, and I’m already running late.”

He couldn’t speak for a moment due to the fact that his heart had suddenly jumped into his throat. “But Ma,” he said, brows furrowing, “what about the phone call?”

A short sigh. “I’m a little glad you called early, actually, that means I can ask you—would it be alright if we didn’t have our chat this week? It’s just that your older brother is finally stopping back in town for a little while—“

“Ma, which one?” he asked with a laugh, managing to fit some humor into his voice even as he forced it not to wobble.

“Oldest, sweetie. Anyways, I’m headed out to go meet him for lunch actually, and then we’re gonna come back to the house and chat and all, your niece is real excited to meet the cat, and I’d feel terrible if I left to go talk on the phone for an hour when I have guests over—“

“Yeah, Ma,” Scout said, bracing himself to lie through his teeth to his mother. “It’s totally fine. No worries. We’ll just talk next week, it’s no big deal.”

“You’re a lifesaver, sweetheart,” Ma said, and meant it, and Scout winced. “I love you, we’ll talk next week for sure, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Love you too,” he said. And he listened for the sound of the phone being put down, and he sighed, breath shaky on the exhale. He only put the phone down when it started to beep at him, and then continued to fiddle with the cord for a long while.

-

“The problem is that to send a bullet that far and that straight, the force needed is fairly strong. If you tried to fire this round out of a proper rifle, it might just explode in the barrel, mate,” Sniper explained, turning over the bullet in his fingers.

“So we fire one to test it,” Demo shrugged.

“Not out of my gun we won’t,” Sniper replied, raising an eyebrow. “If you’re aiming to send explosives long distances, best to just stick to rockets or canons or the like. Biggest boom you’d get shooting an explosive round like this anywhere over a hundred meters or so would just be a firecracker. It would just be distracting.”

“Distracting. Now there’s an idea,” Demo nodded, starting to scribble something down on the paper in front of him. “Now here’s a concept, lad; smoke rounds.”

Sniper considered that for a few seconds, tapping his own pencil against the side of the table. “As in proper smoke like a flare, or as in just some sort of, er, blocked visibility?”

“Either,” Demo shrugged.

“Again, anything too flammable would go off in the gun. Maybe some sort of,” he said, gestured loosely for a moment. “Maybe just a round full of some sort of fine powder that would go up when the casing shatters against a wall? Hell of a heavy round I think, probably need a special gun for it. What sort of powder like that wouldn’t be flammable?”

“Well, technically speaking, everything is flammable, if we want to get down to what the word flammable means,” Demo replied, pausing in his own writing. “But there’s a few things that might work. A good powder for that might even just be potassium bicarbonate, that’s easy enough to come by.”

“Why’s that?” Sniper asked.

“Well, most commonly it’s used in fire extinguishers,” Demo shrugged. “I imagine that could really do a number on someone else’s guns or machinery, as well. And I wouldn’t need to put in a budget request to our boss over it, I could just snag the spare canister we keep in the kitchen.”

“Tavish, how often do I tell you you’re a bloody genius?” Sniper asked, watching Demo scribble down some formulas with practiced ease.

“On the weekly, must be,” Demo replied.

“Might end up going over the regular amount during this project, because you’re an absolute bloody genius.”

“Thankin’ you kindly, lad,” Demo said, flashed him a grin.

A knock at the door to Demo’s work space. Sniper got up first, moving to open it.

“Oh. Hey, Snipes,” Scout said, looking surprised to see Sniper answering the door.

“G’day,” Sniper greeted, a little confused. He stepped aside to let Scout in, slightly befuddled.

“Hey, Demo,” Scout greeted, saw the spread of different papers and bullets across the table. “Uh, you guys workin’ on somethin’ in here? You busy?”

“Very,” Demo agreed, stretching his arms up over his head, back aching from being hunched over paper for a bit too long. “You need somethin’?”

“I, I mean, nah. Not really. Just wanted to see if you—uh, either of you guys—were free is all,” Scout shrugged, putting his hands into his pockets.

“We’re working on a project,” Sniper replied, moving to go take his own seat again.

“Trying to figure out the mechanics of a new kind of sniping round,” Demo elaborated. “We’ve just moved on to the part that’s all math and chemistry and physics and the like.”

“Yeah?” Scout asked, a little fidgety, a little awkward.

“Yeah,” Demo nodded. Picked up his pencil again. “Gonna be awfully boring, I imagine.”

“Especially since you don’t really have the head for this sort of thing,” Sniper said, a little jokingly, glancing up at Scout. “Might ask to use you for target practice with it later though, if you’re still bored around then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mundy,” Demo chided, then grinned. “Lad’s far too skinny. Even a marksman like you’d never be able to hit him, aye?”

Sniper laughed, and Demo laughed. And then they looked over at Scout, and Scout wasn’t laughing. He was just stood there, shifting nervously. Not the same kind of nervous as he got when he’d poked and prodded at Heavy a little too long and finally just got hefted up and put somewhere high up that he’d take a while to get down from, or the same kind of nervous as when Spy pulled his knife out and started flipping it open and closed during an argument, because both of those had an amount of “do it, I dare you” in them, an amount of “bet you won’t” in them.

But this time, Scout just looked tense. A little too wide-eyed, a little too avoiding-eye-contact. His chest rose and fell in a breath that looked far too deliberate and therefore awkward.

They both stopped laughing, just looking at him. “Lad, something the matter?” Demo asked, expression falling.

“Yeah, you awright, mate?” Sniper asked, turning in his chair to regard Scout.

Scout removed his hands from his pockets, fiddling for a few seconds. Then he looked up at Demo, then at Sniper, then at Demo again. He opened his mouth to say something.

He burst into tears.

Sniper startled, and Demo’s eye widened. They looked at each other, Demo largely with concern and Sniper with open alarm as Scout hunched forward, burying his face in his hands and crying openly.

A brief nonverbal argument took place, then Sniper was standing, moving over.

“Scout, mate,” he started gently, awkwardly, and after a second put a cautious hand on Scout’s shoulder. “Scout, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Scout moved to cling to Sniper’s shirt, tears redoubling, and Sniper stiffened, freezing up, eyes going a little wide. He shot a look at Demo that could not have more clearly read as “help me”.

Demo quickly rose, moving over. He put a hand on Scout’s shoulder to test the waters, and when Scout didn’t react poorly, he pulled the shorter man off of Sniper and into a hug. Scout crumpled into it immediately. Sniper settled for standing just to one side, patting Scout on the back once or twice.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Scout managed, and Demo shook his head, hugging all the tighter.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, lad. It’s alright. What’s got you so blue?” he asked, tone calm and level.

“Just—just, a lot, okay?” Scout managed, and Demo nodded, tucking Scout’s head under his chin after a second. “It’s just, everyone’s all busy doin’ important shit, and I’m just—just sitting around, and I wanna help, but everyone keeps telling me I’m bugging them and bein’ a fuckin’ nuisance, but I’m really bored and it’s really lonely out here and I—I miss Boston and I miss my family and I’m fuckin’ tired of eating whatever garbage we keep stocked in the kitchen but I can’t go into town because Spy’s being a dick and I can’t fuckin’ find him to borrow his keys, and I’m just...” He burrowed in closer to Demo, taking a shaky breath. “And now I’m bothering you guys while you’re working on something that actually matters.”

“You’re not,” Demo said right away, squeezing him tighter for a moment. “No expiration date on maths, aye?”

“And you’re not a bother,” Sniper added, tone dripping sincerity. He paused for a second. “It’s alright. I’m not going to be upset with you for talking to me.”

“Snipes, you and I both know I’m fuckin’ annoying,” Scout all but snapped, only lacking venom because he didn’t seem to have the energy for it.

“No,” Sniper replied, and exhaled. “You don’t annoy me. I like having you around. You... and Demo s’well I think,” he added, looking over at the Scotsman before glancing back away again. “You’re the best mates I’ve ever bloody had, awright?”

“Can’t imagine there was much competition for that, ya feckin’ hermit,” Demo said dryly, arching an eyebrow.

“Stuff it, Tavish,” Sniper scoffed, flushing, pulling his hat off and shoving it into Demo’s face, making him laugh. “Bugger off, ruining the moment. Absolute piker.”

“I’m still sorry,” Scout said, quieter now, and Demo and Sniper stopped their shenanigans for a moment to listen. “I just feel bad. I’m being a total baby, getting lonely when nobody talks to me for like, two days.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Demo shrugged. “Just means we need to watch out for you better, aye?”

Scout made a noncommittal noise. Sniper and Demo looked at each other, then Sniper spoke.

“We really are working on something, but... you can hang about in here if you’d like,” he suggested lightly. “Might get boring and all, but it’s nothing classified.”

“Just tinkering,” Demo agreed. “Would that help at all?”

Scout nodded, sniffled. “Okay.” He paused for a few moments before he finally pulled away from Demo, wiping his eyes with the his forearm self-consciously, unable to maintain eye contact. “I appreciate it, guys. Really. You guys are the best.”

“No worries,” Sniper said, and gave him a parting pat on the back before he went to pull up the spare chair, situating it between he and Demo’s chairs before sitting back down. Scout took a seat, pulled his legs up onto it to sit cross-legged, and looked down at the papers.

“What were we saying, potassium bicarbonate?” Demo prompted, taking his own seat.

“Right. Might need to talk to Heavy about using his welding materials, but we’d need a real finnicky piece of tech to make the thing without making a bloody mess,” Sniper said.

“And it can’t be from a standard press, we’d want to go for extra precision on a bullet that’ll be going through a sniper rifle,” Demo agreed. “Might need to talk to the Engineer, ask for an hour or two in his shop to borrow his metal casting nonsense.”

“Maybe. Does that, er, potassium carbon whatsit, does it melt down?”

Scout just sat and fiddled with the bullets on the table while they talked, and eventually snagged a piece of paper that wasn’t being used and started to doodle idly. And Demo and Sniper could both tell pretty soon that his mood had improved significantly, shoulders squaring and head being held higher even as he hunched over his piece of paper. And for the rest of their break, Scout took to sitting with either Demo or Sniper while they worked on various things, and at the end of their break, on the last day before they headed back to work, Sniper borrowed Engie’s keys to his truck and the three of them went out to get the greasiest fast food they could find.

And Scout felt better. Really, honestly, better.

[frickyeahfanfic]

SHOULDER ANGEL

pairing: steve rogers/captain america x reader

word count: 2019 (idk how that worked out) 2K

warnings: none just fluff hehe

(PART 2)

summary: you are a mission analysis specialist, hired on by tony. You've worked with him in the past with the initiative, but you just got moved to the stark tower. You are pretty undercover with your work, but you are extremely intelligent and are very good at finding the best drop off locations, escape routes, weapons analysis. (more explanation in the text). The story starts when Happy moves you into Stark tower. 

_________________

“Happy, don’t worry, I got it, just let me- OUCH!”

The unsteady pile of boxes you were carrying fell from your arms. It landed with a thud, a few small memorabilia items tumbling out. 

“See, Agent Y/L/N, if you had just given the box to me,”

You huff and put the rest of the boxes on the floor, gathered up the scattered items and put it back in your arms, this time more carefully. “I’m fine, we’re almost there, right?”

Happy rolled his eyes, but he too was carrying boxes so you couldn’t see. Behind him was one of Tony Stark’s droids, carrying more boxes. Moving was grueling task. 

It had happened too quick. The papers around the apartment complex were notifying the occupants that renovations would be taking place for the next two months. You didn’t have time to think about it, let alone time to find a quiet place to stay. All of a sudden there were hardhats and workers crawling around, like ants in a hole, leaving you no choice but to move out. Frantically, you asked around your coworkers if they knew of a place to stay. 

You didn’t know that Stark Tower was an option, but Tony Stark, your boss, quickly invited you to stay for the two months. 

As a mission analysis specialist for SHIELD, you were often assigned to plan missions and help with the small (but important) details. One day the main specialist was gone and you had to sub in, completely terrified of the task ahead. Your job that day was to speak into the comms of the Avengers, the Avengers, and tell them the best escape route to the small mission they were on. 

“Who is this? This is not Agent Miller,” Iron Man had said. 

“Uh, no, this is Agent Y/L/N,” you said timidly into the microphone. You had just suggested an alternate exit route to the one originally planned, which led to the safety of dozens of citizens.

“Agent Y/L/N, I’d like to offer you a position,” the billionaire asserted with a nonchalant sigh. 

So that’s how you got added to the favorites list. 

When Tony found out that you didn’t have a place to stay, he immediately arranged a room in the tower for you. If there was one favor he could do for you, this was it.

“Y/L/N!”

You spin around, the top box shifting dangerously to the right. The boxes obstructed your view, so you couldn’t see whoever called your name. Your load lightened when the top box was replaced with a smiling face, Tony Stark. 

“It’s a pleasure to have you here! Let me take you to your room,” he said like an enthusiastic hotel manager. 

You followed him, with Happy close behind, and shared some small talk till Tony found your room. He opened the door, revealing a somewhat plain, but cozy room. 

“Here is your key, don’t lose it.” He placed it into your now empty hands. They ached from carrying your boxes. 

As he started to leave he paused at the door frame. “Our lounge area is on floor 27. Feel free to hang out with the gang, I’m sure they’d love to meet you.” A mischievous smile spread on his face and he winked, stirring confusion in your mind. He left, with the door open. A continuation of the invitation. 

“Thank you Mr. Stark!” You called as he walked away. 

Well, you survived the move. You looked at your luggage, then to the door. His words lingered in your head, “I’m sure they’d love to meet you”. Maybe you ought to give social interaction a try. 

You left your empty room to go to floor 27. 

A woman with striking red hair, dressed in black jeans and a black tank top turned her head as the elevator opened. You brought your laptop in one arm for a safe retreat in case this greeting went wrong, and a box of doughnuts in the other. An offering. 

“You must be Agent Y/L/N,” she stated carefully, like a child dipping its toes into a cold pool before jumping in. 

You nod and beam. “Yep. Sorry for the intrusion in your… headquarters,” you said her same tone. 

“You’re fine. We don’t usually have visitors, so this is a nice change.” she stuck out a hand. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Call me Y/N, please, it is such an honor to meet you.”

Two figures lingered in the kitchen area, laughing and talking loudly. You decided you’d leave the doughnuts over there, and have a chat with them. As you approached, they grew quiet, holding their breaths. 

“Hi! I’m Agent Y/L/N!” You said enthusiastically. Emptying your hands you put the doughnuts and your computer on the table beside you. 

One man took a sip of his coffee and nudged the taller one with his shoulder.

He cleared his throat. “I’m Steve Rogers, nice to finally meet you,” he spoke.

You tried not to look him up and down. He was a work of art. 

The way his hair was perfectly combed, face well groomed, blue eyes shining like sapphires. His shirt fit almost too tight, oh those poor seams. The smirk on his face was adorable, like the one you’d see on an adolescent boy when they were up to no good. 

“Finally?” You questioned.

He stuttered. “Tony, uh, talks about you a lot. Says you help with us Avengers more than we know, and that we should thank you.”

You laugh. “Just doing my job.”

“Thank you Agent Y/L/N. I’d love to spend more time getting to know you, but I have some duties to attend to,” the man next to Steve said, placing his cup down and dismissing himself. As he left the lobby, he quickly shouted, “I’m Clint, by the way!”

When you turned to look back at Steve, you caught him looking at you, and he quickly diverted his attention to placing Clint’s cup in the sink. 

“Are those free game?” Steve said, pointing to the doughnuts. 

You tilted your head. “As long as we save a few for everyone else.”

The two of you sat down, across each other and ate a doughnut in silence. He inhaled his, and waited till you finished yours. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled with the last bite of doughnut. 

“It’s okay, maybe I should have tried to savor mine better,” he chuckled. 

You swallow and wipe the edges of your mouth with a napkin from inside the box. “So, you’re Captain America.”

He folds his buff arms. “The one and only. And you’re the shoulder angel.” 

“Shoulder angel?”

Steve laughed. “It’s what Tony, and the rest of the team sometimes calls you. See, you’re like our shoulder angel because you always talk to us in our comms and say the right thing. You seriously have saved our butts a few times.”

Okay, you were really blushing now. Captain America was too charming. 

“Well without you guys, I wouldn’t have a job, so thank you. Plus you’ve saved like, the entire world a few times so.”

His face was starting to hurt from smiling too much. He made a mental note to thank Tony for inviting you to stay in the tower with them. 

A chime emitted from your computer and you opened it up. 

“Ugh, agent meeting in 15. I’ll have to call in. I totally forgot,” you groaned. Normally you’d be fine going to a meeting, but right now it meant that you couldn’t spend time with Rogers. 

You looked up at him and he met your gaze with his perfect blue eyes. He must have been staring at you because he cleared his throat and averted his attention. 

“Forgive me Steve, but I need to take this. It was so nice to meet you.” 

As you started to get up, he jumped out of his seat and came around the table to you. You had to crane your neck to look at him, and wondered why you hadn’t noticed his height before. You loved tall guys. 

After a deep breath, he spoke. “When you’re done with your meeting, can we talk afterwards?”

You beamed at him. “Um, yes, I would love to!” You were startled at his suggestion, but surprise quickly turned into glee. 

“Sweet!” He nodded and watched you leave. 

…..

“Thank you for attending this meeting. Please remember the assignments you have been given.”

The meeting had come to a close. As you shut your computer, you looked to the alarm clock by your bed. It read 8:00pm. 

You exhaled and rubbed your eyes. Exhaustion, hunger, pain in your neck and back from sitting in front of the screen, man, you were ready to collapse. 

Without thinking, you got out of your desk and opened the door to your room. A figure was looming at the door and you screamed. 

“I am so sorry!”

“Steve?” You realized. 

He tried to stifle a laugh, but he couldn’t hold it in. Laughter echoed through the hallways until it hurt to breathe. 

“I brought you some food. You’ve been locked in there for hours,” he said, holding out a paper bag with a Five Guys receipt stapled on. 

Who is this man, and where has he been all your life?

“Do you want to eat in the lounge area? Or, I mean, we could just eat in here, I haven’t unpacked-”

Steve smiled. “I don’t mind, maybe I could help?” He tried looking around you to see the boxes. 

You waved him in and sat on the edge of your bed. He sat next to you, somewhat unaware of how close he should sit. As you rested your legs on a box in front of you he grabbed the burgers out of the bag. 

The two of you began to talk, talk about work, about saving lives, about movies, just about whatever. You felt so comfortable sitting next to him, all of your worries seemed to slip away as you talked into the night. 

“Thank you so much for getting that for me. I really appreciate it, Steve,” You said, then yawned. It was getting really late and it was hard to keep your eyes open. 

Steve turned to look at you and smiled. “It was so nice getting to know you, y/n, I hope we can hang out again, maybe in a more formal setting,” he laughed, nodding to your room. 

The both of you stood up simultaneously, and you walked him to the door. 

“By more formal setting, you mean,” you paused, letting him finish your sentence. 

“A date maybe?” He suggested, going a little red in the face. 

You bit your lip. A date with Captain America? The Captain America?

He folded his arms with a newfound confidence. “Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me Saturday night?” 

��Steve, I would love to.”

The two of you stood in your doorway, eyes locked. Was he leaning towards you? 

“Goodnight y/n,” he said abruptly, turning and leaving you, stuck to your spot on the ground. 

It seemed a little rude to leave that quickly, it was out of character from his behavior that whole night. You tried not to think anything of it. 

Little did you know he was actually going to hug you, or say something else, but he got too scared. He was worried you’d freak out and after all, you had only met several hours ago. 

You slowly shut your door and flopped onto your bed. Wait a minute, you were going out with Steve. Why overthink anything? 

As you looked to the bunched up sheets where Steve had been sitting, you remember his laughter, only echoes in your memory. The way he looked at you as you tried to explain something that had happened at work, gosh, every girl wants to be looked at that way. The longing, the hope that was trapped in his pretty blue eyes. 

Now you could only wait restlessly to be with him again. 

(PART 2)

(author’s note: part 2 probably, thanks for being somewhat patient with me guys, im probably gonna start writing more marvel stuff cause im a hoe for the avengers)

[pacificwanderer]

This is a complete crack anon post, but... every time I see a GIF of Ben from TLJ turning around shirtless, I have the Diet Coke Break commercial (available on YouTube but I can't include a link) from the 90s playing in my head. Tell me that Rey wasn't one of those women gawking at him before she turned her head. I dare you. :D

LOLLLLLLLLLLLL

It’s been a while since I last thought of that commercial. Readslike a modern fanfic AU. In case anyone has no idea which commercial this is, here’s a video.It’s probably the most 90s thing I’ve seen in a while hahaha but hey, nice tocater to that female gaze a bit.

I remember thinking this commercial was so dumb when I was a kidHAHAHA NOW I’m like, shit I want a diet coke.

Ahahaha this made me laugh and inspired me haha.

Up on Ao3 for housekeeping purposes (I don’t trust this site notto delete my work). Best read while listening to this song by Selena.

Thanks for the ask, Nonnie! Cheers.

 ~~~~ 

“What are you staring at?” Rose whispers in her ear, which scaresthe absolute shit out of Rey.

“Me? What? Nothing. What are youstaring at?” she sputters.

Rose rolls her eyes. “Save it. You really thought you could keep ‘Mr.Hot Construction Guy With a Shirt Problem’ to yourself?”

“No, but I kind of hoped to,” Rey replied. “But I’ll share himwith you, and only you. Tell anyone else, and you’re dead to me, Tico.”

“Deal. Lunchbreak time starting now?”

“Looks like it,” Rey murmurs, words trailing off as he comes into view. Construction has been going on for what feelslike forever on the building next to them, but Rey won’t complain. She’s beentaking her breaks early for months just to keep catching a glimpse of the devastatinglyhot construction worker in the lot next to her office.

Selena’s I Could Fall In Love plays softly somewhere in theoffice as Rey stares while he sits, legs spread, sandwich in hand, as he eats.It really is so unfair that someone she didn’t even know could have such animpact on her life, especially considering the main show had yet to start forher.

At first, he didn’t take his shirt off. At first, he just satthere on the rigging, long legs dangling in the air, as he ate his lunch andread. Same book for months, looked like a doozy, and Rey had stopped just shortof getting some binoculars to find out what book it was so she could read ittoo.

Because that would be weird and obsessive and she was definitelyjust taking her lunch break at the same time, every day, in the same spot,because it was a cosmic coincidence and not because she wanted to keep watchingthe hot construction worker from afar. Not like she didn’t have a thing for tall,dark, and handsome, or anything.

Not like it hadn’t been forever since she’d last been out on adate. And, really, who needed dates when you had your own construction workerto lust—erm, lunch date with?

He was tall. So so tall in those work boots, but he moved with akind of grace that could only come after many, many years of working inprecarious situations. He didn’t seem to notice the danger, but he definitelynoticed the change in weather. As spring moved into summer, his flannel wasstripped away to reveal t-shirts that were just a tiny bit too small for him.

Which was convenient for Rey because she’d been trying to decidewhether it was the outline of his abs against the fabric or a trick of herimagination—it was his abs. Definitely. She could see that now.

Until that fateful day came. It was an unseasonably warm day, sohot that even Rey had foregone her normal pantsuit in favor of something alittle lighter and breezier. She’d taken up watch at her normal lunch spot,casually leaning and watching while trying not to look like she was casuallyleaning and watching but then it happened.

He stalked over to his spot, big feet striking against the beam ashe effortlessly balanced that big, broad body. T-shirt today with his workpants—white,thin. Hardhat—horrifically orange, which is the first thing to go. Lunchbox andsoda—probably a Diet Coke. He runs his fingers through his hair before sitting,but it wasn’t necessary. Hat or not, his hair is stupidly and unfairly perfect.

It was like clockwork. He’d eat his sandwiches—sometimes subs,sometimes what looked like pastrami, always two—an apple, break into his sodaand down the entire can in one go before turning to his book.

It was almost Diet Coke time, so Rey popped the tab on hers, andpressed it to her lips. Definitely not because she was imagining what it wouldfeel like to press against his lips. No, of course not. She also definitelyhadn’t picked up a Diet Coke habit either because of him. Of course not. He didn’teven know that she existed, so the idea that she’d do anything because of himwas laughable. She was laughable—her life was laughable—but at least shehad a nice view.

Rey looked away for a moment, contemplating all the ways in whichher life sucked as she sipped from her Diet Coke before she turned back to lookout the window and very nearly spat her soda out. He was sitting there, justlike always, but now his shirt was off. Definitely not like always.

Rey took a hard swallow and nearly choked on her drink as her mindreeled. He was stupid fucking ripped, just casually sitting there, ruining herlife with those broad shoulder and visible pecs. His arm flexed as he slowly liftedthe soda to his lips and Rey had never wanted to be a soda can more in herlife.

She sat, mouth open, eyes glued, pulse racing, as she watched. Shestopped short of leaning against the glass, but it was a challenge. HotConstruction Guy rolled his neck and stretched, almost as if he knew she waswatching, before reaching for his book, but instead of sitting and having aread, like always, he shifted around.

Legs spread on either side of the beam, he leaned back, book inhand over his head, as he lay and read in the sun. Rey looked around as if shewasn’t eating lunch alone and could ask someone whether her mind was playingtricks on her. It was not. He was laying there, sun shining down on hispale skin, as he read on his lunch break.

Shirtless. A little sweaty. Gleaming, even. Okay, glistening. Itwas unfair. Absolutely unfair. Could he see her? Did he know? Was there a god?Should she be embarrassed? Was this real? Rapid-fire questions ran through hermind until she settled, took a sip of her soda, and just stared.

Rey couldn’t be certain, but she thought it must have qualifiedfor one of the best days of her life. And then it happened again. And again.And again. And basically every day the sun was out and high in the sky.

Sometimes, he’d absently brush sweat from his neck or, evenbetter, his chest, while reading and Rey would imagine how it felt to be alittle bead of that sweat, pearling against his bright skin before drippingslowly before drawing his attention. There were all sorts of things she’d liketo do to him. Slowly. Sliding down the length of his big body just likethose obscene little drops of sweat.

Sometimes, he’d run his fingers through that dark, shaggy hair, andRey would wonder whether it was soft, or kind of coarse from the elements. Or whatit would feel like when she pulled him in for a kiss. Did he like having hishair touched? Would he like having his hair touched by her?

And then reality would set in, he’d finish his break, she’d finishher peanut butter and jam sandwich, and go back to work.

She debated going to talk to him, but what was she going to say? “Hi,I’ve been staring at you during your lunch break for months and, also, are yourmuscles as hard as they look?” Yeah, sure. And besides, the rest of the constructioncrew were kind of lewd to the office girls whenever they walked by and that wasthe last thing she wanted to voluntarily deal with. But watching? From afar? Noone could be disappointed by a hot man from afar, especially a hot man who likedto take his shirt off.

The weather started to change, and as summer rolled into fall, theflannel returned—except for those rare, unseasonably hot days where his shirtwas off, and Rey was all hot and bothered under he oversized pantsuit. Reyloved those days. But she also appreciated hot construction guy in flannel too.She contained multitudes.

A few weeks into September, Rey got a nasty case of the flu and wasoff work for nearly a week which was terrible because her benefits didn’t coversick days, so it meant working overtime for the foreseeable future. But theworst part, the absolute worst part? She misses her daily lunch breaks, whichmakes he feel almost as terrible as the flu.

Back at work and still a bit under the weather, she slips into theoffice, waves to Rose who is typing away, before immediately coming to a fullshop about six feet from her desk.

There. There is something on her desk. Something she’d only everseen through the panes of a window.

Big. Thick. Dark. And sitting right on her desk. She’d have knownthat book anywhere, evenif she didn’t know the title. Rey stalks closer to her desk, mistrusting herown eyes until it is in her hands—solid, heavy, well-read. The edges of thepages have been worried so much that she knows he’s read this story more thanonce.

Rey takes a look at the cover and cannot believe what she sees.The title stares back at her and she realizes she’s underestimated just howfucking hot this construction guy really is.

Wuthering Heights. Gothic romance. He’s been readinga gothic romance, over and over so frequently that the pages are worn. Howcould he be any more attractive to her? He was literally reading one of herfavorite novels and for some reason had left it on her desk.

Rey quickly snatches the book up and thumbs though the pages. Theysmell a little bit like gasoline, leather, and book—probably from being on theworksite. She realizes quite quickly that he must smell similar, and thethought overwhelms her so much that she has to take a seat at her desk.

“Fuck,” she whispers and Rose chuckles without looking upfrom her typewriter.

“He came by the other day,” she says while typing along.

“He came by? To see me?” Rey squeaks.

Rose fixes her glasses before answering and Rey just knows she’sdrawing out her answer to drive her nuts. “I didn’t see him come in, but Kaydeltook the book and the note for you—says he was really polite and kind of soft spoken,and dusty, totally dusty.”

“There’s a note?” Rey stammers.

“Oh yeah, she stuck it in the first page. I read it because I’m asnoop—nice penmanship too…” Rose says something else about big hands andtalents, but the blood is pumping so hard in Rey’s ears that she can’t hear athing.

There’s a fucking note and now I have to read it! She canbarely make her hands work as she flips to the front page. A piece of paper slipsout and falls onto her desk.

It has her name on it. He knows her name.

“How does he—?” Rey starts, but Rose interrupts.

“Know your name? Apparently, he’s come in before to ask about you.First time he left anything though.”

“And Kaydel didn’t think to tell me?”

Rose shakes her head. “It wasn’t Kaydel that took the messages—heralternate, Hux. And you know he’d just be jealous. So, are you going toread it, or just let it sit there forever?”

Rey takes a deep breath, and the letter flutters a little as she breathesout. “Okay. It’s fine, right? Only a letter from the guy I’ve been staring atthrough the window for months. Totally fine, right?”

 Dear Rey,

 We’re putting up the wall, so we won’t be able to take our normallunch date together for much longer. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to getcoffee? But maybe not. I had to try. Couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing youthrough the window any longer.

 No pressure. I’ll wear a shirt. Maybe Sarge’s Deli? The pastramiis out of this world.

 Call me?

Ben

 “His name is Ben,” Rey murmurs as Rose nods while watching herreaction. He’d also left his phone number on the paper, which meant she couldactually call him and not just stare at him from her office.

“I think he took his shirt off to get my attention,” Rey marvels.

Rose nods sagely. “I’m beginning to get that impression too. Ben,though? Little name for a whole lotta man. Gonna call him?”

“I don’t know? Should I? He’s known that I’ve been watching him! Thisis so embarrassing!”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Look, hot construction guy just gave you a handwritteninvitation to get to know you town, and you’re worried about looking dumb?He has been watching you too, you know?”

“When you put it that way…”

“Call him. Go out for lunch. See how things go. Tell me all aboutit—spare no details. And then you can thank me later.”

“Thank you for what?”

“For covering for your ass when you come back late from lunch.”

“You really are the best. I don’t deserve you,” Rey starts, butRose waves her off.

“I am and you do. Just do one thing for me?”

“What?”

A devious grin worked its way onto Rose’s face as she demanded, “Lemmeknow whether his lips taste like Diet Coke.”

Rey blushed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And she was definitely, definitely, going to do her best tofind that out for herself.

[taylart-x]

Whumptober- Day 10

Day 10: Unconscious

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go!

Characters: Gordon Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Scott Tracy (mentioned)

Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds or any of the characters form the show (or from TAG). I just want to make cool stories :)

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“Almost there, Gordy. Almost there. Pen will be waiting for you, ya know. She’s gonna be pissed, but she’ll be there. She might cut you into little pieces for worrying her. But don’t worry, I’ll get you there in one piece. She can still give you a kiss on the cheek before we take you to hospital.”

The light was getting closer and closer. They were almost there. Almost out of this horrible pipe system. 

The mission was an earthquake in Christchurch, South Island of New Zealand. The city hadn’t had a major earthquake since the shitshow that was the February 2011 aftershock that killed around 300 people. There had been other shakes and tremors, but nothing as devastating as that and the September quake in 2010. 

This one had been pretty bad.

Many people died, racking up a death toll of around 267, give or take a few. Virgil and Gordon had been sent as the only available members of IR and had been helping the local rescue crews that consisted of professionals (firefighters, police officers, military, paramedics) and volunteers from the surrounding communities. Virgil had donned his exosuit and worked on getting people- and bodies- out of the rubble. Gordon has been helping any injured or physically less able people away from dangerous areas and doing some rubble diving himself. 

This had lead to the discovery of an open manhole, with shouts of a maintenance crew from within the city’s tunnels. One of the crewmen were trapped under a fallen part of the pipes, and the others couldn’t get themselves out.

So Gordon and Virgil had gone in after them. However, the tunnels were cramped, low, and meant that neither of them could take extra gear with them, including Virgil’s exosuit. They still went though. 

They quickly found the workers, one with his left leg pinned by some rubble. The two IR operatives removed the hunk of concrete easily, and secured the man’s leg before helping him, along with the rest of his team, up to the surface again by using their grappling lines and harnesses.

As the last crewman exited the hole, another tremor shook the tunnel. More buildings crumbled outside, their already fragile piles shifting with the shakes. Virgil watched in dismay as a piece of rubble fell over the opening to the pipe system. 

The tunnel continued to shake around them, rocks jumped and concrete groaned under the stress the quake caused. Before either of the brothers could move, a piece of cracked concrete from the roof of the tunnel finally gave with an ear splitting crack. In what seemed to be slow motion, the chunk fell down towards the two. As the two leapt away from the concrete, another piece of rubble fell from above, and Virgil watched as it hit Gordon in the head.

Gordon who had just given his helmet to the last worker to wear as they evacuated the tunnel.

The aquanaut’s eyes rolled back into his head, his legs crumpled beneath him, and he fell like a puppet with its strings cut. 

Virgil jumped forward but was too late to stop Gordon from colliding with the ground. Blood ran down the side of the blond’s face, leaking from the gash above his hairline, staining that golden hair a burgundy red. Vigil quickly covered Gordon with his own body while protecting his own exposed head. A small rock hit Virgil in the head, though he did try to cover it as best as possible. 

They had had a system going with the workers. Each person winched out of the tunnel would wear a helmet, as would the next in line. The person winched up would then throw the helmet they had down to the next helmetless person. Their own hardhats had been cracked and destroyed from the falling rubble, so it was a necessary system. 

For exactly this reason. 

Once the shaking stopped Virgil straightened up again and surveyed his new landscape. New piles of rubble had formed, and the old ones had shifted to create a whole new maze of rocks and concrete in a system that had a tendency to lose workers already. 

The medic then turned to his brother and crouched to reach the aquanaut. He checked the younger’s pulse and breathing and quickly applied a small patch to the bleeding wound on his head. Virgil hung his head afterwards, took a deep breath and looked up again, s new fire engulfing his heart in determination. 

They would get out of here. 

He bent down and scooped Gordon up into his arms, gently arranged his head so that it lay against his own broad chest. With a tightening of his grip he set off to find the exit to this cavernous labyrinth.

-+-+-+-

It had been 7 and ½  hours. Virgil’s arms had protested the extra weight after 4, but he had pushed them to 5. Now he was just dragging Gordon along by the top of his sash, the sunshine yellow too bright for the dankness of the tunnels and the mood Virgil had. His brother had been unconscious for 7 and ½ hours. He had stirred just after Virgil was forced to change his hold, but there had been not a peep since then, and Virgil was going stir crazy.

He had been talking for the past half hour. Mostly to Gordon. A little to himself. But mostly reassurances and promises had left his lips. And a bit of begging for his younger brother to awaken. But no one knew tht. Not with the comms being down since they entered these bloody caves.

As they turned another corner, a pinprick of light was seen at the end of the tunnel. Hope flared for the first time in Virgil’s chest since Gordon had been rendered unconscious. But finally, there was light. They were almost out!

“Almost there, Gordy. Almost there. Pen will be waiting for you, ya know. She’s gonna be pissed, but she’ll be there. She might cut you into little pieces for worrying her. But don’t worry, I’ll get you there in one piece. She can still give you a kiss on the cheek before we take you to hospital.”

His voice echoed as if they were in a theatre and he had a microphone. The acoustics here were pretty good, all things considered. 

So maybe he was slightly delirious himself. He had had a raging headache since he started their journey, and he hadn’t had a chance to drink or eat since the start of the rescue, which was a good 11 hours ago now. 

A silhouette appeared in the light, the dark figure haloed by the orange and pink background of a sunset. Virgil could’ve cried. 

Someone was there. It wasn’t all on him now. Someone was there to help.

And as they got closer Virgil realised he could let go. 

Scott was here. And he would help.

He would help.

And then the light disappeared as he collapsed next to his unconscious brother.

He could rest.

Scott was here.