#the good wasnt good enough to outweigh the bad

[gun-chucks]

just finished good omens s2. okay. what. huh

[synonymroll648]

IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY

[thefightinfoggy]

I hate them (affectionate)

(From Daredevil/Spider-man #4)

[castiels-guitar-gf]

What's your fave book???

ooh this is a tough one!!! i'm gonna have to say a little life. that book passed all of my Good Book CriteriaTM

made me sad/cry at any point in the book

long enough where i cannot comfortably read it in one sitting (i mean, i could if i didn't sleep)

beautiful front cover art. stunning. gorgeous.

annotated thouroughly (i add in my own little thoughts so if there aren't many that means it wasnt a very thought provoking book)

the good outweighs the bad (for example if a book was really slow at parts but a really good book i wouldn't pay as much attention to the fact that it was a slower read)

basically either that or sylvia plath's diary. go read it BUT READ THE TWs :3

[the-rxven-king]

hi i know i dont post much original content on here anymore or anything like that, but i did just go update my ko-fi with commission stuff and updated my gallery if anyone would like to go check it out! even just looking would mean a lot to me

heres a lil link for ya, thank you for your time

[bcdwhcre]

Could you write an scenario where Levi's S/O was tortured and now has many nightmares about it? Like... they are sleeping together and she wakes up screaming or he hears her crying asleep and cuddles her or idk... I just think is this kind of angsty fluff that I adore! Also I love your writting ♡

“PTSD,” Levi x Reader

Running out of gifs, using the same ones. Bear with me

Summary: having ptsd and Levi trying his best to comfort you.

Warnings: ptsd, torture, nightmares, abuse

Levi x Fem!Reader

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Pain was all you felt. An intense amount of pain as you were bound down to the chair and left alone with your own tears and blood. You didn’t know why, you couldn’t come up with the reason why you were down here.

Maybe it was because of your fathers crimes. Everyone hated him and before he could pay for what he did, he vanished and left that burden onto you. The people who were practically hit men used you as bait, maybe you getting beaten and tortured would have your father running to your side but little did they know that your father hated you too.

All you could hear is the laughter from the men and your screams echoing off the walls, skin being pulled off and fingernails being broken along with a few other broken bones. You were beaten senseless on a daily basis, you were sure you were going to die in that basement until somehow— you barely escaped with your life.

Your broken bones ached, your skin on fire and your body so weak but your bare feet kept running until you had ran into a MP, soon after that, everything was history. You joined the Scouts, only because you felt your whole personality change into some machine and it convinced you to join and be able to protect yourself.

Levi had seeked interest in you right away, the scars that stayed on your skin noticeable and the pain you wore- he could tell you needed some comfort and he could tell you’ve been through hell and he related to you in someway and eventually it turned into a relationship that neither of you were expecting.

It had taken weeks for him to convince you to sleep in his bed but you didn’t want to be a burden, you didn’t want to wake him from your endless amount of nightmares that replayed in your head every night but a part of you thought maybe his company can make the nightmares go away.

So there you were, laid out on his bed, wearing his shirt and a pair of sweats while his arms were lazily wrapped around your body, spooning you and burying his face in the back of your neck while breathing in your scent.

Levi was completely over the moon with you, you were someone kind and amazing inside and out but he didn’t know the true story of your scars and he didn’t pressure you. All he would do is gently trace his fingertips over the scars that stained your skin, reminding you of your worth and beauty.

You sighed as he slept behind you and you hesitated, you didn’t want to fall asleep, you didn’t want to scare him away- it already took you months for you to be comfortable with him. It took you months for you to allow him to be affectionate and touch you, you couldn’t even let him hug you or touch your hand because it made you flinch and it made you believe he was going to hit you.

But he always remained patient, he stayed with you and gave you all the love you deserved to make you feel worthy of love and affection. He stayed by you until you were comfortable enough to let him in and the day you randomly pulled him in for a hug, you startled him. He stood there, wide eyes and hesitated before his arms were securely around your body- making you feel safe.

An hour went by of you staring at his bedroom wall, hearing his soft snores and feeling his breath tickle the back of your neck before you had finally gave in and fell asleep, hoping you’ll have a happy dream for once- maybe of Levi.

But that’s not what happened.

Your dreams were always the same, the echoing of laughter and screaming as chains were yanked and a whip was slapped onto your skin. The slashes on your back open and bleeding uncontrollably. The cuts on your dirty skin had looked infected and were painful, the broken fingernails on your fingertips throbbed and made you cry for hours but your broken ribs had prevented you from crying for too long.

The constant fear you felt, the look on the older mans face as he enjoyed torturing you and making sure you were in severe pain. You’ve even pleaded with them a few times for them to end your life and kill you. One man stared at you, laughing while pressing a knife to your neck and split some of your skin open as your blood leaked onto the blade.

“Hm, not yet sweetheart, I’m not done with you.” He licked his lips as he stared down at you and it just made you feel disgusting.

One day they even tried to touch you inappropriately, cutting your shirt off but another man had stepped in and said it was going too far yet you laid there bleeding out slowly, what is too far for them?

Your body shook in your sleep, soft mumbles escaping your lips until it had woken Levi up from how much you were shaking against him. His tired eyes had moved down to look at you and stroked your hair back from your face.

“Y/N?” He mumbled, firmly grabbing onto your arm and tried to rub it to somewhat wake you up but it wasn’t working.

You were deep in your slumber, deep in your nightmare that all the pain felt completely real as it ran through your body and a startled scream had left your parted lips, frightening Levi and suddenly you shot up in bed.

Your breathing was heavy, tears had soaked your cheeks and you had forgotten about being in his room until his soft hand had reached out and rested on your back, making you flinch and startle him again.

“Hey, it’s just me.” He said quietly, his sad eyes looking into yours and that’s when you started to unravel and break down before him.

Uncontrollable sobs had left your lips, burying your face into your hands and just cried as he rubbed your back and try to be of some comfort. He wasnt all that great at it but he loved you too much to have you sitting here feeling like this.

You couldn’t handle your emotions, you were embarrassed and humiliated that he’s seen you like this, you never wanted to open that part of your past up but it was still bothering you, it was still torturing you and you just can’t seem to shake the past off.

He hesitated, watching you but his heart had broke into pieces seeing how fragile you really are beneath the tough act you pull everyday at work. He sighed, reaching over to wrap his arms around your small frame and pull you into his chest.

You continued to cry, tears sliding down and hitting his chest which made his shirt a bit wet but he didn’t mind- he was giving you time and giving you a moment to let your emotions out.

“I’m here, no one is going to lay a finger on you again, alright?” He assured you, his fingers brushing through your messy hair and you started to calm down, the feeling of his arms securely around you made you feel safe.

You sucked in a deep breath, small hiccups leaving your lips as your sad tear filled eyes stared into his and everything just felt calm again. His presence and his company just made everything a little better, made you feel like you were truly okay.

“I’m sorry.. this is why I was afraid of sleeping in your room.” You admitted, your voice shaky and he shook his head.

“Don’t be ashamed, I still have nightmares from when I was a kid too. It happens.” He mumbled, tucking your hair back behind your ear and you leaned into his soft touches.

You had sat up on the bed, a random feeling of wanting him to know everything, wanting to show him everything. Sure he’s seen the scars on your arms, legs and the small ones on your face but he’s never seen the worse of it underneath your shirt. You looked like some sick voodoo doll- full of stitches and scars.

Your small hands had gripped the edge of your shirt, his eyes watching you and once you were brave enough to lift it up over your head, leaving you in just your bra- he couldn’t hold back the sound he made as his breath hitched in his throat. He’s thought he’s seen it all, he thought he’s seen bad things but this pretty much took the win.

His eyes began to water, he was never the type to show pure emotions but when it came to you and how important you were to him, he couldn’t help the pain he felt in his empty heart. It’s like he can feel all the pain you endured all those years ago in that empty cold basement.

He took his time, leaning over and brushing his fingertips over the patches of skin and the scars that were on your back as tears streamed down his face and he shook his head, feeling angry.

“I don’t even know what to say.. I’m speechless..” He finally spoke up, lost for words as he stared at your skin and you sighed.

“You don’t have to say anything. My past is always going to haunt me and you might as well know, I don’t want to hide anything from you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him and he embraced you in another tight hug.

“You’re strong and you’re still beautiful.” He repeated, rubbing soft circles on your back and you buried your face into his shoulder, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again.

“You’re safe now.”

You couldn’t help the overwhelming pain you felt inside of your heart, it fluttered by his words but the reminder of your scars and being vulnerable enough to show him outweighed everything. You were terrified. Sure the guys who did this to you are locked away for good but you just felt scared all of the time. What if it happened again? It was constantly on your mind.

But Levi holding you in his arms as tight as he could without hurting you and the way his fingers danced on your skin to trace over your scars and remind you of his love for you, it made you feel safe. It made you fall even harder for him as you felt his lips press gentle kisses on your shoulder blade and even tilted his head to kiss your cheek.

You pulled back to look up at him in the dark, the moon shining the room bright enough to see his features and see the small smile on his face as he admired you and cupped your cheeks. It was hard for him to be this open and show this much emotion but you were worth everything to him, he risked being vulnerable and lovable for you.

“I know telling you about my past and being locked away tortured for weeks is horrible and probably made you think differently of me but..” You started to say but he was quick to cut you off.

“But nothing, why would I think differently of you? This just proves how strong I know you are. I’ll never think differently.” He mumbled, tracing his thumbs over your soft skin and your heart pounded inside of your chest.

You’ve never had someone like Levi, not one bit and having someone in front of you giving you everything you deserved and more was new but thrilling and it made you feel warm after being locked in a cold basement for what felt like years.

You were convinced after escaping that your life would never go back to normal or be normal, you never expected to find someone as loving and caring as him either but here he was, cradling you in the middle of the night making sure you felt okay and secure.

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Sorry for the lonnnnng wait. I actually enjoyed this one🥺

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

read bio before requesting pls

[rosewinelonging]

rose/roxy - bestiality, maybe with rose "encouraging" roxy to become a dog dick loving slut

tilting her glass to the side she watched the ball of ice roll around in the whiskey. it wasnt often she drank, in fact she tried to avoid it as much as possible. not because it made her do things she would never do sober rather she does what she wants. and sometimes what she wants isnt always the best option. but tonight was special.

rose turned her attention back to her daughter. they were in her office reserved for her more unique clientele. she was seated on the couch near the back wall with a small table to the side for her drinks. roxy was sitting completely naked in the middle of the room next to the table. it had restraints, straps for every part of the body, with cuffs at each end for wrists and feet. she was not on the table. instead she was on her knees, hands cuffed to the end. her arms stretched out in front though at this point shes no longer had control of her balance, the only thing keeping her upright being the straps around her wrists.  

she had offered her a pillow for her knees, the hardwood floor was not gentle on skin, but her daughter, ever the rebel, declined.

taking another sip, rose frowned. roxy was getting older, getting more independant. which was to be expected even if she struggled to wrap her head around the change. her little girl was now a blossoming young lady. it should make her happy but as the passage of time continues slow march the negatives have begun to outweigh the positives. for one, a desire of independence came a desire for exploration. roxy had begun meeting new people and while she knew she was always promiscuous rose hadnt predicted it would get this bad.

she hadnt shied away from teaching her the necessities, believing there was more benefits. and for a time it was good. she could put her to sleep easier, letting her touch herself under the covers which tired her out faster than anything she could do. buying her toys, turning a blind eye when she started fooling around with striders kid, giving her privacy. for a time it worked. until it didnt.

the first time dave brought her home she was furious. her daughter, barely 14, sneaking into a club, dressed like a whore and drunk out of her mind. roxy cried and promised shed never do it again. dave brought her back again a few weeks later.

by the third time her anger began to calm down. by the fifth she was growing worried. by the twelfth she decided she needed to act. it took a bottle of whiskey to make a plan. it took two more to get the courage needed to go through with it.

the next time dave brought her daughter back from a club she put the plan in action. it wasnt a punishment, it was a present, something to help her and discourage her from satisfying her urges anywhere other than the house. she led her to her office. roxy was drunk, no more than usual, not enough to leave her completely incoherent but her reactions were slow, she fumbled while walking. there wasnt a single protest as she stripped her clothes off. or when she tied her to the table. it wasnt till she was hooking her ankles to a spreader bar that roxys brain caught up and began to question what was going on.

which leads them to now. roxy, to her credit, got used to the dog pounding into her quite easily. the mutt leaned over her back, paws rested on her hips for grip. each thrust sent her body jerking forward, tits bouncing. she was covered in a layer of sweat, chest heaving, struggling to breath between gasps. 

she had taken careful consideration when adopting the dog, making sure he was…sizable. big enough to leave her crying but not enough to do damage. it needed to be good enough that she never wanted for anything else and from the noises she was hearing she thinks shes gotten that.

rose took a final sip before setting it on the table and standing up. as she walked her heels clicked on the floor making the dog look over curiously. roxy made no indication of awareness, head bowed to the floor.

closer now she sees the shake in roxys arms, hardly noticeable with her overall body movement, as she struggles to hold herself up. her hands balled into tight fists, pulling her full weight against the restraints. rose, now standing at her side, leans down slightly to lay a hand flat against her daughters stomach. the skin is hot, beneath her fingers the outline of the dogs dick penetrating her, rapidly moving in and out. her lithe body stretching to fit all of him inside. roxy whimpered at her touch.

she reached out, keeping her other hand pressed firmly against her stomach, and grabbed her lower face. gently she pulled her head back so roxy looked up at her. she whimpered when they made eye contact.

her daughter was, frankly, a mess. her curls were tangled, drenched in sweat, mascara smeared down her flushed cheeks, eyes red and glossy. her lips were parted, drool pooling at the corners. 

rose smiled. “hi sweetheart.”

roxy tries to respond, only managing to get a broken past her lips. she bent down, kissing her forehead. beneath her roxy trembled, seemingly trying to lift her head back higher. “m..mommy..” she paused.

leaning back she looked at her daughter and oh. something heated curls inside of her. roxy was…

“yes. mommys here and im taking care of you alright?” she spoke softly. the way roxys eyes darkened made her breath catch in her throat. then she feels her tense up, a full body shudder as her eyes grow hazy. the moment rose realizes whats happening she lowers the hand on her stomach to focus on rubbing her clit. her eyes roll back, mouth falling open wordlessly. 

shes already been through two orgasms from the dog alone and who knows how many else tonight. rose wasnt stupid she could clearly see the cum coating her thighs, leaking from her cunt, when she undressed her earlier. and she has faith dave would have the decency to make her feel good. but right now she concentrates on helping her through her next one.

“shush, youre okay baby. youre doing so good. im so proud of you darling.”

roxy cried out straining against her cuffs, the dog grew excited and began pounding harder. hard, deep thrusts before slamming inside and finally knotting. she can feel cum pouring out and down to her fingers where she hasnt let up, rubbing small, fast circles into her clit.

it takes a minute or so for the dog to finish cumming. she helps him pull out listening closely to roxys shallow breaths. she lets him go and turns back to her daughter, focusing on getting her ankles and hands untied. the moment she does so she collapses to the ground but rose is prepared, holding her by the arms to make sure she doesnt completely fall.

rose sets them both gently and roxy, using the little strength she had, practically throws herself into her lap. any other time and she would have worried about the cum that would stain and inevitably render this dress unusable but right she doesnt care. instead she holds her daughter close, feeling her bury her head in the crook of her neck.

“see?” rose cooed, rocking her softly. “you dont need to go out anymore. youll use the gift mommy gave to you, right?”

roxy nods against her throat and rose smiles.

[pjisskullourful]

yall better stop. i wasnt expecting this much bday love & holyfuck i super appreciate it. as its always been with everything i've accomplished/continue to accomplish here- the good far outweighs the bad

im very grateful

i feel like maybe i've turned a corner with covid inthat i havent felt as queasy & havent been as consistently sniffling. but still lowenergy& verrry limited motivation

my focus is kinda coming back & cos everyone was sonice& have been patient- imma share some previews. naturally im not allowed to share sneakpeeks of any of the 5commissions jace& me are cooking up, but lets see what else i've got

oh look, its the start of part14 of stainedsheets that i've started tinkering with lying inbed these past few days. & the start of a vic request-ish.... unproofread/unformatted you know the drill

vic wip: Hidden Talent

"I loved your party trick, but you have more than one hidden talent. You can offer so much more than spinning a knife around, like the sexiest assassin ever." Your girlfriend said as the two of you came into your apartment.

You had spent many hours of the night at Damiano's house, surrounded by Victoria's friends as you tried to impress them, wanting them to see you as a suitable match for her. You had just crossed an important milestone in your relationship. It had been three blissful months of calling her your girlfriend, sharing unforgettable dates, sleepless nights of making each other laugh. But now your lives were merging together - she wanted the significant people in her life to know you.

And you had survived, rising to the challenge when they had gone around the table, with each person asked to show an unexpected talent. You pulled out the switchblade that you kept in your handbag at all times, capturing her bandmates attention as you moved the knife through reverse twirls, without falter, without injury.

"What, you didn't think it was any good?" You asked. "You looked very impressed at the time."

She stood facing you in the middle of the living room, placing her hands on your hips once you were close enough. "I was, and I'm still impressed now. In fact, I'm gonna have to get you to show me again, because it's so cool, but I- I don't think you should sell yourself short, you have all of these other incredible talents."

"What should I have done?" You asked, tilting your head to one side.

"I was thinking that you would do your impression of Marge Simpson." She said with an enthusiastic smile.

You rolled your eyes but you couldn't keep yourself from returning her smile, especially when you were feeling her hands caressing your hips, beginning to edge in under your shirt. "I'm not selling myself short with that, it's a funny voice, but it's not a good impression. You just got tricked into thinking it's better than it is, 'cause the first time you heard it- we were naked. You were all happy after sex, and making you laugh, got me to laughing, which made my boobs bounce and your little perve eyes went bing, right onto them. So the memory of amusement you have, is false."

"When you say it like that- it makes it sound like I'll agree with anything you say or do, if I'm looking at your tits."

You crossed your arms over your body and grabbed for the hem of your shirt. "Are you saying that's incorrect?" You had been ready to take the shirt off during the elevator-ride up to your level - it needed to be washed, the smell of cigarette smoke seemingly strong enough to leave a tangible cloud.

But now you had the perfect excuse, reaching up to unhook your bra straight away. You took the bra away from your skin and her eyes instantly went down, taking in the sight of your bare chest with keen interest.

"What were you saying again?" You asked with a smile.

She lifted her hands to either side of your breasts, tenderly cupping you. "I'm saying that you are so smart and you're always right."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, bringing her in to kiss her. A wonderful moment of finally getting to be alone again, your hand going to her cheek as you felt her mouth relaxing open. You moved your tongue into her warm mouth, feeling her sigh happily in response.

She drew away, her eyes remaining shut as she licked her lips. "There's another one of your talents…" She peppered some kisses over your lips. "You're just the best kisser." She nudged her nose against yours and you felt your breath getting shallower as you anticipated the next kiss, lamenting every second that was wasted without her kissing you. "You do this swirling thing with your tongue that I've never had before, and fuck, baby…"

You moved back in, laying your lips upon hers again. She moved her hands to your bare back, grasping here as your tongue teased between her lips. A whimper came from her in response as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss.

Your tongue moved forward again, this time swiping at the inside of her cheek. Her hands held you tighter, her trimmed nails beginning to press against your skin. You brought your tongue over the roof of her mouth, then slid it across to the opposite cheek. Her jaw grew slack and you moved your tongue in this arch again, tasting her.

"Yeah…" She said.

"It's more of a fan than a swirl."

She bit into her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed and her eyes darker than usual. "You can call it whatever you like, it's just perfection to me. It gets me so wet."

"Really?" Your hands went to the buckle of her belt. "You wanna show me?"

"Uh-huh."

She let you undo her belt before she turned away, securing your hand in hers as she started to lead the way toward your bedroom. The two of you shed your layers of clothes, littering the floor as you went. She turned the lights on once you reached the bedroom (fucking in the dark simply wasn't an option for her, even candlelight wasn't generous enough).

As soon as your panties were off, she grabbed your hand in a firm grip and pulled, bringing you stumbling forward a handful of paces. Your heart was racing as she smiled at you, stroking along the side of your face. "Get on your back, baby. I wanna get into another of your hidden talents…"

You moved over, sitting down on the end of the bed as she went to your wardrobe, sliding the door open. Moving as comfortably as if she were in her own home, she reached up for the box on the highest shelf. Your supply of sex toys - she had added a couple of devices to this collection. She pulled the box down, instantly looking through the secret items inside.

"I have another hidden talent?" You asked.

She plucked out your vibrating wand, placing this on the bed and started looking in the box again. "You sure do, baby." You saw the straps of the harness that fit around the tops of your legs as she secured it in one hand, while moving items around with the other. "Squirting." She had picked up a dildo.

You gave an uncertain laugh, even though it didn't seem much like she was joking. "Squirting isn't a talent."

"Yeah, it is." She said, beginning to fasten the harness in place around her hips and over her naked crotch. "In fact, when you do it- it's damn near an artform."

... coming soonish maybe???

×××

Stained Sheets 14

"I just have no idea how you can watch it and not want to know what it's leading to. There's all these little hints that you aren't picking up on…"

You flung your hand up into the air in front of your boyfriend's face. "Swear to God, Damiano if you try to tell me one more fuckin' spoiler."

He grinned. "That sounds like a threat. What're you gonna do, what are you gonna do?" He was bouncing up onto the balls of his feet, all of his attention on you as he delighted in this teasing.

It was like the rest of the party had faded away and it was just the two of you joking around, playing as you would in your home. "I'm gonna write my letter of resignation from Kinky Kittens LLC."

He gasped, putting a hand to his heart. "My secretary, the best secretary I've ever known and I'm gonna lose you over spoilers from a TV show that ended more than ten years ago?"

"I don't care how long ago it ended, you asked me to watch it with you, you said it'd be a cute, fun thing for us to do together, you love when we share stuff like shows and movies, and I do too. And this is how I watch shows, baby- spoiler-free. Why can't you let me watch it my way, I'm happy this way."

It was tempting to suggest to him that you blow off the rest of this event and go back to the hotel room, where you had been continuously getting drawn into stretches of watching one episode of Lost after another. You had been stopped short of reaching the finale of season four, needing to get ready for Måneskin's appearance at another Gucci publicity event.

"Do you think that I'm not literally dying to find out what happened to Claire?"

"Oh, I know you are. You blew my hearing out when Sawyer found the baby in the jungle, but then it wasn't enough to yell, you had to throw three pillows at the TV when they didn't find her by the end of that episode."

You rolled your eyes at him, adopting a sarcastic tone. "And you're never dramatic."

"I can tell you what happens." He said. "I can even tell you how you're gonna feel."

"No. 'Cause I'm gonna feel that at an even higher degree when I'm surprised by seeing it myself." You said. "I'm serious, I'm gonna go to HR and get the resignation paperwork drawn up, I'm doing it Damiano…" You started to back away from him. "I'm doing it right now."

Before you could get too far, someone was brushing against you and your momentum was broken. You turned to where a tall, blonde woman smiled awkwardly at you, before instantly offering a wider smile to Damiano. She stepped towards him, her hand extended.

"Hi, I have been literally dying to meet you." She said - this wasn't the first time you had heard someone say something to this effect to him tonight.

Although he returned her smile, his eyes moved behind her, not wanting to lose you in this crowd of strangers. You moved to the side, her face seemed familiar, but not in a way that made you think of any names. You sipped your champagne, listening to him trading pleasantries with this woman. You guessed she was a model, as most of the people at this party were. Your eyes moved over the crowd, wondering where your friends were (Thomas was wearing a giant hat - surely, he should be easy to find), as you awaited your cue.

"Can I get a photo?" She asked.

You turned back around, smiling in a way that was similar to how you would greet clients at work. He held a hand out toward you because she didn't have an assistant or anyone with her. "Would you like for my- my girlfriend is a fantastic photographer."

You kept the eyeroll to yourself as she looked at you, a beaming smile that could probably sell a lot of products to Instagram followers. "That would be amazing."

She handed her phone to you and you held it up, as steady as possible. As you had many times tonight, you took a handful of photos, watching the immaculately-presented woman move in a little closer to him each time.

"Thank you." She said, but she didn't check these over because she didn't have any concerns of the capturing of a bad angle. "I have to say, I cannot believe that you are really out here, wearing a Vivienne Westwood necklace at a Gucci party." His hand went to the gold charm hanging at the open-collar of his shirt and she laughed. "That's gotta be against the rules, right?"

"Oh, but what do I care about rules, I'm a punk." He said. "Besides, how do you know that it's Westwood? Have you considered that this could be a brand new Gucci design and potentially you've not seen it yet?"

"Don't even try that. I am obsessed with Westwood, I know that crest as well as I know the back of my hand, okay? I have that crest tattooed right here…" The model's hands went to the bottom of her latex bandeau-style top and she peeled it up an inch or so, exposing more of her under-bust area.

You saw your boyfriend's eyes quickly dart away and he was reaching a hand out for you, which you grabbed with your own.

"Well don't tell anyone, but it's not just that I'm not wearing a Gucci necklace…" He said and you were relieved when she rolled her top back down. "I'm also not wearing Gucci cologne, she's definitely not wearing Gucci perfume either."

"Guilty." You said with a shrug.

"Wow, you know I was gonna talk to security about getting you escorted out of the party, but after that, maybe you need to be deported." She said before laughing. "It was so nice meeting you."

"Oh my God, it was amazing to meet you." He said.

You waited until the model was gone, you and your boyfriend turning back to face each other. "And who was that amazing person you just met?"

A thoughtful look came onto his face and he sucked at the inside of his cheek. "Um, she's that chick from- well, wasn't she on an episode of Drag Race, she was one of those really bland guest judges, right? Like, she said yas once and you could tell someone had told her to say it for the show 'cause she'd never said it before in her life."

also coming soonish- before the end of may at the very latest

[anon999999999]

A cut i made yesterday wasnt deep enough to draw blood but it left a mark and when i woke up i could still see it (that night i dreamt that i couldnt see it and it distressed me a bit) and that made me really happy i couldnt stop looking at it today

Next day edit: i did it again and it def drew blood and i feel like my heart is exploding out of my chest i feel so tired yet my leg cannot stop bouncing it was a very neutral experience because the good was very good and the bad was very bad but they outweigh each other i think ill just draw next time i want to c-t

I put a bandaid on it

[illfoandillfie]

Congrats on 1k!!Can you do a sequel to Code Red where Roger asks the reader if he can hookup with another girl (a groupie) and maybe she’s not comfortable with it but she says yes anyway because she thinks if she doesn’t he’ll cheat when she’s not there, end it however you want ❤️❤️❤️

thank you lovely! ngl this was the last fic i expected to get a request about lmao but today wasnt great so writing a bit of angst stuff was good.

Code Red

1000 Follower Celebration

~~~

In the weeks since the incident you and Roger had made more of an effort to be as honest as possible. You were wracked with guilt about what had happened, and based on how careful Roger was being around you, he was the same. It manifested in overly polite inquiries about how each other felt, about everything from what happened in the bedroom to what you had for dinner. He’d taken to triple checking you were okay with every small decision, and you’d followed his example until all you seemed to ask each other was are you sure? and do you mean it? It wasn’t bad exactly; it was well intended and obviously meant he cared about you and was worried about hurting you, but there was no denying how exhausting it was. You were sure Roger was just as fed up with the whole thing as you were, quicker to get short with you, more likely to come to bed after you were asleep or stay out of the house for as long as possible when you were home. He maintained it was just that he was exhausted from prepping for the new tour – meetings with the others to discuss set lists and which theatrics would be brought out – but you were sure that couldn’t be the only reason. So you were more than a little surprised when he came home early one Saturday, dropping onto the couch beside you and patting his lap like he used to when he wanted you to snuggle up with him. 

“Really?” 

“Only if you want to,” there was that tone again, like he was trying to keep himself from saying more. 

“Of course I want to Rog, been so long since I saw you properly or for long enough to cuddle.” You quickly shuffled closer, leaning your head against his chest as he dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know love, I’m sorry. Things have just been so crazy with he tour and stuff, but I’m here now. Tell me what’s been going on lately, how was work?”

Your innocent conversation soon turned a little more risqué. Between the days of barely seeing each other and the forced politeness of your interactions when you were actually able to be together, both of you were left feeling playful and more than a little flirty. Before you knew it you were sitting across Roger’s lap, his fingers dancing over your leg as he told you about a wet dream he’d had a few nights previous. “So there I was, a hand in your hair and a hand in hers while both of you slobbered over my cock,”

You gave him a light slap on the arm at his word choice.

“Anyway, thats when I woke up.” 

“God,” you laughed, “I swear I’ve never had a dream like that, although I’ve never actually remembered a dream. How the fuck did you manage it?” It felt nice to be back like this with Roger, back to feeling comfortable and not like you were walking on eggshells.

“I don’t know where it came from,” 

“You think about threesomes much?” 

“A bit I guess, probably not much more than the average person though. Why, love? You suggesting something?” he cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“Well, threesomes have never been high on my list but I wouldn’t rule them out entirely. Definitely something intriguing about them. But we’d have to find someone else if that was going to happen… one of the boys maybe?”

“And here I was thinking we were going to invite a second girl,”

 “I’m not opposed to it but I don’t know any girls who’d be up for it so unless you’ve got someone in mind…” 

“Hmmm no one specific,” 

There was something off about his tone that made your chest tighten with worry, “is there anyone else youd want to sleep with?” you tried to play it off as a joke in the hopes that you could keep up the lighthearted connection you’d so missed, “Just so we can give this mysterious other woman a better identity, maybe inspire a dream or two of my own.” 

“One or two, Jane Fonda for instance.” 

“People on your free pass list don’t count Rog, I already know about them.” 

He paused, “honestly?” 

The word made you tense up almost instantly, “That’s what we’ve agreed,” 

“Yes,” he at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable with his admission.

“Who?” neither of you were laughing any more, all the tension from the previous weeks was back in full force, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“No one really, theres just this bird who’s followed us on the last couple of tours Very flirty, cute.” 

“And ummm, would you? Sleep with her, I mean, if you had the chance?” 

“I’ve had the chance, love. More than once she’s tried to get into my pants. I think she’s trying to do the whole groupie thing. Pretty sure Brian’s had her, or maybe it was Deaky, I don’t remember. She’s made it pretty clear she wants me though and, if I’m being honest, I haven’t done anything yet but it’s a little tempting.” 

The yet cut through you like a knife, “Is this you asking for permission?” 

“No… Maybe,” 

“If I said I was okay with it, would you do it?” 

“Maybe?”

“Rog,” you pushed yourself away from him, standing up and folding your arms over your chest. 

Roger leaned forward, imitating your closed off body language, “I know it’s not fair of me to ask that of you or, fuck, for me to even have told you any of it. But things have been so hard between us lately. Every time we’re together I remember what it felt like when you passed out and went limp. Every time we get close to having sex I worry about fucking up again and hurting you. But she’s easy, in every sense of the word. I could just sleep with her and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I wouldn’t feel like I had to be on constant guard with her in case she’s not telling me the truth about how she was doing. I wouldn’t feel like I had to triple check what she wanted. It’d be so fucking simple.” He sighed and dragged his hands over his face, “just forget it, Y/N. Forget I mentioned it,”

“How can you expect me to forget it?” 

“I shouldn’t have said anything, it was just another of my fuck ups,” 

“Oh goddamn it Roger!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in frustration, “I know you feel bad about…what happened, so do I. I mean, Jesus, you think I haven’t noticed the tension too? You think I’m not constantly worried that I’m not being clear enough about fucking everything? I know that the incident fucking sucked and I know it scared you and I know I should have done better and I’m trying Roger, I promise I’m trying. But the constant questioning and apologising are just making it harder. It makes me feel like I’m not good enough, that I’m doing it wrong. I feel like I’m losing you and I don’t know how to stop it.” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying more. Maybe you’d fucked up again too. Maybe this would just confirm for him that you were a crazy bitch and send him into her arms instead. “But it’s fine. You know what, this might actually be good. Go and sleep with her and maybe it’ll help us sort all this out. Maybe you just need a reminder of what its like to be with someone you can trust. Just promise you’ll use protection and think of me.” You turned and walked away but Roger caught you before you’d even crossed the room.

“Y/N, wait,”

You stared at him, trying to keep the anger outweighing the worry but it was impossible under his gaze, “Please don’t. Please don’t sleep with her. I know things have been hard lately but I love you and the thought of you being with someone else…it’d tear me apart.” 

Roger pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, “I won’t. Of course I won’t. Couldn’t have even if you had been okay with it.” 

“Promise?” the worry that you might have just hammered the last nail in your relationship’s coffin, driven him to cheat on you, was all you could think about.

“Y/N,” he leant back and placed his hand on your cheek, locking his eyes on yours, “I am being completely honest when I say this. I love you and I would never cheat on you. With her or anyone else. We’ll get through this, I promise. You’re all I need.”

Taglist since this is a follow up to an actual fic:  @laedymoon​​​​  @dtfrogertaylor​​​​   @ezmina98​​​​  @vee-ndetta​​​​ @atomic-watermelon​​​​ @kellypenac​​​​ @labessieisallama​​​​ @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr​​​​ @drowseoftaylor​​​​  @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely

[airum2610]

GRE.ED - 1 - Terminal Timer

1 - Terminal Timer

According to Google, there was no easy was to die, and any and all romanticized stories about dying peacefully were grossly and willfully wrong and very misleading.  

Sticking a fork into an electrical outlet would hurt, yes, but it wouldn’t kill you – neither would a close quarter meet and greet with one of those gel packets that say “don’t eat” or a fall from a three story house.

It was nearly disappointing how little options there were to peacefully die nowadays.

Even more so when one was faced with the diagnosis of terminal cancer and the only choice that was left, was on how much and how long he was going to suffer until he died.

It was unfair.

Gabriel Clayton Beauregard had nothing in life to be happy about. He was not particularly talented at anything, not particularly sociable or well liked, most definitely not attractive and most importantly; he was still a virgin.

A terminal one.

So when a chance to change all of that presented itself, he had taken it. Without a second thought.

In hindsight, not the smartest idea. Or even a good one if one took human decency and morals into account. Luckily, when it had came to that point Gabriel had already lost any and all interest in human decency and their lack of helpful morals, and instead focused on surviving the shit he had gotten himself into.

So, Cancer wasn't the only killer he had gotten to look into the eyes. But it was definitely the uglier one.

So really, nobody could be mad at his lack of self-preservation when instead of the hard asphalt stone in front of the Hospital, he landed face first on a too tall, too handsome, real-life demon.

Or maybe they could. If they had cared.

“What a passionate greeting.” The man had said. And Gabriel had just stared.

Because he the man hadn't looked like someone that should exist on the same plane as him, nor in or even near such a shabby charity Hospital, and most definitely not under Gabriel.

Which was weird in itself because he had fallen more than those non-lethal three stories, which meant he should have been splattered across the hospital parking-lot and not on top of a man.

“My name is Rama.” He had said as Gabriel had scrambled on his feet. He was patting his dark pants as if there was dirt on them even when there wasnt. “And you are?”

“Gabriel.”  When the raise of a dark colored eyebrow was all he received in return he added, “Gabriel Beauregard.”

“Is that your full name?” The man was distracting. In a how-could-this-good looking-people-actually-exist sort of way that was terribly clear in his broad shoulders, tall frame and the jawline that looked as if it would give him a paper-cut if he as much as looked at it too much. All in all. Very distracting.

“No.” He had replied like an idiot. But like an even worse idiot he had added. “It´s Gabriel Clayton Beauregard.”

“Lovely to meet your acquaintance, Gabriel. “ His voice sounded triumphant without a hint of pretend to try and hide it. Only at that point Gabriel hadn't known just what he had been triumphant about. Or why.

In hindsight to that too, he wished his Nonny - bless her still living soul - had taught him less about stranger danger (useless when your face was enough to keep them away) and more about not telling strangers your actual full name.

Really, he wasn't sure why he had answered the mans questions instead of wondering how both of them had survived the fall/landing unscathed, but maybe it had to do with the unnervingly calm smugness that seemed to wrap around him or the fact that nobody that attractive had even looked in his direction before. So he couldn't help it.

When he had become distracted by the aching stomachache that had send him to the hospital in the first place, the stranger had gotten his attention right back by continuing his introduction.

“I am a demon, Gabriel.” He had said that with an accent, like his voice couldn't quiet decide how to speak but it only managed to make him more attractive - at that point Gabriel had also wondered how much he could compliment a guy in his own mind before he wasn't straight anymore. He was sure there was a limit. Of course, even with his devilish attractive voice, Gabriel hadn't actually believed him.

But -

“And I am here to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?”

“A deal. Two of your desires for one curse of my choice. A rather gracious deal if I may say so myself, especially in your situation.”

He had been right of course. Gabriel had clearly been desperate enough to escape his fate to jump down a who-knows-how-many-stories building to try and kill himself, so really, any kind of deal that kept him alive could count as generous.

And maybe he had also thought that two desires heavily outweighed any curse, no matter what it would be. Two good were always stronger than one bad, or so he had thought.

So while he had still not believed him, Rama, he had considered his options.

“What do you desire? Money? Its one of humanities standards I hear - or maybe fortune? Another classic.” He leaned in close enough for his much too straight nose, that looked like it had absolutely never had a pimple before unlike his own, touched his own. “Or maybe, longevity to combat that ugly time bomb inside of you? Hm?”

Gabriel had forgotten to breath for a moment there. Both because the man, demon, Rama, had been too close and because a sudden hint of insanity let his mind decide on following the action connected to  ´what the hell, lets do it! I´ve got nothing to lose´. Which was right. But still stupid in hindsight.

“Yes. I would like that. Longevity I mean. Not being sick. Not being in pain wouldn't hurt either.” He sounded like an idiot - worse because of a pun that sounded planned when it really hadn't been.

“The first desire. Longevity and health. But what about your second one?” He hadn't stepped back yet but he was tall enough to simply look down on him when he stood up straight. “Beauty certainly would help you.” Gabriel could have been offended but he wasn't. He had been told and bothered about his apparent unattractiveness since grade school. Honestly he agreed with them. Whatever genes his parents had given him were bad. Incredibly so. His nose was as crooked as his teeth, his skin scarred by acne that still wouldn't disappear, his proportions off and his hairline already receding at the fresh age of twenty-three. Truly, the only good thing was that he was neither fat nor too thin. Not that that would count as a redeeming feature - but hey, positivity and all that.

So yes. Beauty sounded like a great choice for his second desire. He said so to the apparent demon as well who only smiled in response.

“Longevity and beauty, a tantalizing combination. Two desires in return for one curse - do you agree?”

And he had agreed.

The smile that Rama´s lips curled into was entirely predatory but something told Gabriel that he could not take his words back.

He swallowed against the sudden bout of dread that gathered in his gut.

But by then, their deal had already become final.

[fiftyshadesgrl]

Consumed

Deans pov

I sit and pour another full glass of whiskey, downing it in two gulps. I welcomed the burn, wishing it would burn my memories away. My memory of her. My beautiful, amazing, strong, (Y/N). Its been a year and three weeks, thats 386 days i have been drowning in the pain and whiskey.

Sam walks in at that moment and sighs. I glare up at him knoeing exactly what hes thinking. Sure enough he sat down in front of me and grabbed the bottle that sat over half empty. "Dude, youre gonna have to stop this."

I growled and grabbed for the bottle but sam held it just out of my grasp. "Sam." I warned but he didnt cave. "Give it back damn it."

Sam shook his head, "this isnt helping you one bit."

"Youre right its not, cause its still in the bottle." I said grabbing the bottle from his hand catching him off guard.

He stood and ran a hand through his hair, frustration showing. "Do you think she would want you doing this to yourself?"

I laughed humorlessly, "she doesnt fucking care."

"How can you say that dean?" Sam practically yelled.

I stood up knocking the chair over behind me. "She left me sam! She walked away without even looking back, she just walked away."

Sam threw his arms up in defeat. "Can you blame her?"

"Watch it sam."

He rolled his eyes at me he knew that annoyed me when he did that. "You cheated on her dean, not once, not twice but multiple times. She watched you night after night going out alone knowing where you were going. I cant tell you the nights she would come to me crying, wondering what she was doing wrong. She tried for so long to be what you wanted but you just kept on running around with whoever was willing to climb into your car."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could feel the tears threatning to fall but i refuse to cry. I dont cry after women, but (Y/N) wasnt just any woman. Sam laid a hand on my shoulder, i didnt even know he had walked around the table.

"Youre my brother dean and i love you, i also love (Y/N) too. Seeing her in that bad of a state killed me. Do you remember when she was put in the hospital for a week?"

I thought, the alcohol making it hard to concentrate. Then the memory flooded back. She was laying in a hospital bed both her arms bandaged up, a bandage around her throat. She couldnt talk for months.

"That was the vamp nest accident wasnt it?" I asked curious where sam was going with this.

He shook his head, "thats what she told you. I told her she shouldnt hide it from you but she didnt want you to see her as weak."

"What happened then?"

Sam sighed seemingly debating on whether he should tell me or not. "One night when she tried to get your attention you left and she just broke. I was in the library researching and she walked up to me and hugged me. She told me she loved me and to make sure to tell you she loved you no matter if you loved her or not." I opened my mouth to say something but sam held up his hand. "I had a uneasy feeling when she said she was going to bed but i never thought, i didnt know she was broken that bad. I heard glass shatter and i yelled for her, she didnt answer. Her door was locked it took me a couple minutes to bust it down. I was almost to late. She broke her mirror in the bathroom slit her arms from the inside of her elbow to her wrist and she shoved a shard into her neck."

I sobered up at that, "jesus! What the fuck?" I said glaring at sam.

"She said she couldnt live without you. I rushed her to the hospital and they said another five minutes and she would have been dead." Something inside me snapped hearing that. I fell to my knees feeling like someome was constricting my airway. Sam was saying something in front of me but everything was muffled. I ran down the hall to my room, i slammed the door in sams face but he didnt try to come in. I sat on the bed and pulled out the old picture i had in my dresser drawer, it was of me and (y/n). Back when everything was good.

I loved this picture, i rememver the day and exactly where this was taken. We were on a hunt in montana, a werewolf was on a killing spree there. (Y/n) was so excited but she never asked to go. She had always wanted to go to montana, so i asked her to come along. I actually didnt even get to ask her the full question before she was jumping in my arms hugging me tightly. This picture was taken after we had ganked the bastard, i took her to a local hiking spot that overlooked the beautiful mountains and a lake.

When we finally made it to the lookout spot she pulled her phone out and took a picture of the lake. I surprised her by asking for us to take a picture together. I put my arms around her waist and right before she snapped the picture i placed a kiss right on her temple. Her smile was so beautiful, even more so than the scenery. Her smile showed love. That was a good memory, to bad i dont have more good memories to outweigh the bad.

I pulled out my cell phone and called her number, i knew she wouldnt answer it but i had to try. Just as i thought it had been disconnected or changed one of the two. I was so frustrated not at her but at myself. How could i cheat on her? How could let her go? "Sammy!" I yelled and a few seconds later he was at my door. "Do you have her phone number? Her address?"

Sam stayed silent which made me even more frustrated. "Ill take that as a yes." Standing up i picked my duffle bag up from the floor and started shoving clothes in it. "I need them both, write them down, type them in my phone i dont care. I just need them and i wont take no for an answer."

"Dean." Sam sighed but i wasnt having it.

"Now sam!" I yelled, he stood still for a minute. I almost thought he wasnt going to give them to me, but he grabbed my phone and began typing.

"If she talks to you or sees you, and thats a big if. But if she does i didnt give you this information." Sam finished typing and threw my phone down onto the bed but he remained in the doorway. Slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder i picked up my phone and shoved it into my jeans pocket.

"Thanks sammy. If you need anything." I didnt get to finish when sam nodded and wished me good luck. When i slid into the drivers side i pulled my phone out. My heart beating so hard and fast as i looked at the address and number. She only lived two towns over. I pulled baby onto the main road before i dialed her number.

"Please, please, please, please." I whispered to myself as it began to ring. It rang six times then went to voicemail, in all honesty im glad she didnt answer. I didnt leave a message either. If i had or she wouldve answered she wouldve known i was coming for her. Now i have the element of surprise, she cant run if she doesnt know im coming.

@an-unhealthy-obsession @vicmc624

@tftumblin @holylulusworld @justanotherwinchester

[docmurph12]

Ok review time. And remember, there is no war in Ba Sing Se.

My next request comes from my very good friend. The last time he and I sat down and tried to watch this was after we cleared through every episode of the animated series this movie was based on. We didnt get through ten minutes. So this was a fun, frustrating challenge. For those noticing, yes this is a retroactive review, instead of a "live" one. Reason for this is that as a fan it would be really difficult to be as objective as possible (given I already know this thing to be really bad) if I was distracted.

So what I know going in is that Shyamalan had a couple big flops and that he picked out this series to be his resurrection, thinking going the large scale epic route would be beneficial to his career. What happened was a ruthlessly infamous flop that resulted in nearly 6 years of silence, jokes, and memes prior to "Split" bringing Shyamalan back to relevance again.

First of all, this film could literally have been directed by anyone. Looking back at my review for Aladdin, I recall saying that I was shocked to find out it was directed by Guy Richey, because all of his hallmark signatures were missing. Same story here; The Last Airbender feels like a basic level cookie cutter epic filmmaking school project. Everything that makes a Shyamalan film is gone, which is crazy because the levity that makes ATLA (the acronym I'll use for the show going forward) is gone too. I have always said that as a director your job is to take what is written (which in this case was written by Shyamalan as well) and use your style to create a visual aspect that compliments the story told by the dialogue and events. Think of this writer/director relationship like one in comics between the writer and the artist. The artist is selected because stylistically he matches what is needed for the story. Great example of a good match is Sin City (picked because of loudness of its specific style). That story doesnt get told the same way or with the same impact with different color palettes, camera work, or actor direction. The Last Airbender is missing everything that gives a person a reason to select a specific director, especially one known for work in small scale supernatural thrillers.

The writing is.....super bad. There are a couple simple tools I like to use to identify if a film has scripting issues as opposed to anything else. First, is the dialogue done in a way that feels contextually natural? Do real people talk this way or is it written like shlockey, overly dramatic stage dialogue (think the Star Wars prequel trilogy)? Second, how easy is the story to follow? Are there gaping plot holes? Is it subtle with a good surprise? Does it hit you in the face with a story shovel with a handle made of heavy handed expositional dialogue?

Lastly, how hard are the actors trying to act around your script? Is it a good film where great performances outweigh poor to middling dialogue (Batman V Superman), or is it Bloodrayne? I've said enough on that, you get the point. That said, I am not sure the actors could have been saved by a better script. The cast was very poorly selected. Insensitive at worst (though I genuinely think the brown dude that insisted on the specific and coincidentally white folk he picked probably DIDN'T have a whitewashing agenda given what he said prior to release), out of touch with the source material at best, picking the virtual unknowns that he did really didnt pan out for him. The kid cast as Aang (pronounced AAng, goddamnit, not ONG, more on that later) got the role because he looks like the character, kind of, and only had a week of acting school worth of experience prior to filming the movie. Let's just say it definitely showed.

I am not sure TOTALLY crucifying the cast is entirely fair, so let's move the witch hunt to almost everything else. There is some good though, I promise so hang in there.

I really hope the editor got sent back to school. The purpose of editing is to make a cut that not only maintains but heightens interest in what you are watching. Cutting the fat in order to get to the point while not giving the movie away. Sometimes that means giving more than a 90 minute cut (which Shyamalan has taken at least partial responsibility for in this case) in order to preserve the story. There are scenes where the continuity from one cut to the next doesnt match up. Like consecutive cuts in one scene with massive distances traveled between cuts and even in at least one case a partial or complete costume change. It's extremely jarring. Something else about cuts--generally you cut to another angle or scene because the film requires you to in order to display more information that you wouldn't get in one single long cut. Usually a film has choppy cuts in it because the scene requires an character to do something the actor can't, or because the director or editor are bad at their job. The story, or sometimes in lucky cases just one scene, suffers as a result of bad or needless cuts. This is the case here. The strange thing is there are truly WONDERFUL long cuts of fight scenes that really suck you in, but the wierd juxtaposition between great non-editing and strange and bad editing really kicks you in the head. Enough on that. On to the next.

I did NOT see this movie in 3d. I understand that the conversion was really bad, but that said what I CAN speak to is the VFX. This film, with the exception of the lighting, was pretty well put together in terms of effects. There were really only a couple issues that were glaring in terms of VFX, but by and large it wasnt awful. There are definitely newer films that look worse. In standard. I dont know about 3d.

I think the thing that makes this film more frustrating than anything is that there are things about this movie I love. They are few and far between, but I really do love them. The intro was a really neat callback to the series intro to each episode. Then the movie happens. Then, the flying bison appears!! Then more movie. Then, a scene where Aang (not Awng) uses the glider in his staff. Then more movie. Then, all the practical martial arts, then, yet more movie. It's like this the entire way. Best comparison here? Green Lantern. It's like the Shyamalan said, "Hey, I like this and need a career boost.", then proceeded to cherry pick things from a beloved series and then ham and egged a movie with a confusing plot that absolutely requires you to be super familiar with the source material. There are a lot of assumptions made by characters in the movie that made sense given background provided by the show, but make absolutely none if you are going in blind. "Those are air bending tattoos, and I think he might be the avatar, despite he fact that I havent seen him bend anything and airbenders havent even been seen in over 100 years! Before my time!" Fucking come on. Throw the newcomers here a bone man.

The long story short here is I guess in spite of the casting decisions, editing, and direction, a good script could have made at least a fun movie. This movie should not have made it past script in the form we all saw it though, and it makes one wonder how much pressure was on everyone involved (almost all of it internally applied, Shyamalan did this project almost entirely on his own volition and cast a bunch of almost unknowns with the exception of maybe Cliff Curtis, so of course they said yes) to join in and take part in this without asking questions. Its upsetting to know the original showrunners were as ostracized as they were on this thing.

I dont see myself going back. Yes there were things that made me smile a little, but the film as a whole is so overwhelmingly bad in the face of those things it is just not worth it. I AM however going to go and rewatch the series with my wife and the kids for their first time, and maybe as a result of having to sit through this war crime of a film adaptation.

Final Verdict? I give it a D-. Purely out of respect for the very small handful of things I did appreciate. Next up?? The Lobster. Really looking forward to that one.

[merrilldidnothingwrong]

Everyone who says that “it’s just a game” and genuinely argues that there’s no real life effect or consequences to people holding the belief that people have the right to lock up a group of people out of hate and fear, and that this right outweighs those people’s human rights, and that even if a portion (however big or small) of the people running these prison-like institutions are openly abusing their power and sometimes this even results in the deaths of these people (1/2)

(2/2) and that none of those things are an important enough issue to shut these places down or at least make some huge changes needs to look at the news in the united states lately and also fuck off. The mages vs templars thing is just a game, but the beliefs that lead to seeing the templars as "good" or "reasonable" don't only affect a person's views on video games. People who think like this don't only think like that about fictional people. This type of thinking affects real people.

yeah like maybe when games first came out there really wasnt much decision making that had any kind of morality. my first game was super mario brothers lol like all you can do is rescue the princess

games have shifted, since i missed a bunch in the 90s and early 2000′s my first game was skyrim.  where you can go with group A or B.

i love bioware games because its for US its a game we can actually get INTO and customize it the way we want. be the hero we want, or villain. it is definitely a villain move to encourage people to be mass incarcerated. “for their own good” no its for purely selfish motives. they didnt do anything wrong they were just born with magic and to think they all deserved to be locked away and forced to fight for their own lives is ridiculous. especially when the punishments are SO severe. tranquility or death. thats it nothing else.

and youre right it definitely affects me irl too. i have a somewhat privileged life for being autistic, trans, mentally ill. theres people out there who think i deserve to be locked up just for being who i am. and anders is a kin/comfort character to me for that reason and his trauma doesn’t make him a bad person. he is one guy fighting for his life and fighting for his cause to fight oppression and incarceration. and i dont trust anybody who hates him and calls him a terrorist for that reason. its not funny when people “joke” about hurting him or make comments about killing him. i dont trust people like that, period i dont know their mindset and i don’t want to.

and i also have no tolerance for people who abuse him for shits and giggles or like ‘im coping”. no you aint. torturing already hurting and traumatized people for funsies makes you a monster. period.

your last message said youre anon bc you feel like a coward, well you’re not. ive had this blog like....... 4 years now? and only just recently felt comfortable enough to say im kin with anders and sera. and to speak up. i just wasn’t ready. but im sure you will be one day.

[whitewolfbumble]

Needed Touch (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: They needed you, and he needed you most of all. You became his addiction until it was taken away, and then you were something else to him entirely.

Anon Request: Can you do a platonic!avengers x wolf!reader, maybe a specific ship like bucky x reader would be fine as well! Since the reader can turn into a big wolf, she often cuddles with the avengers to help them relieve stress, and they all really like her, and once they sent her onto a mission something really bad happens and really angsty stuff?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Wolf!Reader

Warnings: Angst and fluff!, things get intimate for a hot minute

Word Count: About 6k

A/N: Thanks for the request darling! One of my favourite Bucky lines I’ve written is in here, and it makes me weak my dudes. Still a lil wrecked from surgery/pain meds so sorry for any typos, I’ll come back a fix this sometime

MY MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Tony had an anxiety disorder. Bruce had, let’s say, explosive anger issues. Steve struggled, however valiantly, with depression. Natasha was obsessively striving to undo a past that couldn’t be undone, losing her identity and life in the process. Thor- when he was here- was in denial of the brutal grief he had suffered. Sam had a crippling case of survivor’s guilt that would strike hard without warning and stop him dead in his tracks. That was just scratching the surface of your team members, and there were more damaged people where that came from.

And then they added Bucky. You couldn’t even begin to get into the near century of trauma there.

But at least they all had you.

However much love and loyalty there was among you, you were what was holding this team together. Mentally and emotionally they needed you as much as they needed oxygen, being the balm and breath of air to them, outweighing their combined trauma.

You were human and wolf in one, each side of you forming one whole. A mutation, curse, and gift wrapped together, much like the various parts of the others on the team. And quickly from week one you had found you belonged among them.

Maybe it was the protective wolf in you. Or the feeling of companionship you exuded with every encouraging word or soft smile. Or the loving brightly, happy feeling those around you felt when you laughed and played, young and free like those cute little puppies in those cute little videos. Or maybe it was the ferocity and barred teeth you showed on the battlefield, unwavering in your aggressive defense of your team. Or maybe it was your other ability that did it.

Whatever the combination, it had made you a perfect- and necessary- fit to this team.

Tucking back your hair, you absently brushed fingers passed your subtly pointed ears. Settling into to a grey afternoon and a cushy couch had been easy enough, with a half decent book in one hand and the other placed on Clint’s head.

He was lying down on the couch, head on a thin pillow in your lap, feeling the calm of your other distinct ability seeping into him like custard into bread pudding.

Your legs crossed, Tony pressed a pleasant pressure against your knees, his anxiety held at bay by both you and the focused energy of tinkering with a delicate piece of paper-thin metal and razor-thin wires in his hands.

The people changed, the positions changed, but the constant presence of your team- your pack- around you was constant and most welcome.

As the slow afternoon silence stretched, you flipped to the next page in your book but didn’t continue reading. Head shifting slightly you paused, brow raising up ever so little before settling back into place as you understood what your senses had zeroed in on.

“Wonder when they’ll be back,” Clint said lazily, eyes closed and breath easy in his chest.

“They just pulled up,” you said absently back, eyes back on the text in front of you.

“Hmm,” he replied. “Hope it went okay.”

“Yeah, seems like it went just fine,” you said, shrugging a little. “No blood anyway.”

But in the back of your mind and in your ears you felt a nagging. Something off. Something not exactly quite right.

The wolf in you wasn’t separate like Bruce was to the Hulk. Your appearance may shift as you directed it to something akin to a large and black apex predator, a wolf in body and eyes and fangs. But that didn’t mean you were any less you in that state. Even now, human form with only little touches of something slightly “other” marking you like your ears, you still heard and smelt and saw with the enhanced senses of the shadowy beast you formed into. Not exactly as enhanced as in your other form, but still there nonetheless.

And sitting on the couch, listening intently to the sounds of Steve and Bucky return from their mission while your eyes were down in your book, you thought you could hear someone... limping maybe? The metallic, distinct smell of blood was absent though at least. Or maybe there were just too far away for you to smell it yet.

“And how would you know that?” Clint said, stretching and leaning up a bit to lock those hazel eyes to yours.

You wiggled your nose at him from behind your novel in teasing exaggeration.

“I can smell them,” you said, though Clint well knew that by now, though he loved to hear it. He was endlessly fascinated by who you were. That or he had taken a knock to the head too many times and really was that forgetful. “Sweat and quinjet exhaust, but nothing else really.”

Sitting in wait while Clint moved off you, you heard one set of footfalls approach nearer.

Now, however terrible it sounded, you hoped it was Steve that broke his leg and had sent Bucky to find you to help him. That would make this easier.

So, so much easier.

But when the blonde walked in your lips ticked down with a bit of a frown for a split second. Steve sat down beside you, limpless stride firm and precise though clearly a bit exhausted. He grabbed your hand as he sat and the both of you broke out into a smile.

“How’s our resident second super soldier?” you asked, subtly squeezing and moving your hand in his, caressing his palms and fingers. Comfort visibly eased into the lines of his friendly face and liquid light blue eyes.

“Hurt, but not much help there,” he admitted. “Unless you want to try again…?”

“Try again” made it sound like you had only attempted to corral Bucky once to indulge in that other specific ability you had. The man was unwavering like a marble statue, though you’d find a way to whittle him down. Or maybe he would do that himself.

“You know I will, Steve,” you said, standing up with a last pat to his hand and pat to Tony’s head as you shimmied passed him. “He’s one of us, even if he doesn’t yet think it.”

Because Bucky wasn’t the only one who could be considered unwavering and stubborn.

______

The door was open slightly like he was expecting you. He always expected you because let’s face it, he was smart enough to know persistence when he saw it. They others saw it as caring, but you didn’t think Bucky was quite ready to use that word just yet.

His room was somewhat clean, low lamps on instead of the main overhead lights, exuding a softer glow and casting darker shadows. It was small and comfy and how Bucky liked it, despite those descriptors being the opposite of the man himself.

He was peeling off his thick leather coat, arriving just before you did for one glaringly obvious reason. He had been slowed down to a snail’s pace by the broken leg that had somehow managed to make his whole body scrunch up tight and coiled. It was supporting no weight as he stood, held at just slightly an odd angle. Not to mention what you knew to be a pale and pain-hardened face if he were to turn around.

You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed with a bit of a huff you weren’t sure was from sympathy or exasperation.

“I could help with that, you know,” you commented, nodding to his limp as he glanced behind his shoulder to you, though his eyes remained low and didn’t yet meet yours.

You were tired of playing this game with him, but you knew by the weary lines and stiff way Bucky held himself that he was always far more weary of it. He had the ability to end that weariness and strain, if only he would reach out and simply touch you.

“I’ll heal,” he said, short and gruff.

Not because he was mad which you knew, though a flash of something- maybe guilt- sprung up through the pained look, and he took the time and effort to swivel on his good leg to face you more.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he said, trying again and sounding a little more like himself. Seemed to take effort though. “You don’t need to keep checking on me.”

“I’ll stop checking on you,” you said. “When you stop leaving the door open for me.”

You stepped in silently under his watchful eyes, moving and sitting on the bed, back resting against the backboard. You didn’t snuggle down or sprawl out, wanting to be just a little respectful of his space you were invading, but clasped your hands in your lap and crossed your ankles neatly.

Bucky waited for a time before, with a bit of pain crumpled look on his face, turned to the bathroom and closed the door. You closed your eyes as you heard the shower, tried not to listen to him struggle and groan under his breath. When the streaming sound of the water stopped, you flicked the switch beside you and the lights went off, leaving you in semi-darkness with blinds closed tight.

The tiny amounts of grey light that came in was like that of the moon, beaming in cool and gentle. That was his kind of comfort. Bucky still enjoyed the darkness, able to move and stay shielded by the black murky shadows. To hide away from enemies and people and pain.

When he emerged from the bathroom, the light from it shone bright before he clicked it off, his frame clad in a black shirt and grey sweats turning shadowy. Though it was the afternoon, the room itself looked like it was the dead of night, with just those soft beams pooling on the ground at his feet.

“Are you going to wolf out on me?” he muttered through the space between you, though it was good-natured in tone. As much for him as for you.

You snorted quietly under your breath, a smirk on your lips.

“I’m not the Hulk, I have some control over myself.”

There was some hesitation after that from him, wavering there with weight on the one leg. It heavied the air that had been briefly lightened with jokes and teasing a second before.

You didn’t push or pry more than you already had by simply being here, but just waited. After another few moments the pain of standing seemed to outweigh the emotions keeping him from you.

Very slowly, he walked to the bed as you moved up your feet, giving him space to sit awkwardly but firmly on the edge.

He faced out for a few moments before placing his hand in the small space on the sheets between you, eyes refusing to turn to your own. Gently you placed your hand on top of his, ever so carefully entwining your fingers in with his. A minute passed before your other hand moved slowly and measuredly to the middle of his thigh and was held still.

He tensed as you did, but for much different reasons. He flinched at the contact of your fingers brushing his thigh. You at the familiar feeling of this process as it hit you, stark and bare and shook a little bit of your soul as your ability begin to work within him.

“Why do you do it?” he said quietly, face hidden in the darkness. “Why care?”

Everyone here knew what your ability was, even Bucky, though he refused to speak it.

It wasn’t healing, exactly. It was just taking the pain, giving them time to rest for their muscles to ease, for their teeth to stop grinding as they gritted through the pain. They could rest and their bodies would better heal themselves.

They sensed it when they were close to you. Felt it when they touched you. Relief and comfort and freedom from torment.

But the pain had to go somewhere. It couldn’t just evaporate and you couldn’t push it out, you could only pull it into your own body. So you took on their stabs and wounds, feeling the invisible injuries on your skin and in your muscles. At least with you, the second the connection was broken, it was gone. So you just breathed and you bore it.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Bucky,” you started softly, taking a moment as you felt like your femur was snapped in half inside your leg. “It’s not “why care”, but because I care. I know that’s foreign to you. Uncomfortable. And that’s okay for now.”

Your words were met with silence as there was no real answer for it, and none needed. It was truth and that caring he would call persistence. Because you weren’t going to let him live a pained life. Not when you could take it away from him and even if at a cost.

But for now, this was was okay. You could go one step at a time and nudge him along with you.

You stayed long beyond that, until the troubled man unclenched his muscles and his eyes drooped where he sat. Until his breathing became slow and deep and his head lulled. Until you gently laid him down when deep sleep took him over, painless and free.

_______

From there on, things started to change. Bucky had a hard time with your ability at first, clearly. He wasn’t particularly touchy or trusting to begin with, however cordial, which was pretty essential for your ability to work.

The next time it was a broken arm. How a super soldier could keep breaking bones like this, you didn’t know.

You went to his room and waited in the doorway just like before but you didn’t fully enter, leaving him alone instead. He was probably confused as he clutched his lifeless looking flesh arm, probably wondering and hoping you’d be your usual persistence self and silently insist again. But you hadn’t been.

You had gotten through a little to Bucky, even if only once. He had felt it and accepted it. Felt and accepted you, in that moment, finally. It was his turn now, to make the next step and you weren’t sure he would do it. But later that next night you heard a knock at your door.

“Can you help me?” he had asked, quietly, still holding his arm which close up looked almost shattered.

After the next mission and the next injury, he asked when you came to his room as you always did, almost steely look like he was fighting himself on saying something so vulnerable again. But the second he spoke that melted from his face, as though the words would have killed him to say but he survived, relief flooding him once uttered.

“I’m in pain, Y/N,” he had said, gruff and almost desperate. As though through all the years of pain he had reached his limit now that he knew what real comfort felt like. “Can you take it away?”

Soon enough as the weeks rolled by, he was coming to you for everything.

You expected this really, it had happened to everyone for a time.

Everyone hit a point where they clung to you at first, however subtly or not, until they realized both consciously and subconsciously that you weren’t going anywhere. That you were here to stay and this feeling was too. That you could be a reprieve to their pain and demons.

Bucky was different though. He had had no comfort, innumerable demons, and exclusively pain for much of the life he could remember. Now to be able to have physical hurts relieved and not inflicted, and with a simple touch feel comfort in his soul not anguish? It was massive for him.

He was addicted to you now. You were like the sweetest of drugs without overdose or side effects. Though you were beginning to wonder about withdrawal...

“This is really why you need me right now?” you said, in his bright bathroom on one late evening, months after that broken leg.

Bucky found quiet, intimate moments alone with you when he needed you close, always away from the eyes of the team. Pain he could admit to you now, but not them just yet, if ever.

But now whenever you walked into a room you saw the way he twitched, as though his automatic physical reaction was to reach out for you and it took his conscious mind a moment to stop himself.

But in moments alone with you he didn’t hesitate anymore. He let himself touch you and be touched, like a craving filled and peaceful contentment enjoyed.

“Yes,” he said simply, pleasant sigh on his lips as he sat on the bathtub ledge, head leaned up to you, standing in front of him. His eyes were still waters, glassy and serene, framed by those long lashes that matched his deep chestnut hair.

Your hand was placed on his neck, thumb moving across the line of his jaw. Just above your stroking was a small cut from shaving of all things, almost unnoticeable. You were surprised he had even felt himself do it.

This was a man who had been tortured. Shot. Stabbed. Forced to fight. Forced to kill. You would think one little nick would hardly be enough to call on you so late at night.

But a smug unheard purr settled somewhere in your soul, finally and truly having him trust you. The others could sit down beside you and hold your hand or give you warm smiles as your presence eased their soul. But from Bucky you had needed more. You had needed this.

And obtaining it was that same kind of hit Bucky got off of you.

“I think I’m just spoiling you now,” you smirked, his slow blink matching pace with your slow, caressing fingers.

“Then please keep spoiling me,” he whispered, leaning into you.

He rested his head on your stomach, nose and breath and lips pushing gently into the thin fabric draping your soft skin.

Steve had always ran hot, made into a super soldier in the warm New York summer heat. Bucky you thought was always deliciously cool, like the chill of Russian snow where he was made, clinging to him still. It reminded you of clean ice, fragrant pines, and a cloudless moon.

You could feel it all on his breath now, the cool air he sighed into your stomach making your skin tingle underneath. Without thinking your hands found their way into his hair, moving through the thick chestnut strands. Absently his hands moved up your calves to behind your thighs, hooking you lightly into him.

A slow sigh released from him into you, and you slipped one hand under shirt collar at the base of his neck, hand and nails lightly trailing down his spine. He clung to you all the more, a groan caught in his throat as you felt the delicate quiver of his skin under your fingertips. An arm wrapped around the small of your back, the other at the top of your thigh, constricting and binding you in.

You and he practically hummed in sheer contentment at this connection, a shivering pleasure between you both. Countless minutes rolled by, and also no time at all it seemed.

It was only when you pulled away that you saw his blissed and beautiful face, his hand moving up and bunching his shirt above his heart as he stared back at you. Those serene eyes were bright now, with a bright and beautiful smile to match.

“G’night Buck,” you murmured as you stepped back, voice with a bit of a wobble.

You turned, a little off kilter and touched down on the bathroom counter to steady yourself. As you walked out you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror above the sink, eyes half-lidded, a lopsided smile on your face. And it wasn’t from sleep-drunkenness.

It was from comfort.

It was from him.

“Then please keep spoiling me.”

The words ran in your mind like cool water lapping at a shore or warm fingertips trancing delicate lines on soft skin. That was what you dream of that night. It was only when you woke up, room filled with darkness and that comforting feeling gone did you respond to them.

Okay, you thought in silent response, I’ll keep spoiling you.

_______

“Good, we’re just about to start the new mission briefing,” Clint said to you as you walked into the small group by the couches.

When you entered the lounge the next day, several of the team had already gathered.

You expected that telltale flinch from Bucky where he said, wanting but stopping himself from reaching out to you. You had wondered after the closeness of last night if it would be worse. If your junkie would be craving you all the more now.

But he didn’t. He saw you, blue eyes behind brown hair sitting to himself on the side. But didn’t acknowledge you beyond those glassy ocean eyes connecting to yours. Not a flinch. Not a hello. Not a nod.

A frown fell on your face as your heart fell in your chest, and head filled with confusion.

Had last night gone too far? Should you have stopped it?

Well the answer to both of those was probably yes, but he had wanted it and you had wanted to give it, so why would have have been bad?

“We’re moving in on the Serpent Society tonight,” Steve said, looking out to everyone.

You achingly turned from Bucky, a shame and heat on your face now, looking instead to Rogers. Your eyes were intense and trying to hide it, focused on the blonde before you, but you weren’t seeing him.

You weren’t hearing the shuffles or sways of the team as they listened into the briefing. Didn’t smell the gunpowder coming off of Natasha, the steaming coffee in Tony’s novelty mug, or the clean crisp lemon of the freshly scrubbed floor. You didn’t notice anything outside of your focus: Bucky Barnes.

Steve talked on, background noise to you as you focused your senses to a sharp, steel point. Your body altered in response, the wolf in you showing in slight form little by little as you balanced walking the lines to stay on the right side of human-looking so as not to give yourself away.

A golden hue to your eyes began to shine, that liquid gold bright and deep. Nails grew and pointed, turning ever so like claws. You could hear and feel your body change just enough for your sense to enhance enough to zero in on the man you held last night. The one who had held you.

Then you heard it, a deep bass sound vibrating in your ear. A beating, low and rhythmic and pulsing.

A heartbeat, sped up and beating loud. In that moment you heard nothing else.

But you couldn’t feel eyes on you so you cleared your throat, and Bucky flinched, eyes snapping to you as you kept yours dead ahead on Steve, looking down and slightly away to hide the telltale glimmers of the something “other” always under your skin that was starting to show.

The moment his eyes were on you, the sound of his blood pumping and heart beating became thunderous, like the pounding beat of the drum. You heard him swallow, could almost hear his skin tighten, and lungs expand and deflate at a rapid speed.

All because he was looking at you.

You could feel his eyes detached from you, reluctant and pained like dropping a weapon in a fight. His breathing rightened, muscles unclenched just a touch in his shoulders, That modicum of calm was shot to hell when Steve spoke.

“Y/N,” he said, the shift in Bucky palpable to you, practically make you clenched your own muscles. “You’ll be on the west side with Bucky and Clint. They’ll sharp shoot if needed, you’ll watch their backs.”

At your name Bucky’s eyes were transfixed again, thunderclap heart beats almost filling the room and drowning out the sound of the others. You felt him swallow again, heard the creak of his chair as his hands gripped it tighter, felt the heat radiating off him like a heavy summer sun.

All because he heard your name.

You turned and left immediately once the briefing was over, under the excuse of prepping for tonight, but once out in the hall you rested against the cool wall. Again you eyes glinted gold, sense focused on the man inside that room.

He had walked closer to the door- perhaps following after you?- but had stopped. You heard a sigh, the wisps of fingers through chestnut hair as he stood on the spot, stopped by some thought or feeling.

You could hear the downturn to his voice as he answered a question, hear the shuffle of his feet where he stood. You could almost see his expression now, a miserable look, one trying to hide under a blank stare.

You walked down the hall, for the first time not knowing exactly what to do with feelings someone had about you.

This wasn’t about seeking your touch for ease. This wasn’t about comfort or calm. It wasn’t about a physical reaction to you at all, this was about you.

You could sense it, feel it, hear it, see it.

Bucky had feelings for you.

_______

“Are you going to stay like that the whole night?” Bucky said, peering to his side.

The woods were quiet, and most likely through decades of practice, Bucky’s voice lowered and morphed into a tone and volume that matched his surroundings. The forest was old and dark, with near-black greens from the tree mixing with near-black ground and sky.

In this space both you and he found the familiar darkness reassuring, both battle tested and trained to the bone on nights just like these ones.

Right now this wasn’t training, but a mission. You were a sentry and guard for Bucky and Clint, either positioned a distance apart with a gun or arrow pointed towards their targets base.

Bucky had found a bit of a cliff to set up on, body on the ground with sniper rifle pointed diligently and ready.

“Not that I don’t like it,” he continued quietly. “But I did want to talk with you.”

You made no movement or even acknowledgement that you heard him, though there was no way you wouldn’t have.

Tonight you were the wolf in full form, changing into a black beast of the night as soon as was possible. The rest of the Team had barely stepped off the quinjet when you were feet into the woods, shifting with ease like the shedding of clothes.

Black fur, long and silken, lined your frame and blended like a shadow into the half mooned night. Only golden, glowing eyes could be seen now, some feet away from Bucky, half watching his back and half watching for an enemy to emerge.

“I had the distinct impression…” he started after a minute of silence followed, pausing briefly before continuing, turning from his position to look behind himself at you. “That you ran from me this morning, and have been avoiding me since.”

The shift was silent, the darkness still hiding you. A human form, still hidden, save those golden eyes, was your form to answer him. Claws were still out and extended, ears at a point, senses picking up everything.

“What makes you think that?” you said, low and quieter than the wind.

Bucky’s jerked back to you in surprise, trying to find your golden eyes in the black.

“Well, usually you at least acknowledge me.” At that your eyes narrowed a little, and he caught their gleam.

Was he upset like you had been that he didn’t even say a simple hello or give a nod to you this morning? Not communicating had not been you forte, as guards tended to come down around you, making speaking and opening up easier. So this may was just a small thing, but it didn’t feel like it. And that explanation didn’t seem like it was the whole picture…

Bucky’s finger went to his ear piece as he stood, eyes locked on yours. “Clint, I’m moving positions. I won’t have eyes on this for minute. Will confirm when I’m back in ready position.”

“I’m not… I know when…” Your sigh came out almost as a hiss, struggling with the words. You focused back up at him, his shadowy frame in the darkness just an arm’s length away. “I’m not exactly clueless about what… feelings and attraction are. I can sense when someone has them for someone else.”

“And?” Bucky said. You went sure if he said that cluelessly or brazenly.

“And,” you said, quiet and firm. “You have feelings for me. I felt it this morning- I feel it now as you look at me- your heart catching and beating like thunder in your chest when you hear me or sense me. Your breath quickens, your skin flushes, you can’t stop blinking, you can’t help but move to get closer to me… I can practically smell the rush or hormones and chemicals racing through you when I’m close. It’s- it’s overwhelming.”

“You can sense all of that?” he said, before stepping closer. “What about now?”

You swallowed, brows pulling together, confused. “I… well, yes.”

“And now?” he asked softly, taking another step. This time it set his body right against you, his framed pressed to yours.

You had touched him before. Held him. Felt his skin to yours in quiet moments together. But this was much different.

You didn’t respond, just watched with throat tight and eyes wide as Bucky gazed down, nose brushing ever so lightly against yours. You felt his hand move up, slowly and deliberately up your arm, across your shoulder until it rest on the pulse point just under your jaw.

“Your heart’s racing too,” he whispered, fingertips pressing into your skin.

Silently he dragged them down, slow and smooth, stopping in the middle of you chest.

“And so is your breath,” he whispered.

You almost had a mind to huff and roll your eyes at him, your once distant Bucky long gone. But that reaction was quite lost to the one that was overwhelming you. It burned and tingled you skin and in your soul, it poured out of you in hot breaths and every pounding heartbeat, it rattled your soul as much as his touch did to you now.

Moving back up, his hand held your face, feeling the heat there that was threatening to boil you over now. 

“Your skin is flushed too,” he said, voice smooth and soft compared to the intensity of those blue eyes he had.

“You can stop there,” you managed to say, not exceptionally wanting him to go through the rest of the checklist.

A small smile escaped from him then, forehead leaning down to yours. You closed your eyes as he did, soaking in the feeling of him and the smell of him which somehow seemed more intoxicating than you remembered.

“So what if I have feelings for you,” he said eventually, so whisper quiet you could have dreamt it. “You have feelings for me too, Y/N.”

You could have said this wasn’t real, that this was Bucky just being addicted to a comfort he was deprived of. But someone like Bucky wouldn’t admit to feelings unless they were real.

You could have said you were just reacting to someone being this close or happy with how much he was opening to you, and accidently maybe took things too far. But that also wasn’t true.

All you could do was nod your head up in agreement, your lips brushing delicately against his as you did so. You heard almost a sighing growl as you did, and before you could decide if it was coming for you or him, his lips connect with yours.

In that dark woods you were sure the spark that erupted inside you at his kiss could have been seen for miles. It was like a slow burning fire, bright and intense and eternally warm. The pressure and feel of him against you, his lips moving and sealing against yours heating your soul enough for this lifetime and the next. It was a bliss and comfort you had not yet known in another person and it made you see stars that his connection to you conjured up.

“I’m spotting movement, north west of my position.” The voice over your comm came, breaking the two of you part if only your lips. “Y/N, is that you?”

“No,” you said, sounding as breathless as you felt and hoped Clint would chalk it up to trying to be quiet. Your eyes remained on Bucky though, seeing the same burning fire and pleasant heat in his blue eyes that you felt. “But I’ll check it out.”

Wordlessly you broke away, the cold air seeping across your body where Bucky had just been. But the cold couldn’t penetrate into your soul. That remained a cozy, toasty wash of heat. Taking several steps back, you kept your eyes on him until it was time to go. He gave you a nod by way of goodbye, unable to keep the lightest of smiles on his lips. You reciprocated it quickly before you were off.

You vanished into the dark in a shadowy blur, the change from human to wolf happening in less than it took to take a step. A moment after, you were running.

The pines and trunks of tree whooshed passed you, your paws hitting ground for only the briefest of touches before bounding for the next step. You wove and maneuvered through the forest as though you had made this trek a thousand times, your senses focused and guiding you to where you needed to go.

But a gun shot in the dark, far away from where Bucky was or where Clint should be stopped you mid-sprint. Claws dug into the ground, trying desperately to slow yourself down, until slamming side first into a tree did the job, bruising ribs and jostling your head as pine needles fell down around you.

Ignoring the shots of pain and careening to your right, you took off again, paws stumbling to get traction for several paces until you were back up to speed.

Voices rang out in the comms, all teams checking it. They came concerned, questioning, all converging on the various shots they heard around their respective positions.

You heard it first. It was a snap and then scream that turned to a thunderous roar.

You could feel it in the ground, feel the vibrations in the air. Bruce was gone, and the Hulk had come out. In the distance that roar sounded again, furious and unhinged.

“Pull back!” Steve said in the comm. “No one move towards the gunfire!”

But it was too late.

You didn’t have time to slow down before you heard that snap again, this time at your own feet.

It was like a crack of metallic lightning, and you felt the exploding of your eardrums before you felt the exploding of anguish. The sudden assault stopped you dead again, sending your body rolling and tumbling out of control through the woods then down a short hill.

You slid to a stop on your side, unable to speak or move or scream. Wrapped from your stomach up to your back was a metal set of jaws, like a lethal bear trap with jagged, biting teeth as wide as you palm and as sharp as you teeth. The death trap practically encircled around your whole body.

The pain doubled, then doubled again, poisoned tips of the metal releasing into your bloodstream. That was when you shrieked louder and more torment-laced than you had ever heard. Unable with this trap around you to change back into your human form, the shriek came out as a howl, reverberating through the air loud, unbridled, and broken beyond what you thought you could stand.

The pieces stabbing into you made you howl til you felt you felt you could no longer survive it, the poison made you convulse until you thought every venom-burned piece of you would melt away, the anguish of it was beyond your capacity to understand or function.

But then you felt steps moving closer to you. You heard voices. And why set a trap if you weren’t going to come back for your prey?

Your eyes glowed bright, edged on by the pain and fighting instinct. Your jaw snapped and growled mingled into your whimpers and howls, a pitiful warning at best.

You heard voices you thought you knew, but you couldn’t make them out enough above your own pain. It overtook everything. You thought you saw through the blinding haze of torment a hand reach towards you in the darkness, a slow and soft thing, trying to reach out to you and connect. Maybe to help and comfort, or maybe to hurt you all the more.

Instantly a feral part of you lashed out in ferocity, trying with mad snaps of your brutally strong jaw and sharpened fangs to cut off the hand offering you the unknown. The basic, primal part of you needed to keep hands and touches away from you, terrified and railing against any more danger.

There would be no comfort from someone else, even through your pain you wouldn’t allow it.

But at some point sharp stabs took your breath away yet again before you felt a telltale sign of release. Someway and somehow once you were released, you were like a bat out of hell, running under some hell-driven necessity to try and out run this all-encompassing anguish.

It clung to you as you went. The faster your tormented steps went, the even worse it became. Eventually you were breathless, whimpering and howling all over again, collapsing onto the ground in a blacken, blood-matted mess on the ground.

Digging claws into the ground you tried to move forward, tried to get more distance between you and pain, but you just couldn’t. You whimpered and begged for the pain to end, but it didn’t. Relief didn’t come until the pain overwhelmed every single ounce of your body and soul, and unconsciousness overtook you.

_______

That primal part of you, that frantic and brutal part of your mind that refused to let in any possibility of danger, clung to you like a vice. It gripped you as fast and unrelenting as the pain that would not leave your body.

“Y/N, please,” Tony pleaded, coming up from behind Bruce, one of several in audience on the other side of the glass from you. “Let us help you.”

But you could still feel it. Even curled up on the floor in a small med bay room, you couldn’t escape it.

The feel of metal locking you in, poisoning your body and mind, stabbing so deep into you that it felt like it split you apart. It left you open and exposed and vulnerable, the jaws of the trap sinking down into intimate places that should never have been touched.

You had the feeling of waking up on the quinjet, restrained and furious and unable to fight it. You were locked down and unable to move or run. You were powerless to know what was happening, too out of your mind to put anything together. All you felt was pain and voices and hands touching you, digging into the intimate places all over again.

You felt it when they tried to get you to shift back to human form at the med bay, hands and metal holding you down while you struggled. You felt pressure on your open, bleeding body, hurting you all over again in attempts to heal you. But you didn’t know healing or rational thought, the poison and your instincts taking over and blaring a red alarm of warning and danger and the need to get away.

You felt trapped. You felt locked in. You felt any touch, any subtle brush of feel against your skin would snap and instead you would feel the cutting, stabbing pain all over again.

Your breath came short and hard and shallow, trying desperately to get in enough oxygen to push out the pain, but it never did. You heart still raced, your blood still boiled under your skin, sweat dripping down it. Your claws, fully extended in your human form, matched your sharp teeth, with golden eyes swirled with blood red now.

Those eyes saw through the glass, protecting the others from you and you from escaping. You saw the massive needle with unknown liquid in Bruce’s hand, the braces and shackles in Steve’s hand, Tony suited up in his Iron Man suit. The pleading in their eyes you didn’t see. The pain in their eyes you couldn’t acknowledge.

You used to notice it before. You used to hold their hand when they looked like that. You used to comfort them.

When the door open your body shook with the simultaneous need to break free from this room and them, and recoiling back at the presence of someone approaching.

It was Bucky, hands up, feigning calm and submission, edging closer. He squatted down a few feet from the door while you growled and strained, claws shrieking out a high pitched sound as they scratched along the tile.

“You’re in pain, Y/N,” he whispered to you. “Let me help you… Please.”

There was second of giving in. A second where you would have agreed. But the pain inside you reared its head again, sending out shooting pains that spanned your whole body. Your eyes went red and deadly, snarling at the man.

“No,” you snarled, this time finding your voice, low and venomous, before the pain threatening to pull you into unconsciousness again. “I’m the family pet… and you should... you should just put me down like one.”

You felt the tears falling and the shaking sprouting out from somewhere deep, taking over you. You breathed faster as snarls turned to sobs, feeling him move closer. The darkness creeping on the edge of your vision kept you from moving or fighting him back.

You could feel him beside you, body so close he was almost pressed up against you. But before unconsciousness took you, all he did was place one hand over yours, and the other on your knee.

When you woke, it was more of the same torment.

And again, after that.

Soon you were functioning, but only just. The pain wouldn’t release you, not fully and perhaps not ever. You cringed when people came close. You yelled and snapped at them, you screamed for death sometimes and space from all of them other times.

The whole team was at a loss without you really, giving you the space you snarled and demanded out of pain.

Tony had more panic attacks. Bruce had a harder time reigning in the Hulk. Steve smiled less and frowned more. Natasha threw herself into more missions. Thor plastered on a fake smile and talked as though everything was fine. Sam was more withdrawn.

But Bucky stayed with you.

Once you were on the bathroom floor, claws scratching the side of the bathtub and teeth sunk into your lip to keep from screaming in pain. Bucky found you though, arms wrapping around you as you were hunched and crumpled. You fought him for a moment, struggling and twisting with your tears splashing over the bathroom floor and walls at the effort. But soon enough you gave into him and his gentle touch. In that moment he held you together while you broke apart.

Sometimes he couldn’t though. Sometimes you pushed him away, yelling at him and shutting him out, pain lashing bitingly and bitterly against every cell in you.

But you always left your door open. And he always came back.

To place a hand on yours. To whisper something soft and gentle in your ear. To gather you up off the ground and hold you close. To ease your trauma bit by bit in hopes it would eventually dissipate, just as you had once eased his.

_______

A/N: So if that ended too angsty for you, just reread the “Then keep spoiling me” part up until they kiss then just stop there lol. Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know??

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[raineedays]

Disgusting. When the news first broke about the horrific bloodshed in my sister city, the city I live 20 minutes from, the city I spend my weekend in, the city we all consider a laet of our own, the first post I saw was littered with racist little comments about how this was an example about how dangerous the border is. A certain white woman even had the absolute fucking gall to say its was a long time comming because it was a terrorist breeding ground. Yeah. Im fucking dumbfounded too. I have no idea why a 40 year old white mom from the mid west was one of the first to comment hatred on a post about a massacre in the south. I just dont know how fucking anyone could say what she said.

Right now the good comments outweigh the bad. And she got her stupid ass chewed out. But in those first minutes people were already hopping in excitment to blame everyone and everything except the monster who did this and its so fucking gross.

El Paso is one of the safest cities in our country. Its location has never been a problem. The people here have never been a problem. People from El Paso and from mexico have never been a problem. The news and police are doing an excellent job of keeping this sickos face off the net as much as they can. But I saw his evil little face in the back of that cop car. And this little bastard was a white american terrorist. Not a refugee or an immigrant. Not a lone wolf. Not a misguided youth. He was a racist little white terrorist who drove miles and miles to slaughter dozens of people. A white terrorist who targeted el paso and its children, adults and elderly. A white terrorist who shot 2 year olds and 80 year olds.

This isnt El Paso's fault. Its not mexicos fault. This isnt a border issue. This isnt a mental illness issue. This isnt a random act of violence. This is another case in a long long line of white men slaughtering innocent people, brown people, because our nation encourages them to do so.

El paso has always been safe as it is. Border and all. And it wasnt brown people or immigrants or refugees who spilt her blood. A white man did this. A white man came to our border to kill us. Just like fucking always.

El paso is doing an amazing job at regrouping. So lets not fucking shame her and her people by coddling the terrorist that hurt her. Enough os enough. We arent the problem. Mental illness isn't the problem. The border isn't the problem. Its entitlement and leniency towards the hatred of minorities thats the problem. Dont even fuxking insinuate otherwise.