#Ive had this idea kicking around my notes for a while so i thought this was the perfect excuse to write it :)
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Hallow'seams
A Seams Halloween special oneshot
{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }
Rating: A spicy T
Summary: Joel proves to you that he can be adventurous if he wants to be.
Warnings: Joel wears a slutty Halloween costume, fluff, mentions of drinking, spicy thoughts but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N
Word count: 1.7k
Notes: I was so looking forward to writing this Seams Halloween special that I floated back in the summer. Unfortunately, life™ happened - I've had a very rough month and honestly I didn't think I had it in me to do any writing for the rest of this year, but then this happened! I woke up thinking about Joel wearing a Gladiator costume and couldn't put it down. It's not as long or intricate as my original idea, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. I've missed these two so much!
Thank you for sticking with me and giving me so much love, I really don't deserve you all 🧡 Happy Halloween!
Joel pushes open the door to the High Street Outfitters, one booted foot steps over the threshold -
And he stops and stares.
Pumpkins of all sizes, some more crudely carved than others, seem to occupy every conceivable surface. Black cat and broomstick decals adorn the worn wooden walls, while hand-pulled cotton cobweb the ceilings.
When his feet unstick and move into the empty shop, he nearly topples a huge cauldron of what looks like homemade candy. Steadying it with his hands, he mutters under his breath. 'What the f-'
He would never admit it, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when you emerge from the studio with a dramatic flutter of the curtain divider. 'Oh hey, you're here!'
Stepping towards you, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a hello, and gestures. 'You really went all out, hmm?'
Your grin brims with pride, and he feels his lips stretch into an answering smile as you straighten up some of the costumes on a nearby rack.
'We found a Halloween shop nearby a few years back,' you explain. 'All their stock was still in boxes in the store room, so we took everything and ran with it. It's a lot of work every year, but the kids have so much fun with it, it's definitely worth it.'
Joel hums skeptically. 'Not just the kids have fun, from what I heard.'
You cross your arms and play coy. 'What have you heard?'
'That my brother hosts the rowdiest Halloween party in town for the adults every year, and tonight is their last hurrah before the baby comes.'
You chuckle. 'And I'm guessing you fought the costume and lost?'
'There’s no winnin’ when your sister-in-law plays the pregnancy card,' he grumbles with poorly concealed fondness.
You walk him towards the racks near the cashier. 'Here are the men's costumes. We run a pay what you want system for Halloween rentals, just pop your contribution into that pumpkin on the counter. You better hurry though, things start kicking off around seven tonight.'
Joel combs through the outfits half-heartedly, when a standalone clothes rack on the other side of the room, covered with a black sheet, catches his eye. 'And what's that?'
You hesitate, and stutter, 'Oh, um - you won’t like those.'
Arching an eyebrow, he stares down at you. 'Why is that, sweetheart?'
The endearing way you wring your hands and worry your bottom lip brings him right back to when he first met you. Your shyness has always provoked a reaction from him - an understanding at first, from the introvert in him. Then protectiveness, when he started spending time with you.
And now, knowing you the way he does, with you opening up to him over the past few months, he lets his mouth relax into a half-smirk, one hand curling around your waist to pull you into his side as he teases, 'Use your words, Pin.'
You huff, recognising the playfulness in his body language, but you still struggle to get the words out. 'They’re - um, damnit - they're adventurous.'
He sets his face in a mock stern expression. 'And what, I’m too borin' for them?'
Narrowing your eyes at him, which makes him grin, you deadpan, 'It's just - they're not your thing, ok? They're of the -' you pause, and gesture in air quotes. 'Occupational variety.'
Comprehension dawns on him, and he drawls, 'Ah, you mean slutty costumes.'
He can feel your skin heat at his words as you duck your head, and he teases, voice low and gruff by your ear. 'And will you be wearin' somethin' slutty for me tonight, sweetheart?'
Your breath hitches and your lips part, eyes glassy at the turn of the mood. 'Joel -'
He isn't a particularly spiritual man, but the longer he lives, the more he’s convinced that some people are put on earth for a reason.
And Lucy's raison d'etre is to cockblock him at every turn.
The door bursts open with a brash energy that is uniquely hers (with an uncanny resemblance to Ellie's), and your best friend doesn't skip a beat at the sight of the pair of you canoodling. 'Save the making out for later, Miller. We gotta go get ready Pin, c’mon!'
You hastily press a kiss to his whiskered cheek. 'Pick your costume and lock up behind you, ok? I'll see you in a bit.'
Lucy all buts hauls you out of the shop, throwing over her shoulder. 'See ya later, Miller! You better show up half naked!'
Curiosity getting the better of him, Joel pulls back the sheet from the clothes rack, and his eyebrows reach for his softly graying hairline. Leafing through the options, he pauses somewhere in the middle, and smiles to himself.
He’ll show you adventurous.
Maria and Tommy's Halloween party is easily the most anticipated event in the Jackson social calendar. Illicit incentives often swap hands for a RSVP, with those unfortunate enough to be assigned patrol duties on the night willing to pay handsomely for a swap in shifts.
While the kids are knocked out at home from eating their body weight in sugar, the Tipsy Bison is teeming with townsfolk. The normally dark interiors are decked out floor to ceiling in garish black and orange, as if people wouldn't get the memo.
Joel was apprehensive on his arrival, pausing for a moment outside the double doors of the establishment to steel himself. But as soon as he crosses the threshold into the warm and boisterous bar, so loud that his right ear rings, he realises that his worries are completely unwarranted.
No one even bats an eyelid as he wades through the throngs of partygoers, nodding politely at acquaintances who drunkenly shout his name and raise a pitcher in greeting.
It's pure madness - Halloween stopped existing for him twenty years ago. The last time he went to a Halloween party was their neighbour's barbeque. He still remembers the Gryffindor costume he bought Sarah, and how big she smiled swishing around in her robe, casting gibberish spells on her friends all night.
This, however, is a distinctly grownup affair.
When he put on his costume and stood in front of the mirror an hour ago, he could barely look at his own reflection. But now, compared to others in the room, turns out his choice is almost demure.
He only saw Gladiator once when it came out a couple of years before the outbreak, but he liked it, and when he saw the costume on the rack, he picked it out straight away.
The dark red cape sits on his shoulders and drapes across half of his torso - shirtless, of course - baring his right arm. He's a bit self-conscious about the skirt (he's sure there's a name for it but the packaging didn't shed light on this), which sits mid-thigh, fastened by a belt around his waist. He's even wearing the Roman sandals and leather bracelet, and a plastic sword hangs from his belt - the full monty.
The vain side in him thinks he can pull it off, but more importantly -
He wore it for you.
But you're nowhere to be seen, even after he grabs a beer from the counter, having circled the bar twice. Spotting a lone empty chair at a high table, he decides to perch (pulling down his skirt so his boxers don't show) while he has a drink and looks for you.
His keen eyes scan the room methodically. Sexy witches, slutty lumberjacks, misbehaving firemen, naughty nurses - together with the noise, everyone and everything seems to blur into one, and he almost gives up when something familiar crosses his line of sight.
Joel frowns.
Hold up. That toolbelt looks familiar. His eyes narrow as he squints at the worn faded leather.
It is his toolbelt. The toolbelt that disappeared from his garage workshop a couple of days ago that Ellie swears she knows nothing about. That little shit.
Then his gaze pulls back, like a camera zooming out, and he finds that the toolbelt is sitting on the soft swell of a pair of hips, over short denim cut-offs that he's sure he's seen before, and below a red flannel. His red flannel, knotted at the waist, that he knows you sleep in every night.
His chest rumbles with something primal, and he downs the rest of his beer in one big gulp before slamming the empty pint glass on the table and getting onto his feet.
You don’t see him coming, but you know without turning around the moment a pair of strong hands close over your hips in a possessive grip, pulling you towards the bathroom in the back of the bar.
He knocks a breathless laugh out of you when he pushes you up the closed door, the noise of the party muted by the thick timber as you grin up at him, preening at the way his dark gaze rakes over your costume.
A shiver runs down your spine as your own undoubtedly dilated eyes follow the solid outline of his right arm, which flexes as he rests his palm on the door behind you, then down his broad chest and the soft belly he’s so nonchalantly putting on display.
It’s absurd, you know - it’s just a tacky Halloween costume, but the seams of your eyes prickle as you muse how comfortable he is in his own skin.
'And what exactly are you dressed up as?' he asks, sliding his free hand under the toolbelt to squeeze your ass.
'A slutty contractor,' you answer boldly, dragging your index finger down his bare chest. 'Isn't it obvious?'
'And you thought stealin' my toolbelt for your little costume was a good idea?' he growls.
'Well, I didn't know you'd turn up as a gladiator of all things,' you tease, wrapping your fingers around the hilt of his plastic sword.
It should not make his pulse spike like this.
'Not only that, sweetheart. I'm a slutty gladiator, thank you very much,' he retorts, walking into you to slot his hips flush against yours.
You shoot him a loaded smirk that instantly has his boxers shrink by two sizes. Ripping his cape off his shoulders, you ask cheekily, ‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'
Joel doesn't let you finish your sentence, swallowing the rest of it with a kiss so deep that it steals your voice and takes out your knees in one fell swoop.
Grinning at the way you're already bonelessly slumped against him, he winks, nose brushing yours. 'I can think of a few things, sweetheart.'
Note: Thank you for reading! I had so much fun dipping my toe back into the Seams universe, I hope you did too. This is me warming up with a view of returning to writing for the series proper, fingers crossed sometime soon! Comments/reblogs/asks are very much appreciated as always 🧡
Thank you @firefly-graphics for the adorably spooky dividers!
#fuckyeahseams#hallow'seams#seams halloween special#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller fluff
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Taters
Karlach x Reader/Tav
A/n: I live temporarily. Back with another fandom. Small ramble note at the bottom.
Winter was just around the corner, causing the night air to chill as of late. You used to hate the cold, it reminded you of… less fortunate times. However, these days you've found yourself slowly being able to see the beauty of it, reason being your beautiful girlfriend, who’s kept you perfectly warm every night, safe and protected against any unsavory memories.
The amazing tiefling who's stolen your heart has kept you company for countless evenings, with each one feeling as special as the last. But this time you find yoursef pondering, a memory—or rather a word—that you couldnt quite shake off.
Taters.
It was just such a bittersweet moment for you both. You thought her family using words just for them was such a cute thing to do, it seemed to make Karlach so happy. It kicked some gears in your brain into motion, so much so that you happened to mindlessly utter it out.
“Pardon, love?” Karlach craned her head to look at you atop her chest.
“Oh– nothing, was just lost in thought–”
“Ah, well taters, either way” She grinned from below you.
Your heart melts a little inside of you. How was anyone allowed to be this cute? Yhe universe is unbelievable.
“Yeah… listen Karlach, ive been thinking about something” You trail off slightly, not quite sure on what you actually want to say.
Karlach tilts her head slightly to the side. A worried frown painting her features. “Something wrong?”
“No, I just… happened to think about your family… The language you had together, you said you were the last remaining speaker. I want to change that.” You held her hand as you talked, both for her reassurance and yours. You mindlessly toyed with it as you spoke.
Karlachs eyes widened.
“You want to kill me!?” She gasped incredulously. “I knew it was only a matter of time… I wouldnt mind if it was you though, make it quick” She stuck her bottom lip out and wiped a fake tear from her eye, while the other hand held yours to her chest.
You snatched your hand from where she held it and lightly bopped her on the forehead, looking only mildly amused.
“As if.” You scoffed lightheartedly.
Karlach grinned. “Of course, so what about my parents?” There was a faraway look in her eyes. Shes told you that she loves talking about her parents, but being a little sentimental about it was unavoidable.
“The uh… the language you had together, what other words did you guys have?”
“You want to know about the gibberish we spoke?” Karlach smiled, unsure.
“Yeah, it was a big part of your childhood, I want to make more good memories with those words… maybe with a family of our own.” You sunk your face into the firm muscle of her shoulder, partly because it was comfy, but partly to avoid looking at her, in case she didnt agree.
“I cant believe you just brought up the idea of a family before I could. How dare you.” The pitch of her voice raised towards the end. She narrowed her eyes at you.
“Oops” You giggle, face still smooshed against her skin.
“Hmph.” She scoffed. “Give me a moment to remember, im sure I can dig up some of them.” Karlach gazed at the ceiling, mind drifting back to her childhood.
“Lets see… chess… chess meant a kiss… Yeah, I think I remember being grossed out because I saw my parents giving each other ‘chesses’.” Karlach chuckles softly at the memory.
“Chesses? Thats… oddly fitting for a kiss.” You smiled. “What else?”
“Sheesh just give me a moment” Karlach pouts. “Cant let a woman think for shit in here” She huffs.
“So dramatic. Just take your time.” You rolled your eyes.
Karlach scoffs, but otherwise stays silent for a moment, collecting little anecdotes from her childhood.
“Hmm… Blankets were called ‘warmers’ I think”
“Simple and straightforward, I like it.” You grin
“Right?” Karlach laughs, a beautiful sound. You cant help but snuggle up impossibly closer into her. And she holds you just a little bit tighter.
“Then…” Karlach trails off slowly, hand unconsciously starting to pet your head. “Hm. Sorry soldier, cant remember any more right now.” Karlach sheepishly smiled.
“Thats okay, we can try again tomorrow. I think let's just sleep, i'm tuckered out”
“Sounds great.” She presses a kiss to your forehead.
~~~~~
The conversation is mostly forgotten by her, whose been busy with choosing only the best produce for you both at the market. She left before you woke up, hoping to surprise you, but it seems she got too caught up with haggling with the shop ladies, so that plan was out the window.
As soon as she enters your shared cabin, youre immediately clung onto her.
“Chess.” You peel yourself away from the hug momentarily to face her with a kissy face at her while pointing at your face.
Her brows furrows before they relax and melt into an expression of surprise and awe. She leans down to give you a small peck then envelops you in a large bear hug.
“Gods, have no clue how happy that made me” She grins widely.
“Yeah? Prepare to be happy a lot more then.” You preen at the feeling of being able to make her feel like this.
“Thats going to be difficult considering im already always happy when im with you.” Karlach looks at you adoringly. To an almost painful degree.
The emotions rushing into you felt a little overbearing. Your eyes narrow and your muscles stiffen. “Im getting cuteness aggression.”
“Im honored.” She smirks.
“Stop or else I will actually fall to the floor.”
“I cant, youre too amazing. But don't worry if you fall, ill make sure to nurse you better myself.” Her voice was teasing, but held affection all the same.
“Just stop talking to me.” You bat at her shoulder stiffly as your face sits in a lighthearted scowl.
“Alright, ill lay off from the sweet talk for a little bit. Just for now.” She relents.
“Somehow that makes it even worse. Im going to feed the pets. Bye.” You move robotically, movements restrained from the rush of the pure emotions.
Karlach chuckles to herself, used to your mannerisms. Youll be back, and in the meanwhile, she supposes she’ll be cooking breakfast for the both of you.
“Alright love, taters!” She waves. She takes the produce from the bags and prepares them to be cooked.
Not long after, she hears a loud crash swiftly followed by your voice.
“Im fine!” You hurriedly shout. God forbid she saw the mess you made from recoiling when she called you.
Karlach shakes her head as she continues washing the vegetables. You were one hell of a person, and she couldnt see herself with anyone else.
A/n#2: AGHHH I FINISHED ITTT. Listen I had an idea but I dont know how to actually write it. I guess its still cute but it has strayed from what i have envisioned. Started with the original prompt then turned into a sort of domestic bliss/banter thing? I dont know. Anyway, this became a shameless self insert but its okay because its my fic. also dont ask about the made up words im uncreative.
Sorry for the ADHD rant this is how I am when im supposed to be sleeping, till next time guys <33
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Hi love, i saw ur requests are open i was wondering if you could do a frank castle x teen reader where reader is basically a female peter parker. Maybe frank meets her as spider women and later finds out shes just a kid doing all this messed up shit. Only write if u want too ofcourse thank youu <3
Spidey
Summary : On his normal patrol of New York, Frank runs into a vigilante with spider powers.
Warnings : mentions of violence (but its not a lot), teen reader, this is a platonic frank x reader!!!, not proof read
Notes : frank being a father(ish) figure >> (also thank you for the request, its a rlly fun idea i love it! i had to write these over the course of three days bc ive been very stressed and tired but i hope you still enjoy it!)
Frank had heard talk about someone with spider-like powers swinging around New York City at night, taking out low level robbers and such. He didn't really believe that though. A person with spider powers? Yeah, right. He wouldn't believe it until he saw it.
On patrol one night, Frank was driving around the streets of New York City with his eyes peeled for any activity. As he turned a corner, he saw a group of robbers running out of a store with bags full of products. He quickly parked and got out of his car, only to hear the robbers grunt and yelled.
He looked over and saw two of the robbers wrapped up in a...spider web? The others were chasing something down into an alleyway. Frank sighed and ran after them.
In the alleyway, a figure was swinging around and landing kicks and hits on the robbers. There was spider person he had heard about. Whoever they were, they had a mask on to conceal their identity. "Oh, come on fellas! I thought this would be harder!"
Frank rolled his eyes at the remark as he grabbed a nearby brick and chucked it at one of the robbers. The fighting stopped as the robber fell to the ground, knocked out, and they all looked at Frank.
One of the robbers took the spider person's pause to punch them. The spider person stumbled back while Frank charged at the rest of the robbers, easily taking them out.
As he caught his breath, Frank walked over to the spider person who was catching their breath, too.
"I had it covered, you didn't need to step in," they spat.
"It was five to one-"
"Three to one once they got down here. I can handle myself. I don't need the big bad Punisher to come save me," they cut him off, brushing past him.
"You know about me?"
"Of course I do. And I know you know about me."
With that, they shot a web up and swung away.
--
You kept your head down and hood on when you walked to and from school. A black from the night before had bloomed around your eye and you didn't feel like making up an excuse. Your hands ran up and down the straps of your backpack as you watched your shoes on the pavement.
Your shoulder hit someone and you stumbled before glancing back at whoever it was. "Watch it!" You yelled.
Then you realized who it was. The Punisher.
Frank froze when you yelled at him. He recognized your voice from the spider person. You were glaring at him in attempt to hide your slight fear.
He looked around before pulling you into the opening of an alley.
"You're the spider person from last night," Frank said, low enough for you to hear and no one else.
"I'm not, you have me confused with someone else," you spat in reply. You tried to walk away but Frank grabbed your arm and kept you in place.
"You have a black eye, kid. I watched you get punched right there last night, and you're not a great liar without your mask."
"I...got into a fight at school-"
"Bullshit," Frank quickly cut you off. You glared up at him, crossing your arms in front of you.
"So, what are you going to do? Call the police on me? Tell my parents?"
Frank sighed. "I should. You're a kid going around and fighting crime at night. This vigilante shit is not a game-"
"I know it's not a game!" You said a bit louder than expected. You and Frank quickly looked at the people passing by, making sure no one had heard anything, then looked back at each other. "I know it's not a game. I want to protect my city. I want to help."
"There are already people helping, we don't need to worry about a kid trying to be hero."
"I'm not a kid! I'm 17!"
He sighed once again, already done with your attitude. "Fine, you wanna help? Swing around tonight and I'll find you, then you're staying by my side-"
"What? You wanna protect me or something?"
"Yes. I do. I don't need another kid hurt because they wanna pull some stupid shit."
"...okay, dad," you said teasingly. "See you around."
You turned and left. Frank watched as you disappeared into the crowd of people walking by on the sidewalk.
#frank castle x reader#frank castle x you#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle fanfic#the punisher x reader#the punisher x you#the punisher fanfiction#the punisher fanfic#frank castle x teen!reader
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Could you imagine fighting side-by-side with the Master Chief from Installation 04 all the way to the end of the war, and meeting him again on Requiem. "I wanted to be like you, Chief."
YES, I can. I just adore these asks, gets my creative juices running. I really said we're making a short-fic with this.
The first thing that comes into mind is a Marine or an ODST that fought side by side with John through the ring. Someone who he ends up trusting considering they went through all this with him, the halo, the flood, and all that ‘fun’ stuff between. Honestly, he’s impressed they haven’t been killed yet but also how you had the ability to keep going despite everything you had faced and seen. John can think of commanders and captains who didn’t have the same resilience as you. He might even make a brief comment that you would be a good squad leader or commanding officer much to your delight.
So when he first goes MIA, it’s hard to believe that the Master Chief is gone and there is a lot of denial, but the years press on, and time doesn’t wait on anyone. I also think you would not only be grieving John’s ‘death’ but also Sergeant Johnson’s as he would’ve been your commanding officer during the war and a role model. Ultimately, you take John’s words to heart and climb up the ranks into command.
There isn’t much surprise when you are scouted out for the Spartan-IV program as one of the newest generation of Spartans by Musa Ghanem. It is surprising when he starts talking about John in an almost familiar tone and how he heard about the battles the two of you faced together on the halo. You are sold on the idea of the program as soon as Musa brings the Master Chief into the picture, what else was there than to be like him? And that maybe, if he did somehow come back, you could even have John’s back and fight for him.
As you delve into the Spartan-IV program with five others, you progress through the augmentation process, and enhancements reshape your body which lasts nearly three weeks. When it comes to training and field exercises, you and Sarah Palmer wipe the floor with the rest of the candidates. By the end of the program, you took the position of lieutenant commander as Sarah's right-hand Spartan. [Note: you and Sarah are probably besties after bonding by kicking ass. Also, Sarah has to stop you from committing something that might get you court marital a multitude of times on the UNSC Infinity, aka you almost punching the daylight out of 'captain' Andrew Del Rio.]
By the time Requiem rolls around, your reputation as a Spartan-IV and a capable leader has grown. So when you hear the distress signal, you know it's Cortana by voice alone and you are demanding to investigate, which almost prompts a fight between the captain and yourself that Commander Lasky has to intervene and side with you.
Conversation snips-
[Lasky] "I know you don't like Del Rio, Lieutenant, but I almost thought you were going to punch him."
[You] "I was this close."
[Lasky] "Your fingers are touching."
[You] "Exactly."
Or
[Lasky] "I've never seen you lose your cool like that."
[You] "I-If there is a possibility the Chief is alive, it's our job to investigate it."
[Lasky] "I feel like there is more than you're letting on."
When the UNSC Infinity crashes on Requiem, you manage to round up a squad of Spartan-IV and go scout the jungle area. It's the flash of metallic green that had you holding up your hand to stop the others from firing.
"Chief?" You call out in disbelief, your gun lower just a bit. You knew there was a possibility he was still alive but seeing him in the flesh, if it wasn't for the Spartan training, you would've started crying.
"No way...[Y/n]?" The feminine voice rang through your helmet and the sound of her on TEAMCOM had a grin touching your lips.
"'Tana! Long time no see." You gave your team a signal to hold off while you approached the Master Chief, he almost seemed to be scanning you up and down.
"You're huge! And wearing MJOLNIR."
"Ma'am yes ma'am," You chuckled. "Hi, Chief. It's good to see you up and causing trouble." This time around, John didn't seem to tower over you, he was still taller but it no longer felt like you had to crank your neck up.
"You became a Spartan?" It was a question, the first words to hear him say after all these years and you were grinning to the point your cheeks hurt.
"I wanted to be like you, Chief." You gave him a shrug. "I got scouted and here we are."
"I feel like there is more to the story than just that." Cortana quipped and you could absolutely imagine her with her hand on her hips, giving you that pointed look she did back on installation 04.
"Tell you what, we make it out of here, I buy drinks and I'll tell you everything that's happened in the last four and half years." The Spartan-ll tilted his head ever so slightly before giving you a curt nod.
"I think we would like that very much." The teasing tone in Cortana's voice didn't miss you by much and there was certainly a smile in her tone. Was she teasing you? That would have to be figured out later as several blips appeared on your radar. "So, just like old times?"
#halo#ask#asks#mini fic#halo series#master chief#john 117#cortana#john 117 x reader#master chief x reader#halo 4#I went wild#I literally pulled up the game for thus#kicking my feet#I had a blast writing this
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what if the gone series and mortal kombat had a crossover,,,,,
No secret that lately my hyperfixation has been Mortal Kombat 1 and i can’t stop imagining a universe where Gone is a hit tv series and a character gets introduced into MK as a guest fighter (like Omniman, Terminator etc). ive been thinkin about this for like a week straight now and had to write out some of my ideas cause this will literally never happen BUT.imagine if it did .nothing wrong with imagining right?? (im insane🫶)
Gone has a LOT of characters that would make great fighters in the game, but Drake would definitely be the most likely choice since 1) the MK series already includes characters with telekinesis, fire power, gravity etc so his whip hand would be a unique addition to the roster, 2) he’s a Gone fan favourite and 3) Drake’s character fits in perfectly with all the over the top blood & guts of mortal kombat lol. I can’t see a character like Sam or Dekka willingly carrying out the unnecessarily gory kills that happen in the games LMAO
Some stuff to mention before I actually get into the notes ive scribbled down about drake as a fighter: in my mind it’d be Gone/Hunger drake before brittney & their regeneration, just cause it saves things getting too complicated with the bodyswapping etc etc plus MK already has characters like Havik that can regenerate so it makes for fun dialogue lol. I wrote up this stuff based off the gameplay in MK1 so just.visually imagine that in ur brains when reading ok thanks
In MK1 each character has two fatalities - Drake’s first one would feature the coyotes since they were a major part of him as an antagonist near the end of the first book. The second fatality would bring in the wire he tries to slice Brianna up with during Hunger, while referencing ahead to Plague where Brianna splits him through the neck & waist.
I have a rough idea of what Drake’s fatal blow would be like - starting the fatal blow with a basic whip slash, then after the kameo fighter does their hits Drake would move in and whip the opponent again, spinning them around then kicking the back of their legs to knock them down onto their knees. The camera would shift to show the opponent’s hands encased in a cement block (signature coates academy move lol), before Drake grabs the back of their head and smashes it down against the block for the X-ray hit.
Haven’t thought of the actual brutalities for him yet (he’d definitely have a couple with his guns) but I think each character has around 4 or 5 different lines they can say after completing a brutality - i did have ideas for those so i wrote some down :>
Last thing i though up for fun was a bunch of fight intro dialogue against different characters on the roster; these r all so stupid and some of them aren’t thaaat great but yknow what. i had fun thinking them up (if anyone has any more ideas pleaassjsje let me know and ill add em lol)
I know i talk a lot about how much id love to see Gone as a 2D-animated series, but thinking about 3D models of the gone cast in the style of MK1 would be so sick… would also be fun to see other characters carrying out their fatalities on drake LMAO, always love to see that guy getting his ass kicked
#what if i made art for this dumb little idea#a gone fighting game in general would go CRAZYY#drake merwin#the gone series#gone series#fayz#the fayz#michael grant#gone michael grant#caine soren#sam temple#astrid ellison#diana ladris#brianna berenson#mortal kombat#mortal kombat 1#mk1#omni man#homelander
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alright, ive had bipolar disorder for like six years already and though medication helps prevent manic behaviors, the mania doesn't actually go away, so here are some of the ways ive hacked my mania so i dont just snort a bunch of coke at a dive bar:
1. feeling spendy? take yourself to the dollar store, thrifting, or buy off of a list of "nice to haves"! set aside physical cash in the amount you can spend so you dont overspend (or at least prevent yourself from overspending as much as possible), or try only bringing a certain amount of bags to carry the goods and limit yourself to that amount of bags.
2. have too much energy and/or feel really frustrated or irritable? GYM. GYM GYM GYM. i dont care if youre not normally a gym person, go to the gym. if you dont have access to a gym, go for a run. if you cant run or go to the gym, shadow box in your house/backyard. throw pillows around your bed, jump on it, kick your legs like youre having a tantrum. let yourself slam doors. if you have access to some under-used concrete like a shitty parking lot or a driveway, break those dishes you dont even like (just clean up the glass after).
3. feeling creative? dont go buy another new hobby, pick up one of the ones youve tabled for so long! keep a list to remind yourself of your hobbies for when youre manic- looking at it may get you excited!
4. want to completely change your life, quit your job and move to a different country? move some furniture, do some reorganizing, clean the house, or throw out some stuff you dont need anymore. for this i like to put on those cleaning/reorganization shows or organizing video compilations on in the background to get me pumped up.
5. feeling restless? go to a new place. for this i say it depends on the level of restlessness what the solution is. mild restlessness (aka "urghhh im bored") calls for a walk/drive in a new direction/one you usually dont go in (NOT A ROAD TRIP, you manic motherfucker). moderate to severe restlessness (aka "there's nothing to DO IM GONNA BITE SOMETHING") calls for going to a new place, like a museum, library, even a waterfront you haven't been to before.
6. wanna do a bunch of drugs and/or party? hang out with some friends instead. if you normally do some drugs (cigarettes weed alcohol), do them around friends who know your situation so you dont overdo it. and i say only those three drugs because dear god, everything else will just make you more manic. note: be careful with some strains of weed while manic, particularly sativa-dominant- they can cause more mania and hallucinations.
7. racing thoughts? DRAW. even if youre not an artist or cant draw worth a shit, DRAW. manic drawings are actually a whole thing in psychology and are SO COOL TO LOOK AT. I even have a tattoo of a drawing i did while manic! just let your hands move freely on the page with whatever tools you feel like using.
a lot of these tactics can be swapped out with each other depending on what helps your moods. if reorganizing when youre restless helps, then great! if when you wanna change your life you go to a new place, awesome. whatever works for you! these are just some ideas. i keep this list pinned on my phone so that when im manic i remember.
if you have any suggestions, please add them!
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hi! was the anon with the whole dazai chuuya outfit thing. i went ahead and checked every single chuuya panel i could look into and yeah he actively loses/takes it off with dazai which? is? interesting :) ive also compiled some intances where hes dealing with other people just to compare!
infamous dungeon scene- he grabs it by his hand over the shoulder first, before tossing it away. he also just...takes it off when kicking dazai's chains off
guild arc where dazai and chuuya work together- same deal with the dungeon where he grabs it with his hand so it doesnt fall off but later loses it because of lovecraft (also included the last image of him talking about plans with dazai like the ye olde days just because)
now him doing "im grabbing my coat so it doesnt fall off" thing is just....not in the panels where hes dealing with anyone else. like you would think hed do that while hes kicking kenji but he just. doesnt. you would also think that he would use gravity to keep it there? like he CAN do that. but its just...off when hes with dazai, even theres only like two whole instances in the manga. and now that hes "dealing" with dazai again, hes just straight up not wearing his usual outfit.
much to think about!
Op????? You actually went through each panel oh my god. You beat me to it!
I am really fascinated by this now. I'm unsure, due to Chuuya's inconsistent appearances in the manga, whether this was or was not intentional but either way, it's still worth noting.
While there are scenes where he's not wearing the coat (drinking with Kajii and Hirotsu, celebrating with Mori and Kouyou, as examples off the top of my head), these aren't the same since he enters the scene without the coat and the setting is more casual.
But yeah there's definitely more contact - and lack of - with the coat in the scenes with Dazai. Again, I'm unsure if this is intentional but it is nonetheless interesting.
In official art, I've noticed that Chuuya occasionally does the coat hold, but while Dazai is often featured, it lacks the context of the manga to be able to discern whether or not this is part of some trend.
I love the idea of it being symbolic in some way. I also love the idea that Chuuya touches his hat and coat more around Dazai because he used to use his nullification power to steal them and run off with them kjdfndkj
I imagine Chuuya has to use gravity to keep his coat on while he's fighting (someone teach these characters how to wear a coat properly hhhh) and because Dazai tried to steal his stuff so often when they were younger, it's now an automatic impulse to hold onto them whenever he's around hahaha
...that said, that doesn't explain the unusual loss of the coat in the Lovecraft fight. In the first scene, Chuuya kicks the shackles chaining Dazai to the wall - that contact could've released the hold he had on the coat... maybe. In the other, he just gets thrown into a wall and didn't come into contact with Dazai at all. Could it represent a return to just the two of them and their old bickering dynamic against a common foe, bare of the context of traitors and opposing sides for just one night? Maybe, maybe not. Again, it's hard to say.
Nice to (sort of) meet you btw! Or at least to be able to put a blog to the thoughts you sent earlier, haha.
#this is so interesting#thanks for the ask!#bsd#bsd chuuya#soukoku#skk#also about the extra image#i completely understand adding another picture of chuuya just because. i get it.#especially when it's those two *gasp* actually working together#storyrambles#if anyone wants to feel free to weigh on this
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Drabble 2- A wedding scene
Today I've accepted some prompts for drabbles (although no more for now. I've got one more to do and I'm sure it will take me a while), so here is drabble 2. (Drabble 1 is here)
Prompt: "im hoping you could share more abt molasses au em’s wedding and/or honeymoon. Ive been wondering who walked mikasa down the aisle? Eren probably (100%) cried."
Mikasa pressed her hand to her chest and took a deep breath while Gabriella adjusted her veil for her, preening because her weeks-long campaign to be named the maid of honor had been a success.
“Are you nervous about the wedding night?” asked Gabriella, who had no idea what happened on the wedding night and hoped that the ensuing conversation would furnish some hints.
“Oh, no, not that. Eren and I have practiced for that plenty of times,” said Mikasa.
Gabriella goggled at her. “How do you practice?”
“Ask your mother,” said Mikasa, looking at Uncle Kenny’s office wall clock. The ceremony wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes. She could hear the guests beginning to arrive at the bar, though, and she could hear Levi kicking the regulars out, snapping, “We’re closed for an hour and a half. You can come back after the guests have their cake.”
As anxiety fluttered in her stomach, Mikasa took a seat at Kenny’s desk and opened his ledger, running her finger down the columns and silently adding or subtracting each entry, taking long, deep breaths.
Her nerves were just finally coming under control when a tap on the office door startled her.
“I’ll answer it,” said Gabriella, bustling officiously to the door and opening it. “Falco! What are you doing here?”
“I have a message for Miss Ackerman from Mr. Jaeger,” said Falco, handing over the note Eren had dictated to him.
Gabriella snatched the paper from his hand and slammed the door shut before flouncing across the room to deliver it to its recipient.
“Thank you,” said Mikasa, accepting it, her stomach flipping and flopping as she unfolded it. Had he realized at this late stage that it would be a mistake for him to marry her? She scanned the note.
“My dearest M—
Before you try to run away and leave me at the altar, I should tell you that I am watching the door. I will not let you pass through it except as my wife. I love you, I love you, I love you.
—E”
She folded the note again and held it over her heart, smiling to herself.
“Was it a love note?” squealed Gabriella. “Can I read it?”
Mikasa hesitated a moment, then handed it over. Gabriella opened it eagerly then wrinkled her nose. “It’s not very romantic,” she observed.
Mikasa took her note back, her eyes twinkling as she tucked it inside her lacy white sleeve. “What would be better in your opinion?”
Gabriella clasped her hands together and sighed. “I would prefer love poems and flowers,” she said.
Mikasa bit back a smile. “To me, there is nothing more romantic a man can do than know you as surely as he knows himself and still want you at his side.”
Gabriella looked doubtful but she shrugged. She was still just a girl. She had no idea what strange thoughts plagued the minds of women. She occupied herself with inspecting Mikasa’s bouquet, fluffing up the ribbon tied around the fragrant bunch of calla lilies.
There was another knock on the door. “It’s time, Gabriella,” said Falco when she opened it. “You need to go stand in your spot.”
Gabriella twisted to look up at the time. “Oh my goodness! I haven’t been checking the clock!” she said.
“You never do,” said Falco, blushing and offering her his elbow. “May I escort you up?”
“Okay,” said Gabriella, waving to Mikasa and grabbing Falco’s arm.
Mikasa took a deep breath, but before her nerves had a chance to overtake her once more, Uncle Kenny crashed through the door and let it slam shut behind him. “You’re almost up, my little snail,” he said in German, putting his hands on his hips and inspecting her. Mikasa hurried to his desk and picked up Carla Jaeger’s Kodak Brownie.
“Will you take a photograph of me and Eren together?” she asked. “Her camera must be her eyes now, and I will put all the photos of things we never got to show her in her album.”
Kenny accepted the boxy Kodak. “I’ll give this to Levi,” he said. “He’ll be the one to do your photo justice.”
He went to the door and shouted to Mikasa’s cousin, delegating the task, then came back inside to offer his arm to his niece. She took it, straightening her shoulders and trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach.
“Please keep your receipts until I return from my honeymoon,” she said. “I don’t want you even touching the books, especially not the doctored ones.” She pointed to a tray she had left on his desk. “Just pile it all up there and I will take care of it when I get back.”
“I’m not that useless,” said Kenny.
Mikasa frowned at him.
“I won’t touch the books,” he said, raising his free hand in a solemn oath, then cocking his head. “It sounds like it’s time, little one,” he said. “They’ve put the Wedding March on the victrola.”
Mikasa took a deep breath and nodded.
Uncle Kenny led her forward, through his office door, and down the aisle marked by long, silken ribbons, leading from the back of the bar to the front where Eren stood, waiting.
His eyes widened as soon as they landed on her, sheening over with salty tears as he looked her up and down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back a sob and managed a smile instead.
“Bah,” Uncle Kenny muttered under his breath, but when Mikasa glanced up at him to give him a reproving frown, she saw that his eyes were also rimmed with tears. He glanced back at her. “Shut up,” he said, wiping his eye. “I only have one little girl.”
He let her go at the end of the aisle and Gabriella hurried forward to take her bouquet. Mikasa took her place standing in front of Eren. He took her hands in his, holding them tightly. “So you can’t get away,” he sniffled.
Their guests stood as the Lutheran pastor from the German church that none of the Ackermans actually went to began the brief ceremony.
Mikasa looked up at Eren, admiring her prince. His cheeks glistened with tears but he smiled at her, soft-eyed and glowing.
They were both so entranced with each other that they would have missed their own “I do’s” if the pastor had not nudged them back into the real world.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he announced once their rings were safely on their fingers.
Eren swept Mikasa’s veil from her face, ignoring Gabriella’s protests that it was the Maid of Honor’s job, and, in defiance of propriety, pulled Mikasa to him and kissed her. “My wife,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. “Until death do us part.”
#eremika#eremika fanfic#little mice#aot fanfiction#drabble#eremika au#boston molasses disaster au#eremika wedding#1910s
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AHHHHHH THE SANTI SOCCER PLAYER FIC!!! It was so good!! One of my favorite fics ive read in a while, thank you very much 💙💙
Imagine playing soccer with santi and the boys and absolutely kicking their asses. I feel like santi might feel a certain way 👀 just food for thought
Ah thank you so much! I’m super happy you enjoyed it 😊
Since I’m now so into this pairing I HAD to write a little blurb with your idea! Here you go! It’s set prior to the last one, earlier in their relationship.
Kick around: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Masc!Soccer Player!Reader
Summary: Santi watches you run circles around his squad, and it makes him feel some kinda way.
Genre: fluff but Santi is a horny bastard (no smut, not explicit.) He soff! He dopey in love!
Reader: masc!reader, he/him pronouns. No anatomical / physical descriptions. Reader takes shirt off on pitch.
Author’s note: I ship these two so hard 🥹
Gif by @thewaythisis
You’re the hottest person to have ever existed.
Santi is sure of it.
He’d invited the whole squad along to your traditional Sunday morning kick-around. They’d been pestering him to meet you and this -you’d agreed- seemed like a fun and low pressure way to get to know them a little. While you’re in your element.
But, watching you run circles around every single one of them, is making him feel some kind of way.
It’s basically 5-a-side (well, four of them) versus you, and you are a fucking machine.
The breath saws in and out of his lungs as he watches Frankie attempt to pass the ball to Will as though he’s never met a soccer ball in his life, the shot clearly jarring his leg - a fact Frankie quickly attempts to gloss over.
He watches you dance around Will, basically teasing him far more than you need to with you fancy footwork. Will’s chest is heaving, his body lurching all over the place. You make every one of his highly trained operatives look cumbersome and tired, and meanwhile you’re not even out of breath. Haven’t broken a sweat. Have a gorgeous shit-eating grin on your face.
Santi is fit enough to keep up for a while longer at least, even if his soccer skills are lacklustre. He’s fine with that, honestly. He knows he has plenty of other skills - but the boys are actually competing with you as though it’s a matter of personal pride. As through they stand a chance.
Santi dips off to the side of the pitch to refuel with water and to calm his shaky legs, but in truth he’s just enjoying watching you. He enjoys showing you off. He enjoys the fact that you’re completely kicking their asses. He very much enjoys how hot you look as you do it too. How in control you look. How poised. You’re so fucking competent. The way your body looks as you run circles around them. Your 100-watt smile which he can see shining from all the way over here.
And finally, he watches you approach Benny, the last line of defence between you and the goal.
Benny is the only one that maybe has any kind of shot at besting you. He’s in shape. He’s spry. He’s an athlete.
No wait. He’s… calling a time-out? He’s grabbing some water. He’s taking his shirt off and… damn, you follow suit, and as Santi continues to sip on his water he has to be careful it doesn’t drool from the corner of his mouth at the sight of you.
Still, when Benny is ready, you resume, and he puts in a good effort but he has no hope in hell. You run rings around him. Leave him in the dust. His only hope is a completely dirty tackle, and Santi had already warned him what the consequences of that would be.
Still, the bastard does it anyway. Tries to grab you and swipe the ball from out under you. You stop dead still, putting your arms in the air and scolding the man. “This isn’t MMA, Benjamin.” Santi chuckles to himself. God, he loves that you fit right in. Like you’ve always been here. Like he’s always known you.
Then, you let Benny retake his position and you fleet straight past him, socking a sweet shot right into the top corner of the net with precision.
The boys all congregate now, Frankie folded in half and looking like he’s begging for an end to this torment. You pat him on the back and run to get him a towel and an isotonic drink, and Santi’s eyes crease with fondness as he watches you take care of and banter with his squad as though they are your own.
It’s one of the many things that can make him imagine you being in his life for a very long time, and the thought causes a sort of tranquility to wash over him.
Eventually, you peel of, nodding your head in the direction of Santi and beelining over towards where he casually leans up against a tree, doing that little footballer run to get over to him.
“Hiiiii,” he says dreamily, his pupils replaced by hearts, he’s sure, as he melts into a puddle.
You look amused. “Having fun, baby?”
Santi simply blinks, batting his long-lashes at you.
“Hiiiii,” he repeats, giving you the once-over with his eyes and evidently liking what he sees.
“Hi,” you laugh bashfully, the rich sound bobbing in your throat, and meanwhile Santi pushes up off the tree and shimmies closer. He places his hands at your hips, where shorts meet bare skin, and you have the good sense to clamp your hands over his, as though he’d be ballsy enough to strip you right here. “Do you think the guys are having fun?”
“I don’t know,” Santi purrs. “I’ve forgotten all their names. Faces. There’s only you.” A blatant heat is brewing in his eyes, and his gaze trails like fire over you.
You drop your voice lower in your throat. “Oh, you liked that did you? Watching me run circles around your friends? Showing me off?”
Santi smiles dopily at you. He’s got nothing.“Hiiiii,” he repeats, and you slide your hands from where they rest and loop them around his neck.
“Well. You can show me how much I impressed you later. For now, we have brunch.”
“Skip brunch,” Santi grunts, like a Neanderthal.
“Baby!” you eyes search his for sense. “I promised to get to know your friends. It’s important for us, right?”
The fact you’d do that for him? The fact you said us? It’s just one of the many things that makes Santiago want you in his life for a very, very long time.
One of the things; but there are so many more.
#santiago garcia x m!reader#santiago garcia x reader#santiago pope garcia x reader#mlm#triple frontier
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Consider: A crossover. Vi stumbles across the hive from hollow knight, likely when it's almost barren. The Hive Knight, last denizen of the hive, recognizes her as a bee, but not as a foreigner. You can probably see where this is going.
hmm, I doubt I'd be able to come up with a whole fic for this, but it's interesting enough (and I love the bees enough) to maybe write a little somethin
(it's probably gonna count the names in the ask itself towards searches, but heck it, I'm still putting this under a cut)
actually hang on, this is turning into a whole heckin ficlet, lemme just-
update, after spending all my free time today writing this: you crazy sonuva binch, you actually did it. you inspired me to write a whole oneshot on the spot, without even a proper outline. me and my darn soft spot for bees... oh wait shoot, I guess I should name this, huh?
An Unfamiliar Hive (H/ollow K/night & B/ug F/ables Vore Fic)
Characters: V/i (B/ug F/ables), H/ive K/night (H/ollow K/night), whole bunch of H/ivelings (background), and K/abbu and L/eif (mentioned)
Word Count: 2,217
Warnings: Infected Bees(...? Idk, but V/i is disturbed), Manipulation of Emotion, Accidental Fearplay, and Safe, Soft Vore (Quarter-Size, maybee?)
Other Notes: The Hive is pretty dead, but not all the way dead. Takes place after Ghost went through there, but beefore the end of the Infection. H/ive K/night got messed up by the encounter, but he’s alive, and doing.. relatively okay. Also, more importantly, in the dialogue, [brackets] signify Hivespeak, whereas unbracketed dialogue is in the common language. The Hivespeak is intentionally difficult to read, but there should be enough context to get the gist of what’s beeing said, at least
This really just.. kept going and going, huh. That’s what happens when I write without plotting out the whole story first, I guess. Then again, I’ve written longer. Then again again, this was meant to be a snippet. Now it’s time to post this at 1 am because I’m a FOOL-
Fic under the cut
-----------------------------------------------
Vi flitted through the strange Hive uneasily. The place was massive, much larger than the one in Bugaria, even without taking into consideration the fact that everything in this forgotten kingdom was oddly... upscaled. It was also gorgeous, she’d give it that, but it was just so empty for how big it was. It didn’t sit right with her.
She shuddered as a couple bees flew past. Each of them was about half her size, and they were only the smallest kind she'd seen so far. Based on the shape of their bodies, and the tasks she'd seen them perform, she could infer that they weren't quite as sapient as all the bees from home. Still, their movements were deadened, impersonal, mechanical in a way that indicated that no mind went into their work whatsoever. She caught sight of an orange tint in some of their eyes—something she'd noticed in all the husks that still roamed long after they should've died.
Vi really, really wished she hadn't decided to explore this place on her own. She could use the comfort of her teammates right about now. But noooo, she had to get bored while they were resting and go off on her own. She mentally kicked herself for thinking that was ever a good idea in this plague-ridden place. At least here, nothing was attacking her, but it was still too disturbing for one bug to handle alone. She wasn't even going to think about the Hive husks that meandered about on the floor below. If she did, she might throw up. She had a feeling those things would be just as revolting even without the Infection.
As she flew deeper inside, it didn’t get much better. There were more of those obscenely large guardians buzzing around, along with some soldiers. She thanked her lucky stars that they didn’t perceive her as a threat. She clutched her Beemerang closer to her chest as she whizzed past them. This far in, the little honeybee thought she could spot some Hivelings whose movements were a bit clearer, more thought out, less instinct-driven, but they darted away almost as soon as she pulled into view. That was interesting. Maybe there were some that had escaped the Infection, for the time being? They were far outnumbered by the Infected ones, though. And their actions weren’t all that different from what their compatriots were doing, even if they did have a bit more presence of mind.
Eventually, Vi’s wings tired out. She came to land at the entrance of a long corridor and started walking down it, taking note of the remnants of odd, poorly constructed walls that looked to have been knocked down. She kicked at the rubble, choosing a piece to take with her and follow for a bit as it clattered down the hall with each kick. She should probably leave—return to where the team had set up camp before her friends started to worry. But she had already come this far. Something compelled her to see this little excursion through to the end.
At the end of the unusually long tunnel was a room. She kicked the piece of wax and hardened honey to the center of the space and jogged after it before looking up.
Oh. That was... a big bee. A very big, very dead bee, hanging motionless in the center of a tall, rounded chamber, off to the side where a fourth wall should’ve been. This must have been their queen. Part of her wondered at how the Hive was still running with the queen dead. The other part was struck dumb, frozen staring numbly upward at the gargantuan corpse. She didn’t even notice the quiet ‘thump’ of something landing softly behind her.
“[Wh-t.. ... ..doi-g h-re.. l-ttl- -ne?]”
Vi jumped at the sudden buzzing voice over her shoulder. She whipped around to face the tall, imposing bee standing nearby. They stepped forward and knelt to be closer to her level, giving her a kind and concerned look.
Unlike the rest of the workers and protectors of the Hive, this one was bipedal, with metal pauldrons for armor and a long, waxy needle, held like a staff or spear of some sort. Most notably, they were present enough to communicate with her, albeit in Hivespeak. Vi’s Hivespeak was rusty, as Bugaria’s own version of the language had started to be phased out in favor of the common tongue ever since she was a kid. Plus, the Hallownest version seemed to have extra flourishes, and a bit of an accent. Not only that, but this particular bee was stumbling over their words, stopping and starting in odd places. Now that she looked closer, Vi could see that they had a slight tremor, with mostly-healed scrapes and slashes all over their body. She thought she caught a glimpse of orange, somewhere deep in their eyes, but it could’ve just been the amber lighting. It could just be paranoia.
“Bzz? [-re you... alr--ht? D- you ..-ot hav- .. task..? O- -re you h-re to zz-ee Qu--n... V-zz-pa?]”
Some of the words were a bit clearer, now that she could see the body language attached, but it was still hard to decipher. “Uhhhh...” She blinked, at a loss for what to say. “Who the heck are you?” is what she blurted, after barely a moment of thought.
“Zzz... Hallowtongue?” the other bee mumbled. Okay, she could understand the word they (he?) said there, but she didn’t know what it meant. Was that what they called the common language in this place? Weird.
The larger bee shook his head and looked puzzled. “[I -m zz-e... Hive Kn---t,] er... Hi-ive Knnnight,” he stammered, struggling with Common, “[M- n-m- i-zz H--de-. -re you h-re ...fo- V-zz-pa?]” He repeated the last part of his previous question.
Vi still didn’t quite know what he wanted from her, but at least she had a title for him now. “Um. N-no? I don’t.. I dunno.” She looked away, shuffling her feet, only to flinch when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“[I-zz ok-y littl- one, zz-e Qu--n ... be ba-k zz-oon. Zz-e i-zz.. j-zzt re-zzt-ing.]”
She squinted, trying to process what he said, then glanced over at the giant corpse in the room. ...Yeah, she doubted the knight’s queen was “just resting.” Even if he wasn’t Infected, his mind clearly wasn’t all there.
“Okay, yeah, uh. Look, I just- I’m gonna leave, I just wanna go home. This place is, erm, scary, and I should- I should go. Sorry.”
The Hive Knight tilted his head at her, releasing a slightly distressed buzz. “[You... -re home? Hive i-zz ..home. I-zz zz-afe h-re, zz-afe wi--.. me.]” He seemed to think for a moment, then leaned forward, running a hand through the little honeybee’s fluff. She shivered and took a nervous step back. “[Zz--ared -f..] Innnfec..tion? [-h-re’s n-ne -n h-re. You ... zzt-ay zz-afe fr-m] Innfec-tion [r--ht ...h-re. I --ll prot-ct you.]”
Oh, great, he thought Vi was one of the bees who lived here, and he was trying to stop her from leaving. Fan-freaking-tastic. He carefully took her by the arm, and it was then that she started to really panic, pushing at his hand and trying to smack it away with the Beemerang so she could make a run for it. This upset him, but the knight wasn’t deterred. He quickly grabbed her in both hands and hugged the smaller bee to his chest, making soft, low buzzes and stroking the back of her head in an attempt to soothe her. What made it worse was the fact that it was working. Against her will, her struggles died down a little, smothered in some of the softest bee fuzz she’d ever felt.
"[I'vve ..g-t you, i-zz ok-y, I --ll k--p you... zz-afe. --n't bee zz--ared.] Zzzrrrrzzzzzzzz..." he hummed. Vi pushed weakly at the Hive Knight's chest, trying to resist nuzzling into the almost silky fur against her face. Through her antennae, she could feel the wall of fluff part somewhere just above her head. She muzzily blinked and looked up, only to squeak in fear.
The struggling kicked back up a notch as the Bugarian bee was pushed headfirst into a warm, damp cave. The knight continued buzzing around her, the sound resonating through her form as it filled his mouth. Her thrashing ceased entirely. The deep vibration and gentle pressure calmed her more than she'd ever felt before. She couldn't think past the sound, past the soothing numbness that washed over her.
The honeybee went limp, her Beemerang falling from her grasp and being delicately plucked out from the larger bee's jaws. A tunnel opened before her, and her head was pressed into it as large hands guided her legs the rest of the way into the maw. She went without protest as the Hive Knight gulped a few times, pulling her easily down into the embrace of his pinkish-yellow flesh.
The next few seconds were a blur as Vi sank through waves of blissful pressure. The buzzing began to quiet as she dropped into a soft, squishy pouch in the knight's upper abdomen. She landed in a pile of fuzzy round things, which buzzed in sleepy confusion and adjusted themselves to cuddle up to the foreign bee's sides.
Careful not to crush any Hivelings beneath her, Vi sat up and sluggishly looked around, blinking into the darkness. "Whuh.. where..?" She focused intently on what she could remember of the past minute, gasping when she pieced the fragments into a semi-complete picture. She got swallowed. Her breathing sped up as she began to paw at the walls.
"H-hey! What was that for?! Lemme out!"
Something pressed in from the outside, rubbing slowly up and down. The smaller bees nosed at her curiously, nudging her back into the middle to be buried in their collective fluff. They seemed confused as to why she would be upset, as though she were the weird one for not wanting to be eaten by a STRANGER-
A particularly small Hiveling crawled onto her chest and pushed its way into her arms. "Wh- why are you..?" They headbutted her chin with a sharp 'zzt!' that left no room for argument. She tentatively lifted a hand to scratch at their head. All the Hivelings were very calm about this, only concerned by the fact that there was a distressed bee in their midst, interrupting their nap. “Oh. Okay. Huh.”
Now that she thought about it, when she touched the walls, they didn't feel like the walls of a stomach. They weren't rippled, or overly slimy. Rather, they were smooth, and almost.. velvety? (Don't ask her how she knew what the inside of a stomach should feel like, she'd never tell.) This must've been some sort of storage pouch, or something. Of course, she didn't really think the Hive Knight would eat-eat her, let alone all these actual Hive residents, but it was a relief to be certain.
Okay, so Vi was safe, that was good, but she still needed to get back to her team. It must've been at least a few hours since she left—Kabbu was probably worrying his horn off. And Leif- well, Leif was likely fine, but they'd be sad if she were gone.
The honeybee was left with one problem. She didn't know how to get out. She could ask, but she'd been put here in the first place because she was freaking out, so she'd have to be calm when she did it. And she didn’t quite expect these other bees to believe she’d calmed down so quickly. So she’d probably have to wait a while.
It really wasn’t so bad in here, to be honest. It was incredibly cozy, and hardly as humid as she’d expect for the inside of another bug. Plus, there was a soft heartbeat somewhere behind her, and steady breathing to follow along to, and the adorable little snores of the smaller bees as they settled back to sleep... Maybe she could join them in their nap. There was something she should probably do first, though.
“Hey, um, Hive Knight?” Vi began. The knight in question buzzed an acknowledgement. “Yeah, uh, if a green beetle and blue moth come in, can you make sure they don’t get hurt? They don’t mean any harm, I promise. I know them, they don’t wanna hurt anybody. They’re friends.” After hearing out her request, the larger bee hummed in confusion, thought about it for a minute, and hesitantly agreed.
“[--ll.. giv- th-m .. -h-nce.]”
She didn’t catch most of that, but it sounded positive enough. “Thanks,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around the Hiveling still on her chest and rolling onto her side to snuggle them like a plushie. The other Hivelings continued resting against and around her on all sides, enveloping her in warmth and casual acceptance.
They may not have been related, but they still took her in as easily as one of their own. Here, she didn’t have to worry about her sisters judging her for her life decisions. Here, everything was so simple. Of course, a dead kingdom full of threats at every turn could never outmatch home, but she could perhaps see a certain appeal to it.
Maybe she’d visit again some day, after she got out.
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hgjsngfdmjnsgnf bees,,,,,,, just bees. this ended up beeing both so much longer and shorter than I expected.
hnnnggggg I guess I’ll go back and proofread.. bee-r-bee (okay I only had to make like 3 edits, this is fine)
oh yeah and Vi’s gonna be so mad about the hypnosis thing later. Leif would tease the heck out of her for it if they found out. they’re lucky it doesn’t have nearly as much of an effect on non-bees. I came up with this headcanon just for this oneshot; dunno if I’ll use it again, but it was fun to play around with.
and anon? thanks. ..for bees
Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and criticism is welcome, so long as it’s constructive/respectful. Asks are open.
—————
DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.
#ask#soft vore#safe vore#g/t vore#extreme cuddling#fearplay#hk vore#fandom vore#vore fic#my writing#tw bugs#hk spoilers#bf vore
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Time
Time is fleeting and ephemeral. It holds no justice or consequence in it's hands, minutes fly by and days last a lifetime. I found a lifetime in you. I found conversation and comfort and confidence in the hands we spent together. You didn't feel that same connection. You didn't feel the world pass us by while we were cradled in the loving embrace of a shitty old couch I bought on Facebook marketplace 4 years ago. You hated that couch but I didn't get rid of it cause it had memories of the first time we did this dance. Granted we were both much younger and more focused on other things at the time, those were still happy memories for me.
I'm not equipped to deal with how I feel. I should be, I gave myself 9 years to be equipped with the idea that things don't work out sometimes. So much time to get ready get your teeth kicked in doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't make the bleeding stop, and it doesn't cover the nerves that are now open and exposed to the air. I'm wounded and I still have to tell you to stop tossing rocks at the window you opened.
Remember when I told you that the key to someone's apartment literally represents the key to their heart? An old adage from a time long past, but I like the symbolism. Ive always connected my home to myself. There is an inextricable link between the place that I rest, and who I am. Where I spend my time doing the things I like, becoming better, where I process and I grieve and I can exist without feeling the need to perform for others. Home is where time passes on your own terms.
You took that key. Without asking you took that key, and I let you. I let you drag me out of my tower, because I wanted to let you in, and I didn't know how. So you took the lead. And I let time pass. You being sad about this ending isn't my business, but honestly? I don't really think that you are. You pulled me out from the crystalline walls I lived in, that let me watch time pass around me, without feeling it's effects, and then left me there. And God is everything so painful.
I got home yesterday and everything in my apartment reminded me of you. That nerve being jabbed when I saw the note you left on the whiteboard about the things that we planned to do together. Why did I let you talk me into a physical reminder of the plans we made. I erased it but I can still tell you almost everything that was on it cause I looked at it everyday, and that's just the way my memory works. You, intentionally or not, left things at my place and that hurt more. Continuing to take up space in my apartment, in my heart, whether intentionally or not, hurts. You made your way into my heart, intentionally or not, and you went cold, or sharp, and it stung. I don't know how I'm gonna hold you in my heart and not feel that.
I don't know how to hold that pain. Especially with you inviting me to feel it more often. You don't get to tell me you're sorry for things you don't understand you did. You can apologize for the actions all you want, but I don't care about what you did. I care about the why. And you have, in more words than this, told me that the why was that I was convenient. I was a convenient person to tell you loved, and to play house with, and to practice loving. Being entirely honest? That shit fucking sucks. After putting my heart into this, and caring about you as much as I did, to hear that I was a convenience? I was easy to love? fuck that, I deserve to be inconvenient to love. I deserve someone who doesn't ask me to tell them to do the dishes after I cook a meal. Someone that is thoughtful and conscientious and present and has the presence of mind to recognize that not only am I a person, but that love doesn't look like a straight line, and I can be cold some days, but that I still care. And that love takes time. Real, honest genuine love takes so much time.
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So I recently started dicking around on nation states again. I have very little interest in the actual RPG part....I like rpgs in theory but whenever I actually try to play i get bored really fast....
Last time I played I actually did make an attempt to interact with other players but this time around ive just been deleting all the telegrams they send me asking me to ally with them or move to their part of the world. I'm enjoying it much more. But it also helps I had a theme for my country this time around. And it was apparently enough to kick artist brain into gear for the first time in weeks cuz uhhh
I spent 14 hours (give or take) working on this
I WAS going to make it in krita but my stylus battery died and it takes an AAAA battery which I don't really have just lying around (and walmart doesn't have them in store so I couldn't just go get one).
But id spent 2 hours last night going through the star names Wikipedia picking random constellations and recording all the named stars on the list in probably the least efficient way possible but I didnt really go in with a plan...just the vague idea of using constellations and star names somehow...and I knew if I didnt continue with it I'd lose steam and never finish AND I wouldn't be able to work on literally anything else the rest of the day.
So Stellaria is made up of 10 allied states. Each state is named after a constellation. I decided I wanted to use the shapes of the constellations to make the shapes of the states. But i didnt have any particular idea as to how I wanted to have it laid out. I was pretty sure I wanted it to be an island cuz its in the south pacific so an island made sense.
My initial plan for doing it on my laptop was to just draw a shape for an island and fit the constellations into the shape wherever I could. I think that wouldve eventually morphed into what I ended up doing with paper instead. But who knows. My brain goes in weird directions sometimes.
So stylus dying set me back a bit. Spent about 20 minutes staring at my sticky notes and my laptop while also scrolling through my phone trying to find some cheap AAAA batteries while also being annoyed that I wouldn't be able to work on it at all today since I would have to order the batteries.
So ultimately I decided fuck the batteries. I'll just get all the constellations sketched out on paper and label the stars so I'll at least have an idea what im working with. Cause despite liking constellations and stars and spacey shit in general I don't actually know too much about constellations and didnt even know what a few of the ones I chose even looked like. I'd never even heard of 2 of the ones I ended up choosing. I just liked their names.
Turns out not every main star in most constellations have names. Theyre numbered. But don't have actual names that I felt could work at city/town names. And some of the ones that are named aren't a part of the main body of the constellations themselves. I debated a bit on whether I should include them. But then I thought...well...island nations are very rarely one big land mass. Those could be their own smaller islands.
Unfortunately I didnt think about that part until id already outlined a few of the constellations (with the unconnected ones included) so I ended up having to refine the shapes quite a bit. Both while I was cutting the shapes out and then again while sketching the final product. But it worked out I think.
So I had all the shapes drawn in pen in my little notebook but I had no idea how the layout was gonna work. I tore out the pages they were on and looked up some star charts to try and figure out where the constellations were in reference to each other to try and get a layout that way.
Briefly considered adding all the other constellations on the star charts as their own states cuz then I wouldnt have to think about the layout as hard and just copy the star charts exactly
Ultimately decided against doing that because finding out the locations of the stars was bad enough the first time
Tried laying out the full sheets of paper and realized it would be a lot easier to figure out a way to lay them out if I cut off the excess paper
Tried using the star charts again but still couldn't get a layout I liked
Said fuck it again and just started positioning them where I thought they looked best. Knew I wanted certain constellations to face certain directions to create peninsulas and needed the smaller islands to actually be in water instead of touching another state. Found a layout I liked and realized i needed some paper to draw the rough draft on. In krita I had my canvas size set to the average poster size but I dont have paper that big so I had to dig through my sketchbook drawer to find something that would be a decent size. Ended up going with a large pad of Bristol board cuz I was starting to think I should maybe color code the states to keep track of all the little islands better so I wanted something kinda heavy duty since I wasn't sure what I was gonna use to color code them.
At first I just tried copying the outlines of the states id done earlier but I was having a hard time keeping track of which shape was which so I decided to erase everything I had and draw the constellations themselves first and then go back and add in the borders and coastlines after i sketched in the constellations. This worked much better.
I think im gonna make the unnamed stars in the main bodies of the constellations important landmarks. Eventually id like to flesh out the map more with bus routes and train track...hiking trails..bridges and main roads and all that stuff
Next on the agenda is gonna be creating a flag (im using the romanian flag on nation states right now. And also designing the currency. Theres a lot of general type stuff I need to do too but im gonna wait till ive been playing the game a bit longer so my country is a bit more establisbed
Anyway. Here's some more information on stellaria (spelled stelleria on the site cuz stellaria was taken.
Im not sure what I chose to make the police well funded but whatever. I mostly just like looking at my nation's stats and watching how different things affects them.
#i also wanna include the mythology surrounding the constellations some how#anyway#its 3am#i am tired#goodnight gay people in my phone
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Honey
This was written for @starrynightdeancas‘ 2k celebration (congrats!!), based off the prompt “wings”
Summary: When using a human vessel, Cas' moulting wings get uncomfortable, but Dean does what he can to ease the discomfort.
Read on ao3
Dean sat propped up against the headboard, watching Cas’ back as he started to undress. It was one of the small routines that had bled into their daily lives. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d seen Cas change, and he was confident in thinking it wouldn’t be the last either, but there was something in the way he shed the layers of the day that Dean would never tire of.
The trench coat came off first, hung on the back of the door, then the suit jacket, put neatly over the back of the chair behind the door. Cas met his eye as he took off his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. Dean broke contact, eyes lazily following Cas’ hands as they exposed more and more tan skin. He met Cas’ eyes again and winked.
“What’s that phrase again?” Cas asked, pausing his movements. “Oh. Take a picture, it will last longer.”
“What’s the point of that when I have the real thing right here, every night?” Dean asked, patting the space next to him. Cas folded his shirt and placed it over his jacket, his slacks soon following.
“You know you don’t have to, Dean.” His voice was soft and forgiving. It said ‘I know you don’t like doing this. I know you have better things to be doing’, but he didn't know. Dean found comfort in knowing that even without the ability to heal him with a single touch or click of the fingers, he was able to make Cas more comfortable.
“But have you considered I want to?” Dean grabbed the honey moisturiser from his bedside table. He had brought it especially for him. It was the good shit too, manuka honey.
Cas tilted his head when he saw it, eyebrows furrowed as he tugged on his bumblebee pajama pants. “I know it’s gross, you don’t have to pretend.”
“Stop actin’ like you can read my mind Cas, you’re doing a pretty shit job at it.”
Cas rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed anyway, giving Dean a clear view of his back as he moved in behind him. The skin around his shoulder blades definitely looked worse than it had that morning, red, raw, and peeling; it always got worse before it got better. It was still the early days.
He could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for Cas.
Turns out that’s how an angel’s moulting wings present themselves in a human vessel. Cas tried hard to hide it from him too, but like all secrets, it eventually came to light. The first time he’d seen it, his skin was cracked and bleeding. Sometimes it still got bad, but Cas assured him that doing this helped.
“Gimme your hand,” Dean said, popping the cap of the moisturiser. He put some on Cas’ hand, waiting for him to rub it in, smiling at the little happy hum he made. He was always beautiful but at times like this he was gorgeous.
He spread a generous amount of it between his palms before smoothing it over Cas’ back, his skin hot under his touch. Cas leaned into him, a small sigh escaping his lips. Dean carefully massaged it into his shoulders and back, paying special attention to the dry skin around the edges, the tension slowly leaving his body.
They fell into a steady rhythm, the inaudible mumble of enochian that left Cas’ lips keeping Dean out of his head and grounded. He lost track of time, relishing in Cas’ gentle voice and the way he felt beneath him, so relaxed and pliable. Eventually, Dean’s hands came to a stop, running down over Cas’ sides, one hand slowing to sit over his enochian tattoo, while the other stopped to rest at his hip. He leaned forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.
“There you go, buddy.”
Cas turned and placed a kiss over Dean’s anti possession tattoo in return. “Thank you, Dean.”
#dailydestieldelights#destiel#castiel#dean winchester#spn#supernatural#destiel fic#mine#my writing#my fic#fic#congrats on 2k!!#Ive had this idea kicking around my notes for a while so i thought this was the perfect excuse to write it :)
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harmless (vi)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit
Word count: 1.9k
A/N: BUCKY BARNES IS BACK AND HAS A CONFIRMED PERSONALITY
also omg everyone who’s been sending me ideas- ur the lomls.
if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Previous Part || Series Masterlist
Your place or mine? ;)
He stares at the text.
The right answer is mine. See you at the lair.
“Y’all are dating now?” Clint peeks over his shoulder.
“Fuck no,” Bucky says indignantly. “God forbid.”
“Okay, man,” he retracts, giving Bucky space to turn around and face him. “What do you want to call your mini dates then?”
“Missions,” Bucky corrects him.
“No one wants to go on a mission. You volunteered to go back there.”
“It’s for the good of the tristate area.”
“I bet.” The snort he lets out contradicts his words. “Whole world is depending on you, Barnes. Go save them from the treachery of your crush.”
“Enemy.”
“Girlfriend.”
“Mortal nemesis.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Go further, I dare you.”
“What are you gonna do? Choke me? Punch me with your metal arm?” Clint cranes his neck. “Bring it, big boy. I’m not scared of some kinky shit.”
He hates living here.
The door is left open for him.
This time, even though the lair is still illuminated by the green light out in the front, there’s a minor change. Sunlight streams in through a skylight in the roof.
There’s a ladder there, leaning against the rim. It gives him an entrance to the roof, which, judging by the lack of any other presence in the lab, is where he’s supposed to go.
As he gets closer he notices there’s a note on one of the rungs.
‘Evil’ with an arrow pointing upwards.
He rolls his eyes, discarding it on the floor before swiftly scaling the steps.
“Ah, Mr. Barnes,” he hears your voice call out even before his head pops up above the surface. “We’ve been expecting you.”
He pauses, looking around. “Who’s with you?”
Because other than the gigantic machine pointed up towards the sky, there’s only you with a visor and sunglasses. The best way he can describe its design was that it was shaped like a pine cone, had a large antenna pointed towards the sky, two handlebars near its base to manoeuvre it with a large button in between them.
“Just imagine I have my henchmen with me,” you urge. “I’m on a budget, man, I can’t afford them yet. Maybe when my cloning machine finally works-”
He doesn’t answer.
“It’s a James Bond reference,” you add when he doesn’t show any signs of answering.
“Haven’t watched it yet.” Bucky shrugs. “We’re doing Star Trek right now.”
“You’re done with Star Wars?” you, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Nice. You’d find the spy shit ridiculous anyway, it’s way below your level.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He makes a mental note to add the Bond movies to the list.
“Speaking of stars,” you begin, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to harness the power of the sun.”
“For what?” He doesn’t bother asking how, he already knows you’ve figured out something.
“There’s a science exhibition and my team’s stupid solar car experiment isn’t working and I need it for them to win.”
“So build a better one.”
“No, ours is the best and if Jeff and his stupid baking soda volcano beat us then we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”
“Your hands,” he emphasises. He has nothing to do with this.
“I said what I said, boy.” You glare at him. “This is our problem now.”
“How much power are you taking?” If it’s insignificant enough, it wouldn’t matter much. He thinks.
“The whole thing.”
He laughs. He stops when you don’t.
“You’re taking all the energy of the sun to power your shitty science model.”
“Your face is a shitty science model,” you mimic him in a higher pitched voice. “I will do anything to win.”
He wonders which grade kid you stole that insult from was in. There’s no way they were anything older than 13. He could use it on Steve, maybe.
“Everyone on Earth will die.” He feels the need to remind you, even though there was no way it was actually going to take place. Eat shit, Clint. This superseded the tristate area.
“Not for eight minutes.” You look at your watch. “And, if Jeff dies then I win by default.”
“You’ll die too,” he points out.
“I’ll die a winner.” You nod seriously as if that makes it better.
He’s not that worried. Experience tells him that you’re not a mass murderer willingly.
“You’ll die an idiot.”
“Only if you don’t stop me.” Your lips curve into a smile. “And how will you when I do this?”
You yank the machine to point towards him and slam the button. His hand reflectively pulls in front of him to defend himself. Something hits him with enough force to send him skidding backwards slightly.
He removes his hand carefully from in front of him, looking at you.
Something feels off.
“You just-”
The knives strapped to his thighs suddenly feel heavier.
“Took your powers?” you finish his thought. “Yeah.”
He feels his body tip towards his left. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of the arm. Had it been this heavy all this while?
“You’ve barely changed,” you noted, “You’re just regular Bucky but like, 20% less beef.”
After all, he was a boxer when he was a teen. One of the best men the Howling Commandos had even before the serum.
His shoulder feels heavier though. And somehow he thinks he’s sensing things a little less. He can’t really hear the faint buzzing of the generator downstairs anymore.
“Yep, that’s real muscle.” He turns when you poke at his shoulder. He doesn’t know when you got there. “You’re like a modern day Schwarzenegger. Grade A beefcake.”
He can’t see the construction site near the horizon as clearly as he used to.
Something about this situation makes him feel like he’s going to have a midlife crisis, even though he’s overshot the age by a huge number. No one has a midlife crisis at 106.
“Now that we’ve established that this works,” you say, back near the machine again. When did you walk there? “Let’s show this bitch that I’m the brightest star allowed in this solar system.”
He shakes his head to jolt himself awake, shoves aside his mental dysfunction and breaks out into a sprint when you pull the device down to aim it at the sky.
He latches onto the side, using his left hand to pull himself up, straddling the machine.
“Excuse me,” you exclaim like it’s a minor inconvenience and he feels the machine sway wildly under him. “You’re weighing it down, get off my inator.”
You’re shooting recklessly, trying to shake him off. It’s not dissimilar to the mechanical bull Natasha made him ride during a mission down south so she could win money off placing bets on him. They had lobster that night.
He reaches down to its side, hoping to feel maybe a panel he can rip off. He finds nothing.
He hopes none of the rays are actually hitting anything. It’s a little harder to stay on than he’d imagined it would be, and he thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best plan.
He changes his mind in a split second, swinging himself over so that he can climb the underside of the machine like a monkey bar. He feels like a fucking insect. How was Peter not mortally embarrassed?
He factors in the fact that his hands are getting clammier and his grip is slipping faster than usual. Also, he can taste his lunch at the back of his throat.
“Motherfucker,” Bucky curses when his hand slips, leaving him to hold on only by his metal arm.
“You okay?” you call out, not giving him a second to recover unless he really needed it.
He lets out a grunt, swinging his arm up and catching hold of the antenna, yanking it down and towards the machine itself. He pulls himself up so that he’s straddling the machine again.
One more shot and-
“Very smart, Barnes,” you say dryly, letting go of the handles.
He sends you a sly grin before sliding down the barrel, kicking the large button with his heel right before he jumps off.
The beam shoots out, instantly meeting with metal. The device automatically gives a mechanical groan before powering down, turning off altogether.
“I hate you,” you huff, before noting his paleness. “D’you want some water? An IV maybe?”
He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.
He’s tired, more so than he would have been under any normal circumstance. He feels a little dizzy, a little disoriented.
“Don’t worry, your magic powers will be back in a few minutes or so.” You examine the bent antenna, pressing the button and sighing when it stands there lifelessly. “Once Jeff wins, I’ll send the dry cleaning receipt to you. You can pay to get the tear stains out of the kids’ outfits.”
“Your tears or theirs?” He’s relieved about the powers returning, he thinks.
“Both, bitch.” Your eyebrow quirks at his retort. Clearly, he had more energy in him than people realised; his brain seemed to be working fine. He was stronger than you thought. Good for him.
“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” He lets out a final exhale before standing up a little straighter.
“Thanks. It’d be better if you asked your billionaire tech genius to send us something, but okay.”
“It’s a middle school science exhibition. Make a potato battery or something.”
You tsk-tsk. “No points for creativity, Mr. Barnes.”
It creeps into his mind without warning. He wonders if he actually wanted the powers back. Wonders what his life could be if he maybe retired, settled down. For the brief time he feels like his pre-war self, he starts to think like his pre-war self.
“I’m not the one who’s about to lose to a baking soda volcano,” he finds time to respond, however.
“Your face is a baking soda volcano.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I will not lose.”
“You’re running out of time. Chop chop.”
But the thought hits him. Who is Bucky without his super soldier serum? If he doesn’t have his powers then he can’t think of what use he is to the Avengers.
Who the hell is Bucky if he can’t provide a service to others? How else does he make up for being himself?
His, what he’s now deemed, afterlife crisis is starting to look more apparent.
He compartmentalises and stores it away in a box. He’ll bring it up with his therapist later.
“I’m going to win and then you’ll be sorry you weren’t a part of it because you didn’t let me steal the sun.”
“If you win, I’ll still be glad I didn’t let you.” He climbs back down the ladder, feeling the ache in his muscles reduce with every passing minute.
True to your word, his powers do return a while later.
And while he’s watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter in the living room two days later, his phone beeps with a text.
It’s a picture of a blue first place ribbon next to a toy car that looks like it’s powered by a potato battery. Beside it is an out of focus middle finger that is aimed at him.
Congratulations, he texts back. Told you potato batteries always win.
Your face always wins, he receives in return. He can’t tell if you’re insulting or flirting with him.
He just shuts his phone off and goes back to watching the show.
Next part
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#mcu fic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#harmless fic#winter soldier x reader#Winter Soldier#bucky barnes#bucky
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Hi!! I would like to request something angsty, a headcanon/drabble/fic about Izana and an older sister reader, she taught him (and maybe kakucho too) everything about delinquents alongside Shinichiro. She took all the bullets that was meant for Izana, it's your choice if you want reader to survive or not. Thank you and good luck on your interview!!
Why does everyone want to break my heart with these angst requests? 😭💔 But I do like the idea so it shall be written!
A note about the reader. I am thinking of her as more a fellow orphan who is seen as the older sister figure to the younger orphans, mainly by Izana. After all, the bond between orphans means more than anything and that's the only way I can see Izana reacting but not Mikey. Sorry if that's not what you wanted...
Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it!!
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Izana with an older sister!reader who protects them (angst)
TW: mentions of violence, gun shots, blood, mourning, canon divergence, manga spoilers
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You had been a constant in Izana's life. When he had first been left at the orphanage, you had taken him under your wing like you had with every other child that turned up. It was mainly because you had been at the orphanage the longest and so knew what it felt like to just suddenly end up there.
Izana was hesitant to get close to you in the beginning, especially since you were a bit intimidating. You were only two years older than the blond boy yet you had probably experienced a lot more than he had.
It was only when he saw you fighting off a gang of middle school boys that were bullying him, did he want to get close to you. He thought you were amazing in that moment. The way you kicked at the boys had him wanting to learn how to fight like that. And so, he would ask you to teach him.
From there, the two of you created a strong bond. And when Kakucho had arrived at the orphanage, Izana had dragged him into the lessons you would give. Through the lessons, you would explain how you had once met an older boy who had told you all about the ways of a delinquent and how that had influenced your decisions.
The boys would follow you around, doing their best to keep you safe. After all, you had quickly become an older sister to them both and they refused to let anything happen to their older sister. They had even showed your their secret plans for the kingdom they were going to make, saying how you would be in charge of keeping it safe. Izana was the king, Kakucho was the servant, and you were the protector.
It was when Shinichiro turned up out of the blue to talk to Izana that had made a slight rift in your relationship with him. He would actively seek out his big brother instead of you, something that both made you happy for him yet broke your heart a little. After all, you had been with him since he was a young child and had taught him what you could.
Shinichiro had expressed his gratitude for you helping raise Izana. You simply explained that's just how it was and that promised the older boy that you would protect his younger brother with your life. Over the months, you had gotten close to Shinichiro and learnt new ways in which to follow the true delinquent path.
Years had passed and a lot of things had changed. Shinichiro had died, Izana and Kakucho had formed their kingdom, and a strange boy of the name Kisaki had entered the lives of your brothers. While you questioned some of their new friend choices, you remained with Izana. After all, an older sister was meant to protect their younger siblings with their life if needs be.
Now you were standing a little behind Izana as you both watched the battle that was happening below. 50 members of Toman were going against the kingdom of Tenjiku, being led by a boy that reminded you so much of Shinichiro it was crazy. Kakucho was currently fighting him but it was proving difficult to knock him down. You really couldn't help but admire the blond for not giving up even when his face was swelling and covered in blood.
Kisaki must have had enough as he had finally gotten down from the platforms. You were uninterested until a gun had been pulled out. Wasn't this a simple brawl? Why the hell would Kisaki bring a gun? After noticing it, you couldn't shake the bad feeling that filled your chest. Something was definitely going to happen with that gun being here.
Kisaki shot the blond boy in the foot, and yet he still didn't give up. That is what piqued your interest even more. It was as if the spirit of Shinichiro Sano was placed into that boy after his untimely death. Tears were threatening to fill your eyes as memories danced throughout your mind. You almost missed Izana standing up from where he sat.
You quickly followed Izana down to the battlefield, remaining just a little way behind him. After all, he was the king and you were simply his protector. It was all going well until another gunshot rang out. You turned your head only to find Kakucho bleeding from his shoulder.
Anger clouded your judgement. How dare that piece of trash shoot at one of your brothers?! However, your mind went blank as you saw Kisaki go to pull the trigger again. Izana had pushed Kakucho out of the way while you covered the younger male with your body. There was no way you were letting harm come to Izana. After all, he was your life.
Three bullets entered your body.
Everything went in slow motion for the three siblings. Kakucho watched in horror as the scene played out. Izana was confused on why he felt no physical pain until he looked up to find you smiling down at him. Blood was trickling down your chin, dripping to the ground below.
"Y-Y/N?" If your mind wasn't screaming at your pain, you would have tried to comfort the poor boy in front of you. Instead, you used your energy to simply keep that smile on your face as you fell forward.
Izana couldn't catch you. His body was frozen and he was panicking. You and Kakucho were his only family and you were both bleeding from gunshot wounds. He didn't know what to do except shout for someone, anyone to call an ambulance. Maybe they could save you!
"Izana..." The boy had to kneel down and lean close just to hear you. "I'm so glad you're safe. I don't know what I would have done if you got hurt." Your words were separated with heavy breathes. If this was anything to go by, you were about to leave this world at any moment.
Kakucho had crawled his way over to where you and Izana was, tears flowing easily down his cheeks. He had to be there for Izana, even if it was too painful seeing you in that state.
"Why did you do that?" The platinum blond croaked out, trying his hardest to push the lump in his throat down. He refused to cry, especially when you were the one in immense pain. Izana had to be strong for you.
"Because I am your older sister. That's what we do." With that, you had gone silent, a smile on your paling face. It was moments after that the paramedics had arrived. Kakucho and you were placed into the back of the ambulance while Izana followed Kakucho. He needed his friend to comfort him.
Hours had passed by since arriving at the hospital. Kakucho was fine, he just needed a few stitches and some IV fluids to rehydrate him. The doctors had delivered some bad news to the boys. You had not made it.
No-one spoke as the news set in. You had died. The protector of the kingdom of Tenjiku. The one who had practically raised them. The girl who welcomed them with open arms when they arrived at the orphanage. You were gone.
Izana didn't know how to handle the news. He felt like his world was crumbling around him. Why had you saved him?! But that's when your last words popped into his head. Why did every older sibling end up leaving him before their time?
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers izana#izana kurokawa#anime drabble#tokyo revengers scenarios#angst#requested
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Sugar, sugar
(genuinely hate coming up with titles lol)
this is just rowaelin being pining idiots, one of my fave tropes for day 11--delayed love confession
just a note, the lifestyle in this fic is more of a background note and doesnt really take centre stage in this fic. it’s one ive been tempted to write for a while tbh but didnt really get around to it until now
cw: very, very light smut (like barely non existent, but just in case), a lil bit of swearing
enjoy! :)
3k words (officially my longest fic, yay!)
Every thought in Aelin's mind was blank. She trudged through her apartment that she shared with Nehemia, absentmindedly kicking off her heels that Rowan purchased for her months ago. Then the light jacket she wore joined the shoes, the fabric was perfectly soft and perfect for the autumn chill.
It was yet another piece of item that Rowan purchased for her. A lot of the things she had know were thanks to Rowan, either from his own wallet or from the biweekly allowance he sent her—a generous allowance that was a thousand times better than her weekly paycheck from the bookstore she'd been working at since she turned twenty-two; her business degree had turned out to be useless and so she turned to the bookstore that had been her stable job for three years.
Aelin barely touched her weekly wage now, it was practically buried underneath the money the Rowan gave her.
Because Rowan Whitethorn, thirty-five and a successful CEO who was well known, was her sugar daddy. Had been now for fourteen months. But he was more than that, more than just a man that paid her to spend time with him. He respected her, was loyal to her, listened to her and responded with actual sentences instead of a word or two like other men she had dated. He was charming, didn't treat her like she was nothing but arm candy, and she knew him so well, as he knew her, and each fortnight she sometimes forgot their whole arrangement, but she was sharply reminded when she received the notification from her bank that the two and a half thousand dollars that Rowan sent her was now in her savings account.
When she agreed to their arrangement after several get-to-know you dates, Rowan had wanted to give her three and a half grand every week, and gods Aelin had been tempted because she had never had so much money in her life, but told him that it was far too much and negotiated.
Two and a half thousand was the lowest that Rowan was willing to go, and even though Aelin only knew him for two weeks at that point, she could tell that he would not budge, so she agreed to the amount.
The first time that money had landed in her account, Aelin had thought that maybe she had imagined the whole thing, but the money was a sharp reminder of what she know was—a sugar baby. Those words still didn't feel like they applied to her.
And he still spent money on her when they spent time together. Just last week he gifted her with diamond earrings in the shapes of roses with a necklace to match. She wore them tonight, not because he bought them for her but because she genuinely loved the pieces.
Needing something sweet—despite the fact she had only finished her chocolate hazelnut gelato twenty minutes ago—she dug through her fridge and found the brownies that Nehemia had baked the other day. She told herself that she would leave some for her long-time friend, but Aelin really doubted that would happen.
Aelin relished in the cold air of the fridge as she found the new can of whipped cream on the top shelf. The fridge was one of the first things she purchased with the money she was now being gifted with (and after that came a new washer and dryer, a dish-washing machine and television. Almost everything in her apartment was brand new now, the food were actual brands instead of the generic, tasteless shit. She had bras that fit her properly and were so damned comfortable that she forgot she was wearing them half the time).
The old fridge was a cheap hunk of junk that she and Nehemia purchased off Facebook marketplace for a hundred dollars, it barely kept things cold, but with expensive rent and bills and general life things, Nehemia and her couldn't afford anything better.
Which was how she ended up in this situation. Picking up more shifts barely gave them anything extra, because the economy right now in Terrasen was shit. Nehemia had made a joke about needing sugar daddies, and Aelin, knowing that Nehemia could never really do such a thing, had decided that maybe it was a good idea.
Nehemia had told Aelin that she was insane for pursuing such a thing, and that she had only been joking, but Aelin was not and that she could handle herself if things went wrong.
Nehemia had told her not to do anything, but Aelin was determined and started her search. It had taken a while to find a website that was genuine and didn't make her feel like she had to scrub her eyes out with bleach.
She created her page in private, because she not only was Nehemia against the idea, but so was Elide and Lysandra—she didn't dare tell Aedion what she was doing. Her cousin could be an overprotective pain in her ass at times, and Aelin was very well aware that if Aedion caught wind of what she was doing, he would have locked her up in her room without any type of device so she couldn't go forward with her plan.
She appreciated their concern, she did, but she was a consenting, tax-paying adult, and if she wanted to use her time to get paid spending time with a rich man, then Aelin was allowed to do exactly that.
It wasn't prostitution, she had looked it up, because it was the sugar babies that had the power and so that was how it went with her and Rowan.
Aelin didn't even have sex with Rowan until it was the sixth month anniversary of her and Rowan's...relationship (and gods, it was the best sex Aelin ever had. Rowan was a generous and completely unselfish lover).
He was the first one she came across on the site and almost drooled down herself when she saw his picture. Silver hair, pine-green eyes, a beautiful tattoo down the length of his left arm and tanned skin, he was stupidly attractive and only ten years old than her.
Aelin messaged him first only after being on the site for ten minutes, deciding that surely he was the best one and that she needn't bother to look at any other candidates.
They hit it off straight away, and after deciding on a restaurant to meet at, Aelin had informed Nehemia of the matter, which she was promptly met with question after question: why can't a thirty-four year old man find someone his own age? Is he one of those men that can't date a woman five minutes older than him because of some stupid made up reason? How do you know for certain that it's him in the picture? What if he's cat-fishing you? What if he's a freak, or a killer? What if he's just pretending to be rich to kidnap you? What if, what if, what if?
And so after a heated discussion, Nehemia had come along on her date-that-wasn't-really-a-date and sat a few tables away from her and Rowan, watching them—especially him—the entire time like a hawk.
Aelin had completely forgotten that her friend was there, so enraptured by Rowan and what he did and how he saw life.
It had been fourteen months of seeing Rowan and genuinely enjoying spending time with him and weeks ago, she realised that she wanted it to be something more. That she had come to care for him, not because of the money, but purely because it was Rowan and he made her feel seen and he wasn't afraid of her, because she had once been told by an ex that she could be too much and that he couldn't handle all her baggage.
Aelin wanted a life with him.
So Aelin told Rowan she loved him when he dropped her off tonight after their dinner and a movie date, telling him how she felt, and he had said thank you. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and went home, leaving behind the pine-and-snow scent of him.
Aelin really wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die.
She was scarfing down her third brownie when Nehemia's bedroom door opened, her friend clad in an old matching pj set, her slippers shuffling across the tile.
“What happened? Are you okay?” her friend asked upon seeing Aelin's guttered look. Her dark brows furrowed. “Did that bastard hurt you? If he did, I'll—”
“He didn't do anything,” Aelin interrupted her friend. Taking the food, Aelin planted herself on the teal blue velvet sofa Rowan gave her for Yulemas last year, ignoring the scent of not just him, but of them both from when he came over after work just the other day with pizza and a DVD that she insisted that she watched because it was too good not to, when they forgot all about the movie as Rowan buried himself inside her, leaving hickeys all over her neck that she had to cover up with thick concealer.
Nehemia joined her on the couch, her friend momentarily forgetting for now that she had walked in on her and Rowan just moments after they finished, muttering under her breath in Eyllwe as she glared at them defiling the couch, and gave her a look that Aelin knew that Nehemia would listen to every word that came out from her.
And when Aelin was done recounting the story, all Nehemia could come up with was, “Oh.”
“Yes, 'oh,'. I've probably fucked up the whole thing. So don't be surprised if I call you on your lunch break tomorrow telling you he's broken things off.”
“Aelin, I don't think he will. I know that I'm not the biggest fan of your...situation—”
“I'm aware,” Aelin said, cutting her friend off. “You still won't let me buy you a new mattress, even though yours is hard as a brick and lumpy as hell. I've told you that you can pay me—”
“Aelin,” Nehemia said, “we're not talking about mattresses right now. As I was saying, I doubt he'll break things off because I've seen the way he looks at you. I still think he's too old for you, but he cares for you. You probably just caught him by surprise.”
“How does he look at me?” Aelin was observant, but sometimes when she was with Rowan, all her observation skills went out the window.
“Like he loves you,” Nehemia said, no hint of doubt in her voice.
Aelin sighed, her feelings slowly starting to crush her. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”
Sighing once more, Aelin put the food back in the fridge, showered and went to bed, forgoing her usual night texting ritual with Rowan.
She really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.
X X X X X X
Rowan couldn't concentrate, which wasn't a good thing, since his job dealt with having to concentrate all the time. But no matter what mind-focusing techniques he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Aelin.
Couldn't stop thinking about how she said she was in love with him. How her beautiful eyes had been sparkling when she said those words to him. And how the light in them dimmed when he said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, telling her that he would talk to her later. But he hadn't texted her, nor did she.
I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.
Thank you. He really couldn't believe that was what he said. Felt like an utter fool and a bastard as he realised he probably crushed her heart. Aelin didn't like being vulnerable, and she had been when she said those words and he had gone and fucked it all up.
Rowan loved Aelin, he did, but he truly wasn't prepared for those words. He loved how on the weekends they would be up at one am, baking chocolate goodies, dancing in the quiet kitchen, humming quietly to Aelin's classical music playlist, with her wearing not the nightgowns that he loved, but one of his old hoodies.
He didn't think that he would get along with her so well once they met, thinking that their online interactions were nothing but a fluke. He was moments away from deleting the profile because he didn't actually create it, but Fenrys had, his friend grumbling that he needed a girlfriend, with Rowan arguing that creating a profile on a sugar daddy site was not dating but probably the opposite, when Aelin messaged him.
His life-long friend didn't listen, much to Rowan's annoyance—but he didn't grab his phone out of his friends hand; Rowan blamed it on the several whiskys he had downed by that point.
Aelin bewitched him on that first meet up. She was intelligent as hell and funny, and creative and beautiful. He was aware of why she was on the date with him, but he didn't care, just as long as he got to see her again.
Fourteen months later and Rowan was still bewitched. He wanted to be with her on a permanent basis, but wasn't completely sure how to take that step.
Clearly, Aelin had taken that step for them, and Rowan was the worlds biggest moron.
I love you, Rowan. I'm in love with you.
Thank you.
Groaning, Rowan turned away from his computer and looked at the skyline, ignoring the buildings to instead watch the puffy clouds drift by.
Aelin loved watching the clouds, loved stargazing, loved questioning about the universe and what the skies held.
He never really paid any of that stuff attention, not until he met her.
Rowan didn't want to lose her, didn't want her to think that he was about to break up with her over this. He had to see her, so he grabbed his keys and wallet, told his secretary to hold his calls for the rest of the day, and went to visit Aelin.
X X X X X X
It had been an usually busy day for a Wednesday and Aelin was glad for her lunch break as she trudged up to the roof of the shopping centre. She wasn't really allowed up here, but she wanted some fresh air and to feel the sun against her skin as she sat down and dug into her lunch—fast food, unfortunately for her, because she was so frazzled from last night that she completely forgot about making a pack lunch.
Rowan hadn't called her, or texted her. Not even an email had been sent her way.
Aelin hated that she felt so damned mopey. She was an independent woman, but gods, even a good morning text would have been fine.
She finished her lunch, popping several mints into her mouth to get rid of the onion taste, when the roof door crashed open and a familiar hulking figure came into view.
He must have spoken to Elide to find her here.
Aelin's brow furrowed. “Rowan, what are you doing here?” Oh gods, surely he wasn't going to break up with her, she still had hours to go; there'd be no way she could work if she had tears in her eyes.
Taking her hands in his, Aelin stood up. She steeled herself against whatever he was going to say.
“I love you, Aelin. I'm in love with you, too,” Rowan said, his eyes soft and full of genuine love. Aelin's heart shot up into her throat. “I want a life with you. I want us to buy a home, one that has warmth and character, and a big garden. I want a dog. And kids too, if you want, I know that you've never mentioned it, but if you don't want any then that is completely fine. I want to support you in whatever endeavors you want to take, and if you ever want to go back to university, then I'll support you, or if you want to find a way to use your business degree, I'll help you with that, too. Whatever you want Aelin, I'll give it to you, as long as you're by my side, I'll be happy.”
Aelin was silent for so long that Rowan thought that maybe he shocked her into silence. But eventually, she smiled, one that was dazzling in its beauty that it took his breath away.
“You love me?”
“I do, Aelin, I love you.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
Rowan groaned at the amusement in her tone, in her eyes. “You're never going to let me live that down, are you?”
She smirked. “Definitely not. It'll be a nice story to tell our children...one day. For now, I think we should contend with being proper significant others.”
Rowan nodded, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good, because I need to get back to work, since I'm no longer accepting your allowances. I won't deny the use of your credit card, but other than that, you are no longer my sugar daddy.”
It was Rowan's turned to smirk, and it was the one that made her core clench. “How about I be 'daddy' instead?”
Aelin snorted, even as she clenched around nothing again. Smacking his arm lightly, Aelin kissed him. “Only if you behave,” she said against his lips, “and now I really need to go back to work.”
Rowan walked her back, their fingers laced together, and as she turned to say goodbye, Aelin said, “I'll see you later, daddy.”
Rowan groaned, and it took everything in him not to take her hand and into his car to have his wicked way with her.
By the time he thought of a response, Aelin was already back to work, helping a customer with an impressive stack of books in her arms.
But she knew he was still there, because the way she swayed her hips to the counter was all for him, and when she saw him watching her, Aelin winked, making Rowan's heart flutter in his chest.
He really did love her. And he would live with her teasing him for the rest of his life, just as long as she was with him.
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