#and they already have a lot of holes and stitches in them lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aethersea · 4 days

Text

I've always wanted to learn bookbinding, ever since I was a wee little nerd, but there are a lot of things I've always wanted to learn, and this one has both a daunting upfront materials cost and a daunting upfront research cost. however, my sister is a jewel among siblings and gave me for christmas last year a handy dandy bookbinding manual, a block of good paper, and a little bag of tools.

but I still didn't have a suitable workspace, nor any of the many important tools and materials that she didn't include in her gift. so I just read the manual and pined. until maybe a month ago I got fed up with pining, flattened a cardboard box for a cutting mat, and went to town.

and I'm real proud of myself, so here's me rambling, plus photos!

I went to the thrift store and got glue + some fabric to bind the cover, went to Michaels for a paintbrush (and later went back for a metal ruler lmao it's amazing how useful it is to have a straightedge for cutting the paper), and...could not find material for the cover boards. so I went home and pined some more. but the urges were too strong, so after a couple hours of moping I got a stack of printer paper at the grocery store (I could not bring myself to use the good paper for my first, inevitably weak attempts, I just couldn't do it) and started making a little booklet. which was a great idea, it turned out, since it makes for good practice with cutting the paper, measuring things, punching holes in the signatures, etc.

I have a big box of greeting cards from Michaels, which I used for the covers. it didn't feel like I was making a Real Book, so I got some colored paper from the stationery store and used that for end papers.

so fancy~

galvanized by this success, I ordered a stack of chipboard online to use for cover boards; and once I was confident that I could cut paper without making it look too stupid (getting that straightedge ruler sure helped lol), I made signatures out of the good paper, left them under some heavy books overnight since I don't have a book press, and then punched holes in them! (huzzah for this nice video on getting the holes right)

my sister's gift included good linen thread. it's unwaxed, but after some poking around on r/bookbinding it looks like that just means I'll have to be more careful to avoid tangles and keep good tension. I am fine with this. I can be extra attentive. (I considered just running it over a beeswax candle, but one commenter said if your wax has paraffin in it, it could melt in a hot car, ruining the spine. I can't guarantee my candle is 100% beeswax, I didn't make it, so maybe we just move on.)

I don't have good linen fabric to use for the tapes, but the important part there is that the fabric be thin, sturdy, and not stretchy. the probably-cotton I got from the thrift store fits the bill, so it'll do!

this is a french link stitch, which I got from this exceedingly good tutorial. apparently it's strong enough on its own that for a book of this size, I don't actually need tapes, but I'd already cut the things so eh here we are. and tapes plus french link will make it a stronger binding still (according to a friendly redditor on r/bookbinding), so we carry on.

specifically we carry on to the gluing step. now as I mentioned, I do not have a book press, and you....kinda need one for this step. you need to hold the book block in place with the signatures facing upwards, pressed together hard enough that the glue won't run down between them and stick the pages together (though you do want the glue to get between them just a little, just for like a 16th of an inch). you at least need some clamps and a couple boards to sandwich the book block with.

but you know what? I'm not a professional, this is my first ever book, if it's a little bit off it'll be fine. so we grab all the heaviest books off the bookshelf and improvise.

it's fine! I'm sure it's fine! and just in case it's not, I've tucked a bit of cardboard underneath to catch any glue that drips down so it won't land on the floor. see? I'm prepared! I'm acing this.

and actually, it really was fine. I used clear elmer's glue, applied with a flat paintbrush from the art supplies aisle at Michael's, and frankly I liked the way the flat paintbrush let me slip glue in between the signatures. I did poke around on a couple bookbinding sites to see what kind of glue I should use, and the gist is that although there are better options than this, elmer's glue is perfectly serviceable, and the main downside is it's not archival grade. but I don't need my first bookbinding attempts to last 200 years, that's fine.

the next step is to add the mull. mull is a specific type of fabric – extremely loose-weave linen – and the idea is to paste it down over the spine to essentially hold the tapes and signatures all in place in relation to each other.

but I don't have mull! so I'm using more of the thrift store probably-cotton, because it's thin enough and not really stretchy at all. I'm sure this will be fine too. I painted a layer of glue onto the spine, then left it to dry a bit while I measured and cut the fabric, then painted a generous stripe of glue down the center, where it'll affix onto the spine. then I added a bit more glue to the spine, just to be sure, and pressed the mull into place, rubbing it thoroughly to make sure it's firmly affixed to every signature, with no creases in the fabric or air bubbles beneath it.

honestly I might have overdone it on the glue. I've never done this before, I don't know! I think it's okay, though – I tried not to ever let it become a thick layer, just a slight coating, since the danger of too much glue is that it might crack once dry and weaken the spine.

and now we leave it in the press overnight to dry, and pick up the next step in the morning!

#finx rambles #bookbinding #finx makes stuff #technically this is the second hardcover book I've made #but it's the first I'm making using Approved Techniques™#instead of watching a handful of half-relevant youtube videos and making up the rest #which was fun!#but did mean that once I was done I didn't know where to go from there #and at the time I couldn't find better resources #(I really wanted better youtube videos! just didn't know how to find them idk)#(it was 2020 I was unwell. as I'm sure we all understand)#but now I have an abundance of good sources #and I'm determined

137 notes · View notes

amhrosina · 2 years

Text

Wherever You Go, I Go (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST

A/N: Requested by a nonnie! I love writing readers that give Frank an attitude when he's being a dumbass, so here's that lol

Request: “wherever you go, i go” with frank pls🥺? maybe a hurt/comfort where he tries to push the reader away to protect them but they’re adamant about staying by his side? of course pls disregard this if it doesn’t inspire you <3 have the best day 🌷💝

Summary: Frank hasn't spoken to reader in two weeks and then shows up battered and bloody on their doorstep. Reader accidentally reveals their feelings in a fit of anger.

(Warnings: all the normal Frank things, so like blood, descriptions of stitches, wounds, etc. also, lots of cursing, soft!frank, idiotboy!frank, loml!frank)

Frank Castle was a mystery to most people, but you thought you’d cracked the code in understanding him; key word – thought. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him last, and the idea that Frank had lost interest or abandoned you gnawed at your stomach at all hours of the day. He wouldn’t just leave, would he?

It wasn’t like you were officially together or anything, but after the months of long nights sewing up cuts and whispering secrets into each other’s skin inbetween teeth clashes and hair pulling, you couldn’t really call Frank just a friend of yours. He’d made that clear every time you were anywhere near him. The familiar weight of his hands on your waist, the way he knew exactly where to press his lips on your neck to make you moan, the soft kisses he’d press into your hair when he left way too early in the morning.

You weren’t crazy for thinking he cared about you – you knew that – but his lack of contact for two entire weeks was a growing concern. Was he hurt? Dead? Did he meet someone new? More interesting? You were losing focus in your day-to-day tasks, and it was all his fault. Your boss had sent you home early and told you to get some sleep because it was clear that you needed it, but it was now past midnight, and you were beyond sleep at this point.

A loud thump against your front door startled you out of your haze. You grabbed the pistol Frank had left for your protection and inched towards the door. Your apartment wasn’t in the safest part of the city, but you’d never had to use a gun on someone before. Frank’s words had been clear when he was teaching you how to shoot it: “Safety off, cock it, aim, and unload the entire clip in the bastard’s face.”

You repeated his steps like a mantra as you peeked through the peep hole. You stared into your dim hallway, searching for the source of the noise, and found nothing. You grunted in annoyance. Dumb kids being dumb, you supposed. You went to move away from the door, already over the disturbance, when your eye caught a tiny bit of movement towards the bottom of the peep hole.

It was a subtle movement, one you would’ve missed if you blinked, but it was there, and you recognized those god damned boots. You set the gun down, swiftly unlatching the deadbolt and swinging the door open. Frank laid in a crumpled heap at your feet, a low groan emitting from his throat. He’d been leaning against the door when you opened it, so he had landed flat on his back in your haste to open the door.

A gasp caught in your throat when you finally took him in. Frank was covered in blood. You could just barely make out Frank’s dark eyes looking up at you. His nose was crooked and bleeding, definitely broken, and you could see a cut across his chest that was flowing more blood than you knew a human could have in their body.

“Oh my god, Frank!” Your voice finally came back to you in a hushed whisper.

You curled your arms under his shoulders, tugging him far enough into your apartment that you could shut the door. Frank was tall and muscular, so you knew he’d be heavy, but his dead weight was almost impossible for you to move. You ended up falling backwards, landing on your tailbone. Frank’s head rested in your lap; face pulled in a painful grimace.

You cradled his head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Where have you been, you fucking asshole?”

The way you were softly stroking his cheeks juxtaposed the anger laced in your words. Frank’s eyes were half lidded – he was barely conscious, but still breathing. You crawled out from under Frank’s weight and ran to the bathroom, grabbing at anything and everything that could help.

Frank was struggling to move when you dropped down next to him, pushing him back towards the floor.

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t move.” You mumbled, tugging his jacket off. His shirt was being held together by a few strands of fabric across the collar, so tearing it off him wasn’t difficult. The hard part was having to peel the sections of fabric that were so coated in blood that they were stuck to the gaping wounds. Frank’s breathing stuttered as you started putting pressure on the wound across his chest.

Blood was bubbling out of the cut, falling down his sides and onto your freshly mopped floor. Your Christmas pajamas were coated in red, but you weren’t worried about any of that. The more pressure you put on Frank’s chest, the more his eyes widened, and he needed to stay conscious.

Once the bleeding slowed, you began to sew stitches into the gash. Frank’s eyes followed your movements. It was a slow and painful process, but it gave you enough time to figure out what you wanted to say to him.

“You’ve been gone.” You mutter, pushing the needle through his skin. “You’ve been gone, for weeks, and then you show up half dead and bleeding all over my floor. Where were you?”

“’m sorry, baby.” Frank’s rough voice had a direct line to your heart, which ached in response to the two weeks of radio silence.

“I thought-” He gritted his teeth as you pushed the needled through his skin again, “I thought you’d be safe if I wasn’t around. I thought you’d be happier.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at him and then back down at the stitch you were working on. “If you really thought that, then you’re an idiot.”

“I never said I was smart.” The smirk on his lips reminded you of the rage you had swallowed down earlier.

“You. Left. Me.” You spit. “You couldn’t even say goodbye? You just fucking left me and thought I’d be happier? Fuck you, Frank. You should know by now that wherever you go, I go. If you really thought that leaving was a good idea, then you’re either blind or I’m a fucking idiot for falling in love with you.”

You freeze, squeezing your eyes closed. Your planned speech had been thrown out the window the minute you’d let yourself feel just how angry you were at him for abandoning you, and you’d just accidentally said the L-word to Frank fucking Castle.

Frank’s hands hover over yours, still mid stitch. You didn’t want to open your eyes and see the rejection written on Frank’s stupid face.

“No. No. I didn’t mean to say that. Forget it.” You shook your head and focused your gaze on the chest wound that was almost completely stitched up.

Frank’s hands wrap around yours, halting any more movement from you. You didn’t want to look, refused to, even. Frank mumbles your name, slightly squeezing your hands.

You finally look up, meeting his gaze. His expression was mostly neutral, but his lips rested in a small smile.

“You love me?” he asks, nonchalantly running his thumbs over your hands.

You let your head bob in a single nod.

“I lo-” You cut him off.

“Don’t say it unless you mean it. And don’t say it if you’re going to leave again.” You plead with him. He lifts one bloody hand to cup your cheek and shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. I love you. And I left because that scared me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken from me. I know it was stupid to leave, and I’m sorry.”

His words weakened the fire in your blood. Your eyes softened and you leaned into his hand, still cupping your cheek.

“I thought you were dead.” You whisper into his palm, pressing a soft kiss into his skin.

“’m sorry. I’ll never leave you again.”

The weight of his promise sits on your chest for a moment.

“Okay.” You respond, nodding your head. Your attention returns to his chest, a comforting silence overtaking the apartment as you finish stitching up the cut. You slowly make your way down Frank’s body, searching for and patching up any injuries you come across.

You help pull Frank to his feet. You’re both thoroughly covered in his blood, and you’re almost positive you won’t be getting your security deposit back on account of the giant puddle of it on your floor.

“Are you staying?” You ask, warily glancing between him and the door.

Frank cups your jaw and pulls you into a searing kiss. You stumble into his hold as he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ll stay forever if that’s what you want.” He mumbles against your lips.

“That’s what I want.” Your voice is breathy, seductive, even.

“Okay.” His tone is final as he nods and kisses you again.

“Okay.” You respond, smiling into the kiss. He pushes you backwards towards your bedroom, but you stop him. “We both reek. Shower, then fun, okay? And only if your cut doesn’t hurt too bad.”

“Got it, boss.” He chuckles, pulling you toward the bathroom.

After your shower, you walk into the bedroom, fully intent on ravishing Frank whole when you notice his sleeping form. He’s already in a deep sleep, arms resting behind his head on the pillow. You knew the adrenaline from the night would eventually catch up to him. You crawl into bed next to him and rest your head on his chest, carefully avoiding the cut you’d covered in gauze after your shared shower.

Frank turns, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Mmmm, love you.” He mumbles, still mostly asleep.

“I love you, Frankie.” You whisper, content to spend the rest of your life wrapped in his arms. Frank Castle is a mystery to most people, but not to you, you decide as you drift off to sleep, not to you.

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt

748 notes · View notes

bibbykins · 1 year

Text

Moonlight Reign Ch. 3

A/N: here's a continuation of the pain lol hopefully next update will come quicker and I hope you all enjoy! Be warned here and the series as a whole is pretty heavy emotionally, so heed all warnings and put yourself first! Also as usual shoutout to my lovely beta reader @rapline-heaux who read this forever ago lol ily

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect/academic neglect, talk of stitches, wound description, panic attack, acrylic nail slips on a keyboard but doesn't break, brief suicidal thought, lip biting until it bleeds, abandonment by male parental guardian, lots of crying

Silence threaded into the air, making it that much harder to breathe as Jungkook’s hands limply slid from you and back to his sides. The bubble of ignorance you shrouded each other in, now effectively popped as the world was de-muffled as your hands were now clasped in front of you. Tears welled in the back of your eyes, stinging more than usual, and no matter how much you blinked to keep them at bay they just came back. Nothing could shroud the horror that was your reality.

It’s funny, really, you remember learning about how to create a safe space for your patients in college. You learned how important it was for children to feel safe in development. You studied all the reasons safety was so vital to survival, and yet, you never once felt safe growing up. It was only in this moment you realized you had found your safe place.

It was only as you watched the weekly dinners, cramming sessions, and mutually intoxicated affection go up in smoke that you realized you had just lost it. Everything you never thought you could have was in flames, and one would think you would be used to the feeling of your life on fire by now, but your throat still burned with the agony of it all, no matter how familiar the taste was on your tongue.

Hurt flooded your eyes along with tears that Jungkook wanted nothing more than to gently brush away. But he knew shouldn’t, and now more than ever, he couldn’t. He didn’t know how you knew what it meant to be the head of Bangtan, and it was so hard for him to care as your fear and sorrow burnt a hole in his heart in the very space he kept the friendship you both shared. The gaping wound was only furthered by how much it took over his being. You both cared about each other much, much, more than you both let on to one another properly, and it’s only now he’s regretting that with his entire being.

Finally, he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, not when he was part of the reason you were looking at him like that. He looked at the beaten faux hardwood of your apartment and could feel an ache when he noticed the scratch from when he helped rearrange your living room furniture. Truly, he’d give anything to go back to that day, or even to when he got here so he could turn off the TV and delay the inevitable.

He didn’t even get a chance to try and pretend there was no reason to be scared. He wanted so badly to pretend he was a sugar baby who has no idea who he was dating, but he just couldn’t. You both have lied to each other enough to last a lifetime, and he knew it was too late. What you both had has already slipped through his fingers before he even had a chance to try and catch it.

You exhaled a shaky breath, and he looked at you again. There was not even a semblance of hope on his face, and it made the part of you he revived die all over again, “...should probably go, huh?” Your voice was too mangled for Jungkook to hear the first part of what you said, but it certainly didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Your form grew blurry as tears clouded his vision, preventing him from committing your feature to his memory properly before it was too late, “You’re right.” He settled solemnly.

Neither yours nor his tears were helped when you each noticed the other was crying. You wanted so badly to be angry at him for lying to you, but you weren’t nearly that much of a hypocrite. You both used the other as an escape from the ugliness of reality. Around Jungkook you were nothing but his friend and vice versa. It was a sweet escape, a nice vacation, but certainly nothing more than that, not anymore.

You had to figure out if you should disappear or if you could survive with simply moving out of the building. You had phone calls to old contacts to make, you had a million and one things to figure out, a million and one pieces to move and yet you threw your arms around the man in front of you.

Jungkook wasted no time in holding you to him with an intensity you’d never felt before. No one had ever wanted to keep you this badly, and you didn’t know what to do other than ball your fists around his shirt and silently cry into his shoulder. Your arms tightened around his neck as you counted down the mere minutes before he also figured out who you were. You knew he would leave you, replay each moment leading up to this, and figure out who you were talking to. You just didn’t know what he would do with that information. You didn’t even know for sure how much it meant to him, but it was so hard to focus when his body shook against yours with a silent sob that you echoed with ease. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be gracious enough to look the other way for just a little bit so you could touch the bedroom wall you both shared and pretend it wasn’t there tonight.

You don’t know how long you stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms, soaking in the finality of the embrace, bones heavy with melancholy. You only remembered the look you gave one another, filled to the brim with tears, longing, and an insincere hatred of everything beyond the four walls of your apartment. Slowly, you leaned up and pressed a quivering kiss to his cheek.

A harsh breath left Jungkook and you could feel his tears on your lips when you pulled away, “Close your eyes.” He pleaded, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t want you to see me leave you.” The plea for him to not leave was on the tip of your tongue, but you choked it down with another cry.

You nodded, and he granted you one last smile before you let your wet lashes touch each other. Your world was shrouded in darkness and part of you knew it would remain this way long after you opened them to an empty apartment. Still, you squeezed your eyes shut, not too keen on seeing Jungkook leave you either. You swallowed back a cry when he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips as you counted the steps he took to your door. Your body quaked when you could feel him giving you one final look. Your lips struggled to give him one more smile, and then the door closed.

Your knees hit the floor with no one there to catch you anymore. The shock waves slid up your thigh as you cried into your hands, wondering how many people were going to leave you before you stopped letting them in.

—

“Let go of me, please,” It was the first time you had heard your father say please, and it was one of the last things you would hear him say. Byungyeol looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of pity and sorrow that you couldn’t decipher if it was for you or the empire that lay in ashes. Regardless, it was an order and you weren’t raised to disobey, so you finally relented and released his torso from your arms with a trembling lip and a river that flowed freely from your eyes. The last time you cried in front of him like this had been when your age was in the single digits, but he didn’t patronize you this time– he no longer had any reason to.

“I can’t… You can’t… Please, stay with me.” You begged, very becoming of the heir to nothing as you clung to the last person who could prove you were even alive before today, “I’m so scared of being alone-” You sobbed into your hands as you both sat in a car outside of a restaurant owned by a family friend. You had nothing but a backpack with cash and two days worth of clothing, but your biggest fear was leaving this car.

“Daughter.” His voice commanded, and you straightened up. You looked at him, eyes bleary and wide, still a puppet waiting for orders. He regarded you with a sharp glare, “We do not show fear.” His tone was finite, it alway was. He always spoke in simple commands, because even now, he didn’t expect you to say anything in response.

However, you sniffled, “I am scared.” You admitted, the closest you’d gotten to defiance in over a decade, “I can’t do this alone.”

“And yet, you will.” His voice was the same amount of cold it had always been, but it burned you nonetheless, “You must.” Something in his voice tapered off that made you look at him a little closer. He looked so… old. You could see the years in his eyes and in the deep rivets that framed his frown, and it made something in your chest twist.

“Should’ve left me with them, huh?” You asked, and he looked at you with confusion, “Should’ve never taken me in, I bet?” You tried to ask again, but he couldn’t understand you. It was often hard to understand if you were asking if that’s how he felt or if you were admitting that’s how you felt. You were never taught how to make it clear, after all. No one ever cared for your words.

Instead of prying or correcting you, he shook his head. His hand on your head quieted you. “I love you,” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, and the notion made your body freeze. The feeling was foreign, and the action was something that was usually reserved for holidays, “I rarely ever say it, but know that I do, my daughter,” He said softly, but he opened your door all the same, not wanting to entertain this goodbye for any longer, “We will see each other again, I promise, give me three years and we’ll be together again, a normal family.”

—

You knew now it had all been nothing but a lie to get you out of the car so he could watch you grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until you dissolved into nothing but a memory. You didn't think your father was even really capable of love in the first place. You’d give anything at the moment to be that cold, but you could certainly fake it. You let in a shaky breath as you looked to your fingertips, your ring one brushing along the scratch on the floor you were not looking forward to letting your security deposit go to. Brushing away the tears away from the streaks that have undoubtedly dried on already, you took one last moment to be upset, to be human, before you stood to pick up your phone.

The line only rang once before it clicked, “Thank you for calling The Rose Palace, how can I help you?” A sweet feminine voice hardly touched with the age she was filled your ears.

“Eunhwa?” You breathed, wanting more than anything to feel her maternal embrace but settling for the concern in her voice.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” Your eyes fluttered closed when your one last tie to your previous life spoke.

“No.” Your answer was far too honest, but you grew so sick of lying today, “I, uh, need you to tell me how fucked I am.” You sniffled, pressing your eyes shut so you would stop looking at that damn scratch on the floor.

—

Jungkook was thankful when he found his apartment empty as he slid his back down the door, slumping against it on the floor defeatedly. His head hung low as he rested his arms on his knees. He shook his head, wanting more than anything to wake up from this nightmare already.

Every moment with you this morning circled in his mind like a broken record. It was torturous, but it was all he could do to face the reality of the situation. If he couldn’t keep you in his life, he had to at least figure out why. Had Bangtan done something to hurt you? Or had they hurt your family somehow? Did you even have any family for them to hurt? Fuck, where did it all go wrong?

He got himself stuck in this loop of questioning for an indeterminate amount of time as he ran through every millisecond of his time with you today. Every time he circled back, he always got stuck on that phone call. That phone call was the catalyst of the ruin he was in the throes of right now and something about it just… didn’t sit right with him. How often did coworkers call you for it to make sense? Sure, you could’ve lied, he’d hardly be in a place to judge, but then who else could it have been?

Suddenly keeping as much of yourselves private from each other felt like a mistake. Now that the people you both became in the presence of one another have effectively died, he’s left with nothing to do but cling to the you he never got to know. It’s an addiction, really. He should just be mourning the civillian distraction of his real life, but he knew you were so much more than a distraction, it’s just the first time he’s really feeling it. He couldn’t let you go, and he refused to even if he had the ability. He needed to figure out why it all went up in flames before he even considered mourning.

—

“I won’t lie to you, darling, but I will ask, do you want the good news or bad news first?” Eunhwa finally spoke after listening intently to your panicked word vomit.

You blew out a shallow sigh, “Bad news.” It would be pretty difficult for your day to get any worse at this point.

“Right.” Your former nanny had a nostalgic lilt to her voice before speaking, “Since the capture of your uncle and with the anniversary week in full swing, it would be pretty difficult to find someone in the underground willing to help you… in the way you may need help.” She spoke delicately, “The whispers suggest Bangtan isn’t going to stop with your uncle, and the whereabouts of your father and even you are… well, high ticket items, if you understand what I mean.”

“Yeah.” You struggled out. You knew all too well what she meant. In a world where the most important currency is power, almost anything was for sale in the Underworld’s market, especially information. You knew firsthand there were few things people wouldn’t do to get in the good graces of the syndicate in power, and you were more thankful than ever that the only active tie to your life before wouldn’t sell you out. Not that she would ever need to. Eunhwa was and always has been a well-respected figure in the underground, and she’s mastered the rare skill of neutrality while maintaining respect.

“And unless you have your father’s whereabouts to offer, it wouldn’t be wise to voluntarily come forward.” Or else they’d kill you on the spot. She spared you the detail, but you understood what she meant, “Good news is, after all of the mayhem of anniversary week cools down in a few weeks, we’d most likely be able to find someone to help.” Her weak attempt at trying to sound joyful was comforting regardless of how not effective it was on you, “Plus, Jungkook may not even add two and two together before then. I doubt he would be too keen on putting his best friend to death.”

“Except I’m no longer his best friend.” Your voice cracked with your heart, and you couldn't help that pitiful laugh that left you at how childish you sounded, “So I’m not sure if that would help me.”

Eunhwa sighs, and you can hear the pity in it. It should make you sick, but this was your last human connection in your personal life, so any care towards you was welcome right now, “Feelings don’t just go away the moment they should, you know that.” She softly chided, “We’ve all loved people for longer than we should’ve, and that might be the fact of life that’ll buy you the time you need.”

You hummed, not able to say much as her words soaked into your wet cheeks. You loved your father for much longer than you cared to and with Jungkook… Well, the pain would be one you were sure you’d feel for ages.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She said, her voice going up an octave now that the logistics were out of the way, “Right now, just keep your head down and live your life like normal, okay?”

You hummed again, defeated, “What if I just packed a bag and left?” You mused, looking out the window. You knew why that wasn’t an option. There was no such thing as leaving the underground, especially not on your own. Not with the trail of bodies you’d have to leave behind. All it took was one call, and it would shatter you completely. How would you pay for anything? You were only given enough of a payout for school, everything else was given up. You’d be caught before you even made it to the airport or snuck onto a ship.

“You know better.” Eunhwa breathed, “You would be calling even more attention to yourself, and that would piss Jungkook off and tip him off to who you are at the same time.” You nodded. She always had a point. The fact was that Jungkook didn’t yet know who you were, but you feared it was only a matter of time, “I’ll call you when it’s time.” Was all she said before the line clicked. You almost laughed at the fact that before Jungkook, you were convinced your interactions with Eunhwa was the highest form of affection. Not that she didn’t care about you, it’s just the world she knew was one of keeping those she could love at an arm’s length. It was safest that way, and no one, not even you, was worth jeopardizing her safety. You couldn’t blame her for that, and you could only hope Jungkook would feel the same if he did find out about who you were.

Even more, you hoped you were long gone before the day came.

—

“I hear you, Sohee, I do, but you cannot just punch at full force everytime you get upset.” You looked at the 16-year-old as you tossed her ice, which she caught with ease and a pout in your direction. Kang Sohee was someone you’d consider a regular in your office. She was a bright student with poor emotional regulation– like most high school students already had– add that to the pressure of being in the top percentile in the nation, meant she was routinely in for her ibuprofen or a pack of ice.

“Would you rather I hit people?” She challenged but shrank when you gave her an exasperated look as you sat at your desk to type up the incident.

“Raise the bar, kid.” You sighed, “I’d rather you take those deep breaths we’ve rehearsed or punch a pillow or a folded hoodie like we’ve also rehearsed.” You gave her a pointed look, “I don’t want you to break your hand or split your knuckles to the point of needing stitches.” She winced at the thought and you nodded, “Exactly, it would be gruesome and only make you more upset in the end.”

She sighed, nodding, “It’s just…” She trailed off, and you nodded empathetically even though you had no idea what going to high school was like, from what you could tell it was no different than any other cliquey group with a hierarchy. There was significantly less bloodshed, which you were thankful for.

“I know.” You sighed, “Exams are coming, and emotions are running high.” She nodded at this, “And I’m glad you’re allowing yourself to feel those emotions, I just want you to express them in a way that doesn’t get you or anyone else hurt.”

She nodded once again, but snorted, “Okay, school counselor.” You sent her another glare as you paused your typing, making her smile.

Even though you rolled your eyes, you were just glad she was feeling better. These kids had a million different stressors that landed them in your office and led you to need to provide some kind of emotional support. You never figured yourself as good with children, but the students liked you well enough, so you figured you were doing something right. Maybe all that therapy you did during college came in handy, just not in the way your therapist might have thought.

“You have any significant others, Nurse L/n?” Sohee asked, making your typing cease.

Your eyes bulged as you blinked at her, “Now how did we get here?” You asked, making her giggle. Truthfully, you should’ve been used it by now. These kids rarely had any sense of decorum or minding intrusive questions.

“So no?” She tittered, chipping at your flimsy dignity a bit.

You snorted, “How mean, but no, Ms. Nosey, I am not… involved with anyone.” Jungkook’s face flashed in your mind for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint nor wanted to entertain. Especially not now. He was a friend and nothing more. Keyword: was.

Sohee thought for a moment before speaking again, a true rarity for her, “Well, Mr. Kang totally has a crush on you.” She blurted, and your fingers tripped along the keys, making your nail sink in the space between two of them.

“Sohee!” You gasped, erasing the series of semicolons that populated the page, “Wh- I-” You took a moment to breathe, “Mr. Kang does not-”

“Well, thanks for the icepack!” She called as she slipped out the door, leaving you with your mouth agape, “Oh, hi Mr. Kang!” She sang loudly, making your chest seize.

In walked Changhyun Kang, the history department head and advanced history teacher with a smile on his almost unnervingly handsome face. Living in the city on your own as you navigated adulthood came with many culture shocks, but one of them were how pretty some of the people you came across, Changhyun being one of them. He was nice though, because of course he was, and he came in every day to steal some ice for his mid-day coffee. He could very well go to the cafeteria for some, but your office was closer– barely. Regardless, you were in no state to pry into why he insisted on coming to your office. Jungkook had done his best to give you a rundown on how to talk to your fellow coworkers, but you elected to only use that advice when absolutely necessary. Now you couldn’t help but wonder how he even knew to coach you on that.

Changhyun’s eyes darted to the door, giving you a questioning brow, “Sohee is awfully chipper today.” He observed, “Especially for a Monday.” He chuckled. You never understood the fixation with announcing the days of the week among your coworkers, but you played along nonetheless. Right now, it just served as a reminder that you had a mere two days before anniversary week would reach its crescendo.

You sighed, “That she is.” You simply left it at that before changing the subject, “Thank you for reminding me it is nearly my lunch time.” You chuckled, continuing to type up the report.

He nodded, thinking for a moment, “Are you ever able to take your lunch early?” He asked curiously, before moving to get some ice.

You didn’t look up from your screen as you spoke, “Well, sure, I guess I just keep my usual time for the sake of routine.” You responded thoughtlessly.

“I see.” He spoke and the typing off your keyboard suddenly sounded way too loud.

You gulped, not sure how to fill the sudden awkward tension, “Why?” You asked, insistent on looking at your computer still.

“W-Well, I was just thinking maybe we could have lunch tomorrow or something?” He rushed out, and you paused, blinking for a moment. The urge to overthink the invitation was strong, especially since you weren’t sure how long you were even going to be here with everything else in your life going on. However, that was all the more reason it didn’t matter. Plus, who’s to say he was intending anything other than friendship. Changhyun was a good-looking guy, so it wouldn’t make much sense for him to be so bashful when asking for a date– not that you would even think to count an in-work lunch as a date in the first place. Obviously you were overthinking the situation anyways and for a bit too long as he continued, “I mean I bring my lunch, and you bring yours, and I come in here anyways, so we could just eat in here? –But if you prefer not–”

“Sure.” You turned to smile at him, “I could use the company.” You did your best to brighten your smile, and he returned it tenfold, “Maybe then the students will stop asking me if I have friends.” You tried to joke lightly, and surely Jungkook would be proud of you as Changhyun let out a hearty laugh.

“Same here.” He chuckled, but it did little to simmer the sting of Jungkook on your mind. Just before your coworker could notice your smile fall, you phone started vibrating. You looked down at it with a frown, “Well, I’ll let you get that. See you!” He gave a polite wave that you mirrored just as Jungkook told you to do.

Changhyun was kind enough to close your office door, which you were thankful for as you picked up the phone, too nervous to check the caller ID, “Hello?”

“Was it Byungjoo?” Your blood ran cold as Jungkook’s voice sliced through the receiver.

You’d seldom heard him sound like this before, but you can hardly register his tone when the name he uttered slices through your skin.

“Wh-What are you–” You tried to say something, but Jungkook couldn’t bear to hear you try to lie anymore.

“Who you saw at the fight. It was Byungjoo, wasn’t it?” He demanded, but something about his voice sounded… off. Like the way it would sound during finals week when he’d join your marathon studying. Has he… been up all night? Or longer? It’s Monday now and you both ended things Saturday morning.

Suddenly, Byungjoo fades from your mind and you’re just a friend again, “Jungkook, have you… slept?” You asked, and flinched at the sound of his sharp exhale, letting it sink in that he’d no longer be your solace from your past.

“Answer my question.” He demanded, but you pressed your lips together. You can’t answer his question, so that left you with one choice.

“I don’t know who–”

“Aren’t we done lying to each other?” He snapped, making your eyes widen, “Here, I’ll go first: I’ve watched every fucking frame of the crowd footage of the fight and cross-referenced them with every teacher in the goddamn city, and the only one’s that were the only ones that were in that footage for even a second hadn’t called out of work that day.”

It was like the air knocked out of you. Why? How? It didn’t make sense. What the fuck did Jungkook do for work? Is Namjoon more than just a boyfriend? The thought was too much to bear, “Please, it’s– it’s–” You had to take a semi-stabalizing breath, “Don’t do this.” You whispered.

“I wish I didn’t need to.” He spit, “But I can’t fucking do this without you–”

“Yes, you can–” You cut him off desperately despite how much you wanted to agree. He had no choice. Neither of you did. “Well then I don’t fucking want to!” He yelled, making your throat nearly close, “Look, you don’t have to worry about Byungjoo anymore–”

“It’s not Byungjoo I’m worried about.” You spoke honestly, not wanting to hear about your uncle’s fate any further, “It’s… not safe for me to be around you, Kook.” You admitted and it felt like pouring hot wax down your throat.

There were a few beats of agonizing silence before he spoke again, “I can make it safe for you.”

You shook your head before sighing, “You can’t.” The crack in your voice mirrored your resolve. It would be so easy to just say the full truth, but you let your mouth close, hoping it would stau that way, “This is… it’s bigger than just you, okay?”

“No.” He deadpanned, and you sighed, “No, not okay. This… nothing is too big for me…” He all but promises before adding, “...not when it comes to you.”

Your heart ached in your chest. How many times had anyone deemed you worth much beyonf what you could give them? And would anyone else do it in the future? Jungkook was all you had and how much that meant to you teared you apart as you spoke, “It’s not worth–”

“Yes, you are.” Was all he seethed before hanging up.

You were stuck there for a moment, frozen with your phone to your ear. Had you not seen the call log yourself, you could’ve convinced yourself that whole thing was just a horrible nightmare. You wished it had been. The last thing you needed was Jungkook to tear open the wounds that haven’t even begun to heal properly and incidentally signing your death certificate. Then again, maybe his tune would change once he found out who you were. You weren’t some unsullied reprieve from his life in the Underworld, and maybe once he realized that, he’d turn his back on you. He’d realize you weren’t worth much at all. Just like everyone eventually does.

Bitterness filled your mouth and it’s only then you realized you gnawed on the skin of your lips for too long. You huffed out, opening your compact mirror to asses the damage only to find one small red sliver. You placed a small piece of tissue on the oozing blood and put on your mask for the rest of the day.

------------------------------------------

If you enjoy my work, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi (also pls send me an ask, I love to hear from y'all!)

Masterlist

#bts mafia au #bts fanfic #bts series #bts poly au #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #mafia bts #yandere mafia bts

370 notes · View notes

moregraceful · 1 year

Note

show me the elusive wille and thom please

other anon: Ooh, I’d like to know about the Thom/Wille knitting fic, please!

BASICALLY i was shooting the shit with @tofumilanesa going "yes and-" as is our wont, and somehow landed on thomas bordeleau is too fidgety -> thomas bordeleau needs a hobby -> thomas bordeleau should do art -> thomas bordeleau should do fiber arts -> thomas bordeleau should knit. and critically: he should fucking suck so bad at it. he should be the worst knitter on the planet. he should make the worst bucket hats ever made. he should make terrible sweaters with so many holes. he should be the worst knitter who has ever picked up needles and yarn and he should just keep on going like the little engine that could.

anyway the whole thing is just joke after joke about the cuda and i WAS going to try to finish it for @sharkuda-strong but there are a couple of time skips into the future and i have never created my dream comedy sharks line up before, so i lost steam, but i think i'm going to try to pick it up after the draft lol. i open it like once a week and go, ugh is it funnier if matt nieto ends up back on the team in five years in denver or is it funnier if kevin labanc becomes grandpa shark in seven years

excerpt under the cut:

It was a quiet Monday afternoon, with him and William, and Robbie too. William had that look on his face that he needed a break from the rest of the team after practice today and Robbie told Thom he was overstimulated from Bye week with his family and two weeks of back-to-backs. Thom invited them over to just hang out, just the three of them.

William was playing Luigi’s Mansion on Robbie’s Switch while Robbie built a Lego set that Aaron Dell had given him. No one had said anything for the past 45 minutes, which was very unlike all three of them, but the season was starting to drag and everyone was getting exhausted from the playoff push. The only sound had been the clicking of Thom’s knitting needles and Robbie singing “Boss Bitch” to himself at Thom’s kitchen table as he pieced together a bouquet of wildflowers out of Legos.

Thom held his sweater up to look at it. It was incredibly ugly, blue and white in a sort of winter pattern, except Thom dropped so many stitches that there were weird bumps and holes all over it. The arms were lopsided and the collar was lumpy. Thom was proud of himself anyway. Maybe he should take it into show his friends at the yarn store. He had gone in a lot in the past two months when he got stuck.

William sighed and tossed the Switch to the side. He pressed himself against Thom without looking at him, his sign that he needed attention.

Thom hesitated, because the sweater was so ugly. It would be a really shitty present. Like, hey, you just lost your best friend to Detroit and our team is garbage and neither of us have been called up yet, but chin up, I just made a really fucked up sweater and I’m giving it to you out of pity.

He hadn’t intended to give it to anyone. He’d mostly been making it to prove to himself and Aaron Dell that he could. It was only special in that way where it was the first one he made. Thom already had a running list on his Notes app of what he would have to do better next time.

William tucked his head against Thom’s shoulder without saying anything. He never did that.

Thom handed the sweater to William. “Here,” he said. “For you.”

William sat up. “You’re giving me your sweater?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Thom. He was so embarrassed now that William was holding it, rubbing his hand across the uneven stitches. “I mean, you don’t have to wear it or anything. You can give it back. It sucks. It’s bad. Sorry. Give it back. No, what are you doing—”

William was pulling off his sweatshirt. He threw his sweatshirt in the direction of Robbie, who didn’t notice, and shrugged into the sweater Thom made. It didn’t fit at all. Thom wasn’t even sure it could be comfortable, it fit so badly. One of the sleeves barely passed his wrist and the other came down over his palm.

William looked happier than he had in a month. He pulled the long sleeve over his hand and punched Thom in the thigh. “Thanks, bro,” he said. He had a big grin.

He picked up the Switch again and settled into the couch away from Thom.

Thom rolled his shoulders out. Well, whatever made William happy, he thought.

#cage replies #anon #unfortunate birdcage fanfictions

39 notes · View notes

amoristt · 11 months

Note

mini song fic with Ghost to the song Daylight by David Kushner plsss !! can be NSFW or SFW whatever you prefer!

a/n: ok so . i broke my own rule bc this prompt is so GOOOD and i love that song . so u get free smut LOL link to the song!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

want to support me? heres my kofi!

Rain rhythmically taps at the pitched tent, the trees overhead taking the brunt of the storm rolling in. The un-cushioned tent flooring offers little support from where you sit, Ghost kneeling beside you, making fast work in patching up the bullet hole you'd been gifted earlier that afternoon. He hadn't said much since you'd both escaped from the Russian base, using the surrounding woods as cover. Somewhere out there, Gaz and Price were certainly doing the same.

Before you'd lost your radio and Ghost's broke into pieces during a fall, he'd discussed with Soap where to meet, but unfortunately the man was about 12 hours away to bring the replacement chopper. With it already having been so late in the day, the dusk sky a vibrant orange, the safe option was to set up camp in the foliage for the night and not risk another injury.

You fought to not wince as Ghost retrieved the last fragment of the bullet. It had left it's impressive mark on your left shoulder, merely inches away from your heart. Ghost was quiet as ever, his movements fluid as he began to stitch the gaping wound shut. You'd known him long enough to sense the underlying tension he was battling.

As he settles the last stitch into place, his fingers linger just a little too long on your arms. You refuse to meet his gaze.

The mission had been a success. You'd both left in one piece despite your injuries, you'd secured the intel you'd needed, and as far as you were aware the rest of your team had made it as well. But, at a cost.

Between your nearly fatal wound and the many holes littering Ghost's tactical gear, Ghost felt more tense than usual. Like something was lingering under the surface- a certain sense of anxiety he wasn't exactly unfamiliar with but hadn't felt in years. You could practically see it radiating off him, his expression solemn once he finally looked at you with those cold eyes.

"That'll do." He said, even toned and exhausted. You just nodded. You'd never seen him so beat down.

Without thinking, you reached out, touched your fingers to his balaclava. The fabric shifted under your touch. He didn't pull away like he usually did- and when he leaned into the touch, you knew he was really going through it.

Reminded of your mortality, Ghost had been thoroughly frightened.

Night came quickly and silently.

Ghost's body was heavy over yours, one large arm wrapped around your waist to hoist you up so he could buck into you with fervor. His other arm propped himself up on it's elbow, face buried into your neck, his breath warming his mask against your throat. Every time his hips met yours, you jumped in your skin, the feeling of his length reaching almost impossibly deep inside of you. Your walls squeezed him like a vice, your legs wrapped around his waist invitingly.

Your nails rake down his back from underneath his thick hoodie, tracing all those scars that wormed down his spine. He fills you so completely you almost can't take it. Head tossed back, fingers grasping at whatever they could for purchase. His movements had started so calculated- but as the night grew on they became sloppy, desperate, like he couldn't hold himself back.

He was never the best at telling you his emotions but damn could you always feel them. You could feel the way his fingers gripped at your skin, feel the way he'd linger for a split second every time he sank into you as deep as missionary would allow it. You could feel the way he'd shiver when you pawed at the muscles of his back, and how he hesitated when you'd pull the fabric of his mask up at the neck to mouth at his throat and leave angry, red marks. He always lets you without a fight.

The crickets chirped melodically outside, drowned out by both of your ragged breaths and the unmistakable sound of skin on skin. You clutched at him as you felt your climax begin to approach rapidly, eyes screwing shut, feeling the intensity of his size stretching you to accommodate him. You knew he could feel it too, with the way you clenched around him and the pitch of your moans raising every time he bottomed out.

In an instant you felt nothing but emptiness. He'd pulled out, backing away despite your protests. Large hands grappled at your waist and he lifted you with ease, pulling you to his chest as he tipped back and sat with you on his lap, legs pried open by his thighs as you straddled him. Squirming, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and whined- but that emptiness you so hated was short lived thankfully. He sank you onto his length, your back arching as the tip of his cock dragged along your gummy walls.

A strangled cry left your throat followed by his name, over and over again. He bucked up into you like an animal and held your hips fast to prevent you from moving away from the onslaught of pleasure. Knowing the vulnerable position you were both in if you got caught, you covered your mouth, choking out moans through the gaps of your fingers.

"Mmf- Please, I'm gonna-" Words failed you, mind numbed, fucked out and fighting to keep up with his pace. It wasn't uncommon for him to take you like this, but something felt different about him. He felt needier, more intense. Not out of lust, but something more... Emotional.

He wrapped his arms around you and crushed you against his chest, drinking in the sounds that left your lips, caught like a web by the palm of your hand. You were so close- barely hanging on.

"Come on, love," He grunted, resting his forehead on yours. Your pleading eyes met his, and the rough edges of his expression softened. "Come on."

Your body locked up around him, your sex tightening like a vice. You made a tight fist in the fabric of his hoodie, other hand clamped over your mouth, body struggling as he rode you through your intense orgasm. His thighs stopped you from closing your legs as he chased his own release.

Ghost's low voice rang in your ears. "There you go."

You nearly whimpered as you felt his movements grow harsh and sloppy, hands flattening over your spine and keeping you still against him. A slew of broken up words and pleas waterfalled from your mouth as you rested your head limpy on his chest, and then you finally felt his hips stutter against yours. Hot, thick seed filled you to the very brim, and haphazardly he continued to sloppily buck against you, not wanting to leave your tight heat.

But, all good things must come to an end.

Ghost pulled out of you, slow and stready. You squirmed at the emptiness. He leaned on his back and kicked his legs straight out, arms still caged around you and dragging you right along with him. You felt spent, limp against him, listening to the thrashing of his heart in his chest.

Both of your combined heavy breaths complimented the sound of crickets and the wind rustling through the trees overhead. You could barely keep your eyes open, but you did anyways, gazing up at him as his hands soothed over your skin. A small lamp beside his head offered little light, but it was enough to see the distant look in his eyes. He stared at the ceiling of the tent and blinked slowly. When he felt you looking, he looked down at you.

The air thickened. He looked tired, just as earlier, but in a different way now. This wasn't the type of tired where he could sleep it off and come back good as new. He looked worn.

"You alright?" He asked. His voice was quieter now, softer. Far away, almost.

Almost a million words knocked the doors of your lips, but you shunned them away. Ghost watched your expression intently. With a nod, you pressed your lips into a tight line. He could sense every ounce of your hesitation, just as you could feel his.

You curled up beside him, body pressed against his side. If actions could speak words, yours would be shouting from the farthest rooftops. Thankfully, Ghost was quick to welcome you in, wrapping an arm around you before his eyes found themselves studying the ceiling of the tent once again. Carefully, you placed a hand on his clothed chest, feeling the way his breath hitched despite the things you’d been doing mere moments ago. He was weird like that, you’d learned. He could fuck you like an animal and be completely fine, yet sometimes something as small as running your hands through his hair had him freezing up.

You wished you had met him before the military. Before his bodies first reaction to touch was to flinch away and defend itself. Before you damn near had to teach him that it didn't always have to hurt.

But, you also knew that you were no different than him. You knew that when you'd first met Ghost, you were all nerves and anxiety. Looking over your shoulder, waiting for the metaphorical other shoe to drop. You knew the moment you'd looked into Ghost's eyes that you were cut from that same empty, lonely cloth. So distrustful, so unwilling to open up.

Yet, here you lay, properly fucked out with his arms holding you steadfast to him protectively. Even after it all- even with the dull ache of a rifles bullet hole reminding you of the hell you’d signed up for, you felt lucky- you felt like it was right.

He did too, you'd learned.

The rain picked up it's soft pace and thunder distantly echoed. You nestled your head into the crook of his neck and reveled in the way he shifted to invite you in.

Slowly, both of your breathing began to settle.

#simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #headcanons #scenario #imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader

39 notes · View notes

kariokiipeaches · 1 year

Text

GAH!

After 5 months of building, my Killer cosplay is finally DONE!

I give you - me!

I Commissioned the hoodie from someone I’ve bought from before - a great seller on Etsy named Simakaihoodies.

I asked about potentially making a Killer hoodie some months after I purchased her Red (UnderFell Sans) hoodie and ended up wearing it nearly everyday for 4 months straight (seen below).

I wanted to make it as close to canon Killer (owned by Rahafwabas) as a could, and she already had a great “faded blue” color cloth around from a previous Dust commission, so we went from there.

After that we went to what I’d like to see for a fur trim in a tan/cream-ish color, and upon not finding floof with the fibers as long as I’d like right away, nor the right shades, the hunt was on.

Some weeks later she stumbled upon the perfect option and was quick to sew it up and send it out.

It was STUPID HARD to find white basketball draw-string shorts with a thick black line down the sides WITH NOTHING ELSE ON IT.

I wanted NO other colors, NO designs, NO trim, NO mesh-y type holes, NO piping, NO huge logo, NO fancy stitching.

Plain.

White with black.

Shorts.

After a couple months I found em.

I ordered a pair of leather fingerless gloves, they didn’t fit, wrinkled awkwardly, so I tossed ‘em.

I went to the children’s section of the dollar store, bought a pack of knit gloves, and cut the tips off - perfect length!

Finding the right-shade-of-blue high-top canvas Converse in my size was NEAR IMPOSSIBLE too.

Either it was too expensive in pristine condition (which I DIDNT want), or leather (which I don’t think he’d wear), or the wrong size (my size is popular apparently so everything instantly sold), or was a flat-out wrong shade of blue.

C’mon, Killer wouldn’t care if his shoes are clean or not… his shoes would be beat-the-fuck-out, so I needed WORN ones.

I didn’t want to deal with stiff canvas.

I was probably gonna leave the laces untied to drag on the ground, so I didn’t care if they were clean or not.

I didn’t care about stains or scuffs.

BUT! They HAD to nearly match the faded blue of the hoodie - the canon Rahafwabas art shows they’re a similar color. One CANT be too much darker or lighter than the other.

After a couple months of searching, I found someone who LOVED their Converse enough to actually USE them before selling, AND they were the right shade.

I got ‘em for $16!

So Killers socks are slouchy, right?

All the Sanses socks are.

So I had to stretch mine out.

Apple juice bottle came in handy for that.

Incase you were wondering why that photo was in the collage up there, lol.

The SOUL!

The SOUL.

Killers target-shaped SOUL is a fuckin tap-light with 8 layers of cellophane glued on it.

THAT BITCH stressed me the fuck out building.

I TRIED to commission someone to make one.

Messaged a TON of people on Etsy about it, but no one could or would (some people said they were too busy cuz it was the Christmas season).

So I decided I had to make it myself.

Only I had to find the right-shade-of-red cellophane.

And I couldn’t just buy a single large sheet like I wanted. Stores (even online) only sell a massive pack.

So I just hung-out til it was the first week of February and stole some squares out of a Valentines Day decoration.

Hey - it worked, right?

It’s EIGHT. FUCKING. LAYERS.

To get this shade of red.

Exacto Knives, acetone, 3 special kinds of glue, and HOURS of tracing circular objects in my home, and it’s as good as I could get it for a first attempt.

I lucked-out when it came to the brightness of the damn tap-light. I NEEDED the light to be visible enough to tell it was on even in daylight (cuz, DUH, Killers SOUL always glows; not just in the dark!).

Mystique @lady-of-disdain helped A LOT on deciding some things when I couldn’t figure out a best option on my own. Her Killer knowledge and tastes match my own, so when stumped I chatted her up - this would have taken longer without her input.

So THANKS MYS *waves*

So it’s done, right?!

WRONG.

I need it to fuckin’ snow so I can take some damn pics.

BUT IT SNOWED YESTERDAY!!! Well. For a little bit.

So here I/he am/is!

It’s gonna snow again tomorrow, so I’m hooking up my camera remote to take better pictures - my tiny tripod with the camera timer was a fail, lol. That leaning pic came out way worse than anticipated, and that wrinkle-lump at the neck of the hood is really unbecoming in the chair photo. I’ll get some better ones this time and make a new post.

GO check out Simakaishoodies! Buy some Undertale! Buy some Delta Rune! Give her all the support and all your money!

And check out her Tumblr @simakai !!!

My next piece I commission will either be Mutt’s floor-length hoodie/duster from Fellswap (which is gonna be heavy as FUCK with all that fabric), or a Horror Sans hoodie (but I gotta find an effects-blood that won’t wash out, and study blood-spatter patterns and test ‘em out before I go and mark up any commissioned piece. Maybe I’ll use a real axe for the pattern to look legit, who knows).

In the meantime I’ll be work on completing Red’s outfit.

I still need a LOT for that guy, and finding the right-shade-of-yellow socks that will match the black shorts with yellow stripe, that’ll ALSO match the yellow in the hoodie is gonna be a headache.

Wish me luck!

#killer!sans #killer sans #utmv #undertale au #undertale #something new #bad sanses #undertale cosplay #cosplay #i made this!!#simakaihoodies #etsy commission #I need it to snow more

50 notes · View notes

renawaywithme · 9 months

Note

I was also just wondering if you had a comprehensive list of all the scars the 2012 boys have in the tattered remains/frayed universe? I've been potentially drawing fanart of some of the scenes once I get my drawing tablet!

You... want to draw fanart of my fic

Ignore the whale noises in the background, that's just me casually sobbing that someone wants to do that 🤝

BUTTT since you asked, I probably should list all the scars because. There are a lot. I always wished they had more visible aftermaths for injuries, esp Leo, but since this is my fic - I can do what it want (within reason lol)

Spoilers below for the fic and canon series and trigger warning for injuries/scars.

2012

Leo has the most noticable scaring out of all his brothers! There is deep gouge marks on his right knee, sort of all over the place and just messy in general and the knee is slightly misshapened (due to it being crushed and then stabbed multiple times). His plastron also has three gouge marks across it from Shredder's gauntlets and there is a tiny scar on his throat from his throat being crushed/cut. Not noticeable unless he lifts his head up to show it. He also has scarring on his right shoulder that looks like shark teeth from being bit there.

Raph's left eye is a few shades lighter than his right because he's blind there! He also has a small spiral scar on the right side of his temple just under his mask from the brain worm cutting into his skin. Another brain worm scar is on his wrists and ankles! He rubbed off a lot of skin while struggling in the restraints and it left a mark. He also has a lot of scars on his knuckles from busting them open during fights and when I imagine him/write him, where that chip in his shell is there is also a wide scar across his shoulder that attaches it to the chip in his carapace, like a follow through. As for post his attack from Shredder, part of his carapace and plastron are missing and the chips also spread out like cracks. There's two holes in total!

Donnie had more so burns than lashes! His hands and forearms are pretty discoloured from chemical and heat burns. Also electrical burns on his head from the fourfold trap episode! But his mask largely covers that. This is only noticeable if you stand close to him so doubtful it would be seen in any art, but he has thin scarring all across his body from April ripping him apart! Sort of spiderwebs around him. It will come up at some point, but right now it just isn't notable in the fic. And then he recently cut his thigh open on the glass at the end of frayed so he would still have stitches from that.

Mikey, before the events of the book, has a spiderweb crack on the back of his shell from the letter falling on him from season one. And then he has a canine bite on his left arm from Rahzar. I just assumed his brothers were so focused on protecting him that he rarely got scarred since in my watch throughs, he got majorly hurt the least? Less visible scarring from shackles compared to Raph, but he still has some too. After... that chapter though??? Oh boy. With the bandages off, Mikey is now missing his right eye completely and the wound is scarred over. His shell is slightly cracked and the back of his thighs have minor scars as well. Bruising all over. Not having a good time rn.

Rise

Just because I'm already doing 2012, here are Rise as well! They have less scars to show they have had less battles and because like 2012 Donnie pointed out - they heal a lot faster so most of the listed marks are quite faint unless they are major/recurrent or you are really looking closely

Leo has small knicks on his shoulders from his odaci and katannas! He was clumsy with pulling them out and they left marks until he got more skilled. He also has scarring on his right wrist from the cuffs in season two. He was pulling and yanking on that thing like crazy. Scarring on his right knee now from Shredder slamming his gauntlet into his knee at the end of frayed and minor slashes from breaking through that window and cutting up his skin.

Raph has three slash marks at the top of his shell from defending Donnie from Shredder and it's slightly indented by Shredder stepping on it. His fists are also heavily scarred and his knuckles are constantly swollen and misshapened.

Donnie has slash marks on his soft shell from Shredder ripping into his battle shell and reaching his soft shell. He also has some burn and chemical scars from his lab and down the center of his plastron is a thin line from when SHELLDON tried to kill him and minor shackle marks on his wrists and ankles.

Mikey has a ton of tiny scars, mainly from skidding across the ground and cutting himself on glass/sharpnel. His shell is significantly scratched up from sliding against the ground as well/being thrown around.

-----

Anyways, hoped that all helps!! I am a huge fanatic of scars and normalizing them - I recently joined the Leo's with my own knee scars after needing two surgeries to fix it lol. If you do make fanart, PLEASE tag me so I can repost it and cry even louder LAHAKSHJSH ily and drink some water!!

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tattered remains #rottmnt #asks #scars #frayed knots #frayed

6 notes · View notes

wanderingrain · 1 year

Text

Blogging through Till the World Ends Episode 3

Every time they show me a wide shot of this apartment I can't help but think about TharnType. I'm sorry.

Ew what are the hets doing here? Also where is this gang holed up that they're still here?

Lol not them arguing over who gets to kill Art.

No it's 4am and the way I just screeched!! The fake blood! Golf just killed a man with a lichen knife. Why are you dropping the knife? Did Art just kill bubblegum girl? They've both gone feral!

At least Golf seems to be traumatized after killing someone now cause I thought for a minute we were gonna breeze right past that.

Major props to Art's actor for just straight up sobbing like that.

Once again Golf showing his obsessive tendencies. He's known this boy for three days and is unhealthily attached. I would normally wave it off as "just one of those tv show things" but they said he only knew his girlfriend for a week and was overpossessive of her too. Seems like a pattern to me.

I hope you're gonna turn more lights on before you try and stitch him up.

Nope we're doing this in the semi-dark.

Art's face I can't

Babes you can barely handle him touching the wound with a cotton ball and you're asking him to sew it up? You know you're gonna need to hold still for that right? Maybe we should break out the drinking alcohol.

Wow i really don't need these sound effects thanks.

Oh good it's over.

Wait shower? After you just got stitches? Wait.

Wow this bed is huge.

Golf already looks so in love. I love how Art is clutching the blanket to his chest lol

ugh I'm so soft for hand holding. I love how quietly they're talking. I love how the camera doesn't want to focus on them lol

Babes this is the second time he's called you cute actually.

The way Art looks so scandalized from being called cute!

Oh so it's more than just a 2 person pattern.

I love that Art is just casually playing with Golf's fingers as they talk. We need more casual touches like this where the touch isn't the focal point of the scene.

Not the instrumental Christmas music again! Why Thailand why?

The way Art's hand is fully resting over Golf's now while he's trying to comfort him. The way they didn't make a big deal about it and they're just allowed to touch each other casually.

Both of these boys are good actors. The emotion, the body language. Good job boys.

I'm not sure I believe Art would really leave the apartment again after what just happened but I'm willing to suspend my disbelief.

🤣🤣🤣 Not Bubblegum gang girl still laying on the ground! Guess she's alive then. Didn't expect to be getting her pov.

Shut up Art! Do you want to alert Bubblegum to your presence? If you get taken hostage by the same girl twice in 24 hours I swear...

Ohhh is he about to remember? Nope nevermind.

Oh good Bubblegum's got his wallet.

Breakfast on the- why would you leave the apartment? How do you know the roof is safe? Ya'll literally almost died less than 12 hours ago in this apartment complex and now you want to go up to the roof?! Are you inane?

WOAH OK that's a lot

Anybody else feel weird about bubblegum touching him when he's still all sweaty from sex?

Is he not a new recruit after all? Then why were they trying to pressure him into killing someone in the beginning?

Honestly this gang doesn't scare me so I don't really feel much about them having Golf's picture. Lol.

If Golf and Art would just stay locked up in the apartment the gang would probably never find them unless they went door to door kicking in doors. So I'm sure some sort of shenanigans will ensue to make sure our main characters are dumb enough to expose themselves. I'm betting that Art remembers what happened and tries to run away for the third time and gets caught by bubblegum and she uses him to lure Golf out.

I still think one of the gang members is probably Art's brother because that's usually how these things work. Or maybe Golf's brother has something to do with the gang. Either way I'm sure they'll be saved by some kind of brotherly intervention.

On to episode 4

#Till the World Ends #Episode 3 #I really thought the 18+ rating was for the onscreen death #Imagine my surprise #Really lured my Ace self into a false sense of security there #I will be more mentally prepared next time #You don't get the jump on me next time show #WanderingRain

3 notes · View notes

thyandrawrites · 2 years

Text

I received an ask that got me thinking about how Touya became a villain after seeing his dad get the credit for arresting Stain, so naturally that sent me down a rabbit hole of speculation lol

Beyond the basics... Aka the fact that Stain was the first person who had resonance with society to ever address that heroism had been corrupted to the point that there were now people in the business for purely egotistical reasons... Which was already something that would resonate with Touya... I started thinking

What if Stain's background as a former hero in training also hit Touya close to home? It would make sense, wouldn't it? Stain dropped out of the industry by choice, and Touya did not, but what both got from that brief experience was a lot of bitterness about the current status quo and its mixed up values.

So then I went to reread the chapter about Stain's video tape to try and guess at what Touya would see in it. And I was like. There's something about that phrasing that sounds familiar. And then it hit me:

I'm gonna tear my hair out. Lmao. Stain's speech echoes the same language Touya used when he was 13.

The phrase I highlighted in japanese means "modern heroes." Which already struck me as a peculiar way for young Touya to address his dad's kind even when I hadn't yet made the connection with Stain — especially when they're normally just called "heroes" or "pros".

But they're both talking about the same societal issue. When they criticize "modern heroes," they're both attacking the very foundation of superhuman society, aka the one that was built when quirks started to get properly regulated — when using one's quirks publicly became a profitable profession through heroism, rather than just a crime that got people in jail indiscriminately. A profession which, should I add, is only ever policed by the HPSC, the one in charge of handing out licenses, and no one else. So there's little actual internal investigations when heroes are not as morally upstanding as they should be.

We know from the tales of the original Destro and from the spinoff Vigilantes that society used to be a lot more chaotic than this, and that heroism started out as a bandaid solution to fix the wider issue of criminality. But we know from the main story that over the years things got only marginally better: after the All Might era, criminality is now at its lowest point in history, but that doesn't mean that every social issue got solved. In fact, heroes are still bandaids that stitch an open wound. So much so that heroes themselves have become corrupted over time.

This is what Stain addresses. "Heroes" strayed from what the word eiyuu originally meant, someone selflessly and self-sacrificially dedicated to the bettering of society, and became a term that defines a much more self-centered profession that caters more to heroes' egos than it does to the public. People get in the industry for money and fame, to become successful and applauded. Modern heroes are fakes who only care about their images.

Obviously, Touya can relate to that. Casted out as a failure at such a young age, he saw for himself the result of that corruption, of that obsession with self-satisfaction

And even as a thirteen-year-old, he already possesses the intellect and the critical thinking necessary to see his father's arrogance as part of a wider societal issue:

To his dad, and to modern hero society as a whole, kids with strong quirks are just a commodity. They call it "heroic potential" so they can justify what they did to Keigo, what they did to Touya. But at the end of the day the truth is that the system is engineered to weed out the unexploitable, and milk the few "talented" ones for every penny's worth of fame they can scrap.

And that's why simply talking about it won't solve the issue, and why both of them conclude that they need to bring violence into the equation to finally change something.

I'm willing to bet that for Touya — who had lived up that point without having his pain ever be acknowledged — hearing Stain validate his conclusions by coming to similar ones was a big motivator. Especially since Stain wasn't a rando hero serial killer who filled his mouth with big words, but a former hero hopeful himself. Having experienced the egoism that runs rampant in the industry, he had come to reject heroes as a whole, just like Touya.

And that's without counting the sting of seeing his father, one of such egotistical, self-obsessed fakes himself, get praised by the masses for ridding society of the problem Stain posed —

Stain's word had the right kind of resonance to make people question the status quo and take matters into their own hands.

In other words, the threat Stain posed was that of making people think for themselves.

In that sense, Dabi truly kept his word. He really dedicated himself to making Stain's will a reality.

#Bnha meta #Meta:dabi #Meta:stain #My post #Welp. Here it goes #I hope someone finds this an interesting read #Bnha spoilers #Dabi #Stain #Todoroki touya #Bnha stain

352 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

First Impressions

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by @eversonaive : Could do a fic on the reader meeting Juice when he has the sign stuck to his chest only to find out later he is the club's intelligence officer lol

Part 2 can be found Here

Warnings: language, Juice being an embarrassed lil cutie

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I loved writing this. Flustered Juice gives me life lmao. I hope it’s what you had in mind! I peppered in a couple other of our SAMCRO boys because why not?

Join my group-chat here: (X)

SOA Taglist: @adela-topaz-caelon @garbinge @i-just-read-stuff @multiyfandomgirl40 @masterlistforimagines @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @kkim120 @toni9 @everyhowlmarksthedead @unicornucopia-fuckers @mayans-sauce @shadow-of-wonder (If you want to be tagged in any of my writing please let me know! xo)

You couldn’t pretend that you weren’t surprised, and a little off-put by the scene in front of you. You looked around, wondering why you felt like you were the only one who saw what you were seeing. Everyone else was walking by, minding their own business, but you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t notice.

Crouching down, you pressed your fingers gently against the side of his neck, and you were rewarded with a fairly steady pulse. Relief flooded through you, glad you weren’t going to have to report a dead body. However, you weren’t quite sure how to handle the scene in front of you.

Gently nudging him, you tried to wake him up. He let out a soft groan but didn’t fully wake up. With a heavy sigh, you shook him a little harder but weren’t able to wake him. Pressing your lips together into a thin line, you patted the side of his face. You saw his brows furrow and twitch and you knew that he was almost awake.

“Hey,” you shook him and patted his cheek again, “you good?”

With a groan and what seemed like more effort than it should’ve taken, he slowly started to open his eyes. Part of you wanted to laugh because he seemed like he was probably going to be alright, but more than anything you were just confused.

“You alright? Looks like you’ve had…a time.”

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at the state of himself. The fact that he didn’t seem shocked and appalled spoke volumes. With a quiet grunt, he forced himself to his feet.

“Do I have to be worried about you?” you couldn’t help but to look him up and down again. With a chuckle and a shake of his head he reassured you that he was fine, which did little to actually make you feel better, “There somewhere I should be take you?”

He laughed, “No. Don’t worry. Thank you for, uh, waking me up. Way better than getting kicked by the cops,” he shook his head.

“Small miracles,” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he glanced down at the sign on his chest and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was weighing the pros and cons of ripping it off right then and there, “I should go. I’m uh,” he gestured to the cardboard, “apparently late for my eight o’clock feeding.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Well that’s unfortunate.”

With a deep breath he pulled the sign from his chest and you both cringed. He cursed under his breath from the pain of it before folding it and tucking it underneath his arm. He gave you a lopsided grin and a small wave before turning and walking in the other direction away from you. You stood there, feeling like you should be offering him a shirt, or something to at least tie around his waist, but he seemed pretty unbothered by it all, so you let him go. You shook your head to yourself as you continued on your way, unable to believe what a weird day you’d already had.

A few days went by and you hadn’t forgotten about your run-in on the street that morning. It was a tough scene to forget. You didn’t want to believe that that was going to be the first and last time you ever saw him. If nothing else, you just wanted some closure on the situation, and you also wanted to know how the hell he ended up like that.

Your mind had wandered back to that situation as you stood outside your car waiting for the tow truck. You knew that your car was on its last leg to begin with, and that you should’ve set about looking for a new one some time ago, but you just kept putting it off. The thought of shopping for one, and then paying for one was overwhelming. You were paying for it in an entirely different way now, though. You knew that fixing whatever was wrong with your car was probably going to cost more than it was worth. So, to distract yourself from thinking about that, you thought about literally anything else as you sat half propped up onto your hood.

You’d gone to Teller-Morrow one other time, maybe twice, since you’d moved just outside of Charming. You didn’t remember anything about it, though—you were in and out quick for an oil change or something equally innocuous. There weren’t a whole lot of options for mechanics to begin with, let alone ones that would also tow. Plus you figured since they were local, it wouldn’t take them too long to get to you.

About twenty minutes later the tow-truck pulled up, and you were a mix of relieved and apprehensive. Two men stepped out, and your first thought was that they couldn’t have carried themselves more differently from each other if they tried. The taller one approached you, adjusting his beanie slightly as he did, while the other scampered around to start hooking the truck up to your car.

“So,” he walked up to you, a small smile on his face for a moment as he looked at you, “what seems to be the problem?”

You chuckled and shook your head as you clocked the name stitched into his work shirt, “Well, it stopped running. That’s about all I know, Opie,” you smiled at him.

He laughed, nodding his head slightly, “Sounds like a pretty serious issue, then.”

“I’d say so.”

He glanced back to make sure that your car had been hooked up alright, “You need to be dropped off somewhere, or you got a ride?”

You sighed, resting your hand on the back of your neck as you thought, “Would I be able to ride back to the shop with you guys?”

He nodded, “Sure thing. Long as you don’t mind Kip staring at you the whole time,” he gestured over to the man who was waiting by the door of the tow truck.

You laughed, “Staring I can handle.”

When they pulled into the lot at the mechanics, Opie got out and instructed Kip to take care of the rest. He looked over to you and gestured to the office, “Gemma will get you all set up. We’ll get it right on the lift and try to figure out what’s going on.”

You nodded, “Thank you, appreciate it.”

You knocked lightly on the door to the office and she called for you to come in. She got you all squared away with your paperwork to get everything started. You let her know that if it ended up being more than a certain amount to just not bother and scrap it, or to give it back and you would take care of that part yourself. You weren’t in a position to be paying more than the car was worth. There was sympathy present in her eyes as she listened to you, nodding along. You hated the feeling of pity but you couldn’t deny that you’d landed yourself into a bit of a hole.

She was walking you back out of the office, “We’ll give you a call when we’ve got some numbers for you, sweetheart.”

“Sounds good. Thank you guys so much.”

“Need us to call you a cab?”

You shook your head, “No, no I’ll be alright. Thank you though.”

You were walking across the lot, pulling out your phone as you did to try and figure out who you were going to call to come and pick you up. There was a sudden influx of noise and voices. And despite the fact that you heard it, you still didn’t look up.

The only thing that snapped you out of your thoughts was the feeling of someone’s shoulder bumping into yours. You looked up and both of you were in the middle of apologizing when your eyes met his. Neither of you could hide the shock on your faces as you took each other in.

He looked a lot different when he wasn’t coming out of a mild coma. And also when he was fully dressed with an MC kutte on. You’d missed out on the fact that he was handsome in the midst of worrying about his well-being the last time you saw him.

“Oh shit,” he laughed, “hey.”

“Uh, hey,” you couldn’t help but to stare at him, “I didn’t…expect to see you here. Or again in general, for that matter.”

Another man in a kutte appeared, draping his arm around the shoulder of the man that you were talking to, “Juicy,” he said, “who’s your friend?”

He wore his nerves on his face, “Um. She’s not, uh, she’s—”

You cut him off to save him the trouble, holding out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he let your name roll off his tongue, “nice to meet you. I’m Jax,” he paused, looking back and forth between you and the man next to him, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, “Sorry to interrupt,” you could see that he was biting back a laugh.

“No, you’re…you’re good,” you reassured him, “Nothing to interrupt. Just, um, a little surprised by,” you gestured to the two of them and to the clubhouse behind them, “all of this.”

“Well then I gotta ask,” Jax continued to stare at Juice who seemed to be getting more and more shy by the second, “how do you know Charming’s favorite Puerto Rican Intelligence Officer?”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped past your lips, “Intelligence Officer?”

Jax nodded, clapping Juice on the back as though he thought he was hyping him up, “For the club, yea. Can find out anything about anyone. Also our resident tech guy.”

You chuckled, unable to lie and say that you weren’t a little impressed, “Impressive. Guess we didn’t have time to get into all that last time we met.”

“Oh?” Jax looked back and forth between the two of you, embarrassment creeping onto Juice’s features.

“Yea, he was running a behind schedule. Had places to be.”

Jax looked over at him, “Where the hell did you have to be that could’ve been more important, bro?”

Juice ran his hands down his face, knowing that he was going to have to cop to it sooner or later, “When we met I was, um…she actually…” he shook his head, “She’s the one who woke me up the other day. Made sure I was alright.”

The entire incident had clearly already faded from Jax’s memory because he looked as lost as he had been before Juice said anything. You smiled, “I made sure he eventually made it to his eight o’clock feeding.”

Recognition flashed across Jax’s face and he laughed, “Jesus. Sorry you had to be a part of that.”

“Sure, her you’ll apologize to,” Juice rolled his eyes.

“She didn’t deserve it,” Jax chuckled and shook his head, “Well it was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’ll leave Juice to try and clean up whatever mess he might’ve made.”

He walked away from the both of you and you could head him laughing to himself as he approached the rest of the guys. You and Juice stood there facing each other, neither one of you really knowing what to say.

You broke the silence, “Won’t lie to you, Juice,” it felt nice to finally be able to address him as something, “over the past few days when I’ve been trying to think about what your life was like for it to land you in that situation, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“You’ve been thinkin’ about me?” he smirked.

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “You made quite the impression,” you looked him in the eyes, “I’m glad you’re alright though.”

He chuckled, “Not the worst thing they’ve ever done to me.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Well that’s a little concerning.”

“Sorry you got, uh, subjected to that,” he shook his head, “wrong place, wrong time.”

You waited for him to meet your gaze and you flashed him a smile, “I wouldn’t quite say that.”

There was a light in his eyes that was so enticing, “Right. Well. I’m glad I got a chance to make a better first impression. Sort of. Maybe,” he laughed. There were a few beats of silence before he spoke up again, “What brings you here anyway?”

You nodded towards the garage, “Car broke down.”

“Shit.”

Your laugh was a hollow, “Yea. Fucking sucks. Hoping they can fix it without bleeding me dry.”

Juice thought hard about it for a few moments, “I’ll take a look at it. I’ll see what I can do, see if I can get you a deal or something.”

“Yea?” you couldn’t hide your relief.

He nodded, “Yea. Least I could do.”

“You’d really be saving my ass.”

He laughed, “Guess that would make us even.”

You chuckled and nodded, “Guess so.”

He paused for a moment, eyes glued to the pavement, “If you want, you could, uh, you could give me your number,” he looked up at you, “and I’ll give you a call when I get it all sorted.”

You smiled, “Alright. Sounds good,” you held out your hand for his phone and quickly added your number to his contacts, “Hope to hear from you soon, Juice.”

“Juan,” he said quietly as he took the phone back from you.

“Hm?”

He looked at you, “Juan. My name is Juan.”

You smiled, “Well, then, Juan, I’ll talk to you soon,” you paused and bit back a laugh, “Try to keep yourself out of sticky situations, alright?”

“Well now at least I have you to call just in case,” he smirked.

“Won’t be able to come and get you until you fix my car,” you chuckled, “So at least be careful for a few days.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Good,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug, “Thank you, Juan, seriously.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” you flashed him a smile before turning and continuing your way out of the parking lot.

You chanced a look back over your shoulder and saw that he was still standing there staring at you with a smile and a dreamy look on his face. You laughed and shook your head as you turned back around. There was something to be said about memorable first impressions, and something told you that you had landed yourself in an adventure when you met him. You were excited to find out what was in store.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

217 notes · View notes

steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

S5 Ep 14: So If You Put a Fraction Into a Duel Disk, the Card Explodes

We left on quite the cliffhanger last episode, so I’ll fill you in:

I did not get the haircut.

Like I seriously considered getting a Zigfried for a cool 3 or 4 minutes there, but then I decided to wait a couple of days and I basically forgot.

But, back to the arc finale, Seto has decided to walk, not run, to the Kaiba lab in order to fix the virus rapidly eating his entire company.

I just want to point out that Zigfried went through a LOT of work to get Seto Kiaba to go “uggggh” turn around, and pretend to calmly walk away. I’m used to Seto losing his nut kind of a lot and blowing things up but this season he’s like “be chill be chill be chill” so that the entire world doesn’t think he’s a spaz on TV.

And little aside about Seto’s design choices here, I fell down a hole of interior design videos, and can I just say: apparently these wood frame things on the wall are back in style? Good on you, 2002(3?) Seto Kaiba. Don’t think that current designers are painting them purple but...we’re halfway there to Yugioh fashion.

Meanwhile, Pharaoh decides to remind everyone that these stakes are hella low. The worst that happens is that Zigfried deletes the plane that Yugi needs to fly home...which would be an impressive virus.

Like it’s hard to tell if Yami even has a solid concept of “capitalism” and whether or not he cares about or understands the makeup of Seto’s company (which up till now has operated like a small country and not a business...which is a little more Pharaoh’s understanding. Either way...hard to tell if Yami would shed two tears for the loss of Kaiba corp.)

And, despite what I say in the caps, I feel like Leon and Zigfried are the first villains we’ve ever had that Yugi and Pharaoh didn’t unintentionally disclose that they are 2 people to. Zigfried and Leon are just...completely oblivious to how effed up Yugi’s bean is. They think that’s just a normal kid and lol no dudes...y’all got distracted by Seto Kabia but you have a literal Egyptian God just hovering around in the background and dating 3 people by accident.

Like when the show shelves the main storyline, it is very funny how it’s all “And we’re gonna put the Pharaoh crisis on hold--just put a pin in it. No one will notice this child is two nervous wrecks stitched together” and then Yugi and Yami just kinda hold it in and watch all patiently until it’s their turn to get off the bench.

(read more under the cut)

In the giant computer tower, Seto Kaiba shouts out a string of orders and numbers, admired the many sonar detector looking windows open on every monitor, and then sat down at his desk to like...check the firewall, I guess?

The virus is past the firewall. It’s um...it’s inside the firewall, pretty sure that was the point, but youknow, it’s a kid’s show so they’re just throwing out computer stuff that has no meaning to the writers of this show.

Mokuba thinks fondly of how Seto Kaiba has never screwed him over (which I mean...maybe not on purpose, ((except for that one time he did screw him over on purpose to get Gozaburo Kaiba to accidentally give Seto Kaiba the company, but you could say that was a grander scheme that he knew Mokuba would see through, which...)) but Seto certainly has screwed Mokuba over accidentally. At least once.)

And meanwhile, Yami fixes everything through card shenanigans.

So here’s the shenanigan this episode: I don’t go over cards here but this one requires a limited amount of explanation.

So every round the golden castle deletes half of Yugi’s cards. So he was like...I’ll just draw down to one card. They can’t delete half a card...so that means the card must delete one of the two cards on the field which means it must delete itself.

...which is like the closest Yugioh will probably ever get to abusing a glitch to do a speedrunning tactic like GDQ.

Anyway, like I stated in the title: there are no fractions allowed in Yugioh. If you do that to your priceless one-of-a-kind card you got from winning one of Pegasus’ murder tournies, it will irreparably bust the card.

I’m sure at least one of you will correct me with the proper way to insert a fraction into your duel disk. Cuz like...as I say multiple times so we never forget, I barely pay attention to this card game and I’m just flying by the seat of my pants.

I want to say Seto and Mokuba were in the hacker chairs for like...3 minutes maybe before they realized “oh...Yugi fixed it...” and walked the half a mile back to the duel arena.

and also, as I’m looking at Seto’s glasses here, I just realized...all of Kaiba’s team wears sunglasses all the time. Inside, outside, night, or day...

They haven’t outright said this...but what if those aren’t sunglasses?

Is Roland and that other Roland wearing fancy cyber glasses? They are, right? Because they wear them indoors?

Damn, they can’t take a piss without being on call with Kaiba Corp, can they?

Now the problem is...Yugi played all of his cards (he has two in front of him face down, but none in his deck) and after milling himself, this means he’s now basically a sitting duck for Leon to take the title of “King of Games.”

Leon insists that he defend whatever scraps are left of his card honor and not duel a person who is carrying no cards and Yugi was like “COME AT ME BRO THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I KNOW I’M ALIVE.”

He didn’t even have to do a horror on Leon, he just...played cards good? I skipped it, I’ll be honest, but overall Leon’s card honor was...saved? Maybe? I mean he also go destroyed when his competitor had not a single card in his duel disk so...

...Leon will have to work on his card honor off screen because he’s pretty well humiliated at this point.

But stumbling onto the playing field like he’s half dazed/daydrunk, Zigfried is like “You forgot I already won, bastards!”

Which is when we find out that Zigfried’s “delete all” virus failed to press “enter” and deleted basically nothing. Just like when my Mom attempts to send something in Gmail but doesn’t press “Send” and tells me that Google is down and broken.

Sorry my bro has informed me that he ALSO has had to help my Mother locate the “Send” button and I just...I know she absolutely did that but I’m in denial that this Riddle of the Sphinx has happened to her multiple times.

Honestly, the pep talk we get from Leon at the end to cheer up his bro was a whole lot of “we will pick ourselves up and we’ll do better next time. Together.” and sure you can translate that as “we’ll be honest next time” or you can translate that as “next time we will be not nearly as obvious about inserting a virus into their computer until it is done doing the job, bro.”

Just like Dartz, we didn’t really get a whole lot of retribution or closure when it comes to Zigfried. But, unlike Dartz, Zigfried didn’t do too much murder, so I guess this is fine. He tried to cheat in a card game...

...and I guess tried to delete Kaiba Corp but youknow...

...people let him have that. The police saw the ticket of “this man tried to delete Kaiba Corp” and they just...didn’t arrest him. The judge saw that ticket and didn’t put out a warrant. They just let Zigfried have this, almost like “better luck next time, ya?”

And then Roland clocked out for the day and went home, thus ending this arc.

Look at all these characters, most of which we never saw duel even one card.

We also got one shot of Mai for some reason although she was not in this arc.

AAAHHHH. Every time I’m like “the show is done screwing geography” we get another freakin geography spook!

But we went back to California in order to get a scene of these guys in an airport to get a flight to Japan...

which means Rex and Weevil just...were they shipped home by the Kaibas? Because way to ditch getting arrested by the American Government, hot damn. They are...literally terrorists who destroyed a Caltrain in a plot to kill everyone in the world so like...really surprised Rex and Weevil are in public...but maybe all the FBI were dead at the time so they just didn’t know?

Meanwhile, Duke has to go back to Death Valley and call a tow truck for his car, RIP.

I sure hope he got PTO during this stunt and isn’t going home to a pink slip.

I’m not sure of Dukes life or anything going on with Duke. I’m sure the thing about Serenity is him joking because we have all forgotten about that girl by this point...but also...is Duke...still living in the Tenderloin? The crime rate is very, very high and the ground isn’t solid, so it will liquefy if there’s an Earthquake, but it is one of the few places in the Bay Area that doesn’t light on fire every year. He has that going for him.

I just really hope Duke moves out of the Tenderloin one of these days, he needs a better life.

Meanwhile, Rebecca does one last crime.

This is like a post-epidemic reaction to a hug, but in 2002(3?).

I don’t think I’ll miss Rebecca too much. Wanted to like her more, but she was under-utilized, like most of the characters on Yugioh. Not even just talking girl characters here--most characters on Yugioh are super under-utilized, just Tristan Wallflowers doing nothing, but also being selectively OP as hell about very specific things they never, ever need to do.

Speaking of the devil:

Yugi...just saved his entire company...

But Mokuba is just has to make sure to make it seem like they owed Mokuba and not the other way around. Just in case.

So off they go on this massive plane. It’s probably more to do with the length of the trip as to why the plane is so big but also...

This plane is overcompensating.

But before we analyze that, lets close the book on Seto Kaiba’s very short therapy arc. Overall, it was a nice distraction, but I can see why people call it a filler arc, as it really doesn’t affect...anything going on in the major plotlines, which makes me think it could have been a movie or a game or something. But overall, it’s not bad, it’s just not what you’d expect if you were a Western audience.

Like I’m preaching to the choir, but typically, Western stories are entirely plot focused, and so our arcs always give or take away from that plot. But in a Eastern story arc, it may instead be character focused, where the climax is a character evolving or coming to some sort of cathartic realization, which this arc was, in a big way. We still had some plot, because this is a Shonen, but overall it was about characters, and specifically whether or not Leon and his bro would reconcile or change--which they did.

We did get to see a little more growth on Seto in that he...didn’t go bonkers and hallucinate during a card game. It’s been a while since we’ve had him not do that. Seto was very chill this arc, which makes sense, it was a very chill slice of life arc for everyone involved.

So, next we move on to the next one, which bro has informed me...is

still not Bakura.

According to Bro, the next arc didn’t even air in the Japanese version of the show? Like he’s got a lot of spicy Yugioh headcanons so he could be wrong (He did tell me that he thought that Zigfried was Seto Kaiba’s ex boyfriend when he saw this as a kid which...that sure is a way to interpret this arc, and it probably wasn’t just my little brother who went down that thought tube there...)

(Bro Note: To be fair, I didn’t watch much of this arc as a kid.)

But he says the next arc was originally a movie. But they released it in the States as episodes to be part of S5, just to put more episodes in there. Which, if he’s correct, makes it seem like we’re getting like the Mulan 2 experience kind of shoved in between this arc and the next

But um..

according to bro it has virtually no card games.

.......

I’m so used to only capping 10 minutes an episode, what?

Anyway, until then, here’s the link to read the rest of these from the start in chrono order:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

I’m kinda itching to do a Season Zero, it’s been a hot minute--so those take a little longer to do, especially since I need to go to a different site I haven’t...checked out yet...I’ll be back...eventually? I just know that at some point in Season Zero they fight it out with yo-yo’s and I want to see it.

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #S5 #Ep14 #Seto Kaiba #zigfried von schroeder #leon von schroeder #Yugi Muto #Joey Wheeler #Tristan Taylor #Mokuba #Tea Gardner #Duke Devlin #Rebecca Hawkins #recap #photo recap #episode recap

53 notes · View notes

kckenobi · 3 years

Text

First Line Tag Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

Thanks for the tag @katierosefun and @meantforinfinitesadness! Sorry it took me like 10 years to do this lol

—

Bloodlines

Someone is going to die in this story. Though none of them knew that yet.

In Control

Obi-Wan was seriously contemplating the need for a set of earplugs.

From a Certain Point of View

His façade was cracking now.

What I Want

Apparently, Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t know how to read.

Reflections

It didn’t hurt anymore. At least there was that.

As I Fall

Blasterfire, then silence. That was the last thing Anakin remembered.

Crystals in the Snow

Cody had seen snow before.

When the Music Stops

Anakin was already starting to squirm in the tuxedo.

Ghost Stories

The tabloids that called Anakin Skywalker the Hero With No Fear had clearly never heard the way he screamed like a youngling at the mere suggestion of a nearby spider.

Some Things You Just Can’t Speak About

It was easier to drag himself from nightmares with the lights turned on.

Break Your Fall

Anakin was sitting up in bed before he even processed that something was wrong.

Sleepless night, winless fight (with @katierosefun)

Obi-Wan was becoming exceptionally skilled at acting like everything was fine.

A Long Way Down

“Obi-Wan, answer me honestly. Can you do this?”

Rainfall

Obi-Wan has started avoiding the mirror.

Old Wounds

When he saw the starship touch down on Melida/Daan’s rocky surface, Obi-Wan felt hot tears prick his eyes.

Flipped

The second-worst day of Anakin Skywalker’s life was about to get infinitely worse.

You Haunt All My What Ifs

When he left her, the galaxy cheered.

Holes (with @katierosefun)

“Another happy landing,” Obi-Wan muttered as the ship shuddered to a stop.

Keepsakes

“Now this was a look.”

Loose stitches (with @katierosefun)

He didn’t know what was happening at first—just that one moment, there was nothing, and in the next, there was a suffocating sensation in his chest, and he knew that something was wrong.

In Memoriam

“So, how much did you bribe her?”

—

Lmao I always knew I used this as a gimmick but now I feel exposed cause everyone can see it now—but I tend to always start with a one-line attention-grabber that doesn’t make a ton of sense out of context and leaves you with questions (I.e. “his facade was cracking now” or “it didn’t hurt anymore” or “when he left her, the galaxy cheered”) and then I backpedal and give the context. Bloodlines has actually started to break that for me a little, because I didn’t want to start every chapter the exact same way the way I do everything else lol

I think my favorite beginning is bloodlines—Someone is going to die in this story. Though none of them know that yet. I’ve kinda played around with this third-person omniscient narrator telling the story—like, a lot of the time it’s Anakin, but then every once in a while the narrator will chime in like “he didn’t know why it felt familiar. He wouldn’t know, if fact, for another 2 years” or something to give out information Anakin doesn’t have but we do—dramatic irony and all that. So that line is the narrator’s first bomb that gets dropped, and there’s a few others throughout (and still to come!)

Oh, and by the way, someone is going to die. Next chapter (hopefully) coming next weekend......!

I’m pretty sure most of my writer mutuals did this months ago, but just in case—

No-pressure tags: @pandora15 @giggles-and-freckles @stolen-pen-name23 @obirain @vizslasaber and anyone else who wants to join in!

#tag game #fic related asks #even tho it’s not an ask lol #kasey talks about writing

18 notes · View notes

derryqueenx · 2 years

Note

wasnt sure how to go about these requests lol but mistreated by the authorities set in the sweet universe for your bingo card 🤗 please and thank you

Mistreated By Authorities.

Word Count: 3478

TW: minor violence, homophobic language, like, major homophobic stuff going on guys. Proceed with caution. noncon threats.

Send through your prompts and any Noel/Julian related characters (if you have one in mind! If not I’ll just write whatever I feel works best for said prompt) Accepting prompts for Boosh/Sweet/Nathan Barley/Noelian/Blue Song and any other thing of theirs that I’ve missed.

There’s a few prompts you might be a bit unsure about - so feel free to send me a question, or TV Tropes have good articles on a lot of them for explanation!

Blue = already submitted

They shouldn’t have been here to begin with.

It was a stupid idea, really. They should have known what would have happened from the second they stepped foot into the small town. It just felt... different. The air seemed thicker than normal with a bitter taste on the tongue. It felt like a ghost town, despite the crowds of people wandering the markets with their kids.

Stitch wasn’t oblivious to the stares they were getting either. Every time Pete would grab his hand enthusiastically to pull him towards the newest shiny object he’d found in one of the stalls, jumping up and down like an excited puppy.

Some people would look away instantly once Stitch caught them looking, judging. But others would linger. Their eyes staring holes through the entwined fingers, mentally trying to pry them apart with their sneers.

It was pretty clear to Stitch early on that this town wasn’t as caught up in the times of social normality as the cities were.

At first he wanted to play it safe, keep Pete within arm’s reach and remain looking simply ‘friendly’, but every time he looked down at the enthusiastic and wide eyed face of his boyfriend, his heart melted, and he would pull him in tighter, unable to resist himself and Pete from their love.

Screw what everyone else thought. They were just stopping by, anyway. They’d be gone by tomorrow.

It was Pete’s idea, actually. To spend the day in a small town, exploring their shops and local scenery. He said it would be ‘fun’ to see how other people live outside of the city, and to spend the day together doing something different.

Some ‘fun’ that turned out to be.

They were only a 2 hours drive from home, and decided to book a hotel for the night – with one of their friends going to check on the puppies, of course, and they’d decided to go see and movie. A usual, boring couples date, but one that Pete loved. He adored the simple things in life, and the simple shows of affection – if one had to narrow down his 2 love languages it would certainly be Physical Touch and Quality Time. Something Stitch was more than happy to provide.

Everything was going fine, just a standard date night, but it was when they began their trek back to the hotel that it all went to shit.

“My favourite part was when she got her powers!”

“You were crushing on her the whole movie, that’s why.”

Pete shrugged casually, not denying it. “She was moody and sassy. That seems to be my type.” He winked, nudging into Stitch’s side playfully as they walked down the dimly lit and abandoned street, only the blinking fluorescents of the streetlights paving their way.

They continued talking and laughing while Pete hugged into Stitch’s arm for warmth, passing a bus shelter where a few seemingly drunk young adults were loitering. They looked to be the same as them – early twenties, maybe, but Stitch paid them no mind. The pair continued walking, only focused on one another as Pete continued listing off his thoughts on the movie whilst Stitch remained silent but attentive.

“Bunch of faggots.”

Stitch heard one of them slur out as they walked past. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he paused, intent on spinning around and lashing out at the man, but was stopped only when Pete tugged on his arm, bringing his attention back to him.

“Just ignore it, Stitch. Come on.” Pete insisted, pulling Stitch along as they kept walking, ignoring the men behind them.

Pete was never a confrontational person. The only time he’d ever seen him enact a fight or argument in any way was when he came and punched Stitch in the bar, and that was only because of the sense of betrayal he’d felt. Any other circumstances, Pete would choose to merely walk away and avoid it all together.

That’s where he and Stitch differed.

Although Stitch was much more quiet and mellow, he had a no-nonsense attitude when it came to certain things. And someone insulting him and his boyfriend qualified under those certain things. Which was probably why Pete was so adamant right now that they kept walking.

Stitch listened, allowing Pete to lead him away for the simple fact that he didn’t want this to ruin Pete’s night, but then the voices behind them continued.

“Probably going to go blow each other off, hey?”

“Oi! Aint you old enough to be his dad, mate?”

“He probably don’t even know how to use his dick properly anymore, eh?”

“Oi, sweetcheeks, why don’t you come hang with us and we’ll show you how a dick is meant to feel, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on ya.”

Stitch managed to ignore the comments about himself. It was all things he’d both heard and thought of before, but it was the comment directed to Pete that set him off.

As if already aware of that fact too, Stitch heard Pete give out one more warning tone of “Stitch-“ but it was no use. Stitch spun around, releasing his arm from Pete as he stormed back to the group that were now standing around the shelter snickering proudly of themselves. “What did you say to him?” He spat furiously, eyebrows furrowed as he stared them all down, fuming.

Stitch was easily much taller than they were, but they outnumbered him 3 to 1. He didn’t care though. He was too enraged to focus on anything else.

The one in the middle eyed Stitch up and down cockily, taking another swig of his bottle as he stepped closer to Stitch with confidence, chest puffing out to show he wasn’t afraid of the taller man. “I said that your pretty thing over there would look real good with my cock in his mouth.”

Stitch swung his fist for the mans face, mind too clouded to consider the repercussions, but the other man must have expected it, leaning back just in time for Stitch to collide with air instead as he whooped and chuckled with his friends smugly.

“Ooh, is that all the moves you’ve got? Your boy toy will be begging me for more if that’s the case!” He added, teasing Stitch with a smirk as Stitch only continued getting angrier, going for another swing that missed as well, only this time he didn’t have any time to recover or find his bearings before one of the mans friend swung a fist of his own, colliding into Stitch’s temple and sending the larger man crashing down to one knee.

“Stitch!” Pete cried out, the sound of scurrying feet filling his ears and then suddenly Pete was on him, crowding him with his hands on either side of Stitch’s face, cupping his head cautiously as he tried to assess the damage with wide, panicked eyes.

“I reckon if I closed my eyes and imagined real hard he could pass as a chick, yeah?”

“Close enough to one I say.”

“Come here love, let us show you what real men can do.”

Suddenly, Pete was gone. Jerked away by an arm that wrapped around his waist, pulling him back towards the group as he kicked his legs out, trying to ground himself and find his footing amongst the chaos.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He shouted, managing to successfully throw his head back with enough force for it to collide into someone’s nose. It must have been the one holding him as once they shouted in pain, Pete was dropped to the ground, landing on his back as he tried scrambling to his butt and as far back as he could.

Another one of the three stalked over, grabbing Pete’s ankle that he continued kicking out frantically, and tugged hard, yanking the smaller man closer once again as he leered over him, that once smug and cocky grin turned into a sinister and hungry one. “Fucking queer.” He spat down at Pete, but Pete wasn’t done just yet.

Whilst the man still gripped his ankle, he used the other one to kick him hard in the gut, toppling him over with a grunt as he was now able to stand up properly, reassessing the situation and his surroundings desperately. He could have the upper hand... He’d taken out 2 of them already, right? Just one lef-

Suddenly another pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms down by his side as they squeezed. Keeping him in close, ensuring to avoid the collision of Pete’s head once again as their alcohol stained breathe lingered against his ear. “You’ll fucking pay for that one, faggot.”

The third man, the one that Stitch had been talking to earlier, began stalking towards Pete with a determined glare to his eyes, locked onto the smaller and helpless man. “Someone ought to put people like you in your place.” He shouted, spit particles flying out from his mouth as he got closer.

Pete, as well as the other men apparently, momentarily forgot about Stitch, however. As the man got closer, his attention focused on Pete entirely, Stitch lunged forward, tackling the man from behind and sending them both crashing down to the floor where Stitch was able to land on top, gaining the upper hand. He started landing blows unceremoniously onto the back of the mans head, where he’d tried desperately to protect it as he shouted to his friends for help. The one holding Pete remained where he was, but the other man, the one that Pete had kicked, jumped to his defence, shoving Stitch to the side where he toppled over to the ground, quickly getting back to his feet and ready to fight, hands up in fists as he glared the two men down, ready for whatever they were going to throw at him.

Just then, in the small break of the madness, a siren blared out loudly into the empty street. It was only a warning sound, the red and blue flashing lights coming into view as the cop car got closer, pulling up to the curb just in front of the scene taking place.

With this newest addition, the man holding Pete back released him, tossing him to the side where he stumbled for a moment, before dashing over to Stitch who pulled him in so tightly to his chest it was like he was trying to merge Pete into him – hide him away and protect him from any further harm.

“Are you okay?” Stitch whispered down to him as the police got out of his car, his hand resting onto the back of Pete’s head as he held him firmly, to which Pete only nodded.

“Yeah-Yeah I’m okay.”

“What the hell is going on here?” The policeman demanded, eyes darting around at what he’d just come across. He took in the three thugs first, pursing his lips out at them like he wasn’t surprised to see them here at all, and then he fell on Stitch and Pete cuddling together off to the side, a small blood trail coming down the side of Stitch’s face to indicate exactly what was going on. His stare lingered a moment too long onto the couple, before he finally spoke up, “You boys care to explain what was happening, hmm?”

“These twats attacked us is what’s going on!” Stitch shouted, pointing to the group again just so there wasn’t a slither of doubt in anyone’s mind as he kept Pete close.

The policeman, however, didn’t react. He merely held a hand up to Stitch, the universal sign of silence, as he raised an eyebrow at him in suspicion. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He said deadpanned, turning to look at the group of thugs. “Marshall? Is that true?”

The one in the middle, Marshall apparently, scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Aint no way! He threw the first punch at me! We was just having a laugh, making some jokes, and he attacked us! Fucking faggot is insane!”

“A joke?! You were threatening to-“ Stitch retorted, jumping to their own defence before the policeman cut him off.

“Hey! Settle down, there! Don’t make this situation any worse for yourself, ya hear?” His voice boomed, echoing off the walls as he glared down Stitch.

It was around about here that Stitch started getting suspicious, started thinking that maybe this incident wouldn’t play out like he’d hoped. Despite clearly being able to see the two to one fight Stitch was up against when he arrived, and Pete clearly being held back, the policeman didn’t seem too eager to pass the blame to these thugs.

“You-” the officer started, his eyes lingering over the embrace between Stitch and Pete for a few seconds too long again, thinning his lips together in a way that showed he was clearly biting back a comment he wanted to make. “...Fellas” He settled on, continuing his sentence. “Aint from here are you?”

Stitch really didn’t like all the judgmental looks that were directed at him and Pete right now, and wanting to shield his boyfriend from it as best he could, he subtly started moving Pete behind him, once again standing up straighter and taller for mock confidence as he eyed back at officer with defiance. “Just passing through.” He answered plainly.

The officer nodded to himself. “Well maybe next time you lot should just keep passing, yeah? We don’t need people like you on our streets.”

Stitch was seething internally. Not only did they have to deal with homophobic thugs, but now a homophobic cop? Someone that was meant to help them, to protect them? He spared a look at the three men off to the side, all snickering and smirking proudly amongst themselves, and then back at the cop, eyes glaring daggers at him as he opted to remain silent.

It didn’t work out well for them last time he spoke up, and it nearly got Pete in a whole lot of trouble. Mouthing off to an authority figure would only make matters worse.

“You hear me, boy?” The cop repeated, speaking up louder and more condescending when Stitch didn’t answer.

“What? But they were the ones starting all this! It aint our fault!” Pete cried out from behind him, head poking around Stitch’s shoulder to look at the cop properly as he spoke.

Stitch tried to hold back his cuss at Pete’s outcry, doing his best to signal to his boyfriend to stay quiet by pushing him back behind him where Stitch at least felt he was somewhat protected – despite it probably doing absolutely nothing. “Pete...” Stitch warned quietly, eyes still locked onto the cop, studying him for his next move.

“What did you say me to, boy?” The cop challenged, marching closer to the pair with intent. “Are you questioning me?”

“No, he’s-“ Stitch started, ready to bullshit his way out of this, before Pete spoke over him, clearly not getting the whole ‘shut up’ memo Stitch was trying to send him.

“Yeah! You cant just turn a blind eye because of who we are! Yeah, we’re gay, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to attack us. It’s your job, aint it? To serve and protect? Well fucking do it!”

“Pete!” Stitch cried out in shock, gobsmacked at what his boyfriend had just said, turning to look at him with wide, surprised eyes. When he heard the cop approaching again, he shot back, continuing to keep Pete behind him as he maneuvered them both to keep as much distance as he could. “He didn’t mean that.” He offered, giving the officer his best apologetic look in hopes he’d let the outburst slide, and let them both carry on back to their hotel.

The policeman paused, nostrils flaring as he glared down both Pete and Stitch, contemplating his next move.

There was a few long seconds of silence where Stitch waited for a move, eyes darting all corners to every figure that was lingering nearby, waiting to see who would take the first step as his brain swam with just one thought – how to get Pete out as best he could if he needed to.

Right when he was certain someone was going to do something, a crackle broke through the air. The officer’s radio rung out, a voice coming through the other end to inform him of a domestic incident he needed to get to. The cop took a moment of thought, deciding what was more important, but after one simple look at the three thugs that were still enjoying the show behind him, he must have thought that the situation was going to be able to ‘resolve’ itself without him.

“We don’t want your kind around here, you got that? Now you best get going before Marshall here makes you leave.” He spat, one last insult to injury, before replying to the voice on the radio that he was on his way, getting back into his car with the sirens blaring, and driving off. Once again leaving Stitch and Pete to deal with the other three men on their own – although Stitch wasn’t too sure if this was worse or not. At least these guys didn’t have the benefit of power behind them.

He could feel Pete stiffen behind him, his breath heavy as he waited anxiously for whatever was about to happen, with Stitch eyeing down the three men standing opposite him with menace.

“We’re going to leave now.” Stitch told them forcefully, not making it anything related to a question as he didn’t dare to look away from them, still keeping Pete firmly behind him as he started backing away down the footpath, watching the others carefully for any reaction.

The thugs didn’t move, they simply kept their eyes locked on them, eyes squinting as they studied them right back, before Marshall spoke up. “Yeah, get running, pansies.” He spat, mocking them as he let them go, allowing Stitch to keep guiding Pete further away, before he whistled out, once again grabbing their attention. “But hey, sweet cheeks, you know where to find us when you need someone to fill you up properly, yeah?” He smirked, his hand coming down to grab at his own crotch over his pants, further solidifying exactly what he was referring to as he wink at Pete from over Stitch’s shoulder.

Stitch thinned his lips, forcing himself to remain silent as he felt Pete’s grip on his wrist tug him along, pulling him away down the dark footpath and to the direction of their hotel, every now and then both of them glancing over their shoulders to make sure they weren’t being followed, until finally, thankfully, they made it around the corner to their street.

The both pressed themselves against a brick wall, letting out a deep breathe they both must have been holding from anxiety and nerves, before Pete started his usual fussing. “Show me your head- are you okay? Do you need to go to a hospital?” He reached up, his hand gently resting on Stitch’s cheek as he softly turned his head for a better view of the cut on his temple.

Stitch let out a sigh, bringing his hand to gently hold onto Pete’s wrist, looking at his boyfriend with soft pleading eyes. “I’m not going to a hospital here.” He said simply. “I wanted to kill them.” He admitted, his voice becoming more stern as his eyes matched the anger.

Pete’s eyes when soft too, mouth opening surely to try to talk some reason into Stitch but he cut him off before he got the chance.

“I’m not kidding. What they were saying to you- what they tried to do. If that asshole hadn’t turned up I would’ve killed them.”

Pete remained silent, either not sure what to say or allowing Stitch to let it all out himself before he spoke up. “If that asshole didn’t turn up you would’ve got your ass handed to you.” He stated matter-of-factly. “You’re not a fighter Stitch. Hell, even I’ve beaten you before.”

“I fight for what matters to me. And you matter to me.” Stitch retorted quickly, not even a second passing by. He brought Pete’s hand to his mouth, the one he was still holding, gently planting the softest, most sincere kiss he could manage across the pale knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

Pete shook his head at Stitch, looking at his firmly. “You have nothing to apologise for. But, I would very much like to go home tonight I think.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me.”

The both rushed back to their hotel, eager to get in their car and drive through the night, leaving this shitty town and this shitty night behind them.

Stitch just hoped no one was following them…

WOO another one done!! *celebratory dance* looks like I got my writing mojo backkkkk.

User did send through a bit more in detail of what they were after via message, so I hope this delivers!! I know it doesn’t focus too much on the ‘authority’ part, but this just felt like the best route to take for this idea.

I was very much inspired by IT and the town of Derry in those series.

And yes I kinda left it on a cliffhanger?? I don’t know. Just felt right.

#ask box #bth #bad things happen card #bad things happen #bad things happen bingo #new fic #angst #comfort #sweet

6 notes · View notes