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1engele · 3 years

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 1. petrichor

You move to a small, rural town, in the middle of nowhere, accompanying your mother. Nockfell, she says. A boy named Larry Johnson introduces you to his friend, Sal Fisher, occasionally dubbed "Sally Face." Your feelings cloud your judgement and you get yourself caught up in what seems will change you and Sal Fisher's life, forever.

[warnings: cursing, smoking]

"the kind of blue that makes you ache."

—

Sticky wood against your skin, the hard pressure of the surface beneath your face. The unrhythmic pulsing of the migraine that pressed at the sides of your skull—like phantom palms, relentlessly squeezing your brain.

You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before squinting as you adjusted to the dimness of the room. The noon sun filtered through the windows and cast its golden warmth over every surface. Its comfort found its way over your face, and you breathed in slowly.

You could see the dust particles floating through the air. The sunshine opened out its rays over the beige carpet. You crawled from the dinner table, laid on the soft floor, and allowed yourself to bathe in the welcoming heat.

Your fingers absentmindedly began to play with the looped fibers beneath you as you stared up at the dull ceiling and thought. Today you and your mother had awoken at an unearthly hour of the morning to start your travels to a town called Nockfell.

You'd arrived hours later. At the moment, your mother, who was named Michelle, was out at her new job—a supervisor position at a bank, or something. She'd also worked at a bank in your old town but was promoted to another location and that was the reason for the move.

You had the apartment to yourself. It wasn't much better than your last flat—equally as unsettling as the last.

Your body jerked and you murmured a frustrated curse as the resoundingly impressive knocking of your door frightened you into an upright position. You scrambled onto your feet, the heated carpet warming your soles.

After you'd approached the door, you turned the doorknob and pulled it open as far as the safety chain would allow. You then settled your weight on your right foot and leaned toward the opening. The cool, dead air of the hallway breezed your face.

A boy, with long brown hair and dark eyes. Seemed to be around your age, and taller than you. He was tanned. You assumed it was genetic, as your mother informed you the weather in Nockfell was almost always droll and depressing.

You had to incline your chin upward an inch to meet the brunette's eyes.

A person stood behind him, with eye-catching blue hair that wisped past their ears and brushed their shoulders. Matching eyes, a bit lighter than their cerulean hair. The only thing about this person that seemed a bit jarring was the mask they wore. They were smaller than the boy beside him, and you were able to look them right in the eyes.

You weren't any type to judge off of appearances, so you didn't spend much time staring.

"Hello," you press a shoulder against the door, awkwardly fidgeting. "I'm- do you.."

Before you can painfully struggle for something to say, the tallest boy resolves your conflict. "Hi," he grins easily. "I'm Larry, and this is Sal. He and I had the idea to swing by and welcome you to Addison's.."

He trails off, noticing your disheveled state and tired eyes. You were conscious enough to recognize his hesitation and quickly rubbed the sleep from your eyes. "Oh. Oh. Sorry- I know I look so bad right now.." You quickly passed a hand through your hair and licked your lips. "I was laying on the floor when you knocked."

Why did you say that? You've made yourself out to be a real weirdo, haven't you, Y/N?

"Larry", glances over at his friend "Sal" amusedly, almost like he knew something you didn't. His eyes then revert to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but his blue-haired friend beats him to it.

"You're going to Nockfell, right? I'd say you're 16, like us.."

Yeah, okay. Any suspicions a person could have about Sal's gender upon just seeing him—you didn't, his build was masculine enough and you'd already watched his Adam's apple bob, and Larry had referred to him with male pronouns prior—would probably cease upon hearing him speak.

After realizing you should speak, and not silently trail your eyes down his body, you replied. "Oh, yeah. I'll start the same day as everybody else. Shouldn't that be tomorrow, or-"

"After that," Sal tentatively cut you off, and you watched him swallow. It was sweet, his resignation. Like he was constantly worried about offending. "The day after that."

You felt as though you were missing something.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, embarrassment washing over your features. You quickly tell them your name, regretting not having said it earlier.

Beneath the tank top, you were wearing, your bra strap slipped further down your shoulder. You felt it slide. Oops, you thought, comprehending the fact that it had been misplaced the entire conversation.

Quickly, you pushed it back up and reached for the doorknob. "Okay, um, see you guys then!" And then basically slammed the door in their faces.

You slapped a palm over your mouth. "Oh my god," you breathed, abashed at yourself. "That was horrible."

They'll probably make fun of how awkward you are at school, you thought. "I wouldn't blame them," you told yourself.

At the time, you didn't realize the importance of that meeting. But, then and again, if it hadn't happened that day it would definitely have later.

The next day you and your mother settled further into the apartment. Your mother was supposed to start work the following day so that meant she had time to properly furnish your apartment. The moving vehicle had arrived a day after you'd arrived in Nockfell, which was "highly inconvenient and unconventional", to quote your mother directly.

Uninterested in watching your mother painstakingly put flower arrangements together, you took it upon yourself to explore the property and familiarize yourself with Addison's Apartments. There wasn't really much of anything besides trees and grass and the view of buildings in the distance. Oh, and the treehouse. Curiosity got the best of you and you made your way towards it.

It had rained in the night. You could smell the scent of water on dry earth and feel it against your hands and face. You tasted mist on your tongue and your sneakers squeaked on the wettish grass. You could practically feel the dampened mud staining the white soles.

You almost slipped climbing up the ladder and into the treehouse. You were glad you weren't being watched because the face of terror you'd just made was really embarrassing.

The structure was actually pretty impressive. If you could live in it, you would. A few posters here and there and a lot of storage for nicknacks and food. A family photo and a stool. A toolbox, some other shit- it was almost as if people hung out in this extremely well-kept treehouse a lot.

Fuck. You didn't expect the damn thing to be lived in. You'd expected the thing to be made in the 70s and extremely old and abandoned. You'd practically just broke into someone's property! You'd burglarized this treehouse!

"I have to get out of here," you murmur, frantically. "Before we get evicted."

That actually wouldn't be too bad, you replied to yourself. Pissing Michelle off would be really funny.

Letting out a breath, you move from the window and pivot around to climb back down the ladder and run like hell. Instead, your ears absorb the sound of creaking and boyish laughter. You have no time to react before the blue-haired boy you'd met the following day is climbing into the treehouse and meeting your eyes.

His laughter ceases and you scramble to explain yourself as his brown-haired friend follows him into the treehouse.

"I am so sorry," you rush. "I thought this thing was abandoned. I had no clue it was yours. I'm really, really sorry. Seriously. I, um- I'll leave, and I swear I've-"

Larry jerks like he was trying to hold back laughter and promptly fails. He sounds like he's going to bust a gut and you feel your face growing hot. Through your heavy embarrassment, you're concerned he's going to fall out of the treehouse from where he sat on the edge of the entrance.

His friend sends his elbow in Larry's ribs. Larry groans in pain.

“I think what Larry was trying to say there was that it's perfectly fine," Sal looks away from Larry and his steady blue eyes meet with yours. "Really. Not a big deal. Right, Larry?"

Larry wheezes promptly.

"See?"

You can't help but giggle. You quiet yourself as quickly as it starts, and hoped he hadn't heard. When you look away from Sal, you miss his softening eyes.

Larry grins at you. "Laughing at my suffering, it seems. I see how it is." He grunts in his effort to get himself up and on his feet. He's on one knee when he speaks again, an elbow resting on his knee. "What the hell is in that lanky ass arm, Sal? Steel?"

"Something like that," Sal replies, the sound of a smile on his tongue. You meet his eyes again. "So," he says your name, slowly. You breathe in but it hitches. "Why'd you move to Nockfell?"

"No reason that's interesting," you state. "My mom was relocated for work." You step back toward your back presses against the wooden wall and relax your shoulders. "And why did you?"

Sal blinked from behind his prosthetic. He doesn't answer your question but instead returns it with his own. "How'd you know I moved?"

"You don't sound like you're from here," You answered. "Where are you from?"

"Jersey." He returned, gazing at you curiously.

"You guys are like old people," Larry has finally got to his feet, brushing off the black denim on his knees with his palms. He rises to his full height and momentarily startles you. Despite his statement, he asks you his own question. "You miss your friends back home?"

You smiled despite everything. "Oh. Haha, no. I didn't really have a best friend or anything like that. I sort of floated. Never really met anybody."

He pauses. "Well, you live in our complex now." Larry runs a hand through his hair and looks down at you. "If you want, we can both be your friends."

Your eyes widen, and a wholesome feeling flutters in your chest. "Oh!" You glance over to Sal. "I- sure! If you'll have me."

Larry flashes his well-kept teeth. "Good! We need some more females within the gang, don't we, Sal?"

Sal looks as though he cringed. "Please don't call them females. And, uh- sure, I guess."

After that, it isn't a few minutes until you all sit down. You pull your legs criss-cross applesauce and plant your elbows in your knees, resting your chin on your hands.

"So," Larry says your name. "Ever smoke before?"

Your eyebrows raise.

"Sweet Jesus," Sal mutters. "Larry, you can't ask her that." Despite himself, he reaches for the cigarettes Larry's just pulled from his pocket.

"I only asked a question. You're a bully."

You look on in amusement. You can't help but feel a bit nervous about the prospect of doing something you've seen be demonized so often. "I haven't," but this is a new start, right? "Are you offering?"

"Oh, sure," Larry leans toward where you're sat directly in front of him. "Do you want to? Just asking. You seriously don't have to."

It was amusing how hard he was trying not to be to peer-pressure you. You still felt an anxious feeling, but that was only natural. The want to do something "rebellious" overpowered your inner unease. "Uh, yeah. I'd like to."

And with that, he resigns to his own cigarette and slowly lays back onto the wooden floor, brown eyes stuck on the ceiling. Smoke cascades from his mouth and floats through the air. The treehouse begins to smell like a bonfire, the earthy scent sticking to the wood.

You move closer to Sal and maneuver yourself onto your knees.

"Alright," he starts, to himself. He grasps your hand—which makes your heart jump, and you can't tell whether or not you're nervous or his touch had just heightened your attention for whatever reason—and places the cigarette in your hand. "Put the smoke between your teeth."

You follow his instructions. Sal's suddenly closer to you, flicking the lighter with the pad of his thumb and birthing a flame. "Okay, stay still." Suddenly, his unoccupied hand is brushing your hair aside and ghosting the side of your neck before sliding back and flattening on your nape. Chills erupt all over your body from being touched so personally by the opposite sex.

Your nerves are all over as he gets even closer, inches the flame to the end of the cigarette, and lights it.

He pulls back. "Alright," Sal watches you intently. "Now take it and inhale."

As you do so, you notice him stand and walk to the side in your peripheral.

Inhaling it into your lungs tastes like oxygen deprivation and extremely burnt steak. Your entire body is shaking and shuddering as your body instinctively attempts to repel whatever you've just sent into it. Suddenly, there's a water bottle in your hands, and the cigarette has been taken away. The cap has been unscrewed prior, thankfully, and you drink the water. It tastes like god's tears and rainbows and angel dust and you gasp in relief.

"Sweet Jesus," you choke out his earlier statement unintentionally. "What the hell was that?" You raise your head, and he's got his head bowed, bottom straps of his prosthetic unbuckled and he's smoking your cigarette from beneath it. Smoke filters from behind the shadows of the nose and eyes of his mask and into the air and slowly dissipates around you both. "And how are you doing it so well?"

"The first time around is absolutely horrible," he replies to you attentively. "It's all burnt and stuff. Drink some more water and you can try again if you want."

You do as he says, and shortly after you're trying again. It's nearly as rough as the first time around but you hold it in for long enough to do what it's supposed to and breathe it back out.

"Oh," You murmur. "Huh."

Larry chuckles at you from his place on the floor. Sal sends him a lighthearted glare before returning his attention to you. "See? It gets better." Empathically, he adds: "I don't want you doing that much this time, though. The nic sick sucks."

You didn't ask what nic sick was but it was safe to assume it was the effect of smoking past your tolerance and ultimately resulting in nausea.

You pass the cigarette back and forth—Sal taking a lot more hits than you, but that wasn't saying very much—until it was useless. Sal placed it beneath his shoe and put it out. He and Larry both dispose of the cigarettes and return to you, matching your position on the floor.

"So, how was it?" Larry asks you, amusedly curious.

You shrug and smile. "Wasn't bad after the first few hits. Couldn't have done it without Sal, actually." You then meet the boy in question's eyes, who meets yours back steadily, But after a moment, he looks to the floor and sharply exhales through his nose, reciprocating your amusement.

Larry's face moves in your peripheral, and you look towards him, but his features are already changed to how they were before you'd looked away from him.

Huh.

By the time you'd all left the treehouse, the sun was falling behind the horizon, and the sky above you was becoming a darker blue.

The two boys walked you to your apartment.

"That was a lot of fun," you expressed warmly as you stood at your door. "Thanks for that."

"We'll see you at school tomorrow," Sal responded, shifting his weight.

"You can walk with us!" Larry grinned. "If you want."

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to it, agreeing on the suggestion, and turning to your door to open it and retreat inside. Before you could, you were stopped.

"Wait," Sal blurts. You turn, gazing at him curiously. The mask shifts on his face. "Make sure your hair doesn't smell like smoke. Mine always does. Shake it out before you go in."

You doubted your mother would even be awake, nonetheless notice your presence, but you appreciated his advice and followed it anyway. You passed your hands through your hair before shaking it for a moment. You flattened it as well as you could afterward and laughed at yourself.

"Think that was good?" You asked, flashing your teeth.

Larry raised his eyebrows, thoroughly humored. "I think so. What do you think, Sal?"

Sal's silent for a moment, like he's forgotten he's there. Just staring at you.

"Sal?'

He blinks, shaken from his reverie. He quickly recovers, as it'd never happened. "Oh. Yeah," he states, moving to turn around and leave. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

With that, Sal's down the hall and making haste toward the elevator.

Larry exchanges a glance with you and laughs, bids you goodbye with a wave, and departs from you by following after his blue-haired friend.

You think nothing of Sal's quick departure, grin as you think of the fun day you'd had, and enter your quiet apartment.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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babbawright20 · 3 years

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How you and Johnny Knoxville met

Y/N POV

“Bam I really would rather not just sit there and watch as you get shot by those bullet things.” You explain as he rolls his eyes.

“C’mon Y/N it will be fun! Ry wants to see you and the rest of the Jackass are dying to meet you”

“It would be quite funny watching that unfold” You murmur as Bams eyes light up.

“Fuck yeah! we got to go now or ill be late, don't want Knoxville to beat my ass for showing up late again.” And with that he grabs your arm dragging you to his vehicle outside your house.

20 minutes later -

“Y/N!!!!!! The fuck have you been?” Ryan scolds as he slams his body into yours. Giggling you hold him back just as tight as he continues to scold you for the amount of time its been since you last saw him. Which is realistically only a week.

“Hi Ry I've been busy hiding from you weirdos” You wink stepping away from his embrace. With that comment he throws you over his shoulder with protests flooding from your mouth.

“Put me down or feel the consequences Dunn” you warn as he walks towards many unfamiliar faces.

“Yeah yeah Y/N heard all this before. I'm just being a good pal and taking you to the big boys of Jackass. Also where the fuck has Bam gone”. Ryan curses eagerly looking for his best friend. You lay defeated on his shoulder also looking round for your brother who you didn't even know walked away earlier during your catch up with Ryan.

Rather quickly you spot Bam with a group of men you only slightly recognise from the shots Bam has showed you. Ryan quickly heads over in there direction, Bam already laughing at the sight of you on Ryan's shoulders still.

Your cheeks turn slightly red as the men's focus falls on you all smiling at the sight of you both. you remember the names from the familiar faces: Steve-o, Preston and Dave England stand in front of you, waiting eagerly for you to introduce yourself.

“Okay Dunn you can let me down now” You scold at your friend and chuckles, carefully dropping you on the ground as you turn to face the men still waiting.

“Hi im Y/N” you say sweetly as you look across their faces, taking you in.

“Hello Maam we’ve heard a lot about you” Preston replies pulling you in for a hug as you glare at Bam.

Bam holds his hands up avoiding eye contact with you.

“As much as we would like to get to know you Y/N Knoxville is waiting for us all in the warehouse” Steve-o Explains grabbing your hand as he pulls you in the direction to the building. He beings to explain the stunt they are hoping to pull off and how almost everyone had refused to do it. Looking around you see all the cameras and lights while Dave England has a panic attack even just thinking about the stunt.

You hear a loud laugh burst through the warehouse and without thinking you look for where that noise came from. You see a tall figure with his head thrown backwards as he continues his heavenly tune. He’s dressed in black trousers with a plain white top that shows his lean figure with a black plaid shirt on top, unbuttoned. Everyones attention is solely on him, too mesmerising to look away. As you inch closer to him with Steve-o your heartbeat suddenly rises. Steve-o notices how quite you have gone and notices your change of expression immediatly smirking.

“Oi Johnny!” he shouts as your eyes shot to him and your breathe holds in your chest.

As he looks over you notice a surprised expression fall on his features and he stops mid sentence. Your eyes fall onto his as he lets his gaze fall down your body before pulling them back to yours. Without hesitation he begins to walk in your direction leaving that unfinished conversation behind. With nervous eyes you couldnt help but smile as he gets closer.

“Hi buddy!” Johnny says as he pulls steve-o in for a quick hug. Once he pulls away his attention falls back to you. His eyes drag down your body as he ignores whatever Steve-0o is telling him.

“And what's your name?” he finally says as the wind is knocked out of your body.

“Im Y/N, Bam’s sister” you explain as the heat finds its way to your face again due to the look he was giving you. A smile falls upon his lips at the mention of your name.

“Thats a lovely name” he compilments neither of you noticing the fact Steve-o had left with the biggest grin on his face.

“thank you very much glad its appreciated” You giggle as his smile widens at the sound, his heart rate picking up. You were beautiful and he couldnt handle you being so close.

His name gets called from the opposite side of the warehouse. With a wink he gives you one more look across your body, a smirk pulling at his lips as he reluctantly walks away from you. You already have a sense of sadness as you watch him walk away, missing the smell of his cologne.

From the corner of your eye you spot Ryan, Bam and Steve-o whispering while pointing directily at you. Turning you rattention on the three boys they all straighten out with only Steve-o making eye contact with you. With a small smile you make your way over to them.

Bam was the first one to speak up with a grin painted onto his face.

“Looks like Y/n has a crush on someone” He shouts as you slap his hand away from your arm.

“Shut it Bam before i hurt you” you warn with Steve-o dying from your threat.

“He seemed very interested in you too Y/n” steve-o winks as your cheeks turn red yet again.

With a small smile you turn you head to find Johnny already looking in your direction. He gives you a smile before turning his attention back to Jeff leaving you to stare at his side profile.

“I really don’t want to do this was” Ryan explains calling Johnny an ass for even suggesting it.

With that conclusion a loud bang runs through your ears as you slightly jump holding onto Steve-o’s arm.

“Yeah fuck that I’m not doing that! That’s fucking mental” Ryan huffs grabbing your hand and leading you to the front entrance with him sitting in a vacant seat. You drop in the seat next to him slightly giggling as he continues to refuse to do the stunt presented for him.

Shortly after Johnny comes out with the biggest grin on his face.

“Come on Dunn it’ll only hurt a lot” he explains while his eyes flicker to yours.

“Are you crazy? Knoxville I’m not doing that that’s too much”

“Fine I’ll do it then” Johnny suggests explaining that it’s footage. You couldn’t help but frown as he suggests it, not wanting him to get hurt.

He catches your attention again as he runs his hands through his hair making sure his sunglasses run in front of his eyes. Nothing has ever seemed more attractive than the way he looks right now and your breathing halts as you continue to admire him. His head turns in your direction as he slightly tilts it when he notices your gaze on him.

“Do you wanna come watch this event unfold sweetheart?” He asks eyes still on you as he starts to walk away.

With a shaky sigh, Ryan huffs following Johnny into the warehouse and you slightly giggle know he’s going to join the stunt he refused to do.

You stand with Dave as he continues to shake, with a hand on his arm you make sure he is okay. That’s when you notice the three men standing in front of you and only two of them wearing helmets.

You sigh in relief as you notice It’s Ryan and bam who are wearing the protection but then frown when you notice Johnny isn’t. He looks your way and drops his eye into a wink and puts on his goggles.

“Hi I’m Johnny Knoxville and this is Jackass” with that a bang follows and you see Bam and Ryan drop to the ground. Dave holds your arm pulling you back from them knowing you were about to run to them. Johnny grunts in pain as he walks around the set. However, you notice Bam crying and being the great sister you are, you begin to laugh.

Johnny turns his head to you and you point to Bam while uncontrollably laughing.

“Bam are you crying?” Johnny asks slightly laughing as he leans closer to look.

When the stunt is over and the cameras are off you finish helping your boys calm down from the pain when you feel eyes on you. Turning your head you again met eyes with Johnny. With a finger raised, he beckons you over to him. After the confirmation from Ryan and Bam that they are okay you head over to him.

“I have some gnarly marks from that!” He explains as he lifts his top. The first thing you see is red prints all over his stomach. Then as you continue to exam the marks you can’t help but notice how fit he actually is. You couldn’t move your eyes off him.

“Mmhm like what you see sweetheart?” Johnny asks as your eyes snap back to his with the biggest grin on your face.

“That was so cheesy oh my” you say as you double over in laughter. He quickly shrugs with a huge smile on his face.

“Got you to laugh though didn’t it” he explains pulling his top back down and grimacing in pain.

“Have you got those checked out?” You ask as you take in his expression.

“I’ve had a lot worse than this done to me I’ll be fine. Wanna kiss them better sweetheart?”.

With widened eyes your gaze meets his, his own staring straight at yours.

“Mhm you’d be lucky, come back to mine and we can see.” You whisper leaning forward his eyes falling to your lips. You give him a kiss on the cheek about to leave when he grabs your arm spinning you back round to him.

“You are really something, Y/n” Johnny says his eyes still on yours.

With a bright smile you say

“Right back at you sweetheart” with a teasing wink he lets you go. Both of your hearts racing and your minds running with hope. He watches you walk away with a small smile forming on his lips. Already knowing you could quite possibly be the one.

#jackass #jackassimagines #johnny knoxville #johnnyknoxvilleimagine #fanfiction

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nosleepstillweak · 4 years

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cruller

My favorite type of donut is a cruller. Pity the man that begins his own love story with a monologue about his favorite pastry, but I feel like there’s something to be said here. It’s not like your traditional cake or long john or eclair. A cruller is in an avenue all its own. For one, it just looks cooler. Who doesn’t like a twisty donut? The dough is shaped into this endless spiral that flakes beautifully in the oven. Furthermore, the consequent increase in surface area also leads to the creation of these little pockets that are the perfect space for the outer glaze to nestle into. Top the whole affair off with a flawlessly reduced jelly filling and it’s like eating ambrosia. This opinion definitely isn’t mitigated by the fact that a literal goddess is the one to serve me these treats every morning, yet I still face opposition.

“You’re just a fucking weirdo, Jason.”

These are the words of my donut-apathetic comrade, Malachi. He’s a bit of an old-head, if you were to ask me, but sometimes the bluntness of his responses are in my best interest. As of late, he has been the staunchest--and sole--opponent of my onset infatuation with the owner of our newly discovered cafe destination.

“These twists taste like garbage. Admit it, you just have a thing for Donut Girl.” A key indicator of his disdain is the fact he continues to call her “Donut Girl,” even though her name-tag would lead me to believe that she actually goes by Sadie. Then again, given my previous history with “Pizza Chick” and “Gas Station Lady,” it’s fair to say that I haven’t necessarily made the best name for myself when choosing my romantic interests in the wholesale industry.

“Unsubstantiated opinions on Sadie aside, you can’t tell me that this isn’t a damn good donut.” I mean, he could, but he’d just be a liar. I take another bite in between sentences. “Plus, I don’t think you saw the way she looked at me this time. That was definitely some sort of signal.”

I can’t say that I’m not offended by Malachi’s responding scoff. “Yeah, a signal to round up all the idiots. I can’t believe you’re twenty-three years old and you still crush after women like you’re in a teen drama.” He scowls at me as I finish off the last of the half-dozen with a smile on my face. “Those donuts literally taste like sugar-coated metal.”

“Oh, heaven forbid they contain the slightest hint of high fructose corn syrup.” In traditional old-head fashion, Malachi is the type to complain about foods nowadays being too sugary; he gets a headache from eating a rope of black licorice. “Gather ‘round, folks, Old Man Malachi is mounting the soapbox again to preach about the dangers of processed foods--”

“Oh, fuck you, I’m leaving.” He, rather dramatically, snatches the coat off the back of his chair and storms out of the bakery. I can’t wipe the grin off my face when I remember that we literally work at the same office and will see each other again within the next ten minutes. What I find to be less amusing is the fact that he left me the entire bill, including his cinnamon-free cinnamon twists and extra-large black coffee. In lieu of my irritation, I take the situation as just a form of preparation: true love isn’t cheap.

“Here’s your bill.” A slip of paper slides across the table and then I’m blindsided by the sight of an immaculate Sadie smile. Now that’s priceless. I can’t describe it in words, but it’s just so… damn. By the time I’ve regained my senses, she’s gone off to help the next customer. I glance over the receipt, fishing through my wallet to produce the proper total and a hefty tip. My eyes widen when I catch something hastily scrawled at the bottom of the slip: a phone number. Next to a poorly-drawn smiley face, but that’s beside the point; the Sadie of Sadie’s Bakery just gave me her phone number. As I get up to leave, I even catch a glimpse of her smiling softly in my direction. I more than happily return the gesture. Malachi will come around eventually, but this train is definitely already in motion.

***

I have to hand it to Malachi because the first few weeks of my relationship with Sadie did actually feel like a teen drama. Our initial correspondence was nothing to write home about. I’d pick up a cruller every morning at the bakery and we’d chat for as long as it took for Malachi to spitefully gulp down his coffee and claim that we were running late for work. In between breaks at the office, I curated a myriad of internet bakery memes. Then, at night, I would bombard our text conversations with dancing donuts and cake icing videos and pretend to not absolutely lose my mind whenever she responded with a laughing face emoji. This continued for a while until I had to stage a self-intervention from giving myself diabetes. Sadie was surprisingly understanding and even offered to make me a sugar-free batch; had Malachi not physically taken my phone and responded with “no and goodbye,” I would have accepted.

In spite of his continued opposition, the train kept on moving. Sadie was actually the one who asked me out; I know, the misogynists are quaking in their boots. After she made the first move at the bakery, I wasn’t super surprised that she proposed the idea of dating one morning when I stopped by to pick up an office order. That being said, her delivery did not keep me from turning completely red and whooping at the top of my lungs in the otherwise moderately quiet cafe. I honestly still don’t know why Sadie got so embarrassed; she literally owns the place. All that being said, Sadie and I were officially a couple. Now, I just have to let Malachi in on it so he can be a supportive best friend and help guide me through my new--

“Jason, I love you, man, but this seems like a terrible idea.” Okay, ouch. This hadn’t been the first time he’d ever said these exact words to me, but for some reason, they hurt more this time around. “This is so sudden! I seriously worry that you’re getting ahead of yourself. What do you even know about this Sadie girl anyways?”

“Uh, well, for one, she runs the best bakery in town.”

“Debatable. Dinah’s Breakfast Cafe has killer pastries.”

“Unlike Dinah, Sadie’s smart and funny.”

“And you learned this from your 2 A.M. meme conversations?”

“Okay, either way, look me in the eyes and tell me she’s not beautiful.”

“Do you really want me to call your girlfriend hot?”

I throw a straw wrapper in his face and pout, genuinely upset. “That’s not the point and you know it.”

“Look, dude, I can understand that your initial feelings may be strong, but I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again. Physically or emotionally.” Malachi fixes me with a serious look and I suddenly feel like sinking back into my chair. “Especially after Gas Station Lady, I was hoping you’d make a little bit of a better assessment of things. I mean, like, do you even know how old she is? Friends? Family? Does she have any past relationships? Who’s to say that she isn’t hanging out with one of her ex-boyfriends right now?”

That last comment was a low blow and more than a little melodramatic, but I suddenly feel like I don’t know enough about Sadie to defend her. Now that I think about it, maybe everything is moving too fast.

“Just… be careful, man. Maybe reconsider. Again, the last thing I’d want is for you to get hurt.” Malachi shoots me one last sympathetic smile before walking out of the breakroom. Maybe there’s some truth to Old Man Malachi’s words. I stare at the cruller in my hand for a moment. When I finally move to take a bite, something inside leaves a sour taste in my mouth. The jelly filling doesn’t taste quite the same as before.

***

After that awful conversation, I decide it's best to have a heart-to-heart with Sadie. Our text conversations dry up for a couple of nights and I try to avoid the bakery as much as possible to give myself more time to think. However, as it turns out, the inevitable conversation didn’t end up being as painful as I thought it would be. Sadie actually laughs when I tell her that I don’t know anything about her; she says the same could be said about me. We spend the rest of the evening making donuts together and giving each other a basic autobiographical rundown.

Sadie Marissa Jenkins II is a first-generation British--it was at this point in our month-long relationship that I finally noticed the accent--immigrant who’d moved here in order to pursue her studies in culinary arts at the local university. She lives with her older sister, and her dog named Muffin, and she prefers riding her bike to taking the metro. She spoke of no past relationships and is in fact not currently cheating on me with another man. I was quite happy, and a little smug, when reporting my findings to Malachi.

“If you think she’s the one, then knock yourself out.” He’s speaking very nonchalantly for a man who’s wrestling with a stapler. “She actually gave me a free coffee this morning, so maybe she’s worth keeping around.”

“So free coffee is all it takes to get Old Man Malachi’s blessing?”

“Hardy-har-har.” He flicks a loose staple at my forehead. “This better work out, because I’m not picking your ass up again when you get dumped out of a pizza delivery car in the middle of town.”

“At least she didn’t run out of gas.” I jokingly shoot finger guns in his direction, snorting when he feigns a shot to the chest as he exits the breakroom. There are still a couple of crullers left over in the Sadie’s Bakery box on the counter so I help myself to one--and immediately gag. Okay, they actually do kinda taste like metal. They’re probably just stale from sitting out all afternoon. Yeah, that’s probably it.

***

I decide to lay off the crullers for a while and instead take the time to learn more about Sadie. What I learn instead is that both of us have pretty uninteresting lives, but I think it’s the thought that counts. Plus, her accent is precious and I can barely pay attention when we have midnight baking lessons at the bakery. These lessons are always followed by her getting into my car, me offering to drive her home, and us making out in the backseat instead. This goes on for several nights and I have never once complained about it. That is, until tonight, when she decides to take a chomp out of the side of my neck.

“What the--!” I instinctively push away from her and inspect the injury with my hand. My fingers come away smeared red.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” Her hands hover over me as I frantically press the sleeve of my jacket to my neck to stop the bleeding. “I got carried away. Did I hurt you?” I mean, judging by the fact that I’m literally bleeding, I think it would be fair to assume that she did, in fact, hurt me. Nonetheless, I manage a smile.

“It’s fine, Sades.” Probably. The bleeding has stopped, anyways. “Honestly. I mean, it’s not like you said some other guy’s name, or something weird like that.”

“What? What other guy? When was there ever another guy?” Sadie jolts away from me like I’m made of fire. “What do you know about another guy?”

“Uh, nothing! It was just a joke.” A bad joke. “An American joke.”

“Oh. I see.” She nervously picks at the leather of the car seat, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip.

“Really, the biting thing was fine.” Probably. I lean forward and place a small kiss on her ear. “In fact, dare I say that it was kinda hot.” I don’t know what response I was expecting, but I was not physically prepared for the look that she gave me when I pulled away. Then, we were back at it again. From that point in the night on, it was just so… damn. Maybe I was just hallucinating before; I think the crullers taste just fine.

***

“You look tired.” Malachi inquires with a wink as he takes another sip of his morning coffee. To be quite honest, I probably feel worse than I look; after the whole biting incident and my subsequent flirtatious response, Sadie kinda took things into her own hands. I think it’s fair to say that what happened in that car stays in that car. Probably.

“I was just busy last night.”

“Busy?” Malachi snorts into his cup. “With Sadie?”

“Oh, shut up,” I tiredly flip him the bird, “don’t say it like that. We’re literally adults. It’s not like teenagers kissing behind the bleachers, or something.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot when you got so mature. Just eat your damn cruller.” He shoves the half-dozen towards me and I nibble at one for a bit before taking a bite… which still tastes awful. Did she change the recipe for the filling? I need to talk to her about that. “Then again, maybe you’re right. I don’t remember them wearing scarves in August in teen dramas.”

I literally choke on the bite of cruller in my mouth. Okay, so maybe the biting incident wasn’t fine. You live and you learn.

***

“Uh, hey there, Sades.” I make my way into the sparsely lit kitchen of the bakery. “Whatcha’ up to?” My real question is, why does the kitchen look like a literal crime scene? There’s donut filling smeared all over the counters; there’s even some on the wall.

“Oh! Uh, nothing, just washing my hands. Cleaning up.”

“Did you cook something?” I look around the kitchen a bit. No pots or pans. Not even a baked good. “I don’t see anything.”

“N-No, not really. I was just preparing something for a batch I was going to bake tomorrow.” For a baker, that’s a totally normal thing to do. Probably.

“Alrighty, then. Should we head out now?”

Sadie smiles, but her face still seems tight. “Lovely.”

***

“Something’s off about Sadie, man. I’ve been getting these weird vibes lately.”

“Oh, so now you see it.” Malachi rolls his eyes, taking a bite into a fresh-baked, sugar-free twist. “Did you two have a fight? Does she not like it when you burp halfway through your sentences?”

“What? No, to both.” Well, actually, that’s a hard maybe on the latter. “Nothing specifically happened, per se, but, like, the vibes were off. She was acting really strange last night.”

“What’d she do, exactly?”

“Well, she…” Washed her hands? What exactly am I supposed to say in this situation? “...actually, never mind.”

“Good. Because, if you were about to say some kinky shit, I literally would’ve punched you in the face.” He chortles as I push hard against his arm. “Look, man, relationships are weird. Whatever’s on your mind, just work it out with her. Better now than later. Regret hurts like a bitch, dude.”

I stare down at the cruller in front of me and swallow thickly. “I think you’re right, man. I should just talk things out with her.”

***

Oh, god, I was wrong. I was so wrong. Screw talking things out. Malachi was right. Regret does hurt like a bitch. I should’ve listened to him, the first time. I wish I could go back and listen to him. I should’ve known something was wrong from the random nighttime hand washing. Or from the biting incident. Or from when any human woman found me to be conventionally attractive. Maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s just not human. She probably isn’t, given that she’s pulling this shit. She’s literally crazy, and I fell for it.

You wanna know what was in those crullers? The jelly filling: it wasn’t cherry or strawberry or whatever other random red fruit we thought it was. It’s straight-up human remains. ...Plus a shit ton of sugar and preservatives, but that’s beside the point. That’s why Malachi thought they tasted like metal. There’s iron and calcium in blood and bones; she was just feeding us metal. People. And I ate them! Almost every day! For two months! Oh my god, what’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with me?

Malachi, or Mom, or Gas Station Lady, if you’re reading this, just know that I love you all. Actually, this is an inner monologue; you’ll never see this. Poetic cruller bullshit aside, this is absolutely crazy. Oh god, she’s back. Oh god, she has a meat grinder. Why would she have a meat grinder? This is the worst day of my life. Oh god, this is the last day of my life. I’m about to die. She’s about to grind me into bits and make me into donut filling. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god. I should’ve known better, I should’ve--

Fuck, Malachi, please, don’t eat the crullers. Don’t eat the--

***

“I knew there was something up with you!”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, he even told me that you were acting strange recently--”

“Malachi, please, calm down. What’s the matter?”

“Cut the bullshit, Donut Girl. What did you do to Jason?”

A pause. Then, she smiles. “Welcome to Sadie’s Bakery, the best baked goods in town. Could I interest you in a cruller?”

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years

Note

99. you’re the very kind employee who brings me my favourite tea when you witness my public (and loud) breakup For Sternclay if you're still taking requests

You got it!

Context note: I went with Trans Stern on this one, and this is relevant to what the ex says when breaking up with him (no slurs or anything, just a shitty thing to say).

It’s a quiet evening in the lobby of the Amnesty Lodge.

Or, rather, it was.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

Dr Harris Bonkers bolts from his spot on Jake’s lap, Barclay splashes his tea down his front, and Ned lets out a string of surprised curses.

“Is that Stern yellin’?” Duck cranes his neck towards the hallway.

“It sounded like him, but I’ve never heard him be that loud.” Barclay stands, heads towards the kitchen for a towel. The yelling begins again, although the group only hears every few words.

“Not my…No, No, YOU shut…I don’t set..missions…that’s bullshit!”

“Whatever it is, he probably deserves it.” Aubrey sets her head back down in Dani’s lap.

“Aw, c’mon Aubrey, the guy ain’t that bad. He’s just tryin’ to do his job.”

“My love, his job would see him whisk me away to some shady government facility where I could never see you again.” Indrid looks pointedly at his boyfriend.

“…Fair.”

That’s the last of the conversation Barclay hears as he makes his way down the hall toward the kitchen. He still hears Stern yelling. Just as he reaches his destination the shouting stops, followed by the sound of something hitting a wall.

He starts the kettle, gets out his favorite blend (orange with hints of cardamon).

Poor Stern. Sure, the guy is literally hunting him, but Barclay isn’t sure the hunt originated with him. And when he’s not appearing at the worst possible times, Barclay actually enjoys his company. He’s starting to worry that the nerves that pop up whenever they cross paths are not solely from the fear of being caught, but from a crush as well.

He reaches into the cabinet, pulls out a bag of earl grey tea. Grabs cream from the fridge and another mug from the shelf.

When he gets to Sterns door, he can’t hear much of anything. He knocks.

Nothing

He knocks again.

A sniff and then a composed voice calls, “come in.”

Stern is sitting on the edge of the bed, doing his best to look like he didn’t just have a screaming fight with someone. All that FBI training must help you look stoic when you need to.

“Oh, hello Barclay.”

“Hey. I was making tea and thought I’d bring you a cup.”

“That’s very kind.” He takes the mug.

Barclay’s not sure if he should say anything else.

“I take it you heard some of my phone call.” Stern says blankly.

“Yeah. Hate to tell you, but so did everyone else in the lobby. And possibly the lodge.”

Stern groans.

“I’m sure they found it riveting and comical. The special agent making an ass of himself.”

“We were actually worried about you. That’s part of why I came to check on you.” He sits on the bed next to him.

“Really?” Stern clearly doesn’t believe him.

“Okay, I was worried. And so was Duck. And Dr Harris Bonkers.”

“Glad to know I’m so well-liked” he says bitterly.

“I like you.” Barclay winces at how unhelpful and juvenile that sounds. Stern stays silent for a moment.

“It was nothing to concern yourself with. Only a break-up.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stern stares at his tea.

“At least it was by phone and not an email? Or a telegram.” Barclay offers.

“It’s fine. It was for the best. We haven’t seen each other in months. In fact, this was the first time he’s called me in two weeks.”

Barclay tries not to get too excited by the presence of that pronoun and focuses on making sympathetic sounds.

“I mean, I know it’s difficult being with someone who travels so much, who gets sent here and there without much warning. And if it had only been that maybe, maybe…” He sips his tea. Barclay sees the mug shake.

“But not only am I absent, I am, apparently, not man enough for him.”

Barclays eyebrows shoot to the top of his forehead.

“He could have chosen any other word, any other way, could have said prissy, or weak, perfectionist, or wh-whatever else, but, but” He wipes his palm under his eye, bumping his glasses askew.

“He chose that one because he knows exactly how much and why it hurts.” Stern pats his chest, clearly looking for the hanky Barclay’s seen him carry.

Barclay happens to have one of his own, hands it to the agent.

“Y’know, there are at least six people in that lobby who would kick that guys’ ass for that kind of low blow. Just say the word and I can mail them off to wherever he is.”

“Please do not sic your band of weirdos on my ex.”

“Weirdo is a strong word coming from someone who works for the real life X-Files.”

Stern smiles behind the rim of his mug.

“Touche.”

A few strands of hair fall out of place and without thinking Barclay reaches forward and brushes them back.

Stern starts at the contact, recovers quickly.

“Apologies again for the disruption.”

“Mostly just startled us. Hey, heard far worse things working in a hotel.”

“Oh?” Stern is clearly hoping for a change of topic, and Barclay gives it to him with a soft smile.

“Well, there’s the usual folks getting a little loud during sex. That isn’t too bad, unless their dirty talk sucks in which case you want to die from second-hand embarrassment. There’s arguments, of course, and people playing loud music. One time there was a room where I kept hearing the Golden Girls theme song on repeat every time I was nearby.”

“Perhaps that was to cover up the sounds of sex.” Stern laughs, a skittish thing.

“Oh, god” Barclay hadn’t even thought of that, begins chuckling at the idea.

Stern goes to sip his tea, finds the cup empty. Gives a defeated sigh.

“Want another cup?”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Stern, it’s tea, it’s the easiest thing I make.”

“Could I come with you?”

“To the kitchen? Yeah. Might have to start the dough for tomorrow soon but if you wanted to stay and chat-”

“I’d like that very much.”

Barclay stands and Stern mirrors him,

“Careful, you hang around too much I’ll put an apron on you and put you to work.”

“If it means seeing more of you, that’s not much of threat.”

Barclay looks down at the floor as he blushes, doesn’t see Stern doing the same as he opens the door. It’s only when the light and noise spill in from the hall that he meets Sterns eyes. They look, for the first time in days, bright and eager rather than tired as Stern arcs a hand to the doorway.

“Lead the way.”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #prompt fill #coffee shop au requests

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louislouisrap · 5 years

Text

in which bakugo accidentally explodes at the gym

So I know I said I wasn’t really planning to make a fic out of this but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I kinda want to now? I might? Make this a thing? Or at least write up a little drabble about how each character discovers their power? I have no idea but this was fun and I wanna do it again.This was super loose and rough, very little editing. Was just for fun ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also the entirety of my time spent in the gym until now was in preparation for writing about Bakugo and Kirishima going to the gym, so never give up on your dreams I guess

Also it’s super cool that some people started following me after reading my previous drabble! Thanks for doing so and I hope you continue to enjoy my dumb lil writings! （*´▽｀*）

It had been a week since Uraraka had been to the dermatologist, and they were still no closer to figuring out why her skin was behaving the way it was. The doctor had determined, at the very least, that the pads on her fingers were benign, and had suggested she try a callus cream. If nothing else, surgery to remove the pads was a last resort, but as they weren’t necessarily bothering her, Uraraka had initially dismissed the option.

It wasn’t alarming, but it stuck in the back of Bakugo’s mind as he headed to the gym with Kirishima.

“Hey man.” Bakugo greeted the redhead with a hearty clap on the shoulder as he emerged from his apartment.

“Hey!” A grin spread across Kirishima’s face, his mood infectious as always, as he stepped out into the apartment hallway. His broad hand enveloped the back of Bakugo’s neck and he went in for a combination chest bump and back slap, with a bit of a hug mixed in. After a moment, however, Kirishima broke their embrace and gave Bakugo a funny look.

“Dude, you’re like, really sweaty. Or greasy or something.”

“I know, right?!” The tips of Bakugo’s ears went pink in spite of himself. He wasn’t ever really ashamed of his body, and bodies did weird things from time to time, but he had found it odd that in even in the comfortable autumn air, he was suddenly working up a noticeable sweat. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on but I’ve been sweating like crazy the past few days.”

“I’m telling you, you need more cardio,” Kirishima laughed as they made their way out of the apartment complex and into the quiet morning streets of Shibuya.

“It’s not even that,” Bakugo argued. “It’s like I’m sweating, but it doesn’t even smell or feel like sweat. Like—” he rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie and sniffed the crease of his elbow, then shoved his arm in Kirishima’s face— “it sort of smells like chemicals? Kind of like a sweet chemical smell?”

Kirishima cautiously sniffed, then looked up at Bakugo suspiciously. “That’s weird, man.”

“I know.”

They walked on in silent contemplation for a few minutes. Then Kirishima peered at Bakugo’s face.

“Your skin looks really good, dude.”

Bakugo regarded him quizzically.

“Like it looks really smooth. Like a baby’s butt. Maybe it’s your weird sweat.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kirishima.”

Kirishima laughed, a low giggle that erupted into hearty peals. It wasn’t that funny, but Kirishima somehow managed to find humor in almost everything, and with his childlike, friendly demeanor, he was often mistaken for a high school student, rather than twenty-two. This was especially true when he let his normally spiked hair go natural, falling around his face in a way that brought out the baby fat roundness in his cheeks. Today, however, Kirishima had decided against his usual styling routine, in favor of pulling his hair back in a low ponytail for their gym session. “I’m serious! Well, kinda anyway. Here—” he grabbed Bakugo’s forearm and rubbed his cheek against it— “we’ll see tomorrow how my face looks.”

Bakugo tore his arm out of Kirishima’s grip, then smacked him on the back of the head. “You’re a fuckin’ weirdo, you know that?” he barked out, suppressing a laugh. “Besides, that’s not even how that works.”

Kirishima shrugged. “Worth a try.”

“This is why you failed science in high school,” Bakugo snorted.

Kirishima was still arguing that he had been unfairly graded in science class (“Every science class?” Bakugo had asked) when the two of them reached the small gym. It was on the ground floor of a bigger building, not necessarily large, but tall, like most buildings in the area were. The gym itself was cozy, not really exclusive, but its members were more like a community, a family rather than a collection of random gym-goers. Bakugo liked it that way, and had convinced Kirishima to switch from the commercial gym he’d been a part of for the past year.

It was early in the morning, and while there were a few early risers like themselves that frequented the gym, today they were the first ones in the building. Being as tight-knit as it was, Bakugo and Kirishima had keys to open the gym whenever they pleased. They let themselves in and made their way to the locker room to change. Bakugo tore off his black hoodie and shoved it in his locker, revealing a very plain grey t-shirt that matched his grey and black gym shorts and black and white sneakers.

Kirishima, in comparison, had a slightly louder fashion sense. Unzipping his bright red sweatshirt revealed an equally bright red tank top that did a wonderful job of showing off his chest and broad shoulders. His gym shorts were, similar to Bakugo’s, an average dusty grey, while his maroon and white sneakers finished the ensemble.

Bakugo stuck a pair of earbuds in his ears, slipped his phone into the pocket of his shorts, and followed Kirishima to one of the squat racks in a far corner of the gym. Today was deadlift day. Nothing too hard, just some lighter reps for more volume and to help with his grip strength. Before Kirishima set himself up with the barbell to start warming up for his squats, Bakugo grabbed a second barbell from behind the rack, set it on the metal spotters, and loaded two large plates on either side.

With a quiet grunt, Bakugo lifted the barbell off the spotters and shuffled over to set it down next to the squat rack where he and Kirishima could lift side-by-side. He started off with a few light warm ups: positioned the bar midway over his feet, pulled back against its weight, straightened his back, and pushed his soles into the ground as the heavy barbell lifted up off the floor. He felt the pull in his hamstrings, the fullness of his lungs holding in a giant breath of air and the slight dizziness of holding that air in until it all came out in a whoosh after a couple reps.

Bakugo counted out ten quick reps, then took a minute’s rest to get some water at the drinking fountain. He returned, then added another 45-pound plate to each side of the barbell to start the actual work.

Even with his earbuds in and his music playing, Bakugo could still hear Kirishima next to him, whooping and grunting every so often. The two of them were usually courteous enough to be as quiet as possible whenever there were others in the gym, but since it was empty, they could let loose a bit this morning.

Bakugo bent down and adjusted his hands on the bar, the grippy crosshatched metal digging into his skin. He sucked a breath deep into his belly, bent down, back straight, and pulled. The barbell was heavy, but lifted with little resistance. Bakugo held his form for a second, two, three. He felt an itch in his palms, felt sweat trickling down his face, his forearms, into the creases between his fingers.

Suddenly, he felt the bar in his hands slip, his skin too slick to keep a tight grip.

“Fuck,” Bakugo muttered as his forearms strained to keep the bar up. “Fuck!” he shouted again as the bar slipped farther, and he felt the knurling grate against his palms.

And then, out of nowhere: a multitude of whip-like crackles, then an intense heat bloomed and spread through his arms. A bright flash of fiery orange-red, dark smoke enveloping his hands. An explosion, loud enough to shudder the squat rack that Kirishima was occupying, made louder by the accompanying thud of the barbell as Bakugo dropped all 225 pounds in an instant. The force of the explosion was enough to knock him back on his ass, and he rolled back a bit onto his shoulder to soften the blow. His palms buzzed with heat and energy, and even though the explosion seemed to have come from his very own hands, he felt no pain. Just an all-encompassing warmth that traveled up his forearms and left his heart racing.

Bakugo’s chest heaved as he stared at the barbell on the floor. Thin trails of smoke whisped and curled from his hands. Kirishima rushed to his side, eyes wide and terrified. “Holy fucking shit, Bakugo, are you okay? What the fuck happened?” He knelt down and placed a firm hand on Bakugo’s sweaty, trembling back.

“I have no fucking idea,” Bakugo breathed, his voice trembling as badly as his body. He swiped at his brow with his forearm and noticed that the sweat that had been dripping down his face a moment earlier had almost completely dissipated.

Kirishima sat down next to Bakugo, drew up his knees and rested his elbows atop them. “You hurt?” he asked, brows furrowed in concern. He regarded Bakugo, who glared intensely at his open palms.

“I…I don’t think so, but—Kirishima, my hands literally just exploded.”

A beat.

“Your hands—”

“Exploded, Kirishima. It sounds insane, I know, but I swear to god that’s what happened just now. I felt it.” Bakugo’s voice regained some of its strength. “When the bar slipped out of my hands, it like, ignited or something.”

“What did?” Kirishima asked cautiously.

“I think,” Bakugo said slowly, “it’s this stuff I’ve been sweating.”

Kirishima was silent, then carefully reached out to touch Bakugo’s hand. Bakugo recoiled immediately.

“Are you crazy, Shitty Hair?”

“Just relax, would you?” Kirishima rolled his eyes and grabbed Bakugo’s wrist, pulled it close to him, and brushed his fingertips across Bakugo’s open palm. Both boys stared at Bakugo’s hand, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, Kirishima seemed to noticeably deflate. “Well that was disappointing.”

“So you wanted me to incinerate your hand?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I dunno, I just…wanted to see if something would happen. But your hands didn’t feel sweaty at all, you know.”

Bakugo opened and closed his hands a couple times, brushing his fingers along the edge of his palm. Kirishima was right; all of the perspiration from earlier was practically gone.

“Something fucking weird is going on,” he muttered. He scrambled up off the floor, then held a hand out to Kirishima to hoist him up.

“Yeah,” Kirishima agreed as he let Bakugo pull him to his feet. “Between you and Uraraka, there’s something in the water these days, man.”

Uraraka. Bakugo pulled his phone from his pocket and saw, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that she had called recently. For reasons that Bakugo would later attribute to the mysterious workings of the universe at large, he knew he needed to call her back right then. He didn’t know why, but he just knew.

With a heavy thumb he tapped on the missed call notification and brought the phone to his ear. She picked up after one ring.

“Uraraka? Hey, I—”

The sinking feeling in his stomach bottomed out as she interrupted him, her voice shaking as badly as his had moments ago. “Bakugo, I need you to come over, right now.”

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Just get here as soon as you can. Please.”

Bakugo ended the call immediately and grabbed Kirishima hard by the arm. “We have to go,” he explained, forcing down the panicked edge in his voice. “Now.”

#kacchako #kiribaku i guess?#kiribaku #the broiest kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugo katsuki #uraraka ochako #bnha #mha #my fic stuff #au #i have heartburn #gn everyone #bakuraka

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imaweirdoforriverdale · 5 years

Text

Riverdale: S3: E9 | What in the F***ery is Going On?

Hey y’all! Your second favorite weirdo coming to you live from my bedroom while listening to depressing ass music and typing my recap/reaction to this week’s episode of our “favorite” show. Tbh, all I see about Riverdale is how terrible it has gotten and that people just can’t stop watching it because of the actors. Everyone just wants Riverdale to go back to how it was like the first season. But anywho, let’s get this party started! And I watched the show on Friday, I just haven’t “had the time” to post on here! I love you guys and follow my instagram @imawierdoforriverdale for some of my quirkiness.

!!!!!!!!SPOILERS LIE AFTER THIS!!!!!!!!

1. Jughead stays with Betty? When the fuck did this happen? That’s just odd to me. I still don’t like bughead. That ship is cringey af. I just wish people would realize that just because two people date in real life does not mean that they have o be together on the show. Riverdale writers, let’s talk. Let’s schedule a meeting or something. I got time. (Love Sprousehart though.)

2. Archie needs to go home. And he isn’t dead. Wanna know how I know? Because he’s core4, his hair is still red, and he’s gonna be in the musical episode. Therefore, they’re probably gonna just do what they did with Jughead and Archie is probably gonna be back in Riverdale for the next episode.

3. Jughead was kind of an ass this episode, but I understand all decisions he made regarding kicking Fangs, Cheryl, and Toni out of the serpents. I liked that he gave Fangs a second chance. I don’t like that Toni’s character development was solely following behind Cheryl. Fangs should’ve kept his mouth shut like Jughead told him to when regarding keeping the secret.

4. Speaking of Cheryl and Toni, I have lost all respect for them. I really like Cheryl and her character development. This episode made me say wow and shake my head at her because she was doing so well.

5. I don’t like Veggie or Varchie. Why can’t they all just be single on the show? This is also what I mean by just because two people date in real life does not mean they have to date on the show and I’m thoroughly annoyed.

6. I really hope someone gives Hiram what he’s asking for. He’s so annoying and every time I see him, I roll my eyes.

7. ALICE KEEPS FUCKING EVERYTHING UP! Every time Betty solves the problem, Alice turns around and fucks it up. I’m honestly tired of Alice and this farm situation. I mean seriously, how is she gonna tell Betty to figure out shelter for the kids and then go back and make them go to the farm? I’m over it.

Tbh, this episode was hyped up and I’m annoyed with the comeback already. Hopefully the next episode is better. Thank you guys for tuning in and Happy Belated Birthday to Ashleigh Murray and Happy Birthday to Skeet Ulrich! Don’t forget to follow my instagram @imawierdoforriverdale for some headassery. i love you guys and have a good night!

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misssophiachase · 6 years

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Merman Trouble

(1) Caroline realized too late that the merman in her pool was more stubborn than she realized.

Thanks to the talented Julie aka @supremeuppityone for a few different (and crazily fun) drabble prompts, here’s the first (if I get inspiration that Midnight Train to Georgia one might get written too!) This is my first merman type drabble and I made up my own rules, so be kind! Also it’s soulmate week for #klarolinecountdown so get onto it everyone!

Once Caroline finally realised the loud banging on her door wasn’t part of her dream she woke up with a start.

“I know you’re in there, Caroline,” she growled, wishing she had a nice, normal neighbour and not the screaming eighty year-old banshee that liked to complain about the most miniscule of things. She wondered what her problem would be this morning, she just just hoped it wasn’t the way she packed her garbage can again.

“Mrs Mangle,” she groaned by way of a greeting before attempting a brief smile. Her neighbour looked at her appearance critically. Of course, she wan’t looking her best in a singlet and short combination with her hair sticking up in all different directions. She had to get to the front door before the old lady broke it down.

“Caroline,” she muttered, finally lifted her gaze to eye level. “I have to say I’m not really surprised about your appearance after your activities last night.”

“My activities?”

Caroline thought back to the sole glass of red wine she drank while devouring the latest Netflix romantic comedy before retiring to bed at the wholesome hour of 9pm. Katherine had texted begging her to meet her at the newest club in the city but work had kicked her ass and a night at home was just what she needed to recover.

“Your all night pool party, don’t play dumb with me,” she hissed, shaking her wrinkled hand in her direction for extra effect. “It was extremely loud and I couldn’t sleep a wink.”

“Pool party?” Caroline asked again, completely dumbfounded.

Yes, she had a pool, which was strange given she’d been afraid of the water since she was an infant and never swam. But even if she did, given it was mid winter, the last thing she’d feel like doing was taking a dip.

“I’ve been very patient with you,” she added and Caroline would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t thinking about this mysterious pool party. The old woman was no doubt losing it, but she figured poking the bear wasn’t what she needed. “The least you could do is respect the people who have to live near you.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Mangle,” she uttered, trying to sound the slightest bit genuine as she said it. “I have this crazy desire to jump into freezing water in the middle of winter, what can I say?” She didn’t even crack a smile. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

She was gone before too long and Caroline leaned her head against the front door thinking Mrs Mangle truly had lost her marbles. If there was a pool party happening at her house she would have heard. Right? She was a deep sleeper, Bonnie liked to joke that she could sleep through a hurricane.

She made her way towards the back door thinking she must be losing her marbles to be checking up on such a preposterous story. What she found was completely unexpected. Water covered the entire deck and she could make out a splashing noise coming from the pool.

She searched madly for some kind of weapon, her mace was unfortunately in her purse and the nearest thing she could get her hands on was a broom. She made her way slowly towards the noise, wondering just what she was going to do with a broom.

“Took your time,” a perfect English accent murmured from the shallow end of the pool. She turned around, noticing a rather wet but also delectable guy sitting on the steps regarding her lazily. His crimson lips curved slightly activating a mystery dimple in the process. At least her pool party intruder was attractive. “You know, you didn’t have to dress up for me.”

“How did you get down there so fast?” She asked, self consciously running her hand through her knotted waves.

“Let’s say I’ve got this swimming thing down, love,” his bare chest was just screaming for attention from this vantage point.

“Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing in my swimming pool?” She demanded, remembering he was an intruder and raising her broom, albeit shakily.

“Gotta say the whole broom thing isn’t having the desired effect,” he chuckled, easing himself further into the pool, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Says the weirdo who is swimming laps in my pool in the middle of winter?”

“I resent that assessment.”

“What? That’s it’s winter or that you’re swimming laps?”

“The weirdo part.”

“Funny, I thought that was the most correct assumption,” she drawled. “Would you just get out of my pool!”

“But I like it here,” he grinned, moving closer and resting his sexy stubbled chin on the edge.

“My crotchety neighbour thinks I was having an all night pool party,” she hissed, hoping she wasn’t eavesdropping. At least the trees provided some visual cover.

“Always a stickler for the rules aren’t you, sweetheart?” He laughed. “It’s funny how everything comes together when you finally meet your soulmate.”

“Excuse me?” She scoffed. Could this day get any weirder? “I think the cold water has gone to your head, or maybe it’s hypothermia?” For some reason, instead of feeling afraid she was actually concerned about this ass. She wasn’t quite sure what had come over her. “Maybe you should get out of the water.”

“Or what? You’ll attack me with that broom?”

“If you’re lucky,” she shot back.

“And that feisty wit,” he shared. “I knew you’d be beautiful and intelligent but all of these quirks just make me love you even more, Caroline.”

“Okay, buddy,” she warned, finally relinquishing the broom. “It’s time to get you out of this pool and to a hospital and I’m not talking about a regular one. And how do you even know my name?”

“I love how protective you are,” he smiled teasingly while evading the question and Caroline was trying to ignore the slight wobble in her legs. “But if you insist.”

Before she knew what was happening he’d jumped out of the pool, Caroline not completely upset if he happened to be naked. What she got she wasn’t prepared for as a long silvery tail emerged from the water behind him. “What the hell is that?”

“No need to be so hysterical, Caroline, I can explain.” As he looked up at her from the poolside, Caroline was playing through all plausible options in her mind.

“I know, it’s a costume, right?” Not only did this guy have a love for mid winter swimming but also a fetish for playing dress-up. “It’s a little late for Halloween but each to their own. You’re a mermaid, right?”

“Seriously,” he snorted. “Do I have red hair and answer to the name Ariel? The technical term is merman. And not that you cared to ask but my name is Klaus.”

Suddenly she felt dizzy, and not just from the whole merman concept. She knew that name almost as well as her own given it was etched on her left wrist. When she was old enough to understand what it said, Caroline had asked her mother. She’d fed her some silly excuse which for some reason she bought deciding to blame that on her immaturity at the time.

“You know me, don’t you?” He whispers. “Like I know you.” He held up his right wrist, her name written in neat cursive on it.

“What is happening?” She breathed, sitting beside him unable to support her own weight anymore.

“Maybe we should start again,” he smiled, obviously sensing just how overwhelmed she was. “Hi, I’m Klaus. I like swimming in girl’s pools and long walks on the beach at sunset.”

“How do you manage that whole walking thing?”

“I’m a merman, Caroline,” he explained. “But I’m half human, just like you....”

“Hang on,” she put up her hand to stop him from continuing. “Back it up, I’m what now?”

“A mermaid.”

“That’s impossible, I don’t even like the water,” she scoffed. Thinking this guy was on some kind of drugs.

“Because your mother made you think you were,” he insisted. “She wanted you to be human and only human so as to avoid any scandal.”

“But I shower...”

“As much as I love visualising that particular scenario,” he quipped, earning an annoyed eye roll for his trouble. “You need to trigger your mermaid side in the sea first.”

“This is crazy,” she growled. “I’m calling the police to have you committed.” She stood up, attempting to walk back inside when she felt his hand gaze hers. “What the hell?”

He was standing now in full human form, completely butt naked. She wasn’t quite sure where to look first. To say he was a moving feast was an understatement. “How much do you know about your father, Caroline?”

She shook her head knowing her mother had always been coy about his identity whenever she asked questions. “Nothing.”

“Well, how about I tell you a story then,” he implored, his blue eyes penetrating hers.

“How about we get you some clothes first, I don’t need any more distractions,” she murmured, noting his excited smirk. “And before you get any Splash fantasies that we’re going to fall in 80s love together like Darryl Hannah and Tom Hanks you’ve got another thing coming, mister.”

“Splash?”

“It’s a movie.”

“Maybe you can show me sometime,” he grinned, following her dutifully inside knowing that resistance was futile, they were soulmates after all.

#merman trouble #klaroline drabbles #misssophiachase #thanks julie #supremeuppityone #this was so much fun #klarolinecountdown #soulmates

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miss-aligned · 7 years

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Desperate Measures Ch.2

Start from the beginning?

(On AO3, if you prefer!)

“I don’t get it. Why the hell would we need weapons on Eden Prime?” There was real worry written in the corporal’s expression as he stared at the open locker that still housed his weapons.

“I’m not sure. I don’t have any more information than you do,” Kaidan’s brow furrowed as he quickly checked his pistol and stowed it in it’s holster.

“You talked to Shepard, though, didn’t you?” There was a desperate edge to Jenkins’ voice that the lieutenant hadn’t ever heard before.

“I did, but that was before all hell broke loose, apparently.” Kaidan pulled his gloves on and took a deep breath. He didn’t like delving into the unknown. His brief interlude with Shepard and Joker in the cockpit had nothing to do with what was going on, as far as he knew. “All I know is that there’s an unknown ship and something called a beacon on Eden Prime, and we’re probably supposed to do something about them both.”

“Who would attack Eden Prime? There’s nothing there.” Jenkins, while fully outfitted in his armor, was still staring into his locker, motionless.

The lieutenant reached across and in front of him without a word, taking hold of the assault rifle in his locker that he’d been staring at for a little too long now. He held it out for Jenkins to take. “Just take it with you. There’s no guarantee that you’ll have to use it. No harm in being overly prepared, right?”

Jenkins slowly nodded and reluctantly took the weapon from his friend’s grasp. He slowly slid it into place on his back and mirrored Kaidan’s movements in retrieving their helmets. They made their way to a rather restless-looking Commander Shepard’s side and waited to be deployed.

A sudden dip of his head awoke the exhausted soldier from his brief dozing. Kaidan blinked himself back to reality and was hit with another wave of guilt. His amber gaze drifted over to the table nearby and landed on the commander’s prone silhouette, still unconscious. He swept a hand through his hair and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It had been a terrible day.

Eden Prime had been a complete disaster.

Kaidan stared at the floor as he remembered the moment they’d touched down. The ground trembling beneath their feet and the gunfire ringing out in the distance. The so-called paradise had become a warzone, all right under the noses of the Alliance, it seemed.

Jenkins had been upset. Kaidan had seen the color drain from his face even through his helmet as they surveyed what was left of his childhood home. He should have taken point in front of the corporal, but he didn’t. He’d followed his orders and now Jenkins was dead. There was no guarantee that Kaidan would have lived through the encounter with the geth and the monsters they’d created, but he could have… should have done something to help his friend. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, knowing that a headache was coming on.

A quiet swish signaled the opening of the door to the med bay. Kaidan didn’t even bother to look up, knowing that Dr. Chakwas had been coming and going at a heightened pace due to her research on the prothean beacon and what effects it might have on the human mind. Asking her about Shepard’s condition again was probably only going to garner another stern talk about how he should get some proper rest. The pair had essentially agreed to disagree on that topic earlier in the… day? Evening? He had no idea how long it had been.

A phantom mug appeared in the periphery of his vision. Glancing at it and the hand that held it, he slowly came to realize that it was the new arrival Ashley Williams that had joined him in the med bay this time, not Dr. Chakwas. He accepted the offered beverage, breathing in the steamy, familiar scent of acrid Alliance bulk coffee, and he was so grateful for it. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Williams quietly replied. Her dark eyes shifted to the resting figure for a moment before she asked. “Any changes?”

“Not yet,” Kaidan began, his voice hoarse from disuse. He sipped at the coffee briefly before continuing. “Somewhere between a coma and sleep, apparently. She doesn’t respond to external stimuli, but Dr. Chakwas says she’s dreaming. It’s crazy. I just hope she comes out of it soon.”

“She seems like a fighter. I’m sure she will,” Ashley commented as she crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. “She’d better. I need to shake her hand and thank her for pulling my ass out of the fire.”

Kaidan chuckled, though the amusement quickly melted from his expression. “Hey,” he quietly began. “I’m sorry about the rest of the 212. I wish we could have gotten there sooner.”

The gunnery chief stiffened for a moment, her eyes shifting to the floor. “Me, too,” she responded at last. “But I wasn’t expecting anyone to show up, really. I figured I was going to die out there. I appreciate you not letting that happen. I’ll have to make it up to you sometime.”

“Soldiers have to stick together, right?” Kaidan ruefully responded, feeling his gut twist at the fate of both the commander and the corporal. Had he been better prepared or more alert, he might have been able to stop some of this. Maybe.

“Sorry about Jenkins,” Ashley quietly added as her fingertips drummed against the mug from which she’d been sipping. “We lost a lot of good people down there.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan answered, not quite sure how to respond. She was right, and he appreciated the condolences, but it all felt a bit empty to him at that moment. He realized that his words of comfort might have sounded that way to her, too. Funny, that. He shook his head to himself.

“Well,” the gunnery chief began as she stretched her arms out and over her head, careful not to spill a drop of her coffee. “Just came in to see how she was doing and making sure that you’re not banging your head against a wall in here.”

“Not yet,” Kaidan chuckled.

“This wasn’t your fault,” she rather bluntly commented with a gesture of her free hand to the table where Shepard still rested.

“Yeah, it sorta was.” By ‘sorta,’ he meant ‘definitely.’ He’d gotten to close to that stupid beacon. He could hear it humming, feel the energy buzzing just under its sleek surface. It reminded him of biotics. If he hadn’t been so curious to know what made it tick… if he’d been more cautious about approaching unknown alien technology… if he’d just been less of a fool…

“You couldn’t have known. She couldn’t have known. It was just an accident.” Ashley took a drink from her mug, rather skillfully disguising the grimace that he was sure was threatening to emerge at the taste. “Trust me. I was there.”

The smirk that swept across her lips at that confident statement made Kaidan smile. He took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the strangely still commander for a moment. Ashley might have been right, but he still felt solely responsible for her condition. If he wouldn’t have gotten too close to that prothean technology, she wouldn’t have had to jump in to save him and pull him away. Shepard wouldn’t have had to take the blow herself.

“Alright, LT,” the gunnery chief said as she turned towards the door. “Keep watching her sleep like a creeper weirdo, but don’t beat yourself up over it too badly, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. He wasn’t a ‘creeper weirdo’ at all. “I’m a medic, you know. I feel obligated to monitor her progress.”

Kaidan thought he sensed some sort of stifled chuckle, but he couldn’t be sure since she wasn’t facing him any longer. She didn’t turn to dispute the statement, so he might have been mistaken. She merely nodded her head and offered a quick wave of her hand as she strolled out the door.

#Mass Effect #me1 #Desperate Measures #soon to be shenko!#Commander Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #Karin Chakwas #Ashley Williams #writing #color me nervous

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yoshimickster · 7 years

Text

RWBY Volume 4 Episode 12:No Safe Haven-SEASON FINALE RECAP SPOILERS HERE WE GO-

THE FINALE STARTS OUT SWINGIN’-with Team Ranjunior fighting-NUCKALEAVE GRIMM-as I’ve been told he’s a nuckaleave. Reminds me of Nuzlocke, I like it!

Dude starts out swingin’, knocking back EACH member of the team, but because they are SEMI-competent they make sure to not hit ol’ Qrow.

We then see him bein’ all spooky and what not, bla bla bla death scream-GET TO IT!

We then see it perform-GRIMM GRIMM NO PISTOL-on ol’ Jonny boy!

MAN-that superpower of Ren’s that he hasn’t used in front of any other teammates in his teenage years for some reason is REALLY convenient for getting that sick old man out of the way.

Jaune gets back into the fray RIGHT BEFORE Qrow gives him a BAD-ASS nod, because even sick he still kicks ass.

Man this is just looking like the best team boss fight EVER!

After getting horse-kicked, Jaune puts his sword away because he’s wim-OH SHIT-upgrade time mother fuckers! SHIELD SWORD!

Nuckaluck then performs-THE ALL AREA SPIN MOVE! Fuck that attack can be hard to avoid, you can’t decide whether to jump or stay in place-UGH-so tricky.

OH SNAP-spikes grew! You’ve damaged the boss enough that its’ gone into its final form-IT GON’ GET CRAZY NOW!

Jaune and Ruby take his scream like punks, while Renora takes it-LIKE BOSSES!

Ren then tries to take it on with his guns which SUPRISINGLY-don’t have much effect on the beast before it pins him to a wall! I say surprisingly because those things could pack more power, Jaune isn’t the only one allowed an upgrade you know!

Nora then jumps into the fray to save Ren and....oh dang...oh dang-muffins is she-OH THANK SATAN-she’s pinned to the wall above Ren.

Number of former Beacon student’s panties Ren has seen:2.

OH SNAP-Nora got crackle! LET ME REPEAT-the TANK Nora got crackle, THAT is how tough this boss is! Man they BETTER get some good loot after this.

Ren then charges at Nuckaleavemealone FULL ON-in a way that shippers will DEFINITELY atribute solely because-THAT’S THE POWER OF LOVE!

Thankfully though, NORA trades places with Ren as the stable one and stops him from taking on a GIANT beast head on.

LOVE-SLAP, which unlike “you know who’s” was actually needed because fuck fuck that guy.

After briefly hallucinating Nora as a child, Ren pulls out-THE SYMBOLIC KNIFE OF SYMBOLISM-and they’re back in the game folks-FIGHT THAT STRETCHY SCREAMING DEVIL HORSE!

Team RNJR than decides to go-FULL ON Gulliver’s travels and then pins that fucker DOWN!

What happens next...is fucking glorious.

Ren:For my mother*SLASH*, for my father*SLASH*, for all those that you’ve slain*SLASH*, for myself. *DECAPITATE*

Holy shit, the award for most bad-ass line in Rwby goes to Lie Ren!

And after beating that boss they got the best loot of all-MEDICAL TRANSPORT TO MISTRAL! Literally the only convenient part of this horrible day...getting de ja vu up in this bitch.

And OF COURSE-Ren and Nora hold hands while staring at each other and that is all that is NEEDED and anyone who complains is a moron.

After the poisoned alcoholic is secure, a traditional RWBY song plays in the background while Ruby prepares a snail-mail letter to her sister, DURING WHICH-we see what everyone else is up to!

Weiss gets a ride from Atlas cargo ship 003, THE FIGHTIN’ TRES! Thanks guy who will never be named!

Yang follows Ruby by taking a boat first...which allows her motorcycle...on the deck, what the crap? PUT THAT IN STORAGE YA WEIRDO!

AND THEN-we see everyone’s favorite captain and apparently non-gender binary first mate Matte Skye(Not complaining, I’d just prefer that knowledge be said or implied in show rather than a Tumblr post, minor gripe at best).

AND after going down the same path, she sees a literal fork in the road between “BANDITS” and Mistral which will cause the aforementioned flood of alternate universe fan-fictions I prophesize-AS WELL-as people wondering for MONTHS what’s she’s gonna do. Welcome to hell folks!

As for Blake, she decides to go with the CLASSIC white fang logo before taking back her Black Panther allegory organization, due to A.)The new logo looks horrifying, and B.)The old one was...well actually WHITE. Seriously, shouldn’t they be called the RED fang now?

Chameleon girl and those Team Magma looking mother-fuckers stand on a rooftop because villains, and Cinder incinerates holograms of Ruby over and over because THAT is a productive use of their time.

And Taiyang looks at a Rooster Teeth wallpaper, the show’s mascot, Jaune looks at a shield before his team mates have a sad session, AND Oscar looks at a symbolic poster of symbolism on the train.

Well that was one tearfelt letter, I just hope Ruby doesn’t decide to temp the fates by writing something like-

“Now that we’ve made it across Anima, I really think things are gonna start going our way.”

DAMMIT RUBY-that Chris Sabat voiced mustache villain is on YOU!

Close it out with the traditional Rooster Teeth finale long as fuck credit sequence,Qrow meeting Oscarpin, AND FINALLY REVEALING THE FUCKING FUNCTION OF OZ’S CANE...is...to extend or retract...what a let down. CLEH-kid’s got super old man powers, maybe it depends on how he uses it.

SO THAT’S VOLUME FOUR FOLKS-hope you liked the show, and my recaps thusly! Hear’s hoping for another great one! If you like my recaps, how about donating a little to my paypal, I also plan on posting more of my comics here so that’ll be fun, as well as a link to buy LIMITED EDITION prints of my comics. WHY LIMITED ADDITION?! Because printing is expensive...what other reason?

#rwby #rwby volume 4 #ruby rose #blake belladonna #qrow branwen #lie ren #team rnjr #nora valkyrie #Yang Xiaolong #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #jaune arc #cinder fall #recap #humor

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photomaniacs · 7 years

Photo

How to Make the Jump from Amateur to Professional Photographer http://ift.tt/2sV617a

What makes a pro photographer a pro? How do you do it? Do you just wake up one day and the photo gods anoint you a pro? Do you have to pass the pro photography exam and get some sort of certificate?

I studied photojournalism at San Francisco State University where I learned a lot about the technical side of photography, ethics, work ethics, and storytelling. What I didn’t learn much about was the business the side of things. I knew in my second year of college I wanted to be professional photographer but I had no clue how to make that happen. The industry is constantly changing and universities can only teach you so much.

The challenging part isn’t becoming a pro — the hard part is having the confidence to make the leap and make it work.

I made the leap about a decade ago and it hasn’t always been easy, but I made it happen the old-fashioned way: hard work and persistence. Now I own a commercial photography and video production company, a destination wedding photography business, and I shoot as an editorial photographer as well.

When I teach workshops or meet budding photographers at events, the most common question I get asked is how to become a pro, so I decided to put my advice into an article. Everyone has a different path in their journey from amateur to pro, but I hope these tips will help steer you in the right direction.

Talent Isn’t Everything

I wasn’t the most talented student, but I worked my butt off and stayed committed. Don’t let the narcissist professionals tell you it’s all about talent. Becoming a professional photographer is like anything else: hard work pays off in the end.

Commit

Make sure you commit to making it work no matter what, through the good photos and the bad, for better or worse.

Don’t Let Contests Be Your Measuring Stick

Photography contests are a huge business and most of them are purely for them to profit from your entry fee. Don’t measure yourself by how many contests you’ve won, as your clients won’t care much about that. I’ve never had a client ask me about contests. Sure, enter them and have fun doing so but don’t stress if you haven’t won anything.

Shoot Even When You Aren’t Paid To Shoot

I’m not saying to go out there and work for free, but practice and shoot whenever you can. If you want to learn about portrait photography, gather your friends and do portraits of them for fun. Borrow lights if that’s your thing and figure how to use them.

Get A Proper Portfolio Website

A Facebook gallery isn’t a website, a Flickr account isn’t a website, an Instagram account isn’t a website — you get the picture. Your website should have portfolio galleries in your specialties (e.g. weddings, portraits, products). You need a contact page, and about page, and a simple logo.

Of course, having social media accounts is important but use those outlets to draw attention to your portfolio website where potential clients can see your work and hire you. I use Squarespace, they are super easy to use, very professional customized templates and they won’t break the bank. Another great option is PhotoShelter, they are great resource for business advice and to manage your archive.

Equipment

Don’t be intimated by photographers with lenses on top of lenses and mounds of gear. Get a simple kit that you can afford. It’s easy to think “oh, if I had that $4K camera I’d be much better. Get better by practicing and learning not by spending. Now I have expensive equipment, true, but when I started I shot with one lens and one camera for an entire year’s worth of assignments and I got by just fine.

Treat Yourself Like A Business

When you first start off you are the head of marketing, sales, accountant, etc. Understand the basics of these positions and apply them to your business. Download basic contracts and invoice templates and customize them as you grow larger.

Commit

Wait, dude, you already said that. Well, it’s worth mentioning twice so there, I said it. You will have moments when you will be bummed out because of a slow month(s) — photographer’s doubt I call it — but stay with it and use that down time to focus on positive things like practicing and learning something new.

Don’t Be An Ass

This applies to all professionals I suppose, but I feel many photographers can, well, be asses. Don’t be insulted when you get low ball offers or asked to work for free. Let me rephrase that, you can be insulted, just don’t show it and don’t burn bridges. Understand your value, the market, and politely explain (not in condescending way) why your fees are the way they are.

Don’t Expect It To Be Easy

I’ve met a lot people who get into photography because they are lazy and it sounded better than a 9-5pm job. I said it, writers and photographers are some of the laziest people I know and the ones who get work hustle and have ambition, the ones who don’t are lazy. It’s pretty simple. When they aren’t shooting, they are b**ching online about other’s work, hanging out in cafés not getting anything done. When I’m not shooting, I’m clocking in and putting full work days into my business, marketing, sales, research, etc.

Stack The Odds In Your Favor

For many editorial photographers, their personal work/projects is their portfolio. Spend a lot of time on your projects and do them right. If photographer A spent 1 week on his personal project and photographer B spent 2 years on theirs, photographer B has a huge advantage. Most editors aren’t looking at how long you spent shooting your projects, they are looking at the final product and that’s it, so spend time on your project and get it right.

Crowd Funding

I bet you think I’m going to tell you that this is a great resource. I heard a panel directed at young aspiring photographers teaching them about crowdfunding as a business plan and it upset me — ok, it pissed me off.

Don’t rely on others’ money to start your career, it’s like asking for donation for a charity and there are people in need a lot more than your friends funding you to travel to Africa to take pictures. Don’t be an ass, like I said before — work and save and fund yourself. I get it for Kickstarter and places like that where you are trading special editions of a book, or selling prints, and stuff like that. I just mean don’t make this your only source of income. It’s not sustainable and your friends/family will get sick of funding you to travel around and take pictures.

Having A Book Doesn’t Make You Good

I see people rush to publish a book as if that solidifies their place as a pro. Anyone can self publish a book, it’s very easy to do. I can go out this afternoon, take selfies of me taking selfies, title it self reflection, and have my book published by this evening. Does that make me a pro? Does that make me good? No, it makes me a narcissistic weirdo. It can be expensive and time-consuming to publish your own book, so wait until you have a body of work or project that you feel is worthy of a book and then do it right.

Understand The Market And The Competition

It’s very important to understand the market and your competition, so d*mn important. Look at the work of photographers in your market, see what they are doing right with their branding, marketing, etc and learn from them. I’m not saying to copy everything they are doing, just use them as a measuring stick for you and your business.

Make An Announcement To The World

Walk out of your house or apartment right now and scream to the world, “I’m a professional photographer!” Ok, don’t do that, but rather, when you meet people in the real world, introduce yourself as a photographer rather than “oh I work in the cooperate world and sometimes I take photos of this, that, and the other thing.” See yourself as a photographer and others will see you the same way. Do the same in the social media world as well.

Have A Content Strategy

I work with great content strategist named Brandon Chew. He’s taught my a lot for all my brands and helps me strategize on social content. We think carefully how each social media outlet identity and purpose and how each outlet fits into the brand scheme of our marketing strategy. For example, I use Instagram to tease content that’s on my website, things like that. It’s also important to budget and strategize on how you target and boost posts. Email Brandon if you want to take your business to the next level.

I hope these tips were helpful to you.

About the author: Justin Mott is photographer based in Thailand and Vietnam serving all of Asia and beyond. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. He has shot over 100 assignments for the New York Times, TIME, Forbes, The Wall Street Journal, and The Guardian, and many others. Mott is also host and resident judge of History Channel’s hit photography reality series Photo Face-Off. Visit his website here. For more tips and articles from Justin please visit askmott.com and follow Justin on all social media outlets with the handle @AskMOTT. This article was also published here.

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The post How to Make the Jump from Amateur to Professional Photographer appeared first on CameraFreaks.

June 22, 2017 at 06:00PM

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