#the title of this collection was 'the acrobats'
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Franck Sorbier Fall 2022 Couture
Photos courtesy of Franck Sorbier
#fashion#franck sorbier#fall 2022#couture#scopophobia#favorite#the title of this collection was 'the acrobats'#and it is dedicated to jacques perrin#and it is all about being yourself and bucking trends#there was a horse#multiple horses actually
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request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?
Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.
Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).
[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]
Check out the full Oversight universe
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.
Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.
Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.
The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.
“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”
The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.
You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.
It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.
Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.
“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”
“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”
Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.
From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.
“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”
She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.
The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.
This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.
The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.
A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.
Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.
You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.
The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.
He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”
“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”
He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.
You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.
Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.
He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.
God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.
The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.
The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”
“You’re two months late on rent.”
“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”
You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.
“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”
“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”
Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.
With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.
“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.
“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”
He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.
“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”
“Employer? You work for that… monster?”
“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”
Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.
“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”
“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”
Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.
It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.
“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”
You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.
“Shit, baby, hit me again!”
He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.
It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.
You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.
You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”
“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”
You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.
“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”
By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.
She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.
“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.
“I don’t care”
“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”
Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.
Nothing Natasha did was innocent.
“What happened up there?” Kate asked.
The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.
When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”
“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”
“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”
You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.
“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”
“A history, or a… history?”
“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”
Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.
“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.
Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.
“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”
“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”
“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”
But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.
“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”
Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.
“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”
You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.
“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”
It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.
The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.
Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.
“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.
There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.
Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.
“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”
The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.
A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”
“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”
“Gross, no.”
Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.
“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”
“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”
She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”
The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.
“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”
You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.
Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”
“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”
That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.
Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.
“He laid his hands on you.”
“Yeah, Nat, he did.”
“He touched you.”
“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”
“Without permission.”
“He’ll never do it again.”
Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.
“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”
She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.
“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.
Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.
Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.
Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.
Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.
She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.
“Get in the car.”
“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”
“What?”
She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.
“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”
Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.
The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.
For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.
“Come on.”
There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.
Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.
There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.
She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”
You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”
“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”
Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.
“What the fuck!”
Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.
He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.
“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”
“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”
“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”
“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”
Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.
“You walked out on them.”
“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”
To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.
“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”
“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”
“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”
Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.
“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”
The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.
“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”
She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.
“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”
“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”
Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”
“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”
“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”
“Until they know it’s not one.”
It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.
With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.
“Nat,” You breathed.
“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”
“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”
“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”
You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.
You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.
Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”
You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.
As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”
You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.
“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”
“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”
“I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”
[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]
#Natasha Romanoff#Natasha Romanov#Natasha Romanoff x reader#Natasha Romanoff x y/n#Natasha ROmanoff x you#Natasha Romanov x y/n#Natasha Romanov x you#Natasha Romanov x reader#Mafia au#Yelena Belova#Kate Bishop#Clint Barton#Reader insert#request
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I think about this part of the Rise movie a lot.
Specifically the way each of them say one word of the title.
Mikey says "teenage" because he's very defined by his status as a kid, the youngest brother, the one who's bright and positive and rambunctious, his fighting style being very acrobatic and wild. His mystic power is fiery and fluid, flexible like he is.
Donnie says "mutant" because his defining trait is being a scientist, his species and physical body and the way him and his brothers were created are important to his identity and perception of himself, it's his biology.
Raph says "ninja" because he's the one that packs the most muscle into their battles, he trains hard to protect his brothers and to complete missions. His status as a crime fighter is important to him.
Leo says "turtles" because it's what all of them identify the most with, and he's the one uniting them.
Yeah, they're all teenagers and they're all mutants and they're all ninjas, but just the word "turtle" is what describes all of them at their core. No one of them identifies more or less with that word than any of the others, they simply just are.
When Mikey looks at himself and his brothers, he sees a group of teenagers. When Donnie looks at himself and his brothers, he sees a collective of non-humans. When Raph looks at himself and his brothers, he sees a team of crime fighters. When Leo looks at himself and his brothers, he sees a little family of turtles, his family. All of them are turtle brothers first, everything else second.
#I swear to god this had to be intentional#I'n not overanalysing you're overanalysing#I'm not normal about this movie#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#rise of the tmnt movie#rottmnt movie
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Kehinde Wiley's "HAVANA"
Kehinde Wiley, renowned for his large-scale oil portraits that reinterpret European painting traditions by prominently featuring Black and Brown individuals, once again challenges conventional narratives in his latest collection titled HAVANA, currently showcased at Sean Kelly in New York. Wiley's unique style typically involves vibrant backgrounds and positing his subjects in grand, colorful patterns. He drew inspiration from two trips to Cuba, in 2015 and 2022, exploring the vibrant, festive spirit present in many global celebrations like Mardi Gras.
In this collection, Wiley captures the diverse, creative personalities of his subjects adorned in bright clothing and accessories. He articulates that despite their differing experiences, a common thread that binds them is the economic impact of America on Cuba – a relationship steeped in fascination, suspicion, intrigue, and cultural significance. His work also pays homage to influential artists such as Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, Pablo Picasso, and Alexander Calder, who examined similar themes during the early 20th century. Through depicting acrobats, dancers, and musicians, Wiley explores Cuba's political history, economic struggles, and the relentless quest for artistic liberty, using the spectacle of circuses and carnivals as a platform for celebration, disruption, and self-expression.
THE SUPERSONIC ART SHOP | FOLLOW ON INSTAGRAM
#art#painting#kehinde wiley#portraits#fine art#contemporary art#powerful#poignant#exhibition#gallery
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Review - Jet Set Radio Future on Evolution Magazine Vol.3 (Videogame Magazine) (Italy, 2002)
Translation in English:
(Page 54-55)
DISTRIBUTION - INFOGRAMES
GENRE: ACTION
PLAYERS: 1-4
MANUFACTURER: SEGA
DEVELOPER: SMILEBIT
FORMAT:XBOX
MEDIA: DVD-ROM
The concept of love, roller skates and a can of spray paint...
Almost two years ago, Jet Set Radio for the Dreamcast revolutionized the concept of modern video games. It wasn't a sequel, it wasn't a third-person adventure, it couldn't benefit from a character of attraction like Sonic but, despite everything, we were facing a great game. To tell the truth, it wasn't even easy to classify it in a precise genre; Jet Set Radio was an action game, but it had one feature that was increasingly difficult to find in this industry; the originality. Too bad that for most everything has gone unnoticed for the simple fact of running on Dreamcast. Fortunately, the European launch of the Xbox has resurrected a franchise deserving of the attention of the mass (yes: I said mass) of gamers.
The scenario of the action is a futuristic Tokyo of 2024, in which we will dart around with our "fireblade" model skates at high speed, drawing graffiti on the walls and performing acrobatic evolutions on all plausible and "grindable" surfaces. The aim of the mission, in the role of the young skater Yoyo, will be to recruit new members for our gang (after having regularly defeated them) and fight the terrible Rokkaku, a corporation that keeps the city on fire and acts with the complicity of the police local. This will chase us with any means, including tanks and helicopters! The whole adventure will be narrated by Professor K, a rebel DJ at the head of the transgressive private radio Jet Set. After passing the tutorial, disguised as the first level of the game, and having made the acquaintance of Gum and Corn (already present in the Dreamcast version ) we will be ready to dive into the most eclectic and fun challenge of our new career as writers: painting the walls of the city! And it's a real blast running around Tokyo, especially thanks to the beauty of the levels, some of which are truly jaw-dropping. Local traffic, crows perched on the roofs of houses, people in modern clothes who run away when they see us, everything has been created with particular attention to the refinement of detail. Unlike the first episode, in which the graffiti was created through complex rotations of the analog stick, now it is sufficient to press the R key (or the X and Y keys if you are in the air); understandable choice, if you take into account the fact that most of the graffiti you will have to do during the race. Jet Set Radio Future, in fact, is faster and more adrenaline-pumping than the prequel, and the emphasis was placed by Smilebit more on the stunts to be performed with skates than on the drawing of the graffiti. Precisely for this reason, to try to reach the most hidden areas to paint, we will have to learn how best to exploit the livery of our skates to slide (grind) on the most unusual surfaces (telephone wires, railings, stairs and lamp posts) and increase the thrust of our jumps. Furthermore, after collecting ten cans of spray paint, we will be able to activate the turbo boost, useful for having a greater thrust during the stunt phase. This effect is emphasized by the Xbox hardware through a spectacular screen deformation, which lets the gamer's jaw sink a few feet.
If all this were not enough, know that by continuing in the missions we will be able to select new characters, each with their own personal characteristics, from a rich roster that includes twenty-one skaters. JSRF is not only great playability: the originality and immediacy of the gameplay are accompanied by an equally valid technical realization. Graphically, Jet Set is one of the best titles to appear on Xbox so far, if not the best. The three-dimensional engine behind the Sega production is entirely in cel shading: although the environment is entirely polygonal, the less trained eye has the impression of watching and playing a real cartoon. The large number of moving objects on the screen at the same time immediately catches the eye; but the much-discussed slowdowns are very few and, certainly, not such as to negatively affect the gameplay.
The richness of details is astonishing: not only will you be "inundated" by polygons wherever you turn, but also the variety and resolution of the textures are incredible. The whole game is full of touches of class: lighting effects, lens flare used at best, stylistic traits designed to give greater dynamism and speed to the evolution of the characters, very vast and decidedly "alive" environments. And all of this shoots at an almost constant 60fps! Fortunately, Xbox Pai owners weren't penalized by the conversion: JSRF makes use of the 60 hertz mode, the image is full screen, without annoying black bars, and all the dialogues have been subtitled in Italian.
The audio part is no less impressive, with a soundtrack that mixes songs from the Japan and U.S.A versions of Jet Set Radio and adds new ones. The opening track made by Hideki Naganuma (The Concept Of Love) is already an editorial catchphrase, and we wouldn't be surprised if you started humming it habitually, too. If you own a Hi-Fi system with Dolby Digital 5.1 decoding, be sure to plug in Xbox and savor the sweet panning of Jet Set Radio Future. If you do not yet own it, you may be satisfied with the more classic stereo mode.
“...the originality and immediacy of the gameplay are accompanied by an equally valid technical realization.”
Some elements of the three-dimensional environments can be destroyed.
The characters are made up of polygons in Cel Shading and animated in a fluid way.
(Page 56)
THREE CHEERFUL GUYS OUT OF THEIR MINDS
JET SET RADIO FUTURE SOUNDTRACK
The Jet Set Radio Future soundtrack includes a tracklist created by artists from the American hip hop scene. The Latch Brothers, a group formed by three nice composers (Mike D, Tick and Wag), wrote and composed five tracks of the soundtrack of the title Smilebit. The chosen style varies from rock to hip hop, passing through electronic music that gives the title a greater futuristic atmosphere. In addition, the Latch Brothers have remixed the songs from the prequel (which we recall were played by the likes of Bran Van 3000, The Prunes and BS 2000), resulting in an almost unprecedented musical accompaniment. To top it all off, there are some "extended versions" by other musicians on the defunct Grand Royal label: Bis, Cibo Matto, Scapegoat Wax and Russel Simins. WaveMaster's Hideki has also left his mark on the Xbox version of JSR: by him the opening track "The Concept Of Love". A track that has already entered the Evolution charts ...
The Latch Brothers discuss with Smilebit the possibility of composing some tracks of the Jet Set Radio Future soundtrack.
After an elaborate discussion, the proposal is accepted! In exchange for three copies of the game, the Latch Brothers will produce five unreleased tracks and the remix of those from the last edition. Of course, the final compensation was quite different....
(Page 57)
On the longevity side, Jet Set Radio has some ups and downs: although finishing the game the first time will not engage you for more than 10-15 hours in total, the Sega title is not the classic product that, once completed, you abandon altogether. In addition to the aforementioned characters to unlock, we will have the opportunity to "learn" new graffiti as well as to create new and customized ones. In this way, we will be able to unleash our artistic talent and daub virtual walls with only the limit of our creativity. In addition, multiplayer ensures (if you have friends to play with) a good number of additional hours of gameplay. There are five modes available, supporting up to four players: City Rush, a real speed race; Tagger's Tag, in which the goal is to "tag" your opponent first with spray paint; Graffiti Wars, the "graffiti war," in fact, where the winner will be the player who manages to cover as many walls as possible with their graffiti (you can even draw over each other's graffiti), Flag, a nice variation of the "capture the flag" seen in titles with pronounced shoot-em-up ambitions, and, finally, Ball Hog, a race through the chosen level in the company of a ball that we won't have to let get out of our hands.
The latter mode is even more fun when played "cooperatively" together with a partner to whom you can pass the sphere!
Looking for flaws in a title like Jet Set Radio Future leads one to first analyze the framing system: often, in fact, the virtual camera, in the grip of the speed at which your "skater" travels, tends to lose sight of the centrality of the scene. Other times you will have to move on very narrow surfaces, and, at times, the too-close view will be the cause of easy and deleterious falls. Although in the long run this slight flaw can be frustrating, it will be possible, at any point in the game, to bring the virtual camera view back perfectly behind our backs by simply squeezing the left trigger of the pad (somewhat as happens in Capcom's Maximo). It is actually likely that you will still make it through all the levels without too much trouble.
The difficulty, on the other hand, could and should have been calibrated in a more thoughtful way: overall, Jet Set Radio Future is quite simple to complete and, in some points, it is boring having to repeat the same situation too many times; just think of the fight with the boss of the last level: to get to the platform where he awaits you and to be able to face him, we could take more time than the actual fight requires. Also, the streamlined nature of the graffiti certainly doesn't add to the hostility of the missions. In any case, these are minor flaws, which in no way affect Jet Set Radio Future as a must for anyone with an Xbox and looking for a fast-paced and fun game, but also exceptional to watch and... to listen to! And if you loved the prequel on Dreamcast, you really can't miss it: JSRF is worth at least double its parent! - Ornella Lepre
“... the Sega title is not the classic product that, once completed, is completely abandoned.”
This is the amazing screen warping effect you will witness when you activate the turbo charge
The dialogues are all subtitled in Italian and help to better understand the story.
CONTROL BOX - XBOX
PLUS:
- Breathtaking graphics that are smooth and full of classy touches
- Original and funny
- Excellent Pal conversion
- Numerous multiplayer modes
MINUS:
- Framing system not always perfect
- Simplified graffiti system
- Long-lived but not infinite
GRAPHICS - 9
PLAYABILITY - 9
LONGEVITY - 7
SOUND - 8
GLOBAL - 8
An original title, fun to play, beautiful to look at and full of touches of class. A must for new Xbox owners
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Happy August Short Story Release Day!
Whether you’re craving fluff or feels, laughs or tears, our August general imprint short stories have got something for you!
Title: Count the Number of Seeds
Series: Sunrise Over the Black Forest
Author: Lyn Weaver
This installment of the Sunrise Over the Black Forest ‘verse, formerly Patreon-exclusive, is now finally available to our general readership!
M/M, Gothic Fantasy with Technology, Vampire grapples with the Proper Care and Handling of the human he’s definitely not pining for
The third story written in the Sunrise Over the Black Forest ‘verse, occurring second chronologically, in this tale of the vampire Sevan and the human priest Kel, Sevan suddenly realizes that humans need to eat…and he has no idea where Kel is getting food from.
If Kel starves, Sevan won’t have anyone to feed from, and that’s definitely the only reason he cares enough to pluck some apples from his orchard and bring them to Kel’s church.
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Title: if it’s meant to be
Series: Welcome to PHU
Author: Tris Lawrence
Author Tris Lawrence brings us this short, fluffy alternate universe PHU piece exploring what could have happened if Mac and Pawel had met under different circumstances.
F/M Pre-relationship, Canon Divergent Alternate Universe, A “What If They Met Differently” Story, Meet Cute
After acting as the harbinger of the Emergence when she emerged during the Olympics, Kenzie Davis buried her old identity as a gymnast, changed her name, and found a new home and new family in the circus.
Under the identity “Mac,” she’s managed to hide herself very well, using her Talent to aid her act. Her high-risk acrobatics are rendered safe by her timely teleportations…until a boy in the audience doesn’t realize it’s an act, and tries to “help” her with some magic of his own.
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Title: Chinaski’s Dirty Work
Series: Nasti Chinaski
Author: J. D. Harlock
The first story in an all-new series from imaginative author J. D. Harlock!
Magic + the Wild West, Humor and Mischief, So Much Drinking
Chinaski might be fangirling a bit when her plan to capture noted criminal Shootin’ Shiloh comes to a head in Pico’s tavern. Now, if only she can collect her pay-day without everything going wrong…
Or: the one where a lesbian bounty hunter debates whether she should seduce the mark before, during, or after the hunt.
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Title: Chrysopoeia
Author: Zel Howland
Author Zel Howland, a contributor to our upcoming anthology Aether Beyond the Binary, publishes their first stand-alone story with Duck Prints Press!
Sort-of-One-Sided F/F (It’s Complicatedtm), Trapped Together, Everyone Needs to Use Their Words, Victorian Alchemy and Witchcraft
After Faith is found guilty of witchcraft, she’s subjected to the traditional punishment for her supposed crime: imprisonment for a month in a cave that may or may not hide a gateway to Hell in its unexplored depths.
But Faith isn’t a witch. She’s an alchemist. And while she could use alchemy to survive her imprisonment…if she’s alive when the townspeople return, she’ll be executed, because obviously only a witch could survive a month stoned-in with no food or water.
Even worse, Faith is increasingly sure that she’s not alone in this cave…
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These, any many other great stories, are for sale on our webpage! Come read with us!
(Or, support us on Patreon, and claim our stories for free as a reward for your backing!)
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Top 5 characters (any media: books, TV shows, movies, anything)
SO I’m chronically unable to pick favorites of anything unless I narrow down the category but I did my best 😭
These are based on an array of characters from different mediums that I can talk about at length who—
I enjoy as a character
Are well written in a well-written story
Influenced me as a writer/artist
Occupy a lot of brain space 😆
In order from when I experienced them (below the cut because it got ridiculously long):
1. Calvin and Hobbes. Package deal. Calvin and Hobbes cartoons were how I got into reading as a kid and were a formative part of my childhood and influenced me as a storyteller in how I write, read, and draw.
2. Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride, both book and movie. What I love about Inigo as a person IS his drive for revenge and desire for justice for his father’s murder, and what I love about his character within both the book and the movie is that his story is a subplot— We don’t know if Inigo will survive the story, much less achieve his goal. The audience knows it’s a fairytale; we know Westley and Buttercup will survive and live happily ever after. Inigo Montoya does not have that guarantee.
Additionally, I love a satisfying revenge narrative. Inigo gets exactly what he wants and there’s never this wishy-washy “oh if I kill him than I’m no better than he is” nonsense that drives me INSANE when I see it in other media
3. Nightcrawler from X-Men. The X-Men movies got me into superheroes and then at about 12 I started getting into comics, but since I didn’t have access to a whole lot of them, what I would do was scour Wikipedia taking notes and reading about all of the characters and storylines I thought were interesting 😆 I was obsessed with X-Men and that was my first foray into the idea of fandom, collecting art and printing it out to put in a binder with fanfic on notebook paper and sketches on printer paper lolol. I liked Nightcrawler because depending on the story he was either a tragic character, a comedic character, or both. He’s got a fantastic design and I loved the swashbuckling rogue archetype already, as well as the circus background and acrobatic fighting style. Definitely influential. Did I have a crush on his character? Mind your own business
4. Loki from the phase 1 MCU. I did a lot of reading/writing because of his character based on the first Thor and Avengers movies. I thought he was incredibly compelling, and there’s one fanfic author whose work I really admired and are etched into my brain.
5. Din Djarin from The Mandalorian. By episode 1 you already have a good sense of who this guy is, despite the fact he is shrouded in mystery, and I LOVE characters like that. Characters whose past aren’t fully explained are great because that tension and mystery keeps audiences wondering and coming back to them, AND it gives writers the freedom to explore and add in what’s needed as the story goes along without being constrained by a past that’s already been clearly defined.
Additionally, episode 3 has one of the best narratives arcs of anything in Star Wars in my opinion, and is one of my personal favorites in storytelling in general. From the intro we know what the first act is going to be. Karga, not knowing what the target is, in a recording saying “I don’t know if [the Client] wants to eat it or hang it on his wall.” Mando’s next line being “It’s not a toy.” The whole return to the city, the audience knowing what kind of wretched hive of scum and villainy it is. Din’s uncertainty even as he gives a child to know enemies for payment. Him asking what they’re going to do with it and not receiving an answer, but a threat.
Taking payment and the title card immediately appearing to say “THE SIN.”
The rest of the episode proceeding and us FEELING the weight of guilt in Mando’s silence, the way he’s trying to justify his choice despite the fact he knows it was wrong. The war within himself between wanting to see a helpless child safe and knowing he’s the type of person who could and should see it done— who shouldn’t have been the reason for the child’s safety being compromised in the first place— and his desire to reclaim something culturally, religiously, and practically important to a persecuted people he has pledged a faithful life and allegiance to. How the two things he cares about most come into direct conflict because to prioritize one means sacrificing the other.
THE SHOT OF THE GEAR SHIFT WHEN HIS HAND HALTS MIDAIR. SO MUCH SAID IN SO LITTLE.
AND THEN HE GOES BACK!!! HE GOES BACK AND HE SAVES THE BABY!!! LITERALLY SINGLE-HANDEDLY TAKING OUT A STORMTROOPER SAFEHOUSE BECAUSE HE HAS A WEAPON IN ONE HAND AND A BABY IN THE OTHER!!!!!
He knew they nefarious reasons for wanting a child captured. Why else would you throw out a cradle?
And to top it all off they REALLY tighten the noose around his neck all the way up to the climax because as far as we know, he really DOESN’T have a way out of this. The Mandalorians coming to his aid IS a surprise but it’s not contrived and it WORKS and it’s a satisfying end because we’ve truly seen this guy give it his all and despite the fact he was the best Mandalorian he could be, his best was not enough and the audience really doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of it in the end (<- establishing the main theme of the show). Tension, raising the stakes, meaningful themes that aren’t spoon-fed to the audience, and a successful marriage of the emotional climax to the physical one.
AND THAT WAS JUST ONE EPISODE!!!
The scripts and ideas in Season 1 were so solid and done so well. I don’t know how they accidentally created one of the greatest characters of all time with so few lines of dialogue but they DID and I’ve been thinking about him for four years straight.
#asks#ask games#Be nice bc I’m being vulnerable here lolol#This was insanely difficult just trying to choose five
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When envisioning snake wyverns, one always goes to the feathered serpent.
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QESSALYS
Title - Ash snake
Monster class - Snake wyvern
Known locales - Fringes of volcanic regions, canyons and wasteland
Element/ailment - Thunder + Blast
Elemental weakness - Water (3), Ice (2), Dragon (2), Fire (2), Thunder (1)
Ailment weakness - Blast (3), Stun (3), Paralysis (1), Sleep (1), Poison (0)
Qessalys is a snake wyvern that roams harsh landscapes, ranging from the tops of rugged cliffs to the outskirts of volcanic locales. Ala Remobra, it is a rare example of a flying snake wyvern, soaring easily on its long wings. With its distinctive horns, quills and the hook-like tip of its tail, Qessalys is known as a dangerous omen wherever it flies, seeking out prey with its keen eyes and the forked tongue sensitive to aromas.
While most of its appetite is sustained with fruit, tubers and fungi, Qessalys has a preference for meat. It soars over where it believes prey is hiding and then uses an interesting technique to flush them out. The quills on its body are dropped over the targetted location, and are then ignited by a controlled shock delivered by its tail. This can create either electronic or explosive reactions, perfect for flushing out prey that is then caught by the hook-like tail. Though larger than most critters Qessalys prefers to catch, humans may also be considered prey. Field researchers should carry water on hand to soak and mitigate any quills before they can be triggered, or otherwise scare off the snake wyvern with flash bombs.
The stratagem for catching prey is also Qessalys's principle strategy in combat. It will attempt to rain its quills upon competitors or predators and then ignite them, dealing devastating damage. Otherwise, lashing out with its sharp fangs and tail will be its last resort. The tip contains the most electric charge in its body, so being struck by it can certainly shock an attacker. Qessalys excels at aerial combat, flying by and lashing out with stunning speed, but is hapless on the ground.
Similar to Remobra, Qessalys have a vulture-like quality, often coming together in groups to appraise the kills of larger carnivores. Sometimes they may work together to try and drive off the other monster, but otherwise are content to scavenge. Qessalys that come together during these opportunistic times may also seek to find a mate. The more colourful males using dazzling demonstrations and acrobatics to impress a female, and when one succeeds, the pair are bonded for life. The female will handle rearing a brood whilst the male collects food for his family; young are looked after until they can fend for themselves.
Though not the most dangerous of snake wyverns (Low Rank - 3, High/Master Rank - 2), Qessalys is still a cunning monster that requires strategy to overcome. The most effective tactic is flash bombs, stunning the snake wyvern out of the air, and using water to inhibit its quill's reactivity. Hunters should keep in mind that Qessalys will come to the aid of their own kind, so isolating the target is a necessity.
Not the most hardy of wyverns, Qessalys prefers avoiding conflict with other monsters when it can, relying on scattering its quills or ambush if it is pressed to fight. There have been times when it seems to run afoul of monsters like Kobadra or Zykitin Cerra, but for the most part Qessalys has no major predator/prey relationship or rivalry with other monsters.
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Thank you for reading and take care.
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Written for @dicktimweek 2023
Day 5: First Crush/Love | Dick learns Tim is his soulmate after Damian Gains Robin | BAMF Tim Drake
Words Count: 1649
Title: Black Dahlia
Pairing: Dick Grayson/Tim Drake
Warnings: Implied Character Death| Implied Reverse Robins AU| Implied Joker Junior AU
Dick was a naturally gifted master of performance
Perhaps the fact that he opened his eyes in a show where the led lamps illuminating the interior of the tent gave the feeling of the soft shadow of the moon and the noise of applause served as a lullaby was one of the reasons why he had this habit
Even when he was a baby bird that was too small to carry his parents in the sky with his own wings, he invited people to the show of their lives with his bright smile on his face, enjoyed the smell of excitement spreading around with pleasure
But every art had an inspiration, like that his father and mother had painted their canvas, before they met which was a blank piece of white brick, using the colors of the rainbow they had collected while floating
Dick, on the other hand, has his own in the blue eyes of an older boy he met by chance one day
A boy with a huge camera that looks big on tiny but obviously very painful calloused hands and a small but strong shining smile like a star
Timothy Drake...
It all started on a summer day when he turned 5 and it was going to be determined whether he would start accompanying his parents to their shows
That's why it wasn't a strange situation when everyone was running around with celebration supplies from a month ago, or talking about the childhood of the acrobat who made the sun jealous with their excited tones to each other
For Dick, on the other hand everything was a mess because he still hadn't figured out how to do his family's special move
Even if he felt his muscles crying with pain every day, he worked late into the night and even sometimes gave up sleeping and continued his training, nothing he did was working
He could see that his parents were looking at him with sadness so he was starting to get scared now
What if he fails and his parents start denying Dick's existence? What was he going to do then, he didn't have another family
He didn't want to be alone...
As a result, although he knew that everyone was waiting for him, he decamped through the caravans and started running towards the wooded area next to where the circus decided to stay
He had no strength left to endure this expectation any longer...
He also did not believe that anyone would try to find him, which is perhaps why the thin fingers touching his shoulder caused him to scream
Ice blue eyes that would melt with warmth nevertheless complement the body dressed in red clothes and looked at it with such sincerity that Dick believed for a moment that he was an extremely important person
'Why are you crying, are you hurt?'
He touched his hand to the point where his eyelids were, and when he felt the wetness, he made a surprised sound towards the air because he was not even aware that the tears had regained their freedom
The boy began to speak as if he had never removed the question he was asking from his thin lips while Dick was trying to wipe the wetness off his face, and the other was trying to ignore them after a caress with the hand he placed on his knee
Also Dick was having new thoughts about the beauty of the being in front of him every passing second
The more Timmy talked, I told you to call me Tim why are you already trying to find a nickname when I have one, Dick was starting to calm down a little more. Two of them even started bouncing stones in the lake opposite where they were sitting
At the end of about an hour, the younger boy began to explain what the situation that was bothering him was
In fact, he was just waiting for a conversation consisting of sentences indicating how upset they were or that such a thing would definitely not happen
It happened to everyone else like this
So the response he received in return was the last thing he expected
'Do you want me to teach you?'
In response to his incredulous looks, the teenager with straight black hair said that he really had a great teacher and that he was trying to learn all the movements that attracted his interest after his training with him
And even before his sentence was finished, he presented a perfect work of art
A special show for only certain people, like a bird flying at night
He was so lucky...
Timmy gave him tips to perfect the movement for a while, and Dick felt that after a long time he was really ready to fly
Dick wanted to give something on top of that, but what could it be?
For a few seconds, his eye was caught on the camera, which Tim did not let go of for a long time. With the idea that came to his mind, he tried to find a suitable angle by taking the machine left by the tree in his hand
When he got the position he wanted, he quickly sat Tim down and settled into his lap
'Smile Timmy!'
The young boy complied with the request and also joined their cheeks and planted a small kiss on Dick's one at a moment when he was sure that the machine had caught
After both sides got their photos in their hands, the sounds of footsteps began to approach before Dick had a chance to say anything else
'Timothy, if you're done, let's go now. Don't keep father waiting any longer'
After the sound heard from a grown man, Dick, who saw that the young boy had provided his head and slowly began to advance his body, shouted in alarm
He didn't want it to end, he didn't want to leave Timmy's side!
'Watch me before you go!'
Tim's eyebrows rose into the air with a pleasant curl, and although Dick knew even from this that his cheeks were starting to blush, he did not disturb his determined posture
Upon these words, he became possessed of that image that did not come out of his dreams. The normally air-stitched hair scattered by the summer breeze closed the ice-blue eyes for a moment, the hand that did not hold the camera threw a few tufts behind the ear, and an angelic smile that pinched the sides of his face decorated the pink lips
Ah... He didn't want him go because he had fallen in love
He forgot about the fingers touching the top of his head, the arm dragging him towards the tent or the other boy he saw just for a second who called Timmy, and he wasn't fully himself until he reached his parents' side or even presented the Grayson family's special move
If Tim is able to do the Quadruple Somersault, wouldn't that make him a Grayson?
He was awakened from his thoughts by the kiss that his mother placed on his cheeks and greeted them gently in response to the sounds of applause
'My little Robin... We always knew you would make us proud'
He could look into his mother's smiling eyes and feel that he was starting to laugh through his aching cheeks, or he could relive how full of confidence his father's peaceful embrace was
Turning his head, he turned to Tim, who was standing at the end of the tent door. The young boy was waiting like being the most beautiful being he had ever seen, and he was kind of sending his congratulations by raising his thumb to him
And then he was gone before Dick could talk to him again
So Dick squeezed the photo he put in his pocket with all his might
The one which Tim kissed him...
Would he ever see him again, he wonder
This question continued to haunt his brain until the death show of his family. Every year, he would examine the people inside the tent before going on stage and would give Tim his art along with every beautiful feeling from his heart
Now the top of his canvas was covered with blood, a storm had broken in the sky he was flying
He closed his eyes and tried to eliminate the pain, but he just didn't know what to do
And then Dick felt startled by the hand placed on his shoulder as he cried, knowing that his parents' broken wings would never heal again and that their bodies, captured by wild animals, would be buried in the ground
Nevertheless, he raised his head, ignoring the drops floating from the tears that filled the blues
Opposite him was a young man whose hair reached to his shoulders. Although the hood was tightly covered, the green wires decorating the ends could be noticed
But the really noticeable part was perhaps the scars that turned the sides of his mouth into a horror movie scene. It's like someone put a knife through the tip of his lip and went to the last point he could go
As if this situation would prevent Dick from recognizing him...
'Timmy?'
The blue-green eyes opened in surprise and the decayed hands buried in his hair paused for a few seconds
Then the head area moved towards the shoulder with a slight curve. As if he didn't know what he was talking about
Dick remembered a news story he had read in one of the newspapers called the Joker attack in Gotham and what happened as a result, and realized that the stones had fallen into place
So while he was even more upset that everyone he loved had to suffer, he cried once again for all of the childhood he had lost
He was cursed...
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Training Buddies
My Hero Academia
Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader x Bakugou Katsuki
Warnings: Fluff, exercise, language.
Ao3
Inspired by a DBZ tiktok I can't find of 18 spotting for Krillin and getting flustered. I also cannot think of a better title @_@
Story:
Downtime you spent your days exercising in the Dynamight Agency’s gym. Constantly working on Yoga and Aerobics, due to having a strength Quirk. Kinetic Expansion, the more of an ass kicking you got, the stronger you got. Similar to Fatgums you could release a single blast of power and have to completely work yourself up from ground zero. Leaving you in a weakened state.
If any exercises you worked on, push ups with each finger, and balance. You could easily be found jumping from one equipment to the next in an acrobatic nature.
Bakugou had been watching for the past ten minutes. Finally walking into the gym he made his way to the bench press. “Oi. Spot me.” Just as you were catching yourself in a handstand on one of the gymnastic bars throughout the gym. Panting with your hair falling downwards, you twisted yourself and hopped off.
“Got it Boss.” You responded, it was about time for a small break in any case. You then paused as you watched him take his shirt off, and moving to work with what you already had on the press, and you blanched. “Wa-wait! I need to take some weight off!”
You rushed over to grab two hundred kg off of the bars, leaving about 250 kg. on it. Bakugou only shrugged, as he was used to you using the equipment and leaving the weights on. Which was why he wanted you to spot him.
Laying back on the bench you helped him with the barbell, and he did a couple before putting it back up. “Put 100 kg back on it. I’m not weak.” Bakugou grunted as you lifted the weight with ease to put it back on. Assisting him, he grunted as he started to push it up with his arms, and back down to his collarbone, before repeating, and placing it back. “50 more…”
You couldn’t stop the flush from showing on your face as you did as he requested, watching as your eyes would randomly glance at his chest or abs. His arms flexed as he pumped the barbell up and down. Continuing with five sets of ten, before you moved for him to put the barbell back. He leaned forward grabbing his towel and wiped himself, and drank some water.
You blew out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and collected yourself. “Is that all you got? Come on, you got a couple more sets in you, ya?” You challenged him.
“Damn right I do.” Bakugou smirked at that, moving to go back to laying down and lifting the barbell over him. This time his eyes were glued onto your face as you tried to look everywhere but his muscles. Pushing it up to you, you reached over with a hand lifting it from his hands and placing it back in its proper place.
“Not bad.” You shrugged as Bakugou huffed out a sound similar to a laugh.
“I impress the World's Strongest huh?” Bakugou smugly questioned as he took a drink of water.
“World's strongest my ass. I only get strong when I get my ass handed to me.” You blushed, rolling your eyes “You impress me every day Blasty. I don’t exactly need to work for it, however the fact that you work for it is impressive in itself.”
“Enough chatter.” Bakugou stood grabbing his tank and water bottle. “Dinner, my place.” It was a statement more so than a question.
You only smiled, “Of course. Lead the way.” you responded as the two of you walked out.
#Boku no hero academia#BnHA#My Hero Academia#MHA#x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#Bakugou Katsuki x you#bakugou katsuki#Bakugou
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seeing your post about trans Robin had me blanking on wait which Robin had we been talking about before I realized it was about HIMYM but it DID make me curious - do you have any trans headcanons about the Robins of the Bat-variety? ;)
hahahaha, i absolutely love the confusion. i wouldn't say trans so much as trans umbrella, depending on your definition, and even still I only have strong feelings about my favorite acrobatic menace.
so tdlr; Dick Grayson is THE MOST genderfluid character in all of Gotham/Bludhaven and arguably DC. (i mean my sideblog title is literally "dick grayson gender envy"). case in point, the below panel:
(shh let me have this)
BUT that being said I'm feral about this boy so if anyone wants to read my very long collected thoughts and links I'm going to have to add a read more here
so this post by @batphobique summarizes all of this way better than i can, with canon panels, but I'll add my own little thoughts
personality-wise: the bird invented Eldest Daughter Syndrome, for one. Also, and while this is my opinion, there is a reason why his closest friendship (that's practically a qpr in some storylines) is with an Amazon like Donna. Dick is one of the few 'men' allowed into Themyscira, largely unsupervised, like seen here during Donna's funeral:
external presentation with the disclaimer that of course anyone of any gender or lack there of can present however, we're just going with a male character historically written by cishet men:
speaking of donna, who he canonically shares clothes with ignoring gender difference:
his insane ability to pull off long hair when it's not tied back:
There's the discowing suit that at least for the era was probably the 'sluttiest' male uniform in the universe at the time? look at that cleavage!! + his infamous booty that even cishet men get mad about if drawn incorrectly
everyone say ty nicola scott:
the way he can sit like a lady and yet man-spread the next in one scene:
the truly unnecessary dramatic gay need to stand like this:
or to fall like this:
other miscellaneous vibes: His most current Nightwing run features a few covers in trans flag colors 1/2, and additionally he's generally featured in DC Pride on Variant covers for no explicitly stated reason??
and while I do prefer to hc him as genderfluid, there is the hilarity of an ftm man going by the name Dick. (also see: BOY wonder)
#dick grayson#dick & donna#dc comics#can you believe i finally posted it phoe?#mutuals#*by me#genderfluid#genderfluid!dick grayson
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BINGO ROUND UP
a GL & a disabled MC: pluto!! we got one gang!! i'm just so pleased that we're making some headway on GL being regularly scheduled as part of their production rotation as it should be <3 i will say that the plot of this one wouldn't be doing it for me if it weren't GL, and whacks of nicholas sparks a bit more than is usually my taste. BUT things change over production, and i'm more than willing to be surprised!! interesting that they're opting for another disabled lead specifically w/blindness. i'm still scared but hopeful about their engagement w disability generally, and i do think it's cool that they're not portioning out intersections to their own shows to be the ~ focal issues ~ . it bodes well i think, and i'm really buzzing to see namtan and film's dynamic.
big shock pairing to make me rub my hands together like a fly: my golden blood come collect your trophy!! also putting a dent on main role for fluke and speculative element series, this has me absolutely fucking roided with anticipation lmao. it looks bananas, and chancey, and like the people making it are determined to do so with fun and camp, which is my favourite way to see a project made. i love that as well as unbranded, fluke has managed to stay role flexible enough that he can slide into this fantasy damsel space, and i'm gagging to see it all. maybe he'll wear something white and billowing and dashed with blood, gmmtv seems to be in the spirit of granting wishes w this one.
there seemed to be some rivals to lovers edged stuff, but not in the flavours i wanted so i left it uncircled. also disappointed by the lack of girl violence...that friend vs friend/school gang series could have been fun if it'd been girls in ripped fishnets with bats but i digress.
2024 for 23.5 is not the series of numbers i wanted to write, and no final trailer. and also barely any milk!! she was only on stage the once and not for something i'm interested in, so i'm chalking that up to tragedy. but she looked fucking smashing today, so i'll just have to fold up her event portrait in a locket or smth
congrats to the enigma fans [weeps in midnight museum]
i'm frustrated by how much leaning is being done on remakes, even just because being tagged in so many people's bingo i see how many cool, original ideas there are out there, and it just makes me gag in corporate to see this laziness. i wanted to watch whatever the gemfourth offering was bc i liked them so much in moonlight chicken, but i'll probably be giving their kieta hatsukoi a miss. i've never seen ossan's love, and getting a last dance with mix was on my list so i'll probably give it a go but i'm still miffed about it
i got monkeys pawed on the fighting and stunts bc none of it (except the camp acrobatics of my golden blood) seems like my flavour. alas alack
and a campy comedic role for my girl jan in the other drama to hit my spec fic box!! just like UMG, peaceful property on sale (not 100% sure on the title) looks like exactly my bag. i'm indifferent to whether it's actually BL, but thrilled that tay will be there. i can't think of anyone better to play the guy that can see ghosts, given his huge irl superstitious dramatics and easy goosing. this show is going to be so fun, and i think i might have even spotted a similar ghost-makeup style to what they used in something in my room? i'm so looking forward to this one, and it's so rude of them to tease me with it in october of all times, and not give it to me immediately.
overall, hits, misses, dodgy singing. thanks to everyone who played bingo with me, you all have beautiful creative minds and i hope anyone who had a bingNO this time gets a better part 2 <33
#gmmtv 2024#gmmtv2024#genuinely thanks so much to everyone who played/tagged me when they used the template#i feel very connected to this wild exciting fiction-enjoyer community
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Billy Lenz (1974) Headcanons
what the title says. this is a pretty long list, some of the headcanons are pretty detailed, so if that's annoying I'm sorry </3
WARNINGS! descriptions of abusive family members, these honestly center more around what I think a "lucid" billy would do, but insane murderous billy is mentioned. 2k+ words.
here are some of my very own hc's of the attic dweller, the weirdo, the rat, the man that needs mountains and mountains of therapy.
anyway. moving on.
headcanon temp credit belongs to writingraven!
billy strongly dislikes dogs. even the exceptionally soft, teddy bear-looking ones. he thinks they all resemble ugly beasts, just waiting to pounce on him and rip him apart as if he were a stuffed teddy bear. they're a bit of a fear of his, I want to say. billy has no trouble looking directly at one or moving towards one, but if a golden doodle were to sniff his pant legs, he'd recoil and shuffle away. he'd also give any passing dog he sees a childish glare.
this man cannot sit still, he has to be bouncing off the walls every second of every day. you'll have to physically force him to stay still, cause he will not be paying any heed to your warnings or requests to just sit in a chair like a normal person. (he's not really that normal though, is he?) I also like to think billy can be pretty flexible, acrobatic stunts are sort of a knack of his. it was actually one of the few things he was complimented on during his childhood and teen years. of course, I don't think he was like crazy flexible, but just to the point it was admirable. also, fidgets with his hands a lot. he has a bad habit of biting his nails and skin sometimes, usually in situations where he feels a deep trench in his stomach, swirling in a substance of anxiety.
used to adore pigs as a kid. for the very few times either of his parents took him to the zoo, or perhaps he saw the fat pink animals lazing around in the pastures right next to his house occasionally, he would coo at them and take mental notes on the noises they made. this is where I think he got his line "pretty piggy" from, also reenacts their "oink" sounds because of this.
billy is a sarcastic little bitch, and I will stand by this. he seems like the type of person who would scoff at someone for asking a slightly idiotic question. "what year is it again?" "1456." "wait what" "the year is fucking 1974 you dumb fuck." yeah, I headcanon him being pretty mean, even when lucid and not having murderous intentions. although, I do think he isn't always like this. if you were to ask him for help on a math problem or something he may or may not make an effort to help you. it kinda depends on what state of mind he's in that day. a relatively good one? sure, ask him away. feeling like crap and the urge to spill blood all over the walls? don't talk to him. in fact, get out of there.
I wanna think this man has a few light freckles that dot his nose and face. he's a bit insecure about them, but on some good days, he likes to look in the mirror and think of them as like a constellation.
not a huge fan of cooking, but he does like to occasionally bake, particularly cookies. gender bread cookies are his favorite to ornament, with all the cool designs you can do with them. however, his favorite cookie to engulf has to be those girl scout lemon cookies. he distinctly remembers the first time buying (stealing) a box of them during his senior year of high school and absolutely salivated at the taste of them. billy uses baking as some kind of coping mechanism, I believe. it's comforting and calming for him, keeping him from going berserk and leading a blood trail in his wake.
billy has some concerning coping skills, although I do like to paint that he also has some frankly normal ones. s^x is one of them (don't know if this is canon or not). this kind of correlates to his hypersexuality. during the time of cooping up in the sorority's attic, billy collected loose/lost rubber bands that the girls owned. picking them up from the empty hallways at night and early mornings between the couches. with them, he liked to snap them against his wrists when he felt like he was on the edge of slipping into an indistinct state of mind, snapping him back into reality. yet once he noticed the vibrant red markings beginning to appear, outlining them, he began to intertwine all the rubber bands to shape a ball. with it, he would squeeze it whenever needed. (I don't wanna get into what I think some of his unhealthy coping mechanisms are just yet, as afraid I'll explain them wrong, so that's all for now.)
billy honestly wishes every day that he worked as a sculptor. it was a strong passion of his ever since seventh grade when his art teacher began the unit "the art of sculpturing". he found it so fascinating and tried his very very best on the project they had to do for the unit. it wasn't very often billy took pride in his work, but for that particular project, he felt proud of himself once he finished it, even more so when his teacher came by to check on his progress and made a good note on it. once high school started, billy saved up the money he gained from working shifts in a coffee shop, and bought sculpting classes to take. it was hard to manage, however. he didn't want his parents, god forbid his mom, from knowing. so every time he was getting ready to leave, he'd come up with some lame lass excuse. however, it wasn't much since his parents were neglecters, so thinking back, he could've probably easily walked out the door without anyone saying a thing.
comes from a very abusive and neglectful family (canon...i think). I like to think that 1974 billy's past wasn't AS BAD as 2006, but still pretty traumatic. his mom never paid attention to him or his health, his dad was a misogynist and some of the comments he made regarding women got into billy's head and rotted it a bit (his phone calls). his parents were the type of people who lost their cool easily, one mistake and a loud 'smack' would resonate the room, a bright red handprint now marking his cheek. he had learned that from a very early age, unfortunately. so by fourth grade, billy had learned his manners and to be extremely cautious of his word choices and body language. his brain developed severe anxiety at the age of twelve, gaining a bad habit of bouncing his leg. the sound of his father's heavy footsteps and his mom's loud shrieking voice always stirred a panic attack within him, even if none of the tributes were directed at him. his parent's violent behavior gradually rubbed off on him, and that's one of the reasons why billy has now such strong murderous cravings. it only got worse after he had killed them.
I like to believe this man would absolutely worship hippie 70s fashion clothing. tie-dye shirts, homemade accessories (beaded necklaces, bracelets, etc.), vests, collard shirts, all that good shit. the only thing remotely close to hippie fashion that he owns though is his turtle neck and bell bottoms. billy only actually got into this sense of style when he was already in his early twenties and running around Canada with blood tainting his skin. his dress attire during his childhood and teen years mostly consisted of plain long sleeve shirts and blue jeans with a pair of snow boots. not much of a fashion icon, never had the money or skill.
hates loud noises. hurts his ears and it's one of the reasons I feel he hates going out in public so much. people. they chatter all day, practically screaming in a mile-foot radius, without even considering those around them. billy fears one day he'll be caught and sent (back???) to the mental institution, where they'll plant needles into his skin, and billy detests needles. out of the very few things he was grateful for in his childhood, was that he was never taken to the doctor, so he never had to experience the pain at an early age. a part of him feels a smile creep on his face whenever he occasionally walks down the streets of Toronto and sees a happy family all cuddled up and smiling. he feels happy for them, glad that they have a functioning system, and feel content in each other's company. yet, the angry side of him is crammed with enviousness and hatred. why did they get the smiles and laughs? what made them so deserving of a cheerful family? no neglect present, no sharpening glares, except playful. his eyes begin to burn and he quickly looks away, shuffling back to the sorority where he was not welcomed.
actually has some pretty decent handwriting, not like cursive or anything, but readable and pleasant looking. (this is so random but I wanted to include it.)
besides killing and harassing women over the phone, billy fairly enjoys baking as mentioned, and drawing as a hobbie. he's not the best at traditional art; sculpting consumed him in high school, not leaving much room to practice his traditional art skills. but whenever he feels like it and a drawing utensil plus a piece of paper is near, he likes to draw whatever comes to mind. whether it be one of the girls or Claude that sits up in the attic with him a lot. also enjoys reading, I imagine billy is a fast reader and can read over complex sentences quicker than most people can complete a tongue twister. his favorite genre is murder mystery, he finds the questionable type of books fun and amusing. just sitting on the edge of your seat as you wait to unravel the one behind it all.
billy has pretty dark humor, he's one to probably accidentally offend someone with a joke that slipped out.
unexpectedly, billy has some decent hygiene. he cuts his nails when they end up getting too long and makes sure to file them down. sometimes likes to steal barb's lotion that sits on one of the bathroom countertops. (this man truthfully has some nice hands, so this might as well be canon /j) whenever the girls are asleep or out of the house, he sneaks out of the attic door and slides into the bathroom, taking quick showers to rid himself of grim and dirt. he hates the feeling of it sticking to his skin for too long, although, over time he's gotten pretty used to it. still doesn't like the cakey sensation of it all. not great at remembering to brush his teeth, but when he does he does it thoroughly. every day he gives his hair a quick brush and nothing else.
billy enjoys sitting by the fireplace and reading a book when he has the opportunity. especially on cold winter days, when the snowstorm outside is just bashing against the wood and rattling the panes of the windows. the attic is arctic once winter hits, a large disadvantage for billy sadly. so whenever the girls are cooped up in their beds or out of the house (again), he snatches the occasion up and dashes down the staircase simply to be able to feel the hospitable heat of the radiant embers and relish in a good book with a soft wool blanket draped over his shoulders. (and perhaps a small snack or heat-up leftovers)
neither a morning person nor a night person. or an afternoon/evening/dawn person. this man just does not care about time unless it benefits him.
billy enjoys listening to classical and jazz, majorly jazz, however. I imagine a favorite song of his would be "Love Will Bring Us Back Together" by Roy Ayers. But, for more of his "go stupid go crazy" side, I believe he would appreciate surf rock as well, religiously listening to "Alien Blues" by Vundabar if he were set in modern times. "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen would also be on his list.
partakes in poetry to a certain extent. I think he would understand why people seem to love it so much and spend their free time or take on it with their careers, however, he can't really find himself eventually adoring it the same way. it's just not much of an interest to him, but he does like some poems, mostly ones from Edgar Allan Poe. (yet he does have a habit of disparaging the poor guy occasionally when he's in an asshole-y mood, poking fun at how 'depressed' his written pieces are)
billy has so many regrets he can't even count them all. his biggest has to be what he had done to agnes, his own little sister, marking him in crimson blood and a face of a killer. he often has nightmares of her sullen frame stabbing him repeatedly in the chest, or yelling and cursing at him for what he had done to his own family. spouting out what he always seems to spout in his deranged phone calls. "filthy billy! you don't deserve to live! you should've frozen to death on those days you had nowhere to call home! filthy, disgusting billy!" and he agreed to every single word. these dreams always resulted in him waking up in a cold sweat, the tears of shame eventually beginning to fall down his cheeks after catching his breath, just to trip it up again.
this man has scars EVERYWHERE. well, maybe not every crevice, but he has at least fifty in total. burn scars and stab wounds littered his back, and the blemishes from gnawing on his skin due to anxiety covered his hands like wrapping paper. most of them were from getting stabbed by prior victims, others from accidental falls or remembrances from his childhood.
did partially well in school, didn't get to really graduate due to the massacre, but billy had much more important things to worry about than a piece of paper that read "congratulations!" and a cap. he mostly struggled a bit due to his home life and this resulted in a few minor failing grades, but I think this man had always done his best to bring them back up because he had a goal in mind (that he sadly never got to achieve).
billy doesn't like television. I don't know, he strikes me as the type of person who would just not really know any movies or TV shows at all. y'know, when Kourtney Kardashian said, "I don't watch tv"? that's billy.
lastly, he's a light sleeper. can probably hear you walking down the hallway or Claude rummaging around the attic even when he's in a dream state. it gives him a bit of comfort, also an advantage to him in case someone were to try and enter the attic entrance. saves him enough time to hide or kill that person.
remember, these are my own personal hc's and it's okay if you don't agree with them! I hope I did this right? I've never made headcanons before so. may or may not do a part 2 of more insane/movie shown billy, who knows. -cora
#black christmas#black christmas 1974#billy lenz#billy lenz 1974#billy lenz headcannons#nervous to post this 😭#my second post LMAO#doing these made me realize how little I know this man
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WIP Wednesday
Tagged by @alyxmastershipper @spotsandsocks @swiftiediaz. Thank you lovelies
Two things this evening
9-1-1 - The Letters (Buddie)
A collection of letters written by Evan Buckley in the years following his separation from Eddie Diaz. Brackets and all (for now).
To the finder of this letter,
My name is Evan Buckley. At present, I reside at [address] in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Also in residence are my wife, Lucy, and our two dogs, [name] and [name]. I would never claim to live here, for that requires living. And my heart hasn’t beat properly in ages.
I never wished to revisit these moments, nor transcribe them. However, it is at Lucy’s insistence that I am reluctantly doing so. She has this notion that it will help quell the ache, and perhaps ease the nightmares. Both the result of losing my beloved, the other half of my heart and soul.
It is of little consequence to you as the reader, I suppose, but I still feel it necessary to explain the arrangement Lucy and I have agreed upon. The conditions we choose to live with because of the circumstances we could not decide for ourselves.
After my father’s death I was forced to return home. To take my place as head of the household to provide for my mother, and sister, Maddie. I came to protect her most of all, only to discover I had lost her anyway. She only ever wished to see me happy. In pursuit of this, she married an abominable human being who shall not be named here. If I do nothing else with my remaining time on earth, it shall be to see to it his name is lost to history.
Regarding the matter of Lucy. We met shortly after my return, during an outing with my mother. It was a festival in the park with musicians and acrobats. The sort of thing where young men court young ladies, and mothers bring their unmarried children to parade them about. Clearly I was the latter. Of every lady Mother attempted to force me to become smitten by (or as she later put it, be tolerant of) I was most intrigued by the fair-haired woman operating the flower cart. We did not speak that day, not in words, only in exchanged glances. For reasons I did not yet know, I already understood she would be vital for me and I for her.
It would be three more weeks, and dozens more disappointed potential wives, before we held a formal conversation. Mother had, of course, observed the shared looks I was attempting to hide less and less. She voiced her distaste for the situation immediately, informing me I must focus my efforts on finding a wife, despite my insistence that I did not see the purpose. Under the ruse of purchasing a bloom for the latest disappointment-to-be, I paid a visit to Lucy’s cart. It was perhaps not the most well thought out plan, but it was the one I needed most to work.
I stated my name and title, declared I had no debts nor lovers or gambling afflictions and, if she could declare the same, I wished to marry her. Lucy promptly rejected my offer, telling me to return when I was a paying customer and not a deceptive suitor.
Schitt's Creek - Ch 2 of I know all your secrets
David paces the length of the sitting room, wired and anxious. The penthouse, measuring however many thousands of square feet, is still too small. He’s already shed his jacket, hanging it carefully in the walk-in closet. He’s not a monster, after all. But it does little to ease the tension that continues building under his skin, making him spark with need. Eager to get his hands on Patrick again.
Patrick’s ragged breathing echoes in his mind, the way he writhed under David’s touch, so desperate for release he was practically begging.
David won’t be alone for long. Patrick has always come, will always. David knows this, and it terrifies him. Yet, with every minute that passes, every errant sound that makes him turn toward the door, his doubts grow louder.
Agent Brewer was supposed to be a personal conquest, a challenge. A one time experience. There was no room for a ‘next time’. David should have known better. From the first time he noticed Patrick in Monsanto he wanted him. He took one look at the cocky, competent sonofabitch – wearing his stupid midrange denim and braided belt – and wanted to take him apart. To ruin him.
He finally got his chance at their third encounter in Vienna. There was no bed, not so much as a fancy, expensive chaise lounge. Only the two of them, hidden in the shadows of Neptune’s Fountain. Not how David envisioned it, but he wouldn’t exactly call getting buttoned-up Agent Brewer off against ancient architecture a loss. Especially not when he sought David out the following evening and let himself be reduced to a whimpering mess, barely capable of stringing two syllables together.
It's late, but I'll tag: @shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @stereopticons @blackandwhiteandrose @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @fatedbuddie @buddierights @alysiswriting @apothecarose @rmd-writes @vanillahigh00 @jesuisici33 and my love @lizzie-bennetdarcy
#wip wednesday#hippo writes#buddie fic#sc fic#i cannot make up my mind today#fic: you’re where i wanna go
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andd all the notes for claudine under the cut!! same thing as last post, sorry if its bad i'm. so fucking eepy etc etc. NO moodboard for this bitch i already made one for her
claudine boutet
- confident, polite, showoff, theatrical, charismatic, witty, collected and hard to upset, a little snobby, jovial and upbeat
- formerly a street performer solely for the purpose of raising money for her poor family. slowly began to enjoy the attention it bought her and upping the ante of her shows in turn. was eventually offered work at a circus and began to work there as an acrobat in training. would sometimes stop to visit family and offer them around half of her earnings
- a vampire had snuck into the circus one day, killed the ringmaster, bit claudine (who had tried to stop them) and fled. she then took on the title of "ringmaster" to avenge the previous one and continue the circus in their honor. wishes to create "the best show on earth" for both the attention it'll bring, the honor it'll bestow upon the circus and the possibility of showing humans that not all vampires are inherently bad for a chance of being allowed back into society.
likes & hobbies
- the arts, black & white movies, swing, opera, ragtime, musicals and concerts, museums, cabaret, hollywood (or how its depicted in movies, anyway)
- reading: a good time waster and may provide inspiration for her show. greatly prefers reading in french and enjoys mystery and drama.
- practicing: greatly enjoys practicing her makeup, musical skills and acrobatics
- stealing: steals a variety of things from raw meat (generally anything with blood in it), clothing, mirrors, props, etc etc. ranges from full on heists to breaking and entering or just shoplifting
- collecting: enjoys collecting antiques. reminds her of when she was a human.
dislikes
- the closed-minded, the cowardly and the selfish. those who don't contribute to society and leech on others
- bad tastes in fashion, music and art
- people with no sense of humor
- lack of cleanliness or regard for appearance
- being embarrassed, being surpassed in terms of talent
- vampires who believe they are better than humans, humans who believe they are better than vampires
notes
- has a very "for the greater good" focused mindset. she's fine with committing certain crimes as long as they'll be beneficial to everyone in the long run. she views her circus as that, hence why she's willing to do so much for it
- lives in a traveling caravan she took from the circus. hangs in the outskirts of towns or in forests and regularly moves from place to place to avoid detection
- her home is technically the old, abandoned circus. she performs there and regularly checks in to make sure no one has broken in while she was gone
- her skill with disguises allows for her to blend into crowds with ease. she'll do this just to attend certain events she couldn't see otherwise, like concerts and such. she fits in particularly well at parties since she's great at convincing others that the fangs are part of her costume
- dropped out of school early to focus on training
- uses the little money she finds to support local artists
- doesn't really like feeding off of people. mostly because she doesn't like how barbaric and violent she has to be
- LOVES leaving hints and traces of her existence around for people to find, like ominous letters detailing her arrival or hand-made fliers for a circus with no set date.
- never targets the poor when she steals
- her signature instrument is the accordion and she'll carry it with her into fights
combat
- does NOT fight to kill under most circumstances. rather, she fights to put on a good show, and she'll intentionally drag the fight out and allow her opponent to land hits whenever it fits
- when she does fight to kill it's mainly to feed. even then, she offers a quick and painless death through whatever means are available
- dabbles in both long-range and short-ranged attacks. has a variety of weapons (and comedic props, like those "bang" flag guns) at her disposal
- focuses on avoiding attacks rather than engaging in battle. enjoys making her opponents frustrated with her games and antics
abilities, skills & weaknesses
- high speed and stamina
- low awareness of surroundings; too busy acting
- great reflexes when she does notice
- disguise: using makeup and wigs, she's very talented at disguising herself as someone else entirely
- acrobatics: decades of training in acrobatics and plenty more to perfect her skills
socializing & relationships
- very talkative, enjoys the company of others greatly
- talks in a near-constant speaking voice; loudly and clearly. may not recognize when she's being too loud
- exaggerated, wide movements. talks with her hands
- humbly brags whenever the conversation allows her to
- offers to do other's makeup or to help with an outfit
- gets along best with people who are good listeners
possible ideas
- draws a mustache on her makeup to resemble the former ringleader more
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A big collection of art I’ve done for my BNHA star wars AU! I wrote up a lot of this stuff and drew it ages ago, but never got around to posting it
Figured I might as well seeing as I keep forgetting lol, also I’m going to make another post because apparently tumblr has a images-per-post limit lol rip
In order!
Grey Jedi Sentinel Master Aizawa! He adopts most of the “ducklings”, ie the kiddos, at his hideout after the Kamino disaster where Emperor All for One kills Grandmaster All Might (see this post) and becomes the Emperor. He’s been only tangentially part of the Jedi order for ages, and the hideout is an ancient former Sith temple, which is where he got the crystal forge he used to make his second lightsaber (and why it’s red.) He’s also not-married to Present Mic, who’s a former member of a non-Jedi force using order who left to be by Aizawa’s side after serious rifts in the order in question. Jirou is also a learner under Mic, and came with him--the other order’s equivalent of a Padawan (she’s not pictured here, I haven’t drawn all the ducklings). Their order uses guns and Force control to create sonic attacks and shields by manipulating the air itself.
Emperor All for One has the ability to consume and steal the Force power and connection of Force-users he kills, and also claims their lightsabers for his own. His collection is so mighty and extensive that he can shatter the Force to his will almost unstoppably...but the wounds he suffered from Grandmaster All Might’s last stand prevent him from doing much fighting with his physical body--he instead relies on force-throwing his lightsaber collection around, which is generally just as terrifyingly effective.
Harmonizer Hawks is Tokoyami’s teacher, and comes from another non-Jedi force using order who believe in the total separation of their light and dark force halves, using them entirely separately and in parallel. Harmonizer is the Master-equivalent title, and Tokoyami is a Learner, who still doesn’t fully control his dark and light sides. They traditionally use double-lightsabers, as they are technically an ancient offshoot of the Jedi order.
Knight Bakugou lost his master, Master Jeanist, in the Kamino disaster, and flourished under the much more Grey teachings of Master Aizawa. He uses Force pushes to great effect, and has an almost reversed dynamic with Deku--Grandmaster All Might chose Deku, and Bakugou has spent his training struggling upstream against the well-meaning but ultimately unfitting teachings of Master Jeanist.
Deku has inherited One for All, the spirits of every Jedi Grandmaster of ages past, and can bend the Force to earthshaking effect...when he succeeds at mastering the power. But All Might couldn’t finish teaching him before he had to sacrifice himself, and Aizawa doesn’t know how One for All works...so it’s up to him to figure it out and give people the hope he wants to grant.
Already covered Tokoyami earlier lol
Koda was a padawan under Master Wash, who died protecting him from Sith Inquisitors before Aizawa and co managed to rescue Koda himself. His master visits him as a ghost, one with the Force, but Koda still carries a great deal of guilt inside his heart.
Kirishima was a padawan under Master Crust before the Kamino disaster claimed his Master’s life and forced him to take refuge with the rest of the ducklings with Aizawa. His species has extraordinarily tough skin (technically he’s a different phenotype of Koda’s species! related, but distinct)
Padawan Uraraka is very skilled at Ataru style combat and is acrobatic as hell, and one of the best fighters of the Ducklings. She’s also a close friend to Deku
Snipe is a Mandalorian, and Pony is his foundling! He realizes after serious events that Pony is force-sensitive, and after killing multiple inquisitors because they sensed Pony’s force power, he realizes she needs a teacher who can teach her things that he can’t. So eventually both of them end up joining the duckling crew--Snipe is in fact the one who coins the nickname ducklings, referring to all the kids as Aizawa’s little ducklings following after him. Get one more responsible adult!
There are a number more characters, but I either haven’t drawn them or am going to elaborate in another post due to the image limit lol
#nyansense speaks#nyansense art#star wars au#star wars#bnha#bnha au#boku no hero academia#boku no hero au#my hero academia#my hero au#aizawa shouta#all for one#hawks#bakugou katsuki#midoriya izuku#tokoyami fumikage#kouda kouji#kirishima eijirou#uraraka ochako#snipe#tsunotori pony
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