im-here-and-im-confused

[im-here-and-im-confused]

this one is for @somemadart. thank you for the idea 🫶 word count: 1,837

John knew he looked like shit.

There were a lot of times when he’d come back from a mission and Bob would play the brat. He’d glance over his shoulder but just kept on reading his book as he nonchalantly claimed he didn’t miss John at all.

But, every now and then, Bob wouldn’t say anything. He’d take one look at John when he walked in the door, set his book down on the table, and walk over to wrap him in the world’s most comforting embrace.

John was sure, with the amount of blood and mud caked on his face, it would be one of those days, and he was right. John slid his arms around Bob’s back, pressed his nose into the crook of Bob’s neck and thanked fuck that he made it back to his boyfriend in one piece.

Bob’s fingers squeezed the back of John’s shoulders only to release when John winced and inhaled sharply. He shifted his hands to John’s biceps, made him spin around without a word. John couldn’t see the gash on his back, but he knew that it was big. The tear in his suit stretched from the middle of his shoulder to the top of his ribs.

“Sit down,” said Bob, already pushing John toward the bed. “I’ll get the kit.”

John never asked Bob to stitch up his wounds, he just did it. It started when he caught John stitching up his leg and offered to help, confessed he had experience from when his parents refused to take him to the hospital and when he grew up and refused to go himself.

He sat on the edge of the bed in silence while Bob found the first-aid kit. Bob climbed on the bed behind him, gently peeled the fabric off John's torso and left it in a pile around his waist. Suddenly, Bob’s left arm slid around the front of John’s chest, squeezed his skin as he rested his forehead against the back of John’s neck.

Bob stayed there for a few seconds before he pulled away and reached into the first-aid kit. The items rustled for a moment and then they stilled, followed by the sound of liquid sloshing against a cloth. John braced himself for the impact.

The soapy water burned like hell, but he refused to show it until Bob slid his left hand around to John’s face. He set it on John’s right cheek, stroked his beard gently as he pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Between that and Bob’s knees tucked against his hips, he forgot about how much pain he was in.

He focused on the feeling of Bob’s lips and his fingers until his wound was clean. Until Bob took his hands and the cloth away and he was left with only lingering pain. Bob shifted behind him, and John glanced over his shoulder to see him prepping the needle and suture thread.

John tried not to let his thoughts get the better of him as they sat in silence, as Bob pierced the needle through his skin the first time. His fingers were too delicate, too kind, and John couldn’t shake the feeling he didn’t deserve them.

“I killed someone today,” he said suddenly. Bob froze for a painfully long second and John’s intrusive thoughts got the better of him. It was a miracle he was able to keep his tone level when he added, “Does that bother you?”

Bob hesitated, looped the thread through his skin again. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I trust you. You wouldn’t do it without a good reason.”

Good reasons were subjective. One could argue that it was a good reason, that the man had a gun pointed at Ava and the odds of him making the shot were high. One could also argue that the man was only hired help; he wasn’t evil, he was just so desperate that he took the wrong job.

Bob pressed another cloth against John’s open wound, and the fabric quickly soaked with blood. John sniffed as a tear rolled down his blank face, creating a line in the mixture of sweat, mud, and blood he hoped was mostly his.

“I think I’m a really shitty person,” John confessed. Bob lowered the cloth from his back, paused for a second before he resumed stitching without a word. Sometimes, when Bob vented, John just let him talk. Maybe Bob was doing the same. “I thought I was getting better for a while but maybe I’m still just the same piece of shit.”

All he wanted was to do better. He didn’t need to redeem himself in front of the world, and he didn’t think that he could. But he needed to redeem himself in his own eyes, for his own mental health. John took a slow, deep breath as Bob continued his work. He did two more loops before he pressed the cloth back against John’s skin.

“Do you remember the first time we were alone together?”

It took him a second, admittedly. “When I helped you find a bathroom after the press conference?”

“Yeah.” Bob removed the cloth for a second then pressed it down harder. He kissed the back of John’s left shoulder when he inhaled sharply. “I was in there way longer than it reasonably took to piss so you knocked on the door and asked if I was all right.”

“You didn’t answer so I came in,” said John softly. He twisted his hands in his lap, picked at the mud caked under his nails. “You were having a panic attack.”

“It freaked me out more because I thought you were a dick. I thought you were going to— I don’t know. Not yell at me, but— You got on your knees on that nasty fucking floor, and you grabbed my hands, and you walked me through the five senses. Do you remember that?”

“I remember doing it, but I feel like you want me to say a specific detail and I don’t…”

Bob set his chin on John’s left shoulder, his right hand holding the cloth in place as his left reached up to stroke John’s cheek. “You asked me to find something I could see. I said I saw you. I think that was the first time I really did.”

“Well, that doesn’t help me,” John started, “because you saw me in the vault and at the press conference before that.”

“No, John, I saw you. Who you really are. Not just an asshole or a mercenary or some arrogant jock—”

“Thanks.”

“—but you. How you care about people. You put on this act so people think you’re just some stupid jerk but you’re not. You’re a protector. Everything you do is because you want to help people. I beat the shit out of you and tried to destroy Manhattan, and an hour later you held my hands like I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If it helps,” said John, suddenly unsure what to say or do, “I was really uncomfortable.”

“But that’s the point. You were uncomfortable and out of your element and you barely knew me for two days and you still did everything you could to help me.” Bob nudged John’s face toward him, leaned their foreheads against each other. “I know that whatever you did, you did it because you believed you were helping.”

“Ava.” His voice cracked. He started to reach his right hand toward Bob, but Bob gently pushed him back, stopped him from stretching his injured shoulder. He grabbed Bob’s knee with his left hand instead. “He had a gun on Ava, and she wasn’t— she couldn’t— he was going to pull the trigger. I didn’t even— I didn’t even think, I just—”

“Does she know you did that for her?” John shook his head. “Maybe you should tell her. It might help if you know what she thinks.”

“What do you think?”

Bob slid his hand from John’s cheek to the back of his head, looked directly into his eyes. He stared at him for a second before he pulled their lips together. It was soft, gentle, sweet. John felt bad that his bottom lip was split, that his beard was full of dust, but Bob acted like he didn’t taste it at all.

“I think you’re trying,” said Bob, “and I think I’m proud of you, and I think I love you, and I think you need to stop moving so I can finish your stitches.”

It took everything in his power to not shed a second tear. John still didn’t feel like a good person, didn’t feel like he deserved Bob’s love, but it didn’t matter because he had it. He had it and he trusted Bob. If Bob believed he was a good person, then there was no way he could be completely wrong.

“It hurts,” John grumbled. He grabbed Bob’s face and pressed a kiss to his forehead before he slid back behind John.

“Well, I’m sticking a needle in your skin.” Bob took the cloth off his back and repositioned the needle. “What did you think I was going to do, lick you back together?”

“Wouldn’t mind that.” Without warning, Bob leaned forward and licked the back of John’s ear without regard for his sweat. John flushed pink and swatted him away. “Not like that.”

“You know you love it.”

“I do,” and John knew his tone was too serious because Bob paused for just a second between stitches. “I love you.”

“I know that tone,” said Bob, focused on his fingers, “but I can’t kiss you again right now.”

“Kiss me again when you’re done, then.”

“No, we’re taking a shower after this.”

John squeezed Bob’s knee. “‘We?’”

“I don’t mean like—” He cut himself off, waited until he finished pulling the thread through John’s skin before he continued. “I don’t trust you with your stitches.”

“Mm.” It made sense. He’d fucked up Bob’s stitches before. John tickled Bob’s knee, rubbed circles into it with his thumb. “But now I’m thinking of you in the shower.”

Bob chuckled under his breath. His smile was audible behind his words. “Maybe if you promise to be gentle.”

“Since when do you like it gentle?”

“Since you have a six-inch gash in your back. Excuse me for being more concerned than horny.”

“You know I’m between your legs right now.” The way Bob choked on his amused snort said that it had not, in fact, occurred to him that John could feel between his legs. John found it cute, in a way, that the revelation did not cause him to move. “You blushing back there, Bobby?”

Bob laughed; a soft, beautiful sound. “Shut up and let me focus.”

John closed his eyes, forced himself to keep silent as Bob finished his stitches and wrapped him in a gentle hug. He would be okay, he decided, so long as he always had Bob to come home to.

[im-here-and-im-confused]

watched the movie.. feeling very hopium..

[im-here-and-im-confused]

the Ice War on Europa...

[im-here-and-im-confused]

Ghost’s first time at the MacTavish house (+Soap’s niece)

[im-here-and-im-confused]

Just putting in out there what if one day John and bob are asleep together and the void comes out to play whilst bobs having a nightmare and takes over johns dreams but instead of reliving the murder or his kid or lemar he’s faced with the tragic death of his mother that he never processed as a child, just pushed through and it takes him several weeks to face bob again all whilst bob won’t talk to anyone but yelena ( who knows about the void just not John’s mum but then again bob doesn’t even know that because johns never mentioned it ) and the rest of the team is 1 confused 2 angry at John and 3 confused on why Yelenas low-key defending him, just saying

[im-here-and-im-confused]

*after picking up kid!Roach*

Graves: Night, boys. Don't let the bed bugs bite

Teen!Ghost: WELL I HOPE THEY ALL BITE YOU

Teen!Gaz: *snorts*

Graves: ... an interesting threat, I'll make a note of it to your father

[im-here-and-im-confused]

put your own age in the tags for context if you like!

[im-here-and-im-confused]

Play stupid games win stupid prizes

[im-here-and-im-confused]

Has anyone figured out what’s so viscerally wrong with this woman yet

[im-here-and-im-confused]

I wanna see silco’s muscular anatomy with his time as a miner but we’ve never seen him shirtless. Fortiche, please let me nerd out using my powerlifting background. It’s for scientific purposes please. I need to see his traps, lats, hammies, and obliques.

His delts aren’t as developed compared to vander or jayce, but that tracks. His physique gives off a functional under-fed kind of strength.

Mining is brutal and repetitive labor, with hours of physical exertion every day. And without enough calories, especially protein, you don’t bulk up easily. Strength can still build, just not in mass. More in density and definition.

Silco likely has more fast-twitch muscle fibers, which are built for explosive movement like swinging and lifting. A wiry build like that is often from fast-twitch fibers being used frequently but not given enough calories or recovery to grow. They stay lean but powerful.

young silco malnourished twink with lean frame and explosive strength who never eats enough to bulk and has insomnia my beloved

[im-here-and-im-confused]

they just start doing this shit man

[im-here-and-im-confused]

Does anyone else change their profile picture on one thing and then change it everywhere else too? or is it just me? Its probably just me

anyway!!!! I change my pfp :D

(under the cut)

The pfp in question ✨✨

[im-here-and-im-confused]

family 💤

[im-here-and-im-confused]

Wanted to draw Silco as if Jinx had drawn him. She loves her dad :)

[im-here-and-im-confused]

Какой-то инцидент в шахте.

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Lazy attempt

[im-here-and-im-confused]

vander fumbled hard like imagine having a gorgeous anarchist boyfriend with a straight up sculpted nose and a crazy haircut and then fumbling him so hard he gets a villain arc