#‘i was so taken aback’ so was i and apparently i fuckin reblogged it

[bassproshopspyramid]

sometimes i will get on tumblr and be so tired my eyes are glazing over and i will reblog things that i read like 3 words from and then i get a message like hey dude quick question whats with that kink post you reblogged and im like im gonna be real with you homie i saw some of the first line and thought it was about dogs

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: August

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: July

Note: I’ve had a super busy day, but I wanted to get this posted so I edited it really quickly. Please forgive me if there’s any little mistakes!

Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented! Hearing your thoughts really makes my day!

-----

August 2020

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who actually enjoys moving - especially if that move involves a three year old who feels the need to be very involved in the packing, but is also incredibly easily distracted. And even more so when that child's father is almost just as distractible and, despite his insistence that he'd stay focused, does more to hinder the whole operation than help.

That was the situation that I found myself in at the end of the first summer of the pandemic because we were moving in with Chris.

While I was hesitant at first, it made the most sense and neither Grayson nor I were particularly eager to return to our tiny little apartment. I still felt that it was pretty early in our relationship for us to be living together, but we'd survived so far and moving back seemed like it would do more harm than good. Grayson had settled in nicely at Chris' house and another big change - like making him go back to having two homes - seemed like it would be very disruptive.

But moving came with it's own challenges.

After our conversation a few months earlier, Chris had told all of his most trusted friends about our change in relationship status. That came in handy as a few of his buddies - who had trucks - had volunteered to help us move things the last weekend of August, but packing had me feeling overwhelmed. I'd managed to give most of the furniture away - between our friends and Chris' family - but we still had way too much stuff.

It was on that Saturday morning that I found myself sitting in the middle of Grayson's old bedroom almost in tears. I'd packed up his mountain of toys the night before only to find Chris and Grayson unpacking several boxes the next morning while I was trying to finish up in the living room. Apparently, Grayson had wanted a certain toy that I'd already packed and instead of telling him to wait because he had several other things to play with that weren't boxed up, Chris helped him look for it.

He was trying to be helpful, thinking that repacking a few things would be easier to deal with than a meltdown from Grayson, but it had been a long, tiring week as I tried to get everything organized and their actions almost pushed me to my breaking point. I scolded them both and banished them to the little playground just outside the building while I set to work cleaning up their mess.

Almost twenty minutes later, I heard a knock on the front door as it creaked open. I poked my head out of the room I was in - ready to send the boys straight back outside - only to see Chris' oldest and closest friend, Tara. She was masked up for safety and knowing how sweet and helpful she was, she was a refreshing sight. I'd met her several times, mostly when Grayson was a baby and I lived with Chris, and she'd been a calming and encouraging presence back then so I was definitely relieved to see her during another time of high stress.

"Hey," I smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought supplies," she informed me, holding up a tray of iced coffees. "Chris called and said that he thought you could use some help."

"You're a lifesaver," I groaned with pleasure as she put down the tray and handed me one of the drinks. "I need this, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," she returned my smile. "How's the packing going?"

"Not bad now that the boys are outside," I laughed. "It's pretty much all done, I think. You never realize how much junk you have until you have to pack it all up."

"Oh my god, I know. We moved last year and it felt like the piles of things we had to take was never ending."

"It's crazy," I agreed. "Especially with all Gray's stuff. I thought we did a good job of not spoiling him, but he has an insane amount of toys."

"I can imagine," she cringed. "But I have no plans all day so just tell me what you need help with and I'm all yours."

I thought for a moment as I sipped the coffee she'd brought me until I had an idea.

"Actually..." I started, feeling a bit sheepish. "Would you be willing to take Grayson for a bit? I know it's a big ask, especially while he's so excited, so feel free to say no."

"Are you kidding? I'd love to take him!"

I let out a breath of relief as I felt my body relax.

"Thank you so much. I really need Chris to help me carry these boxes and he's been so preoccupied with Grayson that he's been no use at all," I explained. "It's a big change and he's worried about him being freaked out by it all, which I totally get, but I need him to focus a bit too."

Tara laughed and shook her head.

"I get it, don't worry. I know what he can be like," she assured me. "I'll go down and get Gray now and send Chris up here."

"Thank you. You're the best, Tara."

She waved off my gratitude and insisted it was no problem before leaving me to turn my attention back to what I'd been doing before she arrived.

-

Once Grayson was in the safe care of Tara, Chris was much more useful. We were packing things with impressive speed and when it was almost time for his friends to show up with their trucks, we started moving things down to the lobby of the building to make the loading process quicker.

I was a tad nervous about the whole situation as I hadn't spent much time with most of Chris' friends and I didn't really know what they thought of me. I hoped they'd be understanding of our situation and give me a chance, but if he really had been pining away for me all these years - thinking that I didn't want to be with him - I worried that they'd think I was selfish and heartless.

Those worries, combined with my stress about getting everything organized, had me still feeling rather on edge. It didn't help that the creepy maintenance man that I'd warned Chris about was watching us like a hawk. I could feel his eyes on me every time I stepped foot in the lobby and the sensation made my skin crawl. I just wanted to get it all done and over with as fast as possible so we could get away from him, but Chris had clearly noticed him too and I could feel his annoyance rising as well.

He held it together until our last trip down when our spectator really crossed a line. I was bending over to place some boxes on the ground when I could have sworn I heard a groan of pleasure from behind me. I snapped back up to standing and looked over my shoulder to see the man with a smirk on his face and his eyes fixed on me. It made my stomach churn, but Chris was immediately by my side, his arm sliding around my waist. Before I could even question what he was doing, he pulled down his mask and then my own, cupped my jaw with his hand and pulled me in for a kiss.

It was a rather passionate embrace and I was surprised as he usually wasn't one for public displays of affection. Then it hit me why he was doing it and I felt a flash of annoyance run through me as he pulled away. There was a smirk on his face as he rested his forehead against mine, but all I could muster was a frown.

"Do you think he got the hint?"

I scoffed at his question.

"I think he got enough pictures to pay his bills for the next few months," I huffed, keeping my voice low so we wouldn't be overheard. "Are you done marking your territory now?"

Chris looked taken aback by my harsh tone and I sighed as I slipped out of his grasp and headed to the door. I wanted to see if his friends had arrived yet and get away from the creep, but Chris followed and wasn't prepared to let our conversation drop.

"What, so I'm not allowed to kiss you in public in case someone sees?" He asked once we got outside, his own annoyance coming through. "I thought you didn't care if people found out about us?"

I stopped walking and spun around to face him.

"I don't care," I snapped. "But I'd rather not give some pervert the chance to profit off of us just to save your wounded pride."

Even with his mask pulled back up, I could see Chris' jaw clench with frustration.

"He was being disrespectful. I was standing right there and he moans while staring at your ass? C'mon, he's a fuckin' asshole."

Another flare of anger washed over me as I fought to keep myself calm enough to explain to him why what he'd just said was almost as frustrating as the actions of the man who'd been ogling me.

"He was being disrespectful," I agreed, my voice steady despite my rising temper. "But to me, not to you! It doesn't matter if I have a boyfriend or not, he shouldn't behave like that towards any woman! I don't deserve to be respected because of you, I deserve to be respected because I'm a human being who has a right to feel safe in their own apartment building."

Chris' shoulders dropped as he took in my words and visibly calmed down, but I was still feeling wound up.

"Shit, Winnie, you're right," he relented. "I don't want anyone to treat you like that ever, not just because you're my girlfriend. It just pissed me off that he had the balls to do that even in front of me."

"So kissing me like that to send him a message was the best solution you could think of? Like, 'don't touch this one, she's mine'. It made me feel gross. I don't need you claiming me in public to scare off creeps, thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that," Chris insisted, looking slightly wounded by my scolding. "I'm sorry, I was being an idiot."

"Okay," I shrugged, somewhat blowing off his apology. "We should go to the parking lot. Your friends might be here."

"Are we good, Win?" He asked, clearly not as eager to let the subject drop. "I want to make this right if you're upset..."

"I'm fine," I sighed, knowing that was only half true. It was only half his fault though, the stress of the day overall was more to blame and, at that point, I just wanted it to be over so I could have a nice big glass of wine. "Let's just go see where your friends are."

He didn't argue as I walked off and when we turned the corner into the parking lot, his friends were all there lined up in the visitor's spots. I forced a smile despite the fact that it was hidden by my mask and waved as we walked over.

"Hey!" I greeted them. "Thanks so much for doing this. We really appreciate it."

"Ah, no worries!" Jon assured me. "But, are you really sure you want to move in with this guy?"

"Yeah, we were just talking," Zach continued. "And it feels a bit Stockholm syndrome-y. He confines you to a house and suddenly you fall in love? Seems a bit suspicious."

"Wow, guys, glad you're on my side," Chris laughed. "I wouldn't have asked you to help out if I knew you'd try and change her mind!"

"We just want to make sure we're not committing any crimes here," Luke insisted. "I don't want to be an accomplice to anything and we're all scratching our heads about what she could see in you."

Chris shook his head at their teasing and I tried to push our earlier discussion from my mind as I giggled and slid my hand into his. I felt him tense up in surprise at the gesture, but he relaxed as I squeezed it and leaned against his arm.

"There's no Stockholm syndrome here," I assured them. "It just took a pandemic and the constant threat of impending doom for me to come to my senses. I'm just lucky Chris was silly enough to wait for me."

Chris chuckled and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of my head as his friends rolled their eyes.

We quickly went over the game plan for the day once the initial greeting was over and as soon as his friends turned to head towards the building, I dropped my hand from Chris'. I knew I was being petty and sulky and from the sigh that fell from Chris' lips, he did too, but I couldn't help it - I needed some space to work through my cranky mood on my own. Luckily, Chris seemed to figure that out pretty fast and left me to my brooding as we followed his friends and got to work.

-

It didn't take us as long as I expected to load all the boxes into the trucks, but that was probably the benefit to having a team of strong men helping you move. Once it was all unloaded into the spare bedroom at Chris' place where I had been sleeping at the start of the pandemic, Chris broke out a few beers for his friends and fired up the grill while we waited for Tara and Gray to arrive. It was a beautiful, warm evening and perfect for an impromptu barbecue to thank all Chris' friends and it was a great opportunity for me to bond a bit more with some of the most important people in Chris' life.

Grayson knew them all better than I did, but we had some concerns that the lack of socialization would make him nervous around the now somewhat unfamiliar faces. But he put those worries to bed almost as soon as he arrived as he was the life of the party. He was thrilled to see the three men who were sitting in the lawn chairs dotted around our yard - in an effort to keep everyone somewhat distant from each other - and the cheer they let out as soon as they saw him made me think they were just as excited. They seemed to really adore him and he thrived on the attention. It warmed my heart to see the genuine care they all had for Grayson - it was wonderful to know he had so many people in his corner - and I was relieved when that care was extended to me.

Any doubts that I'd had about them accepting me were quickly pushed from my mind as they seemed to be just as eager to get to know me as I was to get to know them. They were all lovely, kind people and I wondered why I ever expected anything else from the people in Chris' inner circle.

They left as soon as Grayson's bedtime rolled around - partially because we were all tired from our long day of moving boxes and partially because we all knew there was no way that Gray was going to agree to go to bed while the party was still going. Once they were gone, he demanded Chris tuck him in so I tidied up in the kitchen while he handled bedtime.

As soon as I'd finished putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher, I felt his arms around my waist.

"Hey," he whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Thanks for cleaning up."

"You don't need to thank me," I smiled, turning in his arms so we were face to face. "It's my house to keep clean too now, even if that's still weird to think about."

"Weird in a good way?"

"Definitely," I nodded. "It's felt like home here for a while now. It would have been awful to go back to that little apartment."

"It would have been weird for me too," Chris agreed. "I can't imagine being in this big house without you guys anymore."

"You'd have to move all your friends in," I teased, using it as a segue. "Who, by the way, are all very nice."

"Yeah?" Chris grinned. "You think so?"

"I do. I was a bit nervous about it," I admitted. "In case they resented me for how our relationship unfolded, but they're great."

"They never resented you at all," Chris chuckled. "Pretty much everyone who knows about our first night together was on your side about that and they've been pushing me to make a move ever since."

"Well, that's good to know."

Chris nodded and continued.

"They all really like you. Jon gave me clear instructions to not fuck it up."

I laughed at that, but felt a wave of relief.

"I appreciate their support."

"Well, you definitely have it."

Chris leaned down to press his lips against mine and I melted into his body, feeling the exhaustion from the stress of the day start to hit me. We stayed like that, just holding each other for a few minutes until Chris broke the silence around us.

"Can we talk about earlier?"

My stomach churned with embarrassment at the memory, but I nodded.

"Of course, we can. I'll start by saying that I'm sorry."

Chris leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at me with his confusion written all over his face.

"You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" He asked. "I brought it up so that I could apologize to you."

"You don't need to," I assured him. "I get why you did what you did. I just don't deal with stress very well and the whole day was overwhelming me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You don't deal with stress very well? I never would have known!" His words were laced with sarcasm as he smiled down at me and I laughed, gently smacking his chest in protest. "But seriously, I deserved a good scolding. You were absolutely right with what you said, I shouldn't have handled the situation like that."

"I appreciate that you can see where I was coming from," I sighed. "But there is no perfect way to handle a situation like that, really. It's best just to ignore it, but then it feels like you're letting the gross guy win."

"Well, if we're ever in a situation like that again, I'll follow your lead," he insisted. "But I can't say that I'll just ignore it. I might just punch the guy out for being a creep."

I laughed again before shaking my head.

"And then whoever is watching will have a different kind of picture to sell to the trashy magazines."

Chris cringed at that comment.

"I'm sorry. Do you really think he took pictures?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But if he recognized you then I'd be surprised if he didn't."

Chris nodded, clearly getting lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again.

"And you really don't care if proof gets out that we're together?"

"I don't," I insisted. "I don't like the idea of some pervert making money off of us, but I don't care if people know we're together. It might be good for people to get used to the idea now, when we're hiding at home all the time anyway. By the time we can go outside again, no one will care enough to take pictures of us."

"That might be wishful thinking," Chris smiled. "But I'll do my best to keep you out of the spotlight."

I matched his smile and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

As I predicted, the creepy maintenance man did take pictures of us and he did sell them to some trashy magazine. The internet was horrified, the hearts of fangirls all over the world were broken and I was called every cruel name under the sun. There were rumours that I trapped him with another baby and rumours that I was a gold digger - just using Chris for his money so I didn't have to work during the pandemic. The general reception to the forced confirmation of our relationship was pretty abysmal, but nothing worse than we expected and at the end of the day we didn't care.

All the people who truly cared about us were happy for us and that was the most important thing.

-

September

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

[classycadaver]

A side blog for my main classycorpse. I'm posting any future art + writing here just cause I like making things difficult for myself. Anyways- heres a oneshot esc thing I wrote for a Post-Apocalypse esc au based around Fallout and Metro Exodus. I dont think I'll ever finish it but I was fairly proud of how the first chapter came out so I'm sharing it.

The original title for this work was "Pieces of The People We Love " and was going to follow the main plot of the founding of L'manburg up until it went boom, but through a Post Apocalyptic lense.

Reblogging is much appreciated and encouraged!

•○●○•

" Watch out for that branch. " 

    

" What bra- OH FUCK!" 

    

    Wilbur snorts at the explosive cursing behind him, smirking as he stops and turns toward Tommy. The young teen was hunched over, rubbing at his face all the while letting out a litany of curses. 

    

    " Your just a grade a fuckin' comedian, aren't ya Wilbur? '' Tommy spats venomously, glaring up at his brother. Wilbur chuckles, a genuine smile splitting across his face as he rolls his eyes. " Do you think it's funny? Trying to blind your poor, helpless, younger brother in such dire times?" Tommy adds. Wilbur notes the red line that streaks across Tommy's nose and cheek, presumably where the branch had struck him; Wilbur shakes his head as his younger brother continues to air his grievances, rolling his eyes at Tommy's overreaction. 

    

    " Well, I did warn you. Not my fault you can't follow simple commands. '' Wilbur humms back in a matter-of-factly tone. " And good job with the big words Tommy, I didn't know your vocabulary had expanded so much. Techno would be proud. " 

    

    Wilbur is already turning around, walking further along the path the two were currently traversing. Tommy fumbles with himself, trying to think of a response as he hurries after Wilbur. Tommy has to lengthen his gate to match Wilburs pace, almost fast walking to keep up with the taller man. 

    

    " I- well-.... whatever, you're a jerk, I don't have to explain myself to you. " Tommy hisses, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.  " Plus- dire isn't a big word. Anyone can say dire, bitch. " The blonde added hotly. 

     " Whatever you say, Tommy. " Wilbur chuckles, waving off his younger brother. Tommy gapes at him, taken aback at being dismissed so swiftly.  

    " Did you just wake up on the ' let's bully Tommy today' side of the bed this morning? Cause you're being a pretty big dick, Wil, not gonna lie. " Tommy grumbles, glaring holes into the back of Wilbur's head. Wil simply shrugs, letting out an exasperated noise that indicated he was clueless towards Tommy's accusations. " I have no idea what youre talking about,Toms. " Wilbur hums. " Someones just extra sensitive today it seems. " 

     Wilbur cackles when Tommy punches him in the side, a string of angry curses leaving the teens mouth. The punch had no real anger or malice behind it, but the younger boy's bony knuckles dug into Wilburs side almost painfully, leaving a sting where Tommy's fist had struck Wil's side. The taller of the two let's out a huff, a shaky, wheezing, laughter following it. 

    " This is older sibling abuse-!" Wilbur laughs. The darker haired man dodges another swing aimed toward his arm, he catches Tommy's fist in the air. Wilbur is quick to spin the agitated teenager away from him, snorting humorously as Tommy almost loses his footing. Tommy desperately tries to catch his balance less he falls head over heels into the dirt road. 

     " Fockin- What the hell do you call that, then?" Tommy yells back at Wilbur, gesturing to the open space around them. " 'Older Sibling abuse' my ass!" The blonde growls, throwing his hands in the air. Tommy stands his ground, arms crossed over his chest as he stares Wilbur down with narrowed eyes. 

    " I demand an apology. " Tommy practically growls in a haughty tone. 

    " A- you can't be serious?" Wilbur stops in his tracks, looking at Tommy with a exspression that screams 'your bullshiting me, right?'. " You started it!" Wilbur accuses, letting out an airy laugh of disbelief.  " You want me to apologize for defending myself against such a brutal attack?" 

     Tommy's gaze seemingly hardens at Wilbur's words. His brow furrows and his mouth sets into a deep frown. Wilbur finds the look downright adorable. It sparks a small nostalgic memory for wilbur, reminding him of the earlier days with his brother- when Tommy used to pout whenever things didn't go his way. Although it seems like not much has changed over the years. 

Wilbur lets out a long, drawn out sigh; a hand flies to his face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. " Fine. " Wilbur knew that Tommy wouldn't let something as simple as this go so fast, it was best to just apologize and get it over with. Internally, Wilbur cheers himself on by being such a good older sibling. 

    " Tommy I'm sorry-" Tommy looks at Wilbur triumphantly, a smirk already replacing his frown. Wilbur suddenly narrows his eyes behind his glasses, " I'm sorry for defending myself against a rather vicious attack. " He finishes. Wilbur mirrors Tommy's fading smirk as he turns away, suddenly dismissing the teen with a simple wave of his hand. Still a totally honorable older sibling thing to do. 

     " Asshole!"

     Wilbur snickers, shoving his hands into his pockets as he hears Tommy's encroaching footsteps. 

     " You think you're so-" 

     " About a mile up this road and We'll reach Essmpy." Wilbur interjects into Tommy's sentence, smiling softly as he watches his brother give him a death glare. There's a few beats of silence that pass between them, only the ambiance of nature filling in the gaps. The quietness seems to calm Tommy down considerably; the teen walking behind Wilbur in uncharacteristic silence. Wlibur cast a glance over his shoulder, observing Tommy with a mild sense of worry. Wil opens and closes his mouth, unable to find the words he's looking for. Eventually Wilbur lets it go, content with the silence. 

   But the quietness doesn't last long before Tommy begins to talk. " I'm not letting that go, by the way-you shit head. I'm holding that against you, until you actually apologize." The blonde declares, looking pointedly at Wilbur before looking away. Wilbur simply shrugs, deciding that there were worse fates than a brother's faux hatred. 

    A pregnant pause follows Tommys sentence, although Wilbur can tell the boy was attempting to put together another string of words. Wilbur walks patiently alongside Tommy, slowing his pace considerably." Do you think Techno will be there? Or.. or Phil?" Wilbur seems to be caught off guard by Tommy's question. The taller man's gate stutters as he tries to formulate a response. " Maybe? I don't know. '' Wilbur chokes out, furrowing his brow. " I mean-.. Techno was all the way up near Glay'seir. Doing college stuff and what not. So he's probably still up there, yea? I heard they were pretty well fortified, so Techs… okay, most likely. '' Wil blurts out, looking at the road ahead of them. His brown gaze flits over to Tommy, who had fallen back into a concerning quietness.

    The blonde simply nodded his head, looking down at the beaten dirt path below his boots, subconsciously wringing his gloved hands. He quickly pushes down his anxieties, shoving his hands to his sides as he thinks of something funny- anything to get rid of the melancholy mood.

    Tommy grunts when he smacks into Wilburs back, huffing agitatedly as he stumbles back a few feet, an insult already on the tip of his tongue. Before he can say a word, Wilbur whirls around, grabbing Tommy's hand as he starts to run the way they had just come. 

     Tommy barely has time to collect himself before he gets jerked backwards by the force of Wilburs hold on his hand. He nearly trips over his own feet in an attempt to keep up with Wilbur, the anxiety and fear building up in his chest making it even harder to focus on where he's running. 

     In another quick motion, they stop. Wilbur ducks past one of the shrubs lining the road, tugging Tommy in after him. Before he knows it, they're both sitting behind a tree, covered by the foliage surrounding them. Tommy scowls at the uncomfortable feeling of roots, sticks, and leaves beneath him; but he does not express his disdain for the area Wilbur chose to hide them in. 

     " What was it?" Tommy whispers, trying to peer past the tree trunk to get a glimpse of whatever Wil had seen. Tommy is immediately pulled back, a hand planted over his mouth as Wilbur shushed him. The blonde glares at Wilbur, scowling as he pushes Wils hand away from his face, grumbling angrily at his brother. 

     They wait in uncomfortable silence. Tommy listens intently for any sign of movement, but only hears the general ambiance of the forest. He lets out an exasperated sigh after what feels like ages of waiting, head thudding against the trunk of the tree before turning to Wilbur. 

     " Come on Wil, there's literally nothing out there-” Tommy's mouth snaps shut, body going completely rigid and eyes practically bulging from their sockets. Fear silences any words from escaping his mouth as he stares at the thing Wilbur had apparently seen earlier. He feels Wilbur tense next to him as the brunette moves into a crouched position, his hand clenching Tommy's  hand almost painfully. Both of their eyes are trained onto the creature just a few trees away from them, its giant grey body could clearly be made out from between the greens and browns of the forest around them.

    The lanky abomination has its flank toward them, its whip thin tail flicking back and forth as its large head hangs heavy between its bony shoulders, presumably sniffing the ground. Tommys breath catches in his throat when the creature's head suddenly snaps up; a high pitched, echoey cry leaves the animal's parted maw. The sound seeps directly into Tommys soul, his hand clenching Wilburs. 

    Wilbur glances back at Tommy taking his sights off of the creature for a moment. Tommy catches Wilburs eyes, fear very prominent in his blue gaze. Wil takes another quick look toward the creature before mouthing the words ‘ back to the road.’ at Tommy. The blonde furrows his brows in confusion. Back to the road? Surely that thing would hear them going through the underbrush? Was Wilbur nuts? 

    Tommys eyes widen when Wilbur shifts in place, yanking his hand from Tommy's. In a swift series of movements, Wilbur's arm is thrown back with a large object in hand- wait when did he get a rock? There's a loud crash as Wil throws the object; The rock tumbles through the foliage, effectively catching the creatures attention. It lets out a rumbling bark, immediately nose diving into the underbrush. Tommy scrambles against the bark of the tree, watching as Wilbur bolts from his spot besides him and quickly disappears past the tree trunk. 

     Tommy scrambles to follow Wilbur, tripping over his feet and the roots of the tree as he goes after Wil. Dread seeps into his stomach when a loud, ear piercing howl erupts from behind him. Tommy has his eyes set onto the back of Wilburs trench coat, focusing on his brother's back as his legs fly a mile a minute beneath him. His heart thunders in his chest, lungs burning as he sucks in quick gasps of air. 

    A crash and screech alerts them both that the Creature had caught on to their scent, the loud pounding of paws on the earth floor was enough to light a fire beneath Tommy's feet. He watches as Wilbur pushes past the barrier of foliage that encases the road they were traveling earlier- a spark of hope ignites in the boy's chest as he closes in on where Wilbur had disappeared. Tommy's mouth opens into a silent cry as he trips over a root or rock, sending his body barreling through the wall of leaves and out onto the road.

    Tommy hits the ground hard, the impact forcefully knocking the wind from his lungs as he tumbles forwards. Tommy lets out a wheeze as he lays helplessly on the road, desperately gasping for air as he claws at the dirt beneath him,  trying to make more distance between him and the creature. 

    A loud caterwaul fills the air, quickly followed  by a near deafening screech. Tommy curls in on himself, covering his head with his arms. The blonde cries out when something solid hits his side as an uncomfortable warmth seeps through his ragged clothes. 

     Tommy peeks open one of his eyes, face morphing into fear as he stares at the battered face of whatever had been chasing them. He screams, desperately scrambling backwards to get away from the thing. It takes him a second to realize that the creature very much wasn't alive at all. The head that had been staring at him was decapitated, head severed just below its jaw from its neck. 

  

     " Damn- that was a close call. " 

     As if the situation could get even more confusing, a voice comes from Tommy's left, spooking the boy significantly. He turns to face whoever had just been talking. Tommy is immediately greeted by a figure looming above him, the sun above perfectly silhouetting the stranger just right so he couldn't make out their face. 

 

     " Wil?" Tommy asks hesitantly.  He quickly realizes that whoever this was- certainly wasn't Wilbur. Tommy immediately gets into a standing position, swaying lightly on his feet from an intense feeling of vertigo- he must have hit his head hard when he fell. 

     The green man takes a step back, holding up his hands in an attempt to appear harmless. The bow and arrow in hand accompanied by the sword on this stranger's hip paints a different story. The incredibly tall height this guy is packing intensities the whole "intimidation" factor- he has to at least be eight feet tall. He was clad in a green camo jumper, a gold chest plate adorns his chest along with golden shoulder pads, his face obscured by what appeared to be a gas mask. 

     " Who- Who the fuck are you?"  Tommy splutters, unsure of what to make of this situation he's found himself in. The stranger lowers his hands, a soft "oh right" escaping him as he tries to find the right words. 

    “ My name is Awesam... But my friends call me Sam. “ 

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 6

since a lot of people thought it would be a great idea, i guess we really are gonna roll out that social media AU after this monstrosity is done (because apparently everything i write these days is a monstrosity). 

also, in case i never made it clear before: this story is a slight canon divergence. more on that later. enjoy, and thanks in advance for reblogs 🥰

[Read Chronicles on AO3] [Follow me on Twitter!]

maybe i’m coming by too much.

Marinette’s been looking at him funny lately. And he doesn’t think it’s because he keeps ordering all those napoleons. Or because he keeps peeking inside each box to see if she’s left him any more macarons. (He’s even figured out the flavor now. Blueberry. Is that what she thinks of when she thinks of him?)

For a couple of blood-chilling days, he’s afraid that maybe she stumbled across his online accounts—that she’s put two and two together, and that her expression is questioning why he’s even bothering to come back. And that she listened to the clip of the song he posted. Which, he might add, is doing fairly well—something like fifty likes, half the number of reposts, and a few comments to boot.

From the looks of it, people would do anything to be privy to what he’s come to call “wholesome pining.” They’d also dare to say a lot of things they’d probably never do themselves. Honestly, who do they think they are, telling him to give her his number? Not to mention, they’ve got to think of better pickup lines.

But those moments pass when, as she’s slipping out of her apron one afternoon, she snaps her fingers like she’s remembered something. It’s difficult to tell whether she actually wants to remember it; her face is near-unreadable when she turns to him and says his last name out loud: “Couffaine.”

God, he’s ridiculous. He has to quell the butterflies in his stomach. “Yeah?” He tries to make it come out smoothly; he hopes it sounds that way, anyway. The only people who ever called him by his last name were harsh high school teachers who wouldn’t know creativity if it slapped them across the face and introduced itself. Them, and friends of a few years who eventually settled on weirdly endearing nicknames like “Loops” or “Fishbone.” Coming from her, it sounds like… like if she only ever called him that from now on, he’d melt on the spot.

Marinette is tapping her lips in thought, looking through the counter instead of at it. If Luka knows things like lowkey anxiety and self-preservation to the point of suffocation—and by now he’s pretty fucking sure he does—then it almost looks like she knows exactly what she wants to say, again. Has known for a while, again. “I thought I recognized your last name from somewhere, I just couldn’t place it till now.”

Well. That’s not what he expected her to say. His eyes widen just slightly. “What, you saw that blog post or something?” It was a while ago, a cheeky little thing written by some American traveler whose goal was to document buskers all around the world. He’d call it admirable. He’d even call himself flattered. But the post, which was admittedly an exaggeration of the few words they'd exchanged about his original music made it sound like heart songs were something supernatural. Like he was some spectacle or an act at a circus, or like those street corner dollar poets he’d heard so much about. The ones that, apparently, Marinette had come upon on more than one occasion. He wasn’t a gimmick; he just read people differently. And he wasn't about to start capitalizing on it now.

“No, no, it…” Her brow furrows, as though she’s afraid she might be making a mistake. Or maybe just wondering why anyone would bother to write a blog post about him. Even he doesn't understand it sometimes. “Look, I’m sorry if this is a weird thing to ask, but… you don’t happen to have a little sister, do you?”

“Yeah,” Luka says, slightly taken aback. “Juleka. She’s a couple years younger than me. You know her?”

Marinette’s fingers curl against the countertop, and she looks away. Like she’s the one ashamed. Or… or hurt. “Sort of. I think we went to school together for… a while. I think.”

It seems like the sort of thing Luka shouldn’t pry about—at least not with her, because seeing her frown like that twists his gut in the most unpleasant way—so he keeps all his questions to himself. Still, there’s a part of him mentally flipping through all of Juleka’s friends and classmates like recipe cards, trying to place the dark hair, the blue eyes, the Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“How is she?” she asks after a moment, breaking his thoughts. “Is she… doing okay these days?”

“Oh, yeah.” He thinks of his sister, probably sprawled out on the deck or even at Rose’s place, and he smiles to himself. “Just finished her first year of university. She’s staying local, though. I don’t think she wanted to go too far from home, anyway. And besides, it’s just… easier on the three of us.”

“Three?”

“The two of us, and my ma. It’s not too bad. We’re pretty tight. Like a sailor’s knot, she’d probably say.” He pauses after a nervous laugh, mentally kicks himself for rambling. “D’you want me to see if she’ll swing by sometime? Or give her your number or something? Hers is still the same, if you ever had it.”

For the first time, at least to his knowledge, Marinette freezes. Deer in headlights, color briefly draining from her face, the whole nine yards.

“Sorry,” he says, immediately and on instinct.

“No—” She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, you don’t have to be sorry, I just—I don’t know. It’s been a long time, I guess. And we've probably… changed a lot since then. That’s all.”

Something about the way she says it, the way she curls her fingers against the countertop, makes it sound like it isn’t all. But honestly, what right does he have prying? Maybe it’s a sign to start keeping his distance. To stop coming by as often. He must have overstayed his welcome by now.

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, twisting her fingers. If he knew her a little better, if he’d gotten a little closer to her, he’d want to reach over and smooth them out, because it’d be the closest he could get to smoothing out her thoughts.

Luka hesitates, watches the counter with her, absently drums his fingers to the rhythm of the song he’s been working on. Just the first few bars, over and over. He can hear them in her somewhere, coming out of hiding in her heart. They’re a tinny little thing, bells in the background, but they’re there, and they quietly demand his attention. He thinks he’d give it even if he had nothing left to give.

“I can dial it back,” he says—blurts out, more like. “If… seeing me reminds you of her. Or of things you maybe don’t want to remember.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Call it a hidden talent.” He smiles weakly. “One of those rockstar secrets.”

Marinette graces him with a laugh, though it sounds more like a push of air through her nose. “Yeah, well. I dunno how I’d make it through my shifts without my favorite regular.”

The music comes to a halt in Luka’s head, and he hopes to God his eyes aren’t as wide as dinner plates when he looks up. Not that it matters; Marinette’s got her back to him, hanging her apron up on a nearby peg and dusting the flour off the flowers and the monogram. She tries out his name again, whole this time. Luka Couffaine. She’s probably read it countless times off the bottom of his receipt, and he’s too much of a fool to forget the first time he ever heard her call to him. But when she says it this time, it feels… It makes him wonder if anyone else could ever treat it with such care. If she’d let him lock it away somewhere inside her because he trusted her to let it out in all the right ways.

Does that sound like something out of some cheesy YA novel he might find hiding in Rose’s backpack? Abso-fuckin-lutely. Whether he actually cares is debatable.

Marinette hums to herself with a little smile of her own and comes around the counter. “Just tell her I say hi,” she says, almost as though she’s trying to convince herself that these are the right words to say. “Hi, and I hope she found her peace.”

“That’s all she wrote, huh.” Luka has no idea what that means, and he’s pretty sure he won’t unless he gets home and asks. He scuffs the mat beneath him with the heel of his sneaker, jams his hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he says. “You can trust your favorite regular with that.”

One day, he’ll learn how to say something that’s actually witty. Today is definitely not looking to be that day.

At least, as he’s booking it out of the café, he can count on the softness of Marinette’s expression and her words to carry him away with some semblance of grace. That, and the first thought that every anxious little thing he ever felt about going anywhere too much, about that mortal fear of being known, might only be that. A thought. Something that’s allowed to float away.

Something he’s allowed to start to let go of, if it means someone like Marinette could know him in return.

so maybe i take back everything i ever said about going somewhere too much

in completely unrelated news, CBG said i’m her favorite regular

and i hope she finds twenty-FIVE euros on the ground today.

[redheadedwhat]

Visitation pt III

Thanks to everyone that has been reading/replying/reblogging/etc both here and on Ao3! It really means a lot to me. And a super extra special thanks to @kijilinn for beta-ing and helping me out so much. In case you need a refresher: Part I and Part II. And here’s the last chapter: Part IV.

Title: Visitation

Pairing: Negan x OFC

Rating: SFW (Major Negan language in this chapter. Cursing, discussions of sex and violence.) 

*Spoilers for TWD comics post All Out War*

A few days later Tallulah was finally headed to her first visit with Negan. She was escorted to his basement cell by Rick and Michonne, both of whom were carrying guns, and was surprised to see two more armed guards already down there. Apparently, they weren’t taking any chances. “To what do I owe the fucking pleasure, Rick?” Negan asked with a grin. Tallulah was still hidden in the shadows behind Rick, so she got to see Negan before he saw her.

“You’ve got a visitor.” Rick told him coldly. He still felt a bit iffy about this, but after a lot of discussion and debate it had been decided that there would be no harm in letting Negan get supervised visits with Tallulah and their eventual child as long as he behaved himself. As much as Negan could possibly behave himself. That didn’t mean Rick trusted the guy. Hence the armed guards that would be in attendance even though Negan wouldn’t even be exiting his cell. Tallulah knew that was her cue to step into the light and get this visit on the road, but she was surprisingly nervous. She hadn’t seen him in months and now here she was, about to give him life-changing and personal news in front of an audience of his enemies. He was not going to like that. He was a loud mouth, but he liked to keep personal shit personal especially anything that could be perceived as a weakness and used against him. Taking a deep breath she stepped into his line of sight. “Lulu!” Negan greeted her, surprised, but not unhappy. “Did you come to fucking visit me?” “Hi, Negan.” She smiled, stepping closer to his cell. She decided to give him a few moments to notice that she was pregnant before saying anything, knowing that his eyes always lingered on her breasts for a good while before taking in the rest of her. “Holy shit!” There it was. “You look like you swallowed a fucking basketball!” he laughed. “And you look like the Brawny paper towel guy, but you don’t see me making fun of you, do you, Grizzly Adams?” She replied tartly. Of course he’d make a fucking joke. “I’m just fucking with you, darlin’, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” He smiled at her somewhat apologetically. “You look good, really. Who’s the lucky fucker?” Tallulah was taken aback slightly. Did he really just ask her that? He noticed her confusion, “What? I’m happy for you! I’m glad you were able to move on and while I’m sure your new man is nowhere near as fucking badass as me, he’s probably alright in his own way.” “Negan, you’ve only been gone for five months.” She said simply. “Yeah, so?” He shrugged. “I’m seven months pregnant.” She pointed out. Negans eyes widened. “Oh.” “Yeah. Oh.” Tallulah shook her head. How could he be so dense? “Fuck no.” he suddenly exclaimed, almost looking like a trapped rat. “That ain’t mine.” “What?!” Tallulah gasped as Rick stepped forward to intervene. “You’re denying that this is your child?” Rick asked. “Fuck yes I am!” Negan responded forcefully. “There is no possible fucking way that I’m the father!” Rick was confused to say the least. “Wasn’t Tallulah one of your wives?” “Yeah, she was.” Negan confirmed, crossing his arms over his broad chest defensively. “And the two of you were, um…” Rick searched for the least embarrassing way to put it. He so did not want to be having this conversation. “Intimate?” Negan smirked a bit while he watched Rick squirm. He may have been in a shitty situation, but seeing Rick so uncomfortable made it all a little better. “Yeah, we fucked.” he shot a wink over at one of the female guards who also looked extremely uncomfortable. “But I also fucked the rest of my wives and none of them turned up here fucking pregnant. Besides, I was always careful.” “Oh like fuck you were!” Tallulah exclaimed, marching up to the bars now more pissed than hurt. “Have you forgotten all the times you’d conveniently forget to put on a condom until I was too distracted to care? Not to mention that every time I did bring it up I’d get, ‘Aw come on Lulu, I’ll remember next time’ or ‘Sorry baby, my dicks too hard for me to think straight’?” Negan couldn’t really deny that, so he decided to deflect instead. “Ok, so what? Did any of the other fucking wives get pregnant? No. If I’m dropping fucking loads into half a dozen women, I would have gotten more than one knocked up.” “How very eloquent.” Rick muttered, stepping closer to Michonne. He really didn’t want to be here anymore. “Sure, let’s talk about the other wives shall we?” Tallulah countered, a wild glint in her eyes that made Negan a bit nervous. “You do know that women talk, don’t you? Compare notes?” she was right in front of him now, staring him down without fear. “I know for a fact that you were usually a pain in the ass about contraception with most of the other girls. Amber told me that you went so far as to wrap your dick in saran wrap once when you ran out of condoms.” “That’s just because I knew that bitch was cheating on me!” Negan exclaimed. “AHA!” Tallulah stood before him with her hands on her hips, her smile triumphant. “So you wouldn’t have sex with her without protection because you knew she cheated, but you constantly had unprotected sex with me, meaning you knew I wasn’t fucking around on you.” She kind of had him there, not that he was going to admit it. “It’s not fuckin mine, Tallulah! Stop trying to pin this shit on me!” “What possible reason could I have for lying to you?” she asked incredulously. “There’s no such thing as child support anymore and even if there were, you’re in fucking prison! You aren’t the big bad leader of The Sanctuary right now. I’m not going to get any perks. I won’t even get any help with childcare! How is pinning my pregnancy on a man that’s imprisoned for life going to help me out at all?” Tallulah knew she’d said the wrong thing the moment the words left her mouth. She also immediately understood why Negan was acting the way he was. He wasn’t the nicest guy in the world and he loved to portray himself as a vicious motherfucker, but he did actually care about people and he secretly loved to be needed. Having a woman out in the world carrying his child all by herself while he was locked away and unable to do anything to help or protect her must be a huge fucking blow to his ego. It’s probably one of his worst nightmares, actually. And she had just ripped open that wound for a room full of people. Great job, Tallulah. Negan looked pretty pissed and maybe even a bit hurt, but he didn’t want to act out on it in front of their current audience. “Just go back to the Sanctuary, Tallulah.” he gritted out. “I can’t.” She replied softly. She may have understood his motivations and even felt a bit bad, but she wasn’t going to back down. “They don’t want me there. No matter where I go, there’s going to be someone that knows me and knows whose baby this is.” “Allegedly.” Negan grunted. “Well I’m sorry Negan, I tried to call Maury so we could get a paternity test, but it turns out that his schedule is chock full of eating peoples faces.” Negan reluctantly chuckled, apparently finished with the yelling for now. “This is not the place for you, Lulu. The people fucking hate me here. You are not gonna have an easy time making fucking friends.” “So? I’m in reality-tv villain mode. I am not here to make friends.” She smiled, walking up to the cell and putting one hand on the bars while the other rested on her belly. She felt a little better now that he was showing a bit of concern for her. “This is not America’s Next Top Best Friend.” “I forgot how fucking weird you are.” Negan shook his head and walked up to place his hand on top of hers on the cell bars. “I missed that about you.” “I miss that about you, too.” She told him, looking into his eyes and allowing herself to have this little moment. She had been telling the truth when she told Rick that she and Negan weren’t in love, but they were fond of one another. “So,” Rick coughed, once again feeling extremely uncomfortable, “You’re admitting this child is yours?” “Fuck no.” Negan responded immediately, dropping his hand and moving back from the bars. “Oh for fucks sake, Negan!” Tallulah exclaimed. “What do I have to do to make you admit that this baby is yours?!” “I don’t fucking know!” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe if the kid fucking looks like me or acts like me or some shit?” “So unless this baby comes out wearing a leather jacket and trying to bash the doctors brains in with its umbilical cord, you won’t admit that you’re the father?” Negan only shrugged, completely done with this conversation for now. Tallulah sighed and looked back at Rick to let him know that she was ready to leave. “Fine, but this isn’t over.” Rick escorted her back upstairs with Michonne taking the rear. Before Michonne reached the staircase she turned to look at Negan in his cell. “You’re an even bigger asshole than I thought.” Michonne told him. “Yeah,” he grumbled, sinking down onto his cot. “I know.”

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Once again, feel free to send me comments/questions/critiques! This is the first story I’ve written in awhile and I’d love some feedback.

@blueco16 is the first person to ask to be tagged for this fic! Thank you so much! 

@negans-network