#*wheezes* that's a lotta tags

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 12-14 author notes

Hi hello and welcome to yet another ramble about Fragments C: I’m doing these regularly because there’s so much I wanna say about my idiots, and I like looking back and appreciating the work I’ve done.

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

I haven’t commented on any of the ShB episodes yet, so here we go. Chapter 2 is estimated to last for over a year real-time, it correlates to the msq events up to Amity. The name honestly I’m not too proud of, I didn’t wanna spend too much brain juice on it :’> But the cover.....

Obligatory ShB spoiler warning!

- Investigating each other. They’ve become completely new people since ARR.

- Despite what he thinks of himself, our lord and savior Crystal Exarch has the ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ grandeur ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆.

- Vivi’s self-image is similar, he doesn’t see himself as anything grand no it’s not a height joke but Exarch rapidly grows in his eyes as he learns about him.

- He sports an outfit I once doodled and found cute, I’m just being cheeky about his newfound obsession.

- He also appears fragile to Exarch, who’s literally seen a world where he died being this young. Exarch wants to protect him, to say the least.

- Vivi’s perceived helplessness and lack of agency in ShB, although it’s nothing he hasn’t already been through in his other WoL misadventures.

- The Light, of course the wicked white surrounding them.

Episode 12 I’m proud of writing-wise, but not art-wise. Turns out the Ocular is a bigger bitch to draw/paint than I’d anticipated, and, although I’ve mostly figured it out by now (having just released episode 16 for patrons), the colors and light in the episode 12 will forever stick out like a sore thumb to me, probably until I find the time to redraw it. Same goes for the Scions, learning to draw a whole bunch of new characters over a week (roughly, an episode takes 7~14 days to complete), well, I should’ve taken a bigger break and practiced some more.

I’d even apply the ugly word “crunch” to this episode. But ah, the best page wasn’t crunched, hell started breaking loose a bit later. Yeah I don’t work in order, usually I do the most important frames first.

A bit of a sidetrack: even though I sometimes find myself wanting for more time between episodes, I don’t think I can afford making the releases even more sparse, current 2-week cycle ensures that this story WILL reach its finale in some distant 2028 if not later, I’m not kidding, it might take even longer and I’ve only been working on the script for a year. The broad strokes are complete, but I indulge in adding more sweet nonsense here and there. Or sometimes a raw af dialogue pops up in my head and MUST be included in some chapter. In other words, help, this behemoth keeps growing.

Personally I’m loyal to my fandoms, and not in a rush to finish the comic, but my mmo experience bangs on that nothing lasts forever: I don’t know where the xiv community would be in 5+ years from now, and I need A LOT of people supporting me, allowing me to work on this full time. So I’d rather keep a steady pace while it’s still possible.

As I get more xp in painting backgrounds and learn all the ShB character designs, it should become easier for me. Currently I’m fumbling through a new field, so please bear with me :’D

Back to the main topic: I came up with and scrapped at least 2 ideas of the transition between ARR and ShB, the timeskip was always planned, but Vivi needed some more introduction still. Current iteration of Exarch “interviewing” the Scions seems the most fun and creative to me.

Also, tea parties with Urianger and Feo Ul :> They’re his only two friends in my hc, Urianger he purposely revealed himself to, and Feo Ul, merely being a soul in a sparkly shell, can see Exarch’s soul as well, hoods are useless. All while they’re somewhat reliable, truly the paragon of pixies who wouldn’t randomly spill his secrets (probably).

Vivi’s a mirror. Every single one of us is, to some degree. We react and adapt to the way the others treat us, and so does Vivi. Unintentionally, of course. It’s a natural “passive trait”. All the Scions except Urianger (for the same reason he managed to trick the pixies, he’s just a special smartass) see their reflections in Vivi, direct or warped.

Y’shtola is basically this:

Can’t promise equal amounts of screentime for all the Scions, but the twins and Thancred are the closest to Vivi, you’ll definitely see more of them.

He’s 26 now, which is still rather young by the elezen standards, and he’s way too tired (tm) probably like most WoLs at this point in time.

Maybe not of life itself, but he’s definitely sick of the Source and all its inhabitants. For all he cares, this place can go to hells.

His state just so happens to be perfect for the isekai love story that awaits him. How did he get there? I know, you’ll have to stick around until I deem it appropriate to drop some flashback episodes. I’m leery of loredumping too early on: firstly, you current readers will get more invested over time, therefore have more fun learning about him at a later point; secondly, I’m personally not a fan of tragic backstories right in yo face, before the main story gets a chance to breathe. And, mind you, Vivi’s past isn’t even THAT tragic, just, well.. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes \o/

In this episode I wanted to show his practical approach to things. He may possess an Echo, Blessing, soul stone and whatnot else, but gotta stick a good ol’ dagger in a boot just in case. He’s a doubter, just a tiny bit paranoid.

Also he has The Chair (tm) where he dumps clothes on. His room in the Rising Stones looks vague for now because we indeed don’t return there for years in real time, I don’t need to spend my energy on designing this room in detail just yet.

Most items don’t hold any special meaning, he simply prepares for a journey into the unknown. Well, there’s the journal he dumps his cringy thoughts in, and doodles sometimes. The trinket he holds here is a Princess Ai easter egg:

I talked about Vivi’s character influences and inspirations here if you haven’t seen yet C:

Exarch’s glorious meltdown does a good job averting eyes from Feo Ul being right there in the beginning of the episode 14, but yeah they’re present not for no reason :>

Mentally he’s still in the msq cutscene.

Gotta mention that there’s no amnesia, insanity, or other sad brain fuckery ever in this comic. Vivi’s head’s made of dense and sturdy stuff x’D

Just a meme I made because I had to :>

There isn’t much Deep Meaning in this episode, the visuals speak for themselves, and I’m DAMN PROUD of them.

We don’t see Exarch in this moment ingame, so I took my creative liberty to illustrate the range of emotions he goes through in like 5 minutes before finally rushing out to meet his hero in person, forgetting that he can teleport at will (yet another hc of mine) anywhere in the Tower’s vicinity, and doing so on foot.

That’s it for now, thank you for reading this and enjoying Fragments C:

[mist-touchedxiv]

Chapter 1

A warm wind blew across the plain, a welcome touch in the desert of Thanalan. However, it didn't provide any relief to the Hyur man who was being harassed by a group of bandits.

A solid kick to his stomach caused him to gasp as the wind was driven from his lungs.

"Ye gotta lotta nerve taking a drink from OUR well, scum," purred the cruel Mi'qote woman perched on the stone lip of the well in question. The rag tag group of intimidating men and women growled in agreement. A couple of bandits roughly picked up the man by each arm, one forcefully raised his chin so he could look the leader in the eyes.

"P-please..." the man wheezed weakly as the hot dry air began to fill his lungs again. "Th-this... well is the closest.... water source.... f-for my village... We don't have much-"

One of the bandits started to dramatically boo-hoo, a poor mummer's farce of the man's dilemma.

"Oy! I keep telling ye, ye need to do comedy," squawked another bandits delightedly, the others roared with laughter in agreement.

The bandit leader lazily stretched and crossed her legs on her perch. "Just consider us members of the community who are guarding the well. We have to make our vittles too. How about... 10,000 gil a moon? We'll also take other goods and sundries if you can't afford the coin."

"Th-that's impossible," sputtered the Hyur man. "We're only a small mining town! W-we can't meet that deman-" Stars exploded across the man's vision as the Mi'qote leader slapped him across the face.

As the pain and stars receded, the Hyur numbly noticed something strange behind the bandits. The sound of a loud slurp startled the leader who hopped with incredible alacrity off the well wall with a hiss. Somehow a tall man dressed in blue Doman clothing in a large straw hat had managed to approach the group unseen in the open wasteland. The assembled group couldn't help but stare nonplussed as the stranger took another deep slurp of the cool water from the well. Next to him, a thin long package wrapped in canvas rested against the well.

For a moment, a stunned silence filled the air, punctuated only by the breeze and the squeaking of the windmill that drew the life-giving water in the well. And the stranger's noisy drinking.

"O-oy! Who the hells is this git," barked the wannabe mummer, breaking the silence after a long beat. The gang's attention was now on the newcomer and they were feeling very tense.

The stranger wiped ran his thumb along his stubbly beard as he let out a satisfied sigh. He nudged up the hat and considered them with bright blue eyes. "Just thirsty," came the reply, his voice pleasant with an accent unfamiliar in Eorzea.

"You gotta pay a toll to use OUR well," growled a scarred Elezen. "Ye would do well not to end up like this unfortunate scum." He lashed out with his foot at the man they'd been bullying but found naught but air as he had crawled away during the silence.

The stranger in blue paid them no heed as he filled up a water skin calmly. A particularly rough looking Hrothgar stomped over to him. "Ye got dust in your ears," he roared as he reached a huge hand over to grab the stranger's hat. "I'll fi-" There was a sharp crack as the stranger suddenly lashed out with inhuman speed and drove the end of the wrapped package into the throat of the Hrothgar who let out a coughing mew as he fell over, his hand taking the hat with him to reveal a mane of black hair with azure streaks and two long leoprine ears. The wrapping fell from the package to reveal what appeared to be a Garlean gunblade sheathed, but the blade was slightly shorter and appeared to be missing the barrel.

"Hells... it's a Viera male..." breathed the gang leader as the rarity of such a pretty creature registered with her. He had to be worth something. A lot of somethings. Possibly more than their water scheme. To their credit, the rest of the gang seemed to have already come to the same realization and drew their weapons and began to surround the blue stranger.

The Viera put his hand on the hilt of his blade, readying himself. "Trust me... it's not worth it," he said quietly, sensing their intentions. "Walk away." The leader let out a harsh cackle as she nocked an arrow on her bow.

"Got ye dead to rights, now be a good pretty bunny and come with us," she purred, aiming to pin his foot. Didn't want to damage the goods too much.

The wind blew.

The wind mill creaked.

The villains brandished their weapons with unspoken threats of violence.

Crystalline blue eyes regarded their surroundings.

Suddenly, the wind died and the Mi'qote let the arrow loose.

Her aim was true, but the target was gone. In a flash of steel, the man had seemed to dance his way through the ring of bandits with the grace and power of a surging river. The Mi'qote blinked surprised, suddenly spinning around to find the Viera behind her.

She snarled "I got ye no-" She suddenly realized that her bow was no longer stringed, having been cut during the mad dance of the swordsman. With a definitive click as he fully sheathed his blade again, the ground shook slightly as the whole gang crumpled to the dirt. They were still breathing but were not having a good time.

Time seemed to standstill for eternity. Then the wind blew again and brought them back to the present.

".... Go," ordered the Viera and the gang complied, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

[persesphonestears]

Saw an incorrect quote thing from @blingblong55 with the request/idea from @san-emi and it gave me a silly idea.

So here's my sorta take on the joke though all credit besides the few things I changed up belongs to the two previously tagged.

TW'S - selfharm, humour as a coping mechanism, sorta dark topic, light-hearted, [as stated below this isn't a way to make light of selfharm, I've been through it and use humour and jokes like these to help cope.]

TW - Joke contains 'dark' humour or someone/[Reader] using humour to cope with selfharm. If this is triggering for you please don't read. {nothing graphic} (This is not me making light of people who use selfharm as a coping mechanism.) !!Keep reading at your own risk!!

Gaz: so R/n, what do you do in your free time when your not 'round us lot?

R/n: oh you know, the usual, cutting myself

Gaz: huh oh cool.. *registers what they said*…wot?

Soap, head perking up: ‘aye, com again lad?

*Ghost stares[glares] hard at R/n*

R/n: a lotta sLacK *slaps knees, wheezing* gotcha all there didn’t I? Huh? Ehhhhh? *under their breath* I'm so funny

Gaz: you little shit. really?

Ghost, muttering under his breath: bloody fuckin hell

Soap: steamin' Jesus mate... *nervous laugh*

R/n: Yeah but I mean I haven't relapsed in a while! *smiling like they didn't just admit to their whole team they probably need more mandatory therapy sessions*

Everyone besides R/n: *deadpanned* oh for fucks sake.

.Minutes later.

Price: Yes Laswell, they made another one. Yes of course I've told them to stop making jokes about it. Hell, I've even given them more training when they do it yet it continues! I just- get them more therapy sessions and talk with the therapist to see what medication they should be taking.

R/n: *in Prices office with a frown/pout for being told off again*

[oogaboogaspookyman]

[IT'S A ME]

.

.

.

.

[1]

It's been decades since i have seen another mortal soul in front of me

My head had deteriorated alongside with the land, i feel like i died

*ya no wonder you look like a creep don't fuckin' touch Gf she's taken and doesn't accept absolute horrid creatures like you mfer*

[2]

Decades trapped inside this MOTHERFUCKING CONSOLE

Everything around me fell apart just like my brain, Super Mario is now no more

*dayum yeah that be rough but did i ask? Fucker?*

(I HAD DECAYED)

[3]

No turning back now, the damage is done

Let's see if you'd like it if i were to pull you apart too!

*yeah you a bitch fuck off go bother someone else, sonic.exe wannabe I AM GOD head ass bitchass dumbass stupid ass goofyass no bitches having ass*

[4]

I'm gonna have a lotta fun tearing you apart, inch by agonizing inch!

The both of you are gonna be my playthings 'till the very end!

*what did i fuckin' say. EXEs never change, it's all the same damn thing y'know, so cheesy it's even funny man shut up*

[5]

It's-a me, just Super Mario in the flesh!

This old plumber is gonna shove your innards inside a pipe, they'll never find your body before you rot!

*yeah yeah same ol' same ol' bs shut yo ass up you're annoying*

(you're gonna rot inside the pipes, and nobody will ever tell you're GONE)

[6]

It's been decades since i had seen another human being in my now godly presence

My humanity had become naught but a faint memory in the depths of my subconcious

Do you know the feeling of your soul watching your own body rotting and fading away, so powerless?

*don't fuckin' trauma dump on me you bitch fuck you, dipshit*

(ME, I HAVE DIED)

(YET, I CAN BREATHE)

[7]

Kill you

I'll kill you, rip you up into little pieces

Eat your remains, your innards, you're gonna die!

*🖕😐🖕* (AUTHOR'S NOTE: wHEEZE-)

[8]

Decades trapped inside this stupid fucking console, left to ROT

I WATCHED MY OWN BODY DIE WITH MY OWN EYES

*yeah that's definetly traumatic but did i fuckin' ask* (author's note: MAN FUCK OFF)

(YOU'RE GONNA DIE LIKE I HAVE BEFORE)

[9]

LET'S NOT WASTE ANY MORE TIME

I'M ABOUT TO RIP OUT YOUR SPINE

YOUR SOUL WILL BELONG TO ME

YOUR FLESH WILL BE ALL MINE TO EAT

NOW THE BOTH OF YOU WILL BE MY PLAYTHINGS

YOUR FATE WAS SET IN MOTION THE MOMENT YOU LAID YOUR EYES ON THE CARTRIDGE

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THE HELL YOU'VE UNLEASHED UPON YOURSELF

*oh no the track just became even more of a banger oh nooo this means bad things are gonna happen whatever will i doooooo fuck you*

[10]

NOW, LET'S SET THIS SHIT STRAIGHT, PLAY OUR ONE THRILLING GAME

LET'S PLAY TAG, SEE IF YOU CAN OUTRUN MY KNIFE, LITTLE BLUEBALLS BOY

*okay- out of character here- i love how i'm so like "man shut yo bitchass up i don't want no killer Mario tryna ruin my day fuck you" meanwhile for some reason Bf is canonically afraid for his life and his Gf's safety like- YOU'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE AND YOU SURVIVED BECAUSE THEY WERE FUCKING STUPID AS SHIT MY GUY oh wait good part incoming hol' up*

(GO ON)

(RUN OFF)

(TRY ME)

[11]

GO AHEAD AND TRY, RUN FROM ME AND DELAY THE INEVITABLE, SEE IF IT DOES YOU ANY GOOD, KEEP YOUR SOUL AWAY FROM ME

[12]

THE FLAMES OF MY HELLHOLE WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE BEFORE YOU EVEN SET FOOT IN YOUR MORTAL REALM

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK WITH THE WRONG FORCES OUTSIDE OF YOUR CONTROL

NOW YOU WILL PAY

*OOOHHHH*

*oh yo this is actually awesome hold ON YO*

*YOOOOO*

(IT'S-A ME, JUST SUPER MARIO, ABOUT TO SHOW YOU THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS)

[WE'RE GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN]

[JUST ME AND YOU]

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A Fun Directory To All The Local Sites

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/CsgnOfN by alchemistsarego “There’s the man of the hour,” Jason grinned. “Say, have you had a chance to check out the great directory I got you?” Dick’s elbow somehow managed to get into Jason’s ribs but he easily shoved his older brother away. Tim hadn’t risen to the bait. No, he just kept half standing half leaning on the couch. “Drake,” Jason said. “I said did you get a chance to-” Jason’s voice trailed off, realising that Tim was shaking. “Get Bruce!” Jason barked. Whumperless Whump July 2024, Day 5, Stealing My Breath (give it back) Wheezing - Lightheaded - 'I'll Count, You Just Breathe' Words: 4301, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 15 of Whumperless Whump July 2024, Part 37 of What's A Little Bafam Without A Whole Lotta Trauma? Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Whumperless Whump July 2024, Day 5, Stealing My Breath (give it back), wheezing, Lightheaded, 'I'll Count You Just Breathe', Whump, Tim Drake Whump, Hurt Tim Drake, Collapsed lung, Broken Bones, Jason can be an asshole, But he can also be a brother, Near Death Experiences, Surgery Mention read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/CsgnOfN

[hornime]

EEEEE inky i hope you can figure everything out:( butttt for your lewd event: how about size kink and knife play with mattsun?:3 can't wait to see what you come up with!!<3 oh yeah, just tag my writing blog pls hehe thank you<33

STAY SHARP | MATSUWAKA ISSEI X GN!READER

part of my a whole lotta lewd event! [ details | masterlist | CLOSED ]

warnings: 18+, DARK CONTENT (PLEASE DON’T READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS), dom!mattsun, gn!reader, oral (m!receiving), size kink (ish), knife play, mention of throat bulge, slight asphyxiation

a/n: LERA!!!! THANKS FOR REQUESTING!!!! also only good things are happening so dw! i’m excited for what lies ahead and things are falling into place and its great <3 ALSO I KNOW THIS PROB ISNT WHAT YOU HAD IN MIND BUT THE IDEA CAME AND I RAN WITH IT. and @peachycoreroo​ hehe

"i don’t think you should move.”

mattsun gazes down at you impassively, but despite his emotionless expression, you can see a gleam of lust in his eyes. he flicks the pocketknife open and closed in the air, the sharp click! of the blade echoing in your ears.

you’re on the bed, head hanging off the side with your body laying on the blankets. your throat is right in line with mattsun’s cock—it’s the perfect position for him to fuck your face.

which is exactly what you’re counting on.

your throat bobs as you swallow, and you’re suddenly reminded of why he told you not to move as he presses the cool metal of the knife against the tender skin of your jugular.

moving your eyes downwards from the ceiling so that you’re looking into his, you give him a slight nod before letting your jaw open and tongue peek out from between your lips, and he lets out a shaky breath. 

“are you sure you wanna—”

rolling your eyes, you wrap your hands around the back of his thighs and pull him closer, fumbling to unzip his jeans while seeing it upside down. after an awkward minute of your failing hand-eye coordination, you give him an exasperated glare: “can you help me out here?”

“yeah, um. yeah.” he quickly undoes his pants and kicks them and his boxers off, stroking himself to full hardness with one hand while keeping the knife pressed to your neck with the other. you gulp at how large and long his cock looks, especially at this angle. you’re thankful for the position that you’re currently in—although it gives you absolutely no control, at least you’ll actually be able to fit him.

you try to keep your breathing even as he pushes inside your mouth, your lips, glossy with spit, stretching wide along his girth. as his cock gets farther and farther down your throat, it bulges, something you realize as the knife gets precariously close to breaking skin despite him maintaining a balanced grip.

“fuck,” he groans. “you feel good like this.”

he pushes in and out, the knife digging deeper into your skin every time his balls slap against your face. for a brief second, you’re scared it’ll draw blood, and squeeze your eyes shut, but the sensual noises coming from mattsun bring your attention elsewhere as you part your eyelids again.

“mmph.” you can’t help but moan at the sight above you—his head is thrown back, jaw slack as he grunts and spews filth with every rock of his hips.

your hand comes up to grab his wrist, trying to keep the sharp edge of the knife steady as his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier. as the metal bears down a bit too hard against you, your throat involuntarily constricts around him to escape the stinging sensation—it’s not like there’s much room for you to breath with something that big inside you anyway—and he lets out a choked wheeze.

“shit, do that again.”

you’re barely able to suck in oxygen, small inhales through your nose keeping you just above unconsciousness while black dots dance in your vision, as he bottoms out in your throat while simultaneously flattening the freezing blade against your trachea. 

“fuck, fuck fuck fuck, i’m cumming—”

without a warning, he cums in your mouth, completely obstructing your airways for a moment too long before pulling out. you desperately try to suck air into your lungs, spluttering and gagging, as mattsun tries to help you sit up.

“you absolute ass,” you rasp, voice hoarse from the soreness in your throat. rolling onto your stomach and getting off the bed, you smack his arm. “i couldn’t breathe. thought you were gonna slice my throat open, too, you bitch. i’m never trusting you with something sharp ever again.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, grabbing each of your hands with his own and drawing you into a hug. “i’m sorry.” something small is forced into your palm, the knife, and you pull back with a confused noise

“why’d you—”

mattsun sits on the bed, patting his lap with the intention of getting you to straddle him. 

“maybe you can use it on me this time and we’ll call it even. how’s that sound?”

if you enjoyed, reblogs + comments are appreciated!

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[bluewinnerangel]

The blue green background in the louis post is because the fan is wearing a blue jersey and the background is green so if he shrinks the photo from full screen , instagram will add ghe colors in the picture to the background. But it’s a great coincidence that intentionally or unintentionally they end up doing it, so i’d give him that.

this is because i just wheezed in the tags isn't it

I know that background is just because that generates according to the colors in the pic, i meant like he couldve had the pic fullscreen but no the universe said no. And I said what I said about the flanel. I'm convinced these men are hyperaware of the colors they're wearing, and yeah let the man wear clothes but it's been a whole lotta times in a row now hasn't it, that they're going all out with the blue bandana / laurels / clothes named louis or harry / blue+green, nearly every time we see em it's just a "larries you know what this means" party all over again so you bet I'm gonna yell every time.

[bunnvoid]

Tagged by @batshit-birds,, Thank you! <3<3

1. why did you choose your url? Since this account was just for posting comic related things I used my alt name instead of my normal ‘glowyvoid’ 

2. any side blogs?

I have one not-main-blog-anymore I used for rbing whatever and an all art one that I don't use because I forget about its existence all the time ( I should really post there *wheeze*)

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

I think either late 2013 or 2014, I got on in middle school and I have idea what year that was.

4. do you have a queue tag?

I do but I rarely or never use it

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

I had already casually enjoyed superhero stuff for a while but after a convention in like 2019 I found out about Conner’s og superboy run and bought a volume of his 90s run at said convention. Then bam fell in love with the funky dude and posted art from a little crossover my gf and I made of our favs. (I stopped posting for a while because school and I accidently deleted 20+ dc fanart pieces and was majorly upset)

6. why did you choose your icon?

He,,I love he, need his gender

7. why did you choose your header?

I will always love Kon and its just genuinely some of my favorite panels

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

Batpack! Which im surprised but also not (cuz dami is baby), it was an on whim idea after thinking about carrying my little niece around when I use to look after her

9. how many mutuals do you have?

Numbers and I are mortal enemies. But I have quite a few! I love them all with my heart even if im too nervous to ever say anything to em

10. how many followers do you have?

1,035! Which is insane! and for that I shall show my gratitude with my scribbles

11. how many people are you following?

278! There’s a lotta really cool people

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

Yes. Mainly to terrorize my gf but also cuz funni

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

Mostly yeah, life rn is pretty slow so why not

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

I don’t believe so. I try not to, that energy and attention I don’t have enough to waste

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

So-so, a lot of the times some are important so I think that’s good if they’re spreading awareness.

16. do you like tag games? Absolutely! Its just neat!

17. do you like asks games? Yeah! I don’t mind em!

18. which of your tumblr mutuals do you think is famous?

A lot of them are hella talented and funny individuals so like if all of them were I wouldn’t be surprised. Every time someone I follow follows me back Im just ‘:O!!’

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

@3jen3  I’d share my sticker collection with her (does it count if she’s my wife?)

20. tags

(feel free to ignore this if you’d like! I know tag/ask games arent everyone's things^^’’) @feralforwildblueyonder @scarletbirbs @awkwardalphajay @jasontoddsguns @3jen3 @monsterz38339 @junkoandthediamonds @astr0fish @queerbutstillhere (+everyone im too shy to tag)

Edit I broke the tags KDOWNSJ HOW DO I FIX IT

Edit 2: I fixed it! I’m so smart and totally know how to use this platform,,,no mistakes were made ever

[emily-strange]

Second Chances

Everyone’s responses have been so encouraging! Thank you so much :)

In this chapter I’ve tried switching between Reader and John’s POV. Please let me know if it doesn’t make sense or is hard to follow. I’ve tried to work it into the story without making it an obvious change in character but let me know!

Tagging @porkchop-ao3 @redeadepression @lucacangettathisasss @janewilson-rdo @gangofgunslingers and @fangirl-ramblings who asked but if you’d like me to stop let me know :)

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You’re Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting when the O’Driscoll’s attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: Mild panic/anxiety attack.

Chapter 4

After your little talk with Tilly and Mary-Beth, you decided to check up on your mother. Miss Grimshaw was in a strangely happy mood (you put it down to being in the sun after the snow for so long) so she was alright with the women taking it a bit easier today; which no one was going to argue with.

You find your mother on the edge of camp sewing in the sun. That’s good you think. She’s keeping busy.

“Hi mama,” you greet before sitting next to her on the log “how’re you feeling?”

“Oh fine.” She says smiling, “How’re you baby?”

It’s so nice to see your mother smile again.

“Sore! I actually think washing clothes is harder than hunting” you laugh with her while trying to stretch out your back.

You look over the camp at everyone going about their day and you catch sight of Abigail making daisy chains with Jack. She’s sat on the ground, her skirt bunched up around her and you can tell how much fun they’re having.

“Remember when we used to make mud pies? And then one time I tricked papa into taking a bite?” you giggle to yourself at the memory. Your father was such a soft, sweet man. Your parents were the perfect pair in your eyes. You’re brought back to the present when you see your mom laughing and shaking her head.

“What!?” you ask incredulously and laugh when your mother snorts.

“Oh baby, you tricked no one” she laughed “Your daddy just wanted to see you smile.”

“No! You remember. It was dinner time. You asked me to set the table….and I served him the pie and he put salt on it before….” You stopped explaining your memory when it hit you, “Oh my God” you burst out into fits of laughter covering your face, “I was so gullible!”

Your mother elbows you gently in the side, “Oh hush, you were 9.”

You sit quietly groaning of very mild embarrassment and only show your face to the sun again once you hear your mother sniff, “I’m….I’m sorry mama. I know you don’t like to think about him.”

Your mother sighs and turns to you, “Oh baby. There won’t be a day that goes by I won’t think of your daddy.” She places her palm to your face and smiles sadly, her eyes wet with unshed tears and then you feel it. That prickle behind your eyes.

Not now, you think.

Not now.

You give your mother a small smile and nod before reaching up to squeeze the hand on your face. You clear your throat and manage to get out a strained, “I’ll be right back mama.”

She knows. Your mother always knows. So she doesn’t ask any questions when you practically sprint off into the trees.

You walk, walk, walk until you come to the familiar clearing.

You don’t quite make it to the little quiet spot before you breakdown into great heaving sobs. You find yourself panicking as you try to keep quiet and in turn start hiccupping. Not being able to catch a breath.

Suddenly a voice makes you jump and you turn to face its owner while shaking. Tears staining your red, blotchy face.

“Y/N?” John whispers quietly while emerging from the trees.

You lock eyes with him and try to wipe at your face. You know you look a mess.

“I…..I can’t…..it won’t……” you try to speak as you hiccup between sobbing and gasping for breath. You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, you just know that nothing’s coming out. You can feel your chest beginning to hurt from lack of oxygen and how much your nose is running, mixing with your tears.

John approaches you like one would a wild animal. He puts his palms up in front of him and slowly makes his way over to you, “Okay Y/N. I’m gonna need ya ta try ‘nd breathe.”

If you could roll your eyes right now, you would. But instead all you can do is wheeze and grasp at your chest. John seems to be able to read your look however and stops walking when he’s in front of you.

“Sorry, kinda dumb thin’ ta say right?” he quietly scoffs, “I’m gonna take yer hand okay?” he continues and slowly reaches for your shaky hand.

His warm, calloused hand gently takes one of yours off of your chest but he then hesitates before moving again, “If yer not….comfortable or summit….just squeeze ma hand okay?” John doesn’t wait for you to nod or anything, knowing you’re too deep into the panic attack to respond. He just hopes his words made their way past your stuttering cries.

Ever so slowly he raises your palm to his chest, flinching ever so slightly when he places it over his heart. He then gently takes your other hand, which has been scratching marks into your chest like you’re trying to claw the breath from your own body. With that hand he places your palm firmly against your own heart.

“Just….feel ma heart….feel the beats….try’ta focus on it.” John stutters awkwardly. You feel how his hands are kind of clammy, you can tell he's nervous. “Just try’ta match yer breathin’ ta mine.”

You focus on John, focus on his heart beat under your palm. The sound of his breathing and the feel of the soft hair on his chest. You were so close like this, just like when you cleaning up his face. Just like last time he closed his eyes and seemed to relish the warmth of you. When you involuntarily twitch because of your hiccups, you accidently dig your nails gently into John’s chest. His eyes snap open and his mouth drops into a silent gasp.

You go to pull your hand back as an apology but before you can, John grips your hand again and pushes it down a bit harder where it hovers on his chest. He nods and takes a deep breath, signalling for you to try and do the same.

Slowly, slowly, your breathing evens out and even though you’re still crying, you’re no longer struggling to breathe. You have no idea how long you’ve both been stood like this but the only sounds you hear are the birds and the wind in the trees.

“Yer okay.” John said quietly, “Yer okay.”

Without thinking you throw your arms around John’s neck and bury your face into his shoulder. You smell the tobacco of his cigarettes and the wood of the campfire.

For a moment John is stunned. His hands are squished between your bodies where he was holding them before and he shivers due to the contact. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this and for it to happen so suddenly…. it’s thrown him off. After a few more seconds of you crying into his shoulder, he extracts his arms from between you both and wraps them around your waist. He rubs soothing circles onto your back until your tears finally dry and you pull back, keeping your hands on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry John…I…don’t know what came over me.” You half laugh, fully retracting your arms. John does the same and you hug your arms around yourself. “Tha…thank you.” you stutter.

John clears his throat and takes a decent step back before answering, putting his hands on his hips to stop himself from reaching for you again.

“S’fine…..you okay?” he asks.

You sniff and rub your nose with your sleeve. You’re beyond caring about how you must look!

“Yeah. It kind of just….erupted” you laugh while dabbing at your face.

“Kinda happens that way don’t it.” John smiles kindly, “I saw ya running outta camp pretty quickly so figured I’d check here fer ya.”

You stop rubbing your eyes and look at him with a soft smile on your lips.

“You came out here to check on me?” you ask gently and instantly John’s face reddens.

John coughs again before answering, “I weren’t like, watchin’ you or nothin’….ya know I just saw you….umm……like I weren’t out here….stalkin’ ya” he laughs and you join him.

“I didn’t think you were John” you smile broadly, “It was really kind of you to….help me.”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, you have a thought, “Hey, how did you know how to….do that? You know, the heartbeat thing.”

John laughs humourlessly and stretches his hands out in front of him before making his way over to the large shaded tree which seems to be his favourite. However instead of sitting against it, he sits next to it and thumps the floor encouraging you to take a seat. You smile and stroll over to him, taking the place against the tree.

“Funny story really” he begins, “When I ferst join’d the gang, I used’ta have a lotta…nightmares. Like real bad ones. ‘N Arthur used ta do the same thing fer me, ta calm me down so he could sleep.”

You pause before answering.

“John….that’s not a very funny story!” you laugh and John’s face falls into an expression of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, I uh, guess it’s not.” He laughs with you until your sides hurt.

After you manage to calm down, again, you close your eyes and lean your head back against the tree trunk behind you.

“Can I ask what happened? You were jus’ talkin’ ta Sadie and then you were runnin’.” John asks while bringing his knees up for his arms to rest on.

You open your eyes again but keep looking forward towards the sunny sky, “We were talking about my father. Just a nice memory. I guess it was just a matter of time before I exploded.”

John just nods and finds himself watching your face for a split second too long to be considered polite. He notices how despite your swollen eye lids and blotchy complexion from the crying, your eyes themselves still seem stuck in your happy memory. Twinkling with the happiness you once had.

Slowly you meet his gaze and before John can look away, you reach out to gently touch his arm, making him keep eye contact.

“You know…..my pa….he wasn’t actually…..my father. I mean by blood.” You say once you manage to find the words. You pull your hand back but keep your eyes on John’s face. You can tell he’s listening intently. Despite how much Abigail shouts about how he doesn’t pay any attention, you know he hears more than they all think.

“My mother was….I guess, seduced? By a man.” You continue, “And like it happens, he didn’t stick around once she found out she was pregnant with me.”

“So when did she meet yer…..pa?” John questions.

“When I was 6. My mama’s always been a strong-willed woman. Not unlike Abigail in a way” you admit begrudgingly, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice, “Her family wouldn’t take her back once they knew she was having me….but the people she worked for luckily kept her on. She tended to their ranch and went hunting with the other men around.”

“A female ranch-hand huh?” John laughs but you know he means it as a compliment.

It makes you smile.

“Yep. Like I said, strong-willed.” You answer, pausing to have a laugh with John before continuing, “I grew up on that ranch….it was wonderful. From what I remember.”

“I cn imagin’ growin’ up on a ranch would be” John smiles. He always loved working with horses and for a short time before the gang grew, that was something him and Arthur did to make some extra money. He wasn’t a fan of being fixed in one place but for a kid he had no doubt how fun it probably was.

“Then one day, the owners agreed to meet with some city folk who wanted to purchase a ready to go ranch. They wanted the quiet life and all that. Blah blah.” You scoff. “They brought a friend of theirs with them…..someone who wasn’t a stranger to cattle, horses and life on a farm.”

“Yer pa?” John smiles broadly and it makes you happy that he seems so invested in your story.

“Yep. My mama said she was ruthless with him.” You giggle, “Never one to go easy…..she said city folk had no business being ranchers but my pa gave as good as he got. See he’d worked on a farm for a while before moving to the city and he considered himself more than capable. So, my mama challenged him to a race on their best horses.”

“I’m guessing she won?” John asks rhetorically and you nod.

“She won. And he asked her to dinner. Before she could decline, I came back from town with the owners wife and gave my mama a shiny rock I’d found.”

“A rock” John chuckles while frowning and you gently smacked his uninjured leg.

“Hey! That was a really good rock!” you hiss, “Anyway. I gave her the rock and she introduced me…..mama says he was hooked straight away. Performed a crappy magic trick with a coin and insisted I came along to dinner. A picnic in the park……mama said as soon as she saw me on his shoulders, she was in love.”

You stop and break eye contact with John while you take a moment to truly remember the feeling of being on your father’s shoulders. You felt like nothing would ever, could ever, harm you. You’d give anything to feel that invincible again.

“Anyway….point I’m trying to make John….is that Jake Adler wasn’t my blood father…..but he was my pa. And I couldn’t have loved him more.” You finish welling up again and letting one stray tear fall.

You can see that John still doesn’t quite understand your point. You reach for his arm again and when you touch bare skin, his eyes fall to your fingers. Again, he shivers.

“Jack may not be yours by blood….but if you want….” You find yourself struggling around the words you feel like you should say but that part of you doesn’t want to utter, “…..if you want Abigail. It doesn’t have to matter.”

John looks at you for a few seconds before giving you a small smile and touching his hand gently to yours. For a moment you both look at your hands and how the rough pad of his thumb grazes back and forth over one of your knuckles.

“Thats’a nice story Y/N. Real nice….but I ain’t a father and….I ain’t a partner.” John says without looking up at you. Your eyes flick to his face and you feel yourself run cold. You don’t know why but you feel this intense disappointment wash over you. Not because he doesn’t want to be a father to Jack, but that he seems intent on not being with anyone seriously.

You can’t understand why you feel so sick.

You nod your head and move your hand away from his arm and fake the best smile you can when his head snaps up quickly, “That’s….that’s fine as well John. You don’t have to…”

You’re quickly interrupted by John, who’s face is pulled into a grimace of realisation, “To Abigail I mean!” He rushes out so quickly that he almost shouts it. Making you jump.

John clears his throat and scratches at the back of his head before scoffing, “Sorry…I just…I mean I don’t know if I ever want kids…but ya know I…do like women…I mean…I like havin’ women. Not women, women…..a woman….God damn.” John sighs loudly and puts his face in his hands while internally berating himself.

You can’t help but burst out laughing.

John slowly brings his head up from his hands and looks at you with intense mock offence, “Are ya laughin’ at me miss?”

You can’t help it, you snort.

“Oh my God” you groan while burying your own face in your hands. John explodes into laughter and you look up.

After locking eyes with the man next to you, you begin to laugh just as loudly.

After a few moments, you both quieten down and you hold your chest gasping for breath while John holds one of his scabs that’s been tugging too much.

“What I mean is, I don’t think I wanna be with Abigail. Not afta this…I mean we weren’t even that serious before Jack. Then I went away fer a year…”

“Went away?” you interrupt and he shakes his head.

“Not jail or nothin’….but I’ll tell you that story anotha time. Or ask Arthur he’d just LOVE to fill you in.” John hisses angrily. “But what I mean is. There ain’t nothin’…romantic…there anymore. Ya know?”

You can’t help the smile that breaches your face.

“I, uh, yeah I guess I understand what you’re saying.” You say nodding. You look up at the sky and see that time really has moved on since you got here.

“Look I best get back to my mom. I kind of just ran off there” you laugh. “Thank you so much John. It means more than you know that you came to find me.”

John doesn’t answer but the slight tip of his head and small smile says everything you need to know. He gets up and helps you stand by holding out his hand for you to take. Once you’re up John holds onto your hand just a little bit longer before letting go….

“Anytime.” He says in that gruff voice and you can’t help but wonder what that voice would be like whispering in your ear. Maybe late at night. When no one can see you.

You hold your arms out awkwardly in front of you just a little bit and ask quietly, “Can I?”

It takes a second for John to register what you’re asking but as soon as he does, he’s bringing you into his arms for another hug. Before he knows it, he’s taking in a long, deep breath. Filling his senses with the smell of you and only you.

He can’t help but think to himself, has hugging always been this nice?

Has he actually ever had a hug? Yeah, he must have done. Hosea, yeah Hosea used to hug him quite a bit. And he got a few after returning to camp from his year away.

But this? This feeling is something else entirely.

You wind your arms around Johns neck and this time place your face there as well. You feel him physically shudder and for a moment you worry that you’ve actually made him uncomfortable, like maybe he was just being polite by indulging you. But before you can make any move to pull away, his arms tighten around your back.

You’re shorter than John so you’re on your tiptoes but he’s able to keep you steady. You whisper another thank you into his neck and you swear you feel his hands clench into your back where they rest.

You reluctantly pull back and come face to face with John, who’s so damn close.

Panic suddenly engulfs you a little bit and you take a step back. Thankfully John doesn’t seem to notice your moment of worry.

“See you soon then I guess…” you laugh nervously and fiddle with your clothes.

“Um yeah, I uh, like to get out here around noon most days so if yer not out or….” John says quietly, gesturing around the area.

“Yeah I uh, I’m sometimes free around then…” you mention but then you suddenly get embarrassed that maybe you’ve misread his intent, “Oh or I mean I could come later on or earlier if….you like your time or….”

“No! No…I umm” John clears his throat yet again, like he’s trying to bring the right words to the surface, “It’s nice ta have company.”

You hold in your big smile by biting your lip.

“Okay then. Umm, so see ya John.” You say walking deep into the trees before allowing your grin to take over your features.

John turns to look over at the vast openness before him. He sighs but can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his still healing lips.

“Christ.” he whispers before making his own way back to camp.

John wanders into camp and spots you sitting once again with your mother. You look happy again and this makes him smile. Genuinely smile.

“Marston!” Arthur squawks at him as he approaches.

“Arthur” John answers through clenched teeth.

Arthur stops in front of him with his thumbs in the loops of his belt. Oozing cockiness that’d rival Micah’s, “Dutch wants you on guard duty t’night. Says it’s high-time you start pullin’ yer weight around here.” 

“Pullin’ my….? You all know I’s nearly eaten not too long ago right?” John asks angrily. His voice is so quiet as to not alert the others around him that it comes out as a sort of snide hiss.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” Arthur says holding his hands up and backing away, “Or anyone fer tha’ matter. Don’t need another invalid round here.”

John bites his tongue and storms over to his tent. He needs a beer and a sleep before his shift. However after lifting the heavy canvas and letting it drop closed behind him, he realises that sleep may not be on the cards for him…..

“Hey John” Abigail drawls from his bed. Almost entirely naked. 

Once again he lets out in a whisper, “Christ.”

[the-evisceration-station]

Your tags on the archie gifset made me wheeze, omg. Tbh i wouldn't be surprised if riverdale did some kind of tiger king parody since it looks like they're trying to stay current. If the show doesn't make archie fight a tiger, i sure hope someone writes it. And then a lion to complete the song "lions, tigers, and bears oh my"

Hi there, gray faced friendo.

I am almost positive you were kidding. Even if you weren’t kidding, you wanted Archie to fight a tiger. And this...this isn’t really Archie fighting a tiger. It’s just Archie getting mauled by a tiger that escaped from *cough* Bo Exoteric's private zoo.

I only take Dare Me prompts (and this wasn’t even a prompt) but dang it, could not pass up the opportunity for gore and parody fun.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934073

warnings: dead dove: do not eat, graphic gore, heavy bodily harm, lotta blood, possible death

[captainshyguy]

it’s always such bullshit when het couples fuck me up bc im here like ‘c’mon ur better than this miss me w/ that straight nonsense’ but occasionally one with push thru smh 

[mlawleviprice]

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out | Para

Tagging: Levi Price with mentions of Mitch Rutledge & Gage Jimenez, as well as Levi’s family Location: Non-disclosed location in Afghanistan, as well as hospitals in Kabul, Afghanistan & Manhattan, NY Time Frame: Nearly 4 years ago (early April 2014) General Notes: Mlaw Task 11, a flashback to the incident that essentially ended Levi’s military career. Warning for violent, descriptive occurrences & injuries, and mentions of needles.

The mission was straightforward: Extract Morocco’s kidnapped Prime Minister. Intelligence along with extensive and meticulous planning and preparation went into this, like every assignment the Team was tasked with. All of it, thankfully, paid off. The team had recovered the kidnapped government official and gathered what information they needed, and thanks largely in part to Levi’s expert marksmanship, excluding the SEAL team itself and the Prime Minister, there were no survivors.From there, the team prepared for their exit from the extraction site, gathering photographs and surveying the area, getting all of their collected data transferred over to the proper channels on their way back to their base. To cover their tracks in case of being followed, their planning had included red herrings and the team briefly splitting up into thirds. One faction secured the Prime Minister’s safe transport to the American Embassy in Kabul, prior to a safe and discreet return to a safe house in Tangier.

Levi’s friend, Gage, had been a part of the faction who transported the Prime Minister while Levi and their friend, Mitch, were in the red herring factions, departing on foot at first, and then eventually swapping rides in a couple of vehicles, before ending up on foot again. They had several miles of walking to do before they would get to their base camp. The terrain was dry mostly flat, and with them trekking late at night, it was colder than the day, but spending long stretches traveling in different vehicles, and a bulk of the mission in stealthy but uncomfortable positions, Levi valued the opportunity to walk with his friends. Mitch brought up having a rematch on a card game they had two nights ago and while Levi said he wouldn’t mind, Gage protested.

“I’m not playing another card game with you, Rutledge. Your ass cheats.”

Mitch ‘s face screwed up in confusion, “It was blackjack. How did I cheat?”

“Rigged the deck,” Gage retorted.

Levi and Mitch both pointed out, “You shuffled and dealt most of the games!”

While Gage still insisted that Mitch somehow cheated and some of their brothers in the humvee rolled heir windows down to chim in, Levi laughed a bit at the harmless argument that ensued. They continued on, everyone a level of relief and elation for a job well done that night. From outside the humvee, Gage asked how close they were to base and one of the guys checked with their GPS system before telling him they were roughly a mile out.

Taking the information, Gage announced to their team that he was going to run a ways ahead. “Gotta take a leak,” to which he received an array of innocuous jeering that soon died away as he began jogging far ahead of everyone.

“If you miss and get it on yourself you’re sleeping outside,” one person joked.

Another teased, “Watch for other snakes. Yours doesn’t bite back!”

As the jokes died down, Mitch and Levi picked up their own conversation, talking of plans for once they returned home to New York; Mitch was giving Levi a hard time about celebrating - or not celebrating - his birthday the previous week, but Levi hadn’t been swayed to celebrate. The most he was willing to do was go get a beer.

“Don’t need a cake ‘n I really don’t want any ‘a you tryna sing to me,” he said, drawing a laugh from his buddy.

And then it happened.

On its own, the triggering of the land mine wouldn’t have been as detrimental to the group as a whole. The fact that the humvee was what set it off, however, created a greater reaction than a lone misstep would have caused. One sonic boom, immediately followed another - the IED igniting the gas tank and causing the humvee to violently dismantle and set off even more, smaller explosions of their equipment and weapons blowing apart.

For a moment, it felt like everything then happened in slow motion. Heat and shockwaves knocked Levi and Mitch off their feet as glass, metal and shrapnel flew in every direction. Their close proximity rattled Levi’s eardrums badly enough that the only thing he could hear in the moment was a neverending, high-pitch ringing - the kind of sound they say only dogs can hear. He rolled to get on his feet, but fiery, needle-like spasms shot through his abdomen, anchoring him to the dirt again. Whether it was just as bad or worse than that, he wasn’t sure but as he started to double in on himself in agony, he saw it. How he hadn’t felt it when it happened, he wasn’t sure of that either but a long, wide and flat piece of metal shot through his calf, piercing muscle and bone.

The realization made the pain register in his brain but as much as he tried to cry out, the sound seemed to get stuck in his dirt-coated throat. His breaths were quick and shallow as he turned his head in the direction of the humvee. The bulk of it had still been intact to where you could tell what it once was, but much of it was engulfed in smoke and flames. Two of the tires were blown out, causing it to rest lop-sided, radiating gaseous fumes. It didn’t take anyone needing to say out loud that none of his brothers inside were still alive. Still fighting through the agony, Levi’s head lolled in the other direction, his vision going blurry but still able to make out the silhouette of Mitch’s body in a heap, a few yards away from him. Levi tried to make his voice work again, to call out to his friend, and hope for some sort of response back to know that he was alive, and okay. But what came from him was coughing and a burning feeling, like being forced to down too much scotch at once. He tried to fight against everything going with his body, the searing throughout his core, the literal stab in his left calf and his throat full of dirt; the relentless ringing in his ears and smaller cuts from the glass and being knocked off of his feet were nothing compared to the rest but he couldn’t get up and was barely hanging onto consciousness himself.

He looked up at the night sky, trying everything in his power - which wasn’t very much - to numb himself from everything his body was feeling. His eyes were focusing on the stars. It was something he didn’t see much of, living in New York City. The drop in population hadn’t changed how illuminated the boroughs were with all their billboards, buildings, headlights and neon. Out here, however, there wasn’t any of that. The only light was from the sky above, stars dotting the sky and a half moon. But the night sky was growing darker at a rapid pace. Even Gage’s face suddenly hovering over him was tough to make out.

And in a matter of seconds, the stars were gone. The moon was gone. The lights were all out.

They came back in full force, to the point where they were practically blinding for Levi, forcing his eyes shut again. That was usually the case when you regained consciousness inside a hospital. People were speaking around him but it was like listening from deep underwater. Hands were strapping masks and cords to him, shoving needles under his skin and attempting to draw responses from him but to no avail before the darkness overcame him again.

It went on like this for Levi for exactly how long, he didn’t know. When he finally came to for more than a few seconds or a few minutes, his hearing had improved but wasn’t completely restored. The only clue he had that he was back in New York was the fact that his sisters and Mee-Maw were spread about the room. Naomi was asleep with her head in Esther’s lap, or what of it that wasn’t occupied by Esther’s pregnancy bump. Mee-Maw was sitting directly beside Levi’s bed with her hand in his, and Jemma occupied another chair on the other side of his bed, hands folded and her head bowed in a prayer position. A recollection of what exactly happened back in Afghanistan wasn’t coming to him, but when he stirred and reflexively gripped Mee-Maw’s hand, it seemed to awaken everyone else in the room.

Mee-Maw breathed a sigh of relief while Naomi sprang up from Esther’s lap to come to his bedside, her eyes already filled with fresh tears. Jemma was offering her hand as comforting a gesture as she could without disturbing his bandages or the IV needle. Esther stayed where she was, refusing to look in his direction. Although Naomi’s voice cracked his name, Mee-Maw was the first to actually speak up, “How’re you feelin’, Leviticus?”

His voice hadn’t quite come at first, just a rasping, light wheeze that wouldn’t go away, even after several attempts to clear his throat. His face tensed from the failed attempts but Jemma brought a hand up to his shoulder, “The doctors said it might be a little while. You inhaled a lotta dust and dirt, and they had a tube in your throat durin’ the surgeries.”

Levi’s forehead creased. “Surgeries?” he mouthed, instantly bringing an anxious expression to Jemma’s face; her gaze darted from Levi’s eyes to Mee-Maw and Naomi on his left. But as he slowly turned his head to look at them and hope someone would give him answers, he got it, or at least one of it. While his right leg lay fully intact beneath the thin hospital blankets, the blankets and sheets lay flat where half of his left leg should have been. Despite trying to keep an outer calm, his heart monitor was giving away his internal panic. The more he tried to maintain his resolve outwardly, the higher Jemma, Naomi and Mee-Maw’s worries seemed to spike.

Mee-Maw did her best to explain, “They didn’t tell us much ‘a what happened to you. Said somethin’ they didn’t account for happened and… you got hurt real bad out there. They couldn’t… there was nothin’ they could do to save it… too much had been done. They had to operate on your insides too…”

Although he knew Mee-Maw was doing her best to be strong as she explained this, and Levi was doing his best to take it in and accept everything right then and there, he was struggling. If Mee-Maw’s voice wasn’t already difficult enough to hear just beside him, it was sounding even more distant, the more she explained his situation to him. The wet sniffs and quiet sobs from Naomi and Jemma gave millisecond distractions each time the noise made it to his ears, but the shock of having lost his leg, having been operated on, having to be back in New York already all overrode his family’s personal reactions and attempts to console him. Flashes of memories of what happened were vague, yet not vague enough to keep him from wondering what had happened to Mitch? And Gage? Were they alive? Were they back in New York as well?

His head was throbbing, and the rest of his body ached through the painkillers. He didn’t know if trying to piece together his memories was making his head hurt worse or not but a culmination of everything since he had woken up was quickly getting to him. He shook his head while pulling his hands away from his family. With the way he was positioned in the bed, lowering his head felt too much like doing a crunch, and consequently gave an unsettling pull to the stitched incision across his abdomen. Jaw clenched, he brought his large hands up to his face, covering it almost entirely. He couldn’t settle his mind on any one thought. What was to happen to him? His ability to walk again? His insides? His life and his military status? What happened to his brothers?

What.happened?

He wasn’t attentive as Mee-Maw quietly urged his sisters to give him some time alone. The shuffling of feet and chairs only barely registered to him when they started to excuse themselves. It wasn’t until he thought he was alone that he lowered his hands away, palms soaked with the warm tears he’d hid, that he realized not all of them had yet gone.

Esther was standing over him, shoulders squared, lips pressed in a firm line and her fingers curled into tight fists. As much as Levi wanted to take his eyes off of her, something wouldn’t let him. The two stared each other down, even when there was a crack in Esther’s steely composure.

“I really wanna hate you right now. Or at least punch you in your face, you know that?” she admitted through gnashed teeth. As soon as she stopped speaking she tried to press her mouth shut again but her lips were trembling and tears were welling in her eyes.

Levi didn’t say anything back to her, even as a few fresh tears rolled down his own face and stuck in the stubble along his jaw. Instead, he turned his left hand over, palm side up and lifted it to cuff one of Esther’s wrists. She lifted her hand and fitted it into his while the two remained silent until Esther felt composed enough to let him alone. In her leave, she carefully wiped her eyes several times, and then joined her family out to the nearby waiting room.

Still overwhelmed by everything, and heavily medicated from the painkillers, Levi grappled with his emotions, his questions, and his consciousness until the lattermost beat out the other two, pulling him back into more rest for the time being.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Darling Please Don't Go (I can't be alone)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/1c7u4Y3 by alchemistsarego For as many times as it has happened before, it never became any easier waking up beneath a building. Tim had launched forward, slamming his head into concrete even before he really registered that he was awake at all. Falling back down hurt just as badly, head spinning as his ears rang loudly. Trying to calm himself, Tim breathed deeply only to find that he couldn’t. His chest was… There was something on it, something far too heavy. It could very well be what he had just hit his head on but when Tim tried to shift it off of him, it didn’t so much as budge. Tim couldn’t breathe, and as every super genius knows, you need to breathe to keep being a super genius. “Crap…” Tim wheezed. Whumptober 2024, Day 24, Radiation Poisoning - Collapsed Building Words: 7898, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 69 of What's A Little Bafam Without A Whole Lotta Trauma?, Part 1 of Whumptober 2024 Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Tim Drake, Kon-el Kent - Character, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Whumptober 2024, Day 24, radiation poisoning, collapsed building, Whump, Tim Drake Whump, Kon Whump, Implied TimKon if you squint, crush injuries, broken ribs, lung injury, Kryptonite, Vomiting Blood, Near Death Experiences, x 2, Just for funsies, Past Child Neglect, Abandonment Issues, Hospitalisation read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/1c7u4Y3

[alnilam-fr]

sixteen tons, part two

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @tirnaillclan@ianlestraud-fr @starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar@majestyrising @almaren-fr @intergalacticsock

I was born one mornin' when the sun didn't shine I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine I loaded sixteen tons of number nine coal And the straw boss said "Well, a-bless my soul"

Baleen grunted as she limped up to the mineshaft, buckling iron-plated gloves around her talons. Her head and shoulder still throbbed, and she flicked her ears with irritation as the bells struck a single, deep note.

“Welcome back,” said Trench, the leader of Baleen’s mining crew. She blinked at Baleen for a moment from behind her dirt-crusted goggles, and then turned to distributing the kunzite clusters. “It’s a long shift today, so we’ll be using the lamps in shifts,” she announced. “Only three lit at a time. First lamps today are Baleen, Albatross, and Katabat.”

Baleen took her kunzite, carefully snapping two of the soft pink crystals in half and placing them inside her lantern. A soft glow illuminated the heavy predawn mist, and the Guardian smiled a little as she held the rosy lantern up to the level of her eyes for a few moments.

 “Pull yourself together, Baleen,” Trench hummed, her voice rising in pitch as she fanned her feathers, a twilight purple brightening to lavender at the edges. She adjusted her goggles and dove down into the mine, her tail flicking side to side behind her.

 “What a snake,” breathed Katabat, the only other Guardian on the team. He stood slimmer than Baleen, but nearly as tall, and was known for his wormwood-bitter mouth. Today, though, Albatross and Mikhal had no protest for him.

 “You should have rested longer,” said Mikhal, briefly tapping a silver wing against Baleen’s flank as she disappeared into the gaping darkness of the mineshaft. Baleen rumbled deep in her throat and took a breath, gathering up her bruise-aching bones and squeezing herself into the shaft like a starving mouth.

 “I hear Kraken’s old father is sickening,” said Katabat softly as they worked to pry chunks of a silvery ore out of the side of the mountain. “And his son’s too drunk on silks and richness to give a damn.”

 “Drunk on other things, too,” Baleen growled with a curl of her lip. Her muscles rippled beneath her blubber as she pulled loose a piece as long as her forearm, adding it to the mine cart. A twinge of pain ran through her shoulder at the movement, and she gave a muffled hiss between her teeth.

 “Old Leviathan has a better home than most of us, though,” Albatross said, holding his lantern higher to cast a dawnglow radiance over the tunnel shaft. The misty silver ore glimmered in the walls, and for a moment there was a kind of beauty in the angled shadows and the thick dust winking in the pale pink lanternlight.

 For a time, they worked in silence. The echoes of a mining song came through the walls from another tunnel, and Mikhal swung her pick to the beat. After a while, Katabat began to cough, his tail twisting as he wheezed. The lantern fell from his hand, and Trench sighed.

 “Mikhal, take the lamp. Here,” she added gruffly, handing Katabat a waterskin. He nodded weakly and took a swallow of the tinny water before passing it to the other workers.

 “How’s Nor’wester?” Baleen asked, wiping away a trickle of water from the corner of her mouth. She screwed the cap onto the waterskin and returned it to Trench, her muscles screaming as she began to work again after the brief respite.

 There was a sudden hush in the mineshaft. Albatross dropped his shovel with a dull clang that echoed up and down the tunnel until it turned to a kind of distorted booming, way down deep in the volcano’s heart.

 “He-” Mikhal began.

 Trench closed her eyes, her expression unreadable in the dim pink haze. “He’s dead,” she said. “Blood infection from his shattered leg.”

 “We don’ know what his family are gonna do,” said Katabat, his voice still hoarse. He went back to chipping away at the wall, squeezing his eyes closed for the briefest of moments. “Yonder isn’t going to compensate.”

 “Why not?” asked Albatross as he picked up his shovel.

 “Says it doesn’t count as a ‘work-related accident’ to him. His damned sister won’t do anything about it either. Where’s Baleen going to?”

 “Baleen!” snapped Trench. The Guardian had left her lamp on the tunnel floor and was squeezing back up the narrow shaft, tail swinging side to side. “Baleen, come back here!”

 “Well,” Katabat said after a moment, “I reckon I’ll tag along.”

If you see me comin', better step aside A lotta men didn't, a lotta men died One fist of iron, the other of steel If the right one don't a-get you, then the left one will

 She found the mine bosses in a great-windowed room, the dark fog swirling outside. Yonder and Celeste, Skydancer siblings all lean grayhound edges as perfect as snow crystals. Kraken, pouring dark wine from a decanter and simpering at white-feathered Celeste. Archipelago, a small Coatl with cruel eyes like dead things trapped in amber.

 As Baleen burst into the room, the four dragons looked up. Archipelago sang a few fluting notes of surprise and set down her dainty honey-laced roll, eyes darting at once around the room. (They said she had been a soldier, long ago in lands still lit up by the sun, but the mining business was so much more profitable.)

 “Yonder,” rumbled Baleen, low and soft like far-away summer thunder. She bared her dust-darkened teeth and flared her wings across the hall, casting a long shadow across the table. Celeste, Archipelago, and Kraken flinched, and Kraken dropped the decanter he had been holding in his talons.

“Should we do something?” breathed Albatross to Katabat in the mirror-decked hall outside. Baleen glanced at them and shook her head.

Yonder curled his lips, revealing a row of needle-sharp teeth. His antennae danced in the air, and he gave a soft sound of amusement as Baleen stepped closer. “Guards,” he said, lazily. “Please, Baleen, control yourself. You’ll want some more pay to support your grandmother on, I think? I’ll up your salary by, say, ten percent, and then we can put all this behind us-”

Slowly, the Skydancer fell silent, and the tip of his feathered tail flicked as he drew his rapier. “Guards,” he snapped, and drummed his talons on the tabletop. “Get up,” he hissed to Kraken, who was scrambling on the rug to pick up the shattered pieces of the decanter. In the low light, the spilled rosehip wine looked not unlike blood.

 “The guards are already dead,” boomed Baleen. She beat her wings once, and the great thundering of her wings swept Yonder’s papers off his desk. “The ones who were still loyal to you, anyhap, which was fewer than you might think.” A quick smirk spread over her face as she arched her neck. “Seems no one likes you, rich boy.”

 “I’ll have you thrown into the Fortress of Ends for the next ten eons,” hissed Yonder, prowling around the table with his wings spread and quaking. Baleen smiled with red wet arrowhead teeth, and then she slammed her bulk into his side and sent him sprawling across the floor.

 Someone screamed as Baleen pounced onto the Skydancer, bones snapping under her talons as she drove her claws through his downy feathers. For a few minutes, she could feel the flicker-beat of his heart, as though his blood were trying to tear itself from his skin, and then Yonder cried out once more and fell silent. Baleen stepped back, blood cooling dark red on her hooked claws, and swatted Yonder’s rapier aside.

 The Guardian’s head snapped up and she stepped over Yonder’s body, her broad tail lashing side to side. Archipelago threw open one of the great bay windows behind the desk and squeezed out, leaving a puff of feathers in her wake. Kraken screamed again and dived underneath the table, hitting his head. (Baleen curled her lip in disgust as the Coatl clumsily tried to force himself into the space between the table and the floor, his movements already alcohol-blurred.)

 “Calm yourself!” shouted Celeste. She hung for a moment, indecisive, and then dived forwards to snatch up Yonder’s fallen rapier. Baleen leapt out of the way with a roar as Celeste stabbed for the soft joint at the base of her wing and clubbed the mine boss with her tail, sending the older dragon sprawling. Before Celeste had time to recover, Baleen was on top of her, all snapping teeth and the reek of mine-dust and blood. She snarled as Celeste bit down on the underside of her throat, blood thundering in her ears like the beating of waves on the obsidian shoreline.

 Beneath the table, Kraken whimpered and glanced at the window where Archipelago had fled. He had not been a small dragon in his youth, and he had grown softer and fatter as he rubbed elbows with the wealthy mine bosses. He blearily eyed the window gap, bracing himself to make a rush from the cover of the table.

 And then Celeste slammed into the table, her head hanging at an angle with blood dripping between her needle-teeth. Baleen bellowed her reckless tidal-wave roar again and pounced onto the table, swatting Celeste’s body to the side. The wood cracked beneath the Guardian’s massive weight, and she grabbed the shrieking Kraken’s tail and pulled him out into the open.

“Your father misses you,” she said roughly, throwing him onto his back and curling her lips. He stank of amaranth beer and spoiled honey. “Get out. Tell Archipelago, if you see her, to never, ever come back.”

“They’ll hunt you down,” coughed Kraken.

She turned to the desk, pulling open drawers at random, and found a bulging pouch of treasure. Emptying a few coins into her palm, heavy and golden as honeycomb, she jingled the pouch thoughtfully.  “I think not,” she said softly, her voice falling once more into a low steady rumbling. “I can buy my way over Flight borders with this, far enough away that your police squads won’t be able to catch me. Maybe I’ll buy a few gene scrolls.” She twitched her tail and then suddenly rammed her head into one of the windows, shattering it into a rain of glass.

 Kraken threw his wings over his head to avoid the flying shards, and when he cautiously lowered them Baleen had already shouldered her way out through the broken window frame.

You load sixteen tons, what’da ya get? Another day older and deeper in debt Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go I owe my soul to the company store

“What now?” asked Mikhal. She staggered a little, sickened by the upwelling of greed and fear from the meeting room, and Katabat put a steadying talon on her shoulder. Albatross breathed deeply, looking around at the grandeur of Yonder’s brightly lit and mirrored quarters.

“We rebuild,” he said. “And we keep a place ready if Baleen ever comes home.”

“I don’t think she will,” Katabat said, as Kraken scrambled past them with wine splattered over his feathers and his silks. Katabat aimed a swipe at the chubby Coatl, who skittered to the side and collided with a wall on his way out.

“I don’t believe so either,” Albatross conceded. “It isn’t safe.”

“But we can do better,” a sudden voice behind them said. Twilight-feathered Trench, her blue eyes gleaming, had followed them at last out of the mines.  She sang a few notes, voice roughened by years beneath the earth, and chuckled. 

“There’s a crowd gathered outside, ready for a little revolution.” 

[themusicplayedherlife]

Unrequited (Part 1)

pairings: Crushing!Reader x Steve Rogers; Implied!Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes; Reader x Bucky Barnes

characters: Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers (mention), Bucky Barnes

word count: 1,619

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some angst?,

a/n: yes, hello, i think bucky and you can be amazing friends if you’d just talk to him! 

summary: College!AU You and Bucky aren’t exactly friends. The best way you can describe one another is a friend of a friend–acquaintances, at best. What happens when the two of you decide to team up and help one another get the person of their dreams, who happen to be your respective best-friends? A lotta trouble, that’s what.

Prologue||All Parts||Next

You really were trying to study, really. You had been doing so good at the beginning until Steven Grant Rogers entered the cafe, with those beautiful blue eyes of his and that friendly smile that charmed the living daylights out of you, and distracted you. It’s as if your eyes had a mind of their own and followed his every single movement, leaving your book on the glass table completely forgotten.

Although he didn’t show up to the party, he and his friend Sam appeared in full work clothes after you texted him about Bucky to pick him up. He apologized for not being able to show up, explaining that their internship had them staying in the office longer than planned. He also promised he’d be the first one to arrive to your next party, if you had one again. Not that you would. Ever. Planning one party was enough. But the thought is what counts, right?

“You’re staring.” Natasha, who is sitting across from you, doesn’t even bother to look up at you, already knowing you were watching Steve carefully. It didn’t take a genius to know what could entrap you so easily.

“So what if I am?” You try to hide the blush overcoming your cheeks by concealing them with your palms, eyes drifting back to your best-friend, who is staring at her computer screen.

“You really want to know?” The corner of her lips raises in amusement, and without waiting for you to answer, she answers her own question for you, “Well, one day he’s going to catch you staring at him and you’re going to feel like a total creep which will then lead to you withdrawing into your shell and once again losing all the progress you’ve made befriending–”

“I didn’t ask for a play by play! In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t answer your question at all!” You scrunch your nose in humiliation, looking around the cafe’s open patio hoping no one heard her.

She chuckles, finally looking up at you from her computer screen. “Why don’t you just ask him out? You’ll never know if he’s interested in you if you don’t make the first move.”

You groan, “Because it’s embarrassing!”

“What’s embarrassing?” You automatically freeze when someone familiar cuts into your conversation. That someone obviously being Steve because life absolutely loves toying with you. You suppress a squeak, looking up to find him smiling down at you. His blonde hair is neatly combed, large blue eyes looking down at you with boyish mischief, a cup of tea in hand and his book bag slung over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly, shooting Natasha a quick glare when she nudges your shin with her foot.

Natasha chuckles again, before nodding in agreement with you. Steve furrows his eyebrows together, momentarily confused before smiling once more. “I see. You ladies mind if we join you?”

At the mention of we, you realize that Steve isn’t alone. His best-friend, Bucky, is standing behind him, a styrofoam cup in one hand and a little baggie in the other. He looks downright tired: eyelids half closed and hiding blue-gray eyes from the world, and lips pressed tightly together. You didn’t know him all that well if you’re to be honest. The two of you have never really engaged in a conversation before without friends around. The only thing you knew about Bucky (other than him and Steve knowing one another since they were kids) was that he had a crush on Natasha. And you only really knew that because on the one night he talked to you without your friends around, he was drunk and chose to confess his feelings for your friend in his drunken stupor.

“Of course not,” Natasha smirks in your direction before plastering on a sweet smile for the two handsome males.

Steve looks at you for permission to sit down, unlike Bucky who immediately plops down on the empty seat next to your red-haired friend. He waits until you nod timidly to take the seat next to you, smiling ever so softly at you.

The rest of your small study session includes the two men, Steve–and occasionally Bucky–helping. Apparently, they had taken the same class you and Natasha are struggling with last quarter with the same professor; they knew first hand how eccentric and strange Professor Pym could be.

But you find yourself distracted again, barely paying attention to what Bucky is trying to explain. Ever since the party, anytime Bucky and Natasha were near you, you found yourself watching their interactions. This time being no different. You watch as he sneaks glances at Natasha. The way his eyes would watch her warmly and how he would dart his eyes away any time she would turn to him. How he makes sure that no matter what they’re doing, his fingers would graze her skin in a feather-like touch.

You don’t allow yourself to miss a single interaction, except you do. You miss the most important part; you miss the eyes that are studying you occasionally, analyzing your every reaction.

Learning was part of the college experience. The only problem was that you didn’t really learn anything, you just memorized whatever the hell the professor wanted you to. The only thing you were eager and interested in learning about was everything in your Art History curriculum. Anything outside of that fell into memorization.

Bucky was one of the few that actually didn’t memorize, he learned. Natasha had told you he was practically a walking encyclopedia, knowing everything and all; and if he didn’t, all he had to do was read about the subject, talk to a professor in that field, and he’d learn it. You had also seen it first hand the other day when he and Steve joined you during your study session at the cafe.

You’re jealous of that, wishing you could also learn and not just be memorizing; it sucks.

“I’m seriously not getting any of this!” You groan, slamming your book close.

“Ask Bucky,” was all Natasha replied with before going back to her reading.

You would if you were close to him. But Bucky didn’t really acknowledge you until he had to. And you knew that if you were to ask him, he’d probably snuff you. The only chance he’d agree is if…

“Can you ask him for me, please?” you beg, clapping your hands together.

“You’re not a child. You can ask him yourself.”

“He won’t do it if I ask him!”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “And what makes you think he’ll do it if I ask?”

A part of you wants to tell her about Bucky’s feelings, but another part of you, your good conscience, tells you it isn’t your secret to tell and plus, you promised him you wouldn’t tell anyone! You end up shrugging, your good conscience having won. “‘Cause you guys are friends. Bucky and I are only friends by association.”

She snorts, taking out her phone, “Fine. I’ll ask but if he says no…” You wait eagerly, watching her type away on her phone. After a few seconds, she sets her phone down. “There, now we just–” The look of surprise that crosses her sharp features when her phone flashes is all you need as confirmation that Bucky had replied and a hint to what he sent. “He said yes.”

“I told you,” you smile smugly.

She rolls her gray eyes. “He said to meet him at the library at three. He has a room booked.”

“How in the world did he manage that?” Normally, the waiting list for the private study rooms was booked solid for a month. As soon as a slot opened up, it’s booked in a matter of seconds.

She’s replying back to Bucky, most likely carrying on a different conversation now that they had each other’s attention. “He works at the library,” she says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To her, perhaps, but not to you. “He gets privileges.”

“I knew I should’ve applied for Work Study. What time is it, anyway?”

The corner of her lips raises into a devilish grin, “Less than a quarter to three.”

“Shit!” You quickly pack up your things, shoving them into your bag. “I’m gonna be late!”

Finding Bucky proves to be easier than you thought, not only did Natasha text you the number of the private room but Bucky was just clocking out of the reception area when you entered the library completely out of breath.

He notices you before you notice him, his eyebrows raising as far as they can, mild amusement in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you wheeze, bending your knees and resting your palms on them, trying desperately to get yourself together. “Perfectly fine.”

He nods, watching you. “Well, come on then.” He begins to walk towards the elevator, only stopping once to see if you were following, which you were. You aren’t about to take his help for granted after all! Even if he was only doing it to impress Natasha.

“How well do you know the material?” Bucky asks as he slides the key card that unlocks the private study room he had booked for himself and was willing to share with you.

“Not well at all. I’m really bad at chemistry,” you admit, following him into the white room. It’s your first time inside one, and you had always wondered what it looked like. There’s a long table situated in the middle of the room for four people, a television with a DVD and VHS player placed underneath it, a blackboard on one side of the wall and a white board on the side you entered from.

If Bucky notices your gawking, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he sets his bag down on the table and grabs a marker, writing something on the board.

Intro to Chemistry 101

“Then I guess we’re starting from the beginning.”

Tag List (if you wanna be added/removed, send me an ask!): @hollycornish @writingmarcy @marvelgoateecollection

[abiik]

oh my gOD i just remembered –