#MY JIMMIES ...ARE ENTIRELY RUSTLED

[tera-starstorm]

i cannot wait for g*nshin im//pact to die i want it gone and will piss on its grave

[fear-is-truth]

ride — jimmy darling x f!reader

𝜗𝜚 requested by @jazz-berry

content warning — nsfw, mdni. unprotected p in v

THE SUMMER NIGHT WAS ALIVE with the sounds of chirping crickets, the air warm, heavy with the scent of grass and earth. the crowds had mostly dispersed, leaving the campsite quiet, with only the distant sounds of the last few stragglers lingering in the air. you made your way through the tall grass, its tips ticking against your knees.

then, you spotted him, broad shoulders slightly slumped as he walked with his cap shoved low just above his eyes. his gait was slow, tired — a long day of performing weighing on him. still, he looked beautiful, the moonlight catching on the sharp angles of his face, softening them. a smile spread across your face as you hurried forward, heart fluttering in anticipation.

“jimmy,” you called out, reaching out to grab his hand.

he stopped in his tracks and turned to you, the tired expression instantly melting into a big smile — dimples on each side of his cheeks, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

“hey dollface, whatcha’ doing out here?” the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked at you.

you didn’t answer right away, just grinned and took his hand in yours. “come on,” you insisted, tugging him along.

tall grass rustled as you led him away from his caravan, your steps light despite the uneven ground. you didn’t tell him where you were going, but he didn’t ask, trusting you entirely. the carousel stood like a forgotten dream in the middle of the empty grounds, its frame weathered but still holding onto its magic. it was a place you’d both passed by countless times, a relic of a world that felt far away from your own. tonight, it felt like it belonged to you.

a slow smile spread across jimmy’s face as he caught on. his grip on your hand tightened briefly before he let go, his confidence returning as he strode toward the booth. you watched as he flipped a few switches and pushed a lever; in an instant, the carousel roared to life.

the lights flickered on, twinkling like stars against the dark sky. the sound of crickets died down as you approached, their song being drowned out by the whimsical music that drifted from the old ride. the colors painted on the carousel’s horses shone like stained glass under the glow, their worn surfaces holding onto the remnants of childhood wonder. jimmy turned to you, his hand extended in an exaggerated flourish, his smile playful and charming. “care for a ride, missy?”

you laughed softly, slipping your hand into his. “thought you’d never ask.”

he helped you onto one of the double-person sleds, climbing in beside you. the carousel began to move, slowly at first, the world tilting ever so slightly as the ride picked up speed. the music grew louder, drowning out everything but the sound of your laughter and the creak of the machinery. you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and placed it on your chest, over your heart. wanting him to feel the rapid beat, the evidence of your excitement.

“feel that?” you asked a bit breathlessly, voice trembling slightly. he nodded, and with a gentle push, you guided his hand downward, towards your waist. he could feel the outline of the corset beneath your tweed coat, the laces loosened, hinting at the secrets within. his fingers meandered up, feeling the swell of your breasts.

“i’ve got a surprise for you,” you murmured, unbuttoning your coat, slipping it off and tossing it aside. the night air kissed your skin, a pleasant chill. goosebumps blossoming across your arms. the pink satin hugged your bodacious curves, the intricate lace and boning accentuating your figure in an enticing way you knew would drive him wild. the sight of your ample chest pushed up by the tight fabric made his pupils dilate and darken, his gaze raking shamelessly over you.

“on my lap, sweetheart,”

he managed to groan out. you eagerly obliged, throwing one leg over hip lap, straddling him. the feel of his hard-on through his trousers made you shiver with anticipation.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, in awestruck wonder. his lips found the column of your neck, nibbling and sucking, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake. you tilted your head to the side, giving him better access as his hands drifted down, cupping your breasts, squeezing the flesh lightly. the carousel’s motion rocked the sled, and you could feel the swell of his erection press against your thigh, and the need between your legs only intensified, that familiar warm, pulsating desire.

jimmy kissed you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth, as the carousel begun to spin faster, the music growing to a crescendo. his fingers clumsily undid the clasp at the back of your corset, loosening them further until he freed your breasts from its satiny confines. jimmy’s hands continued their exploration, cupping your breasts, teasing your hardened nipples. you moaned into his mouth, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. grinning into the kiss, he shoved his tongue past your lips, roving against your hard palate before finally pulling back to allow you to catch some air.

he reached down, fingers brushing against your core, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. “no panties? you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” whining, you rocked against him, seeking more. his calloused thumb found the wetness between your legs, dipping into the heat, stroking it with finesse. you arched your back, head falling against his shoulder, a low moan escaping. with his other hand, he unzipped his jeans while you pushed aside your panties. his cock sprang free from its confines, tall and proud, the tip decorated with a pearly bead of pre-cum. with a deep inhale, you lowered yourself onto him, the delicious sensation of his thickness filling you. the music in your eardrums seemed to swell, as though the night was celebrating your union.

warm lips trailed down your neck, planting gentle kisses on your collarbone, neck, breasts. fingers tangled in his dark curls, you dipped your head slightly to capture his lips with yours—the sweetness of juicy fruit gum invading your taste buds. a series of moans and whimpers passed between your lips like clandestine love songs meant for you only. the motion of the carousel rocked you both, the gentle sway working in perfect harmony with your thrusts as though the machine was conspiring with you to heighten the experience. your thighs are growing weak but the pleasure mounted, the edge of release looming closer.

finally, the carousel reached its peak, crescendoing with your passion, and you both let out a simultaneous cry as you found release. you collapsed against jimmy’s chest, your hearts pounding in unison as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you entwined in post-coital pleasure. wearing a lopsided smirk, he tilted your chin up, before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[povlvr]

9. A Sticky Situation | YLGSE

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky x Baker Reader

Summary: With two unwanted guests in your bakery & no one to help you, you need to work out how to get yourself out of a sticky situation.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, some inappropriate thoughts, mob life, guns, can you say kidnapping if the victim isn't a child?

A/N: I can't apologise enough for how long this has taken to finish, I've been so busy at work my brain hasn't had the capacity to be creative.

Graphics by @firefly-graphics

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… as you were taking stock of supplies underneath the counter you heard the bell ring, popping your head up to tell whoever it was that you were closing you noticed the empty bakery save for the two gentlemen in pinstripe suits making their way over to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up at the sight of them, you remained crouched behind the counter reaching for your phone in your pocket, without even hesitating you called James & somehow managed to shakily mute his end & put the speakerphone on, before slipping it into your apron so that he could hopefully hear what was happening.

You hoped it was nothing & that you were overreacting but seriously why did you tell him to stop following you? & why the hell did he listen? It didn’t take Einstein to work out these two guys were not here for a cupcake & coffee, they didn’t look like they belonged in your pink frilly bakery, their entire auras were dark & menacing & your gut told you they wanted to harm you.

Your intuitions had kept you safe to this point living alone in a city overrun by mobsters & you never ignored them, your dad always taught you that being rude & keeping yourself safe was an easy trade off, if your instincts let you down you could always apologise later but you couldn’t do that if you ended up in harms way by ignoring them for the sake of being polite. 

You hoped & prayed to all the gods, even if you didn’t believe in them, that Bucky would stay on the line long enough to realise you were potentially in danger. You were not a damsel in distress by any means, but you knew your limits & you knew not to mess with these men, precariously you rose from behind the counter to greet them.

‘Afternoon gentlemen, we’re actually closing now so I can’t offer you any coffee, but I could rustle you up a pastry if you’re in the market.’ You tried to sound somewhat confident addressing the two men, plastering on a sweet smile with the attempt to kill them with kindness, although you were sure that old adage didn’t count when your adversaries most definitely carried guns.

With a cold chuckle the tall slender visitor, who looked like he only appeared when the sun went down, piped up, amused at how clueless you were, ‘We ain’t here for food darlin’.’ You noticed his suit hung off his slim frame like it had once fit, his translucent pale skin & hollow cavernous eyes were haunting to look at. 

‘Oh … well then how can I help you fella’s?’ No matter how much you detested it, playing dumb usually helped plump up men’s egos, if they underestimated you knew there would be a chance you could delay whatever they were here for, at least long enough for Bucky to get to you. 

The two unwanted guests looked at each other not quite believing their luck that Bucky Barnes hadn’t prepared his girl for the inevitability that one of his enemies would come for her & even worse leaving her vulnerable to the wolves at his door. 

‘Thing is darlin’ Jimmy & I heard a few things on the streets & wanted to get to the bottom of it, so we thought we’d keep an eye on ya & couldn’t help but notice all of the flowers you been givin’ away, not the sorta thing you expect with a $4 coffee.’

You forced out a shaky giggle, ‘Hmmm I guess not, but there was an unexpected surplus, so I thought I would share the love with my customers, put a smile on their faces.’ 

‘Well, we heard differently’

‘yeah, we heard the King of Brooklyn had found his Queen.’ 

Your stomach dropped & your intense polishing of the counter with the cloth clutched in your hand ceased, you didn’t like where this was going, you had no idea if Bucky could even hear any of this or if the phone was even still connected but you knew he would get to you if he could. The potential of him not coming to rescue you was a real possibility & somehow you needed to come up with a way to get out of this on your own.

Before you could open your mouth the smaller one interrupted, a dark smirk overtaking his face was chilling you to the bone, he looked the epitome of evil & you wanted nothing more than to run from him. ‘No need to protest that sweetheart.’ You shuddered at the nickname, swiftly moving your hand from the counter when he tried to place his own on top of yours.

‘You see, at first we found that hard to believe that Bucky Barnes was pussy whipped, because everyone knows James Barnes isn’t a one-woman kinda guy, but when we saw him & his crew fill this place up with flowers at the crack of dawn we started to think there might be some truth to it.’

‘Well, looks like you have the wrong end of the stick gentlemen, he is a business associate & it was a thank you gift for arranging a last-minute delivery.’

The tall one laughed, except it didn’t feel at all joyful, ‘I don’t think so sweetheart, nice necklace.’ Your hand on instinct wrapped itself around the emerald pendant, maybe they were robbing you? You didn’t want to part with it, but if the alternative was you getting hurt, you were sure Bucky wouldn’t mind you handing it over to them.

‘Hmmm doesn’t it look familiar you Jimmy?’

‘Yeah, now that you mention it,’ he drummed his fingers on his chin as though he was deep in contemplation on where he had seen it before, ‘it kinda looks like the one his mom used to wear.’

‘That’s where I know it from.’ He acted as though it was some sort of big revelation, when in fact the surprise was written on your face, shit, you didn’t even want to go into why Bucky would give you such a sentimental gift, but you knew they wouldn’t believe any lies you came up with to explain it away.

Trying to be as nonchalant as possible you shrugged, ‘News to me, are you here for any reason in particular?’

‘Thing is sweetheart, your boyfriend & my boss have some outstanding business & your boyfriend isn’t being too forthcoming to sort it out, clearly too busy being distracted by a pretty young thing such as yourself.’

‘So, we thought we’d do him a favour & help focus his attention on what really matters, so you’re going to come with us. No need for a fuss or a fight darlin’, we’ll be real nice to ya as long as you behave.’

The thought of what he was implying made you recoil, your phone felt like a lead weight sat in your apron, to keep as calm as possible you repeatedly told yourself that even if the call didn’t connect, as long as you got away from them you could ring Bucky & he would come & keep you safe, he would keep you safe. 

You weren’t even listening as they rattled on about their boss being pleased, your mind in overdrive with what you were about to do, you let them escort you through the tables towards the exit & your heart felt like a jackhammer in your throat.

Before you were manhandled through the threshold to the car waiting outside, you raised a foot stomping down you heel as hard as you could into the tall man’s foot, then not wasting a second you elbowed the other in the gut with as much force as possible.

With the two momentarily incapacitated you darted back through the bakery throwing whatever you could get your hands on behind you as you ran to try & slow them down, you didn’t have much of a head start but you’d take it. Knowing the place inside out you easily manoeuvred through the tight passageways to your office slamming the door & frantically locking it. You knew the door wouldn’t hold for long, without thinking you somehow gathered the strength to push your desk in front of the door, paperwork flew in every which way from the force of you violently shoving the solid wood towards the entrance, barricading yourself in, hoping beyond hope that it would hold. 

Your hands were trembling pulling your phone out of your apron, in your haste to hear Bucky’s voice you repeatedly fumbled & dropped it, cursing yourself before forcing yourself to take a deep calming breath. Finally, you gathered your phone off the floor relieved seeing that the call was still connected.

‘James.’

‘Bunny, what’s happening, are you ok? where are you?’ He sounded breathless, almost on the precipice of panic.

‘I’m at the bakery, Bucky some guys tried to take me. Come please, they’re trying to get through the door.’ You sounded as terrified as you felt, you wondered if your makeshift barricade would hold for as long as it took for Bucky to get to you.

‘Already on my way Sugar, just hang tight I’m not far, I promise I’ll get to you. Where are …’

The sound of a gun firing stole you from your momentary reverie as one of them began unloading bullets into the door, the scream that left your body would haunt Bucky until the day he died & right there he knew he wouldn’t allow the people who tried to take you any mercy, no questioning, they were dead on sight.

‘Fuck bunny I’ll get to ya, where you hidin’?’

‘In my office. Please hurry.’

‘Just keep yourself away from the door, I promise nothing is gonna happen to you, ok?’

You nodded wishing he would just come crashing through the door & wrap himself around you.

‘Bunny, are you nodding even though I can’t see you?’

‘Yes.’

Cowering in a corner on the floor, trembling whenever the door handle rattled, or a shoulder barged into the wood wasn’t exactly how you thought your day would end but here you were clutching onto the necklace Bucky gave you like it was a lifeline hoping he would get to you before they got through the door.

The Mob Boss was about to combust, every promise he made to himself about keeping you safe he failed on, failed the promise he made to a dead man that very morning that he would keep his daughter from harm. Of the many unforgiveable things he had done in his life, this was the one that would live with him, the sound of your voice on the phone, the utter terror would haunt his nightmares.

When his cell illuminated with your call he couldn’t mask the smile on his face, despite being in a meeting he didn’t hesitate to answer hoping that you weren’t still mad that he bombarded you with flowers.

His heart stopped the moment he heard the fear in your voice & he dismissed the meeting, then began ordering people into action as he ran to his car with his phone pressed to his ear making sure not to miss a single thing said. 

He thought he could hear some commotion on the line after the talking died down & a few grunts, he forced himself to keep going & to not pull over to be sick on the side of the road, he sped up not caring about how fast he was now going or the danger he was putting himself in, he needed to get to you before they did.

Finally, he heard you call his name & he thanked every star in the sky that you had some how gotten away from them, if their focus was on getting you out of your office he knew they would be distracted enough to put a bullet in each of their skulls before they had chance to even know what’s happening.

Pulling up to the bakery he saw their car, ordering his men to destroy it, like a military operation they entered the bakery in absolute silence, Bucky taking lead, walking a well worn path to where the two stood feebly trying to open the door, completely outsmarted & out manoeuvred by his dainty real life angel, it was almost too easy as he stood barrel facing them & as quick as a flash with two clean shots they were on the ground. Exterminated.

You heard more bullets before two loud thuds, then silence. It was unnerving, did they finally give up & leave or go to get more men, you were tempted to look out & see what was happened, but you followed Bucky’s instructions & stayed put, knowing he would be there soon.

A sharp knock on the door broke the silence, ‘Bunny.’

His unmistakable voice steadied your trembling body, you needed to get to him & every second you took was a second too long, without hesitation you ran to the door & began disassembling your panicked barricade, ‘James.’

‘Move the desk Sugar, told you I’d get to you.’

Somehow even exhausted you managed to move the desk back enough so Bucky could squeeze through the gap, he was breathless, eyes darting around the room, assessing the danger, checking everything he needed to in order to calm down after the frantic journey to get to you.

With two long strides he wrapped his big arms around you, engulfing you entirely, the irony that you felt the safest you ever had within the arms of the most dangerous man in the city did occur to you but at that moment you didn’t care, pulling away he began running his hands around your limbs, holding your face, checking every inch of you looking for injuries of any kind.

Satisfied that you were unharmed he leaned his head against yours to calm the overwhelming panic your phone call had induced, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend how you were feeling.

‘Hi’

‘Hi’

Without pause he connected your mouths in a fiery kiss, his grip tight on the back of your head as though he was absolutely making sure you were ok & still there with him. Not thinking straight, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped or from pushing yourself against him, you needed him closer & to never let you go, it was stupid, but your body craved the safety of his arms.

Reluctantly, painfully almost, he prised his mouth from yours to give you some air, sheepishly clearing his throat to mask his amusement at your angry little pout, he wanted to kiss it away more than anything but knew better than to take advantage of your need for comfort after what had just happened. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s ok.’

You tried to pull yourself from his grasp & explain to him what happened, but he still wouldn’t let you go, keeping his head firmly against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in, trying to find his way back to the peace your presence usually granted him, ‘Just gimme a sec.’

Finally, he looked into your eyes, you were lost in his the second they connected, still as blue & piercing as ever, just as you were about to tell him what happened when Steve appeared at the door.

‘Everything is secure, you’re good to go. We���ll stay back & make sure everything is cleaned up.’

Remaining completely focused on you he didn’t even look at Steve when he spoke, ‘I want it spotless.’

‘Understood.’

You glanced between the two men not really knowing what they meant, but not having the capacity to think about it you let it go for once, if James said it was taken care of you knew it would be.

Holding your face, he brought your attention back to him noticing you had zoned out, before the adrenaline wore off & you shut down completely he needed to get you to safety, if there were two guys after you, there was no doubt in his mind that more would follow.

‘Come with me Bunny, we’re gonna go back to yours, pack a bag & you’re gonna stay with me for a while, least until I find out who sent them guys.’

‘What no, that’s so unnecessary.’

‘Sugar, these guys are bad news, there will be more if they know about you.’

His voice faltered, as if he was struggling to even verbalise the danger you were in. ‘Please, please let me keep you safe. Do you trust me?’

Hmm trust him? To keep you safe yes, absolutely, trust him not to break your heart, you weren’t so sure. Maybe it wasn’t the time to clarify your answer with him, so you just nodded, ‘Yes, I trust you James.’

‘Good, so please trust that I know best.’

Again, you nodded.

‘We’ll get to my house, get some dinner in you, then we will regroup & come up with a plan.’

‘Ok, will Alpine be there?’

‘Of course, she’s misses you Sugar.’

Just as Bucky began to guide you out he realised there would likely still be two dead men outside the office, ‘Bunny, I don’t want you to see out there so I’m gonna pick you up & I want you to keep your eyes closed until I tell you, ok?

You nodded holding out your arms to him without hesitation, a sight he would have killed to see 24 hours ago but now it filled him full of guilt & sadness that you had been traumatised in order for it to happen, you jumped up wrapping yourself like a little koala in his arms tucking yourself into his neck as he effortlessly carried you out into the night & into the car waiting outside.

It felt like some sort of manic house raid when you got to your apartment, bags were swiftly located & your possessions tossed in, from the amount of clothes Bucky was packing you weren’t sure when you would return, so you brought your father’s recipe books & some home comforts that you knew you wouldn’t need but liked to have near.

With a deep sigh you zipped up the final bag ready to leave behind your life, Bucky gathered them all in his hand despite your protest that you could help him with them, the other hand was entwined with your own, ‘if you need anything else I can always send one of my men over to get it ok Bunny. Or you could finally let me spoil ya silly & buy you whatever you want.’

He gently pressed his lips to your temple at the tiny smile he managed to coax from you, he could tell you were in shock from how quiet you had been since he got to you, so he just made sure to be close but not overbearing & let you work through it all.  

Taking your keys from you to lock up, you instinctively wrapped your arms around him for some comfort, you knew you were in this mess because of him but you absolutely knew to your core that he would handle it. In the grand scheme of your life you hadn’t known him very long, but you knew him enough to know you would be safest with him.

Pulling up to Bucky’s estate a second time didn’t seem as daunting & the thought of living with him didn’t faze you at all, ‘Home sweet home.’ He lifted your connected hands to his lips, trying to reassure you, he would be thrilled with you staying with him but under the circumstances he was trying to keep his rage suppressed in your presence that someone would dare try & take you, he hadn’t even begun to apologise for this happening to you, he needed to take decisive action. 

Sam was at the house waiting on your arrival, you giggled at Bucky darting out of the car & have a hand slapping standoff with his friend in an attempt at trying to be the one to open your door, he won, of course & held out his hand to guide you out of the car.

‘Can you get Bun’s bags & put them in the room next to mine please. Come on Sugar let’s get you something to eat. Alpine’s gonna love having a new roommate.’

You took his outstretched hand, appreciating the coy smile on his face, as he led you through to the kitchen you noticed the hive of activity in the vicinity of his office, spotting your attention on them he put his palm on your lower back & guided you away from anything you could potentially hear. ‘Ignore them Darlin’, I’ll set you some food & then I have some business to take care of. I’ll make sure they’re out of our hair in no time.’

The fillets of salmon were sizzling away on the griddle pan once you returned to the kitchen, you had excused yourself to change out of your work clothes into your overpriced cashmere loungewear, the comfort of some familiarity in a foreign environment felt like it would soothe your overwhelmed brain. 

Noticing how zoned out you still were Bucky turned back to the stove reducing the heat, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching let alone the sound of Sinatra playing until his deep gravelly voice pulled you from your reverie, ‘Dance with me Bunny.’

A whisper of a smile crossed your face & as he held out his hand & you looked like you were coming back up to the surface accepting his invitation, your head tucked perfectly under his chin as you swayed on the on the spot, like you were made to dance with him. You always felt so protected in his arms, the warmth & safety of his embrace was all it took to open up, ‘they said their boss had some business with you, but you were too distracted with me, so they were taking care of it.’

Your voice was so quiet, he held you that little bit tighter for it, ‘I’m so fucking sorry Bunny, I swore I would keep you safe & I didn’t.’

‘I’m here aren’t I? Safe & Sound.’ You looked up at him resting your chin to his chest.

‘Not because of me, what did you do to them?’

‘I took some classes on women’s self-defence last summer at the YMCA, I kept calm & waited until they tried to get me out the door, I stomped on one guys foot & then elbowed the other & ran.’

He looked down on proud face lighting up at the sight, ‘You’re so fucking smart, you know that, even calling me as soon as you did.’

‘Well I knew they looked evil I just trusted my gut.’

‘Why did you call me?’

‘I knew you’d come & keep me safe.’

‘Always Sugar.’

‘You got to me quickly.’

‘Not quick enough Bunny, couldn’t fucking breathe listening to it. Nearly shot someone who got in my way.’

You gasped, hoping no one came to harm because of you.

‘Knew you wouldn’t like it if I did, so just punched him.’

You giggled & it was like the heavens opened & angels sung to him, ‘That’s ok then.’

‘See, knew you’d understand.’ He gently moved some hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear & you couldn’t help but swoon with how delicate he always seemed to be with you. On your tip toes you reached up to place a kiss on his cheek, despite all the kissing you had previously shared the blush on his skin was unmistakable.

You managed to pull yourself together before you did anything too stupid in order to calm your racing mind, ‘So, what’s the plan?’

‘We have our dinner, you go, shower & do whatever you need to do to feel ok.’

‘I feel ok like this.’

‘Dancing?’

‘With you.’

‘Then I’ll do my best to keep close, if I can’t be, you’ll be surrounded by people who will lay down their lives before any harm comes to you, just like I will.’ An effortless twirl in his arms really didn’t help the swooning & you weren’t sure if your legs would give out any minute, but you knew he would catch you when they did.

‘I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.’

‘It won’t come to that, In the mean time you stay here, I can’t risk you going to the bakery, out in the open.’

Your brow furrowed at the thought, you mind in overdrive yet again, ‘But I can’t close.’

‘I will take care of everything.’

‘But…’ 

He cut you off with his thumb over your lip, ‘Please, please let me take care of you, of your business. Take this time to actually rest & it will be right there when this is all over.’

The pleading in his eyes was all it took for you to agree with a firm nod, ‘When will it be all over?’

‘When I find out who sent those two men, when I find him & kill him for trying to take my girl from me.’

‘Bucky ... I’m not…’

‘I know Sugar, I know you’re not my girl … yet.’

He pulled you in selfishly, connecting you to him & yet again you did nothing but comply, he savoured your taste & reassured that you were safe & taken care of. 

When your lips parted, you couldn’t help repeating his words.

‘Yet.’

Never had Bucky ever wanted to be somewhere less, he kept trying to subtly watch the live CCTV of you cuddled up to Alpine watching a movie in the snug but being interrupted with business at hand was irritating him no end, he should be right there with you holding both his girls close & enjoying a Saturday at home, instead he was sat with his crew drawing up plans to take down Pierce once & for all.

He was more determined than ever to do right by you, having someone to come home to every night had been a revelation, walking in on you in the kitchen at various stages of your baking process never failed to put a smile on his face. You said you were bored & wanted to test out new ideas, so Bucky had every type of ingredient he could source stocked in the pantry for you to work with & would often find you talking to security getting their feedback on your creations.

The bakery was running smoothly with Yelena, MJ & Peter plus one of the finest pastry chefs flown in from Paris who meticulously followed your recipes, you had begged Bucky for him not to be ‘too good’ so your regulars wouldn’t get used to having a ‘real baker’ making their pastries. You refused to entertain his argument that yours were just as good as any trained chef, he would argue until he was blue in the face to get you to believe him but relented & made you write down your recipes for the ‘proper chef’ to ‘lower himself to’, you didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched whenever you talked yourself down.

Still, he looked forward to the minute he could leave the office each day & almost shot Steve at one point when he asked him a convoluted question at 5pm expecting him to come up with a detailed answer, he didn’t miss the smirk on the punk’s face when it was a very brief sentence followed by him rushing to get out the door.

Unfortunately, the meeting Bucky was currently enduring was necessary, after days of his scouts out on various missions they were finally ready to formulate a plan to deal with Pierce & if they were strategic the entire organisation could be wiped out in one night, no one comes after his girl & after this was done no one would ever dare again.

An exasperated sigh fell from him as he studied his rough cuticles, letting the men around his desk mutter away whilst his thoughts were consumed by you, ‘Talk to me, what do we know.’

Steve glanced around the table waiting for someone to speak, the blank looks on their faces told him he would be leading this particular operation, ‘The second you shot Malone & Fingers, Pierce went into hiding getting his little bulldog Rumlow to do his dirty work, but Parker & I managed to track one of his men making some suspicious supply drop offs at a place up in Rochester, nice big place surrounded by fences.’

With his eyebrow quirked he quickly weighed up the pro’s & cons of entering the lion’s den, ‘Impenetrable?’

‘Not with Peter hacking the feed & the security system.’ 

‘How many men do we have?’

Sam unusually quiet until this point perked up, ‘Enough to take all of them at once, swarm the place. There’s been some chatter about a meet up, they will be gathered & sitting ducks.’

‘When?’

‘Tomorrow 9pm.’

Running his hand through his hair he let out another sigh, the thought of inevitably losing men weighed on his conscious, but this needed taking care of once & for all, ‘Ok, do what you need to do.’

Steve’s demeanour shifted at the Mob Boss’ apparent detachment from the plans, Bucky Barnes would usually hyperfocus on each detail of an operation until he could recite each split second of the plan, ‘You not joining us?’

‘Who do you think will be putting the bullet between his eyes? I trust you all to handle the rest, have someone collect me from the house on the way. I’ve got other business that requires my attention.’

‘hmm I wonder what.’ Walker was always a thorn in Bucky’s side, there wasn’t a day he didn’t irritate everyone around him, he was a nobody in the organisation but acted like he was the saviour of the new world & 2nd in command at times.

Without pause, Bucky reached for the gun tucked in his belt, before anyone could anticipate his next move the safety was released & he shot one single bullet into his skull, the lifeless body falling to the floor with a thud. He could tolerate a lot from his men, but disrespect wasn’t one of them, his father taught him once you lose that you’ve lost all hope of them following you into battle. It was a warning to the rest that Bucky Barnes might have softened for you, but he was every bit the Mob Boss his reputation warranted.

‘Anyone else got anything to say? … No, I didn’t think so, clean this up.’

Standing against the door frame he watched on as your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth in full concentration meticulously decorating the decadent eclair with gold leaf. He had informed you of the plans when he got back from the office, despite his business being unsavoury & in complete contrast to yours he had promised to keep you in the loop, even if you didn’t like what came out of his mouth sometimes. 

He had found you & Alpine sprawled out in the snug enjoying a nap with the golden hour sunshine splintering on your face, looking like a real-life angel, he knew that in less than 48 hours you would be back to living your normal life & some part of him wanted to selfishly draw out the whole mess, so he could keep you here longer. 

‘Bunny, what you still doing up?’

Only when you tilted your head to look up at him did he realise you were crying, he was in front of you lifting you up on the counter before you could even wipe away your fallen tears.

He cradled your face in his hands, ‘Hey what’s got you upset?’

You shrugged, ‘just worried I guess.’

Moving to rub your thighs with his warm palms, he needed to soothe & comfort you, his real-life angel being upset wasn’t an option if he could do anything about it, ‘What about Bun?’

‘Tomorrow.’

He sighed, the last thing he wanted was for you to be worried about that. ‘Oh, Sugar there’s absolutely no need, this place will be guarded & you’ll be completely safe.’

You shook your head, ‘No, worried about you.’

‘Worried about me? Thought you’d be glad to be rid of me.’

‘I don’t .. I don’t want you to get hurt.’ You rested your elbows on his shoulders playing with his hair like you always seemed to do when your mind drifted.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Wish you’d stay with me instead.’

‘Trust me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right next to you, but I need to be the one to do it.’

‘Mob etiquette?’

‘Something like that. Whatchya got there anyway.’

You reached forward picking up the dessert, holding it up to Bucky’s mouth for him to take a bite, the sight was enough to flood your underwear & placing the remainder down on the side you licked the remains from your fingers not missing the way his eyes followed every movement absolutely captivated by you.

You didn’t care about what had gone on anymore, he was all you wanted & you were sick of being on a high horse about something that really didn’t matter, you wanted him. Moving your hand to the back of his neck you pulled him towards you, smashing your lips against his, tasting the sweet cream in his mouth.

You’d probably kissed him every day at one point or another since you were staying with him, but this felt different, it had purpose, you were leaning into him & not holding yourself back as he stood between your legs, his hands on your waist pulling you to the edge of the counter pressing you against him, feeling his abs rubbing your centre.

Your hands made their way down his body, his muscles rippling on contact until you reached the hem of his t-shirt pushing their way under trying to rid him of a layer separating you.

‘Hold on Bunny, hold on one second.’

You draped your arms over his shoulders to pull him back to your lips, ‘James, please, I want you.’

‘No darlin’, not like this.’

You moved your legs up to the counter blocking yourself from him, trying to wiggle out of his grasp as the humiliation rose at his rejection.

‘Hey, hey, I don’t mean I don’t want you, you know I do, but you’re not in the right headspace for decision making & I’m not taking advantage of you when you still haven’t forgiven me for the shit I pulled in that club.’

Again, you draped your arms around him, arching your back as you whispered into his ear, ‘But maybe I have.’

Reciprocating your body language his hands held your back, pressing you against him as he lay a delicate kiss below your ear, ‘Well then if that’s the case, it won’t hurt to wait until this is all done & settled, only then will I accept that you have.’

You reluctantly yielded, it would have been pathetic if you kept pawing at him to get your way, but you knew you’d eventually be grateful that he gave you time to process everything once your horniness subsided. 

Like the gentleman he was turning out to be, he helped you clean up your mess in the kitchen before he walked you to your room, you wanted to ask him to at least stay in your bed tonight but thought better of it in your current state. You couldn’t be held responsible for dry humping him in your sleep, instead you settled for a good night kiss with the promise of new beginnings on the horizon & maybe you would have to take care of the ache between your legs yourself in the meantime.

The tension was at boiling point throughout the day, you tried to be present in the moment spending the day with Bucky but feeling physically sick at the thought of him in harm’s way meant you couldn’t stomach any food or pay attention to whatever movie was on. You instead, paced back & forth in the snug whilst he sat watching you intently telling you to come sit & that everything would be fine, it wasn’t until he pulled you on to his lap that you finally calmed somewhat until the foreboding grandfather clock chimed that it was time. This was it. 

You felt a sense of dread that couldn’t be explained, convincing yourself that he would come back missing a limb or worse & it made you sick to your stomach. When this was all over you told yourself, you would take some time to assess how you were feeling about the man keeping you from harm because the visceral reaction to him suiting up getting ready to leave was overwhelming.

You almost felt as though he was being shipped off to war & you needed to confess all your feelings then & there like it was your last chance, then telling him that you would be waiting for him, hoping & praying he would come back unharmed.

The car pulling up to the front of the house had your lip trembling, you clung to the mobster who looked composed as ever but feeling his racing heart at the thought of leaving you showed his hand. 

‘Try & sleep Bunny I’ll see you in the morning.’

You pulled his face to yours in a desperate kiss & his hands instinctively found your waist to hold you to him, parting was such sweet sorrow, ‘Wake me up when you get in … I’ll sleep in your bed.’

‘Might not leave now if you’re gonna be saying that.’

You giggled & like always it was music to his ears.

As he began walking towards the foyer his arm was draped over your shoulders & his head leaned down with his lips to your ears ‘Got a real important job for ya Bun.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Yeah, there’s a little white kitty around here somewhere, you gotta keep her out of mischief & safe while I’m gone. She doesn’t like her daddy leaving her.’

You let out a deep sigh, ‘Neither do I’.

‘Fuck, Sugar, why you gotta say that.’ He pulled you to him in a tender kind of kiss that you didn’t want to read into, did it feel like a goodbye? Maybe. Did it break your heart a little? Yes, but crying into a guy’s mouth isn’t hot & you somehow kept your composure so that he wouldn’t worry about the state he left you in.

A split second later he marched out the door not looking back, he needed to focus & if he saw you upset he would have marched right back to do anything & everything to make you smile. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was in love with you.

The drive was tense, he studied the floorplan & strategy being presented to him from the back of the convoy, a simple plan for the others to go ahead & take out any members & leave Pierce for Bucky, he allowed Steve & Sam the pleasure of playing with Rumlow to their heart’s content, but everyone knew the boss was his for the killing.

Pulling up to the estate the CCTV feed was being monitored, Hydra’s entire organisation cooped up in two small rooms & Pierce sat in his office, the whole operation was in place ready for the annihilation of the Mob Boss’ perpetual headache. From the car in front Peter hacked their system with a feedback a loop of their external cameras to mask their arrival, signalling once they could go ahead. 

The first wave of security wasn’t any kind of an issue & removed without breaking a sweat, a silent biometric lock picking later & they had access to the building. Bucky strolled in the place as though his name was on the deeds, the security was pathetic, their arrogance amused him no end & he couldn’t wait to see the look on Pierce’s face as he planted a bullet directly in his skull. 

The sight of his rival’s office doors came into view & as he smugly opened the door with his silencer pointed directly at the chair his stomach dropped, it was empty. He quickly assessed the room, eyes darting back & forth to look for escape routes, secret rooms not on the plans but came up short, he was there mere moments before.

The heckles rose on Bucky's neck from the silence of the place, there should be more noise, bullets, anything. His cool calm demeanour was failing as he searched the room, looking for a clue as to where he went, until Steve ran into the room, he almost sounded muffled as he spoke because the Mob Boss’ whole entire focus laid on the desk he had just walked behind. 

His eyes darted to Steve, the sorrow deeply etched on his face told his lifelong friend that nothing had gone to plan, this was a trap.

Captured in a picture frame stood on his nemesis desk was a photograph of Bucky dancing in his kitchen with the love of his life looking at him as though he painted the entire night’s sky with stars, chilling him to his very soul & he could only manage one word.

‘Bunny.’

Tag list

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[quaranmine]

leave a light on for me

If you think all your friends hate you, it's probably time to go to bed. If you're stuck in your fifth death game, unable to fall asleep, and in pain from injuries that can't heal, then it's safe to say you probably have other issues too. Martyn has moved into Jimmy's shack in Secret Life. They're sleeping in the same room together again, just like all those years ago in the Property Police station on Evo. Unfortunately, a lot has happened between them since.

Word count: 3,167

hiiii so i saw property police were teaming in secret life, blacked out for like two days, and this appeared. CW: there is quite a lot of self-hate, self image issues, and abandonment issues packed into 3k words here. as a result i feel the unnecessary need to once again clarify this is about characters, not real guys,,,

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The thought comes to him late at night, as thoughts of these types often do. 

Jimmy’s laying curled in his bed, arms wrapped protectively around himself. It’s a very careful position. He hasn’t slept yet; he hasn’t been able to. Everything just hurts so, so, so much. 

It’s not fun living on a server without regen. Sure, the hanging out with friends is fun, and the early days are always fun before everybody hates each other, and the secrets are silly and goofy but it—it always turns. It always turns. And it isn’t fun right now.

His ankle is on fire from where he twisted it earlier by falling. He’s not sure which landing did it; he’s too used to jumping off random heights without worrying about it. He should probably prop it up to help with the swelling, but the mere thought of it makes everything hurt even more. Besides, his leg’s also burned from where Scott set him on fire earlier. 

No, curled up is the best way to deal with this. If he stays as still as possible, everything hurts less. Staying still has other benefits too, like making sure the arrow wound on his shoulder blade doesn’t reopen and drip white hot blood and pain. 

His thoughts aren’t actually about the pain, though. Well, most of his thoughts. It’s pretty hard to ignore every time his breathing shifts a cracked rib. His green life is hanging by a thread, and every so often it feels like a blanket settles over the critical thinking center of his brain, making it impossible to focus on anything but the klaxon horn going you’re hurt, you’re hurt, you’re hurt. 

But the rest of his thoughts are about the usual late night things—

Life. Death. The Universe. Whether people actually hate him or not. That embarrassing thing he did yesterday, and the day before that. His entire past stretched out on a table and examined with a magnifying glass. Weighed and balanced, mistakes and karma and loves and losses. The breathing of the person across the room. 

“Martyn?” he calls softly. “Are you asleep?”

There’s a rustle of blankets, and then a groan. “I was until you said that.”

He’s lying. Jimmy knows the way he breathes when he’s asleep. They used to sleep in the same room years ago, too. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I was just—thinking.”

“You had a thought?” 

Jimmy giggles, and it stabs him. “Stop it,” he says when he catches his breath. “I mean it!”

“Should we break out the record books? Mark the day Timmy had an independent thought?”

“I’m going to—I am going to kick you out of my shack,” Jimmy says. “That’s it, your big man privileges are revoked.”

“You’d kick me out into the dark and scary night all alone?”

“I would have no second thoughts! I would have no second thoughts.”

He’s actually having a lot of second thoughts, which is the problem. He’s having second thoughts about Martyn and—since when was that the case? Needing to question his best friend? Well, he knows since when, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. In any case, he’s not going to kick Martyn out into the dark. He’s not going to kick him out at all. If Martyn wants out, all he’ll have to do is walk out. Jimmy just isn’t sure he won’t.

“Well, then you can’t leave me hanging,” Martyn says. “What was your thought?”

“It’s silly,” Jimmy says. “I was just…do you ever still think about Evo, Martyn?”

This is possibly the most loaded a question could ever be between them. Martyn sits up in bed sharply, just a shadowy blur in Jimmy’s periphery. “Why would you bring that up?” he says sharply. The venom is clear: this is not safe territory for Jimmy to traverse. 

The moonlight is cold and diffuse, leaving the room with a gloomy air. The mood in the room has shifted. After a moment he responds, carefully redirecting the conversation around the Watchers. “It just feels like it doesn’t it? Us sleeping in the same room together? The Property Police.”

Martyn is silent. Then, finally: “I guess it does.” 

He sounds calmer now. Jimmy’s mistake was asking a question too open-ended, because for once he’s not thinking about everything that went wrong in Evo. He’s thinking about everything that went right, and that’s what hurts the most right now. Not his broken ribs or wounds, but the way everything used to be okay and isn’t anymore. 

Jimmy’s blunt. “Are you going to stay this time?”

“What—what do you mean?” Martyn sputters. “Of course. We’re shacked up together. That’s sacred, you know.”

Jimmy picks at the thread of the blanket. “‘Cause, well, the last time you said it’d just be me and you, you were lying to my face.”

They were in a hilly forest. Jimmy was green for the longest he’d been the entire game, and it felt like buzzing life in his veins instead of dread. Grian was red and the Southlands felt like it was splintering. And Jimmy was running, Martyn hot on his heels. 

“Dude, you cannot still be hung up on that,” Martyn says. “That was—hold on, let me count, three whole games ago? Come on, you’re the one who invited me to the shack.”

Why don’t we leave together? We’ll figure something out and we’ll move away together. Everybody knows the Southerners are weak. We can set up the Boogey Blockers, remember? You know, the idea for Property Police two-point-oh from session one. You’ve got nowhere to go and neither do I, so we’ll figure it out together. Just give me the heart back. 

“I believed you when you told me that.”

Martyn scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re the most gullible person on the server. And don’t give me some pity party either, you were literally stealing from me. I’m not going to say sorry for getting my life back.”

Jimmy has a list of justifications for why he stole that heart. He was anxious, for one. He started the game on yellow while other people were given six whole lives. Six! Imagine. Or imagine being one of the few who’d started on yellow and been voluntarily given a life by an ally. Nobody wanted to do that for him, so what if he stole it instead? What about it? Stealing a life without murdering for it is far from the worst crime someone could commit on that server. 

He had felt like the group was splintering, for another. Grian was gone. Both he and Mumbo were yellow—one accident away from red. It wasn’t the same as 3rd Life, where he had a husband to stick next to him even when he turned red. Nobody was going to do that for Jimmy this time, which meant he had to look out for himself. He just…didn’t want to have to, that’s all. 

But those justifications feel stupid now in the future. He died first anyway, and again, and again. He doesn’t raise these points to Martyn now. 

He also doesn’t actually want Martyn to apologize for what he said in Last Life. He certainly isn’t going to apologize for stealing the life. He doesn’t care about what happened in the past—no really, he swears he doesn’t—he just wants to know if Martyn means it this time.

Part of him wonders, though, if Martyn realized just how easily he could manipulate Jimmy back then. If Martyn had known how much Jimmy cared about him and used that to his advantage. If he realizes now just how easily he could do it again, and again, and again. 

I didn’t mean a word of what I said, Martyn had spat as soon as Jimmy transferred the life again. You’re an idiot.

Jimmy’s quite aware he’s an idiot, really. He’s reminded of it every day. The thing is, he doesn’t think. He never thinks. His life would be a whole lot better if he didn’t wait to think until it was late at night and he felt alone and all his mistakes were already made. 

“I just thought you meant it back then,” he says finally. “That’s all. You lied to me again today too.”

“Sorry. That one was a task requirement,” Martyn says. “I needed someone who’d believe any story I made up. But I’m still here, aren’t I? Big men don’t lie to each other. Starting now."

Jimmy remembers another time Martyn tried to leave, back when it was just the two of them. He’d woken up in the Property Police station to the sound of Martyn rummaging through their chests for supplies to take with him. He told Jimmy he was leaving because he was sick of the Watchers. He’d planned on leaving before Jimmy even woke up, so it was only by luck Jimmy caught him in time. He called Martyn a coward and chased him all the way to the end portal. 

Martyn asked if he was coming with him. Jimmy said no. He was only following to stop him or say goodbye.

In hindsight, this was another one of Jimmy’s idiot moments. He was so naive. He didn’t realize how bad the Watchers would become yet, or what the cost of staying was. They should have gone together. He shouldn’t have called Martyn a coward for seeing a future he didn’t. But even if Martyn was ahead of the curve, he’d still been willing to leave him behind. 

In the end, nobody could leave. The Watchers had sealed the portal. 

But it’s the thought that sticks with Jimmy, even when he pretends it doesn’t. 

Martyn trying to leave Jimmy on Evo. Martyn tricking Jimmy on Last Life. Martyn lying to him just this morning. It’s the thought of it that still sticks with him. 

“Can I trust you?” he asks. 

“Yeah, of course,” Martyn says. “I’m loyal.”

“You’re loyal to Ren.”

Jimmy takes a bit of pleasure in the way Martyn sucks in a breath. It’s a low blow, but it works. He doesn’t know what the two of them have going on, but he knows Martyn would betray him twice over for Ren. He’s since learned about Martyn’s Shadow Alliance plans in Last Life—how Martyn was lying when he said the two of them could run away together, but not lying about being willing to betray the Southlands. Lizzie had told him about it months later on Empires. 

Normally, Jimmy wouldn’t have held the betrayal against him. Not this long into the future, at least. It’s a death game; these things happen. But normally Martyn isn’t sleeping in the same room as him. 

“Ren isn’t here right now,” Martyn responds, every word clipped and intentional.  

Martyn feels dangerous to team with. Martyn might leave. Martyn doesn’t have any qualms about betraying people in these games. But Jimmy would follow Martyn into any fight if they were on the same side. He stood next to Martyn and faced things that the two of them still won’t talk about. He knows the sound of his breathing when he sleeps.

He and Martyn fall into rhythm together.

“You wouldn’t be here if he was,” Jimmy mutters. 

“What—What are you on about tonight?” Martyn says. “Huh? What’s gotten into you tonight?” He doesn’t sound as angry as Jimmy expected him to. Instead, he almost sounds…worried. 

“I’m fine,” Jimmy says listlessly. “I told you, I was just thinking.”

“Nuh-uh, you never think! Look at me. What’s up?”

“No.”

“Be like that then. I’ll come to you,” he says, and Jimmy hears the sound of rustling blankets followed by footsteps across the wooden floor. Seconds later the bed dips slightly, and it jostles his foot that he has been keeping very still. This sets off fire in his nerves, and Jimmy gasps. 

“Ow,” he whines. 

“I didn’t even touch you,” Martyn says. His voice is sharp in that acerbic tone he’s so good at, where every sentence is met with either snark or wit.  

“You moved the bed.”

“Oh,” Martyn says and then, “Oh. You’re all battered right now. Broken and bruised, not thinking straight. You know, I got down to five and a half last session. That hurt like a—it hurt a lot. It gets better.”

“Yeah, it hurt less after you died from it,” Jimmy says. “No thanks. I’ll stay on green.”

Martyn’s frowning. “You’re in an awfully bad mood tonight,” he says. “You’re like actually upset right now, aren’t you?”

“I failed my task,” Jimmy says. 

“So?” Martyn asks. “You weren’t the only one who failed today. Can hardly get worse than being the only yellow, if you know what I mean.” He laughs softly. 

“I just needed to tell someone to tell me to get out, but nobody would.” Jimmy sighs. “But they—nobody wanted me there. Nobody. The only reason they didn’t say anything is that they wanted to help me with my task.”

“I don’t know if I see the problem there, Tim,” Martyn says. “Aside from the whole ‘they were too nice to you for you to succeed.’ You said that earlier, that nobody was rude enough to say the line.”

Jimmy’s been turning that around in his head for a while too. What’s wrong? Why does he feel so bad that people were nice to him? Why is he scared that Martyn agreed to be allies? Something about the situation was making him feel awful tonight but he has to work to pin it down. The feeling gets triggered first. He has to track down the logic of it afterward. 

He just feels—he feels like they all hate him. All of them. And he hates himself too, so he gets it. There’s something wrong with him and he’s never seemed to be able to figure it out and fix it. He can’t look into the mirror of his soul and see the problem. He can’t adjust his behavior to get rid of it. No matter what he does, it’s there. 

The problem is just him. He’s deficient. He can’t fix something that’s innate. 

The thing is, it’s not really about how people wanted to help him succeed today, it’s the underlying reasons for it. It’s why they helped him. 

“It was just…obligation,” he says after a minute. “It was just an obligation. They were being polite. Nobody said anything because they wanted to help with the task, not ‘cause they actually were willing to let me stay with them. Not because they wanted me there. They just wanted to get rid of me faster.”

“I mean,” Martyn says, dragging out the word. He’s puzzled. “Weren’t you trying to be intentionally annoying about it, though? To get yourself kicked out so they’d say the thing? I saw whatever you were doing in Scott’s house. You were being so weird about it.”

Jimmy presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. His eyes are watering now, little prickles of tears that threaten to spill over if he blinks too much. He doesn’t want Martyn to see. It’s also the most he’s moved in a while, and the motion makes his vision go fuzzy on the edges anyway. 

“Maybe I want someone to stay,” Jimmy says, voice cracking. “Maybe I want someone to want me to stay. Even when I’m being especially annoying. Even when I’m being me.”

For a moment, the room is so quiet he could hear a pin drop. Then Martyn just says, “What?”

“I don’t—I don’t want people to leave me, or lie to me, or pretend to want me in the room when they’re actually just happy the moment I go home.”

“Tim,” Martyn says. “Do you actually think all that? That people hate it when you’re yourself?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s bad tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s like that?” Martyn says. “I mean, like—do you think that’s an accurate idea of what’s going on, or just your brain tellin’ ya that? I had fun with you today. Wouldn’t have followed you home afterwards if I didn’t.”

He knows he’s having irrational thoughts about this. He knows he’s had irrational thoughts before, so this time they might be irrational too. He can recognize this part of the cycle, at least. But the problem is, are they irrational this time? Are they? Is he confident they are? How can he be confident they are? Is Martyn just telling him what he wants to hear so he’ll stop acting stupid? 

Will Martyn be here in the morning? 

He grimaces. “I think I need to sleep,” he whispers. “This no-regen nonsense hurts and it’s making everything worse.”

Martyn doesn’t know what to say, so he dodges it.  “Do you…d’you want me to call someone for you? Who could help better? Maybe Scott, or Tango, or Grian….or maybe not Grian, but anyone else really…”

Jimmy turns his head to look at Martyn, revealing his face again. Martyn’s eyes are wide and unsettled. He is sitting on the bed, but he’s also sort of hovering, being very careful not to touch Jimmy. They’d been joking earlier, why aren’t they now? Jimmy’s not sure. They operate well when there’s a bit to play into, but there isn’t one now. He thinks maybe their years of playing bits have left them without the words to truly communicate anything else. 

While looking at Martyn, it strikes Jimmy: He doesn’t even realize. He thinks there’s someone else more important to Jimmy who could be in the room right now instead of him. It’s almost laughable. Martyn’s right, there’s many people in Jimmy’s life who are important to him. Who can, and have, helped him. But is it Jimmy’s fault that Martyn doesn’t realize he’s still one of them? 

While looking at Martyn, it strikes Jimmy: He has to give this alliance a try anyway. He can’t write it off before it begins. It might be doomed to fail. Certainly will be, with Martyn being the first yellow and Jimmy’s illustrious record of survival. It might hurt him. It might fix him. 

What’s actually real, though, is that Martyn is here right now. It feels like the old days. They only get scraps of time together these past few years. A MCC team here, a death game there. They’re rarely on the same servers as each other. They don’t see each other like they used to. They don’t live together anymore. They don’t sleep in the same room anymore. It makes Jimmy’s chest ache.

“I’d rather have you here,” he says finally.  

Martyn is surprised. “Oh!” he says. “D’ya want me to do anything?”

“No,” he whispers. “Just stay while I fall asleep. I’ll be okay again in the morning.”

Jimmy closes his eyes and they feel like they burn underneath his lids. There’s tears drying on his cheeks. His ankle still throbs. 

He feels fingers card through his hair gently, the touch hesitant and light. Uncertain.  “Shh,” Martyn says. “Big men don’t cry.”

Jimmy tries to sleep, and knows that isn’t true. 

[bonefall]

longtime dc fan and i think a lot of people are angry because alex is obviously one of the most culturally relevant instances of misogyny in media. that being said being more culturally relevant doesn’t mean it’s the worst instance of misogyny and i think bumble definitely experiences more profound misogyny in the way the actual content is presented, if that makes sense

I get you, and that's a charitable way of looking at it.

I think what's rustling my jimmies is that like, there was a couple of WC fans being mildly dismissive of Alex in that note minefield, after dozens of comments of "fuck you how could you let the fridge woman lose" and "Bumble didn't deserve to win ANY rounds" and "how could A CAT experience misogyny." But then WE get blamed for the toxicity because THEY were butthurt that the Funny Cat People have the 'audacity' to win something they feel entitled to.

Like, we've gotta be endlessly charitable as we get openly insulted because they're upset about Alex losing, a very well-known and culturally relevant character with a legacy so massive we have a whole term named after her. But condemnations of "She's just a cat, letting WC into this poll was a mistake, Bumble can't even be a victim of misogyny" only started coming around once I started talking about it.

as if it's OUR fault people got passive-aggressive or even OPENLY aggressive towards us, and that we're "just as bad" for retaliating

But like you said, it's not a "Most Culturally Relevant Misogyny" tournament, it's a "Canon Misogyny Victims" tournament. And you're not even supposed to give a shit that Bumble died. The fat, woman abuse victim is beaten to death by a dictator, and your takeaway is meant to be, "It's so sad that Clear Sky is being blamed for murdering her, now they're all preparing for self-defense against a homicidal maniac, oh nooo :("

And I think that DOES make her deserve the win here! Alex is a MARTYR. Everyone with a brain agrees what happens to her is bad. It happened in her canon because it was bad. We talk about her and keep her memory alive. Bumble gets dismissed entirely out of hand because she's "just a cat in a kid's book" as if that doesn't make it worse, and as if the kid's book didn't treat a domestic abuse survivor like a moron for even asking for help.

Anyway, just to reiterate, I love DC fans. It's not all of you guys. Alex was done dirty and deserves justice-- and it's even kind of a shame that all she became is "The Fridge Woman." I haven't even heard people talk about how she was a wary, responsible person who was still ready to rock with Kyle's new weird glowstick powers, or that she was a journalist, or that she just got brought back in another edition as a Green Lantern only to be revealed as an illusion and re-absorbed back into Kyle's mind. Nope. Even her fans just remember her as The Fridge Woman.

[inku-studies]

11.4.24

Happy November!

My bad for being gone so long. A lot of personal life shit happened one after the other, and I kinda disassociated the entire month. But I'm feeling a lot better, and plan to keep posting for the rest of the semester.

Midterms went well, I only had one actual test, and I got a 93/100. I'm also oh so slightly behind in music appreciation and concept dev due to a depressive episode. I'll be caught up on Wednesday, though.

Two of the officers in my club left, so i need to find replacements as soon as possible. One had a good reason for leaving, but the other's was incredibly immature and I'm still pissed about it. What really rustles my jimmies is the fact that she's in t w o of my classes so I can't just...ignore her lmao. However, I'm keeping my composure pretty well so there's no need to worry about an outburst.

There's honestly a lot more to yap about but I don't want this to get too long haha.

Here's my notes for music appreciation 🧡

[arumbleinthedark]

Why are you in the whump community if you’re anti proship lol.

Because I was once neck deep in the proship community and I didn't like what I saw.

I'm anti censorship, I'm anti harassment, I'm pro kink, but I have my reasons for not wanting to be associated with proshippers.

In fact, I've also been neck deep in the anti community, and a lot of them are on thin ice as well.

I don't want to be associated with either of them, because this is a relatively new thing in fandom and I honestly think I'm way to old to get involved with it. But unfortunately the Internet has become a cesspit of black and white thinking and "you're either with us or with them" rhetoric that quite frankly disgusts me.

If you want specific reasons why:

A large majority of the proship community are also within the radqueer and "paraphilla" community. (I'm putting paraphilla in quote because while it is a legitimate medical term, it's been appropriated by these people.) Radqueers and "paraphiles" are yet another ploy to try and normalize "MAPs" and Zoophiles under the assumption that they're valid because they're "no contact" or "limited contact" even if they're actively in a relationship with a minor. They also use grooming tactics such as the invention of "Adult Attracted Minor" to try and convince minors that it's normal and progressive to be in a relationship with an adult. This all just gives pedophiles and zoophiles the freedom to hide behind "But it's fictional!" which is exactly the type of thing I was concerned about when I first heard of Proship. Yes, it's fictional, but that doesn't change the fact that you're using it to try and normalize your cause.

A lot of proshippers have a superiority complex, acting like people who are emotionally affected by fanart and fanfiction are idiots. On the other hand, a lot of antis have a morality complex, which is where the purity culture surrounding fandom stems from. You're not special because your jimmies don't get rustled by a rape fic or because you felt icky about a pairing.

Neither side can stop talking about each other. It's gets really old after a while. If you're so unbothered by antis, why do you keep talking about how stupid they are? If you hate proshippers so much, why do you keep engaging with their content and then posting about how sickened you are? Make it make sense.

There's a huge misunderstanding about fanworks in general, mainly from antis. We're all in agreement that fanworks are mainly made for the one who created them, but that brings about the assumption that all creators get pleasure from what they create, especially when sexual activity is involved, and that the creator supports and encourages the content. Antis seem to think that someone who makes "problematic" content has some ulterior motive, and a lot of proshippers seem to think that "problematic" content is made to specifically cater to them. This leads to issues where people are afraid to create something that's controversial. I've seen people hold off on sharing their content publicly because "I don't want people to harass me because they think I'm supporting it" or "I don't want creeps to praise it thinking that I'm actually into this stuff."

There's also the issue with people who are creating this kind of content to process trauma. Either they're being told to not post it publicly or to "cope harder," or they'll see someone compliment their work only to find out that they're into l*li shit. People reposting NSFW art made for this reason to R34 image boards, almost always without the artists knowledge or input, is also part of the problem.

Antis are not the only community that sends death threats or tells people to "kys." Proshippers do it too.

Don't get me started on the antis who think shipping a poc character with a white character is racist or a "power dynamic" or who infantilize people with disabilities by saying that disabled and autistic characters can't be shipped because they're "minor coded." There was an entire flowchart floating around at some point that gathered all these things together and while I got a good laugh out of it I was also deeply disturbed that there are people who actually think this way.

Both communities are also concerningly cult-like in nature and I've had people from both sides attempt to manipulate me into their mindset.

So, yeah, I hope that answers your question.

[kidalias]

Friendly reminder that you don't have to be trans to be a trans icon.

It's unfinished but idc. Had this in mind for a while then a "Samus isn't trans" thing showed up and rustled my jimmies.

Firstly, her being trans doesn't stop her from being a woman. This is just more representation not "taking away a strong female character." Second, yes, in the canon of the games she's cisgender, but that doesn't matter because it's fiction anyway. You can provide all the evidence you want to argue anything about a story, but any additional information can be added or assumed on the audience's side if they want to. It's even encouraged to do so if that makes the story better. Third, it straight up makes the story better. The idea of the first game was just a standard "the best bounty hunter in the galaxy fights the most dangerous monsters in the galaxy." And then, on a whim, they creators thought "Hey let's make this generic guy a girl." That is the one thing people remember most about those early days of Metroid. Samus' gender was a plot twist. It was something that said, "Hey! Look! It's not some guy, it's a woman! Aren't you surprised?" And then the next thought that comes to mind might be, "Why are you surprised? What about this is surprising to you? A woman went and did all that and you're actually caught off guard? Why?"

It directly challenges our presumptions about gender. And this is the lifeblood of the entire franchise. Samus consistently finding herself up against the worst the galaxy can throw at her and then overpowering them against all the odds while someone somewhere sits in disbelief. (The audio logs in the Prime games, Adam the computer in Fusion.) This is a marvelous story for a trans character!

[wisemins]

If it please m’lord, can you share some Miya x Armin songs? :D 💛💕💛

AMIRAAAA YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL You speak my language!!! I have quite a few, time to pick them out from the archives. ❀ Mirror - Porter Robinson SELF ESTEEM ISSUES both of us, but it's a song about getting better. I think of us a lot when I listen to it because I know we both struggle so hard with that. It feels sweet though, and it makes me feel safe knowing he'd want the best for both of us! ❀ Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel LOVE THIS SONG FOR US it's very somber and soft yet builds up to something so powerful just MWAH MWAH perfection. Reminds me of more like, troubling times in canon when things start to get really difficult for everyone. I associate more with Armin and me though because we're always trying to bring people together and build bridges instead of burning them (*stares at Eren*), we have that in common a lot when it comes to working together strategically and inter-personally! ❀ Fare Thee Well (Dink's song) - Performed by Oscar Isaac and Marcus Mumford This song reminds me of a.ot in general it's just a deep association I have with me and that canon entirely and it means something different depending on who I'm with. It can be very melancholy given what time period I'm thinking of or a good sort of like, end game song to think of when I want to imagine how things would be between me and Armin after everything is said and done canonically. ❀ Boy With Luv (Feat. Halsey) - BTS Now I will say I listen to BTS sparingly (I'm more of a GOT7 girlie) and Halsey-- well I don't even listen to her at all but this song is very much associated with Armin and Jean! I like this song a lot, gives me happy thoughts about them! It serves me a lot in modern AU. ❀ THURSDAY - GOT7 Love this song!!!! my k-pop is showing 🫣 but in general I associate all my a.ot endeavors with k-pop like so heavily due to the older fandom days. But this song is also another groovy modern AU jam that reminds me of Armin and Jean! Makes me think of them very softly and like, spending time with them shopping or going out and doing fun things!

Thank you for asking!!! I love talking about music it rustles my jimmies in all the right ways!!! ILYSM TYYYY <33333

[richardsondavis]

So I went to the Skullgirls official YouTube channel and went to check some of the videos there, especially the shorts.

So before the grand censorship of Skullgirls, sometime before July, the views were about in the tens of thousands. Then there's a day there where the views just dipped.

So I went and checked some of the comments over some of the shorts and I say, it's more civil than I thought it'd be. I took the liberty of screenshotting some of them and a particular title from a short on the Skullgirls YouTube channel.

So the first one.

There's a particular phrase within this exchange that really exemplifies how I feel about myself during this entire debacle and me still wanting to play and support Skullgirls Mobile.

"I personally won't insult them but if they still support the game after that, it changes my view of that person."

This just makes me so sad. This stranger, whom I most likely won't ever meet, would think bad of people like me. Would think bad of me. Would see me as an enemy. As a lesser being. This rustles my jimmies.

Yes, I find the censorship abhorrent but I'm not that petty to abstain from playing the game because, contrary to popular belief, the game still runs fine. Yes, a certain aspects of Skullgirls soul has been taken by the censorship and a few key details that made some narratives within the game be more layered but I'm not one of those people who makes analyses. I'm just your average Juan that wants to play a game because I find it fun.

During these kinds of controversies, there's always a question I have. Am I the villain here?

I prefer the official translations of manga save for the ones from Seven Seas. I find scanlations to be terribly inconsistent. Am I the villain here?

Kurzgesagt made a video that said they were wrong and a huge chunk of folks online claim that Kurzgesagt pushes an agenda. I still enjoy watching their videos, am I the villain here?

Skullgirls, a franchise that I was made aware of through their mobile game, who during the pandemic has helped me cope with the time and the mental anguish away, the elements game which drew me in was the sexiness, the panty shots and the art style plus the gameplay and gacha elements. There has been an update that censors various elements in the game. I still play and have made purchases in their mobile game because I enjoy the game. Am I the villain here?

Although I do love how the conversation ends. So mature.

I consider myself to be part of the new audience and making Skullgirls Mobile be a hit everywhere should be something I should strive for. Maybe I'll try to do just that.

Edit: Just noticed the last comment said they're a SGM player as well. Coolio.

Then there's this exchange. Judge for yourself, ladies and germs.

Edit: So this one is something. "Real fans" they say. What makes a fan? Is it money spent or time spent? Is it saying how much you love the thing? I can say that I am a fan of the SCP Wiki. That I spent countless hours reading the articles, learning the lore. I was not big on communities but I know what I know and I loved every second I spent reading those articles. Then the drama happened and the dip in the quality of writing.

I was disappointed with how things really turned out but I still hold the wiki dear to my heart. I remember just going around and collecting various artworks online of SCP. I also found joyreactor through my searches of other SCP media.

Was it a phase? Am I not a fan? Similar to Skullgirls or the mobile version of it? I was late to the party but I liked the game and I took the time to learn all that I could about it. I am disappointed with the censorship. What can I say? I'm not a true fan. I'm just a guy who finds it appealing but ain't willing nor do I have the drive and moral to oppose this vehemently. I was ignorant of the LGBSCP thing but I noticed the dip in the writing quality. The difference between Skullgirls and the SCP thing to me is that SCP truly abandoned its roots for something else and it's not really something I'm rooting for. A few gems but nothing like Series 1.

Skullgirls, I can tell, are still horny. Black Dahlia has panty shot. Cerebella, Parasoul, Valentine. They have the pantsu shot. I always intend to know the nuance. I have screenshot Filia and Cerebella to see if one can see their underwear in the frames. I have found out that you still can but they become a "blink and you'll miss it" thing which is quite a disappointment, I must admit. They were quite a pretty sight.

P.S. I understand how they would go with making this title but...

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?

Quite low of the devs. I mean if this is how they treat their old fans, I wonder how they'd treat their still fans and newer fans. I pray they don't go full EA or Ubisoft with their game cause fucking hell.

And this is also where I got my other scrollshot. Tread with care.

[moonvalecrossing]

Alright, top 3 favorite and least Gym Leaders of Paldea?

Hell yeah Fam lets do this! PROBABLY MORE SCARLET AND VIOLET SPOILERS KIND OF. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING. Also unpopular opinions probably! I aint stopping you from liking what you like. Nobody attack me for the following!

Favorites first.

#3. Kofu. I like the colors in his design. I like that he's a friendly old man. I also liked how they used him to introduce a side activity in the game that I might otherwise have completely passed by. Even though I wound up climbing the mountain around Cascarrafa in order to get to the other town he went to because I was scared to cross the desert and run into the part of Arven's quest that was out there. I want to try his cooking.

#2. Grusha. The last gym leader is always supposed to be the strongest and I did not expect to find the Ice Type gym in this slot. Of course, but his point in the game I was a tad over leveled. By this point in the game, even when I was swapping out and training entire teams for a gym/team star/legend battle I was already thinking about what mons I'd take to the elite four and any other endgame stuff so I already had a pretty good party set up. I sorta pulled the rug out from under this cool cucumber's sassy ass. It was absolutely adorable how he was clearly embarrassed when our character asks for a picture with him after earning the badge.

#1. Larry. Larry is we all. All of us are Larry at some point. This man is so tired you guys. He just wants to get his job done. He didn't want to be a gym leader, he's just really good at it so that's his job now. The poor thing is even one of the elite four. How did they manage to make a tired salaryman a pokemon trainer? I don't know but I'm so happy he exists 10/10 I would hang out and share a meal with him when he had some time off.

Honorable mention: Ryme. Her hair is dreadlocks shaped like skeleton parts. She's a rapping old lady and that is rad as FUCK. Yes, queen! SLAY! RAISE THE DEAD. NECROMANCY!! The only thing I didn't like about her design was the fact the people who made her model made her dress so damn tight that you could see her navel through the fabric as well as the damn creases where her thighs meet her abdomen. Not even rapping grandmothers are safe from the male gaze anymore, folks. Every woman wears vacuum sealed plastic in the future.

Now the least favorites! Preface: I don't HATE these characters. Well besides the unlucky duck who's sitting at the top of the #1 slot. I kinda really hate them but we'll get to that. <3

#3. Brassius. PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS, DID YOU SKIP THAT PARAGRAPH UP THERE JUST NOW? I don't hate him. But... I don't really like him too much either. I want to, don't get me wrong. I'm a sucker for artist characters. I've always considered myself an artist. But... this guy is a lot of what I hate about artist characters. A bit abnormal? The dude was standing on the damn windmill before the battle started and implied he watched us collect those sunflora from all the way up there. He uses the word 'avant-garde' way too much. Also, gonna say it now. His pieces of art aren't that great. He's got like 200 of the same sunflora statue all over Artazon. It's not even that impressive of a statue. Just slightly exaggerated of a regular Sunflora. And whatever that other work is supposed to be... yes, okay sure Brassius is such a skilled artist that his weird thorn ring thing needs to be shown on billboards all over that one city. At least they decided to give the multiple copy pastes of this piece different colors. And then there's the class he joins in during Mr. Hassel's teachings at school. If you pick the wrong emotion when he asks how he was feeling when he made that damn sunflora statue? "No no no... completely and utterly wrong!" Look here you avant-asshole. If there's one thing that really rustles my jimmies its 'artists' who get offended at someone having an incorrect interpretation of your art. You made a mildly constipated looking sunflora statue, not some great piece depicting Arceus mourning over having no choice but sealing Giratina away. Get out of my art class before you spread your bad personality to the younger students. Don't glare at me when those creepy eyebrowless eyes. You look 24 going on 79. Burgh will always be the superior artistic gym leader!

#2. Tulip. Okay, so overall I love this woman's design. Well besides whatever the Kentucky fried fuck is going on with her eyelashes. Like, goddamn woman. Stay away from open flames they might catch fire. How do you hold you eyes open with that much weight on them? However, the design is about all I like about her. We're introduced to her gabbing on her phone. She's not thinking about the gym battle she's about to be challenged to, oh no. She's too busy planning out a makeup line with someone. And this cake-up faced woman has the gall to decide the tagline for this new line of cosmetics should be 'naturally beautiful'. Uh, honey, no. Please do not enforce the idea that 'natural' beauty needs eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick, and the whole nine yards. It's bad enough that women end up trapped in a Schrodinger's Box of being 'slutty' and 'fake' if they wear too much makeup, or looking like a corpse or they're sick if they don't have enough makeup on. When she finally deigns to get off the damn phone she's quick to let you know that being gym leader is just a side gig and that her make focus is all about makeup. She then calls our character cute and says that her ESP training made us all the more beautiful. Woman your challenge was possibly my least favorite of all of the gym challenges. It was obnoxious and all it made me feel was a strong desire to have my Annihilape break your nose. And when we finally beat her? One of the first things she says is that she should take you under her wing before we find our big break somewhere else. You stay away from me, lady. This tube of purple lipstick is all I want in life. Oh, and I hope you trip on your heels when you get back to your absolutely packed schedule. Seriously, don't quit your day job. Quit your side gig. Let me battle someone with a better personality. Also? Ryme's got better taste in makeup than you.

#1. Iono. I hate this child. I hate this child so, so much. Gamefreak did an amazing job of recreating everything I hate about the stereotypic streamer girl persona. LOL SO CUTE AND RANDOM INTRODUCTION? Punny name? Oh, Iunno, looks like it! A weird-ass crazy vtuber design? Hot damn this kid's got it all! It's a good thing she's got simps like Electro King throwing money at her because after she filed her teeth down to get those absurd spikes her dental work must be an absolute nightmare. Like Tulip, Iono is clearly more focused on her job outside of working as a gym leader. She only cares about how many views you can get her. She even says as much before introducing her gym 'challenge'. We can't 'collab' with her unless we play a cheap man's version of where is waldo with some random guy she pulled off the street (who luckily just so happened to be someone we could easily recognize). If we can't get this narcissistic cotton candy brat the views she wants, we'll fail. Were I actually in this universe, my gym challenge would have ended right here because I would have called her out on that shit, walked right out of the gym, filed a complaint with the league, and bought tickets to the furthest away region I could as well as got my legal name changed as soon as I touched down. I'll be carrying my best pokemon on me at all times because there's no way in hell I'm getting jumped by rabid manlets because I called out their waifu. My brother keeps telling me she's a grown ass woman. Yeah, okay. I don't care how many thousands of years old that dragon loli is she looks like a child. The final cherry on this sundae is how she signs off after losing her gym battle. I'm guessing she's supposed to do that heart symbol with her hands as the camera zooms in on it but, unfortunately, her designers decided to give her some bigass sleeves that cover her hands. So in that split second zoom we get, all I saw was the camera zoom in on this child-looking streamer's non-existent boobs. Fantastic and not the least bit unfitting. I bet Electro King had more pokebucks for her after that one. Also she did what I absolutely hate and had an electric type that's immune to ground types because of FUCKING LEVITATE. Fuck. I hate that ability so goddamn much. How dare you make me dislike Mismagius in any way.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[ontheticktick]

@oozeyboozey - [MAFIA AU]

Within his life, Wade had managed to at least be WELL-TRAVELED, for whatever the fuck that was worth. From his time in Special Forces to his entire career as a Mercenary, he had probably visited a couple DOZEN different countries. And yes, he had been to Russia before. He had GOTTEN WORK there both in Spec Ops and as a Merc, and both times, he'd been getting paid by HIGH LEVEL GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS.

The fact that there was anyone that could seemingly be above all of that corrupt nonsense that ran the country was...DIFFICULT to comprehend. The confidence with which Anya carried themselves though was somehow convincing enough for him to not back out. Either she rolled consistent NAT 20 IN CHARISMA...or what they were telling him really was just the truth of the matter.

He REALLY hoped that her confidence was earned. And he was IMMENSELY GLAD that he had always operated anonymously in Russia. There was essentially no risk of him being recognized, since he'd been wearing a MASK for his business.

"No...no, I'd never DREAM of insulting any of the skills of the person that signs my check," Wade assured her as he hurried to follow behind her without CROWDING HER. "It's just that I've not always been what you'd call a GENTLEMAN IN MASCOW, so it's just a little jimmy-rustling to be back. Nothin' I can't deal with. If I gave up every time I was in a place where people didn't like me, I'd have jumped into an ACTIVE VOLCANO a long time ago."

Once they exited the plane, Wade did stand up taller, and his demeanor shifted as his eyes scanned out over the are. He was able to take in and process a lot all at once, something that Loki had found value in. The two of them walked towards the car and he kept his voice low.

"So when you say no questions, do you mean about work OR life? Gotta tell ya, gonna be super hard to be your date if I know literally nothing about you other than the fact that you can magically produce a weapon on a whim."

His  muttering  had  been  quiet  ,    but  it  didn't  mean  she  missed  it.  The  comment  made  her  smirk  slightly  ,    and  had  they  NOT  been  running  late  ,    she  would  have  been  more  willing  to  comment  back  about  it.  But  the  fact  was  that  she  wasn't  expecting  to  have  to  EXPLAIN  all  of  this  to  him  ,    &  seeing  as  Wade  had  been  something  tossed  in  her  day  after  it  had  already  gone  underway ... She  had  to  make  due  with  what  she  had.

" Don't  worry  Wilson ... This  is  actually  one  of  the  safest  places  I  could  be  in.  Surprising  as  it  may  seem. "    It  really  was  a  FUNNY  thought.  That  someone  could  be  safe  in  the  side  of  the  country  they  were  about  to  walk  into ... But  her  family  on  her  mother's  side  essentially  ran  Moscow.  She  wouldn't  have  brought  Christofor  with  her  if  she  didn't  think  it  was  safe  enough.

She  stood  up  from  where  she  was  sitting  ,    knowing  he  would  follow  along  ,    &  grabbed  her  things  before  heading  for  the  exit  of  the  plane.    " If  you're  that  worried  about  dying ... I  should  wonder  if  that's  an  insult  on  your  survival  skills  ,    or  mine. "

If  they  were  being  honest  ,    it  was  actually  kinda  CUTE  watching  the  new  guy  flounder  around  trying  to  perform  under  her  terrifying  hazing.  A  few  of  the  more  senior  members  of  her  father's  employ  used  to  WARN  new  guys  about  her  tendency  to  try  and  get  them  to  mess  up.  She  grew  out  of  it  eventualy  ,    but  every  now  and  again  she  found  some  amusement  in  making  it  just  a  little  more  difficult  for  them.  Especially  when  they  reacted  like  Wade  did.

She  cast  those  thoughts  away  QUICKLY  though  as  they  exited  the  plane.  Looking  immediately  to  the  car  waiting  for  them  ,    and  nodding  with  satisfaction  upon  seeing  her  son  safely  in  the  car.  Every  sign  of  smooth  sailing  being  something  Anya  welcomed  with  open  arms  ,    but  much  like  her  parents ... Never  FULLY  let  her  guard  down.

[queercode-my-minecraft]

Ho postato 3.080 volte nel 2022

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#they don’t tell you that when you’re five years old and your mom buys you shorts for school you’ll end up wearing them until you’re thirty

I miei post migliori nel 2022:

#5

Just finished watching Jimmy’s 12th episode and I’m honestly surprised more people don’t ship him and Pirate joe

Other thing is how the Sheriff always carries around the deputy badge. Are you waiting to give it back to someone sir??

80 note - Postate 8 ottobre 2022

#4

ur prompts thing... tango + jimmy's respawn but tango just needs a hug?

Words: 395 Relationship/s: Ranch/Doom Duo, mostly platonic but with some romantic undertones Warnings: mention of death, implied panic attack Notes: This took longer than necessary and I'm not entirely satisfied with it (but, I guess that is just a reaction from not having written anything in months) but I still hope you enjoy anon!

“Wha-?”

When he was able to utter those words Jimy had already respawned. Standing upon brilliant green grass, and the shade of the tree surrounding him a refreshing break from the overwhelming summer heat.

He blinked a couple of times, his confusion fizzling out as he heard leaves rustling above him, a weight shifting from branch to branch.

Before he could stop and investigate the weirdness of the tree something fell. A blur of red and golden crashed against the ground and Jimmy felt it.

Of course he felt it. They were soulmates.

“Jimmy?”

“Tango?”

He carefully helped him up, feeling his body shake ever so slightly under his hands, “What happened?”

“I- uh,” Tango’s bright red eyes squinted, turning towards the forest before them, “Ah. Just a- zombie, a skeleton, so many zombies and…”

“A creeper?” Jimmy finished, the characteristic feeling of the warmth of being blown up still sizzling below his skin.

“Yeah, shit, man. I’m sorry,” Tango shuddered against him and Jimmy held him closer.

He turned to look at him, eyes blown wide and Jimmy could only guess what were the thoughts that were running behind them, “I really didn’t mean to kill you- the both of us. I’m so sorry-”

Jimmy smiled, hoping it would look reassuring, “Hey, it’s alright man! I always die, I’m used to it by now. Don’t sweat-”

The shaking, despite Jimmy’s best efforts, didn’t stop. 

“I- uh, Tango?” he murmured, voice softening as he turned him in front of himself, holding his shoulders whilst still keeping him close, “It’s alright, man. We’re here, we’re alive. It’s okay.”

And, despite Jimmy not really knowing Tango, despite him having every reason to be angry at him and shove him away, he held him closer. He had moved his arms around him, embracing him tightly, as if afraid that if he let him go he would die again.

It was odd, he thought, as Tango’s breathing calmed down, how their heartbeats were in perfect unison. And, how, despite having never shared more than quick conversations, it felt right to hug him.

“So, what now? Not that I don’t appreciate the hug, but I think my items are despawning.”

That was enough for Jimmy to return back to reality and to drop his arms at his sides, as his cheeks reddened, probably from embarrassment. Nothing else.

“Oh, yeah. Right!”

86 note - Postate 23 giugno 2022

#3

Horrible headcanon: Empires False is actually Hermitcraft False from the alternate timeline where Mumbo won the season 7 election

124 note - Postate 24 agosto 2022

#2

I showed a picture of the during of this project, but finally I finished it!

And you might recognise what this theme park project was of

More details under the cut!

This was made for my Scenography class where we had to take a theme and make a ride for it, as if we were going to place it in a theme park

I chose Grian’s season nine base, and had to adapt it to the project, of course. So, you can see the often precarious walkways that make it through the entire floating rocks

The scale was 1:60 meters, as you can see by the very very tiny Grian at the bottom

172 note - Postate 18 novembre 2022

Il mio post numero 1 del 2022

I’ve come to the realisation that the most important thing about Jimmy’s relationship (in season one of empires Flower Husbands, in double life with Tango, and now with whatever him and fWhip have going on) is that it’s other person that develops the crush on him first

258 note - Postate 28 agosto 2022

Guarda ora l'Analisi del tuo anno 2022 di Tumblr →

[handdrawnfantasma]

thinking this morning abt a post i saw a while ago which i should have saved bc it had things in it that i disagreed with that i now cannot quote with any accuracy (life tip: save the posts u disagree with bc it means that when u finally figure out WHY u disagree with them you will actually be responding to what was actually there instead of your plato’s allegory of the cave version of it)

anyway

the post in question, iirc, was talking about like........ i think the crux of one of its arguments in support of its point was this idea of fanfiction being somehow unable to draw or explore characters with the same depth as an original work - so you can already see why i disagreed with it in spite of the fact that the main point it was trying to support was one that i DO agree with - which is that the trend of turning your fanfic into Original Fiction Do Not Steal by just “filing the serial numbers off” needs to stop bc it’s a bad way of trying to create original fiction. anyway one of the points the author made in support of their main statement was that true fanfic should be rooted in the love and exploration of the original world and therefore the original work, and so that’s why so many AU fics fall flat

and i just had to stop and pause to reassess how apparently the way this person approaches the very concept of AU fanfics is apparently so diametrically opposed to my own bc i AM The AU Warlock who is only capable of writing really weird niche AUs, and i don’t think i have ever approached any AU without this being my driving mission statement:

[ image ID: the Parks and Rec “It’s about the cones” meme with the subtitle text changed to read “It’s about the shared narrative themes” ]

ANYWAY i don’t know if i had a point with this post at all, but it really is interesting sometimes to get a glimpse of how some people truly live in an entirely different world to the one you inhabit huh

[safarigirlsp]

Omg what a great idea to make it a witch/witch Hunter thing too! Also, I love Vermillion 1&2!

The beginning scene is wonderful and reads like Alice H but much better! I love the idea of her keeping the injured goat! And this was hilarious and exactly how those people would think.

To proclaim Lilah a witch right then seemed unfair.

It was cowardly too, to admit this wisp of a girl with her clever eyes and steady voice unnerved gnarled men with deep lines in their faces and hands that could swing a pickaxe for hours.

I love the witch torture scene and Clydes reaction! It’s so vivid and dark and easy to picture! The backstory behind Clyde’s pout is wonderful! Definitely canon now!

It showed even worse on his face now, all these years later, because he did see. The downturn to his mouth, a scowl permanently etched on his face, deep amber eyes that seemed to be always looking through the veil of reality, off somewhere darker and worse.

The Logan family dynamic you have is so dark and fucked up and amazing! I love it!

Pa always had the mad gleam of excitement in his eyes, in his skin, shining all the brighter when they ran, when they cried. Jimmy wouldn’t admit it, but he could all too easily catch the fever from their father and later, when the work was done, emerge from it, like a somnambulist, waking up in an unknown place, with bones in his hands and blood in his mouth.

I’ve always wondered why more witch hunters didn’t have this epiphany.

If they were witches, why did none of them lift a hand to defend themselves, or been successful when they did, Clyde pondered since he was shorter than his father’s axe.

Don’t let ‘em get you started wonderin’ and doubtin’. That’s how they getcha.

I love the scene with Lilah helping Jimmy and how her relationship with the other people in town is described. It has the Alice feel, but much better written and more engaging. I love it all and this in particular!

As Jimmy’s condition improved, Lilah came less, as if she only had permission to visit a place if darkness hung in and around it.

Another great description of him! And I love Jimmy being a little jealous and turning that table.

Jimmy was weaker now and preferred to rest much longer than before, and the sight of Clyde buzzing around him – tall, strapping, and bursting with virility – embittered Jimmy.

This image and writing are so good. I love the doe vs host analogy!

On one of his long hikes through the woods, he came upon Lilah, with a satchel and paring knife in hand. She stopped when she saw him. Not like a frightened doe, sniffing the air and listening hard for any rustle of leaf made by her devourer. More like a host, finding a guest wandering through their land.

This is a wonderful line!

He looked down at his feet so she couldn’t see him smile, and wondered why he should be hiding his smiles from her.

Omg you do the dark elements so well! The writing is great and luscious, better than Alice, and then mixed the dark horror it's extra savory! I'm really loving the well written and beautiful fucked up elements! There's some quote from one of my favorite weirdos, Tom Waits, that says something to the effect of 'just because something is horrifying doesn't mean it can't be beautiful.' I'm thinking that the entire time reading this!

This is so dark and gorgeous!

He would study her, Clyde told himself. Taunt her, bit by bit, coax her into revealing herself. That was the story, to justify his attention, his inability to stay away, to seek her out. He even announced it to Jimmy and Mellie. Jimmy, who had always told him to look, urged him to swing the axe, to chase down any runaways through the dense woods, could not say anything in Lilah’s defense, no matter how much he owed her. Not after he made Clyde look, so many times, and soak his hands in blood. Mellie cried and sat by the fire with their mother, and they look similarly wretched.

I love Clyde just showing up, silently taking charge, and kissing her. I think that's so spot on for Clyde as being a silent but deadly type who would definitely be a guy who takes initiative and is generally an alpha sort of guy. It also reminds me of a favorite Vermillion line, "I get nervous, perverse, when I see her it's worse."

One morning, he skipped the long walk in the woods and appeared at her door in the afternoon. He didn’t want to lie, and he had nowhere near the heart to tell the truth, so he leaned in and kissed her without saying a word.

This is so dark and depraved, I love it! The Southern Gothic witch hunter vibe is a blast to read.

Clyde felt the familiar queasy mix of disgust and excitement that accompanied the capture of those women. Running like a mountain lion across rock faces and weaving like a vengeful ghost between trees. The dull thud of flesh when a mallet hit the soft part of the skull. The stale smell of blood and death when their carcasses drained upside down in his shed, growing rank by the time a hot morning dawned. Carrying the bodies, still whole or in pieces, and noting that some were still beautiful, even more so now that they were purified and no longer tainted.

And the transition from ^^^ to being romantic is great. I'm loving the dark romantic horror and it's so well written. You capture that vixen crazy aphid attraction beautifully!

With every twitch of a finger, every glance hidden behind dark lashes, every smile trapped between teeth before it could be spied, the tension could spill over, like a candle overturning and setting the cottage ablaze. But they reined themselves in, only just barely.  

Omg I love this!!! 💗💗💗

“Against the devil. And all his consorts.” Every word came deeper and scratchier, his throat constricted from sadness and rage in equal measure. Lilah straightened slightly and finally looked into his face. A different Clyde was looking at her now. His eyes were blown large with madness, and he seemed to be waiting for her to betray herself with one wrong move. What he might do then, she would have preferred never to find out.

This too! It's so delicious! Aggressive, dangerous Clyde is the best version I've ever read of him. You write this side of him so well! Drill Sergeant and Stolen Car Clyde were wonderful too, but this bad dude has some extra spice.

The sound of manacles slamming roughly on the counter behind her made her jump and drop the cup of wine. She turned as fast as a mouse springing away from a trap, but Clyde was faster, his arm darting like a snake at her, catching her throat in his massive hand.

The hair porn we got with Clyde and Jacques was so nice! Jacques when he's raping and whimpering, and Clyde when he's jerking on the thing to try to get his sucked off arm back. I love picturing it here, and with him all hot and bothered again.

Dewed with sweat and wild-faced, he shook off the hair sticking to his face and panted, pressing his arm across her chest so she was held in place.

I love these descriptions! Especially the part about the Logans and the Clyde that belonged to them!

Good, he thought, feeling a hot, persistent knot throb at the base of his spine, striking a match to light that uneasy mix of torture and lust. He retreated back into the Clyde that belonged to the Logans; raised in squalor, depravity, bathed in blood and fed on fear and hate. Whatever else he had tried to become in the warmth of her fire, in the sweat-soaked caress of her body, it had failed.

The entire Hannibal scene is so dark and decadent, and disturbingly sexy. As it should be! Definitely right up our alleys! I loved the Hannibal scene, but reading it like this with Clyde makes it 1000% better.

He pulled back, drunk on her, with eyes at half mast and full of midnight, and watched her as she worked to hold onto her strength and dignity. “Would you ever tell me - stop?” he asked seriously, challengingly. “If you loved me, you would stop?

The terrible things he wants to do to her are so fitting for him in this AU, and I love the way your mind works lol.

I LOVE the context of the title! I can picture it from Clyde and what a hot scene.

“This’ll hurt like hell, darlin’,”

The way you do Southern Gothic is lush and dark, and really embodies the vibe and atmosphere that intends. The writing is like the perfect mix between a much much better version of Alice H and southern gothic. The Hannibal ending is the absolute best and Clyde’s perfect in it! That’s 1000% canon as to how he loses his arm.

This was such a delight and a guilty pleasure to read! What a wonderful AU and idea for Clyde, combined with probably *the* most romantic scene involving a serial killer! Thank you so much for writing this! I absolutely love it! I never expected to get witch hunter Hannibal Clyde, and I love him!

Birthday Week Vignettes

*

As a little gift for my bestie and worstie, for her birthday week, I’ve written a selection of fun little vignettes (stretching the terms fun, little and vignette to mean several thousand words of something gory or fucked up).

It has been the greatest and most treasured experience I’ve had on here getting to know you. From the hilarious shit talking, to expanding my horizons in terms of what I read and write, and giving each other constant new ideas and support, I am so grateful for all the downsides of existing in an online space as it’s meant making a wonderful, cherished friend. Happy birthday and may we enjoy your presence in our lives and this garbage fire for a long, long time to come! 😍😍❤️❤️😈😈 @safarigirlsp

*

Day 1; assassin!Mills x RC

*

Summary: The Museum needs two operatives to pose as a married couple and go into a chateau full of depraved people letting loose and acting out their fantasies in an Eyes wide shut-type party. That old chestnut.

A/N: I’m a sucker for going undercover as a couple, in every iteration of that trope, and undercover at a sex party is an especially fun variation. This little episode didn’t fit into my main assassin!Mills story, but it was too interesting to throw out completely, so this seems like the best way to share it. If you like the premise, I’m happy to write a conclusion for it.

CW: mentions of wlw, mlm, group sex, fetishes, voyeurism, dubcon, murder, drugs, alcohol, sex work

WC: ~5.5k

*

Cipher and Gage picked up their small leather bags soon after they landed, exiting the airport hand in hand. Cipher’s steel toe boots thumped loudly on the tiles, his long leather coat rustling with every casual move of his tall, broad frame. Gage sized him up out of the corner of her black-rimmed eye, appreciating the sexy, disheveled swoop of his sandy hair, the frosty glint of his blue eyes, his sharp jawline dusted with a few days’ growth of beard. Her eyes wandered lower, to the tight black tank top that peeked out from his unbuttoned white shirt, the studded belt drawn tight around his narrow hips, and the tightly coiled muscles of his legs working under his equally tight pants. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him in the car. Their quick encounter in the airplane toilet was too short for her appetite.

She walked briskly in her six inch shiny leather boots, barely reaching his shoulder despite the added height, feeling the chill in the airport as a gust blew under her scandalously short skirt. A man walking past them balked at what the blown up material revealed and she giggled to herself. Cipher squeezed her hand tighter and walked even faster in retaliation, leaving her to practically run to catch up with him. They barely jumped into the stretch limousine parked and waiting to take them to the rendezvous point that Rostov decided on when Cipher pulled her roughly onto his lap and glared, squeezing his large hand painfully around her thigh until she squirmed and pouted, removing her round Windsor sunglasses and giving him a plaintive look, all innocence and invitation. She had often remarked that it didn’t serve him any good to get all worked up over other men ogling her like that; if he wanted an attractive and flirty wife like her, then there were consequences to deal with.

They had enough time to redress and clean up as well as could be managed on a backseat when the limousine pulled up on Museum property. The partition rolled down and an Acquisitions operative pointed the barrel of a gun at the pair.

*

The heavy metal door creaked and moaned as it was pushed open for Adriane. She entered the small circular cell, windowless and bleached by harsh white halogen lights, where Cipher and Gage sat bound and gagged.

Without gracing either with eye contact, Adriane walked briskly, sweeping an elegant circle around the small cell, her heels clacking an ominous rhythm on the concrete floor. “In a moment, you will be separated. You will never see each other again,” she spoke the chilling words quietly and emotionlessly, as though to herself, as she circled the young pair like a crow awaiting carrion to feast on. “Whoever talks first will go free. The other will not leave this place alive.” She tossed the last words over her shoulder as she slipped like a shadow out the door and it closed heavily behind her.

She was not negotiating. She was not trying to entice them with anything only to pull the rug out from under them, as other people they had dealt with in the past had. The pair understood the danger they were in as they locked eyes, determined to leave this place together, and alive.

*

30 minutes, my office. A, the letters scrolled across the beeper in your hand.

When you arrived, with a minute to spare, you were feeling pretty smug about yourself that you managed not to be late, to say nothing of the fact you were chosen as the operative to be entrusted with this last minute, highly sensitive task.

Adriane’s office looked like the wardrobe department of some grungy photo shoot, with distressed denim, faux leather, fishnets and studs galore. Racks and racks of clothing were hurriedly rolled in, no doubt for the purpose of outfitting for this impromptu exhibition you were going on.

“Our guests have a meeting with their prospective employer this evening. We intercepted the coordinates Rostov provided and took Cipher and Gage on a detour here,” Adriane informed as Mills strode out from behind a rack with an armful of clothes. You looked from him to Adriane, wondering if this was some test and her omitting he would be there was supposed to catch you by surprise. Satisfied you did not betray your heart jumping into your throat, you diverted your attention to the racks of female clothing surrounding you.

“Won’t he know we’re not them? You know, when he looks at us?” you asked too snarkily for someone who knew Adriane wouldn’t waste anyone’s time if this was a real concern.

“Rostov doesn’t know what they look like. Both he and our guests are too discreet in their dealings to allow something like that. And the private party you are attending is designed to ensure privacy. At least where your faces are concerned.”

You felt a nervous knot tie in your gut, thinking ahead at what the night would more than likely demand of you. “And their stupid nicknames?” you asked, forcibly casual, as you pressed a red plaid skirt to your hips, wondering if it would even cover half your ass.

“For the same reason. They are decently intelligent, cautious people in their business dealings, even if their behavior otherwise is questionable. Under different circumstances, they might have been potential operatives for the Museum. As it stands, their use is limited to a single outing.”

You followed Adriane to her laptop computer, as thick as a briefcase, sitting in front of her leather chair, with a video paused. Scattered on the desk were photos of Cipher and Gage, taken over the last few weeks, as evidenced by the changes in the color and style of their hair. They were photographed several times in rather compromising positions, not that they seemed to mind. Gage was always smiling brightly when her hand was shoved possessively in Cipher’s back pocket, and he was not shy about embracing her in a town square and kissing her with what you personally deemed to be an excess of tongue, with both his hands on her ass, peeking out of another too-short skirt. Frenzied moaning and the squeak of leather grabbed your attention and you looked up at the video Adriane played.

“This was just over an hour ago, in the back of the car we sent for them,” she informed, looking unimpressedly at the screen.

The parallels between you and Julian were not lost on you. Two people, outrageously in love, killing for a living. Except the pair rutting wildly in a limo were free to be out in the open, not concealing anything from anyone, while you could only look at Julian askance and steal brief moments when you were sure no one was looking, which was hardly ever.

“The girl has great stamina,” you quipped, averting your eyes discreetly. From their copious, almost defiant public displays of affection, you didn’t imagine either would be bothered to know a few people had watched some blurry, low resolution footage of their intercourse, but the aversion was for your sake, not letting the Museum make a voyeur out of you. It was enough they made you a ghost and a killer.

“You need to become Cipher and Gage for the duration of this Exhibition,” Adriane underscored. “They are ruthless, reckless, and passionate. Their reputation precedes them in Rostov’s inner circle.”

“We understand,” Mills assured, seeming to imply that even if you didn’t quite get it, he did.

Adriane came up to stand next to you and snatched the blue tinged, white rimmed sunglasses off your face, replacing them with a dark, edgy pair more in line with Gage’s confirmed style. “Rostov is a hedonist with wild delusions of grandeur. He will try to flirt with you, and his demands are known to go far,” she informed in a tone that signaled you were to go along with it, as far as necessary.

“I’m cool,” you shrugged, stomach twisting with disgust you were still not entirely able to suppress.

“He will likely flirt with you too, Julian,” Adriane said in the same demanding tone to him.

“Mh,” he grunted vaguely, shucking on a leather biker jacket and ruffling his hair, as he studied his reflection, deciding if it all came together just right for Cipher.

You barely contained a grin, thinking of this scrawny little man, twisted with perversion, trying to entice the architectural marvel that was Julian Mills.

A clink of metal on hard wood rang through the air. “Put these on.”

Julian made his way to Adriane’s desk first, picking up the two rings with discreet tracking devices installed inside. He deftly slipped the smaller one up to the knuckle of his ring finger and let the other one drop. You followed moments behind and picked up the ring off the desk. It gaped around your ring finger, looking too big even for your thumb.

“Doesn’t fit,” you dismissed, setting it down and pushing it towards Adriane.

“Let me,” Julian said lowly, his long, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brought your hand up and twisted the ring off his finger, sliding it carefully over yours and inspecting his work when he was done. He seemed to approve of the way your hand looked adorned with his wedding ring.

He then picked the other ring up and set it in your hand, expecting you to put it on him.

“Do I have to love, honor and obey?” you looked up at him as he offered a waiting hand. His silence filled the air with crackling intensity and you fought with yourself not to look away.

“Just obey,” Adriane answered for him and brought the moment to an end. Without ceremony, you slipped the ring on Julian’s finger and turned away from both of them.

Obey, you scoffed inwardly. Love was easy. Honor, you conceivably could. The only demand they both had of you was the one you struggled with most.

“You leave in 15 minutes,” Adriane informed as dispassionately as ever.

Before you left, curiosity got the better of you. “You got all this information out of them… Which one cracked?”

“They both did, of course,” Adriane gave a serene, composed smile, assured in the Museum’s methods.

“So who got to go free?”

Adriane blinked and for a moment, you had the distinct sense a huge grin would slice across her face. A jeering, hideous one, mocking your naiveté. “You should go get ready,” was all the reply she would give, and all the reply you needed.

*

As you descended in the gold-adorned elevator, on your way to the armory, Julian was quiet, looking at his panel and committing every detail of the plan, of Cipher and Gage’s history and activities, of intelligence on Rostov - all he could - to memory.

“Why was I chosen for this task?” you asked, choosing the opposite approach to Julian’s and clearing your mind before jumping into the task at hand.

He was silent as you descended for several levels and you started to assume he had not even registered your question. “It was an opportunity to improve your field mechanics,” he answered like a politician on the campaign trail.

Silence then followed from you. “Field mechanics,” you repeated, deeply unconvinced.

He turned and looked hard at you, pleading with you to hear what he was not allowed to say. “Adriane is under the impression that we are convincing as two people in love.”

It was not a compliment. The words had the cadence of a slur, and his tone of regret. It was not a good thing at all. He narrowed his eyes, satisfying himself that you took his meaning correctly.

*

The warm sunset, full of purples and oranges, gave way to a fine evening as you drove outside the city. As soon as you exited, you donned your masks as a precaution, wary of how far Rostov’s eyes reached. Yours was a white mask that extended into a crescent moon shape above your forehead and under your chin. Along its edges and around the eyes, the mask was outlined in silver and small stars twinkled along its face. Julian’s mask was white and gold, representing the sun, with five curvy rays creating an inverted pentagram around the smooth white face of the mask, adorned with golden arabesque designs. You looked at each other once the masks were on and the eerie blank canvass they presented, not knowing what face and expression they hid, was chilling.

You joined the scattered trail of other cars, uniformly black and armored, as they traveled noiselessly  down a private road that would have been impossible to find without very specific instructions. The road was maintained to perfection, allowing you to glide smoothly down and weave its serpentines as they appeared without the slightest trouble. If not for the heady mix of trepidation and excitement that kept you wired and buzzing awake, you could have been lulled into a dreamlike sleep and sunk into the impenetrable darkness that surrounded you.

After stretching for what felt like an eternity, the road finally ended at a well-fortified gate, where you were ushered in and led up a lavishly landscaped path. A veritable army of masked guards stood sentinel all along the path, the entrance to a grand building and all the way to a sequestered area separated by gold stanchions and a red rope. Neither the host nor the guests wanted the security’s scrutiny while indulging in their hidden pleasures, a mistake that Julian and you were instructed to exploit. Behind unadorned gunmetal gray masks, the guards’ eyes followed every guest as they approached the rope forbidding entrance to the room beyond to all but a select few. There, you were instructed to shed your clothing and don party attire.

Rostov had purchased the magnificent château a few years back and it currently served as the crown jewel of his ostentatious tendencies and debauched proclivities. He restored it to its former glory, and had it outfitted with every modern comfort to boot, ensuring maximum pleasure and safety. It soon became the perfect place to host his monthly bacchanals, a pleasurable distraction from his usual activities of acquiring and testing biological weapons.

Invitations were handed out either to former collaborators who had displayed a keen sadistic and perverted streak, or to prospective talent, like Cipher and Gage, to ascertain if they possessed the requisite depravity of character to join in on Rostov’s activities unflinchingly. Masks and the privacy of the location guaranteed zero risk of discovery and damage to anyone’s reputation that would result from engaging in this sort of activity in a public venue.

With that in mind, you did not hesitate to disrobe. There was little to remove anyway and the mask served another useful purpose in making you bolder by hiding your face and whatever chagrined expression it might reveal. Julian watched, his eyes moving appreciatively behind his white and gold mask, as your skirt hit the floor and you removed your cropped top in one smooth movement. He waited, and at first you wondered why, but quickly surmised he meant to wait and have you undress him. You were proven right when he stepped into you as your last stitch of clothing came off and stood facing you, to shield you from any prying eyes. He did not put it beyond this rabble to be spying on guests as they changed. You slipped his trench coat off and, suddenly aware of your nakedness and his imposing proximity, made quick work of his shirt and pants, unzipping them roughly and making him flinch, before tugging them down just as harshly. Remembering your role, you chuckled, as though you had done it to tease him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, eager for the dress, as revealing as it was. Julian seemed unfazed by being completely naked in a large anteroom and offered the white halter neck satin dress for you to step into. The dress had a large slit in the side and flowed with every step, and the back was left entirely bare. It glided as smoothly as water up your body as he pulled it up and tied it at the base of your neck. He pressed his mask into your neck, in an approximation of a steadying kiss, and you felt the length of his body pressed into you, with the material of the dress dividing you leaving little to the imagination.

Julian’s attire was similarly revealing. A similar white material folded and tucked in around his hips, like the bottom half of a toga, and draped over his torso, cinched over one shoulder with a gold hoop and cascading down like a cape. He looked like an ancient marble statue, its perfection exaggerated by an impassioned artist in ardent love with his model, was brought to life.

The low thump of the music pulsed through the closed door as you neared it, and Julian brushed the bare skin of your lower back with his clever fingers as he claimed your waist, holding you close to his side as you ascended the steps and entered the party.

The renovated château was a blend of showy rococo and sleek modern styles. The dichotomy made for a luxurious experience, striking a balance between the lavish furnishings of the past and the present-day creature comforts, such as telephones, cameras, air conditioning, and modern mechanics. You followed a servant, distinguished by her plain gunmetal gray mask, into a spacious ballroom where the main activities were taking place. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn over the tall windows that lined the walls, keeping the lighting in the room low and atmospheric with only the dimmed chandeliers and scattered candelabras to set the mood. Dry ice created a mist swirling around the floor and ghosting around your steps. Erotic house music filtered in from the speakers embedded high above, and its thumping bass rattled in your bones as it provided a steady rhythm to rut to.

You passed sections of the ballroom, some divided by pillars and more heavy drapery, others raised on a dais, and each offered different activities. In some, more accessible areas, guests mingled and leaned masked faces close to exchange conversation and toasts, lifting only the bottoms of their masks to take quick sips. On a chaise longue, red and trimmed in gold, lay a man with his toga hiked up around his waist, straddled and vigorously ridden by a woman with nipple piercings connected by a series of chains and pendants, and her dark skin extensively tattooed. A small group of people, in various stages of undress gathered around them and commented on the participants and their activity.

You passed onto a higher level, leaving the couple behind you, and noticed that this area had raised platforms around one central viewing point. Each platform had two red leather sofas, one lower and one higher, permitting more positions and participants, surrounded by several waist-high columns. Each column held an object for members to use, either for pleasure or pain. You took in a few, including phallus-shaped implements, ball gags, riding crops, and pliers. In the viewing area, more of those comfortable chaise longues were laid out for those wishing to observe. Several platforms were currently occupied, but one drew your attention. A masked woman had her long legs wrapped around two men, one inside of her, the other inside of the man between them, and the three were being observed by a masked man in a black robe. He was one of Rostov’s inner circle, designated by his robe as untouchable – unless he asked to be – and irrefusable. His build was wrong; he was too young and too fit to be Rostov, so you moved on.

Sooner rather than later, you remembered as the stench of too many bodies fucking in an enclosed space hit your nostrils, you would have to engage in some activity yourself, lest your restraint draw unwanted attention. Even now, you felt appraising eyes land on you and Julian as you passed. You could not blame them. For all the young and attractive participants present, paid or drugged, who walked around and offered themselves like hors d’oeuvres to be sampled, they smacked of sex workers who were only doing a job. Some had the shaky, twitchy physique of junkies, while others had the used up bodies of veteran sex workers. You and Julian, by contrast, were trained by the Museum to be lethal, and having looks to kill was not a mere phrase where you came from. All those lessons in walking runways, learning classical dances, gymnastics, yoga, and the subtle art of erotica over the two years of your training made you both stand out in the most noteworthy way. Every step showed off your bodies, effortless grace and proud bearing; every brush of your fingers against Julian’s sculpted arm promised something more between you, and you felt eager eyes follow you, hoping to witness the moment you decided to take it farther.

The sounds of leather cracking and moans, quickly drowned out by delighted praise or mockery, led you into a large chamber, lined with ornate columns. A red carpet painted the floor red and several servants walked unobtrusively around with smoking censers, diffusing aphrodisiac scents around the cavernous chamber and perfuming the aroma of sex before it grew stale. In its center sat a long table, with a smorgasbord of men and women on top. From your vantage point, you could see two women with their heads between the other’s legs, one on her back, the other over her on her knees, both writhing and exaggerating their pleasure as their surgically enhanced breasts jiggled in one unmoving spot. Next to them were two handsome men on their sides, performing the same act and moaning deeply around the other’s shaft. In the middle was a piano bench with three women of widely varying ages in an embrace, busily alternating positions and acts. Around the table sat the more important attendees, watching, some stroking themselves or others under the table. The first woman you’d seen dressed in a black robe sat on the lap of a bony old man, his skin hanging like wet paper over his frame. She wriggled on his lap from his touch under her robes and pulled up a sleeve to offer her arm. He produced a syringe and injected her with a cloudy substance before resuming his ministrations. Julian walked by and caught the woman’s attention. She reached out for him and he extended her a hand, letting her pull him in close as she arched her back and spread herself across the table for him to sample. Julian loomed over her until she couldn’t wait anymore and tugged on his arm, splaying his large hand over her comparatively small breast, instructing him to knead at her chest. He did so, leaning closer over her so he could swipe the empty syringe from the floor and tuck it into the folds of his clothing. When he accomplished his task, he disengaged from the woman and you could see her roaming hand had found his way in between the folds of his toga and was trying to get in another one or two strokes as he retreated. As his partner, his wife, for the evening, you felt no need to disguise either your proprietary sense or your jealousy. Grabbing for his elbow, you jerked him towards you and spun him out of the way, positioning yourself between the woman in black and the object of both your desires. Too late it occurred to you that it could be huge mistake to challenge a high-ranking member. Your body spoke for itself, like a cat bristling and hissing, ready to claw out any eye that rested too long on Julian. You looked at her hand, suspended in midair as she considered demanding Julian back. With what relish you would break each and every finger, enjoying the snap of each knuckle. The flash in your eyes seemed to communicate this rather eloquently to the women and she turned back to the decrepit old man she was sitting on and threw her head back, her deranged laughter muffled behind her mask. The scene drew many masked faces to turn towards you and examine you with uncanny glittering eyes from behind impassive disguises. They had the eerie curiosity of carrion birds, waiting for their prey to become carcasses.

Julian drew you close, acting possessively, as if the fighting and territorial behavior was part of your foreplay. Grinding his hips into your backside, you felt him stiffen reflexively. His hands squeezed your hips and you threw your head back against his broad shoulder, letting him play out the scene and get you safely away. His hands roved up your body, following the contours of your waist and ribs. One hand slipped inside your dress and drew a lazy circle around the nipple, drawing it into a stiff peak and rolling it between his rough fingers. You let a shudder roll visibly through you and pressed your thighs theatrically together for the benefit of those savoring your reaction, creating some friction and relief. Julian’s other hand snaked up and coiled around your throat as he bent to whisper in your ear. “Fuck,” you heard a guttural grunt as he panted behind his mask, and his strained voice sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched your back into him before you could think not to and his hips responded with a deep thrust as his stiffening cock sought some relief against the curve of your ass. “We should get out of here, he’s--” words failed him and he had to swallow hard before resuming, “he’s not here.”

As you straightened up, trying to find the closest exit point and make for it, one of the marauding sex workers, emboldened by whatever chemical cocktail she was on, made her way to you and placed one hand over the breast Julian wasn’t cupping, and the other around his neck, inviting herself into your company. Not worried about causing trouble due to her rank, you unceremoniously slapped her hand away from Julian, to delighted comments and encouragements from the throng watching on. She tottered like a toddler and you knew a single push could knock her down, and in her state, she likely wouldn’t even feel it. Still, she did not take the hint and tried to touch Julian again. His hand fell away from you and you caught her wrist, twisting only a little before she crumpled into the ground.

As you turned to leave, you nearly bumped into a woman, stripped to her waist, holding a young man’s wrists over an antique letter writing desk. Another woman, with sagging breasts that suggested breast feeding several children, bound in a leather harness, was whipping the youth across the back while an old man in black robes held his hips and frantically pumped. His legs were wiry and crooked and his gut was visibly round as he worked around the protruding flesh to stick his small member into the young man. You squeezed Julian’s thigh in question, as the gesture could be viewed as announcing your eagerness to join in. He wrapped his hand around yours and stilled you, signaling no. Rostov was scrawnier than this round-bellied man. But you were likely getting close. 

Julian raised his masked head towards the upper levels of the chamber. All along the top floor were small viewing chambers, like opera boxes, and most of them held a member dressed in black, with a select guest, or guests, keeping them company. It was there he spied him.

Rostov, ever the attention seeker, was the only attendee with a mask made entirely of gold. Noticeably shorter than the naked woman accompanying him, he seemed to be watching Julian too. Without flinching or looking away, Julian stood and waited for a few beats. Finally, Rostov seemed to make up his mind and with a quick summoning gesture, a servant materialized next to you and asked you to join the host on the uppermost level.

As you were led along the balustrade to Rostov, you saw peep show-like personal rooms with acts going on in glass cages. These seemed to be one per box and, anticipating that you were brought here to perform rather than talk, you were grateful you wouldn’t be ogled by a multitude of criminals. Just one.

In one box, there was a woman in thigh-high boots and a collar around her neck, with a leash leading to some unseen master, bound to a velvet-cushioned chair. The viewer was issuing commands on what was to be done to her and you tried not to listen as you passed that box and approached another. In the glass box, a throuple was enjoying hot wax and blindfolds. At Rostov’s box, you saw a naked man wipe himself down as he exited and a pair of servants untied the woman and helped her out of a harness. The truncated scene confirmed what Julian had shared about Rostov and his penchant for more dominant men and submissive women. Gage’s impish and dominant behavior was a departure from that, so you made sure to remember not to play a meek, passive role.

The small man, hardly larger than a child, wore a golden mask that was reminiscent of hannya masks from Japanese theater, with large eyes, and a twisted grimace with a gaping mouth, revealing sharp teeth. Rostov examined Julian first, holding his large hand in his two small ones, looking at the golden band on his ring finger. He gave yours a glance to confirm he had it right, and let Julian’s hand go. As if examining a thoroughbred, he ran his hands over Julian’s thickly muscled chest, the marvelously  sculpted ridges and valleys of his arms.

“You hold Gage so close, so very close,” Rostov said in a thick accent and sighed. “I can see why.” He ran a finger over your mask, down its smooth, cool cheek, and lower still, dragging his small hand flat down your chest, down the valley between your breasts. Julian shifted his weight and his chest involuntarily puffed up, making Rostov huff a small laugh.

He walked a few small steps away, into his box, and Julian surmised he should follow. When Rostov lounged on the divan, Julian did the same, and they were at last on the same plane.

“From the moment you two walked in, I had one single thought.” He waited until Julian leaned in closer, tacitly asking for an answer. “I want to fuck your wife,” he stage-whispered, loud enough for both of you to hear. “This is a family, Cipher,” Rostov placed a proprietary hand on the back of his neck, pulling him intimately in. Without the masks, they would have been a hair away from kissing.  Julian heard Rostov’s labored breath behind his mask and was sure the man was hard to bursting, though his proportions were such that robes successfully hid on his body what they could never hope to hide on Julian. The man’s eyes devoured him, taking in his body greedily, lust shining in his beady eyes. “We do everything as a unit,” he coaxed.

Julian did not blink. He was playing the role of a man who did not share the woman he loved, and it came naturally to him. Both he and Cipher were the sort to risk powerful people’s displeasure for what they truly wanted. He observed his host, aware of his own intensely masculine appeal and let the man’s desire win out, breaking his determination and making him willing to negotiate.

“Bah,” the little man waved a frustrated hand, “I can see that your wife is not the sharing sort – for a moment there, I was worried she would break my wife’s arm when she was playing with you. And you can imagine the sort of pain in the ass she would be then,” Rostov laughed and phlegm rattled in his lungs. “I’m saddened to see you have the same sick notions of fidelity.” He sighed again and shook his head. “I’ll satisfy myself with watching you this first time, then.” With the matter decided in his mind, Rostov rolled away from him, and servants came in to escort you and Julian inside the glass box, while the pair that was in it before you came back and fell into an embrace with their host.

*

@thegrislady @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @mythrielofsolitude @house-of-cadwyn

[mara-xx217]

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.