#also THOSE FUCKING METAL ARMS i can't draw them for shit so this will have to do

[kahootqueen69]

angsty timeskip!octogoblin my beloved

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[sashaforthewin]

Fuck it, here is a very small excerpt from a long fic I'm hoping I'll someday actually finish and post. But just in case I never post the fic, I at least want to share this backstory because I think it was a pretty good one.

CW: period-typical homophobia and slur mention

+++

When Eddie saw his entire torso bare for the first time, completely uncovered from bandages, he lamented.

"Ah, no, my Hellfire demon!"

Only the bottom and very edge of his tattoo remained, the rest lost to the grotesque mass of flesh trying to knit itself together in any way it could. There were weird shiny stretched areas from skin grafts, and uneven lumpy areas from stitches and all of the tattoos on Eddie’s torso had taken damage of some sort, but he only focused on the hip tattoo.

"Probably can't even get this redone if this skin isn't gonna smooth out."

"Look, I know that club was important to you but-"

"-This wasn't a tattoo of a club logo, Steve; the club had a logo of my tattoo. Look, I know I'm being way too pissy about this but this was my first tattoo and it meant a lot to me.

"You know those little chick tracks religious people hand you? Just little zines basically but with absolute nonsense judgemental over-the-top Christian crap in them. Well, so obviously I am like a prime target for people trying to 'save me' or whatever, so I get handed them all the time. But one day this guy just started harassing me and wouldn't fucking let up. He's yelling at me and following me for blocks and finally I got fed up and turned around to tell him off and he gives me this chick track called Hellfire, which I thought was a pretty fucking cool title, actually, and it was all about how Dungeons and Dragons was summoning actual demons and turning the kids gay and making them like heavy metal and wear jewelry and grow their hair out and all this other badass shit. Like, this list was basically everything that makes me me, and there was this actually really badass drawing of a demon and the guy just wouldn't stop so I told him he was entirely right and that a demon made me this way and then I walked right over to the tattoo parlor to get the demon from the chick track tattooed on my arm.

"But then when I got in there and showed the asshole working there, he said 'you gonna get this somewhere cool or somewhere faggy like your hip' so I said 'faggy hip' obviously because fuck that guy, too. It was my first real step to sort of claiming my body for myself and specifically choosing to be the things about me that everyone wanted me to hide or not be. So, yeah, Hellfire chick track demon on my hip."

Steve watched Eddie, imagining all of this happening, and his heart broke for what he'd had to go through in life just for being authentically himself. 

Unable to think of how to respond, Steve kneeled down and very gently kissed the very bottom of the Hellfire demon tattoo that remained, careful to not touch any of the angry scarred skin. 

"Stevie, that is real sweet and all but also I'm gonna need you to knock it off unless you want to change your mind about the no-fooling-around-in-the-hospital rule."

"Sorry."

"Never apologize for kneeling in front of me. But also, get up, I don't want to have an erection in front of Blanche when she comes back in."

Blushing more than he thought himself possible, Steve got up and tried to calm down. He hadn't really thought about what he was doing until he was doing it, but once it was pointed out to him, Steve realized he was in over his head. He didn't know how to do any of this stuff with guys. 

But he's not a guy, he's Eddie. He isn't some random man, he's Steve's favorite person. And besides, they had already agreed to have no expectations about sexual activity. Obviously he knew he had just gotten close to blow job territory, but Steve wasn't sure if that was why he was feeling a bit hot; if the tension was why, or if he was just nervous about the situation. But once again he remembered this was Eddie, not just some guy, and he decided that he would at some point try to give a blowjob. Definitely not in the hospital, though. Probably not in the hospital. 

Steve snapped back to the present and watched Eddie examine the rest of his torso, trying to will away the erection he had at some point gotten while thinking of blowing Eddie. 

+++

[panicinart]

A nanny to replace with someone new part 1

Brahms x transman/transmasc reader

Please take my writing privilege away when it's past midnight

There arnt any trigger warnings here and at the moment no gendered words or pronouns is used! I guess there is a bit of queer coding(???) if you squint but nothing to serious or specific

Your phone vibrated with a new message send to you. Scrambling it out of your pants with hasty and shaking fingers while the other hand tryd it's best to not let the travel suitcases fall on the floor. Giving it a quick glance your lips curled into a smile, it was your best friend asking how the flight into the UK was.

So you gave her a quick message on how you got the worst seat imaginable. The guy next to you constantly gave you weird glances, he tryd to be sneaky about it, looking at your way when he thought you were asleep or occupied with something else. The smell that receded from him wasn't pleasant either, betting your left arm that he didn't shower for at least 3 weeks straight.

A few seats away was a couple that constantly started a loud argument with each other about the most random and unimportant things imaginable. When the fly attended tryd to calm them down the whole scenario got even more chaotic, making a kid that was another few seats away cry loudly. You would feel bad for the child if it wasn't for your enormous migraine building up. The only good thing out of the situation was when a bag of salted snacks got accedntly thrown to your way, giving you a free extra snack.

As you clicked send an announcement made it's self know with loud static noises. The train had a one hour delay. At this point your nerves were on edge. With a heavy sigh you walked out of the airport to the underground, at least there was now some time to look at the airport stores. Buying a few snacks here and there and seeing the cute souvenirs lighten up your mood a bit, and you even found a pharmacy!

Munching at your last chocolate bar and swallowing the pill for your migraine as you clumsily walked down the stairs to the subway, you eyes skimmed for a clock, and there it was, old and a bit rusty but it worked just fine showing that it's currently 7:43 pm.

'20 more minutes'

you thought, as you gave it a quick glance with a groggy look,

'Might as well give her a quick text'

•hey,sophie the train has a delay probably will come in like an hour late if everything goes well.

It took a few minutes until she texted you back

▪︎Yea I already thought that, can't have shit in public transport >:/

•yea,,, so,,, how is the babysitting going? Is the kid as bad as the last one you took care of???

▪︎Nope! How should it when it's a doll :)

•....

....

....

a what???

▪︎A doll! It's one of those weird porcelain ones that look like a small child. It's even live sized! I was already weirded out that a couple this old would have small children of their own but that? A whole new level of weird

•,,,,what are you doing with it????

does it just hang around or do you actually take care of it??

As you waited for an answer another announcement was made, the train that should come in now 15 minutes should be here earlier.

You would have made a small victorious smile if the question didn't come crashing down like an avalanche.

Why do they keep it? Why do they need a babysitter when it's just a doll? Why is it live sized? And most importantly, how in the fresh fuck did they managed to let the train come earlier the thought. While being lost in your mind with questions your phone took you back into reality when it vibrated.

▪︎Nope! I just let it sit in the corner, sometimes I put a towel or blanket over it. It's stare is really fucking creepy....

•oh,,, so free money I guess, pretty cool.

hey sophie what was the name of the family??

Something with shire right??

Chestershire??

▪︎Heelshire, why do you ask?

•just out of curiosity, maeby there is an article about them and the doll.

i mean they are a well know family so I can imagine there is something out there about them. also my train is coming later then planned.

they made an announcement that it should come earlier the thought but,,, I think I won't come over today for the sleepover, I'm just too tired, sorry for the late cancelation

▪︎It's fine (Y/N)! You had a shitty flight so I can understand that! So we see us tomorrow :) ?

•ye

▪︎Awesome, can't wait to show you the creepy doll!

And with that the chat ended, your train already making a big entrance with the loud hald of it's heavy metallic wheels.

You took the suitcase back into your hands and tumbled your way into the train.

Looking around, you accepted defeat that there was no seat left for you, your mood slowly dipping from tired annoyance to about to having a small fit. But that wouldn't help your progress, so you swallowed your anger down and leaned to one of the metallic poles. Wobbling a bit from left to right and needing to catch your suitcase to not let it roll over a passengers feet as the train started moving again.

You grabbed your phone, hesitating for a bit

'Do I really want to know what the fuck is going on or???'

You just shrugged your shoulders and gave it a go, the heelshire family is a rich pompous family you're sure there is something about them on the internet.

Aaaaand you were right, it didn't even took a second when hundreds of articles pooped up with dramatic headlines.

Terrible fire at the Heelshire mansion

Mysterious fire in Heelshire property

Heelshire, how their live turned quickly into a nightmare

These were the few that caught your interest.

You gave the articles quick reads, your tired eyes switching between almost falling shut from tiredness and going wide at the gruesome details on the tragedy.

Well that gives you a few indications on why they keep it.

'It's probably some kind of coping mechanism....'

You don't really see yourself as someone who's heart gets torn apart everytime you hear a sad and tragic story, but you still can't shake the heaviness off it all, a family losing their only child in an enormous fire that up to this day nobody knows were it came from.

Too keep your mind off the whole thing you looked outside, still having a bitter expression of the new info as you admired the houses.

It looks like your heading towards a more suburban area, making it look like one of your old English telenovela that you watch every now and then.

As the sun slowly goes down and engulfing the area in beautiful colors was quite a bit breathtaking, infact so breathtaking that you almost missed your station.

In a moment of panic you pushed yourself out of the train almost dropping a few things in it, but luckily you had everything with you.

With lazy steps towards a billboard your eyes scanned the map for the area, the bus stop wasn't far away, just a few minutes walk, but your heavy arms slowly giving up and your feet starting to hurt didn't really help.

You got your headphones out in hopes that listening to your favorite music makes the whole thing a bit more bearable.

Even tho it was just a tiny bit left until you arrived at your destination, somehow everything went wrong one way or another. You almost missed the bus and then one of it's tire pooped, making you wait for the next one that came in like half an hour.

Then one of your water bottles wasn't closed properly making some of your stuff soaked in it, destroying your notes, drawings and a few comics you had with you in the process.

When you arrived in the small but cozy hotel a woman had a giant fight with the manager. One of her kids didn't stop bothering you with weird and uncomfortable questions about your appearance. While the other didn't keep their grabby hands off of you. Then when she finally finished her rant on how the room service didn't left a small piece of chocolate for her children like always, she had the audacity to give you a 'tch' when she walked passed you with a slightly disgusted expression. The manager and her assistant apologized for the inconvenience and offerd you some candy as a sorry gift for the inconvenience, you don't want to sound like a glutton, but it did make you forget about the whole thing for a bit.

Finally you managed to get your keys. On the way to your room you almost dropped all your stuff becoming a clumsy mess that just wants to sleep.

As you opend the door impatiently you more or less threw your stuff on the chairs and floor quickly unpacked your pajamas and hastily puting them on. Dropping your body on the softest bed you ever were able to sleep in like a rock. To say that you were happy to finally be here is taking things way to lighty. With a happy sigh you closed you eyes for the well deserving sleep.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU

Marcus Álvarez x Reader

Anon asked: Hi! Cloud I please request a Marcus Álvarez x Reader where they both used the hate each other and then go through a traumatic experience and are forced to work together to survive. Will there hate turn into friendship or something more?

WARNINGS: NSFW, VIOLENCE DESCRIBED

Word Count: 1.4k

Author comments: This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You have lost the count of how many hits your body has received. Feeling the metallic flavor of blood inside your mouth, and some of it drying all around your face, neck and chest, you're about to fall unconscious. You can hear like a distant echo Marcus calling you, trying to maintain you awake. The tears getting intermingle with the thick red liquid, your arms hanged from the rooftop, grabbed by two heavy chains tangled in your wrists. And your feet barely reach the ground, using your sleepy tiptoes because of the pain.

“Hey, niña, stay with me!”

“I ca—can't…” You cry pitching forward, and your eyelids playing you a dirty trick.

“You're doing it very well, you hear me…? Stay with me, (Y/N)”. He begs then like never before.

You try to nod, feeling how your neck is already affected too because of the affliction, trying to turn it to El Padrino. He is some meters away from you. Same position. Blood and saliva all around himself. You don't know how many time has passed since the black SUV threw you out of the road, before tie your hands and cover your heads to force you to lie down inside the truck.

“You're fucking strong, you hear me? And you have to stay awake, just a little more. Will you do it for me, ah?”

“I will…” You say almost in a whisper, swallowing and drawing a painful gesture because of the pain running through every inch of your face.

Let's be clear, after telling him once that you wouldn't ask him for help even if you were dying, now you know how much wrong you were. You wish he shoot you right now to finish with this suffering. Some broken ribs and also two fingers, several hits to your face, to your stomach, kicks to your back and some very slight cuts under your collarbone. You just want to die, that's a fact. If they thought you could give them a shit of the Mayans, it's because they don't know you. And using Marcus to do it faster is even more wrong. What kind of mercenary doesn't study his prey before catch them?

You have never had a good relationship with El Padrino. Not because your work as mechanic isn't good, totally the opposite. But because you're a woman, and you shouldn't be part of ‘men businesses’, referring to the counted occasions you have had to help Bishop with shipments to Nevada. You have a good aim, and you know how to ride a bike, what else do you need? Now, Marcus is seeing why his primo taught you everything you know today, since he kicked out your ass from streets to give you a better life. A job, a house and a family. You're not going to lose it for being a sneak.

“Where's the Galindo's warehouse?” A man with a spooky mask and a strong northern Cali accent grabs your throat with a hand.

You're not a pretty smart ass at this point of your agony, so the most intelligent thing you do is spit on his face, only making him feels angrier.

“I'm going to teach you a little education, bitch”.

When you want to realize, your body has fallen to the floor as a dead weight, after two men have released the roof hook. The one who was asking you tangles his right hand in your hair, dragging you in front of the other mexican. What's happens next is a loud falling into the hot flames of hell, between pleadings and bawls, while Marcus tries to free himself to help you.

“See? That's what he cares about you”. A man close to your face laughs, with your body engulfed in a shock where you finally feel nothing but tiredness, between kicks right to your abdomen, ribs and back. “Where's the warehouse, Álvarez?! Tell me or we will going to do it until she's dead!”

You want to tell him to not do it, to keep silence, but you can't even breathe well. How it's supposed you're going to talk? Your brain is so drained that the darkness is wrapping you between heat and ache, closing your eyes inevitably while your body continues shaking without wanting. But before you can faint, you hear somewhat similar to a shoot. Feeling warm drops splashing your face.

The mattress sinks slightly under your weight, rolling over it to the side you don't feel any pain. Your breathing is quite, relaxed and constant. Your lungs get flood by a strong masculine essence known to you. But you're too shocked yet, to connect the dots.

“I'm not… shit… Ma-Mayans”. You mutter with dry mouth, trying to swallow some saliva to lubricate it. “Fam—Family… My family…”

Five long fingers get tangled with yours, feeling soft kisses on your cheeks. You're crying again, sleepy, without strength to open your eyes. But you try to shake your body, free yourself from him.

“Kill me… I wi—will not… Mayans…” You utter somewhat loud, moving your free hand to the other body close to yours. “Family…”

“Rest, princesa”. Bishop's voice interrupts you with a smooth and carefully tone in it. “You're at home”.

The room is somewhat dark, but you can recognize it easily, as soon as your eyes finally can be opened. Without moving a single inch of your anatomy, you discover Marcus lying on the nearest sofa covered by different bandages and stitches in his bruised face. You're pretty sure that you must look like him, fucked up and destroyed physically. He notices you're awake by turning his head to you. The mexican doesn't say anything, feeling his body tensing because of the guilty, keeping the dark orbs above you. He's not even sure what he should do, hesitating for a second before sitting up and nailing his elbows on the lap covered by a pair of clean sweatpants. His hands on his head, with it falling down.

Not even your sarcasm could make you smile for a second, just wanting to know that the crew already killed those demons. The man stands up, walking with weak steps to the bed, lying by a side while you give him your back. In holy silence, Marcus wraps your body with his strong arms, pushing you closer into them. His head resting on the pillow, closing his eyes and feeling he can finally breathe relaxed. You sigh heavily, getting a little more comfortable under his grip being conscious that he's the only one allowed to touch you right now. The only one who understands your pain. And the only one who will can repair it somehow.

“I will protect you until the end of my life”. He whispers noticeably tired, sad and disappointed.

And what you couldn't expect is hearing him crying behind you, sinking his face between your skin and the pillow. Turning your body over the bed, you take him in your arms too, facing him for a second. You try to clean his tears with your bandaged fingers, while he melts into the guilt. It's not his fault. It's not Mayans'. And, obviously, it's not yours. You're not going to pretend that nothing happened, because this is something that happens every day, everywhere. In you reside the strength to face it, to fight against it. And it's something you're not going to forget, never, not even trying it with all your efforts. But you will not turn it into a weakness, but into a fortress. Marcus must do it too.

“I'll protect you too”.

You say then, caressing the back of his head slowly, closing your eyes again. You want to fall asleep, and you know you're only going to do it being close to him. The man holds you tightly, pressing his lips on your forehead in a dearly kiss, touching after that your skin with the tip of his nose.

“I am sure about this, niña”.