#and agonise over anatomy

[velvetwyrme]

its a travesty i cant draw and write at the same time

i have the desire to do both so i guess it'll end up a question of which one im more motivated to do...

[centricider]

my fave himbo.... i was so sad when he died

full things. idk

[fidgetspringer]

Turns out there's an artblock cheat code in my brain and it's that apparently traditional art doesn't count.

[weaponizedducks]

watching greys anatomy as a house md enjoyer is so funny because you've got the greys team agonising over whether to lie to a patient or smthn and then over on house's team they're breaking into houses every day, they're commiting medical malpractice like it's breathing. chase kills a dictator and he's like 'bro help me cover this up' and foreman does it no questions. they just don't care. hatecrimes md crew tops gays anatomy or whatever all day every day

[konigsblog]

hi!! i love ur stuff so so much but would you be able to do something for m reader or transmale reader?? i dont mind which characters (but soap or gaz would be nice) but i know you more sort of specialize in könig, so characters doesn't really matter.

but like, m reader or transmale reader with cnc please 🫶

again love your stuff and completely understandable if you cant :)

Creep!Gaz and Creep!Soap thots™

Soap x Gax x Male!Reader

TW: NON-CON/RAPE, STALKING, MALE ANATOMY. MDNI 18+

Thank you for your request, my lovely :3 I have been receiving a couple requests for Transmale!Reader, so I think now is a good time to remind you guys that I don't write for Transgender!Readers !

It was Johnny's idea. The pair had been stalking you nonstop for months now, learning your routine so they could constantly watch you from afar. They'd watch you shower after a mission in the communal showers, scrubbing off all the dirt and grime that layered your soft skin. You were their newest recruit, and their newest obsession.

You thought you could trust the two men. After all, they were your trustworthy teammates, what reason did you have to fear the pair? After a night out drinking after a successful mission, you felt yourself growing more and more dizzy, with your head throbbing and your vision becoming blurry. The two had offered to walk you back to the base, a kind gesture in your eyes. Although, they were simply looking for some private time with you, away from the watchful eyes of their Captain.

Instead of being left in your barracks to deal with your headache in peace, the men decided to have a little bit of fun with you. You could feel Gaz's hand wander over your crotch repeatedly, rubbing your clothed cock ‘til you were hissing out drunkenly at the ache between your legs. You could hear the sound of their pants unzipping as you shifted between unconsciousness and consciousness. All you remember was the splitting and agonising sensation of Johnny forcing his sweaty, meaty cock inside and the rough, familiar Scottish accent in your ear.

You couldn't control your tears as you wept and cried pathetically beneath the experienced, older men, who had years of experience in the military beneath their belt and fuckton of control and authority over rookies like yourself.

“Quit cryin’, lad. Man up, aye? Don’t be such a fuckin’ coward...” The Scotsman let out, his voice hoarse and frustrated at your constant squirming.

You felt Johnny's scarred, rough hands wander your body, his blunt fingernails digging into your hips as he forced your rear skyward and your face into your pillow. Gaz's fingers nestled in your hair and tilted your head towards him while Soap ploughed relentlessly into your tight asshole, with one hand on the small of your back and the other jerking your leaking cock off, taunting you for enjoying such vile treatment. You could feel Soap's cockhead smack and prod against your insides, silencing your pained and horrified pleas.

Your vision was blurry and your bones felt weak. Kyle wasn't gentle in the slightest, as he pushed his swollen, bulbous dick into your mouth, fucking your tight throat ruthlessly. Your lips became puffy around Kyle's lengthy girth, with tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably.

“Don’t think you’re fit for the military if you can’t handle a little roughenin’ up, no?” Gaz chucked teasingly, cocking his head at you while both men violated your weak body for their own amusement, arousal, and entertainment.

Who would believe you, anyways? A silly recruit like you... You were drunk, who would care for you? You're just attempting to tear down the reputation they've built for themselves, aren't you?

[karvviie]

ok ok another question sorry. how do you always draw Faces so detailed yet pretty? (esp in different angles). Like what do you think about whenever you draw a face/portrait (sorry i just like looking into the brains of artists)

bro i loooove drawing faces i think everyone is so interesting to look at and i want to capture that in my art.

when i draw a character i try to do it almost as if they’re a real person with distinct features that i’m trying to capture the likeness of. so i can sometimes really agonise over whether characters look like how i envision them in my brain.

i also care a lot about the accuracy of anatomy and facial proportions so using photography of real people’s faces as references helps!

oh and i love to draw expressions. idk i just think it’s awesome to be able to express emotions through art. and to be able to tell what someone’s feeling through their face.

ya so basically im very into drawing faces and emotions

[outlanderalien]

Make love through war.

Part 1

Kurotsuchi Mayuri / Kenpachi Zaraki, Kenmayu, Zayuri

Short ficlet, might follow up with a pt2 later down the line...

The unconventional start of a relationship between two ultra violent monsters and their insatiable bloodlust.

CW: Violence, S&M

[AO3 LINK]

_____

"S-..Subarashii..." Mayuri gasped as blood flooded his lungs "Your strength.. truly is a marvel to behold.."

Zaraki didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the golden eyes of the man he'd just impaled.

"At a loss for words?" Mayuri smiled "You should be..." He choked back blood "The dose I administered earlier should have incapacitated you entirely..."

He relaxed slightly, letting the weight of his body hang on the sword embedded in him, causing him to let out a shaky gasp that excited Zaraki.

"But, my, my..." Mayuri hummed as he stretched his hand out, placing it on Zaraki's with a half-lidded glance. "Beast that you are..." He pulled the blade deeper into himself "You simply brute forced your way through it..."

Their faces now inches apart, Zaraki's expression was stoney and intense, unmoving as though possessed. Mayuri leaned in closer, examining every detail through half closed eyes, he could feel the brutes hot breath on him.

"Ah, paralysed at last are you.. ?" He almost sounded disappointed "You must be in exquisite agony... But I suppose even a savage like you must have your limits-- Gh-!!"

The blade twisted unexpectedly inside him, rendering him speechless.

"You talk too much." That deep growl made Kurotsuchi shiver.

Zaraki unsheathed the sword from Mayuris anatomy, letting him crumble to the floor. They were both breathing hot and heavy, battered and bloody.

This fighting had been a recurring event ever since their very first battle. Something happened during that time that neither could've anticipated. No matter how much Zaraki mutilated Mayuri, he could never truly kill him, he'd just slink away and regenerate. And no matter how many poisons Mayuri tested on Zaraki, he always found a way to confound Kurotsuchi and his scientific method.

For each it was as though they had found a new toy, one that could never bore them, and one they could never truly break.

As time passed, something in the air changed between them. In the midst of all the stabbing, biting, clawing, mauling, poisoning, mutilating... there was intimacy. It was fierce and erotic, bloody and lustful, agonising and orgasmic.

"Are you gonna regenerate or what." Zaraki grunted.

"My word, you are insatiable." The scientist lay broken on the hard ground, smiling weakly. "I haven't the time to keep playing with you, besides it's going to take a while for me to regenerate after all that." He tutted "Honestly, the pain you've put me through..."

"You feel pain?" Zaraki had always figured that he'd have had those inefficient nerves removed.

"Excruciating~" Mayuri beamed sickly. Many questions Zaraki had were answered with that one reply.

With a sigh, Kenpachi turned to make his leave.

"Oh? Leaving already..?"

"The fight's done."

"and don't you want the spoils of war?"

Kenpachi halted, he knew exactly what he meant, though he wouldn't turn to face him again.

"Such a pain..." Mayuri continued in a playful tone "I'm entirely helpless in this state... One could truly take advantage of me like this~"

"Get a hold of yourself." Zaraki snarled "I don't fuck corpses."

"Ah, just like a savage then. You prefer them kicking and screaming~"

Zaraki didn't dignify that.

Wordlessly he continued his exit, bloodlust still running high, and nowhere to put that energy, nowhere he was prepared to yet anyway.

"Another time, perhaps" Mayuri teased.

Alone, Mayuri lay in his own pooling blood, irritation began to wash over his lust like a bucket of cold water. "Honestly..." He muttered to himself "I have much work to do on those poisons... Truly laughable results..."

He too now had a lot of energy that will go to waste, and coming down from that high left his ego in tatters.

"Ungrateful savage. I don't offer myself to just anyone..." He suddenly felt the crushing embarrassment of rejection all at once, which quickly turned into burning anger.

"I will have to make a very special concoction for that brute..." He began plotting sadistic poisons and traps for their next battle, giddy at the thought of bringing Zaraki to his knees...

...

"That bastard." Zaraki muttered to himself as he returned to the barracks. "Mocking me like that. Sick freak." His mind was still on the visage of Mayuri draped on his sword, moaning indulgently.

He had to stop his mind wandering further. The things he held himself back from doing during that fight... And despite his restraint Mayuri had to go and tease him like that at the end.

"Tch..."

Next time I'll give him what he wants. His mind was still stuck on all the ways he wanted to break Mayuri, and all those shrill whines and moans he makes... I'll give him what he wants alright...

[inkksuna]

hi i just wanted to let you know (despite only finding you literally a few minutes ago, after also only just finding out you can add custom brushes to krita-) how much youre appreciated for putting all of that work into it and that despite what some people might whine about (whoever was whining at the option to pay) and just,, youre great, and i really do hope that you get more support and tips!!! and that your art is lovely too <33 have a nice day!

I really appreciate this a lot, actually. Thank you. I recently had to take down a brushpack from Krita forums because of people either being inappropriate or complaining a brush wasn't fixed yet (i'm still learning). It was a brush pack to help people draw liquids quickly so naturally you can imagine the comments it got. It'll come back in time but it needs some fixing I think. I always want my brushpacks available, and even the most recent one with the flower set is only going to be monetised for a few months to fund the next one (i'm thinking city buildings or maybe comic bubles & effects) and then pay-what-you-want like the others.

Above all else, I want to help artists save time and have things feel more accessible. My whole goal is to help artists who don't have the mental strength to draw to achieve usual standard of artwork without agonising over things. For a year I was struggling with drawing because the act of drawing anatomy from scratch was too much at the time. I started using the magic poser app and things got so much more accessible for me that I could create again.

I'm hoping that my brushes can help people feel that too.

[tigerator]

also. the starry night isn't about looking the way it does. it's not, purely, an image whose entire content is contained within the way it looks. it didn't present itself fully formed into his mind, he didn't make it in order to create an image that looked like that, the image sparked its own existence as a result of the joy of the process of putting the paint down. because he felt something, because he thought something, because he dreamed about something. the content of the starry night is not held in the paint nor is it held in the canvas, it's held in vincent van gogh's mind, and expressed through his brush, and only through looking so carefully at every choice he made while making it can you decipher what he meant when he said that.

ai image generation is about taking words and making them into a picture. but the starry night is about taking feelings and dreams and fears and making them into a picture. extremely real things that transcend language, that are translated into a physical form that only the artist can truly comprehend and the rest of us can only dream of understanding. looking upon it triggers our own feelings, and dreams, and fears.

it's about spending hours and hours investing into something that you might hate because there's something inside you that's going to explode if you don't get it out. and at the end of the process you have a painting, or a sculpture, or a photograph, or a poem, or a novel, or something else. and at the end of that experience, of you toiling away, honing this skill of transforming your thoughts and your feelings, each one as ephemeral as they are incommunicable, you have something that you can put in front of something else to make them suffer the way you have.

if you look at the starry night and all you see is a picture, then it's no wonder why you think there's a specific string of words that will make an ai create the same thing. you gaze upon his works and despair, not because you understand what drove vincent van gogh to feel the compulsion to agonise over creating the work, but because all you see is a picture. you don't hear the paint, you don't see his dreams, and you can't fathom why anyone cares about it more than the works you've made.

you go onto the ai image generator and you type in "woman naked sitting in forest big breasts good hands correct hands correct fingers correct number of fingers good anatomy" because you think it will look nice. because you think it will be liked. because you think it will be popular on twitter. van gogh turns to his canvas with the weight of the world pulverising his heart until it threatens to explode, and makes himself work through every shitty feeling until he's left with a painting that reflects his deepest dream: to be happy. and in doing so, his world gets brighter. and in doing so, he makes our world brighter, too.

vincent van gogh spoke with paint. you speak with words. and you're mad at everyone else because we don't applaud your mediocrity. and you express this anger the only way you know how.

with those stupid ass words of yours.

you wanna start making art with words? google 'how to write a poem'.

[wolverineheight]

oh folks im back on my rarepair bullshit doodling

[sanctus-ingenium]

So you are one of my main art inspos, so I was wondering if you could provide tips on some of the "AHA!" moments you had in your journey. Sort if like things that one you knew them, your art suddenly got a lil better.

oh wow uh

it's hard to pin down specific moments but i'll do my best

vet school, forensic anthropology & human anatomy for radiographers courses (last two were electives) - this is the best way to learn anatomy. seeing how bodies are put together, especially the bodies of animals in my case, was a string of aha moments. i drew a lot of human bones and organs from life.

drawing other stuff from life as well - i learned about shading metals from a school project when i was 15. that stuff sticks with you if you try it often enough and you have a grade relying on it lmao

abandoning layer modes in most cases. i've never liked filters or layer modes and i used to think that a multiply or overlay layer was the easiest way to shade and my god no it is not. when i shade it's by direct painting and it feels so much more intuitive to me, and also i learned more about how to pick colours manually to go well together from the start. but what works for me might not work for you

abandoning my attachment to Having An Art Style. seriously guys so many people waste time trying to bring all their work in line and making it all look the same or agonising over Their Style... you don't have to do that. if you feel like drawing something completely different one day than the next then do it. you will have more fun. personally i love experimenting with how many different ways i can draw the same subject and making things that don't look like what i drew yesterday. broadens my horizons.

i've realised that if i kept going a lot of these would be just "when i stopped giving a fuck" and honestly yeah. it works and it's my #1 tip for helping me relax and have fun while drawing. you don't even have to improve at art (i'm assuming you want that since you're asking, but for everyone else - yes it is totally fine to not learn anything new if you're happy with what you have. who cares if you never learn how to draw something people think is mandatory.)

kind of related to "stop giving a shit about style", one of my great joys for a few years now has been in trying to faithfully reproduce specific shit i like with the tools i have - for example, trailcam photos, lino prints, pencil sketches, vintage comics, stuff like that. even if my motivation was just "i want to draw my werewolf character saying hi to a trailcam" and i was more or less tracing from a real trailcam photo at first, i was still learning. i learned about lighting, foliage, how to set a scene, stuff like that. it kills art block too

i saw someone say "cool shadows = warm highlights/warm shadows = cool highlights" once and it's been a core part of my personality ever since

[burning-sol]

washed up hero of the undersea

(im trying not to agonise over the anatomy and everything because this is a sketch posting this before i feel any more pain looking away not looking at it)

[rememberences]

♟

the agonising, muffled scream that was echoed into the piece of cloth that had been given to the knight of ninestars to bite into seemed to reverberate so high atop the world, where the gods themselves had direct access to hearing the pain they subjected their devoted children to. it sounded something similar to the sound of a wounded animal, and it were only a human reaction to such a feeling he could imagine; never before had graham royce suffered with a melted breastplate to his own skin, though he had seen it time and time again during the dance of dragons. one of the most painful procedures to take place upon the battlefield, on difficult terrain, where even a maester cannot be present - they did not even have a maester with them, considering their geographic location.

instead they had the draughts, and the pain relief, which would have little effect unless it sent the knight of ninestars into a sleep that made him appear almost dead.

he had done this before, with the blood of his men running onto his hands as dark grey orbs looked upon the parts of flesh no human was supposed to see. how perfectly put together they appeared on the outside, whilst their anatomy inside…he were counting in his head as was given his dagger that had been put on the fire. it was scalding, and he did not intend to scald the man; so he counted. it would sear him either way. then the slicing began, percival templeton's body moving suddenly in reaction to the pain that engulfed him. it burned hot, rather than ebbed and flowed; sudden, all too sudden all too quickly. his hand moved quickly, as quickly as he could; for he remained wide awake. until the final piece of the breastplate was slipped from the flesh, with a sound that would be enough to make one retch.

as he moved aside, his hand seeping with the blood of the lord commander who was his own brother's first cousin via his mother's side, he watched as the men immediately moved to wrap the open wound in fresh bandage. clean, and never used before; transported specifically in a chest kept within graham's tent specifically. the best way to kill a man was to wrap him in bandage that had been tainted, whether it be by the miasmas or something else they did not understand. "the wound will remain raw for months. it need consistent changing, and cleaning - ensuring any equipment is put on the flames no more than an hour before." he directed to the knights of the vale, whilst they prepared to move percival templeton's unconscious body to his tent.

such was the brotherhood of the knights of the vale. such was the way they banded together, whether they upon the soil of the first men or atop the mountains of the moon belonging to the andals. hours passed, and it had long since gone daybreak when there was news of stirrings within the tent of the knight of ninestars. he would remain wounded, in need of pain relief, in need of draught after draught for these next few days. but there was information they needed to obtain, and graham needed the man's head to be as clear as possible. his figure pushed open the tent after coming off watch, whilst his brother waited outside. they knew what could do something like this. they needed it confirmed.

the king consort of the vale folded his hands over his torso as he looked, feeling the cold biting him to the bone. how freezing it was up here. still, he allowed the flap to close behind him, walking toward the dimly lit beside. it were stuffy in here, the smell that came with one being forced to remain inside for hours. he could waste time asking the man how he feels. it were obvious to see how he felt, it were written all across his face. "do you remember?" graham asked, his accent wrapping around each syllable. he prayed the man would remember. not for confirmation, but for the notion of ideas.

Percival's breathing was labored. It hurt to do even that, to just breathe. He shook like a damn leaf in the wind, the pain doing its twisted work on his body. A part of his mind whispered he'd survived the worst already, that he'd managed to ride back to safety too. But the ache on the side of his torso reminded him sharply that he could still perish. Losing blood when the molten chainmail and armor were ripped from his skin. An infection taking root. He was nowhere near being a survivor just yet.

The king consort of the Vale and his men gathered around the Knight of Ninestaris swiftly, readying to deal with the consequence of having had a single man return in such a deplorable state. Whatever was said or done until he was put into one of the tents, Percival didn't know. His ability to pay attention to anything other than the agony was lessening by the second. He wasn't alone now, which in some way offered the leeway of beginning to let go a little. He'd held on for dear life as he rode back, having no one else to rely on. Here his brothers in arms, trusted Valemen, had him. And he let his life —what remained of him— to be put in their hands.

The knight felt cold sweat on his forehead. He felt the involuntary tremors of his pain still gripping him whole. His eyes, a hue akin to the sky blue only witnessed from the highest peaks of the Vale, found the severe gaze of his king. Graham Royce knew what was to come, and so did Percival. They would tear and cut through him with none of the grace of a delicate maester's knife. “Do it,” the Knight of Ninestars replied with a wince, steadying himself as much as he could. “Bloody do it already,” he glanced at the men around him. His words weren't harsh, only resolute, only grateful. My life is in your hands, and your hands only, was an unspoken thought that passed through his mind as he bit on the piece of cloth the King consort gave him. No gods held him, only the good men of the Vale. Only his brotherhood. It was them who would dictate if he lived or died, and that thought brought him a sense of relief rather than any form of dread.

The Templeton knight bit down hard on the cloth, jaw locking in place. He looked at Graham and nodded. The steady hands of the other men held him in place, pressing against his shoulders and arms, holding down his legs. He could feel his heartbeat ring loudly in his ears, expectant, dreading what was to come, but ready for it. Another heartbeat, and he felt the way the ruined metal was pulled. His flesh screamed. His body reacted viscerally, tensing up, trying to move in any way that might help him escape the pain, so his brothers held him in place. His agonized cry was muffled. He felt every fiber of the live tissue separating from the molten armor against his burned skin, like tendrils slowly separating, a forced and brutal separation. The pain blinded him. And he passed out.

[ironmanfridgemagnet]

Sitting On The Shelf - Marcus White x Reader

Part 11 - Labour

SOTS Masterlist

Cheyenne's screams filled the store, a group of you almost instantly surrounding her at the shrill sound. A hand placed gently on the small of Cheyenne's back, you rubbed soothing circles into it, trying anything you possibly could to help lessen the pain she was so obviously in.

"Guys?" Mateo shouted, standing next to Jonah, both looking deeply concerned and yet still doing nothing.

"Okay. Time to go to the hospital?" Amy asked, suddenly appearing right beside you, pushing a piece of Cheyenne's hair that had fallen forward back behind her ear and out of her eyes.

"I don't think I'm gonna make it to the hospital." Cheyenne shouted, one hand holding her stomach and the other now tightly squeezing your own. "I think I'm having this baby here."

"Okay. We need towels. Someone run to the store and buy some towels! No, wait! We're a store! Get some towels!" Glenn shouted, Mateo quickly running off to grab some at his request.

"You're not gonna have the baby in the store." Amy said, repeatedly pushing Cheyenne's hair out of her eyes each time it fell forward. 

"Yeah, you have plenty of time, Chey." You affirmed, still rubbing her back gently as she hunched over inside of the checkout.

"And it could be false labour." Jonah finally spoke up, boasting his random knowledge in an attempt to impress you all.  "You know? That's called a Braxton Hicks contraction."

"This baby is not gonna be born in Cloud 9." Amy asserted, shooting a threatening glare to Jonah as she spoke, as if his words were going to jinx it.

"Maybe it's Braxton Hicks." Jonah suggested once again, though this time meeker and directing his words towards you, hoping to not piss off Amy any more then he had already seemed to.

"I know J." You whispered to him, feeling bad that Amy had sent him such a stern glare, but knowing Amy was just stressed by the fact Cheyenne could literally be birthing her child right now.

"Okay, we get it. You know the term Braxton Hicks. We're all very impressed." Amy snapped at Jonah, her focus still on Cheyenne as she screamed once more in pain.

"No, I'm having this baby here." Cheyenne barely got the words out as she let out another cry, hunching over in what sounded like agonising pain.

"Okay, this is it! This is happening!" Glenn shouted, throwing his arms in the air in excitement at the Idea of a Cloud 9 baby.

"I feel nothing." Dina deadpanned, ignoring her words, you and Amy hoisted Cheyenne up, leading her over to the patch of artificial grass by the patio display. 

Laying Cheyenne down, you covered the lower half of her body in a large towel, helping Cheyenne to slip out of her shoes and pants as Amy propped both her feet and head up with crates of beer. Shuffling to her side, you let one hand hold her ankle while the other stroked her head absentmindedly.

"Attention, shoppers. Is there a doctor in the Who am I kidding?" Garret asked over the intercom, frantically trying to do his part to help Cheyenne's birth be as easy as possible "This is Cloud 9. Anybody here watched a lot of "Grey's Anatomy?" Maybe "Nurse Jackie"? Not "The Knick.""

Looking towards Cheyenne, you asked her to mimic your breathing: taking in two short and shallow breaths before blowing out a long one. As you tried to coach her breathing through her contractions, Amy looked between the two of you admirably - surprised at how well the both of you were handling the situation, especially Cheyenne.

"Where'd you learn that?" Amy asked, rubbing Cheyenne's arm soothing as she braved through her contractions.

"I don't know. I watch a lot of 'Scrubs'?" You offered, returning to helping Cheyenne breath though she quickly let out another cry, breaking the breathing pattern.

"Move! Pharmacist coming through." Tate announced, pushing his way through the crowd that had formed around Cheyenne and pulling a pair of blue rubber gloves . "Step aside. I need room."

"All right, Cheyenne. I need you to listen to me here, and we will get through this. Now, in the last 24 hours, have you taken any medication I need to know about?" Tate quizzed Cheyenne, your eyes widening as he seemed to actually be trying to help her. You didn't know he was birth trained.

"Just some Tums." Cheyenne admitted, you and Amy still soothing her as she pushed through her contractions.

"Calcium carbonate. That's fine. It's not gonna harm the baby. All right." Tate announced as he stood from the chair he had sat in facing Cheyenne, and pulled off his rubber gloves.

"Oh, yeah. That's it?" Amy asked incredulously, unfortunately not surprised by Tate's inability to help, or want to actually try.

"Well, yeah. I'm a pharmacist. I don't know how to deliver a baby. Gross. But, um, good luck. My training kicked in. You're welcome, everyone." Tate relished in the applause he received from the customers surrounding the group of you before slowly walking away.

As he left, he turned around, walking carelessly backwards and making a phone shape with his hand, shaking it side to side. Mouthing to 'call me', a shiver ran down your spine, however the creepy tension soon dissolved as Tate walked into an end-cap, swinging around and pushing it as though it had attacked him. 

"If the contractions are longer, that means you're in it's called active labour, so I guess you're in active labour." Jonah announced, you and Amy rolling your eyes at his obvious statement. 

"I'm gonna go get some stuff." Jonah said before running off into the depths of the store, hoping to find things that would help but God knows what he'd bring back.

"Okay, look. I took part in a cow birth once. The calf died, but I learned what not to do." Dina offered, a distant look covering her face as she dwelled back on the moment she had just mentioned - knowing Dina and her affinity for animals, it was probably something she still wasn't over.

"Cheyenne, I want you to wait until you have an uncontrollable urge to push, okay?" Glenn asked, rolling his sleeves up as he kneeled down in front of Cheyenne, gently lifting the sheet covering her and pushing it up to her calves. "And then, you're gonna bear down with all your strength for ten seconds at a time, okay?"

"I can't believe you know how to handle this." Amy asked, looking at Glenn curiously as he readied himself to help birth Cheyenne's baby.

"Well, I played the abortion doctor in a Hell house once." Glenn admitted, his confidence not once faltering as he began to advice Cheyenne through her labour, despite the surprised looks that had washed over you and Amy's faces.

"Garrett, you're filming this?" Amy asked in disgust as she realised the man was filming Cheyenne's birth with the white, store brand, camcorder - concerned as to why he would think about doing so and where the footage would go.

"Yeah, for Bo. I figured he'd want to see it." Surprised by Garret's thoughtfulness, you let out a low hum, covering it up with a squeal of pain as Cheyenne squeezed your hand tighter then she previously had been doing.

"This is it! The baby's coming!" Glenn shouted, his hands coming to rest between Cheyenne's legs as he instructed her to give a final, big push, her grip on your hand becoming more bone-crushing with each second that passed. "Yeah, this is it, guys. It's coming. This is the moment."

Silence fell upon the store: Cheyenne's shrill screams gone and the crying of a baby no where to be heard.

"Oh, um The contractions stopped." Cheyenne admitted, her grip on your hand loosening enough for you to slip it from her grasp and rub it gently, soothing out the red heat that had come to point that had been squeezed too hard by the young girl just moments prior.

"Oh. That's, um huh. Braxton Hicks, I guess. It's false labour." Jonah cited his article once more, a packet of cotton balls falling from the top of his pile of random things he though may help as he pushed his phone into his back pocket - his grip suddenly tightening around them as to not let anything more fall to the ground. Standing up, you walked across to him, taking the top few items off of him and placing them into your own grasp, a grateful smile covering the young mans face.

"I guess it should put on my pants now."

———————————————————————-

Having had the content of Amy and Jonah's phone call with corporate being described in great detail to you by both parties involved, you knew the "U-word" had been dropped and knew that would call for some kind of corporate intervention. However, you hadn't realised that it would come so soon after the call; hoping you could find out when it would be and book the day off in advance.

Considering you hadn't been on the call, or mentioned intent to unionise, you didn't think you deserved to suffer through coming to the store hours before opening, to sit through an extremely boring lecture and then work the whole day. It just didn't seem fair.

However, you knew that that that was protocol and as much as you hated it, it was what you had to do.

"Morning, everyone. Grab some coffee. Help yourself to a doughnut hole." The corporate man announced, introducing himself to the group of you that had been forced to gather in the store at the crack of dawn.

"You see what's going on here, right?" Glenn asked, a grimace covering his face as the union buster welcomed people to sit down in front of him. "Corporate smells trouble, so they send in a shark. "

"A big, swinging wiener. Have him swing his wiener around a little. Give us a slap on the wrist. A little rap on the knuckles from a big, swinging wiener." Laughing to yourself, you hid the immature smile that had formed on your face behind the styrofoam cup of free coffee that corporate had provided. While it didn't compare to your usual morning cup of joe, it being far too watery and with nowhere near enough creamer in it, it was free, leading you to take occasional sips of the water-like substance. 

"This is gonna be a long day." Amy let out a huff of air, you and Jonah agreeing before splitting away from her to find some free seats, most being filled by people patiently waiting for the union talk.

Looking across the store floor that was now littered with chairs, you made eye contact with Marcus, noticing there was a free chair next to him. Moving to sit with him, you hoped you'd finally be able to talk since he'd gone out on a date with Dina - neither of you having spoke, or messaged, the other since - much to your disappointment. However, as Marcus had noticed you walking towards him, he quickly ushered a tall man in a warehouse jumpsuit over, avoiding your eyes as he asked the guy to sit with him. 

Had you done something wrong? 

A flash of hurt crossed your face, though you rolled your shoulders back, wanting to push the feeling of upset off of you and get on with your day - with, or without, speaking to Marcus. Noticing a free seat remained next to Jonah, you made your way next to him, slumping into your seat and resting your head lazily against his shoulder.

"Long morning?" Jonah asked, his arm moving out from between the two of you and across the back of your chair, turning his head slightly to face you, though his eyes remained firmly on the man in front of you all. 

"Long life." You whined, throwing your head back in exasperation though quickly sitting back up as Jonah let out a short breathy laugh. Elbowing him gently in the side, you straightened yourself up, taking another sip of the warm liquid while you looked on expectantly at the well-dressed man in front of you.

"Hello, 1217. My name is Steve." The man finally announced, his voice filled with almost too much enthusiasm. "Does anyone here know who I am?"

"I know. A union buster." Mateo offered as an answer, his words expressing what you all were surely thinking. 

"Good one. I'm gonna remember that one. Funny." The guy, Steve, chocked out, his words strained and seemingly offended. "No, I am a labour  relations consultant." Turning at the scratching of pen on paper you quirked your eyebrow at Mateo who was writing down what Steve was saying. 

"Cloud 9 isn't anti-union. Unions are great for people whose companies don't listen to them. But whatever your concerns are, you can always bring them right to corporate any time." Steve assured, his hands gesturing between himself and the crowd before him, hoping to show that you were one and the same; working for the same cause.

"Oh, great. Some of us did have some concerns that I wanted to ask you about." Jonah suddenly perked up, happy to have the opportunity to spout some of his thoughts on Cloud 9's policies and ways.

"And I want to hear about them." Steve began, Jonah readying to speak though he was quickly cut off as Steve enthusiastically continued his speech. "But first, we're gonna have some fun. Yeah? Has everyone gotten some coffee and a doughnut hole?"

You stood from beside Jonah, sympathetically squeezing his shoulder as his words fell short before he got the chance to speak. Walking over to the spread of coffee and donut holes, you refilled your cup, peeling back the lid of one of the small milk cartons and pouring it into the drink. It would suffice for now. Taking a sip of the unusually bitter drink, you grabbed a handful of donut holes, walking swiftly back to your spot next to Jonah.

As the few of you who had gone over to the table began to settle down again, you gave half of your stash of donut holes to Jonah, wiping your slightly sticky hand on your jeans after you popped one into your mouth.

"What happened to a doughnut hole?" Jonah asked, his eyebrow quirking at you as you had clearly ignored Steve's request, though he still took them, graciously biting into one of the sugar-smothered bites of dough.

"Guy's a class-a asshole, besides, this isn't my first rodeo. They're going to offer more out the second tensions start to rise - best to get them while they're still fresh." You popped another donut hole into your mouth, swallowing it down with a mouthful of coffee, you decided you were going to have to escape to the breakroom and make yourself something proper when you had the chance.

———————————————————————— "Now we're going to do a little role-playing exercise, and I've roped in your manager, Glenn, here to help me out." Steve shared, you letting out a whoop of encouragement as Glenn walked up to the front of the crowd as grabbed Steve's shoulder tightly in his grasp.  "Um, okay. Thank you. You're gonna play a union organizer, and you're gonna try to get me to sign this union card. Okay?"

"Sure. OK. Hi, hello. My name's Steve, and the union..." Glenn began, his words coming out wobbly and unsure, though he was quickly cut off by Steve who laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Okay. You know what? You're doing great. But my name is Steve, so that might be a little confusing for everyone. So maybe pick another name." Steve clapped Glenn on the back, his tone filled with faux encouragement and way too much excitement.

"How much are they paying this guy?" You muttered under your breath, sinking down in to your seat a bit more, trying to get comfy beside the obstacle of the cheap plastic chair.

"Okay, sure. Sorry. I'm just a little nervous." Glenn admitted, his face flushing a deep shade of red as he had been stopped by someone from corporate in front of his staff - though you knew no one cared about the impression you left on corporate as much as Glenn did.

"You're doing great." Steve encouraged, taking a step back from Glenn as he prepared to start the little scene again. "All right." 

"Um, hi. My name's Steve." Glenn repeated once again, his face turning even redder - if that was possible - then before as he paused as took a step backwards, shying away from the crowd who were staring intently at him. "All right."

"I'm gonna be the Steve in this scene, right?" Steve motioned to himself, stepping back from Glenn slightly who seemed to be trying to amp himself up to play his part. "So..." Steve prompted, allowing Glenn to open the scene once more.

"All right, all right. You're Steve." Glenn asserted, pointing at the man across from him and holding the white piece of card tightly in his grasp.

"Sorry, misunderstanding." Glenn apologised, a nervous laugh bubbling out of his through as he looked anxiously between Steve and his employees.

"You're doing great." Steve reassured once more, his stoic wide smile finally beginning to crack as Glenn had once again failed at the simple task of using another name, any name, but Steve.

"Okay. All right. Hello there, Steve. My name's..." Silence fell across the store as everyone stared at Glenn in wait, hoping that he'd finally come out with something new after having thought deeply on the subject for a tense few moments. "Steve."

"Literally, you know what? Any other name in the entire universe." Steve almost snapped, his smiley façade dropping slightly as he brushed Glenn's attempts off and gave him a knowing look: a final chance to say anything other then Steve.

"Steve." Glenn stuttered out, just above a whisper, Steve quickly taking the opportunity to usher him back to his chair and invite someone else up to speak.

"Okay, you know what? Let's give Glenn a round of applause. You did great. No worries." At Steve's request, you let out the most obnoxious applause you could muster, aiming to clap as hard and loud as you could in hopes of breaking the overjoyed union buster. However, instead you were greeted with a very wide smile from Glenn and a mouthed 'thank you.'

"All right. Maybe a different volunteer. How about you with the purple polo? Thank you for that, Dina. Dina's gonna be our union organizer, and she's gonna try to get me to sign this union card. Let's see if Dina is up for the challenge." Steve proclaimed, ushering Dina out of her seat and next to him, passing her a new piece of white card.

"Okay." Dina let out a short breath, looking down briefly before looking back up, a smile now settling on her face as she mustered up her best 'customer service' voice. "Hey, how'd you like to join a union?"

"No, thanks. I don't need to. Cloud 9 already listens to my concerns." Steve responded, looking out to the crowd as if to make sure you were watching his actions and making note of them - Mateo certainly was, his pen still scratching hurriedly onto the little red notepad he held in his grasp.

"I really think it'd be in your best interests to sign this card." Dina reiterated, taking an almost threatening step towards Steve who held her back with a simple raising of his hand.

"Please don't bully me. I do not need to pay someone to speak for me." Steve spoke calmly, lowering the card that Dina had been holding out of his sights, and turning out to face the group of you. "See? I shut her down. Those are two examples."

"Stop interrupting me. You will sign this card or I will choke the life out of you." Dina fumed, taking another threatening step towards the man who's resolve was slowly breaking at just how strange the employees of store 1217 were.

"Whoa. Wow. And the Oscar goes to Dina. Right?" Steve asked, moving himself away from Dina as she continued to loom over him. "See, she was playing a character there that was a little..."

"Oh, I'm not playing a character." Din admitted, her expression becoming tense and cold as she spoke. "This is me, Dina, talking to you, union buster Steve. I'm in a dark place right now, and quite frankly, I have nothing left to lose. So you will sign this fucking card, or I will be waiting for you in the parking lot at the end of the night, where I will wrap my hands around that tiny chicken neck of yours and stare deep into your eyes while I watch the lights go out."

"Let's take a break." Steve trembled out, his voice cracking slightly as he fully backed away from Dina in hopes of escaping her evil clutches.

"Nice one De." You whispered as she walked past you, a small smirk making its way onto her face as she sat back in her chair, clearly impressed with her performance. Leaning backwards slightly, your raised your hand in a fist to float just above your shoulder, Dina giving you a fist bump in return.

———————————————————————-

"Now you have the facts. How you choose to use them is up to you. Thank you." Steve concluded, his lecture on why unions were the worst thing to ever exist finally over. While you didn't exactly agree with all the anti-union propaganda he was spouting, you felt as though there was no point in trying to bring anything up with the guy - you wouldn't change his mind and you definitely wouldn't change corporates.

"Oh, thank you, God." Amy groaned, her knees cracking as she stood from the very uncomfortable plastic chair that had been forced into for the past few hours.

"I know, right?" Jonah agreed, cracking his knuckles as he bit his lip anxiously. "Excuse me, sorry. Sorry, guys, but you had said earlier that maybe we could voice some concerns at the end of the meeting?"

"Thank you, Jonah." Amy whined, slumping back down into her seat as Jonah had decided to speak up after it was all over- of course he would- but you couldn't blame him, you'd do the same for something you were passionate about, and for Jonah that just happened to be solving injustice.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Jonah apologised, his hand frantically gesturing as though to emphasise how genuine his words were.

"Absolutely. Cloud 9 has an open door policy." Steve responded, a tight smile gracing his lips, seemingly as fed up with this as we were.

"Great." Jonah smiled, clapping his hands together as he shuffled in his seat. "So a couple of us were talking about the possibility of paid maternity leave for the employees?"

"Oh, and uh, potentially some kind of aid for those who have to travel to work with little, or no, means?" You spoke up, surprising Jonah and Amy who both had assumed you were entirely disinterested in the idea of unions - you hadn't mentioned it to Jonah before, though you were sure he'd love to hear about all your anti-cloud 9 ideas, you hated how expensive travel was in St. Louis. Having had to rely on the bus to travel to and from work for years up until recently, you knew how much of a dent it could make in your pocket - especially as the main provider at home. 

In all your time working at Cloud 9, you'd spent many nights under the shared cover of the bus stop with Sandra, and delved deep into how much money that taking the bus took out of your pay-check. Even then, you'd thought it had been expensive, and you only used to take two buses to work - which was nothing compared to Sandra's five.  As you got safely, and freely, into Amy's car most nights after work now, you couldn't help but think about how much you wished you'd had better means of travel when you needed it most: and how much you wished corporate would have helped in some way. You were traveling so far for their store after all.

Though without Jonah bringing the maternity leave, you probably just would've kept your thoughts to yourself.

"You know, Cloud 9 is devoted to supporting the welfare and values of all of its workers. Okay? Thanks." Steve avoided the question, his statement entirely avoiding delving into any sort of detail about what you had just asked him, probably for corporates sake.

"Could you be a little more specific?" Jonah pushed, leaning forward in his seat as he looked directly at Steve.

"I love this." Steve commented through tight lips, clearly getting aggravated with you and Jonah's pushing and prodding of corporate policy.

"I'm sure you are Steve." You replied with a tight-lipped smile, reflecting the one that rested on his own face.

"Great." Jonah said, looking confusedly between the tension that was forming between the three of you; while he wanted change, he wasn't going to really argue with the union buster.

"We love this kind of passion and integrity that adds to all the colours of the cloud." Steve snarled, desperate to avoid your questions at all costs, yet still wanting to provide a satisfactory enough answer that you would drop the conversation all together.

"Great, but you're not actually saying anything." Jonah accused, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he and Steve stared each other down, a tense atmosphere filling the store.

"That's because I'm truly listening." Steve asserted, clapping his hands together and essentially ending the discussion where it stood.  "You know what I just realized? We have enough doughnut holes for all of you to have one more each! Right? Dig in, everyone. Line up."

"Guys, they've been there for hours." Jonah let out a defeated sigh, slouching into his chair and resting his head gently on your shoulder, a groan coming from him as his face met the warm flesh of your neck.

"Told you so." You whispered, a half-laugh half-sign coming from Jonah as he hid his smile in the crook of your neck.

————————————————————————

"Oh did I miss you baby..." You whined, taking a sip of the creamy, sugary liquid, not caring for how it burnt your throat and left you wincing in pain. Letting out a long sign, you wiggled back into the cushions of the breakroom couch, finding it far comfier then the seats you had been sat in all morning. Nursing the warm cup of proper coffee, you snuggled yourself into the couch, legs coming up to rest across the seat next to you.

"That meeting was such a joke. They're not going to do anything for Cheyenne. They don't care." Jonah groaned, throwing his head into his hands as he flopped down onto the couch dramatically next to you.

"You're just realizing that now. This company, that wouldn't even spring for full doughnuts, just doughnut holes?" Garret asked, pulling a napkin stuffed with donut holes out of his pocket and pulling one out to take a bite. Leaning forward, you pinched one from his hand, eating it whole and swallowing it down with a mouthful of hot coffee.

"It's not just about Cheyenne. It's about all of us. We're the people that make this company run. They need to start treating us better. Like Mateo what was it you were complaining about yesterday?" Jonah asked turning to face Mateo, pulling him out of the conversation he seemed heavily invested in with Elias. "Remember?"

"Yeah. Why are our customers so ugly?" Mateo quirked his eyebrows and scrunched his mouth into a scowl at the thought alone of the type of people who shopped in Cloud 9. 

"Mmm, yeah." Garret agreed, confused as to how that linked to what Jonah was saying about corporate policy and getting Maternity leave for employees.

"Oh my God, did you see that guy who came in in the hot pink flamingo shirt? Like, what was that about?" You gasped, remembering the person you had seen walk into the store the other day, you and Mateo quickly dissolving into gossiping into all the strange outfits you had seen customers wearing recently.

"No," Jonah interrupted, cutting the two of you off from your gossip as he turned back to face Mateo again. "How they keep us under 40 hours so they don't have to give us benefits?"

"Oh, right, yeah. That sucks too." Mateo let out a sigh, folding his arms across his chest and readying to gossip about customers confusing outfits with you some more, before Sandra interrupted.

"I haven't had a raise in five years."

"There you go." Jonah enthused, suddenly rising from his seat as momentum seemed to be building within the breakroom.

"I mean, not to complain. Sorry, I'm babbling. Sorry." Sandra immediately began to apologise, shrinking into herself and looking solely at the food in front of her.

"No, no. We should be speaking up about this. It's like we don't have any leverage. You know, maybe we should form a union." Jonah suggested, a silence falling over the entire breakroom at the semi-serious suggestion from the usually eccentric brunette.

"Okay, calm down." Mateo spat out, suddenly sitting very tensely at Jonah's words, halting his discussions and movement. Were union's really that scary to these people?

"You know what J?" You asked, taking a long sip of coffee from your mug, allowing your words to lull in the silence of the breakroom. "I'd be down to form a union. It's not like I've got anything better to do."

Shrugging your shoulders, you took another sip of coffee, ignoring the stares you were receiving from the majority of the breakroom at your sudden expression of interest. You couldn't deny there was an issue with how Cloud 9 treated their employees, and you'd never stand against it on your own, so if Jonah was up for it, you would be too.

"Dude, you can't get everybody here to agree to join a union. We couldn't even agree on a theme for our summer barbecue. Ended up being "1980s, Arabian Nights, Under The Sea, Harry Potter."" Garret brought up the memory that had stayed hidden in a deep corner of your mind as it happened what felt like so long ago - the summer before Jonah arrived, before you knew Marcus, before your mom kicked you out, before everything seemed to go to shit. What was barely a year ago, felt so, so long ago now, too much having happened in too little time for any of it to feel real.

"So you just want everything to stay exactly the same? That's ridiculous! What if Rosa Parks..." Jonah began, you and Garret letting out a collective gasp at the comparison he had made in the heat of the moment.

"Got it. Amped up, sorry." Jonah apologised, sinking into himself and back down into the couch beside you as he deflated as the attempt of forming a union 

———————————————————————— ""Intent to unionize."?" Amy read off of the card you had handed to her, her eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. While earlier today you had expressed next to no interest in the 'let's fix injustice in the workplace' attitude that Jonah had had, now you were handing her an Intent to unionize card - what had changed? ""International Brotherhood of Sanitation Workers."?"

"I printed it off the web." Jonah explained, his arms folding nervously across his chest as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I'm gonna cross that out and write "Cloud 9.""

"I'm sorry, were you not at that extremely long and early meeting this morning?" Amy asked, completely and utterly confused as to how you and Jonah could have come to the conclusion that talking about unionize right after the union busting meeting this morning, was beyond her comprehension. Well, most things the two of you got up to confused her.

"Yeah, I was, and all it did was confirm that nothing is gonna change around here unless we change it." Jonah explained, emphasising how if we wanted to see any true change within the store, we would have to be the cause of it - corporate would never fix what they thought wasn't broken. "If you want to help Cheyenne, this is the way to do it."

"No, this is stupid." Amy replied, ignoring Jonah's plea for support, for backing from her, for his cause.

"It's worth a shot Ames. What will corporate do if we don't do anything to show them we want - we need - change?"

"No. That's what he said about calling corporate in the first place." Amy cried, pointing an accusing finger at Jonah who threw his hands up in a defensive manner. "Not everything is worth a shot."

"I'm sorry. I'm not the kind of person who just stands by doing nothing while people around me need help." Jonah whined, trying to use his selflessness to throw Amy's aggression back in her face. While you knew Amy's support would be critical in getting support from anyone within the store, you weren't going to essentially guilt her into it.

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, I get it. You have an image of your head of leading all the workers out in some dramatic walkout, and you're gonna bring down the man. But let me tell you something. Real people's jobs are at stake." Amy asserted, trying to shut down Jonah's talk when she was fairly sure he wouldn't actually walk.

"I am so sick and tired of being painted as the stupid idealist while you get to be the smart, pragmatic one." Jonah spat out at Amy. his anger rising by the second as she refused to even think about his idea of forming a union.

"You're not a stupid idealist J. I think you just think quite optimistically." You defended, not wanting to walk on anyone's toes and choosing to hover in the midground until someone demanded you take their side.

"And I'm not saying you're stupid. I'm saying you don't know how the real world works." Amy accused yet again, not helping her situation in this argument anymore then she had been moments prior.

"There's a difference between not knowing how the real world works and not having the guts to do something about it." Jonah spat out for a final time, shutting down the discussion - for now at least -  as his definitive accusation caused Amy to fall silent.

"Holy shit." Your mouth dropped open, the screams of Cheyenne filling your ears as you noticed her being lowered to the floor just outside of where the three of you had been standing. "Is she having her baby?"

"Yeah, I think so." Amy whispered out, her voice almost trembling as she came back down from the high of her argument with Jonah, her focus now solely on Cheyenne who was surrounded by a group of staff members as she cried out from the store floor.

"We should..." Jonah pointed to the door, the three of you suddenly running out of the backroom and heading out to help Cheyenne as she birthed her baby in the middle of the store.

———————————————————————— "Oh, Cheyenne, she's awesome." Amy whispered, her hand rubbing soothingly up and down Cheyenne's arm, thankful that she had been able to be there for Cheyenne through her labour and help to make it as easier on her as possible.

"She's gorgeous Chey." You added, cooing over the tiny baby she held in her grasp as its eyes, barely open, scanned across your face, mesmerised by all the new, bright and shiny things in the world before it.

"Oh, could you not baptize my baby?" Cheyenne asked, her smile faltering slightly as Glenn began to silently draw a cross on the new-borns forehead.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Force of habit." Glenn shrugged, removing his hand from the baby's head and instead choosing to stare down in awe at the baby before him.

"Glenn, if it's okay, I might just be, like, ten minutes late tomorrow." Cheyenne admitted, shuffling the baby around in her arms as he got used to holding it.

"Cheyenne, you are not coming to work tomorrow." Amy insisted, looking up in shock at Cheyenne confession that she would be coming back to work tomorrow. She just pushed a baby out of her, she shouldn't be working.

"I'm off tomorrow Chey. I'll come in and do a shift under your name. It's no issue." You offered, Cheyenne smiling graciously at you, but still refusing your offer all the same. She was too committed to what she did - almost to a fault - to accept help from anyone to get through her struggles: she reminded you of Amy in that way.

"Cheyenne, this is unacceptable." Glenn spat out, a forced scowl coming across his face. "You've distracted us from our work. You've left your insides all over the floor, and now you've brought your child to work."

"Glenn, what are you..." Amy began, confused by Glenn's sudden outburst - especially when he always seemed so loving and caring for his employees, wanting nothing more then the best for them.

"No, no, no. I mean it. You're suspended. For four weeks." Glenn stated, your jaw dropping open in shock. What was wrong with him? "With pay."

oh.

"You want to make it six weeks?" Glenn asked at Cheyenne's attempt to stop him, threatening her with the time off of work she deserved to have with the baby; to get better and to get to know the life she had been forming inside of her for the past nine months. "Okay, fine. Bam. Six weeks. Paid suspension. You want to keep going, Missy?"

"No, I'm good." Cheyenne admitted, a sheepish and bashful smile forming on her face, thankful that Glenn of all people was her manager, and such a caring one at that. "I'm ready to go now. Thank you."

As Cheyenne was wheeled out of the store on a stretcher, you all waved goodbye, well wishing's sent to the new mother and her most adorable baby girl. Hoping you would be seeing Cheyenne later rather then sooner, you let a smile make its way onto your face, turning back to the depths of the store and getting ready to do some actual work today - though you'd already felt like you'd been working for days, having had to arrive early for the union-busing meeting.

————————————————————————

"I want a baby." You whined, stacking toilet paper with Jonah into a large pyramid shape. Though it wasn't the way Cloud 9 policy recommended, you had found it to be far more stable and efficient.

"You what? Why are you telling me this?" Jonah asked, looking up at you from where he was crouched down, reaching into the box of toilet paper and passing them up to you one at a time.

"It's just, Harmonica is so cute. I want a cute little baby. Not any time soon at least I-"

"Jonah. Y/n." Amy interrupted, her face pale and sickly, as though she had just seen a ghost. Moving the back of your hand up to her face, you rested it against her forehead, checking for any signs of a temperature that could've lead to her stoic state.

"Ah, bu-bup-bup. You think we're doing it wrong, but if we stack them five wide and low, they're less prone to toppling." Jonah explained, though cut his explanation off abruptly when he met Amy's eyes and the cold and hardened expression she held within them "What's wrong?"

"They fired Glenn."

"Are you kidding?" You exclaimed, confused as to why they would ever fire the sweet man. Sure he was clumsy, and slightly absent-minded; but he was as good as managers came, and the idea of someone else running the store knocked your stomach sick.

"Yeah, so, um...about that walkout." Amy asked nervously, afraid you would lash out at her for finally agreeing to you and Jonah's silly idea from earlier. However, you and Jonah simply shared a knowing smile, the three of you quickly splitting off to find employees throughout the store to rally them to walk out for a cause they couldn't deny: for the sake of Glenn.

————————————————————————

"Oh, um, Marcus!" You shouted the tall mans name as you walked past him, him catching you attention as he appeared in the corner of your eye. "All the employees are leaving early -they're staging a walkout because Glenn got fired."

"What? Why?" Marcus asked, turning to face you, but not quite meeting your eyes as he spoke. While this had been your first real interaction since his and Dina's date - which you were hoping would've gone smoother then this - you were happy to take what little you could from him.

"I don't know, for helping Cheyenne? Either way it's stupid." You let out a deep huff of air, silently reaching your hand out for him to take. 

The two of you walked towards the front of the store, hand in hand, and ready to help Glenn together, despite how few words you had shared and the incident this morning. Wow. Glenn really seemed to be helping out all of his employees today huh.

————————————————————————

"Oh, no, no. You guys do not have to do this. Okay, you know what? I understand that you're upset about Glenn. I know and I get that. No, no. Come on. Corporate cares." Steve begged as the crowd of employees began to leave the store, a formation of you swarming out of the doors and into the parking lot where Glenn was packing his things up into his car, having already hastily emptied his office

"Is this gonna work?" Jonah asked looking between you and Amy, the three of you having stopped at the head of the crowd only a few feet from the doors into the store.

"I don't know." Amy admitted, her words reduced to a nervous whisper. Taking her hand gently in your own, you rubbed her knuckles with the tip of your thumb, hoping to calm her nerves as she had so many times before for you.

"But it's worth a shot, right?" You asked, looking hopefully at Amy who smiled lovingly at you in return, the reiteration of her words from earlier making her smile at you, surprised in herself that she had already made such a turn around in such a short amount of time.

"So what now?"

————————————————————————

☆: .｡. Tag List .｡.:☆ @write-from-the-heart​ @despicablylara​ @whatafreakingloserr @flowercrowns-goodvibes​ @millieb-3199 @lolawassad @catarina-trouxa @falsegodofmischief @thepurplebutterflythings @littleboysmile

Want to be added to the taglist? send an ask to let me know <3

————————————————————————

Hey guys!! sorry for the delayed update this week, I was trying to incorporate everything I liked about the episode while keeping enough stuff to set up a base for season 2!

Speaking of season 2, there will be no formal update next week while I prep for that, BUT there will be a season two teaser type thing, so keep a look out for that!!

I will also be using that time to catch up on any requests that I have as I know I have at least 3 Garret ones I still need to write. So if you were someone who requested that and It hasn't come out yet, thank you for your patience and It will be coming your way very soon.

This is potentially my longest chapter yet at 7.1k words, so it took a bit longer to complete, however I did say the latest would be Friday (if you saw that ask) and where I am it is still Friday so, mission accomplished 🥳🥳

Sorry for any spelling or continuity errors this chapter, I'm too tired to properly proofread right now, but will tomorrow after I get home from work.

Thank you for all your patience and continued support, I cant wait to embark onto season 2 with you all!!

As always, Have a lovely week <3333

[tightsituationsblog]

Just as peeling an onion reveals many sub-layers, so human sexuality can present a complexity when one looks beneath the surface of the socially accepted binary labels of male & female. I use this particular image to give, what I consider, a tantalising glimpse into the place where my sexuality leads me. I’ve lived with my male assigned gender reasonably happily through my life to date. However, underlying that outward image since a very early age, I have also felt very strong affinity with my more feminine feelings.I have spent years agonising over the rights and wrongs of my dual existence, to the point where I am reasonably comfortable that I enjoy being a happy synergistic blend of my male and female personalities.

In an alternate life story I could have been born female & had a completely different take on how that life played out. I could also have been born in a generation, like today’s, where, given the way I feel now, I might have chosen to fully transition from male to female. That would be the extreme end-point to my years of self-analysis, trying to define irrefutably where I truly fit in the transsexual spectrum.

Today, living as a cross dressing male, still increasingly curious to reach the point of experiencing life as a woman as authentically as possible, I continue to add more layers to my experiences. The truth, however, is that I can never truly reach full understanding, due to the ultimately inescapable fact that, even with gender re-assignment surgery, my birth gender means that I will never have the development cycles, life experiences and complete anatomy of a cis woman. That is my personal viewpoint, others will disagree.

To try to summarise. I am incredibly curious regarding how my life would have played out had I been born female. I am so envious of the more frivolous aspects of femininity, in which I indulge myself as a cross dresser whenever possible. I love feminine fashions & choices, makeup, hairstyles, lingerie, perfumery & friendships. However there is a darker side to being a woman, cis, trans, lesbian, black, white, Asian or otherwise. Women still suffer in a predominantly male dominated world. That should never be allowed to happen. None of us would be here if not for a woman at the beginning of our story. Women face abuse, exploitation, limited opportunities and ignorance in this world, not to even mention the prevalence of gynaecological disorders & cancers in their lifetimes.

Ultimately, whether I am myself, bisexual, Trans or whatever blend of those labels, I love, appreciate & wonder at femininity. This blog is an attempt to illustrate my personal layers from my alternative viewpoint in a confusingly complex dilemma.

Laura.

[kalee60]

Wondering if you have any thoughts about beefy bucky? And maybe any thoughts about any thoughts that Steve might have about beefy bucky? For a cheeky anon 👉👈

Hoo boy Cheeky Nonnie... Do I have some thots about this??

*ahem - clears throat as it's a little thick for some reason... err - yes, yes I do... Many in fact...

Just to clarify - you mean...

Or even...

I thought so...

Oh - Cheeky anon - you are speaking my language! So I had set out to tell you my thoughts about Beefy Bucky...but Steve came screaming into the room, panting and excited, a light shining in his eyes and suddenly it was all about him... maybe one day I’ll get my say...

This got away from me slightly - hope you enjoy Nonnie! 😘

~*~*~*~*~

Steve tried to not stare, tried to be respectful like his ma taught him, tried to be the responsible adult, hero that he was. He was the paragon for truth, the beacon of all that was good, but all that ran through his head as he looked at his best friend, his semi-recently unbrainwashed best friend, was Bucky’s large frame manhandling him to the bed and doing unspeakable acts on Steve’s body.

He was past caring what these acts might be, he’d be open to anything, try anything - not having had much experience due to time or inclination. But as he sat in the mission brief and watched Bucky playing with a pencil, unintentionally snapping it between his chunky fingers, looking around sheepishly in case someone told him off for breaking SHIELD property - Steve thought about those meaty fingers wrapped around a specific part of his anatomy. A part he knew couldn’t snap off (he’d tried when jerking off - not intentionally, but sometimes he twitched hard in the heat of the moment - and he had super strength after all).

From Steve’s vantage point, a few yards behind Bucky’s immensely broad shoulders, he found his breaths coming in quicker, wondering how it would feel to be picked up and slammed into a hard surface by Bucky, to have all that unrestrained strength pushing him - up against his body. Steve shivered, knowing that, yes, Tony and Thor and the others with the use of their powers or suits could pin Steve for a few seconds - but Bucky - he’d had a similar serum as Steve and it gave him thoughts. 

Would Bucky be at the same level of strength and power, were they evenly matched in every way? And if Steve begged on his knees staring up at Bucky - would Bucky relent and finally give him all he’d been dreaming about since he was sixteen?

Steve didn’t know. But he fantasised about it a lot.

Bucky had always been bigger than Steve, had always towered over him when they were kids, and Steve fit under the crook of Bucky’s arm, snug and nice, knowing that even before the serum, Bucky could have had his way and Steve would let him - even as feisty and independent as he was. But oh god, given half the chance, in a million different ways Steve would have let him.

But then the war happened, Steve had the serum and everything changed - he lost Bucky, had lost his better half, his true north, and that was when Steve lost hope. Until the Winter Soldier appeared - no, when Bucky appeared. Hope welled eternal in Steve for the first time in years, and to now have Bucky before him, it was a dream come true and he was scared to do anything to break the bubble that was surrounding them in case he scared Bucky off again.

So through hungry eyes, Steve watched Bucky closely, helped Bucky with the holes in his memory as best he could, ignored the lack of compassion that sometimes came through, and tried his best not to ogle Bucky’s new physique.

It was hard.

Extremely hard.

Because Bucky was built, he was wide, he was thick and it made Steve jittery inside.

He was unable to hide the most basic of reactions when they sparred, growing stiff the moment Bucky threw Steve over his shoulder like he weighed nothing to land on the mat roughly before straddling him, hand gently around his throat and a smirk on his face. And Steve had to scramble to the toilets for a moment alone - each and every time. Images of Bucky’s muscular thighs either side of his stomach fodder for a slew of fantasies and he only ever felt a little guilty when he came, hand shaking around his dick and Bucky’s name on his lips.

But it was undeniable that Bucky had changed - his quick smiles gone, humour buried away with only a glimpse here and there, but Steve knew Bucky, his Bucky was lurking somewhere in the depths, and Steve was slowly teasing him to the surface. So it would be completely unfair to foist his desires on his friend - a friend who'd never indicated that he liked Steve on a romantic level.

So Steve sat behind Bucky in the briefing, letting his mind wander, allowing his gaze to rake over the back of the too tight dark blue henley, Bucky’s shoulders taking up more space on the chair than Steve’s did - and he watched. 

Steve’s eyes traced the lines of Bucky’s wide stance as he moved in the chair, watching the toned muscles shift under the shirt and he couldn’t help lick his lips, only to look up and find Bucky stalled, stopped in his tracks staring over his shoulder at Steve with something deeply shadowed in his eyes. And Steve had been caught, caught staring like a man dying of thirst and Bucky the only person in the world that had a trickle of water left.

Standing up hastily, Steve fled - heading towards his room on the thirtieth floor, not knowing if the briefing was over or not, not really caring - he’d walked out of them before - it was only a safety meeting about new protocols that Steve himself had helped to create, but he couldn’t sit behind Bucky and stare at his bulk any longer. Bucky might have already realised where Steve’s thought’s had been, and he needed a moment to agonise over it.

He’d only just made it to his hallway, sprinting up the stairs as it was quicker than the elevator, when a huge solid hand grasped his arm, yanking to slam Steve up against the wall and suddenly two very intense blue/grey eyes were staring at him, pinched at the corners, questioning. Steve was no longer concerned about being called out - he was too busy sweating heavily at the sheer muscle Bucky was showcasing by pinning him to the wall, and he flexed, trying to move, but Bucky - oh fuck - Bucky had him. Steve would have to exert a lot of energy to break the hold, and his knees buckled.

Bucky grasped him, holding him upright as he sagged, “hey pal - you okay? What in the hell is going on?”

Steve managed to get his knees to lock long enough to hold his weight, and Bucky wide-eyed and concerned held him trapped. Held him aloft in his strong arms, his flesh one just as huge and muscular as his metal one.

“Yeah I’m alright,” Steve ground out. And he was, mostly - except for the tenting in his cargo pants, something that if Bucky stepped in less than an inch would feel pressed against him in all it’s post-serum glory. And Steve shouldn’t have thought that - what had it done to Bucky if the rest of him had grown so thick.

Bucky exhaled slowly, then looked up at the roof and Steve watched the sinews dance under the skin of Bucky’s neck, the wide hefty expanse of muscle that had to be at least twice the size as before. Steve wanted to lean forward, nip at the jutting Adam's apple, lick it, suckle it and have Bucky tense the muscles so that Steve could trace the hardness under his stiff tongue.

Words escaped him before Steve knew what was happening. “You’re so big.”

Immediately his face flamed because the words didn’t come out like a question, or a matter of fact statement - it was breathy, whispered with reverence, with a tone that couldn’t be disguised - Steve sounded horny for Bucky, and shame welled up.

Shutting his eyes, Steve shook his head, trying to get up the strength to break free of the large hands holding him, but Steve was learning he was a masochist under Bucky's control, Steve wanted it, no matter how he got it - all of that power and force bundled into the man he’d been in love with all of his life, it was too much.

“Open your eyes, Stevie.”

He was powerless not to, not when Bucky called him that.

Bucky’s long hair had fallen over one side of his face, and he peered at Steve, a small frown between his eyes as he worked something out in his head, Steve having seen that puzzled expression many times, usually directed at the coffee machine or at Sam, until suddenly like the dawning of a new day - his face went slack. 

He’d realised something, something big. And Bucky stepped forward, closer, the entire length of his body now against Steve, and although Steve was still a little taller than him, he felt as small as his teenage self while Bucky held him aloft using just his body, and it was only then that Steve realised what Bucky was pressed against and… oh…

What was now pressed against Steve in return.

“Buck…” he said brokenly.

“How long?”

“Errr…”

“How long, Steve?” The demand came with a tightening of hands on his biceps and Steve groaned at the pinch, the pressure, and Bucky threw his massive flesh arm across Steve’s collar bone instead, restraining him, and Steve just about came on the spot. It was too much, the sheer strength, the sheer size of Bucky was making him quake like a teenager with too many uncontrollable hormones.

“For as long as I can remember.”

“Jesus,” Bucky swore and let go, Steve slumping against the wall, and Bucky took one step away, Steve had ruined it - ruined everything.

“Well, are you coming or not?”

Steve looked up at the order in Bucky’s voice.

“Where?” he croaked.

“Your room, it’s closer - I’m going to nail you to your bed and make you scream Stevie Rogers - I have one vivid memory of before the war, and I know it was just a fantasy. And right now... right now I want to make it a reality.”

Bucky strode away, intent in each step and Steve watched the sway of his thick hips, the delectable peach-like ass he wanted to sink his hands and teeth into, and Steve stuck to the spot, couldn’t believe what was about to happen.

“I’m not going to ask twice.”

Steve jumped to attention, and had never ran so fast in his life.