#gonna put a pin in this for the next time i get art block | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dzpenumbra · 2 years ago

Text

1/13/23

Today, I had momentum. In a manner of speaking. I really should've used the momentum to go out to an actual store myself, but... I've just been freaked out lately. I don't know. An aversion to the public again. It's like... reflexive.

Instead of fighting it, I did Instacart again. I got these Command strips that are like... adhesives strips for hanging shit in your house. I really need to get my whiteboard back in commission. My therapist and I talked about that yesterday. The most structured and consistent I've been is when I had a reliable whiteboard system, a check-in system when the whiteboard is located in a very visible, highly trafficked area in my house. And I have the perfect spot. So I got these strips, some stuff for the bathroom, a birdfeeder and a succulent plant. Yep, I got my first plant for the apartment. And it only took me a month and a half. But hey, it's done!

So, I get the stuff delivered and I pick it all up. I feel like doing this Instacart stuff is like... practicing for not having a car. Because... I have a feeling that's the way this car repair situation is going. So... I'm kinda just preemptively adapting, I guess. I'm sure there are other reasons but... I'm not getting into that right now. I wanna recap this clusterfuck.

So I get the strips out, I got a TON of them just... in case. I figured I'll use them for hanging all kinds of shit. The first thing I see on the package is "do not apply to paper or fabric", and... like... ALL of my art is paper or fabric. I really should've seen that coming, and beat myself up plenty for it, but like... ugh. Really felt like I pissed a bunch of cash away on that. AND that ruled out my small whiteboard, which has a cardboard back on it. -_- So I went "okay, at least I can still do the big whiteboard", but it has a metal frame around the whole thing... and that frame is big enough that the strips won't work. At this point I'm getting frustrated, that was the point of the entire order... So I look over and see my wood coat hook thing, it's like a big piece of finished wood with a bunch of coat hooks on it. I go "at least I can do that, that's something. I slap the strips on it and go to line it up on the wall... and the thing is warped to hell. Like twisted warped. So the strips won't lie flat on the wall. That one upset me a bit. So... I unscrewed the hooks, got some wet hand towels, an extra piece of wood and some clamps and that fucker is gonna be sitting in the windowsill for the next few days. Hopefully that straightens it out, if not, I'll just make a nice carving out of it. Someday...

So that really got under my skin. Like... the bulk of the shit I was going to do today was just... problem after problem. My mom called. We were on the same page for a bit. Then I just went "I swear, if I just had thumbtacks this wouldn't be a damn problem, I've been using exclusively them to hang stuff since college." And... she corrected me that I meant "push pins". And I felt real goddamn dumb... because this whole time I thought they were called thumbtacks, and I've been searching for thumbtacks and not finding them anywhere. Welp, turns out people do have pushpins... But... I was trying to just roll with it and went with these strips, I was like... if no one has these pins, and that means I won't be putting holes in the wall... then fuck it, right? And I just felt really dumb. And then I started kicking myself that I didn't add them to the order this morning. And she suggested I order some. And I started getting really upset that I would have to place a delivery order for a $2.50 pack of pushpins. Like, the delivery cost would be higher than the cost of the item. And then I went to "wow, I can't just like drive 5 blocks up the street for this?" And my brain went "wow, you're really gonna risk getting sick for a pack of pushpins". And this happened like... lightning speed. Like within probably... 2 seconds tops? I went from being frustrated that I didn't add these to my order earlier in the day to being afraid I was going to asphyxiate alone in my apartment.

I was mid-conversation when this happened. It must've been disorienting to my mom, I just got really distant and frustrated and shit. I just started shutting down. And she went the wrong route, she started trying to reassure me that the problems that I was seeing weren't as big as I thought. She went the "Covid isn't really a thing anymore" route. And I, with surprising grace considering the circumstances, let her know very clearly - 1) I'm experiencing very strong emotions right now, don't listen to the tone of my voice, please listen to the words that I'm saying, 2) Please don't make this political. 3) The problem I'm working through is emotional, not practical. Don't try to make this go away, or make my feelings go away, help me find a way around or through it. If there isn't a way around it, we can come back to that.

It was surprisingly successful. We didn't fight. That happens every damn time. Every time I get stressed, I wear it on my sleeve. And the person on the other side starts floundering, or takes personal offense to it, sees me as aggressive or combative or something. It happened with my last ex constantly. It happened in the retreat I went to too, some other resident thought I was pissed off at them personally because I was detoxing off of meds and dealing with my family shit. I just... didn't hide my stress, I wore it on my sleeve. Because my feelings are big and if I stuff them inside, I end up with chronic health problems. I mean that literally. I did irreparable damage to my body because of repressing stress, I was constantly sick to the point of being nearly couch-bound for stretches of time because of it. It took me a lot of experience and therapy to accept that I just... have way more emotions than a lot of people that I know, that I'm sensitive. And that that is okay, it's good. It's just part of who I am. It makes me equally as weak as it makes me strong. It just really fucking sucks that I have to like... explain myself all the time.

In hindsight, my dog was the perfect companion for me in that... she was basically a mirror of me. In a lot of ways. Highly emotional, and feared. And I defended the fuck out of her for it, never as much as I wanted to or felt I should, but much more than I defend myself for the same exact shit. See, she was incredibly social, super friendly all the fucking time, but she... was a sable German Shepherd. And... people... make assumptions. They jump to conclusions. I say this because I can't count the number of times I had to say "don't worry, she's friendly" or "is it okay if she says hi?" or "don't worry, she doesn't bite". Shit like that. Like I'm walking around with a goddamn crocodile on a leash, come on people. Like, instead of people expressing their own fears and prejudices and communicating them clearly and honestly, it gets to the point where the accommodating people who are constantly being persecuted... just walk around introducing themselves already explaining shit preemptively. "Hi, my name is ____, I'm a sensitive person. You might see my mood change rapidly, this might be reflected in my posture, tone of voice, facial expression, etc. You know, like a fuckin dog or a cat. But guess what? Unlike a dog or a cat, you can just be a civil fucking person and go 'hey, you look upset, you wanna talk about it?' or, you know, excuse yourself out and fuck off or whatever." I don't know man, people are fucking weird, and it's just so fucking tiring and demoralizing to have to go around constantly apologizing for other peoples' fears. It really does a number on your self-esteem.

Anywho, that drama was averted. We had a great conversation and covered a lot of stuff. I made dinner - potato skins, chicken and rice. I got the xbox hooked up, which is nice. I started recording a new Rimworld playthrough, no clue if it's gonna fit the bill. I feel like I've been getting really picky lately. We'll see what happens. I was planning on doing my master list of things I need done, and my whiteboard, but I got so sidetracked by the strips and tacks that I just... didn't get those done. But I got a lot of planning done, I got my first plant and I got a birdfeeder. So I'd call that a good day. Oh, and I saw a Pileated Woodpecker out the window. I used to see them in the woods all the time, and I heard it calling outside and immediately recognized the sound. So I got a birdfeeder, cuz fuck it. And I'll try to get it set up tomorrow.

The only other shit I have to talk about was like... Twitch drama... which is like... duh? I guess? Like... one streamer saying "my kid is getting screened for autism next week" and "wouldn't that be my punishment for calling my audience the 'r-word'". And I get it, it's blunt around the edges and poking fun at something that's clearly making him uncomfortable and scaring him. I guess it's just how we process fear sometimes? I think that's a huge component to humor, especially dark humor, they're just ways of having conversations about difficult topics that otherwise we wouldn't be able to really comfortably address. Humor lets us speak more openly about it. But it really does matter what your intentions are. And I'm not sure if his intention is to... learn how to be okay, to accept potentially being the parent of a neurodivergent child. He doesn't seem to really see any good in it, he seems only fixated on how difficult it would be, how parenting a neurodivergent child is harder. And that rubbed me the wrong way, to the point where I just left. I was kinda just... discouraged. Like... that's your kid, dude. Getting a diagnosis doesn't make your kid a different kid, it just gives you a language to understand your kid better. Which should really be every parent's goal, I would think. Right? Just sayin. A positive diagnosis just opens the door to a bunch of researched techniques to make your life easier, nothing else changes (other than the stigma of others). A negative diagnosis means nothing changes. So yeah. I dunno, really bummed me out and left a bad taste in my mouth.

The other one was going over to another streamer and seeing him, once again, just blatantly being a schoolyard bully. But in roleplay, in character, so it's not him bullying, it's his character bullying another character. And it was just like... man. It was hard to watch. Like I've watched a lot of this streamer in the past, and it never really felt this blatant and unfiltered. Like, I know he likes to antagonize and poke and get reactions and shit... but like... this was just like cartoonish. It's a damn shame, he is a pretty funny guy. But I've been noticing nearly all of his humor is at the expense of others, in very personal ways. Like a comedian that only does crowdwork. And the crowdwork is like "hey look at this fat fucking guy in the front row, hey fatty, how many pizzas have you eaten today? Am I right?! Haha what a fat fuck." Like... okay. I mean if your target audience is 14 year old football players, I guess that's funny? So yeah, it was a lot more creative before... I thought. He did this big arc where he had a cop that was very feared and very aggressive (obviously, barely even have to act for that one) but was a closeted gay man and crossdressed and all that. And I liked the way that angle was played in the past, it made some really funny moments and even emotional moments too. But that era passed at least a year ago, longer now. And now... it's just... really bad freestyle rap. And having an out-of-character temper tantrum for actually doing jailtime for multiple crimes he admitted to on the ride to the station, because "admitting to crimes is his character's thing." Like... okay. It feels like a lot of it is just letting the most valuable part of all of it - the creativity - take a backseat while viewership, sponsorships and "winning the interaction" take the front seat. Like the most creative thing I saw him do in one hour of watching this stream was punch a cop through the prison bars 7 times, and say "I'm not so much of a Hootie fan, I'm more of a Darius Rucker fan". Which is either a joke that went way over my head, or a complete swing and a miss at trying to get 90's pop music hipster cred or something. I feel like I'm losing braincells just talking about this. I've been raising my standards for entertainment lately, and I think I should continue that trend. I don't really need to waste my time or energy getting stressed out about people I would never give the time to in person. And I sure as fuck am not watching their ads.

Okay... gotta reset the vibes before bed. Oh shit, it got late again, 3:45. Crap. Um... I don't know, I got really excited about plants today, and I had this idea. Apparently it's pretty easy to propagate succulent plants, you can just grow new ones from their leaves apparently? Like clone them. And I had this crazy vision of like... experimenting with that and getting good at it and then just like... leaving some outside my door in case people wanted them? Maybe encourage people to slide donations under the door if they want? Or just straight up sell them. Because apparently they're easy as fuck to take care of, and hell, maybe other people would want one? And I'd love the project, I think it would be really fun. And I could design my own containers and stuff! That would be cool. Idk, it was a thought. There was a place that would mail you like 50 cuttings for like $8. If I got half of those to grow and sold them for like... $3 each? That's not bad. Just sayin.

I'll keep it in mind. But for now, I'm heading to sleep. Bye.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

0 notes

sleeplessvalley · 3 years ago

Text

actually fuck this

an art piece someone worked on. maybe it has some words on it. maybe it's a whole comic! if you misread it initially you just mentally correct yourself and move on

don't bring it up

definitely don't make it visible to the artist

especially don't if it's something they clearly worked really hard on

more often than not they're probably gonna want to maim you. doubly so if you don't even seem to acknowledge the art and just laugh at how you read it initially because it WILL seem like you're saying 'lmao you're fucking dumb for formatting the words like this'

#daitex.t #mlergh #safety pins for imperfections #I'm really fucking tired of getting those sorts of replies on my art!!!!!!!!!!!!!#seriously next time it happens I'm just gonna start blocking people #my tolerance is BEYOND gone for this sort of thing #but holy shit did that reaction to my first fully finished piece in MONTHS piss me off #I am genuinely not capable of having myself or even anyone else bring this up #like to the person that did it #because in either case the force of my anger is going to come down hard #I DID NOT. PUT A DAY AND HALF'S AMOUNT OF WORK INTO THAT. FOR SOLELY THE WORD PLACEMENT TO GET LAUGHED AT.#thanks for the compliment at the end! feels very fucking backhanded #if you're still reading this: CAN YOU TELL I'M ANGRY BECAUSE I REALLY FUCKING AM #don't bring this up to me I'm just. rrhrhghrhghrhr #I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN THE THING THAT OTHER PERSON SAID ABOUT THE ALOHA PIC #NOT ABOUT TO FORGET THIS EITHER! YAY /s #.................. so anyways it goes without saying don't talk to me about this.

2 notes · View notes

bugaboooooooooo · 2 years ago

Note

sorry it took me ages to get around to this (shakes fist at life in general) but here i am with some trademarks of your art!! obviously i think of your extremely feral scrunkly lady noire as a trademark but you already know how much i love her heeheehee!!

i think what makes her feel so scrunkly though is the way you use lines - your lineart is both clean and sketchy at the same time, like every line feels deliberate and as though it's been put down very carefully to create a specific effect, but it's also full of energy and a life of its own! like the lines have just jumped from pen to page and it's so impressive that you can make your lineart feel carefully crafted, effortless, and wayward all at the same time!!

however having just rambled about lines you also do amazing lineless work!!! i really love your style when you use blocks of colours but because you choose the tones so carefully and place them so precisely it doesn't feel blocky! it feels smooth and natural and effortlessly minimalist despite requiring a lot of talent!! hmm...maybe your trademark is how effortless your art feels despite using complex techniques and obviously requiring a lot of careful thought? because that's definitely something i notice regardless of style!!

another big characteristic of your art for me is Fashion - not only are you able to put incredible looks together, but your art style really reminds me of the sketches fashion designers make!! (i think i mentioned this before and you said you wanted to be a fashion designer as a kid so it makes sense!!)

also in terms of specific features - a mask that looks like two parts that *just* meet in the middle is definitely one of your trademarks!! also girls with 50s pin up vibes!! oh and That Outfit with the stripey shirt and trousers/skirt with a patch (with big stitches...kind of like your lady noire!! was it inspiration??)

i feel like i could babble on about your art trademarks for a long time because you use lots of different styles and they're all unique to you and have their own individual trademarks!! your art is just very special imo!! *cradles it protectively in my hands*

omg hi cory!!!!! teehee im so happy that so many ppl assosiate lady noire with my art!! (also, do not apologize!!!! *joins you shaking your fist at life*)

AAAAAAA THANK!!!!! lineart is something ive definetely struggled with in the past, so im SO SO SO SO INCREDIBLE HAPPY that it comes over as sketchy but also clean!!! gah cory. you are gonna kill me with all these compliments!!!!! and i love how you describe it as having a life of its own- i usually like using my lineart as more of a ''guide'' as to where im gonna put the colours, then like. a template to fill in i guess??? NOT SURE HOW TO EXPLAIN IT LMAO BUT IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT

AND THANK YOU!!!!!! omg i feel like such an imposter rn lol, i always eyeball stuff HOWEVER it is definetely a Struggle to have stuff not look blocky if you for exampe have two similar in value/darkness colours next to each other so im rlly happy that my art feels smooth and nice!!!! thank you!!!! and !!! AAAA that means a lot!!! its definetely not something that id be able to put my finger on myself but you described it perfectly!! not sure about the careful thought part tho, my brain while drawing is half somewhere entirely else and half like. ah yes. Vibes. No no not like That. YES. hmm. lines. no., Hmmmmmm.. !! you give me too much credit lol <3 but im glad that ive succesfully created the illusion that i in fact do Think about what im drawing

EEEEEeEEEE ty!!! FASHION!!!! fashion has definetely had a huge influence on how and what i draw so it makes sense that thats reflected in my art!! and haha ty, im glad you like all the fits i put together!! :D

and teehee YES i LOVE drawing masks that way!!! and That Outfit!! now that you mention it, YEAH it IS kinda like lady noire!! it wasnt inspo tho! (at least not consciously)! also, its rlly interesting that you said that you get 50's pinup girl vibes from my art!! i dont rlly see it, but it does kinda make sense bc i always loved the vibrant colours and vibes from them!!

WAH THANK YOU!!!!!! cory im cradling YOU gently in my hands

Whats my art trademark?? (ask game!)

#i think its v funny how im putting that copied super normal sounding ask link right after 5 full paragraphs of me saying Stuff as if im don #e and back to normal again #(im not)#anywyas. tags.#ask #ask me anything!#ask game

8 notes · View notes

nihils-trolls · 2 years ago

Text

After a long, quite literally heated night, she'd managed to make a decent getaway. Mayara walked along a busted up sidewalk, on her way home from a 'successful' run. She takes off her now singed crop sweater and ties it around her waist.

The street is empty, save for a few trolls dotted here and there; she decides it's fine to relax. Maya makes a few motions with her hands.

[Tonight was pretty crazy, Rami.]

Is she.... signing to herself? Clearly the conversation is aimed at whoever this "Rami" is, but she's walking by herself as far as most can see.

[What? No, I'm pretty sure no one got too hurt. You worry too much.]

She chuckles, and continues walking. For a moment, she's silent. As if waiting for her partner to finish speaking. The surroundings change from industrial warehouses and factories to crowded hives and stem clusters. They all look nearly the same; compact, made with cheap materials and held together by some miracle.

[Nah, plan went off without a hitch. I got the stuff I stashed awhile back.]

[Once we get hive I'll make sure all's well.]

Picking up the pace, she keeps moving towards a tall, narrow building. It has a storefront with a heavy-duty shutter blocking off the entrance and windows; the sign on the front reads "Makh-Up Armaments." A stroll down the alley along side it reveals a set of stairs that lead up to a door on the next story.

The inside is a modest-sized hive that sits above the store. Even though it seems a bit cluttered with mementos, art and various bits of tech, the place is clearly well taken care of. In the back is a small, personal workshop that's kept notably more tidy than the rest of the space.

Well, for now that is.

[Allllright Rami. Time to empty the ol' pockets.]

She ejects her modus into the nearest empty space. Clearly she hadn't done so in awhile, as it makes a much larger mess than expected. Scrap material, her tool bag, bits and bundles of wire... Oh, so that's where that solder went.

Right out on top are the most important packages: a large, sturdy black case and a slightly crushed cardboard box. Maya picks them out from the heap and promptly moves to her worktop.

In the case lies a pair of enormous twin pistols; the 16 inch barrels had been engraved and the grips fashioned with comfort in mind. She checks them over briefly, then gets to work on opening them up. Apparently she had removed the firing pins at some point, and only now is replacing them.

"S' a real shame the deal didn't go through as I hoped. If I'm bein' honest, I did kinda expect them to try n' skip out on payin' me. Nothin surprises me anymore. Eheh."

She's referring to the client that had ordered these weapons. They had made up their mind to eliminate the debt rather than pay it off, but clearly things didn't go as they planned.

"Man Rami, you shoulda seen the look on their faces when the gun didn't fire. Fuck-inngg hilarious."

Maya snorts, speaking out loud now. Apparently she was just nervous about looking insane in public earlier.

"Think they learned their lesson?...... Nah, me neither. Hah!"

It doesn't take long for her to put the firearms back in working order. Once they're finished, she stuffs them back into the case and wanders off to her respite block.

"Did I what now? I mean yeah, I guess I did.. I wasn't there to make friends though, so what's it to ya'?"

Maya plops backwards into a bean bag. She's clearly a little bothered by the response she got, based on the scowl she has on her face.

"Yeah well, it's nice that you care, but I can def handle makin' friends or whatever. I got you anyway, don't I?"

She begins to drift off in her seat, clearly exhausted from the recent events.

"Whatever dude. Clients don't make good friends. Not gonna.. happen."

#nihil writes #mayara stuff #this has sat in my notes for long enough i think

4 notes · View notes

fear-and-delight-l · 4 years ago

Text

GENDERSWAPPED!LOSERS

HERE WE GO

JILLIAN DENBROUGH

-Jill is very avid about getting her sister, Georgia back. Well, at least the killer anyways.

-Jill has never finished any of her writing, until she is an adult.

-aRTiSt??

-Jill gives hugs hugs hugs!!!

-everyone wants her hugs.

-ok, Jill is very sexually confused. Bradley Marsh is good looking...but so is McKenna Hanlon with her pink lipstick and her always good looking pigtails....then there is Sarah Uris, who is so cute with her blonde/brown curls and her little cheerleading outfit.

-suffers from stuttering simp disorder

-simp simp simp

-simp? Yes.

-ok but I think she would like Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus lmao

-FLANNEL GODDESS!!! Has flannels in so many colors.

-”R-R-Riley, stop m-making fun of m-my j-j-jorts.”

-oh yeah. She is rocking the jean shorts. They either go to around her knees or near the middle of her thighs.

-shoulder length brown hair. Screams bisexual.

RILEY TOZIER

-just gonna put this out there, take it as you will, but her glasses make her look like a fish. Her eyes are HUGE

-goddess or (what is a non-binary god? Godthem?) of dad jokes. But not the corny kind. The kind of dad jokes that include sleeping with him and “riding him like a horse.”

-”so not fucking funny.” -Edith Kaspbrak, who’s dad isn’t even present in her life. -yeah, bisexual. -sexual for Edith Kaspbrak. -And Sarah Uris

-And Bradley Marsh

-and Jill Denbrough

-and Brenna Hanscom

-and Patrick Hockstetter (she regrets this. But when Patrick isn’t chasing her with Bowers and Criss and Huggins, she likes to notice that Patrick is definitely good looking)

-crazy wavy hair. Seriously, she wears it in a pixie cut, and it is CRAZY. But she help Bradley cut away his mullet.

-the friendship dynamic between Riley Tozier and Bradley Marsh is UNSTOPPABLE!

-plays softball with Jill. She is pitcher, and damn is she good. (Jill plays third base, for reference)

-the girls on the softball team sort of like her, sort of not. She’s a loser, and they don’t like her because everyone thinks she’s queer. -still a trash mouth

-still a smartass

-Rildeth? Edithley? Redith?

BRADLEY MARSH

-all right, here we go.

-POWER BISEXUAL

-He came out to Riley, and Riley came out to him.

-daddy issues

-anyways, Bradley had a mullet that his dad made him wear, and when Riley helped him cut it....freedom!

-when he and the other losers are going to the quarry, he likes to help McKenna pick flowers so Sarah will have some to turn into flower crowns

-is totally charmed by Jill Denbrough. He is a simp for how charming she is. Bravery, art...

-Bradley also likes to draw.

-Brenna may be totally smitten with him....

-Bradley is the same age as all the other losers, but the losers all see him as older.

-hates his father, feels weak around him.

-he and Riley often share cigarettes. (I love the friendship dynamic here.)

-Bradley has little freckles, and when he and Brenna get together as adults, Brenna likes to kiss all of them.

-Bradley loves to hang with Sarah, and she is such a sweetie. She gets annoyed, but when she is around Bradley, she is calm.

-Bradley likes to put his arm around Sarah, ALWAYS

-I’m in love

SARAH URIS

-WE LOVE OUR JEWISH CHEERLEADER LESBIAN

-yes, Sarah Uris is cheer captain. The other cheerleaders are skeptical of her, but treat her ok nonetheless.

-Sarah Uris is a softie who will tell you to fuck off.

-bridwatcher. Sarah loves her birds. She likes to sit with Jill. Jill draws birds while Sarah quietly talk about the birds.

-Brenna loves to play with her curls, braiding them and doing fun styles with them with the help from McKenna.

-sundresses one day, shorts and a shirt the next.

-her hair is so nice! Think...classic curls. Google for reference.

-the cheerleaders don’t go to track meets or softball games. So, since Brenna and Edith are both in track and Jill and Riley are softball players, she goes in her own cheerleading outfit, and even snags one for McKenna, (who isn’t a cheerleader.) and they both cheer at track and softball.

-must I remind you that Jill is a simp for BOTH OF THEM. AND BRADLEY?? HE CHEERS THEM ON TOO.

-one time Bradley actually got into a cheerleading skirt??!!

-anyways, back to Sarah. -she loves to give everyone kisses before leaving. Here’s how she gives them:

Jill: cheek kiss, runs a hand through her hair. Edith: takes Edith’s face in her hands and kisses her nose. Edith sometimes backs up a little when she feels a little panicky about germs, but always accepts Sarah’s kiss. Bradley: forehead. She ruffles his hair, and sometimes, Bradley kisses her chin as she is kissing his forehead. McKenna: near her lips. Like, the corner of her mouth. 🥺 Brenna: cheek kiss. She holds brenna’s chin while kissing her. Riley: straight on the lips. Or the forehead if you song ship stozier. -ok, I am a huge fan of Sarah+Riley....but then there is Edith. Poly??? Possibly

-anyways, Sarah loves to make flower crowns and put them in bradley’s hair.

-she and Brenna are very close. If Sarah isn’t next to Bradley, or has Riley’s arm around her shoulders, she is with Brenna, either holding her hand or showing her stuff about plants or birds. She gives Brenna constant praise about the barrens

-very grumpy a lot.

BRENNA HANSCOM

ok, Brenna is straight. I didn’t change that. -Brenna thinks constructively, and is a visual learner. Constantly thinks about the future.

-ok, she is so so so sweet. Likes to wear this cute pink skirt, but only around the losers.

-POETRY

-She loves to read and wrote poetry. It’s so cute I just can’t aaaah-

-ok, so she’s on the track team. Edith convinces her in 10th grade.

-HAIR CLIPS! she has them in her hair, and tons extra in her backpack.

-Bradley loves it when Brenna plays with his hair and puts clips in it.

-she and Bradley are very good friends.

-she may be straight, but isn’t uncomfortable when Sarah holds her hand or Riley talks about her gay situation or when Jill tells her she’s pretty. She just isn’t gay but she loves and supports her gay friends. She even kissed McKenna in a game of spin the bottle

-poor baby has body insecurities...

-ugh, she hates Henry Bowers. But she loves ice cream! She likes vanilla because it’s sweet and plain.

-when they have sleepovers, everyone always has a disc of New Kids on the Block to play for her (AAA!)

-Riley literally swore to protect her. Even though Riley’s sarcasm can be demeaning, she trusts her.

-Brenna Hanscom, a sweetie that will fight for you.

McKenna Hanlon, the badass vegan who definitely has WAP.

-ok, I didn’t change her race, she is still black.

-McKenna is a sign of hope. Everyone feels so uplifted around her.

-she has this signature pink lipstick she wears everyday the Greta Bowie makes fun of, but she still wears it.

-she loves bubblegum. McKenna has it ALL THE TIME.

-inspiration? Yes. She is a goddess.

-ok, she is so nice, but that gun she has? Pennywise doesn’t stand a chance. McKenna is a fighter.

-McKenna has these cute little pig tails that she wears with purple ribbons. Jill loves to listen to her talk.

-definitely the least insane of all the losers, but girl knows how to have fun!

-not a huge smoker, but occasionally will share one with Bradley.

-the friendship between McKenna and Bradley is impeccable. They are a badass duo.

-I don’t know what her sexuality is. She definitely doesn’t. Although she and Jill got caught making out in a closet. They said it was no strings attached....suspicious.

-she is indeed vegan. She just has a special love for animals and can’t bring herself to eat them. She isn’t protesting everyone to go vegan, she just eats how she wants. She occasionally slips and goes for ice cream though😉

-at the rock war, after she recovered a little from Bowers, SHE BEAT HIS ASS!

-my queen, gosh I love her!

-she is so much fun to be around. One time, in the barrens, she installed a swing so she could sit in somethin because Riley and Edith and Sarah are always in the hammock together. (It’s bound to break).

-need a therapist? She’s ya girl.

EDITH!!

-ok, so this looks very soft girl, but Edith is fiery! -her mom makes her worry a lot about disease and what not, but her anxiety about what her mom may do is worse.

-seriously, she is scared of her mother. She doesn’t even know if her sickness are real.

-anyways, don’t fuck with her. She will bite you.

-no seriously, she will bite you. One time in a fight with Hockstetter, she bit him. She was worried she might have gotten something in her mouth, but Sarah calmed her down. -she may bicker with Riley, but really, she loves her. Her and her stupid glasses,

-anyways, she is a sweetie. She runs track, but as long as Riley is waiting on the sidelines with her inhaler at the end, she is alright.

-someone give this girl a hug.

-internalized homophobia towards herself.

-she and Bradley are good, they just aren’t as close. Edith is closest with Jill.

-Edith looks up to Jill, big time.

-Edith hates her mom very very much.

-she wears cute little tops with shorts or skirts. Occasionally she will wear overalls.

-fuck greta Bowie campaign? Yeah, Edith started it.

-Fanny pack! She has an extra pair of glasses for Riley, Bobby pins for Sarah, an extra pen or pencil for Jill, a mini stick of Bradley’ favorite deodorant, hair clips for Brenna, and McKenna’s favorite bubblegum.

-Riley calls her Eds. She hates it because it sounds like a boy name. She hates it even more when Riley calls her Eddie.

-kisses tears away. Crying? She will kiss your cheeks and wipe those tears away. She did that when Brenna got cut by Bowers.

-inhaler? Yes. It’s her little beacon of safety.

-ice cream and comic books with Riley, bird watching and flower crowns with Sarah are her favorites!

-doesn’t know her sexual preference, she’s just not straight.

-butterflies always land on her when she’s outside. One landed on her nose once and Riley and Sarah started rock-paper-scissoring for who got her. (That was long forgotten since Riley is a sore loser.)

-my baby has long hair is very slight waves. It goes down to her breasts.

-likes to wear Jill’s Flannels.

-OK SHE IS SO CUTE IN A PAIR OF BAGGY JEANS AND A TANK TOP, WEARING SOMEONE’S JACKET OMG

-Edith is cold? Never. She always has someone’s something, whether it’s McKenna’s iconic leather jacket or Jill’s flannels

................................................................................................................................

Ok! Those are my headcanons. Feel free to repost, I don’t give a damn. If you want drawings or more headcanons of them, I am always open. I had this posted on my old account but that got taken down....I was previously coffeeandweasleys

@im-a-rocketman, @nate-isnt-great @imreddieimreddieimreddie @ur-not-reddie

126 notes · View notes

wolveria · 4 years ago

Text

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet

Chapter 5 art by @semains (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

“Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor x android!reader #inside your wires #my fanfiction #my writing

95 notes · View notes

nethandrake · 4 years ago

Text

Blood In The Water

stevethortony. mcu. rated t. 1.8k words.

based on this fanart i commissioned from @justlous-art

also on ao3.

*****

Press conferences, in Clint’s opinion, are one of the worst things he has to experience.

Every time the Avengers has to host one (which is usually almost every fucking week), it’s always the same old reporters throwing accusations, the same old debates being tosses around, the same old headaches and boredom creeping into his mind. They always end with everyone in a shitty mood.

The only upside Clint could see is that he only needs to speak up if a question’s directed his way. Otherwise, it’d be their co-leaders’ job to fend the wolves off.

Their co-leaders who are currently and unfortunately answering another stupid question from the press.

“Yes, Stark Industries will be footing the bill,” Steve says tiredly.

“We always do,” Tony chimes in. “Now, you with the green-striped tie. You’re up.”

The journalist in question straightens, fixing his tie. Clint doesn’t remember seeing him at any of the conferences but he looks awfully familiar.

“He’s from Fox News,” Natasha supplies next to Clint.

It takes everything in Clint to not bash his smash his face against the conference table. “Shit.”

“Shit indeed.”

“It is no secret that Mr Stark is, to put it lightly,” Fox Man begins, his reedy voice making Clint’s skin crawl, “promiscuous—”

“What does this have to do with the giant squid we took down?” Steve interrupts.

“—and have been known to get into relationships with men, women—”

“What is the point of this?” Thor cuts in, his cool demeanor now turned irritated. “We are deviating from the—”

“My question to you, Captain,” Fox Man continues, unperturbed, “is, what are your thoughts regarding Mr Stark and Mr Odinson’s…relationship?”

Tony stills as murmurs begin to fill the room. Pepper immediately whips her tablet out.

It’s not the first time Clint’s heard of rumors of the Avengers dating amongst themselves but it’s never been brought up during their press conferences.

First time for everything, he supposes.

Thor jumps to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. Outside, thunder crackles.

“You dare—”

Steve isn’t doing much better to rein his temper in, leaning forward with a dangerous glint behind his eyes. “I’d be careful with what you say next. Rumors of the Avengers fraternizing isn’t new so—”

“Oh, this isn’t just a rumor,” Fox Man says coolly. He jumps to his feet, holding out his phone. “I happen to have…proof.”

In a flash, Happy strides over, most likely to block the man’s path like the good Head of Security he is. Steve waves him off, beckoning for the device to be handed over to Clint.

On the phone is a picture of Thor and Tony kissing in a dimly lit alleyway. Or at least, men who are supposedly Thor and Tony. It’s hard to tell since the quality’s crap.

Then again, they’re both bathed in a soft blue glow. A soft blue glow that Clint’s come to associate with the arc reactor.

“That isn’t photoshopped,” Fox Man claims. “If you swipe left, you’ll find a video.”

True enough, there is one of Thor pushing Tony against the wall and god, that’s so gross. Who knows what’s on that wall—

Natasha snatches the phone out of Clint’s grasp, giving it a long once-over.

“Thoughts?” Clint murmurs.

“It looks authentic,” she admits.

Well, then. Fuck.

When the phone ends up in Steve’s grasp, Clint swears cracks form on the screen.

“I would like to know if there have been…issues between you and Mr Stark,” Fox Man continues like the oblivious idiot he is. Clint’s ready to reach pluck an arrow from his quiver and pin the asshole to a wall. “You come from a different time, a time where traditional and wholesome American values are valued. Mr Stark isn’t known for possessing such values. And it is widely known that you and Mr Stark did not get along. And with this…alien—”

“I get it,” Steve growls. It’s been a while since Clint’s seen in this furious. He looks ready to pounce, if Tony hasn’t stilled him in place.

Steve’s features meld into something soft, a look that Clint’s privately coined as the ‘Tony Look’. Oddly, it’s the same look he flashes Thor. The three of them trade glances, glances that only a super soldier, a god, and a genius would know. Tony’s lips curl into a reassured smirk. The other follow suit.

Clint wonders if that’s how Natasha and him are like. Because damn, he gets why people think it’s eerie.

“First of all, let me be clear about this,” Steve begins, “I will not let you or anyone disrespect my friends like that ever again. This is a warning to the rest of you all as well. You, however, I’ll make sure you’ll be banned from the next conference. And don’t think I won’t remember your face. Because I will. I have a good memory. As for your question, I don’t have anything to say about that. But I do have something to show you.”

Without hesitation, Steve leans over to capture Tony’s lips in his.

Clint would’ve toppled over if Natasha hadn’t steadied his chair.

“That’s…”

“Bold?”

“I was gonna say unexpected,” Clint says. “But yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

It’s an open secret among the Avengers that Steve and Thor have been hopelessly pining for Tony for months, even going so far as trying to outdo each other with their efforts of wooing Tony.

Judging by the way Tony’s cupping Steve’s face as they make out and the shit-eating grin Thor has plastered on as he saunters over to the two, it seems like they’ve come to a mutual agreement. A silent mutual agreement.

How the fuck did this escape the rest of their notice? Of Clint’s notice? Steve and Thor are two of the least subtle people around. The fact that they and Tony could keep their relationship on the downlow is blowing Clint’s mind.

Steve and Tony part with a quiet smack. Tony turns in his seat to fist Thor’s shirt to give his own kiss.

“I think my brain’s short-circuiting.”

Natasha scoffs. “You’re acting as if you’ve never seen two men kiss in your life.”

“Well, I’ve never seen my friends kiss each other,” Clint hisses. “You gotta cut me some slack here. I mean, look at Bruce.”

“Bruce looks fine.”

“His eyebrows look like they’re gonna climb off his forehead.”

Steve’s cheeks are flaming red when he shyly turns back to the stunned crowd in front of him. His expression quickly turns icy when he meets Fox Man’s eyes, who looks torn between hiding in a hole or lighting the rest of them on fire.

“Does that answer your question?” he challenges. “Or do you need me to give you another demonstration?”

Thor doesn’t let Fox Man reply, smirking as he inches over to Steve. “I dare say we have not finished his question, my love.”

And with that, he seals Steve’s lips with his.

Clint almost passes out.

“Okay,” Natasha says. “Now, that? That I didn’t see coming.”

Tony’s all smiles as he watches his boyfriends (boyfriends!!!!!) make out in front of everyone. It’s the smuggest and proudest he’s ever seen him.

“Suck it,” he says into the microphone, casually flipping off Fox Man, who looks like he’s ready to explode.

For some unexplainable reason, the rest of the journalists zero in on Clint after that.

“Don’t look at me,” he says, hands held high. “I ain’t kissing them.”

Natasha smirks. Bruce covers his grin behind his sleeve.

Out of the corner of Clint’s eyes, Pepper rubs her temples and pops a pill.

*****

The next day, Clint and the rest of the Avengers pile into one of the stuffy conference rooms on the helicarrier because according to Tony, ‘Eye Patch is in the mood to ream their asses’. Which is so, so unfair since Clint wasn’t the one who made out with his boyfriends in front of the press. Why the hell did he need to face Fury’s wrath when he wasn’t the one to out himself to the press?

Much to no one’s surprise, said boyfriends don’t show up.

Fury’s scowl is much more steely than usual when he storms in, slamming a newspaper onto the table.

Emblazoned on the front page is a picture of Tony flipping the camera as Steve and Thor make out in the background. Avengers: Gay Orgy?!, its heading screams.

“Is there something you people wanna tell me?” Fury begins icily.

“There is no orgy going on between the six of us,” Natasha immediately answers.

“Or five,” Bruce adds.

Clint nods his head, gesturing towards the newspaper. “Yup, yup. The only Avengers having an orgy are them.”

Fury raises an eyebrow. “And what the hell do you call this, then?”

“A threesome,” Natasha replies.

Clint frowns at her. “But that’s not even a threesome. They weren’t even having sex.”

“Threesome could mean three people as a group,” Bruce offers.

“Ah.”

“Speaking of threesomes, where the hell are Stark and—”

A resounding crash cuts Fury off, jolting everyone in their seats.

Everyone hustles out and makes a beeline for the conference room next door. Clint gets into position, readying himself to let his arrow fly.

He expects AIM beekeepers, HYDRA goons, or even Doombots. Instead, they’re greeted by the sight of the conference table cracked, the room in disarray, and the other half of the Avengers in a tangle of limbs.

Tony has sandwiched himself between his boyfriends as he sucks the soul out of Steve. Next to them, Thor glances up at Clint and the rest, beaming and flashing them a thumbs-up before Tony drags him into a kiss.

Clint’s going to need bleach for his eyes when he gets home.

“Are you sure the squid didn’t spray them with sex pollen or something?” he begins tentatively.

“Nope,” Bruce replies. “We got checked over, remember?”

“Twice,” Natasha adds.

Steve has the decency to look ashamed when he catches sight of them. He pries his boyfriends apart before jumping to his feet in haste. “Director! I– We were just—”

“Late,” Tony continues for him. “Sorry about that but—”

“We were distracted,” Thor declares.

“I’ll pay for everything,” Tony adds.

Fury looks absolutely murderous.

Clint clasps his hands. “Well! I think it’s safe to say that we all need a break. Or bleach. How about we adjourn this meeting for a while and—”

“Three of you are dismissed. But you three,” Fury jabs his fingers at Steve, Thor, and Tony in turn, “stay. We need to talk.”

Steve’s cheeks darken. Thor puffs his chest. Tony grins lazily. Their hair is disarray, their clothes wrinkled, their lips red and puffy and— Clint is not going to think about that. Nope. Not at all. Not if he wants to sleep at night.

Natasha immediately makes a beeline for the door. Bruce wipes his glasses with his shirt, following after her.

Out of the corner of Clint’s eyes, Fury rubs his temples and pops a pill.

*****

True to his word, Tony ends up paying for all the damages incurred on the helicarrier. All twenty thousand dollars’ worth of damages.

Clint couldn’t look at Conference Room Three the same way ever again.

*****

also on ao3.

#stevethortony #stevetonythor #stevetony #thortony #stevethor #tony stark #steve rogers #thor odinson #steve x tony #steve x tony x thor #steve x thor x tony #thor x tony #steve x thor #*fic

97 notes · View notes

sarahjkl82-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#ppascaledit #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader

81 notes · View notes

waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

Note

My love... may I request my favorite, Marcus Pike, and a plus sized female reader with #78 from the smut prompts? "Can you feel what you're doing to me?" 💚

Eyes on you

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Plus Size Female Reader, (past) James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Plus Size Female ReaderCharacters: Marcus Pike, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff,

Setting: Washington DC to start then moving to New York City. Set years after Marcus’s move too DC, After The Mentalist ended. Marvel AU no powers

Rating: M (Mature), E (Explicit), NSFW, +18 only please

Warnings: stealing, mentions of other art heist jobs, violence, gun violence, smut, oral (female and male receiving), unprotected and protected sex, Dark Bucky Barnes (more to come as the series grows)

Summary: High end art thief sets his sights on the one woman Marcus Pike can’t seem to get out of his thoughts. Now paired together for an undercover mission will Marcus keep his composure and those feelings hidden or will this mission fuel his desire to finally go after his most precious piece of art?

Word count: (Prologue 790)

Notes: written for the beautiful @lucrezia-thoughts your request grew doll, I’m sorry not sorry and thank you for all your help and support. Also written for the beautiful @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday picture prompt.

Tag list:

Forevers: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Prologue

File folder lands with an inaudible plop drawing your eyes from the computer screen to pages scattered across the wide expanse of your already cluttered desk. Traveling upward, brow cocked with a half smile on your mauve painted lips, pausing to take in the set of Marcus’s shoulders. Arms tightly crossed over broad chest, “Something I can help you will Pike?”

“Got your go bag handy?” Countering with his own question left hip cocked out studying your confused drawn features. “Got a break in the Barnes case, seems he’s setting up shop in New York City,” one hand coming out to point towards the file. “Specially bought a block of brownstone houses, pictures in the files of what he’s turned them into. Son of a bitch thinks he can flaunt his stolen wealth right in front of our noses.”

Nabbing the file and thumbing through. Pausing with a small gasp the beautiful architecture drawing your eyes. “It looks Mediterranean but I’m not sure without a closer look,” glancing up to catch Marcus’s eye. Hard edge to the normally soft chocolate browns, “How’d you get this information? Especially the photo’s Marcus,” attention returning to glossy eight by ten. Fingers tracing the common ivy vines climbing up impossibly pink limestone walls, back down over the balcony with its pointed trefoil arch cut into the stone. You could only guess at the type of wood used to construct the balustrade of every balcony you could see. Clear turquoise water catching your eye tracing the mosaic of tile visible. Mentally calculating how much money the cost of renovating a brownstone costs, let alone a whole block.

Till a throat clears and you look up, heat raising over your plush form at getting caught drooling over the spectacular architecture. “Never finished your thought Y/N,” teasing smile tugging at his full lips. Enjoying the awe he see’s written over your beautiful face, a rarity in your line of work these days.

“Just that,” swallowing you look back at the file in your hand. Flipping through the photo’s pausing once again. Eyes damn near bugging out of your skull when they land on those cerulean blue’s you long since pushed into the back of your memory. Praying Marcus didn’t catch your slip, “We could actually nail him this time and hopefully get back all the stolen art.”

Nodding Marcus sensed you holding back, having seen the flicker pass over those deep orbs he’s tried many times to forget during the dark of night. “There’s more,” bottom lip worried between his teeth while watching your expression flip from neutral too curious in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t leave me on pins and needles Marcus out with it,” clutching the file to your ample chest not sure if you’ll like his next words. Running a hand through his perfectly kept dark brown locks noticing he’s tugging slightly. A nervous habit you figured out about three weeks into the partnership. Same hand lands on the back of his neck rubbing tension away. Another tell which has your gut twisting, “Spit it out Pike I’m not getting any younger.” Trying to make light of the matter to put you both at ease.

“How would you feel about taking a little trip to New York City Mrs. Rossi?” Seeing the array of emotions cross your face from confusion, to thinking and understanding little gasp accompanying the revelation. He’d find the display endearing if your facial features hadn’t settled into one of uncertainty. “Don’t do that Y/N you’re the finest agent I’ve ever worked with, don’t doubt yourself.”

“It’s not,” pulling your bottom lip between indenting upper teeth trying to figure out how to ask. Going for blunt, “Who’s my partner? Please tell me it’s not Miller or Morales, there’s no getting along with either of them. We’d blow our cover…”

“You’re looking at him,” words cut across your babble stopping the flow of words with a gapping of you jaw. “We gonna have problems already wife?” Infusing his tone with a playfulness not felt as his thought run an iron man triathlon through his mind.

Even since the file dropped on his desk half an hour ago Marcus knew there’s only one person who could help him pull the mission off without issues and actually bring James ‘Bucky’ Barnes to justice. Only true concern brushing against his better judgement? His feelings kept buried under duty, and honor. The job always coming first, and the fact you’re his partner. Bringing this high class thief to justice could also destroy the friendship he’s built over the last five years with you. Or… slight shake of his head to push those thoughts firmly away. Needing to focus on catching Barnes and nothing more.

#Write Wednesday #Marcus Pike x Plus Size Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader #Marcus Pike x Plus Size Fem! Reader #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Fem! Reader #Marcus Pike x Plus Size F!Reader #Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader #Marvel AU #Pedro Pascal Characters fiction #Mentalist Fiction #Thief Bucky Barnes

65 notes · View notes

inactivefandomblog · 4 years ago

Text

Things I noticed when I re watched Birds of prey last night

Hi all, I watched BOP for the second time last night and I wanted to write down some of the things I noticed as I had seen @wordsoflittlewisdom , Idea credit goes to them on this one. I’m aware that some of these things are not exactly new discoveries and were blatantly obvious to others, but I have ADHD and a processing delay meaning that I don't always take in all the information the first time I watch a film. For example, I had no idea Renee was gay for ages, even though they tell us she had an ex girlfriend (I think I was too busy fan Girling that Ali Wong was in the film then though to hear that bit). I have to focus more on the overall plot when I watch things the first time, but the second time I was able to scan for little details and take in more things. Without further ado, here’s what I noticed.

“Do you know what a harlequin is? A harlequin's role is to serve. It's nothing without a master. No one gives two shits who we are, beyond that.”

-When Harley is talking about Harlequinns serving their master, she is not just talking about her relationship with the Joker, but about Canary letting Roman be her master. She is saying that she felt like she was nothing without the Joker. She is also implying that Dinah feels the same about Roman, and that she shouldn't because he doesn’t actually care about her like the Joker didn’t care about her.

-THATS WHY SHE ONLY HAS ONE SHOE IN THE CHASE SCENE!!!!! SHE USED IT TO PIN DOWN THE ACCELERATOR IN THE TRUCKKKKKK!!! MYSETERY SOLVED!! ... though.. she didn’t change her shoes to a full set between then and the police chase the next day/ later on the same day. Meaning she didn't go home after that...so did she just like wander around Gotham after committing a huge crime obviously tide to her XD of course she did, she’s Harley Fucking Quinn! Either that or she passed out somewhere from being very very drunk, hopefully her apartment and not just a street or something.

-BONUS: fanfic idea: DRUNK HARLEY HAS A FUNERAL FOR HER SHOE THAT GOT BLOWN UP IN THE ACE CHEMICALS EXPLSION, WITH BRUCE AND THE BEAVER. after she leaves the crime scene. That just seems like a thing drunk Harley would do, as I imagine she loved those shoes as they were awesome..so were her sequin socks.

-The first time I watched it I didn't realise that the fireworks weren’t actually there - because that was all in Harley's head and the film is from her pov - even though we are showed that when the police arrive there are none and it's just a regular explosion. Not until I was told this was the case and realised we were literally shown this later on.

-She goes from being a Harlequinn to Harley Quinn as she becomes emancipated.

-Roman just lets Zsas grab his arms and restrain him when he’s mad, switch energy much.....also they are defo gay for each other. Zsas was acting like a jealous boyfriend when he gave Dinah even an ounce of attention. He legit told her to come back later when he just started massaging Roman’s shoulders. Roman let's Zsas rub his shoulders and comfort him, Zsas wants to protect Roman...need I go on.

- Cass’ parents are yelling about how they don't want her if you listen to what they are saying, so they’re not just fighting, they’re fighting because they wish they never adopted her. She can hear them saying all this too. This made me feel even more sad for Cass than when I thought her parents were toxic to each other in my first watch through.

- (Trigger warning: mention of domestic abuse and child abuse)

Cass’ parents didn't want her and seemed to be very hostile, its not mentioned how Cass got her cast...but I realised that it could suggest that her parents broke her arm. Which would go on to suggest that they were abusing her physically as well as emotionally. Hence why she didn’t trust people, and was so hurt when Harley betrayed her. Because when she says that she though Harley was different, she meant that she thought she could trust Harley and that Harley wouldn’t hurt her.

-Margot’s real accent comes through when she tells Canary ‘I haven't told that to anyone’ when telling her she Broke up with Joker, as well as a few other times throughout the film.

-Cassandra is quiet and not talkative in her first scene because her throat was hurting because of the diamond. That's why she coughed to try and clear it . At that point in the film we hadn’t been shown that part but it was set after it happened so it makes sense when you re watch it.

-Cassandra’s jacket has a little middle finger logo on it, which I thought really suited her character.

- Cass has ‘asshole’ written on her cast, a drawing of a gun the word ‘fuck’, the word ‘magic’ - which is probably a reference at how she does some stuff that is similar to closeup magic and uses the same magicians technique of the art of misdirection - she also has what appears to be two playing cards, one with hearts and one with diamonds. Which is most probably a reference to Harley Quinn’s whole hearts and diamonds thing she has going. Didn’t comic book Harley also have a link to those specific playing cards too? or something like that?

EDIT: THEY ARE PLAYING CARDS!! I GOT A BETTER LOOK AT THE CAST IN THE COSTUMES VIDEO.

- TW: mentions of abuse and child abuse and trauma

The whole diamonds are a girls best friend is Harley going somewhere else mentally to cope with the trauma of being abused - we see her being spanked by a nun when was younger suggesting she was abused then too, and I think it is a part of her comic book story that she was but I don't know for sure - when it flashes and Guns appear that's reality trying to seep in. She's trying to focus on the diamond and block everything else out

-I spotted what looks like a mini mallet on the wall in her kitchen that could potentially be a meat tenderiser, and if that is the case then that is a fantabulous little Easter egg type thingy. The handle looks too long to be a pot, it has a diamond pattern on it and it is next to another tool for preparing meat...so now I'm just waiting on Margot Robbie,Cathy Yan or Ella Jay Basco to Reply to my tweet and confirm it.

-Helena speaking Chinese makes me laugh for some reason, I think its her facial expression.

- Kid Helena’s crayons when she's drawing the revenge pic are all perfectly spaced and placed like her stuff in her bathroom scene. Further evidence of her perfectionism/ her liking things a specific way.

- The towel in Helena’s hotel room on the bed (seen in mirror reflection) is in the shape of a little person.

- Canary sheds a tear when Roman harasses the lady on the table, I didn't notice that before because I looked away as the scene made me really uneasy.

- Harley screws the cap on the nail polish before putting it down even though there's someone at the door after them. This made me laugh because she thinks the police is after her but still takes time to do this, which is such a Harley thing. Like when she bent down to pick up the penny when that guy was gonna kill her.

- Roman has a shirt with his face printed on it.They did a good job of using the costumes and sets to show his egomaniacal trait.

- The look of acceptance of Harley's face when she realises that no one cares about, after the last person she thought cared about her (Doc) betrayed her, is heart-breaking.

-How was Renee not injured from getting launched out the window? Even if she didn't fall all the way to the ground and landed on the top of the entrance bit, she’d still be injured.

-WHERE DOES HUNTRESSS STORE ALLL THOSE ARROWWWSSSSS????? SHE FIRED SO MMAANNNNYYY! I DIDN’T SEE A QUIIIIVVVER OR ANYTHING. I guess she just stores them in sub space along with her hammer¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-Also I think I figured out what the chain is for, at first I thought it was for the crossbow to attach to. Then I though not as she leaves the crossbow on the floor by itself in the funhouse fight scene, but then I think I saw it attached to it..so I think she can just disconnect it when need be. Plus it just looks cool.

-Alllssoo, she toooottallly checked out Dinah! HELENA IS DEFO GAYYYY! she has big useless lesbian vibes. They really knew who their target audience was when they made Helena look so stunning and badass. The producers really said ‘hello LGBTQ+ community’ (hopefully y’all know that tiktok audio or that wont make much sense) Also, if you don't believe me, I have a gif of her doing it on my blog. So there’s no denying it.

-Why were the lights on in the funhouse if it was abandoned?? Maybe its just more Harley vision? but the carousel was rotating too...

Anyway that's everything I noticed, thanks for reading if you made it this far, and even if you didn’t...you wont see this then but still. Thank y’all .

#harley quinn #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #birds of gay #birds of prey #dc #movie #dinah lance #huntress #black canary #renee montoya #dinah x helena #cassandra cain #victor zsaz #roman sionis

66 notes · View notes

nixotinix · 4 years ago

Text

More convention advice!

Reminder that I'm not a con veteran, I'm a teenager with a distant relative who runs a big ol con. I'm relaying information that I've heard before.

This convention guide is all about etiquette at conventions and a convention survival kit! Let's get into it!

Con Etiquette

There's a lot of unspoken rules to follow at a convention. A few of them center around cosplaying. So let's start with the most important rule.

Cosplay. Is. Not. Consent.

That is the most important thing to remember. Cosplayers are people, they have their insecurities, they have their boundaries, and just because they're in a wig and some fancy clothes doesn't change that. Don't take a photo of a cosplayer without their direct verbal or certain nonverbal consent. If you're in a crowd and there's a lot of people taking a photo of a cosplayer, all you have to do is get the cosplayer's attention, hold up your phone or camera, point to said phone or camera, and give them a thumbs up. If they return your thumbs up, or nod, or show any other direct consent, go ham! Take your photos! If not, don't take the photo. Simple as that. Don't try to sneak photos either. They see that shit.

Also regarding photos. If a cosplayer is sitting down, on their phone, eating, or has parts of their cosplay off, do NOT ask them for a photo. Walking around in a wig and three layers of clothing isn't comfortable, and cosplayers need to rest. And don't stalk the area waiting for them to be finished, then ask to take the photo. They see that shit. If you have to ask them anything, ask them "Hey, I like your cosplay and I was wondering if you'll still be wearing it later". That's it. If they say yes, cool! Try to find them when they aren't resting and get your photo. If they say no, oh well. You don't get a picture. Boo hoo.

Oh, and don't sit in popular photoshoot areas, all you'll be doing is taking up space. Find a bench or a staircase or something to sit on. Sit on the floor if you have to, just don't sit by the pretty backdrops.

Don't touch the wig. Don't touch the prop. Don't touch the costume. Don't touch the person. Some of these things can be very fragile, and you have no way of knowing that. Sure, you can ask. But your answer will probably be no.

Don't be loud and annoying. Nobody likes to be around you if you're loud and annoying. And, I don't know if this is still a thing, but when I went to my last con or two, there was at least 2 groups of My Hero Academia cosplayers (no hate to MHA, it's just the most popular source for this kind of thing) who would circle around people and link hands while chanting some weird cryptic shit. That can make people freak out big time, and it isn't funny at all. Don't do it.

If you see something in the vendor's hall or artist's alley that you don't like, for example, fanart for a ship you don't like, walk past the booth and move on. Don't say anything. Don't blow up in the artist's/vendor's face about how that ship is toxic, or how they drew that character with bigger hadonkadonks than they have canonically. Just move on and don't make a scene.

And most importantly.. mind your personal hygiene!!!! You don't wanna be that person that makes people gag when you walk by. Shower once a day, because con musk is real and it's bad. Pack deodorant and USE!! IT!!! Don't make other attendees have to pack air freshener for when you walk by. And remember. Axe Body Spray or any kind of body spray at all does not equal a shower. A shower equals a shower!

Now for some rapid fire smaller tips.

Don't wear big headpieces during panels, especially if you're close to the front. It can block other people from seeing what's going on. Take it off and set it on the floor or in your lap. Same with phones. Don't hold them in places that blocks other peoples' view.

Unless you're on a bench or chair, keep walking. Don't block the flow of con traffic.

Don't ask cosplayers for a hug, kiss, a date, their contact info (depends), or inappropriate photos. And ask specifically if you want to be in the photo with them, as some cosplayers don't like this.

If you're cosplaying and bringing a prop weapon, be sure to get it screened and checked first thing so the con organizers know it isn't a potential threat. If it doesn't meet the requirements, it will either have to be modified or you won't be able to take it into the con. Check the requirements of your con for weapon screening.

Try to get your badge the day before the convention actually starts. If you try to get it the first day, you'll be waiting in line for half the day and you might miss out on some real cool events.

See something, say something. Don't be afraid of looking like a jerk when someone is being creepy towards you or someone else, or otherwise making you or them uncomfortable. Report that creepy person's ass to security or employees/volunteers as soon as possible.

Convention Survival Kit

-Remember the 4-3-2-1 rule for con weekends. Four hours of sleep a night, three activities that involve sitting down a day, two meals a day, and one shower a day. These are bare minimums, and if you dip below these minimums, you're gonna have a bad time.

-Deodorant! Again!! Hygiene, people!

-2 litres of water, at least for the full weekend.

-A snack bag!

-A backpack to hold everything with. Make sure everyone in your group has one. If you're cosplaying, fuck it! Theme it to your character. Get a secure padlocked one if possible to prevent pickpockets.

-A cosplay repair kit. Even if you aren't cosplaying, it can help out a cosplayer in need. Pack a sewing kit with a few thread colours, safety pins, bobby pins, hairties, eyelash glue, some simple makeup, things of the like. Maybe a hot glue gun, but that's pushing it.

-A first aid kit with bandaids, hand sanitizer, Ibuprofen, and gauze. Feel free to pack more, as this is the bare minimum.

-Any other necessary medications or menstrual products for you or your party members.

-Shampoo and conditioner. These might be provided by the hotel, but better safe than sorry.

-Makeup wipes! Good ones. To wipe off any makeup you were wearing at the con.

-Always have one person in your group with the Essentials Bag. First aid kit, cosplay repair kit, portable phone charger, snacks, water, money, and anything else that might be needed.

-Leave extra room in one of your bags to put anything bought into, then divvy it up at the hotel room.

-Portable entertainment! Card games, books, dice, anything really. As long as it doesn't take up too much space, you're good.

-Notebook or sketchbook. You never know when you might need an autograph, or a sketch, or the name of a business because their cards ran out. Pack a pen and a Sharpie too. Sharpies can write on anything, even those laminated schedule sheets.

-COMFORTABLE shoes. You'll be walking around all the time and your feet will hate you if you're walking around in stilettos. Does not apply to cosplay, but carry a pair of comfortable shoes that you can switch in and out of throughout the day.

-Cash! Yes, everyone uses cards now, but it never hurts to have an extra 20 bucks on you. Keep this money separate from anything you plan on spending at the convention and only use it for emergencies, like a gas refill or over the counter medication.

-If you wear glasses, pack your cleaning cloth.

-Chapstick and lotion. Save your skin.

-An art storage tube. Cylinder things. You're gonna buy some prints and you don't want them bending.

And that's all! If I forgot anything, let me know and I'll add it to the list. Next installment will be: Cosplay Contests- What They Are and How to Enter!

#kingscontips #convention #convention etiquette #convention tips #contips #convention survival kit #long post #cursing tw #caps tw

29 notes · View notes

verdandasrsblog · 4 years ago

Photo

So this week I got Annoyed™ at Kara-Meir and Garlandia’s designs (Partially due to @enkoro-rs suggesting I do Kara-Meir, after which I fell down a rabbit hole). Like with the Laniakea overhaul I’m going to put my reasoning/inspo under the cut for anyone that’s interested

Honestly, where do I even start with Kara-Meir? I guess I’ll just go top-down,

1) Hair - Based on the novel covers it seems like she was supposed to be blonde originally, and just have an absolute shit ton of hair. Since the flow of the in-game design’s braids didn’t make no goddamn sense, I found some ACTUAL braided bun hairstyles and combowombo’d them into one mega hairstyle. The pins in the buns with the danglies are really just to be fancy, but I also wanted to incorporate the bits hanging off her belt in her in-game model’s concept art.

pictured: whatever the fuck these are supposed to be

2) Skin/Face/Eyes - So originally I actually colour dropper her skin from the concept art and then realized she was maybe a bit tanner than the concept, but you know what? Fuck it. I tried to keep her face shape from the concept since the cover art of her is just kinda “Generic white lady” but honestly she got a bit pointier than that in the end. I’m also not sure what her canon eye colour is supposed to be; Zooming in on the ref just gave me brown, which is what I ended up using, but if that’s not correct and anyone has the novels let me know.

3) Clothing - So I restrained her cape to something someone could maybe fight in, but my main concern was her armor - She’s supposed to be a knight but what’s up with the bikini boob breast plate? She’s portrayed as wearing both chain and full plate in the cover art and is clearly a melee fighter, so changing her to plate armor seemed obvious. Since she can wield Sunspear (t75) it makes sense to me that her Def would be somewhere in the 70s to match, which with the rework means necronium.

So like, obviously Necronium is a particular aesthetic that didn’t seem quite right for her. Looking at her lore, she has a wolf theme in her backstory and since she's also supposed to have some smithing ability (she was raised by dwarves) I thought it'd make sense that she might make her own. She’s also been to Morytania in the books, meaning she could have access to Phasmatite (Her access to the Necrite is a bit more iffy but she is hanging out on Tuska after that event so she has at least some experience with the desert). I had tried out the red glow initially but it looked like shite and didn’t really fit her anyway, so I think the gold is a better compromise both character-wise and aesthetically.

4) Sunspear - So she canonically has a sunspear, and I ended up using the current in-game design for it since her concept art one just seemed... unstable

I get that it’s reforged or whatever but it looks like it’s gonna shatter on impact with anything

Truthfully, though? You know what she should have? One of THESE bad boys:

AKA just a Grecian-style spear head. It’d also be more believable that she thinks it’s a dagger if it looks like this. I still think the in-game sunspear is a bit more ~dramatic~ but it should just be a spear tip quite frankly

Okay, onto Garlandia:

1) Hair/Face/Skin/Eyes - I’m grouping the hair in here since I honestly just left it as the in-game version (At least from what I can see from her chat head, I can’t remember if there’s some BS going on on her back or not). Ancient Greek women did tend to braid their hair so that’s accurate-ish, I guess. For her skin though, she mentions in dialogue that “Her skin shed its colour”, but her model isn’t any paler than the other icyene in game. Accordingly, I made her significantly paler, and gave her a bit of frost bite damage on her extremities from the winter she had to endure after her wings were ripped off (I considered making it darker but there’s a point where they just need to be amputated since it won’t heal, so I went with something less intense to show that it’s healed since). For her eye colour, I zoomed in on her chat head but it wasn’t quite clear - 2/4 icyene in-game have blue eyes, but I went with gold to match the rest of her pallet.

2) Clothes - This is a big one since I spent a lot of time staring at Greek art trying to figure out what a Greek-inspired character would wear when they never want to be cold ever again (It would make sense for her due to the trauma). Additionally, her skin is kinda fucked, and having it be uncovered would probably just lead to sunburn which is the last thing she needs. The shape of the middle woman’s chiton below inspired the hem of her dress, since I wanted to give her a very flowing, fashionable look:

She was supposed to have been a noble so like, fuckin’ Fashion, Baybee

I also turned her weird metal underpants into a girdle, since a waist band of some form or another isn’t uncommon in the images we have of ancient Greek attire:

Garlandia, why did you have metal panties?

Since she’s a bard (I THINK?) I also strapped on some extra storage for sheet music. Her jewelry was inspired by the following pieces, though TBH she could probably be decked out more, I just wanted to leave her hands mostly free for that good good harp playin’

3) Shoes - These get their own section because I did way too much research for it not to. Basically, most Greeks straight up didn’t wear shoes, never mind socks. Also, in her model, is it just me or do her shoes look uncomfortable as fuck??

Yikes girl are those cutting into your thighs?

Anyways, with her feet/toes being fucked up from frostbite, I wasn’t going to NOT give her shoes/socks, which meant I started looking at roman artifacts instead:

I found mention of romans wrapping their feet in fabric when it got cold, but the only “sock” I could find was from a roman fort in Britain:

So, like, needless to say after all that and also getting suckered into reading about the nuances of gladiatorial combat for like an hour I ended up going for something more modern:

So anyways they’re 0% accurate from what I could find but I like the vibe

4) Himation - So remember what I was saying about how Garlandia would probably hate being cold? Check out these bad boys:

Basically the ancient Grecian version of the Blanket Cape, and also used as outerwear in the winter! It seems like the winter ones would have been made from wool, I’d imagine she’d wear it most places except maybe the desert or Karamja since those are warm enough on their own.

Anyways thanks for coming to my fucking runescape character redesign dissertation, next on the chopping block? Who knows. Maybe Zuzu (I heard her voice acting recently since I never play with sound and YIKES YIKES YIKES YIKES I HAD NO IDEA OH GOD)

#runescape #runescape 3 #rs3 #kara-meir #garlandia #redesign

36 notes · View notes

effinsusie · 3 years ago

Text

Day 7: Purple

CLASS ACT ch 2 on A03

Summary: School’s finally out. Rated T+

Their tangled bodies fell together in a heap of sweaty exhaustion, clinging on as the world around them slowly fell back into place. Kagome's head finally stopped swimming, but she was still catching her breath, and the heavy rise and fall of his scalding chest beneath her cheek told her he was as well.

When the last stars sparkled from her vision; the fingers buried in thick, wild strands gave a gentle tug that forced her to look up.

"Look at you," she croaked, nuzzling deeper in his embrace, "So smug. It just slipped."

"So much for your restraint."

Those long, talented fingers lazily worked through the knots he'd put there. His own hair was no better, and she braved the arrogance she spent the last two hours feeding just to take another glimpse of the rare, disorderly sight.

Too rare, she sighed. At least lately.

She rolled on top of him to put her face in his own; the challenge in her eyes caused his eyebrow to lift.

Soft lips drifted to his ear. "Bet you can't make me say it again," she whispered before heatedly kissing the abused flesh, sucking on his lobe.

Warm hands smoothed over her backside, squeezing roughly when she rotated her hips. He rocked into the friction that stirred his arousal once again, releasing a guttural groan when skillful lips moved down his neck.

"Hn, I have worked too long around children to not identify such a childish ploy, Miss Higurashi."

Lean legs parted, pinning him between her knees and she rested her forehead heavily atop his own. Blue eyes looked innocently into his, batting dark lashes against his heavy lids.

"Does that mean you are going to discipline me, Principal Taisho?" she taunted, squirming into him again.

She let out a delightful shriek when he made firm contact with her ass, which became a pleasured gasp as he soothed the erotic sting with the offending palm. She threw her head back, encouraging the attention as he feasted on her throat to a chorus of breathy moans and sighs.

When she tried to rise up on her knees, a swift maneuver toppled her, so she was trapped half-way beneath him.

"You are in for a long night," he promised lowly. "I will ensure you are hydrated."

As he tried to pry himself off, she clung to him in protest. He returned for a kiss.

"I will not have you passing out from exhaustion before I am through with you."

Another slap reddened her other cheek, and she finally let him rise, rolling onto her back with a satiated smile.

Scooting to sit against her headboard, Kagome watched on fondly as he took a couple of tall glasses into the bathroom and busied himself at the sink. His chiseled body was covered with bitemarks and bruises, and she admired her handiwork in the various shades of purple littering his long, pale form.

"I meant it, you know."

He looked up from the glass he was filling, lips quirked. "I know."

The smile they shared relayed much more than the lust they'd spent the better part of the evening celebrating. But the circumstances of their relationship forced too much to go unsaid as it was.

"I've really missed you this week."

The hint of sadness in her voice reflected in his gaze, making her feel guilty.

"I will endeavor to make the next more accommodating, lest we find ourselves both seeking employment."

He was only half-joking, but it was clear that ignoring their desires at work was impossible if they couldn't find at least some time together during the week.

She hated those rules, but she loved this job. And she had only just started there. She didn't know if his tenor made the situation better for him, or worse.

"Maybe me, but they won't fire you."

"I am your superior," he said, and shut off the sink. "I am held to a higher standard."

"Don't think that's not how I'll plead my case if we get caught, either." She grinned cheekily as he walked back in the room, a full glass of water in each hand.

"Don't think I will not support those claims."

She was only kidding, but Kagome truly believed she was the only one in danger of getting put up on the chopping block if their colleagues found out about them. At the very least, his job would be spared.

His reputation, on the other hand...

Not that hers would be any better, but that was the more likely consequence of their torrid little affair.

At least, she had to believe it was. She didn't know if she could carry on like this if she thought their actions might ruin him. Speaking of which...

"I meant to ask; did you get ahold of Kagura?"

He rounded the bed carefully with his cargo, looking too stoic not to be uncomfortable with the topic.

He'd pointedly avoided discussing her, though she suspected it was for as his benefit just as much as hers. But enough time had passed, and she didn't want to avoid anything when it came to him.

She'd proven that just thirty minutes ago.

"Unfortunately, I missed her at pick up this afternoon- despite the messages I left."

He handed her a glass and took a seat on the edge of the bed while she greedily gulped it down.

"I called three times, and she has yet to respond," he said, and paused halfway to bringing the water to his lips. "Though considering how we left things, it is not entirely unexpected."

Seeing how much this daunted him, she felt guilty for troubling him with it. But she knew he would have wanted her to.

She began rubbing his back supportively.

"I hope she does, for Rin's sake. You're her daughter's principal; she can't avoid you forever."

He sighed, placing his empty glass next to hers. "You are right, of course, but the wounds are still fresh." At her insistence, he stretched out beside her on the bed, pulling her close as she happily nuzzled into the embrace.

"Regardless, if need be, I shall pay her a visit. Though I hope it does not come to that."

"Me too." She smiled deviously, sliding her body over his. "But I have to say; it's really sexy how you go above and beyond for your students."

Mischief returned to his eyes, staring back at her through sodden, silver bangs. She gyrated, hands smoothing over the planes of his broad chest as he arrested her arms in his grip.

"Let us not forget all I do for the teachers," he rumbled, craning forward.

Before their lips met, she pushed him back.

"I hope I'm the only one getting such special attention."

"Of course," he said, and leaned towards her again. This time, he landed a kiss.

When she pulled away after only a quick moment, he was not discouraged, affirming his hold and busying himself at the hollow of her throat.

"Hm, I don't know," she grinned. "I see you talking to Kaede an awful lot in the lounge..."

A muffled noise vibrated against her, making the hands at his shoulders clutch tightly.

"Merely a decoy," he removed his lips long enough to say, "to divert from the tawdry affair I am having with the pretty, young new hire."

She giggled as he returned to kissing her neck, but they became breathier as he grew more assertive.

"So scandalous," she gasped. "I'm starting to think you didn't hire me on account of my exemplary credentials."

"Of course, I did," he said, dragging his mouth over salty, heated skin. "Though I must admit, that was not the reason I insisted on taking you to lunch on your first day."

She feigned incredulity, forcing him onto his back.

"You mean, you don't take all the new teachers to the nicest restaurant in town to welcome them aboard?"

"No." He kissed her again. "Nor do I invite them to my personal residence for celebratory drinks, offer to help them move into their new apartment or... any of the numerous events that took place afterward."

She rested her full weight atop him, batting innocent blue eyes in his face once again.

"Except Kaede," she asserted.

She shrieked when he flipped them effortlessly, a mixture of giggles and screams as he pinned her beneath his body and let her punishment finally commence.

They continued long into the night, along with a myriad of other noises that made him glad he got her hydrated.

TBC

***

A/N: That's SessKag Week! I wish I could have given you guys (and myself) closure on all these stories, but I'm actually pretty syked I managed to post everyday. I couldn't quite make it last year, and I did not think I'd have more than 3 days to contribute when the week began. I was literally writing until the moment I posted on these, so it was pretty exciting! I learned a lot about what I can get done if I really push, and don't worry about perfection (or whatever my version of that is lol) So, I have this story and Greener Pastures to finish, along with another installment to Transparent (Opaque). Which would you like to see first? I'll see what i can do.

And for those of you screaming WTF? FINISH RENDEZVOUS ALREADY! or UPDATE VICE; don't worry! I did not abandon them. I was just trying to get through this week, and then I swear I will get back to those. Sometimes space from a story makes it better, and i think you're gonna be glad i let it settle.

Thanks for reading! I have a ton to catch up on.

Oh yeah, and Feudal Connection is having their Inuyasha awards rn on Tumblr. So you can go vote for the fics and art you like for a bit longer.

#skw2021 #sesskag #inuyasha #sesskag fanfic #skw2021d7

14 notes · View notes