#grumpiest of the grumps

[doodle-do-wop]

(I'll draw this later)

Team V:

Stina:

Team V:

Stina: IM NOT SAYING 'GREAT JOB TEAM' THIS MEETING WAS SHIT!!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Great Boopathon

Twilight

It had honestly been an accident, a truly sincere miscalculation. Sky tried to remember that Wolfie was Twilight. But sometimes, when the fluffy animal trotted into town, panting from exertion or cheer, Sky just immediately knelt in front of him with a sweet greeting and a gentle boop on the nose.

He didn't think it was possible for an animal to look so offended, but somehow Twilight managed it.

Sky

This was war.

Twilight huffed as he watched Sky sleep. The teenager was out cold, as per usual, curled into himself and covered in blankets. It was a little more unusual than his usual sleep position, in which literally anything was possible because he could fall asleep literally anywhere, but the boy's head cold had him shivering.

That didn't stop Twilight, though. He still remembered the boop. The completely humiliating and degrading gesture, the cute noise Sky made with it as he bapped Twilight's wolf nose gently with a smile on his face and a flush to his cheeks.

Sky moaned miserably, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Twilight swallowed, grabbing his resolve. He walked forward stealthily before laying on the ground, his canine nose stretching forward until it met Sky's own congested one. Then his tail swished back and forth, dusting leaves off the earth.

Sky scrunched his nose in response, tickled by the wetness of it, before he opened his eyes to see a snout. He yelped, trapped in his blankets, and Twilight pounced on him, bapping him with a paw and pinning him in place as he laughed and tried to fight.

Abel

"There's no way you can do it!"

Link glared defiantly in response. He would do this, and there was no stopping him. He would always rise to a challenge. He couldn't afford to fail, he couldn't afford to lose the faith of those who believed in him.

He was stealthier than he'd ever been in his entire life. He could pass for a Sheikah, he was certain. His heart pounded in his chest, anxiety trying but failing to whittle away at his resolve. His naysayer watched with bated breath.

The greatest challenge, of course, were the floorboards. There were some that creaked. It would be absolutely catastrophic if his foe heard his approach. Carefully, Link tried to remember which boards creaked the most, settling his bare feet with such care to distribute his weight properly.

When he finally reached the bed, he nearly failed in his mission. His enemy stirred, almost awakening, but he managed to avoid disaster. Finally, his objective in sight, the Hero of Hyrule leapt, landing on his prey with a mighty hyah.

Abel nearly jumped out of his skin as he was startled awake before getting slammed in the face with a pillow.

"I told you I could do it!" Link yelled at the stairway where his sister, Lyra, was hiding.

Daruk

The leader of the Gorons had many precious memories to make him smile when he was more contemplative in the evenings. Perhaps his favorite, though, was when the Champions met his child, who had been so delighted to meet them that he'd rolled over Revali's toes and crashed into Link's knees, knocking the Hylian over. It had been a fun day in general, but the little boop his boy had given him when he picked him up had been the most delightful part.

It was usually what Daruk would do for the child before bedtime; to have such a simple gesture reciprocated brought him more joy than he could ever articulate.

Shadow Link

He had nearly succeeded in getting away from the damn gloom hands, but his stamina had run out. When they'd caught up to him, he could practically sense the displeasure radiating off them, and his insides froze at the sight of them.

Then one of the hands leaned over and booped him on the nose, making him yelp, before the others grabbed him and teleported him through the gloom back to Ganondorf's location.

"Was that really necessary?" Link grumbled, holding his nose as if it had been burned.

"Yes," the demon king replied without hesitation as he snatched him by his tunic and plopped him beside him. "Now rest."

Mystery Link

Link wasn't sure how it happened, but being completely smothered by his dog was not how he wanted to start his mornings. Nevertheless, it was how Friend decided to be his new morning alarm, slapping his face with a paw as a warning before laying her whole head over him and asphyxiating him.

By the fifth morning, he started wrestling her in response, and she always got so excited about it that she would spend the next few minutes zooming all over the forest, tail tucked and legs flailing in all directions.

Wind

Twilight was acting weird.

Wind was a little worried. After all, he'd only just recovered from his injury recently. Although the sailor had the utmost faith in the elder Hero's abilities, he couldn't help but watch him and see what was up. This was a matter of great importance, and only Wind could truly understand as the others seemed completely oblivious.

He made several observations while the others were pointlessly distracted. Twilight's eyes were wary, looking everywhere as if he were expecting an attack. Wind knew for certain that the rancher hadn't been patrolling because Time and Wild wouldn't allow for it quite yet. But no one else was on edge. It was possible Twilight just felt inadequate or useless, as he was typically the one who tried to shoulder a great deal of responsibility.

Wind moved closer to his dear friend, curious. He was going to ask him outright if he kept this behavior up, but--

Twilight gasped, grabbing Wind around the ribs and holding him like a shield in front of his body, and Wind yelped as Sky poked his nose.

"Hey!" Sky snapped. "No cheating!"

"There are no rules in this war!" Twilight huffed back. Then he gave Wind a squeeze against his torso as a compensatory hug. "Sorry about that, little pirate."

"Ha! Sorry? Let me go, I'll avenge you!" Wind happily offered, already wiggling out of his grip as Sky fled.

Time

"This is getting out of hand," Time said severely, hands on his hips. "And is unbefitting of a Hero."

Twilight looked extremely schooled. If he were in his wolf form, he probably would have his tail between his legs, ears peeled back. Time did not feel guilty in the slightest about it. The camp was in utter disarray, supplies strewn everywhere as Twi's wolf form had utterly destroyed the place and barreled over most of the heroes while he'd tried to escape Sky's little winged mechanical booping machine and Wind's exuberant screams.

Unlike Twilight, Sky looked nearly indifferent, but somehow he managed to convert his expression to apologetic when Time glared at him. Wind, however, was unrepentant.

And giggling.

Time was going to lecture him further when the reason for Wind's laughter dropped out of the nearest tree, landing on Time's shoulders and booping him on the nose.

Sky and Wind cheered as Wild scrambled off Time and fled into the forest, giggling all the way.

[hybridkilljoys]

Now some moots

[rememberingnoah]

wait wait wait guys that punk au but it's just everyone else is goth/scene/emo/punk/whatever except for marcus. he's the only one thats super preppy

[orestesimp]

me, so far up that moon knight guy’s ass that i was ready to throw hands

Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous issue] [TBC]

You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer. 

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire. 

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood". 

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time. 

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book. 

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait. 

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies. 

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman. 

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter. 

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it. 

This note didn’t work. 

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry… 

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you! 

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook. 

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot. 

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you. 

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note. 

It doesn’t look like he came. 

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen. 

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video! 

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews. 

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had. 

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression. 

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!  

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around. 

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go. 

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly. 

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through. 

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow. 

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill. 

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now. 

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek? 

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why. 

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen. 

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness. 

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it. 

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast. 

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth. 

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do. 

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail. 

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest. 

You want to see him again. 

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people. 

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail. 

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by. 

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (4)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope, John Walker bashing

How to cure a grump (3)

How to cure a grump masterlist

“That audacity,” Bucky angrily mutters. “How dare he talk to you! He should be ashamed of himself and his actions!”

You blink a few times. What happened not minutes ago was mind-boggling. Your former boss, the grumpiest person you ever met, kissed you to save you from embarrassment.

“Why?” You whisper so no one but Bucky can hear you question his intentions. His help surely comes with a price. “What do you want?”

“What?” He furrows his brows, still lost in thoughts, as he watches John and his fiancé walk past your mother.

Your former boyfriend greets your mom, earning an angry look and no response. If it was up to her, he’d lie on the ground bleeding, and his teeth missing.

“We should get the things your mother wanted you to get. Give me the list,” Bucky says. He snatches the list out of your hands as you stand there, frozen to the spot. “You can pay the stuff here, and I’ll get the rest.”

Bucky walks out of the store, nodding at your mother as he hurriedly makes his way toward the next store.

Almost done with your mother’s list, Bucky walks toward the last store. He carries around the paper bags filled with more things your mother needed for dinner.

“It’s you again,” John smirks as Bucky wants to pass him by. It was already a long day. He’s cold and tired. Not to forget, he kissed his former employee and liked it. “I didn’t think she’d find a new guy anytime soon. Not after she lost me.”

John Walker hates losing. Watching Bucky kiss you in public, in front of people knowing him, and you made John furious. He doesn’t care that he ended your relationship and cheated on you. John Walker is the kind of guy wanting to eat his cake and keep it.

“What do you mean, with a guy like you?” Bucky dips his head. “The kind of guy promised a woman marriage and a future only to cheat on her with a cheap imitation?”

John’s face contorts in anger. “A good catch like me. Business owner, house owner, a stallion in the bed.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Usually, when guys tell you they are good in bed, they are quick shots and can’t satisfy a woman.”

“Say,” John leans closer to look Bucky up and down, “does she still only want to fuck with the lights out? She’s a frigid little thing, isn’t she.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. It takes anything in him to not throw the paper bags at John.  He won’t throw punches but fight dirty. “Not with me,” Bucky says, smirking. “I can understand she only wanted to have sex with you in the dark. With a face like yours in front of her, she must’ve been unwell all the damn time…”

John gapes at your former boss, who holds his gaze, still smirking. Without another word, Bucky walks past John, hearing people laugh about John who throws a tantrum like a toddler, calling Bucky names.

“He did what?” The moment you came back home, the phone wouldn’t start ringing. Your aunt was first to call to tell you what Bucky said to John. It didn’t change your mind about your former boss but made you chuckle.

Next was your neighbor across the street. They watched with amusement when John was taken down a peg by your former boss.

Six calls later, you are snorting because it’s John’s fiancée, asking you to tell Bucky to apologize to John. “Yeah, not going to happen, darling. If you’d excuse me now, we are in the middle of our Christmas preparations.”

You ended the call before she could say another word.

“Who was it this time?” Your mother chuckles as you try not to laugh. Of course, she enjoyed every call. Bucky fought fire with fire, and she likes him even better because of it. “Come on, Munchkin. Tell me who it was.”

“John’s fiancée,” you snort. “She wanted James to apologize to John for calling him a quick shot and that he’s got an ugly face.”

She shrugs and says, “What is true, has to remain true. James was right, and people love him for it. Mrs. Applebaum from the end of the street even clapped her hands. You must love James.”

“Mom,” you sigh, deep and exasperated. How can you reveal now that your mother likes your former boss so much, that you hate him? “Please don’t tell him that you love him.”

“Who loves who?” Bucky casually walks inside the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. He enjoyed that you got flustered around him on the trip back to your mother’s house. “I parked the car.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” your mother coos and winks at Bucky. “I know it’s a bummer they didn’t have a free room for you, but you can stay here for Christmas. We have more than enough space and food. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you say, even though, you feel like this is a conspiracy between your mother and your former boss. “Uh—I’ll check on the heating and if we got enough wood for the fireplace.

“Munchkin,” your mother says, “why don’t you show James around the house? He hasn’t seen much of it.”

You give up and simply nod. Whatever you say would only hurt your mother’s feelings. If you must, you’ll play pretend over Christmas. You can always tell her that you and Bucky split up. The last thing you want is to ruin Christmas for your mom.

“Alright, show me around Y/N,” Bucky smirks at you. He’s enjoying this too much for your liking. “I can hardly wait to see every nook at your home.”

You grit your teeth but say nothing. Every word would only make your mother suspicious or cause a fight between you and your former boss.

So, you bite your tongue and politely ask him to follow you, murder in your eyes.

“Your mom is very nice,” he says while walking next to you. “What do you want to show me first?”

You walk upstairs, guiding Bucky away from your mother. You’re seething and can’t hold back any longer.

Grabbing him by his jacket, you push Bucky against the wall next to your room. “What kind of game are you playing?” You accuse. “I know you’re having a blast lying to my mom, but if you dare to make fun of her home, I’ll castrate you.”

“Whoa,” he yelps when you slam your fist into the wall beside his head. “When I said your mom is nice, I meant it. She invited me in and let me stay at her home for free. I’d never make fun of her or her home.”

“Good.” You step away from Bucky, exhaling deeply to calm down. “Listen, this is an odd situation. If you want to stay here for Christmas, it’s fine by me. I owe you for John and…you know.”

Bucky doesn’t mention the kiss, and you're thankful for it. “How about you show me the rest of the house, and we discuss how we keep on pretending to be in love…”

How to cure a grump (5)

Tags in reblog.

[megsdoodletag]

Dorn: -this is a TTS!Dorn household ok -I do like the inuit dorn hcs that have been floating around tho!

Perturabo: -grumpiest grumpster to ever grump -he's not mortarion, he showers, but he's always vaguely covered in oil or metal grime in some way

[yutxsgf]

I deeply love to imagine Bakugou as the grumpiest person walking on the earth when he grows up and pursues his heroic dream. But every grump needs his sunshine gf that's terrible at something.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

"It's done!"

An ash-blonde tuft of hair peeked out from the kitchen doorframe before moving out from behind the wall with his softened scowl.

You glanced over your shoulder behind you at the tall male, smiling softly as you beamed him a loving gaze.

"Gonna pass me one or keep smilin' at me?"

He crossed his arms, a faint smile making its way on his lips before he began striding towards your bent figure as you took your homemade cookies out of the oven.

"Can't I do both?" You hummed before hissing when you accidentally touched the hot pan with your non-mittened hand.

His eyes barely widened before he quickly made his way over to you, looming over you as he stood behind you with your wrist in his overly large hand. "Idiot." He mumbled before rubbing your hand with his calloused fingers.

You huffed, rolling your eyes before pointing down at the cookies on the pan.

You were pretty adamant on learning how to bake. Why? Because you were absolutely ass at it. But that never stopped Bakugou from encouraging you and supporting each and every one of your pastries. But of course, since you weren't the best at baking, you can only guess how they'd come out.

"They look great, honey." He mumbled, kissing your cheek before taking a dark obsidian black, supposedly chocolate chip cookie.

You smiled brightly at your boyfriend as he took a hearty bite out of your cookie, your happiness never deterring as he kept a straight face.

That was all that mattered.

"So.. how are they..?" You whispered, turning around to face him as you craned your neck up.

He hummed in thought before throwing the rest of the cookie in his mouth and sticking his thumb up with approval.

He swallowed, clearing his throat before pointing behind you at the cookies, "Gonna give 'em to the group, that okay?"

"Of course!" You smiled, "Can I come? I wanna see their reactions and take some tips."

"'Course baby, go get dressed." And with a light tap on your behind, you were off to your shared bedroom with a small skip in your step.

"What are those." Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, pointing a slim finger at the cookies in a small zip lock baggy.

"My cookies." You replied before Bakugou could, glancing up at the charcoal in your boyfriend's hands.

The group froze before simultaneously nodding together. You took nothing of it, but Bakugou did as he sent a deathly glare to each of them.

"Go on, pick one." Bakugou grumbled, keeping his stone cold glare as he carefully opened the bag and spread it large enough for their hands to fit through.

Sero and Kaminari gulped, clearing their throat before reluctantly taking the so-called cookie from the baggy. Ashido, Kirishima, and Jirou following soon after.

"Hey, babe, can you go get us some water over there?" Bakugou asked quietly, pointing to the water dispenser near the corner of his unnecessarily large office.

You happily obligated, nodding before shuffling over to the dispenser with your fluffy winter boots.

"One negative thing, 'n I'm slitting all of your goddamn throats."

"Yes, sir." Kaminari and Sero saluted foolishly as the rest froze, seemingly lost in thought as they stared at your cookie. wondering how in the world did it get that bad.

You quickly came back with both arms full of plastic cups filled with water. Bakugou was quick to set the cookies down on his desk and grab all the waters from your grasp.

When you smiled expectedly at them, they all glanced at each other before sighing and taking a reluctantly large bite.

"They're– They're um.." "They're awesome!" Kirishima finished for Kaminari, nudging his arm behind their bodies before gulping down his bite.

You happily squealed, jumping up and down before hugging your boyfriend at his neck.

And then, he smiled.

"Say a thing, and I'll kill you."

[pinkomcranger]

I SAID THE SECOND I SAW THIS THAT THE ANDERSONS OWN A CAT THAT THEY'VE HAD SINCE LOGAN WAS LITTLE SO NOW IT'S A GRUMPY OLD CAT THAT LOVES LOGAN AND CASEY THE BEST @hearts-are-connected

[ID: Image from Alan Wake 2 of a drawing by Logan Anderson. Her name is capitalized in a corner. The drawing depicts Saga driving away in an FBI vehicle with smoky exhaust clouds, while David and Logan hold hands in front of the house with neutral expressions. A striped cat stands next to Logan. Two trees are next to the house. End ID.]

I know this is from Watery Logan’s room, but I’m choosing to believe Alan didn’t just make up a pet cat. Adding Saga to the list of Remedy characters who love cats

[fieldsofwriting]

A Day in the Life with March!

Summary: What a typical day looks like with the world’s grumpiest guy looks like.

Warnings: None!

Based off this request!

Life on the Farm was peaceful. Hardwork for sure, but peaceful nonetheless. Being your own boss certainly had its perks. The ability to change up your days and to run around to get things for people in need. It all made for very satisfying work. But the most satisfying thing about being able to run around the beautiful town of Mistria, was seeing the beautiful blacksmith every morning. As you rushed along, you made it a point to stop at the forge. Smiling as Orlic sees to notice you first, “Heya Y/N! How are you?” He asks, ever chipper even for a brisk Spring morning.

“Not to bad.” You reply, giving him an easy smile. “You?”

Orlic sighs dramatically, “Y/n you would not believe how much complaining i’ve heard from just March today!” He frowns, leaning over to you as he whispers. “We got another nail order.”

“Ah.” If there was one thing that March hated making more than anything it was nails. He was happy to help Mistria how ever it needed but did they really need so many damn nails?! But both you and Orlic knew the cure to this grumpy mood. You. Since you and March had become official- it didn’t stop him from being a grump. But you could still get him to relax more than others. Stepping over to the Anvil where March was begrudgingly hammering away, you clear your throat. “Marchy…” You hum.

His frown deepens, “Don’t call me that.” He grumbles, “And go away i’m busy.”

Sighing, you gently put a hand on his forearm. “March.” You frown, watching as the grumpy demeanor starts to fade. As he looks over at you it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to talk about the nails right now. “I’ll see you later right? At the Inn tonight for dinner?”

He gives you a fraction of a smile. “Yeah. I’ll be there.” And you nod back, reaching up to kiss his cheek. His face starting to bloom red, but despite his shyness he leans over and kisses your cheek back.

“Don’t have too much fun working on the nails, okay?” You teases before March scoffs and waves you away.

———

And a few short hours later, you’re sitting in the Inn. Across from your boyfriend with a big smile as you start to recount your day telling him about everything that’s happened and how much you’ve sold or donated to the museum. “Wow, sounds like you had quiet the day.” He mumbles as he eats his soup.

“Yeah! It was packed full.” You grin, “What about you?”

He sighs, “I worked on that stupid nail order all day. When what I really wanted to do was figure out how to make that belt buckle Dell was talking about.” He grumbles, “All I ever do is make stuff for the town…before the earthquake I could make cool metal pieces…” He sighs longingly. Reaching over the table you take his hand and offer a gentle smile.

“And one day soon, we’ll get there again. I’m working hard on getting our town rank up so we can afford the capitals prices for nails and you can get back to making pretty things- like a ring. For me.” You wink.

March’s eyes widen, “A-a ring?” He stammers out. Not that he would mind marrying you- I mean you’re reliable, sweet, caring. You always made him smile even when he was mad about dumb stuff like nails. He could feel himself getting redder at the prospect of it all.

You nod quickly pulling out a sapphire you found today, “Yeah! Look at what I found today! I think it be cool to have it in a ring that I could wear around- or I could sell it..” You hum looking at the gem. March could scream at you for doing that to him. Looking so innocently at the gem like you didn’t just give him a heart attack.

Once March’s heartbeat stops racing he smiles and takes the gem from your hands. “I can make you the best sapphire ring you’ve ever seen.” He says confidently. He notes the way your eyes light up, and maybe it makes doing all the damn nails worth it.

“I’ll bring you the sliver for it!” You nod confidently. March sighs, shaking his head as he pockets the sapphire.

“Don’t worry about it, I think I owe you.” He says with a shrug. “For all you do around here.”

“March…” You flush looking away from him. “I don’t do as much as you or Ryis-“

“You literally have raised our town rank by like- four ranks since you’ve been here. You’ve donated half of the museum, your crops help fill the general store, and you opened back up the mines. Shut up you’ve done more than enough to earn this stupid ring.” He rolls his eyes, but as he compliments you there’s a blush growing more and more evident.

You giggle, walking around the other side of the table to kiss his cheek. “You’re too sweet to me, March.” His arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you into him.

“Whatever, shut up.” He grumbles as he pulls your bowl of soup over to his side of the table so you can continue to eat. “What are you doing later?”

You hum in thought before looking over at him. “Maybe some late night fishing? Or I bet the water would feel super nice tonight given how hot it’s been.”

He rests his head on your shoulder, wrapping both arms around your waist. “…we could go swimming.”

“Yeah?” You grin, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and playing with his hair. “And then we can go back to the farmhouse and watch a movie…?”

He blushes more, nodding. “..and…I could stay the night?” He asks quietly. You nod, tilting his head up to kiss him quickly.

“You could stay forever but whatever your heart wants.” You muse playfully.

He snorts and holds you tighter. “Hurry up and eat, we’ve got a date.” And so- you oblige happy to sit in your boyfriend’s lap until you’re finished eating.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!! I struggled a little on how exactly to write this without just making it my farmer so I hope it works well!!

[ivystoryweaver]

ehehe which moon boy do u think is the most ticklish 😆 i feel like its marc and he gets so wound up when you threaten him with a tickle lmao

Ooooh ok. I concur.

Marc Spector is Ticklish

Marc is definitely your grumpy eagle muppet.

He can get the grumps for like the tiniest reason. Like trying to use a can opener

Steven takes the cake - believe it or not - for foulest language. But Marc will make the grumpiest huffs and puffs around the kitchen or bathroom.

It doesn’t help that he’s a neat freak. One. Single. Coffee ground spills and there he goes: grumble grumble

So one day you sneak up behind him and trace your fingers lightly over his back, goosing his ribs.

He jumps a mile and laughs out.

The coffee spills and you’re sure he’s going to be affectionately pissed. (That’s what you call it when he doesn’t want to hear you use the word “grumpy” one more damn time.)

But he laughs.

You’re enchanted. You do it again and he jerks away.

”Stop it,” he huffs, shrugging you off. “That tickles.”

Your mouth drops open. “Babe…are you ticklish?”

“No.” He attempts his absolute grumpiest face, but you attack his soft tummy with your fingers.

He can fight you off if he really wants or needs to. But he’s laughing. The sound of it makes your heart soar.

The next time he’s at his absolute most serious, complaining about something Very Important™, you wiggle your fingers threateningly, inching closer.

”Don’t,” he attempts in his most stern voice, but the corner of his mouth is already curling. “No, baby, don’t.”

You always do.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc Spector-Centric stories

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[bruh-anator3000]

I think its very obvious I'm not a fast writer, but I do promise that I'm making a series out of this idea. To prove it and keep interest, here is a sample:

~~~

"Guys." You grit, whipping around. Finding the grumpiest man alive to be - wait for it - scowling. Whereas Wade smiles boyishly, adjusting the cow printed bucket hat you lent him. It was from an... interesting phase of your life.

His thumbs slide under the frog-themed overall straps, laying them neatly on the black tee underneath. "You sure these are good disguises? I mean, it's not eay to hide..." He pauses for a moment, muscles of his brows tensing. Pushing through the unsaid thought, he smirks again. "All this." He gestures down himself.

Logan sniffed, sharing a look. So much unsaid, yet you two learned the trade of Wade. With a low sigh, the grump stepped up, helping the merc with his hat.

"You look fine." He gruffs and tugs the edge of it over his eyes. A rare moment of a smile earned from Wade's whine.

"You're right. It's impossible to hide perfection." You add on with a calm shrug. "We'll just have to hope it can dim it down for a couple of hours."

A genuine smile crosses his face for a moment. Then the cocky I-eat-cock smile is back on. "I know, I must make you both so very hard."

Logan whacks him again.

Reaching into your purse, you fish out two metal disks. Little red lights glimmering invitingly - and Wade snatches one. Making you grumble a sigh.

"These are to help direct the detectors." Logan waited, unlike his counterpart, with folded arms. Watching you explain carefully, nodding once. "You have a metal hip." Your fingers shoved into his waistband.

"I have more than that." His frown lines deepened while he eyed you shimmy your hand down his pants. The cold of the thin disk attaching to the skin above his hip. Making his eyes narrow.

Turning to Wade, you found him trying to pull his overalls down.

"No." You took back your little disk, hiding it on his side. Right below his pectoral. "You get a metal rib."

"What?!" He fussed. "When will I feel your hand down MY pants?" You turn away as he pouts.

~~~

Please be patient and assured that I am working on it. I have a goal to get the prologue out by mid October. I hope you all still enjoy it <3

Taglist?

@laysmt

@bontensbabygirl

@czareena

@ghost-lantern

@aaliyahh444

@luckysimp

[pastafossa]

YOU NEED TO SEE THE REST, my car is a traveling carnival of geekdom! Some people love it but occasionally I get a, 'Lady you have too many stickers' but it makes me happy so I keep going. 😂

Fandoms repped so far: FFXIV, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Mass Effect (shoutout to that Paragon logo being 9 years old and still pristine), Daredevil, Doctor Who, Monty Python, Jurassic Park, Welcome to Night Vale, and the Mandalorian.

I'm just a girl

Driving down the road

Hoping to see a man sized moth

[earthtooz]

rin brain rot coming through bc i need to get this idea out there or else i might implode on myself

but like imagine rin getting all sulky bc reader won't give him get his goodnight kiss bc readers skincare hasn't fully soaked in yet so he's forced to wait like 15 minutes

and when reader is like half way asleep rin wakes them up asking for his gn kiss bc it's been 15 minutes 😭

and no he was not staring at the clock on the bedside table counting down the minutes. no he didn't. nope. (he absolutely did was counting down to the second)

CUTEST RIN BRAINROT EVER :((

rin being a creature of habit means that the slightest disruption to his normal routine causes the grumpiest rin to ever grump. this time, the disruption is you not giving him his goodnight kiss.

it’s a little action of affection that soothes him. he won’t feel calmed and ready to go to bed UNTIL the brush of your lips subliminally instruct him to.

he wakes up with a kiss then he sure will go to sleep with a kiss.

except you’re adamant, refusing to kiss him because it would ruin the shiny layers of skincare and the lip balm you just applied.

he grunts, leaning against the headboard of the bed with an upset pout. if it’s 15 minutes he needs to wait, then 15 minutes he will wait.

15 minutes later and you’re practically on the verge of sleep, and rin feels a twinge of guilt that settles in his gut before brushing it aside, concerns of disturbing your peace cast aside because you haven’t given him his.

placing a hand on the other side of your head, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your eyelids, then a chaste one to your lips. eyes fluttering open at the sensation, you’re greeted with the sight of rin’s displeased expression.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, “why aren’t you going to bed?”

“it’s your fault,” he grumbles as if it’s the most obvious thing. “give me my goodnight kiss.”

you comprehend his demand with a laugh and rin looks away shyly. regardless, you grab his face to make him look back at you to place a kiss on his lips, one that has him melting into you in seconds. with a giggle, you separate, and rin’s scowl has been replaced with an expression of glee.

“happy?”

“very.”

[kaminocasey]

Beauty and the Grump (Part 1)

Pairing: Roy x Reader

Summary: You run into one of the grumpiest men you've ever met and then when you think you don't ever have to see him again, boom. Life has a funny way of working out!

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Angst-ish? Drunk friends.

A/N: Everyone meet Roy from @highgroundanimations's Tukk Tales (Which we are all highly anticipating I'm sure and are patient as can be!) Jan has done something magnificent. He's given us new clones and therefore we must cherish them and hold them near and dear! Thank you, Jan for letting me write this! <3

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The cool nighttime Coruscant air hits you perfectly in the face as you exit 79s with your friends. It’s refreshing compared to the stale air inside, making your flushed cheeks finally cool down. It’s the first night you’ve had off in two weeks since you’d started your new med job with the GAR. You’d decided you were gonna let loose a little but ultimately decided the exhaustion in the morning wouldn’t be worth it. 

You’re now officially a medic of the Grand Army of the Republic. Wow… All that hard work finally paid off.

“Oh! Sorry!” You trip over your feet, bumping into someone as they round the corner of the bar. 

“Hey! Watch it!” The person yells, but still catches you anyway. 

You look up, and are met with hard brown eyes and firm arms around your frame, holding you up right. Your hands find hard muscled arms and you can’t help the flush that creeps its way back into your cheeks. 

“I’m really sorry.” You give him a sheepish, apologetic smile, admiring the way that the neon lighting casts a glow over his warm skin. 

“Drunk idiots… I swear.” He stands you up straight and pulls away, shaking his head at you.

Okay, wow… 

“I said I was sorry.” You tell him. “And I’m not drunk.” 

He stops and turns toward you, eyeing you up and down. “Right.” 

Your eyes widen with hurt. Normally, you try your best in not letting strangers hurt your feelings. But this man… this incredibly handsome man… who doesn’t even know you, seems to have you pegged as some ditsy drunk. Two things you’re not even remotely close to being… 

“Whatever…” You try to will your tears back, but his eyebrows furrow quickly, obviously noticing them. “I said I was sorry. Have a good night.”

You just hope that he doesn’t notice the slight quiver of your lip as you turn away to catch up with your friends who are indeed drunk. 

You wipe the tear that unfortunately escapes down your cheek and pull the sleeves of your jacket down over your hands, immediately appreciating the safe warm feeling after your embarrassing moment. Your friends didn’t even notice your run in with that jerk… or your absence. Oh well. The likeliness that you’ll see your friends again anytime soon is incredibly slim for the foreseeable future. 

The GAR is well known to keep you busy. You were told today that you’d be with Hill Company from here on out, starting early tomorrow morning. 

“I’m heading home.” You tell the girls. 

“Alright! Be safe out there! Thanks for coming out with us tonight!” Your friend, Lili tells you, hugging you.

“And definitely find yourself a cute clone boyfriend!” Your other friend, Teia giggles.

You roll your eyes as you hug her goodbye. “I’ll see you guys in a few months.” 

“Remember what I said!” Teia points at you as the cab door closes on her. 

She starts pointing past you with a big goofy grin on her face, but you don’t have time to ask her what she’s pointing at, because you hear a low cough, indicating someone is behind you. 

Turning around, you find the clone from earlier, the one you ran into. “Oh… you. Great. Come to berate me some more?”

“I… uh…” He looks visibly uncomfortable. 

“What?” You cross your arms, confused. 

“I just wanted to… apologize for my… rude behavior a moment ago.” He tells you, looking behind him. 

You lean slightly to your left, following his gaze and find two other clones, grinning wildly at their friend. When they see you, they quickly turn around, pretending to look elsewhere. The one with the wavy hair keeps subtly glancing at you and the man in front of you.

“Right…” You stand up straighter, ignoring his buddies. “Well, forgiven. Have a good night.” 

Starting to turn away, you hear his friends hollering at him to offer to buy you a drink, but you put your hand up, pausing him in his tracks. 

“I don’t drink. Have a good night.” You quickly glare at his friends and then get in your speeder, closing the door behind you. 

As you start the speeder up, you glance one last time at the man just standing there, staring at you with a slightly bewildered look on his face. He insulted you. There’s no reason to give him a chance, his friends were the ones forcing him to apologize. Why should you give him the time of day? 

You surprisingly wake up before your alarm. Probably from the sheer excitement you’re feeling. You’re shipping out, finally. Your whole life, you’d been stuck here on Coruscant. But now… you actually get to go somewhere. Be something. 

As you pull yourself out of bed, you start your caf pot and then hop in the shower. It’s good to enjoy it now, because you heard that the showers in the barracks weren’t as pleasant. So you let the water flow over you as you wash your hair and then your body, standing there for a few extra minutes. 

When you get out, you look at the chrono on the fresher wall and realize you’re running two minutes behind. 

“Kriff…” You groan as you quickly dry off and then your hair, throwing on your clothes as quickly as possible.

Good thing you double checked your pack last night. Everything is ready to go, and so are you.

The cab ride to base isn’t that long, thankfully. When you arrive, you quickly book it to your assigned gunship in the hangar, where they’re going through their checklist of soldiers, medics, and other staff. 

You can’t help but look up in awe at the gunship that’s taking you to the Star Destroyer above the atmosphere, which you’re even more excited for. You’d only ever seen them in photos or on the news.

You hear your name behind you and when you turn, you find your former trainer. A clone medic named Fin, carrying a crate of medical supplies. 

“Morning, Fin.” You smile. 

“How’d you sleep?” He smiles back.

“Like a baby.” You reply, picking up a crate and following him to the storage area.

“Good. That probably won’t happen again for a while. Get yourself a last good shower too?” He teases.

“Sure did.” You chuckle. 

You and Fin walk back down the ramp to grab the last two crates and you stop dead in your tracks, nearly dropping your crate when you look up and see the three clones from last night. 

“Captain.” Fin nods, his hands full. 

“Captain?” You ask, looking at the wavy haired clone with furrowed brows. 

“Captain Tukk, ma’am.” Tukk winks.

Oh great…

The rude one from last night finally looks up from his data pad and stops dead in his own tracks as he stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“This is Roy.” Tukk smirks, patting Roy on the back. “And Checklist.” 

“Alright.” You smile, politely and then continue taking the last crate to the storage area with Fin. 

What are the odds that the men from last night are a part of Hill Company? Of course that’s your luck. It doesn’t matter, though. You need to focus, be your usual chipper self and let last night roll off your back. 

“I take it you already met our captain?” Fin chuckles.

“Ummm… not in so many words.” You rub your neck as you find a seat. “I ran into Roy last night on my way out of 79s. Quite literally ran into him. He was less than… pleasant.”

Fin lets out a laugh. “That’s Roy for ya. Grumpy as can be. But don’t let it deter you from him. He’s got a heart of gold.” 

“Right.” You smile, then glance over at the open hatch as Tukk enters with Roy and Checklist behind him.

Roy doesn’t even so much as peek at you. Clearly he’s over last night as well. 

So why can’t you stop looking over at him?

When you exit the gunship into the hangar of the Star Destroyer, you nearly fall over. It’s so much bigger than you’d ever imagined. 

“You dropped your jaw onto the floor back there.” Fin teases, elbowing yours.

“Wow…” You grin.

“Let me show you the medbay. You’ll definitely need to have your jaw fixed after that.” He gestures for you to follow him. 

You start to walk down the ramp but not before nearly bumping into Roy again, of course.

“Oh, excuse me.” You smile up at him. 

He does a small, subtle double take and Tukk doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. You ignore the teasing looks and continue walking with Fin into the corridor and down to the medbay.

When the doors slide open, Fin is absolutely right. You drop your jaw to the point where you’re not sure if it’s going to reattach. It’s so big. 

“Just remember, the field isn’t this nice.” He leans against a desk, crossing his arms. 

“Right.” You nod.

“Hey Roy, what do you think of the new girl?” Checklist asks Roy as he starts taking his inventory. 

Roy looks over at Checklist as he holds a crate of weapons.

“Yeah, Roy. What do you think of the new girl?” Tukk teases the grumpy man in front of him. 

Roy glares at his brothers, completely irritated. Why do they have to be so nosy? He’s not really one to notice women. Not because he wasn’t attracted to them, but because he figures why waste his time? He’s busy, he’s tired, and he’s usually in need of a drink when he gets planetside.

“Don’t you have something to do?” Roy grumbles to his brothers, walking away.

But you… You’d not left his thoughts since the moment he saw you tear up at his rude comments. He’d felt like such an asshole when he saw your lip tremble. He’s not one to normally dwell on people’s feelings, but when Tukk told him to go and apologize, he didn’t take any coaxing to do it. He wanted to. And then today… when he saw you again… He nearly dropped his data pad. He thought to himself maybe he could finally right his wrong and truly apologize. But then you acted like nothing happened. You even smiled. It didn’t feel like a true smile but it still made his stomach do something it’d never done before. And he didn’t much like that.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

[multifandomnonsense]

Zolu

I love zolu. I was hoping someone would ask for it

Who wakes up first?

Zoro likes to get up and train in the morning so normally him. Sometimes Luffy will randomly decide to do something early though (this often involves dragging Zoro with him though)

Who is grumpiest in the morning?

Definitely Zoro. He’s normally grumpy. Luffy is rarely grumping and can normally make Zoro less grumpy

Who cooks breakfast?

They are both banned from the kitchen

Who serves the other breakfast in bed?

Luffy tried a few times and almost burned down the kitchen. He one time managed to make something kind of edible

Who suggests the skip work and stay home?

Luffy. When they try to skip their duties and just lay there cuddling Nami yells at them. In a modern AU Zoro would normally tell Luffy no but once of twice he absolutely just called in sick

Who falls asleep on top of the other?

They both do. Luffy likes to join Zoro’s naps on the deck. Normally Luffy is the one laying on Zoro

Who always has to be touching the other?

Luffy. He always has to be touching Zoro whether it’s hugs, holding his hand, sitting on him, or kisses. He’s very affectionate in general but even more so towards Zoro

Who stays up until 2 reading?

Neither. Honestly I doubt either can read

Who kisses their partner while they're sleeping?

Normally Zoro. When Luffy falls asleep on him he kisses his forehead softly as he looks down at his sleeping boyfriend

Who is most adventurous?

Luffy. He is always setting off on his latest adventure and Zoro will always be right by his side

Who is most protective?

Both of them are very protective. Like they know the other can handle themself in a fight but if they hear someone talk shit about the other they are throwing hands. Plus they are there the second the other does need help

Who cares too much?

They both care way too much about the other, but if you mean about things in general Zoro cares more. Luffy cares about his friends/family but other then that he’s very carefree

Who is most competitive?

They are both very competitive they just don’t normally compete with each other

Who sings in the shower?

On the rare occasion they actually fucking neither. Zoro doesn’t sing and Luffy is too mad about the water to sing

Who is more likely to get naughty in inappropriate places?

They normally don’t but probably Luffy because when he wants something he goes for it without regard for other people’s opinions and Zoro is included in that

Rate this ship: 10/10. I love zolu. The loyalty and undying devotion is so good. They really just get each other so well. Plus little things like how Zoro smiles the most around Luffy