#hi yes im somewhat alive

[michaelwatt]

yerlilbeau → michaelwatt

I've finally got internet at my house so I've returned with that impulsive url/username change taking over

Don't expect me to be on too terribly much tho. But I'mma try uploading some oc art on my art blog.

[foxhole-pipe-dream]

.

[galaxyacerodoesart]

Oh damn oh shit thats right tumblr still exists lmao-

Anyone alive out here?- /jjj

[stxrvel]

hate is a strong word

summary: you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 6k

warnings: some bad words, a lot of arguments, a HUGE flashback, a little bit of angst i think? bucky and reader insult each other, reader doesn't like to listen, bucky is easily angered, bucky likes to destroy things when he gets angry but regrets it easily, this is not exactly a healthy relationship(? descriptions of weapons, missiles and buildings being bombed, reader is also very stubborn and likes to put her life at risk… or so.

note: hi guys!! so i came back and i am kinda proud of this one. i think i haven't felt that way in a long time. i gave myself the time to write when i felt like it and it was wonderful, so this came out. also i put the poll for a whole week and i can't change it now >:(, but i think this onsehot fits the angst with a happy ending (im not sure if this fits the angst tho, you gotta tell me) but im gonna try to do something else that fits the vibe, and i'll probably do some other poll to write about someone else. (also i think i should warn you guys that i dont think im that good writing action scenes or tension scenes, so if that's bad i hope you forgive me): anyway, hope you guys like this one!! i love reading your comments so if you want and can, please leave some <33 love you all and see you next time!

part 2

Bucky was really pissing you off too much at that moment. Or maybe you were feeling a little uncomfortable.

He hadn't spoken a single word to you since you had arrived at that tiny house, only shrugged silently and then exploded. You had seen Bucky explode several times before and you admitted that watching him was somewhat entertaining; seeing the faces of frightened people, trying to flee away from his angry face and destructive hands, but physically forced to stand by and listen to his scolding. You used to have fun with that. However, at the time, when you were the extreme recipient of that anger, it wasn't so much fun.

You had already heard a couple of broken glass, shattered wood and metal containers fall to the ground. Maybe five minutes or so had passed and he was barely pausing to look at his artwork. It wasn't too much that he had taken and thrown while you had stayed in the room, but it had all sounded very loud, so you had no choice but to go out and see what he was doing.

You were leaning against the threshold of the hallway to the bedrooms, right across from the living room and kitchen. Bucky looked like he had just finished getting all his anger out when he finally stood silently. He probably thought you were asleep while he was doing all that, as if that sound couldn't wake you up. Was he really that angry about what you had done? You mean, yes, it was very risky, but there you were alive, weren't you?

You felt the best thing you could do was to stay quiet and wait for him to say or do something, because you could risk that angry outburst really coming down in your face. For that moment he had only taken it out on the house, which had nothing to do with your problems, and you didn't want the arguments to start filling the silence that followed his stillness.

But, well, you didn't always do the right thing. That's why you were in that situation in the first place.

“Are you done yet?” you signed your sentence.

Bucky had a tense posture, squared shoulders moving in rhythm with his accelerated breathing. His back was to you, staring at the kitchen counter that had been left completely empty. You knew by the way he was clasping his hands that he was trying to maintain his composure.

“Are you serious?” his voice came out hoarse, a sign of his growing anger.

Maybe you should have stopped there, or when he continued to not turn to look at you, but you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“What's your problem, Barnes? Yes, I took a chance, but it's not that big of a deal. It's not for this,” you pointed to the mess around you, even though he wasn't looking at you.

“It's not a big deal, you say?” Bucky moved and you felt yourself watching his angry figure move in slow motion. “What's your problem?”

His beady eyes met yours. You felt a little intimidated by the ripples of annoyance coming off his body, filling the entire room with an unbearable, suffocating tension. His scowl and that strangely calm tone of voice made your hair stand on end.

None of the pieces of glass or splintered wood on the floor looked as dangerous as that expression on Bucky's face. He looked very angry, yes, but there was also something in his eyes when he looked at you. Something like concern… but that was impossible.

“Really, Y/N, what's your problem? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Now, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I was the mission leader!” his voice rose, his body moving forward as he pointed his index finger at himself. “And you were supposed to follow my orders.”

“I did, Barnes, I-”

“No,” he exclaimed, again moving closer. “You didn't do anything I asked you to do! Why can't you just…? Argh.”

You moved back a little as he planted his hands on the dining room table. You felt a little pressure in your chest at the sight of him like this, as if defeated and hopeless. Disappointed. But that was a common thing. That's why you used to have individual missions, and that's why you didn't really like working in a team. You mean, it wasn't wrong to do it, but everything always ended up in arguments because nobody liked the way you worked, so it was better to do it alone, right?

Seeing Bucky like that reminded you of how many times you had seen that look on the faces of Steve, Natasha, Tony, Clint, even Thor… It was never welcome nor were you comfortable with what was coming next, but it was the way you worked, how could you change out of nowhere something you had done your whole life?

Maybe you just had to apologize, sometimes that worked. Because you also knew that, knowing how bossy and caring Bucky was, you should have at least held back a little during the mission. Bucky's patience couldn't stand that sort of thing.

“Listen, I'm sorry, okay? I was a little careless, but that's how-”

“A little careless?” he interrupted you, his voice and face incredulous. "You almost got yourself killed."

“We're in this job under that risk, Barnes, that's not news.”

The man in the middle of the mess ran his hands over his face, elated, frustrated and surely overwhelmed. He let out a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl before turning back to look at you.

“Why can't you just listen?”

His accusing gaze enlarged a hole in your chest that you constantly tried to ignore, planting bitter feelings of sadness that you were usually very good at avoiding. But at that moment, for some reason, you couldn't stop your face from twitching at the strong, hurt tone of the man who looked at you as if he couldn't believe who you are and what you do. It seemed like Bucky was always in denial and today he realized that what everyone always told him was true.

That look, that dull gleam in his eye, that expression of understanding… All of that you were used to seeing, but coming from him it felt different. As if you hadn't really meant to cause those feelings, as if you wanted to turn back time to do things differently. The surprisingly incredulous and remorseful look was digging deep into your head, searing itself with hot iron to make sure to haunt you in the future.

At that moment you didn't care if Bucky realized how much his words affected you. Maybe you deserved to feel that way. Maybe he should have known that it affected you too much, that would surely do more than an apology.

“If only you had listened to me, we would have left sooner and without any trouble,” Bucky spoke again after what felt like hours of silence.

You couldn't take him back. It was true.

“Why did you…? Argh. Whatever. I'm going to report to Fury.”

His figure passed you like a blur. You barely felt his presence very superficially before all was silent again.

Your heart ached again. For some reason, it wouldn't stop hurting that it was still beating.

The day before.

“WHAT?” you exclaimed in disbelief and the director's tired look reappeared.

“It's already scheduled, Y/N, I can't undo it. So just go, try to cooperate together and come back in one piece,” Fury leaned back against the back of the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

You looked at his shoes as if they were to blame for everything.

“It's funnier to think Bucky reacted the same way,” Tony spoke up, sitting in the chair next to yours, a mocking expression on his face.

“Shut up,” you smacked his arm before turning back to the director. “Sir, you know Barnes and I don't get along and knowing that, what makes you think we'll hit it off on a mission?”

Fury shrugged. “A hunch.”

“A hunch…?” you repeated in a low tone, twice as incredulous that the big SHIELD director had just said that.

“That's it, agent, you're dismissed.”

You left his office on your own, not because you had been dispatched. The walk to the housing complex took you longer than ever at that point.

You'd only had one mission with Bucky Barnes once a couple of years ago and it had been a disaster. Your group missions usually ended with a close call, but that time with Bucky it was like going to hell and back.

You two had never gotten along. Regardless of Fury's hundreds of attempts to get along, you had never managed to vibrate on the same frequency. It seemed more like you repelled each other every time you were together, and it was totally justified because Bucky was too bossy and wouldn't let you breathe for a single second. Every second of the mission had to be ruled by him because otherwise he was going to explode into a sea of rage and, God, no one wanted to piss Bucky off in that Complex. However, you were always the first to tell him that his tactics weren't working or that he was too slow and well, naturally, you ended up arguing.

You met Natasha and Steve halfway to the rooms and from the way they both looked at each other before the redhead approached you knew you must surely have a scrunched up face.

“Did something happen?” Natasha asked as soon as she reached your side and started walking at the same pace as you, slightly more hurried than usual.

“Fury assigned me a mission with Barnes,” you spat out the good news, impossibly frowning harder at the mention of that name.

“Oh,” Natasha nodded. “Well, you could try to work things out-”

“What things, Natasha?” you paused, turning to look at her as everything around you turned red. “There's nothing to fix here, because Barnes is a stubborn, obstinate, childish, bossy, stupid man who is incapable of speaking like a civilized adult and only knows how to shout orders everywhere as if he's the bossy one in the Complex. I can't stand him!”

“Wow.”

You heard his voice.

“I hope you know the feeling is reciprocated.”

You turned to see him, his body was leaning against the island at the entrance to the kitchen, in a strategic spot as if you could never realize he was there because your path was to the other side. Natasha watched between the two of you like a tennis match, fearful as if at any moment the screaming would start and she would have to run away.

You didn't know what to do. You were super angry, yes, and you felt your blood boiling inside your veins, too. And you'd said all that stuff to Bucky's face before, and God knows how many times before you'd argued just by seeing each other in the halls of the Complex. Despite that, you felt trapped. The anger was still there, yes, but his gaze pierced through you like a sword.

“Believe me, I don't want to go on this mission with a stubborn, obstinate, headstrong, ignorant, individualist like you either, who cares not for the safety of the team but for her own victory, no matter how she achieves it.”

With his eyes sharp, his heavy footsteps approached you, echoing in your head loudly like the second hand of a clock. He had stopped at a safe distance as he spoke and at one point Natasha had grabbed your arm when it seemed you had tried to approach him as well.

“You're a hypocrite,” you spat at him.

“Ha! Me?”

“You always play the saintly dove, but you know you're not much different from me.”

“I'm nothing like you,” Bucky wrinkled his face, as if the very thought caused him to shiver with disgust.

“You're an individualist, too, imposing your plans on others.”

“You never have a plan! What do you expect me to do, let you go and die?”

“I do have plans! But you don't like them because they are more effective than yours.”

“They're more effective at the cost of risking more of our lives.”

“That's what our job is all about!”

“Our job is about protecting! How are you going to accomplish a mission if you're dead?”

“Well, I've done pretty well so far, in case you haven't noticed.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you've gone airhead straight into danger and ended up nowhere near dead, I'd have as much money as Stark.”

“And if I had a nickel for every time your stupid, slow plans have caused you to lose sight of the target and made you come back empty-handed, I'd be twice as rich as Stark.”

“At least my kill rate is minus five.”

“And my hit rate is one hundred by the way.”

“Are you even listening to what you're saying?”

“That I always finish missions on the first try, unlike you?”

“That you're treating your life like it's something insignificant.”

“Ah, now you care about my life?”

Natasha tightened her hand around your forearm again preventing you from again getting too close to the man who was getting on your nerves. Before he could respond, you spoke again:

“Look, Barnes, to make it absolutely clear to you for the rest of your long life: I love my life and I love my job. I love my life because it allows me to have this job and I love my job because it allows me to have this life. If you have a problem with how I choose to do the job, that's just that, your problem. But don't think you're coming here to give me a psychology lesson to make me believe that I don't value my life just because now you've run out of arguments. It's because I value my life, Barnes, that I always come out of every mission unscathed. I don't put myself at risk because I'm oblivious. I always have everything figured out and that's why everything always works out for me.”

Bucky snorted, his body moving away from yours, but despite that expression on his face he didn't respond again. He gave you a sidelong glance before walking back into the kitchen.

Your shoulders felt a little lighter. For a moment you thought he was going to continue arguing.

Natasha next to you sighed, finally letting go of your forearm.

“Why did you hold me so tight?” you frowned at her, rubbing the part of your skin that was slightly red. “Did you really think I was going to fight a super soldier?”

Natasha shrugged under your gaze.

“We've known you to do crazy things.”

“I wouldn't have stood a chance of beating him even if he gave me the upper hand.”

Five hours earlier.

You hadn't seen Bucky for the rest of the day after that discussion, until the next day when you had to get on the Quinjet and didn't even glance at each other.

Steve was in charge of handling the airplane and, apparently, he was also in charge of briefing you on how you were going to proceed on the mission, because Bucky was too busy drilling holes with his gaze somewhere else on the Quinjet away from the two of you.

Neither spoke when you descended nor when you approached the base apparently in a state of abandonment.

Bucky's mission were flat and simple, but as usual he had no backup plan, because all his backup plans were the same: run away. Bucky had a chick's sense of survival, that's why when things went bad was the time when he would scream at you the loudest.

Just like it happened on that mission.

“This place is deadly quiet,” you spoke for the first time, barely earning a sidelong glance from the man next to you.

You had already finished thermo-sensor checking every floor of the building and it was indeed desolate. Still, you felt a strange uncomfortable chill run down your back.

“Well, that's what deserted means,” Bucky commented, his sarcasm sharp.

You rolled your eyes at him, even if he couldn't see you, and kept walking with your gun raised as you approached the checkpoint.

“I mean I can't even hear birds or crickets, doesn't that strike you as odd?”

“Well, we're on the fourth floor, wouldn't it make it stranger if you could hear them at this altitude?”

“Well, you can hear at this height. Tell me, do you hear anything down below?”

Bucky paused. They were a few steps away from reaching the room. His deadly stare caused you nothing but boredom and you would have ignored him completely except that he let out a sigh, dejected. You detailed him minutely as he seemed to focus his hearing on external sounds.

“There's nothing,” he spoke after a few seconds, his brow slightly furrowed.

“You see?”

“But that doesn't mean anything. We'd better finish this quickly.”

Ignoring the grimace on your face, Bucky moved to step into the room whose door was wide open. You stared offended at his back and felt the urge to smack his big head with the butt of your gun.

“Here it is,” you heard him exclaim from inside.

Sighing you made your way to where he stood. A large display of old computers anchored to the wall.

“You should do it yourself,” you looked at Bucky with a smirk. “I don't handle equipment this old.”

Bucky only snorted in response and moved with his gun to another side of the room, leaving you in complete silence to do your job.

You moved quietly and sat down in front of the machines. You plugged them into the power source you brought in your suitcase and in a few minutes they began to work.

The mission was simple. There was one of the old HYDRA bases that contained specific information that Fury needed to find. Up to that point, they had searched about seven abandoned bases without any success. So there you were with Bucky, at the eighth base they had identified, digging through old commands and in another language trying to find the information they needed.

Ever since they left the Complex that morning you were convinced you would find nothing. They had already raided several bases and there were still a few more to go. The probability that you would find that information at that time was…

Bingo.

“Got it,” you exclaimed to Bucky.

You heard his hurried footsteps and then felt the warmth of his body next to you.

“Is that it?”

“Just a folder.”

“And why does it load so slowly?”

“It's an old computer, Bucky, it works at its own pace.”

Bucky gave you a sidelong glance. “Wish you understood me like you understand that thing.”

“Aish,” you pouted by way of mockery. “Jealous, Barnes?”

The aforementioned just snorted.

The load was running at forty percent and truth be told, yes, it was too slow. But you could do nothing but wait, there was no way to speed it up.

Bucky paced back and forth behind you and you just watched the green lines move as if that helped at all. But, well, what else could you do?

At one point, as the charge was about to reach eighty percent, you heard interference on your communicators.

“Argh,” you shook your head and raised your hand to move the device a little away until the sound died down. “Steve?”

There was no response.

You turned to look at Bucky, who had the same quizzical expression.

The interference returned and then you heard Steve's voice distorted.

“… of… moment!”

“What the fuck is he saying?”

Bucky remained silent, tapping the device on his ear as if that would fix it.

But you saw it before you heard Steve's voice again.

A clump of people through the window. A freshly loaded cannon.

“Barnes…”

And at that moment, Steve's voice filled them with clarity.

“It's an ambush! Get out of there now!”

The quickness of the impact didn't let you process what was happening. Less than a second after hearing Steve the ground shook beneath your feet. The cracks in the floor started small and then swallowed you apart.

You held onto a beam, barely lucid enough. You propelled yourself upward, swinging your forearms over the patch of ground that was still intact. You heard Bucky's grunts in the distance. He was surely all right.

You heard him call out to you too, but as soon as you could sit down on the ground, the first thing you did was to reach for the pendrive.

Your heart was pounding, so hard it might as well have flown out on its own. Your breathing accelerated, with adrenaline rushing through your body was the only thing you could feel. At that moment you felt capable of anything.

You stood up quickly to look out the window again. The people were gone and the cannon had been destroyed.

It was at that moment that you realized that Steve was still talking on the communicator.

“I'm fine,” you replied, after being able to decipher his words amidst the constant buzzing from the sound of the explosion and the dizziness you felt at the sight of the hole next to you.

“Okay, you're both fine,” the Captain spoke again.

“Y/N, you can get down from there and get to the floor below. I'll catch you.”

At the sound of Bucky's voice, you moved away from the window.

Bucky had landed on the floor below, and yes, from where you were you could jump up and you'd probably have nothing but a cramp.

“How's it going up there?”

“Well, the shields are holding up okay, but I've got poor vision. I think they're regrouping somewhere else.”

You looked around.

Most of the floor had swallowed up the computers, but the main one was still loading the document. You could see the green from where you were. It was at ninety-seven percent.

But it was dangerous to get too close. The pendrive was dangling from the main computer which was about to succumb to the cracked floor.

There was some concrete left in front of the computers that you could walk across, so, without a second thought, you mapped out a mental guidance plan and moved forward.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I'm getting the pendrive.”

“What? Are you insane? That side of the floor isn't going to support your weight!”

“Yes it will. I know how to do it.”

You started walking all over the remaining edge of the floor in front of what was left of the computers. Small pieces would break off as you passed causing Bucky to hiss.

“Y/N, you'd better stop and get down right now. There's still a risk of them firing again.”

“I'm gonna get it, Barnes.”

“Y/N! Get down, now!”

Ignoring his command, you held onto the remaining wall in front of you as you continued on your way, almost reaching where the pendrive was, about to fall into the abyss.

Ninety-eight percent.

“Y/N!”

“Fucking hell, Barnes, will you shut the fuck up? Your yelling is breaking my concentration.”

“You want me to just stay quiet while you walk to your certain death?”

“I'm not going to dieee- ahh-”

Your left foot, the one in front, wobbled as a piece of the floor came loose. You clung tightly to the wall as best you could, breathing deeply to calm your racing heart. Panicking at that moment wasn't going to do any good.

“God, I can't believe this,” you heard Bucky's voice, muttering to himself. “Now are you really going to get off?”

His voice sounded reprimanding, but agitated. In the midst of that mess, you wondered for a moment if he was really worried.

“I'm almost there.”

You heard him grunt in the distance.

You kept moving your feet in the direction of the main computer, this time more cautiously and more slowly. The floor all along that edge was too cracked, on the verge of falling. You were surprised it had lasted this long.

At that point, Bucky started talking to Steve, but you kept your full concentration on not falling. Maybe Bucky was right and you really didn't have any regard for your life, but…. No, no. You were very sure of what you were doing. You couldn't give up without trying everything. Maybe for Bucky it was too risky, but that was your life. And you knew you could do it.

Ninety-nine.

You had reached the critical point on the ground.

The voices of the two men were becoming too overwhelming, so you quickly took off your communicator and stuffed it in one of your tactical pants pockets.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Bucky exclaimed, a considerable distance away. He wasn't as far away as you thought.

“Your voices are distracting me!”

Good. You were close. Maybe from there you could reach it… if you stretched a little… a little more… a little- Whoop. Nope. You weren't that close. Another chunk of floor fell and with it everything around you shifted. The concrete was so unstable that it tilted further into the abyss after your not at all incredible maneuver.

You had to get even closer.

You had to use plan c.

But for that, the pendrive had to be one hundred percent charged and you weren't sure you could wait for that. Or well, you weren't sure the floor would hold. You had to be quick.

You heard Bucky behind you, but his words were carried away by the wind. You couldn't focus on him because that would be too distracting.

So, arriving at point x, you executed your plan as quickly as possible.

You ran. Even if the world was falling down, you ran. In the direction of the pendrive. The green number didn't change. You took a deep breath. You felt the sparks fly around you. The sound of the ground cracking was going to haunt you in several dreams.

You picked up the pendrive. You would have a few extra seconds as you leaned over and climbed over the computers to gain momentum.

The bing of the computer filled you with a rush of adrenaline.

One hundred percent.

You jumped. You held your breath for a second. Nerves built up in your throat. You felt like you were going to lose consciousness for a minute. Maybe you heard Bucky in the background, you weren't sure, but knowing him he was probably still scolding you.

In the midst of a deep exhalation…

Your feet hit the ground. You rolled. You moved quickly as you turned to see that the ground was still falling. You got up and ran.

You ran until you collided with a solid body. Bucky was shaking your shoulders.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he exclaimed, his face angry.

You could hear Steve's voice through his communicator because of how close he was.

“Shit.”

He grabbed your arm and you ran again.

Somehow, Bucky managed to get you out of the building as they bombed it again. You had a gunfight the moment you touched the cold snow.

You moved alongside Bucky like a symphony, aiming and firing with your gun until you managed to get away.

When you noticed that you kept going and kept running…

“Where's Steve?”

“If you had your fucking communicator on…”

Bucky grabbed your hand again to keep running.

You quickly reached a shack that looked abandoned and the man next to you wasted no time in letting go of you and running in the direction of what appeared to be a garage. There was a motorcycle.

You reached into your pocket only to realize that the communicator had been destroyed.

And Bucky looked too angry to want to talk.

“Get on.”

He drove all the way into town, but he didn't stop there.

You were on the road for at least about two hours. You had no idea where you were.

Somewhere along that trip, Bucky stopped in front of another abandoned shack and from there he pulled out a car. He set the bike on fire.

You went back on the road, for at least another hour.

Until you reached a small town and Bucky finally stopped in front of a house that didn't look so neglected.

“They destroyed the Quinjet's shields at missile point. Steve had to leave. We'll stay here until I can get through to Fury and we know what to do.”

His voice gave no room for retorts.

Present.

Well, yes, you were a bit reckless during missions, but so what? You got what you needed thanks to your incredible action plans and always came out unscathed. If you didn't do that during missions, how far behind would they be now in their knowledge against the enemy? They would probably be sitting ducks. Bucky didn't see that.

You two didn't talk for much of the afternoon and evening. You had spent it in the living room, trying to avoid the mess he had made to get something to eat and rest. You had perhaps slept for about three hours when you woke up and saw him sitting in one of the dining room chairs. The room looked cleaner than before.

Bucky sighed when he realized you had woken up.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Earlier when we arrived. And for all the mess,” he averted his gaze when you leaned on your forearm to get a better look at him.

“Don't you think it was the least you could do?” quizzical, you sat back on the couch.

“Weren't you the one who said I don't know how to talk like a civilized adult?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sometimes.”

“Well, now I want to. That's why I deeply apologize for reacting that way.”

You remained silent, not really knowing how to answer him. On the previous mission you'd had with Bucky, when the whole mess was over and you were quietly in the Quinjet taking it all in, Bucky had only said “you're fucking crazy” to you before exiting the aircraft. There was no scolding, at least not from him, no complaining, no yelling. Just that. And with that you stayed for a week because you never even saw him again.

Despite the number of times you had heard that, you couldn't see it that way. That was your job, that was what you did and you didn't dislike it. You had done it forever, it was basically your way of life and you had always done it excellently. You trained and practiced for situations like that, that's why you were part of SHIELD's risk management team for so long. You used to risk your life like that to save other people and it didn't bother you. Now you were still doing it, also to save people. There was no dark reason behind it. You were contributing to a common good and that was enough.

“I guess I haven't made things bearable for you either,” you admitted with a hint of remorse.

“No, never,” Bucky shook his head in agreement.

“I'm sorry I scared you,” the words slipped from your mouth. You wanted to say something else, but, well, that had to work.

Bucky let out a short laugh. His head jerked in sync, his shoulders loose as if he didn't have a care in the world. For a moment you felt like you were somewhere else; maybe in a living room, some alcoholic beverage in one of your hands as one of your favorite songs played softly in the background, and Bucky. Bucky sitting in front of you, just like that moment.

Wow. What the fuck was that?

“You apologize for my reaction, but not for what you did?” his sly grin was getting on your nerves. You preferred it when he wasn't trying to upset you at the point of smirks. You never thought that was a weapon he could use against you.

Feelings.

Ew.

No, I hate Bucky Barnes. This is unacceptable. Mind, get your shit together.

“Well, I tried to do that earlier and you didn't care. I don't know what you want from me, Barnes,” you turned your head away, nonchalantly playing with your hair to avoid seeing those light eyes again.

“You'd better leave it at that. I couldn't take that knack away from you if I tried for years,” the sigh that accompanied his words reminded you of something you'd thought of when you were in the building. His face still looked calm, but a little upset by the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Why do you care so much about that?” you asked him directly now that you had the chance.

You looked at him as he turned his head away, his eyes roaming over your face, confused.

“Are you asking me why I care about your life?”

Puzzled, you shrugged. His look almost made you think that was a weird thing to ask, but was it really? “Yes. Well…. You hate me.”

“What? I don't hate you,” Bucky shook his head, his face more contracted than before as if you'd said he had cat ears on his head. He looked almost offended.

And that was the really strange thing.

You mean, almost as long as you'd known Bucky your relationship had been based on fights and demeaning adjectives to each other. That he would say that made even less sense than you asking him why he cared so much about you. He had to be pulling your leg.

“What? But I hate you because you hate me,” you explained vaguely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. That was one way of putting it; that is to say, Bucky never gave any indication that he didn't hate you. Or well…

“I don't hate you,” Bucky shrugged, his nonchalant expression confusing you that much more. “You're just a little… insufferable sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “That's just a synonym for hating.”

“I don't hate you,” he repeated, this time turning to look you in the eye. For a moment you felt like your breath caught in your throat and you were going to choke. “I know we argue and say a lot of things to each other, but… hating is too strong a feeling.”

“Are you really serious?” you shook your head to get the extraneous thoughts out; that wasn't the time to make a discovery, to realize you had lived a lie.

“Yes. And just to make you more sure, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you outside the Complex,” Bucky blurted out, matter-of-factly.

Your head went blank.

“WHAT?”

Several seconds stunned.

Bucky barely cracked a smile at your dumbfounded expression. It sure looked like you'd actually seen cat ears grow on his head. The things he was now saying… they didn't make sense. “You dislike the idea that much?”

“Do you want to not say things so drastically different every moment? You're changing my perception of reality.”

Bucky kept his small smile and you had to swallow hard to ignore the warmth that settled in your chest. It wasn't welcome, not at that moment. The sound of that music in the living room in your head was getting louder, as if your own mind wanted to mock your surprise.

“Well, back to your question,” Bucky moved his hands nonchalantly over his lap and your eyes followed his movement unashamedly, “I don't see why I shouldn't care about your life. We are partners, after all.”

Partners? After all you had been through? Were you partners? Did Bucky believe that?

“Are we?” you didn't try to hide the incredulous tone that accompanied your words, because it already sounded like you'd just stepped through the door into a parallel dimension.

“Sure,” Bucky nodded to emphasize your words and the calm expression on his face became more familiar with each passing second. Could it be that that had always been the reality and you had been deprived of it? “We've known each other for five years.”

“I always thought you hated me…” you mumbled to yourself, looking lost because your head recalling every fight of the last few years, since you met him, every tongue out and every exalted word, but his incredible hearing clearly picked up what you said as if you had murmured it in his ear.

“Surely it was a mistake in communication.”

“Mistake?” you frowned at his reassurance. “You always called me stubborn and childish every chance you got.”

“I thought we were annoying each other. Although, of course,” his face became a little more serious, “there were times when I knew you hated me intensely. You said really hurtful things, what was I supossed to do? That's why I never bothered to talk to you like this. You did hate me.”

“Because I thought you…! Argh.”

Bucky smiled again.

“You're the insufferable one, Barnes.”

You hated the way your head snapped back to that image in the living room, so peaceful and calm, so serene and warm, the moment his barely noticeable smile hit you again. You had barely managed to get those words out of your mouth before you felt yourself running out of breath again.

Were you asthmatic?

And why was your head suddenly filled with platonic thoughts you'd never had before in your life?

What the fuck was happening to you?

“This is the longest civilized conversation we've ever had,” Bucky spoke again, his gaze wandering somewhere in the room.

Yes, that was true. Whenever you talked for this long it was always to argue and say hurtful things to each other. But you were too surprised by everything he had said, because just yesterday he told you that he didn't want to come on this mission with you either and in his eyes you were sure you saw something like what you felt. Something of hatred, when you saw your eyes through his.

Did you just… imagine it all?

Did you think he hated you because you hated him too?

Or maybe you wanted to convince yourself that he hated you. Maybe it was easier to deal with that than with the idea that you…

Oh no.

No, no, no. There's no fucking way that's it.

But then Bucky stood up and with his smug, know-it-all, hateful look, with that sly, evil grin, like he'd always known everything, like he was squirming around enjoying your confused stare, he held out his hand to you and said:

“Shall we fix something to eat?”

Oh, no, you were screwed.

--

a/n: thank u so much for reading!! <3

[fortemelody]

AHHHSHFBTKFNTLFKGNFMDM SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER IM LOOSING MY SHIT RN

here’s some things i noticed/wondered/loved:

- i think in that scene where tom is on the ground yelling for sonic, he is wearing a special forces suit. maybe he upgraded from cop to working with gun?? if so i think that’s a really good use of his character actually! he wanted to save a life and raise a family above all else yes, but he still got his previous dream of doing more serious cop work!

- shadow just. has a big ass portal?? like holy shit he’s just suckin the life outta earth and ig that’s one way to do it (or maybe it’s just a ring and i’m stupid idek)

- i’m sure we’ll learn more about this in the actual movie so i’m not too worried, but i’m super confused at the very beginning scene. apparently sonic didn’t change his heart…but he did tho? like he learned what being a true hero meant in the last movie. tbh i feel like that’s enough but hey i’m not against more character development for our boy so!! (also that bit where he’s like “in my lungs” was actually really funny to me, ben schwartz’ awesome delivery caught me off guard)

- GERALD ROBOTNIK ALIVE HUUUUH?! tbh i would’ve preferred if maria was alive, i feel like that would be an interesting dynamic. but also ig that would make it harder for shadow to learn anything so i totally get it. anyways i’m just glad they’re putting a little twist on the story, it keeps it interesting. they already sorta did that with the knuckles and iblis thing actually! (even if that show sucked ass and although that probably wasn’t intentional 😭)

- even tho bro only got like… 3 lines, i really think keanu fits shadow. he’s very soft spoken in comparison to the rest of the case which feels nice. also he’s like the “really bad” guy so ofc he’s not gonna be yappin on and on like sonic or robotnik and he’s gonna take things uber seriously.

- where was my girl maddie :( i think she was only in like a singular frame. hope shes in the movie a somewhat significant amount. i heart pretzel lady!! could live without wade tho like pls im so sick of his bowling soap opera 💀

- FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK!!! after fucking 3 movies they finally fulfilled jim carrey’s wishes!! let the man get creative like please i love jim carrey sm aughdfhfnfmschxj. also love how we got so much stobonik content within that short scene like jesus come get y’all’s food

- shadow at one point says something along the lines of “when we’re done, there won’t be anything left.” maybe i’m reading WAY to into this but what does the “we’re” part mean?? is he working with others? i feel like this is either gonna be team dark or some new movie exclusive character(s). edit: someone made a valid point that he’s actually probably referring to gerald (look at reblogs!)

-CHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey wonder if the room therye in is like an amusement park or somethin like that

- no sign of amy :( but honestly my prediction now is that she’s gonna be the post credit scene teaser cus they always do a new character reveal there. first tails, then shadow. and honestly now i think it might be better that way so shadow can have a chance to breathe and show his story in full. i’m pretty sure i vaguely remember colleen (tails’ VA) being kinda mysterious about amy’s appearance when asked, and also the fact that it was confirmed that this isn’t the end of the movie franchise/universe. but ig we’ll just have to wait and see!

so sorry i stated this yesterday morning to give my initial thoughts but then got busy and completely forgot to post/finish it. and today i started (and am close to finishing) a very long edit of the trailer, so be on the look out for that too!

genuinely i feel like this movie is gonna somehow be even more record breaking than any of the previous movies and i am so here for the hype 🙏

[azzumei]

ღ a plus !

ღ summary: how would hsr men be like as parents? ღ

° characters: blade, danheng, jing yuan

° warnings: afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy

° genre: headcannons, fluff with some suggestive texts

when danheng found out you were pregnant, he still had that cold, unfazed face- but on the inside he was indeed suprised and baffled.

you could've sworn you saw his entire body shaking, his face pale as the snow in belobog.

but to be honest, i feel like having a family for him would be planned- he sure isn't the type of man to just knock you up accidentally.

i'm betting you both would have twins, YES. son and daughter- I also bet danheng's genes would be super strong, so both of them would probably be the splitting image of your husband.

he would be the best at taking care of you!!, oh you're craving ice cream? he's on it. does the dress he bought for you during his and your 2nd anniversary doesn't fit you anymore? he's buying you a new, and more beautiful one.

he would be right there by your side whenever you feel nauseous or uneasy, whispering words of affirmation and whenever you doubt being a good mother- "you will be the best mother alive, i promise."

also, whenever you both are planning for the children on the way- he definitely gets excited and buys every single thing that can ensure safety for your children and cute things that would suit them too.

when theyre born, 100% he would be a strict, but caring dad. not letting them even touch a plastic knife or his spear.

and if the twins inherit their dad's dragon genes, he would look after them even more for the time being (he doesnt wanna lose the three of you ok)

overall 10/10 dad

okay, this one is kinda tricky uhm-

when you told blade, he just chuckled and kissed you on the forehead- also not the type of man to just get you pregnant without expecting/planning it.

''thank you, my love.'' he would whisper, as he hugs you softly as he buries his neck in your neck.

during the pregnancy, because of his job, he can't be with you 24/7, but he'll try to spend as much time with you as he can. sending you sweet messages, and he would also hire a helper to help you through those days.

im thinking.. maybe a daughter- and yes he would also be a strict dad, but of course he would let her enjoy her life.

adores seeing the bump on your stomach getting bigger- perhaps you both might have another before the other is born....

def would spoil you!!! dresses, cardigans, the food you crave? hes buying them all.

during soft nights he would rub his hand in circles around your bump, you swear you could see hearts in his eyes whenever he does

overall, 9/10 dad

jing yuan wasn't surprised, at all. though- he was proud and happy.. a miniature version of him and his beloved? how exciting!

since he sees yanqing as a son, jing yuan would definitely let your child(ren) be with yanqing whenever youre both not around- like a big brother. (but no swords yanqing...)

overprotective. yes- even if you just want to cut apples he'll do it instead. a minor cut on your finger makes him tense up, so- assure him you'll be just fine.

would spend more time with you, and certainly stop napping around and finish his work quickly so he can be with you.

i see him having triplets, but their looks are half and half with yours and jing yuan's. when theyre grown up- he would def train them to become stronger to protect themselves

somewhat strict, only if it contains having to wield something dangerous or going somewhere that has numerous monsters unsupervised is a big no. he doesnt wanna lose anyone again.

overall, 9.5/10 dad

[angelyuji]

PART 2

imagine that you just fucking wake up in an eerie suburban house, and nothing seems wrong, except the sky is filled with different colours, there seems to be a ring too? when were there two stars in the sky? and why are the trees so weird, thick, fluffy and seem... alive? your panicking af. you get off your bed, very big and comfy but your only thought is where are you-

"Oh hey sweetie, awake from your beauty sleep, huh?",

Rick. Rick Sanchez.

He leans on the doorway, arms crossed, sleeves of his blue shirt rolled upwards, watching you with a sly smirk (screaming, fangirling rn) and you just know, he will play the oblivious kidnapper who has no idea why you are mad. scared. and about to hurl yourself towards him to push him and make a break for it.

but he doesn't budge. your hand is in a tight grip, as his tall form dwarves yours easily, you yell at him, curse at him but he just... brushes it off. and it continues to be that way for a week.

with you trying to find a way to escape or reason with him. but Rick seems to be in his own world. tinkering with some machines in his garage which is completely off limits to you. the house cleans itself. there are multiple machines which overwhelmed you with how... advanced they seem. and atp you are aware that he was somewhat of a very good scientist.

Sometimes, it feels too domestic. Fighting against Rick was useless. He was strong. too strong to be normal. but again, nothing was normal. I mean ffs you were on an alien planet??? How??? aliens exist holy shit??? but one day you hear him curse loudly, making you jump. there's an intimidating look on his face as he enters the living room, looking at you with a tight grin on his face.

"Sorry baby, but I gotta go for a while, okay? My gra- err -i just have some work to do."

Blinking. You watch with a carefully poised form as he leaves to his garage, hearing something similar to a car to start up. This could be your chance! Yes!

the thing is when Rick is back, he almost loses his fucking mind but do you really think he, Rick Sanchez was that stupid? He has eyes, security measures all over this goddamn planet. He knows you aren't in great danger. knows that you haven't been kidnapped. He's still pissed off and could easily find you (You have a tracker on you) but where's the fun in that yknow?

Just Rick, who decides to hunt you down by himself. no gadgets. nothing. just him and his pickaxe he found in his old place. he likes being the hunter, y'know? just giving into his instincts and genius, feeling the thrill as he gets closer to you, taunts you, his laughter echoing in the lonely forest and honestly? a good oldschool spanking might be in order too for his disobedient little girl.

18+

tw // kidnapping, noncon

FUCJCJKDKD DUDE OHMYMHOGODDD HE WOULD BE SOOO INTO CHASINF AFTER U

also imagine ur panic at seeing this old man since he def stopped taking that age-reversal stuff like

little noncon-y but he’d definitely fuck u in the forest as punishment for trying to escape and hes definitely so turned on by the whole situation???? like hes soooooooo

GAWWDJEJSJD INEEDHIM

i said this in the tags of part 1, but his laugh in the court case reading video is what im imagining rn and iolbhngmtnehgwhwiwo god i need him🤕🤕

[baby-xemnas]

i love captains-first mates dynamics so much because they are so different and luzo NOT being childhood friends to lovers and instead being love at first sight/only cremate luffy sought out/all that instead of 2 different kinds of growth together that kidkiller and lawbepo had is really so fun

luzo are not a slow burn they are an explosion, luffy waits for nothing, he isnt scared to lose this new and precious friendship he found. idk if theres a fic but there should be where luzo first time is post mihawk. luffy getting a clear confirmation that zoro is his and since he is His why wouldnt he tear into him. yes grave injury may be a turn off but seeing a weakened and vulnerable zoro makes luffy insane (hes alive that placated some of his protective instincts, his worry is settling down) he hates that zoro is hurt but his weak voice makes him hard and zoros proclamation of loyalty is vivid in luffy's mind. that's his right there he doesnt want to wait ..they can be careful right it's fine (zoro is crazy enough to go along you know this)

the way the power balance is so different where luzo are most equal and lawbepo is the least lol

personally i love thinking that out of aaaaalll of them killer is the most mature and savvy when it comes to relationships (because while law got more seriousness in him than the remaining five combined - he is very able to hurt bepo) killer got his cute level headed moments i adore. i love that he can hold kid on a short leash and make him think it was his idea But also just allow kid to do whatever because he adores him

⬆️ being true for all vices but in different ways. killer is indulgence, idk if im overfocusing on their age gap but imo killer somewhat still feels like taking care of kid as a younger brother so that "sure babe" is laced with care, adoration, acute awareness that he is letting a wild horse run free and it will surely break something and hurt itself and "i have a firm hand on your arm so you dont trip, i love you"

bepo sees law as godlike of course captain can do whatever, his word is absolute and he is never wrong. "you are the best thing around and the best thing in my life i love you"

zoro is so hard when luffy is wilding out it stops his brain function. "i will lose all my limbs for you i love you"

[demxnicprxncess]

His Mask (Kai AndersonxFem. Reader)

Warnings (Foriegn objects up the vagina, Kai Anderson, Punsishing?, Stupidity)

"Where were you" As soon as I step into this damned house I was immediately interrogated like I did something wrong. "The store?" I just looked at the blue haired man as I set down the bags obviously filled with food, drinks, and some extra stuff I found. "Who told you you could go?" His intense glare boring into my soul, what did he mean? Why would I need permission to get necessities. "I didn't know I needed permission." He stayed blank faced, "Why is that" I watched as he stood up slowly, his feet kind of dragging across the floor that looked to be freshly mopped. "You yourself said, 'dead people can't vote.' I believe food is something to keep us alive." As soon as I said that I felt his grip my neck squeezing it tauntingly. "Go to the room." I had officialy fucked up, he was either going to fuck me 'till I snapped in half, or he was going to mark me. I hated when he marked me, I still have the scar from when he carved his idiotic three letter name into my thigh. I didn't entirely hate it, however I would've really prefered if I had a choice. I made it to our room as I sat on the bed, I watched as his frame pressed against the door after he had walked in and shut it. "Now again, tell me what I said?" I looked at him not able to tell what he had behind his back. I watched as he came closer, but before I could register what happened he slapped me making me fall back on the bed. "Answer." I quickly nodded and sat up looking into his eyes, "Dead people can't vote", he merely smirked. "With that being said, I'll let you pick what I use. Both correlate to death bunny" I looked at him slightly scared. I watched as he pulled out a pocket knife and his mask. What would he do with the mask? "C'mon, pick or I use both." I flinched slightly but pointed at his mask, watching as he smirked and put it on his somewhat attractive face before laying back on the bed, the back of the clown mask hitting the pillow causing it to rise up just a bit. "What are you doing?" I watched as he patted his stomach signaling me to sit on his chest. I quietly crawled over to him sitting on his chest as I felt him unbutton my pants, so I removed my pants and panties to help him and possibly lessen my 'punishment'. "Ride my mask." I was in sheer shock. "What?" I felt his hand slap against my bare ass. I jolted forward as a result making his shirt push against my clit making a moan build up in the back of my throat waiting to be released. I slipped forward and backwards on his chest to get myself wet, moaning softly. "That's enough." I nod and climb forward before gently lowering myself onto the red makeshift dildo. "atta girl." I moaned barely as I felt the cold plastic stretch out my warm walls. "s'to much" He chuckled softly before grabbing my ass and movinv me up and down on his mask/face. "You're so good to me, however you love to do what you want." I felt as I moved faster, and his hands moved me even faster. I was so close already. "P-please" I whimpered out. "Please what bunny?" " 'm gonna cum Kai please" I felt as he stopped me which dragged out a whiney whimper from me. "No, please, Im sorryy" He raised me off of his mask and started taking it off. "Ride my face." I quickly sat my wet, arousal, coated cunt onto his face. Smearing my juices all over his stubble, lips, and even some on his nose while I grip his hair moaning and riding his face at a quicker pace. His mouth slurping and sucking on my sensitive vagina. "can I c-" "yes." I whine cumming in his face still slowly grinding on his face. "off." I slowly moved off his face laying down, absolutely exhausted. I barely notice him leave. I guess he has other people to worry about too.

Taglist: @ppawmpkin, @yes-divine-ruler lmk if you wanna be removed or added <3

[blub-blub-bish]

Zombie Kenny, but every time he dies, he comes back and slowly becoming a zombie again

A very much self indulgent, Kenny centered, zombie au idea. Aka, a long ass idea that over uses the word “which “ and “HOWEVER “

Long ass idea below cut vvv

Basically, Kenny, who can’t stay dead, got bit in the zombie apocalypse. the first time he got bit, he became a normal zombie, like usual. After around a week, he lost consciousness and ended up in the afterlife.in hell he watched his body, still roaming around on earth, and thought “ oh, this must be it. I’m dead. For good.” Not really sure if he should feel sad or happy, but he’s dead for good. Right?

WRONG.

When his body, that for some reason decompose faster than others, decomposed enough and dies, he came back a normal human. HOWEVER, his body is slowly decomposing again, which has pros and cons.

The pros:

•He’s practically immune, considering he’s like…partially a zombie already

•The zombies think he’s one of them, so now, He can walk through a zombie horde or just wander around without getting chased and shit.

•He doesn’t need much sleep. He only needed around 2 hours of sleep to last 2 days, making him a great night guard.

•Cthulhu took pity on him and decided he would respawn around his allies every time he dies.

•He’s very light, people could pick him up like those school skeleton models and just carry him around.

The cons:

•His body is literally deteriorating, which hurts like a bitch. He feels constantly like he’s slowly dying (which he is)

•Because his body deteriorates over time, at some point, his body is wayyy too weak to function. So he had to either, kill himself, or wait until the virus kill him. Which can take months.

•He usually already have to kill himself every 2 weeks. If he does it over 2 weeks, he would literally lose control over his own body.

•When he lost control over his body (over 2 weeks), he is still conscious. But like watching a movie, he can’t do anything. Just watch. That’s why when he starts to feel like he’s loosing control over his own body, he kills himself.

•After finding allies, he would ask someone he trusted to make sure to kill him if he went over the 2 weeks mark. His allies usually remind him when this happens.

•After a week , he can’t cook for others. 1, because his tongue is usually dead, so he doesn’t taste shit, and 2, because his skin starts to peel, which might fell into the food. Which sucks because my headcanon is that his love language is cooking for others.

•Speaking of food, my guy could only eats meat and chocolate.

• If he doesn’t eat for over a day, he would literally go crazy and bite any meat (human, animal, don’t matter) which would turn the thing that he bites into zombies.(if he doesn’t eat the whole thing)

• The meat and muscles in his body rots, so he smells like shit all the time :v. Mf have to practically bathe in perfume so he doesn’t smell like a corpse.

———-

Why does his body still deteriorates you may ask?

Because Im the writer and I say so./j

The somewhat more logical explanation of that is because he was still conscious for a while after he got bit, aka his body is still somewhat alive. If only the zombies ate him, he would have been able to comeback normal. But they didn’t. So now he had to live with his curse. Womp womp

“Oh, but his curse make people forget he died.” Yes. People still forget that he died. HOWEVER, they still remember that he got bit. They still remember him saying he can’t permanently die and genuinely believe him when he started to look like an actual zombie. Like, his skin starts peeling, his meat and muscles starts rotting (which he usually rips out with a knife bc it smells like shit. Ripping it out also slowed the deterioration process), and bone LITERALLY showing on his arms and legs, yet he still have control over his body.

When he kill himself, he usually comes back after 2-3 days, but if the virus kills him, aka the virus taking over, giving him around 3 very, VERY, painful months, he would come back around a month or 2 . Basically recovering mentally and physically in the afterlife.

Basically, his life sucked for the rest of his existence. Even satan and Damian took pity on him, but they can’t really do anything considering his curse is in Cthulhu’s hands.

[tai-janai]

Use me as an excuse to share your headcanons on the Voice of the Hunted, I’m curious about what you think of him!

OUHGH. WELL

i have a separate post where i talk about him and cheated and i go into a lot there, but YES SIR

physically i think he is probably one of the smallest (being the most insistent on it, rivaling little broken) but im not one of the people that believes them to be different birds; i think all of them but the narrator are crows.

the wings i give him are small and flighty, even for his stature. i dont think he is the way he is by choice. he tells the others and the princess (the wild) that he is small, and he feels his first bit of respite when she says he can be more than that. ive explained before how i think of all the voices as trauma responses, and his is one of the more obvious. Kill or be killed, as he says explicitly.

but of course he would want a break from all that; anyone would. his final words in the Moment of Clarity, "im ready to sleep" (or something of the sort) just shows that this poor guy needs his rest. He is also Always Right and i LOVE that in a character. the smelling everything? GOD. him being the only one to deny the mirror is SO GOOD. he would be the one to understand that our eyes can trick us, even above the skeptic!!!

but this is about headcanons not just why i like him (i could go on)

i like assigning things colors, and hunted got an almost highlighter teal (for his scales). it does not help him; it is another thing he can't change about himself, that he just has to live with. he is unfortunately very resigned to his role in the game of cat and mouse. i wish he could be there to experience one of the happier endings, where it isn't so much a life-or-death situation. love is just as much a part of survival as anything. i want him to be allowed to be alive.

i kind of think he likes the others a lot, especially the more competent ones. he understands the strengths of the ones that have gone through what he has. he may not be so open to those of the Knifeless routes (opp, conty, smitty).

Hero is one that i think he gets a long with a lot. Hero would want him to take it easy, and i kind of have him as a somewhat protective older brother figure to the little Hunted. being very supportive like "hey you kept us alive ^^ :D" and hunted being unable to take that compliment because. "Of course i did."

i kind of think of him as a little brother to some others too (stub, skippy) but Hero would be one to let him take a break, unlike the other two. (Imagine Stubborn trying to tell someone not to fight. yeah no)

I, and Hunted himself, think of him as very animalistic. instinctual. he will run himself into the dirt until the worms swallow him. there is no limit to his effort except death. in the route of the Beast, it is obvious that he doesn't let exhaustion stop him. anything for the sake of survival; there can be no rest.

im sure some Other Voices have some Things to say about that.

Stubb: yes very good. the only end is death and that isnt a problem for us.

Cheated: are you INSANE

ONTO CHEATED BECAUSE I CANT TALK ABOUT ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER

Cheated is a lot like Hunted, excluding the "kill or be killed" instinct. they both have the perseverance to continue fighting, but cheated has a different kind of patience. i think they'd understand and trust each other, in a way they usually cant with others, but in ways some others have amongst themselves. Cheated would see Hunted's unhealthy way of dealing with things and would probably be the most adamant on giving him a break. "he does the most for us so why doesn't he get to rest?" kinda thing.

but also i think cheated thinks hunted is pretty (because i like to think hunted is pretty bird)

uhgh anyway. i. think thats all i got

[mandowifey]

Exhume

Miguel O'hara x Reader

This is part of a nonlinear story.

Warnings: This has multiple changing POV's (Im trying here), PwP, dark!Miguel, captive reader, stockholm syndrome, NSFW, dead dove, this has officially become 'dub con' territory. Au events, following along the movie SORTA. Reader is referred to as she/her pronouns.

Lil warning: this was hastily written in different points of the past couple months. I wanted to release it as is and not over edit the work I put in. The next chapter(s) will be more refined. Enjoy the slop LOL

° ° °

The space behind Miguel's eyes throbs as Jessica speaks up. Not that he hadn't found kinship with the woman before everything, but lately, he'd been irritable more than usual. While he tried to conceal it and bury himself away in his work, of course, his infuriatingly perceptive companion would notice.

His patience was wearing thin. He didn't mind the company before, but now that he had you, he wanted time to check the cameras. More than once, he'd caught you attempting to break loose or creatively end your life. Keeping you alive meant being attentive, and right now, Jessica was making that difficult.

"Miguel, are you alright?"

What kind of answer could he really give?

'No, I'm exhausted trying to maintain the multiverse while simultaneously covering the fact I have lost my mind and am holding a young woman hostage in my loft.'

Instead, he sighs and drops his shoulders. "Yes, Jess, I'm fine-"

"You aren't, I know you. I know when you're hangry, or moody or brooding, or when you are in need of your 'medicine'. This isn't fine." The woman folds her arms just below her bossom, against the swell of her belly. Miguel had congratulated her somewhat bitterly when she told their group.

Gritting his teeth, he pawed his face before he looked at her. "What do you want me to say?" Miguel snipped, a flash of red glinting in those onyx orbs. Jess seemed unphased and stood her ground with a frown.

"Just tell me what's going on. You know me, anything that's troubling you, I'll help." Her voice changed, adopting something acute to motherly. Jessica was by no means a soft woman before, but pregnancy had upset the balance of her hormones and now, sometimes, her rough exterior broke to show the gentle soul nestled within.

Miguel watches her, catching her gaze before averting his eyes shamefully. "It's nothing you can help with." He turned the broad canvas of his back to her, staring at the array of holoscreens above the control board. His fingers itched to press the code to the loft, wanting to check on you. He typically watched off and on in five minute intervals, but with Jess standing and practically breathing down his neck, he couldn't.

The woman tilts her head at the vague response, her brows raised behind her yellow glasses. Persistence was one of her strong suits.

"Try me."

-

Time ticked down like sand through an hourglass. Dragging, unyielding in its slow descent. You struggled to amuse yourself now. Tv, YouTube, baking, none of it worked anymore. You felt compelled to do something with your time but couldn't determine what. Puzzles became boring now that you'd completed each one three times. Sometimes, you cleaned and took things apart just to put it back together.

All this time, locked in a tower.

You started to feel bad for zoo animals.

As your mind began to drift away, so did your resolve. Instead of dreading his return, you looked forward to it. In the morning following your break, you had almost begged Miguel to stay home with you. Your hands ached to feel the weight of his face between them. Your lungs missed the way he compressed you. Miguel left you yearning for more, especially after the evening you had consented his touch.

Instead of sleeping the day away, you turn music loud on the speakers and close your eyes. It wasn't much, but you imagined yourself on a stage, dancing in an empty amphitheater. Shy ministrations became wild as you lost yourself in the fantasy. You were having fun, feeling almost childish in your amusement. Miguel had never confirmed your suspicions, but you knew he had the place rigged with cameras.

Part of you hoped he enjoyed the show - as silly as it was.

You spun and twirled, throwing yourself over the chair and couch, dramatically flinging yourself off the furniture and laughing as it became less of a dance and more of a mosh pit. A sensation of freedom and peace washed over you, taking you off your feet with each lunge and jump. Arms out, you did circles on the coffee table before falling backward off of it and onto the plush couch. As the song faded, your eyes opened at the ceiling, and your smile began to fade.

Nausea hit you like a truck.

Even with the room spinning, you scrambled and found your way to the kitchen trashcan. Knocking it to the ground along with yourself, you shoved your face into it just in time to vomit. Lunch - a sandwhich and chips - mostly digested and not nearly as enjoyable as it was going down, fell from your mouth in violent, painful heaves. Sweat from your wild dance routine now mingled with the sweat of being sick. Beads traced down your forehead and temple as you puked again, your shoulders bunching.

A fever rocked through you, aching to the bone. Coughing, you gasp for air as your eyes water. Lesson learned: Don't mosh pit in the living room. You wait on the cold tile floor until the nausea passes. Drawing upwards, you fix the trash can and groan as you get woozy. Bracing a hand on the island, you wobble towards the bedroom, having to go slow and lean your weight against the nearest surface.

Once you reach the bathroom, you turn the cold water on and keep the lights out. Undressing was impossible now that your limbs felt like cement blocks. As you climb in, you lay on your side as the shower rains down onto you. With your eyes closed and fever addled brain not working, you don't notice the steam rising off your body.

-

"A... girlfriend?"

Jessica looked skeptical with her hips tilted in the opposite direction of her head. A frowned pinched in her face, and nose slightly crinkled. Miguel was a lot of things, but she had assumed that after all he'd been through, he lost interest in companionship. Though, it would explain why he'd been ducking out of missions and avoiding any talk about it. Her shoulders relaxed as she acted like she made sense of it in her head.

"Well, I- I mean, that's great." Her skepticism was replaced with a genuine smile. "That's pretty big, I won't tell anyone." She laughed and rested a fist on her hip. Before Miguel could begin saying thanks, she cut in; "If you tell me about her. I want details. Is she cute? Is she local? A Gwen?" A grin stretched across her features as she drew in closer, the other spider staring at her with a confused and somewhat uncomfortable expression.

Something beeped rapidly, and Lyla came into view near him. "Miguel, there's something wrong." Her voice chirped in his ear. Jessica looked between the two, her brows raising. "Multiverse? Anomally?" She was ready to spring into action. Miguel shut down the console, and his mask reformed over his face. "No, I'll be back tomorrow." He jumped from the platform and landed noisily on his feet. The man took off into a sprint, tearing past Jess and vanishing out the door.

Once gone, Jessica stood in silence. While the gears churned in her head, she frowned, knowing Miguel was lying.

-

With the loft situated at the tip of the tower, Miguel typically would ride the elevator up. Lyla had brought it to his attention that something was seriously wrong with you, and his instincts had him ferociously clawing his way up the side of the building. Pieces of cement and glass falling behind him as he tore himself upward, powerful shoulders and biceps flexing as he propelled on. Anything could have happened to you, and his mind went to the darker extremes.

After just a few moments, he crawled onto the balcony and ripped the door hard enough to break the lock. The force he used to tear the sliding glass door open caused an entire panel to shatter on impact as he walked inside. His mask pulled back, exposing wild red eyes and furrowed brows.

"Y/N?"

Miguel's sensitive ears picked up on the sound of the shower, and he cleared the living room in a single jump. A sweet smell tickled his nose, and he recoiled slightly, unsure what he was smelling. More panic pricked at his guts as he felt the desire to nest and protect you grow. "Y/N!" He barked, stepping into the bathroom and looking at your clothed, soaking form in the tub. "Dios- what are you doing?" He withdrew his gloves and felt the ice cold water. Hissing, he turned the shower off and dropped to his knees.

"Hey, hey," his voice softened, his burning red irises fading to brown as he delicately tried to lift and move you. As his bare hands touched you, he was stunned at the sheer amount of heat radiating off your body. "Hey!" He snapped, feeling a familiar dread building in him. Miguel was suddenly back in that alternate universe, watching everything fall apart and his daughter dying in his arms. That helplessness returning, realizing something was seriously wrong with you.

"C'mon, come on. Open your eyes, you're okay. You're okay." He pulled you into his arms and lap, cradling your soaked body against his. "Look at me, please. Please." His voice tightened, and a lump formed in his throat. Seeing you so pale and limp made him uneasy. His fingers press to your throat, feeling for a pulse. When you cough, he startles and stares down at you.

"There you are."

"Miguel.." You croaked, your throat raw from puking.

"Yeah, I'm here."

He was standing slowly, keeping you bridal style in his strong arms. "I missed you." You smiled, eyes still closed as you tucked your face into his chest. He felt his heart pound, heat rising to his cheeks as he took you to the bed and peeled your saturated clothes off. "You did?" He asked, flicking his eyes to your peaceful and tired expression. Miguel watched as you smiled and nodded, your little hands reaching to find him blindly. He leans close, pushing kisses to your palms and rubbing his face into them. A whine builds in his throat, relief hitting him now that you were conscious.

Miguel stood and tucked you naked into the bed. You curled up, still feverish but comfortable in the warmth. He runs back and forth from the kitchen, fetching you water and saltines, along with a small bin from the bathroom in case you need it. When you slumped and your breathing slowed, Miguel climbed into the bed behind you and curled his massive frame around yours, his own eyes feeling heavy. That sweet aroma persisted, making his heart pound and bones itch. There was a lingering desire to tuck you up somewhere high and far away, to build you a nest of webs and keep you from the world-

"Did you like it?"

Your voice pulled his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

Squirming yourself into his chest, you yawn and sag into the pillows. "My dance." You sounded dreamlike. Miguel was confused but pushed his face into your neck as he squeezed around you gently.

"I loved it, kid."

-

It was only nightmares in your slumber.

Your body, swelling and growing more until you burst. Spiders crawled out of your belly and along your skin, chittering as they began to feast on your skin. You were helpless to watch, sobbing and frozen, suspended in red, vibrant webbing.

"You're doing so well, you'll be ready for the next clutch soon."

His voice came from the dark, peering red eyes and a silhouette against the inky black. You sob and cry for help, but he only watches as your offspring take bite after searing bite.

"Such a good mother, Y/N."

As you sob, he says your name again.

Then again-

"Y/N!"

Blackness becomes light, and light gives way to the familiar face of Miguel. You gawk up at him, aware your heart was pounding. Miguel cupped his hand against your cheek, brown eyes wide and concerned as he leaned over you to check your eyes. "You alright? Bad dream?" He leaned closer, knocking his forehead to yours and sighing. "Thought you were a goner." He mumbled, his breath fanning your lips.

Everything in you felt electric. You recalled getting sick and stumbling into the shower, but you hadn't been sure what followed. It was difficult to discern your memories with him so close. He smelled differently to you now, too. His scent was stronger, comforting in the sense that you had a strong urge to push your face into him and inhale.

So you did.

Miguel jerks with surprise as you sink into his chest, clutching at him and breathing in. The smell was borderline hypnotic. You already had begun the process of crumbling for him, and now you were sinking even further. A large hand touches your back and rubs gently, uncertain. The change of heart confused him. "That fever really cooked your brain, princess." You smile against his shoulder and rub your cheek into his collar bone.

"I had a fever?" You lean back, looking up at him and admiring the strong line of his jaw. Miguel tilts, looking down at you. The eye contact makes your heart throb and heat rocket to your groin. "You were burning up when I found you. You had dragged yourself into the shower and passed out. Lyla picked up on the dip in your vitals." His thick fingers pet through your hair, dragging along your scalp and coming to rest at the base of your neck. The concern in his tone was palpable.

More warmth pooled on your insides, your heart quickening and loins catching fire. Miguel caught your scent, and his nostrils flared. At this distance, you could see when his pupils stretched and blew out. He drew a shaky breath and curled his fingers tighter against your neck. This reaction from him was new. Certainly he got riled up when it came to fucking you, but something was different. Your scent was amplified tenfold, and he could hear the patter of your fast pulse beneath your skin.

Jaw aching, Migule suddenly released your neck and tore himself across the bed. You were left stunned, sitting half obscurred by the think blankets as your captor stumbled out of the bedroom. Slipping out of the bed, you stand and realize how good you felt. It was a strange sensation, like having a really good nights sleep post workout. "Miguel!" You call, hearing him rummaging around. Stepping into the bathroom, you rinse your mouth and brush your teeth before heading out in one of his discarded shirts.

"Shit."

Miguel tossed things from the drawers and looked around. "Miguel?" You ask again, and he swivels to look at you. "Keep back." He warned, his teeth sharp and eyes glowing. One of his hands covered his nose and mouth, trying to keep your scent at bay. Miguel felt it had to be time for another shot. He had no idea you were having the same issue, like a tiger in a cage. All you could see was him, your body tightly coiled, ready to burst. Your skin itched, your bones tightened, and you struggled to form a coherent thought. The both of you stared at each other, wordless and trying to keep composure.

The scent of you was killing him. He could smell your sex and practically taste it with how strong your pheromones wafted over his olfactory sensors. This was different than when he was off his medicine. He wasn't hungry for blood. He was hungry for you. Every part of you calls to him like a lighthouse in the night. He wanted to nestle inside of you and draw your warmth for his own. In the same breath, he felt the powerful urge to breed you, to nest you, and to keep you safe.

His smell was doing almost the same to you. You had woken up with a new set of senses. You could see him better, hear him better, and smell him better. Your skin burned with desire, craving his own against it. An ache grew in your own jaws, the desire to sink your teeth into him and take him as yours, to cover him in your smell and ward off any others. To tell the world he was yours, only yours.

Something broke inside of you both.

Miguel came towards you as you rushed towards him and caught you in his arms. Your limbs wound around him like pythons as your mouths crashed together. The kissing was frantic and sloppy. Teeth against teeth, spit, and blood spilling from burst lips as you both fought tongue to tongue. He moves you backward, knocking you against the fridge and making you grunt into his mouth.

"Baby," you gasp, petting a hand through his thick, dark hair before gripping it like a vice. When you yank his head back, Miguel hisses. His red eyes are wild and teeth bare as he looks at you like an animal in a cage. "Fuck me."

Miguel takes you to the bedroom, bumping into various objects along the way as you devoured one another. He throws you down into the mattress - harder than intended - and you bounce and snarl. Something is different now. You feel alive, you feel *strong.* Baring your own teeth, you shift on all fours, lunging at him with your arms out. The bigger man catches you and throws you down again, and something in the bed cracks.

He descends upon you before you can retaliate. "You're an animal." His voice was breathless, amused as he grabbed your hips and flipped you face down into the mattress. Usually, Miguel controlled his strength to avoid breaking you. But now he grabbed you relentlessly, holding you down as he shoved the shirt up your back. "Gonna act like a wild bitch, I'm gonna fuck you like one." Miguel's voice was heavy with lust, growling out of his chest.

You struggle, but dip your back and widen your knees under you. While your new instincts begged for you to bite and mark him, they also simpered at being put in their place. Cunt leaking, you whine against the blankets. Miguel inhales, savoring your scent as he slaps your ass , claws out. The hit stings, making you lurch forward and shriek. Your own nails dig into the blankets, tearing them as you shove back towards him. Miguel watched the mark bloom on your skin, and he smirked as he cupped your mound and shoved in two fingers.

The heat of your insides is searing, and he gasps, pumping to the knuckle in quick, strong movements. You keen for him, shoving back to meet him as stars burst behind your eyes. "Fuck me, please." You couldn't recognize your own voice. The desire so strong you were certain you'd end up melting into the mattress itself. A chuckle rumbles behind you and you whine at the loss of those thick fingers, though you weren't empty for long. Miguel's cock forces inside, filling every inch of available space within you.

You two groan in tandem, and you shove back to force him to hilt. Miguel grunts, his large, calloused hands grasping your hips to start pumping you on his dick. His dark eyes honed in, watching your tight body swallow his length like it were made for him. The sounds you make are unhinged. Sharp cries mixed with breathless groans as he punches the air out of you. Your mind is white hot, and your cunt sears from the friction of him dragging within you.

"O-oh, o-oh f-f-fuck." You manage to gasp out between thrusts. The sound of your bodies plapping together nearly as loud as your cries.

Miguel grins, teeth flashing as a fist slides up your spine and grips into your hair. Grasping at the root, he curls his digits and yanks. Your face is pulled from the bed and your back in a deep arch as he continues to fuck you. "There's my girl. Look at you." He was panting too, his body wracked with the same heat that ravaged yours.

"I wanna feel you cum, princess." Miguel shifts his weight after a few good thrusts. Forcing your head into the blankets, he leans his weight over you and begins to rock harder. Pummeling your end with each pump, his hips colliding noisily with your ass. You are certain he might break you. Shrieking in response to the new angle, you drool and babble for him, his cock stoking the swelling bubble inside you.

You were babbling to him, pleading for him to stop - possibly from a force of habit - but also begging him to cum inside you. Miguel can't make it, and neither can you. As he collides his dick against the spongey, puckered hole of your cervix, you feel fireworks. Your cunt clenches down around him in a wave of convulsions so hard it nearly forces him out. Miguel holds your hips, no longer thrusting but pushing against you to keep himself nestled deep. The milking of your pussy tugs him over the edge shortly after you.

The hero bucks once more for good measure as he empties inside you. His cum hot and thick, painting your insides and saturating you with his essence. As you both catch your breath, you feel Miguel slip out of you and whine from his absence. Large hands flip you over, and he scoops you up. Settling back and leaning against the headboard, Miguel rests you in his lap. For just a moment you look at one another. Sweaty and flushed from sex.

You lean forward, hands on his shoulders as you steal one kiss, then another. Miguel chases your mouth with his own, his hands smoothing over your hips and squeezing before repeating the motion on your ass. "What has gotten into you?" He mutters into your starving mouth. You pause, a hand moving behind his head to grip his hair and yank his head back. Miguel flinches, looking up at you through lidded eyes.

"Aside from you? Nothing." You hum, admiring his jaw and the grooves in his cheeks. "That's funny." His voice was flat, but he did smirk. "Think you can go again, old man?" You release his hair to focus on sitting up on him. Miguel blinks, then nods, his hands back on your hips.

"Good boy."

-

When you both were fully spent, you laid in his arms. Miguel was watching the ceiling, listening to you as you rambled about trips you took outside the city. It all felt strange to him now. Your scent, your cooperation, the way you touched and looked at him. He couldn't place what happened - assuming maybe you had finally snapped. But that wouldn't account for your smell.

Breathing in through his mouth, he tasted your pheremones and felt his chest twinge again. He could feel those urges from before growing; to nest you, feed you, and protect you. Then, the pieces started to fall in place.

You getting sick.

The change in your smell.

The change in your behavior.

How you ached for him.

Miguel's mouth pressed to a thin line as he ran over all the facts again. Then again, and again. No matter how he tried to explain it, there was only one answer. His dark eyes flicked down to you, watching as you rubbed your face into his chest and sniffed at him. He watched your mouth open and the glint of your newly growing fangs as you nip at him. Miguel feels his heart begin to race, recognizing now that you were changing too.

There was no other explanation.

"Miguel? Did you hear me?"

The pound of his heart drowned your voice out. This had been what he wanted, hadn't it? To fill the void his daughter left? To find new happiness and move on, to have another chance?

Panic was building now. Everything was uncharted territory. You were changing, pregnant with his child(ren?) and he was going to be a father again. Miguel didn't register your little hands on his cheeks or the way you continued to say his name. All he could hear was the screams of people around him as their universe caved in. He could feel his daughter's weight fading from his arms, leaving him empty. Now you were pregnant and everything could go wrong.

How did he take care of a pregnant woman without getting caught?

Where would you go for check ups? It wasn't like an OBGYN worked in the tower. There were too many holes in his plan now, he would be risking keeping you to himself. He hadn't thought this part through. Now he could potentially lose you both - not to mention the complications of carrying mutant spider spawn.

"Miguel." Your mouth presses to his.

Eyes widening, he saw you. You sat on top of him, eyes big and face concerned. Miguel clasped your hips and held you close. "Where'd you go?" You ask, rubbing his chest. He stares up, watching for a moment before he sighs and takes your wrist. Pulling your hand to his mouth, he kisses your palm before pressing it to his cheek. "Long day at work, is all."

He knew lying to you wouldn't work for long. No doubt you'd realize sooner rather than later that your body was no longer just your own.

Miguel could cross that bridge when you got to it.

"I'm sorry." You mumble, shifting off of him. "Let's get some rest then. We can shower in the morning." Nestling yourself into his side, you stretch an arm over the expanse of his stomach and squeeze him gently. Miguel wrapped an arm around you and squeezed gently, his eyes still fixated on the ceiling.

It was going to work out.

It had to.

[dsaf-confessions]

I have two of them

1: Steven x Peter isn't that bad honestly. Imo at least. It doesn't deserve the amount of hating it gets. 'But Steven ruined Peter's life by sending him to become a phone guy' the games go out of their way to show and even directly tell you that phone guys are slaved people who are brought back from the dead and forced to do as their programming says. Steven isn't an expert or anything he's just as slaved as the others were. And while he does say 'I hope u can forgive me for this' which kinda means that he knew it was bad? But honestly I still don't blame it on him fully. From my understanding phone guys are only capable of going 'against' (for lack of better word) their programming only if they have some humanity or memories when they were alive, which I dont think Steven does, in both dsaf1 & 3 hes fully convinced that he's Scott Cawthon and only remembers that he isnt after literally being forced to. 'they hate eachother' I've replayed all the dsaf games and I can't find anything confirming that. Steven obviously regrets what he did and wants to make it right to not just Peter, but everyone else as well. Peter and Steven don't interact much, but Peter hasn't said anything mean about Steven once. The only thing that implies this is Peter's line of Jack saving even those who don't deserve it. But honestly he never said it was about Steven. For all we know he could had been referring to Dave or hell even himself. 'Its boss x employee which would be toxic by realistic standards' ok I see your point but why compere realistic standards to fucking dsaf? You know what else would be incredible toxic by realistic standards too? Davesport. But the fandoms not ready for that talk.

Speaking of davesport

2: Davesport is hellaaaaaaa overrated. I get why people ship it. It has much potential. But honestly it's the only thing the fandom talks about and Im getting tired of it. Where's my Steven contact? Where's my Peter or Dee contact? Where's the phone guys, Henry, Jacktrap or hell even Davetrap contact? Where's the angst connect on the Kennedy siblings? The only endings this fandom talks about are like the Gnarly Endings even tho I think the good ending and pure evil endings in dsaf2 are much better better than the gnarly end. Contact of the legacy routes are almost non existent ESPECIALLY on the legacy route of 2 and when there's is. It's davesport angst. How about we make angst about how Jack literally kills his motherfucking sister that he literally died for in an even more curler dsaf3 legacy route. I also hate how much the fandom mischaracterizes it. No they aren't uwu gay boys, no they don't have a perfect relationship. Their relationship is fucking unhealthy, flawed and bittersweet. (No Im not saying davesport is a pr*ship don't accuse me of that, although it's an unhealthy relationship it's not an ab**ive one). Dave literally stalks Jack, he has cameras on his house for the real Fredbear's sake. Yes I know they're treated like jokes, yes I know that Jack doesn't seem to mind, yes I know that Dave & Jack ARE capable of being in a somewhat normal relationship, with Flipside Dave at least. But still that's not healthy. They are literally willing to kill eachother if they're opposite! Those are two dead courses that have been stripped almost completely out of all their humanity thanks to that pink fuck Henry. Obviously they won't be sweet and caring to eachother or anyone really. If you like Davesport at the very least actually protey it correctly.

This is coming from someone who doesn't even ship Steveter (that's what I'll call the ship) and loves Davesport btw

.

[plantwriting]

Okay i have now finished relistening to all of blood in the bayou and I /didn’t/ cry (got close when rand hugged kian but i stayed strong) but here are some thoughts about the final episode!

The reveal with Rolan is still so fucking good. Like. Charlie did such an amazing job foreshadowing it without ever actually giving it away, which is exactly what you want from a plot twist, it’s phenomenal and makes so much sense in universe as well

Charlie describing the kian monster as “the thing that once was kian stone” numerous times is like… insane to me /pos. Because yeah, it really was. It was kian. It wasnt the original, but it was as much kian as rolan was rolan. And they couldnt forget that even if it would have been easier to

Okay sure focusing on keeperschampion for a second I GUESS (/silly i promise i love them) rolan jumping in front of rand? Rolan at 1 hp risking death to protect rand? He loves him so much and its so obvious and whether that’s platonic or romantic i DONT CARE they’re just so special

Kian’s corpse and coming back and shit… god i just so desperately need to understand how aware the corpses are. Because they’re not fully dead. Charlie makes that very clear, they pulse and move and even if they could never be described as alive anymore, they are not dead either. And him describing the sound kian makes as “pleading”? God fucking ow

Rand giving Kian his jacket… Rand hugging Kian… god ow ow OW /pos

Okay to be. Somewhat salty for a second. It genuinely feels like some bitb fans just did not actually listen to episode four with how they treat kian. Like its insane to me that people are able to reduce his character to just comedic relief rockstar or whatever when he lied to his friends for over a decade so they wouldnt think differently of him and you dont even need to read into that too deeply to see the self hatred and trust issues that clearly implies, and. Listen. Keeperschampion fans. I get you. I get it. But PLEASE give some attention to Kian still??? Like he’s 1. Canonically bisexual and 2. CANONICALLY HAS A THING FOR ROLAN. Like that’s not. How can you write a queer bitb story and ignore those facts? I dont get it. Like i just dont. Okay rant over i swear i love rand and rolan and i think keeperschampion is a wonderful ship im just so tired of kian being constantly overlooked

Anyways yes most of these will focus on kian what did you expect. Kian hoping to find some kind of answers or help from religion when everything is happening. Like yes he turner to brother niles (is that how you spell that name idk) was because he was like more stable than most others but /still/. That guy has NOT gotten over being raised by cultist parents and it absolutely still affects his worldview even if he probably wishes it didn’t

Also i use the above as proof that whatever cult kians parents are in is a christian one. Like. Obviously not very traditional since hippies but still. I also just really want to go with that since i feel like the default assumption for most people is that theyre like wicca or neo-pagan or something similar and im just. Im so tired of paganism being the default cult religion in media. Like. Please. I just want to worship aphrodite and finnish nature spirits in peace without my religion being constantly combined with cults and shit. Well shit i went on another rant. Sorry guys i swear i dont mean to be this negative all the time sometimes shit just happens

I want to write an extremely painful hurt no comfort fic of kian getting caught and killed by the creatures while escaping from the community house.. i want to write it so bad…

Rolan sacrificing himself for rand AGAIN. Like bro we get it youre suicidal and in love with your best friends fucking chill

The encounter with the queen… rand planning to fucking suicide bomb her, it pretending to be rachel (at least thats how I interpreted it) to manipulate rand, the hive just being a hivemind of ecofascists, kian just fucking exploding, Rolan sacrificing himself for rand AGAIN AGAIN, the end god the end rand and rachel “you changed” “you didn’t”… pain

Thats. Probably it. Yeah. Im feeling fine and will now go lie down for an hour to process things (and. Maybe. Afterwards. I will write something because i have way too much inspiration)

[thesherrinfordfacility]

25 lazarii

so ive been thinking on neils ask and answer about the joint miracle crowley and aziraphale performed. now the way it could read is that the two didn't used to have the power of resurrection/power that is capable of resurrection, but now they do. but could also read that they didn't (as is, retrospectively from now) have the power, because it doesn't belong to them. it's this latter possibility that im going to look at because honestly? the whole thing feels to me a bit OP.

so i realise that it's not necessarily about resurrection as an act, but instead the potential to resurrect. regardless, im going to start from key moments of resurrection as a marker for their abilities:

first notion we have in s1, exactly as neil remarks, is aziraphale is able to revive a dove after warlock's birthday party. originally, this was crowley in the book (and was reportedly swapped for blocking reasons), so im going by the show only in this post to keep consistency:

and this is supported by crowley intimating in the resurrectionist minisode that aziraphale was too late to save morag - that he could only have helped when she was still alive but instead she died whilst aziraphale was dithering:

in fact, to me, the only time i can recall in GO (ie shout at me if wrong) we see anyone successfully resurrected is by adam, and this is marked by the reappearance of my beloved lesley, the international express delivery man:

"Adam had rebooted reality... people who were dead were now alive, and things that were broken were miraculously restored."

the only issue appears to be that crowley now seems to be able to exercise a power of resurrection in s2, where he appears to 'bring back' mr brown, and do so rather confidently as if he always had this kind of power...

this confidence would mirror what he says to shax, here:

although, whilst it may be implied that mr brown was killed by the demon, we only truly see him being hurtled through the air. and, whilst crowley appears to bluff that demons can't hurt humans directly, shax appears to believe him.

now, she could have just come to the resolution that they ought to kill mr brown anyway, rules (fake or not) be damned, but the fact that we don't actually see his death intimates that shax might have just toed the line (the demons yeeted him across the street, but was he technically hurt/killed? was shax responding with her own bluff when saying, "civilian casualty"?)

edit 21/08 - IM SMUG

ergo: was mr brown truly killed in the first place, and therefore did crowley truly resurrect him? i think the majority of people are going to say yes, and i would initially agree, but then we come to the below where crowley appears to have riddled it out:

now it could be a case of s2 giving us the 'what' (they are insanely powerful when working together), but the 'why' (eg. power of being essentially soulmates, love, two halves of the same whole etc.) is what is going to be determined in s3.

but the conclusion that crowley came to (and im thinking entirely with critical-noggin-topped-by-tinfoil-hat head on here) feels a bit odd in the sense that it would be that simple, and doubly-odd that at this point narratively - the series that is meant to set up s3 - that the answer would be given here.

it is a parallel to the fact that crowley and aziraphale seem to work best in cohesion - their body swap proved that somewhat - and the miracle is another example of where working together does work, but neither of them are at the character-development point yet of actually recognising it for what it is and means.

it's definitely the romantic, poetic option - that they are powerful because they do it together - and for that reason i definitely think there's some truth to it, but one of the vibes i got from s2 from multiple set pieces is that things are not initially as they seem. a couple of those things appear to have been resolved (gabriel/beelzebub, for example) but there are a load of chekhov's guns left lying around the metaphorical armoury, and i have to wonder if this is one that we all thought was decommissioned.

i want to also add that the gabriel miracle, in terms of set up, directly mirrors the facing down of satan. a key difference is that in s1, they are holding hands with the literal son of satan, whereas in s2, they are holding hands with a former archangel that doesn't appear to have any power whatsoever:

now, a miracle wasn't performed in the airfield scene (as far as we saw anyway, but potentially not counting adam's ability to retcon papa-dear), but this is directly after aziraphale names adam as 'human incarnate.' furthermore, this incredibly astute observation on the power of names by @rudeaziraphale highlights that adam, by definition of his given name, is meant to be human incarnate, and always was. and then we take into account crowley's line at the end of s1:

"For my money, the really big one is all of us, against all of them."

"What? Heaven and hell, against... humanity?"

so actually, is this what the miracle comes down to? that the power they exhibited is not just crowley and aziraphale together, but them, and humanity binding them together? crowley and aziraphale were always meant to be the same character - we know this from when neil has talked about the initial drafts he sent to terry - but actually are they truly whole without the entity that made them, influenced them, into who and what they are now?

the last thing i'll note is neil's earlier march ask here, which indicates that to bring someone back from the dead is a 'heavier weight than they could lift'. that may well just simply reference that together they could do it, absolutely, but i have to wonder if there is a secret third ingredient in the mix as well.

[specialstay]

[05:35am]

very angsty with some self-doubt, him being very distant

This feeling in your chest again. Burning with pain and somewhat with love. Love hidden underneath a layer of disgust, pain and confusion.

Disgusted at yourself for still plaing his game, listening to his cards and words who seemingly have no intentions in making you feel loved nor wanted at this moment.

Pain because a part of you still sees him as your loving boyfriend who once would never hurt you in any kind of way, who would hold the door for you in pouring rain and would always make sure that you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

Confusion for his actions and words he has said to your face, ignoring how much he hurts you and ignoring the tears that make your face shimmer in the moonlight.

You didnt know how to react in situations like these. A part of you knows that hes not really feeling this way when he says that you dont matter to him right now, when he says that he wants to be alone right now and when he says that he doesnt care about anyhthing right now.

Right now...

Those two words that you hated at this point in your relationship.

Because yes, right now you dont want the leftover chicken in the fridge but throwing it away would be stupid because you were already planning on eating it for luch, but not right now.

Has he no sense for the future?

"Im getting sick of this" you finally say after hours of silence in your shared apartment.

"Aha" was the only response you got and he didnt even look up from his phone, nothing new when he was mad.

"I did nothing to deserve this. I did nothing wrong and I'm very much able to look objectively on a situation and acknowledge a mistake of mine" you said a little louder but you never screamed. Anger wont help your situation and would only make it worse.

To no surprise you didnt get an answer which only made you angrier. But who can blame you?

"I only told you "good morning, " but apparently, that was enough to make you mad again, and im really running out of options and patience here! Tell me, what was it this time? Was my morning breath so bad? Was there not enough toilet paper in the bathroom today?" You couldn't help the sarcastic comment, but at least you never shouted at him.

His eyes showed pure annoyance, and he doesn't even have to look you in the eyes for you to see that. You were considered a lucky start if he looked you in the eyes when he was mad.

"I dont wanna talk" was a surprisingly long answer for his circumstances but not long enough for you to be satisfied. Angry you stood up from the couch were the both of you were just sitting on and went to the kitchen.

Maybe going to your moms house for a few days was a good option for now.

"You never wanna talk, it's eating me alive! I did nothing but the best for you the past few weeks, i was always silent when you were angry because of some bullshit and I'm always hoping for you to be you again! Im hoping that the old you comes back, the one i fell in love with" you said loud enough for him to hear in the living room, you knew exactly that he never looked up once since you left the room.

"The old me is gone! The "one you fell in love with" is fucking gone and he wont come back" he finally answered while you grab your keys and coat. "No he is not! He is just hidden beneath all that self hate of yours and has trouble coming back, trouble i cant help with!" You finally shout now and unlock the front door, your heart screaming to go back inside, hug and kiss him until you both find a solution and finally fall alseep in his arms like you used to.

But your brain is telling you to go outside that door, leave him here and potentially risk your relationship and leave all the good memories you both have behind, just like leaving him behind on that couch.

Would he even care?

Would he even care now that youre about to leave this appointment?

Care about you and your feelings?