#it’s buck’s probably extremely high pain tolerance

[fruitydiaz-archived]

“evan i don’t know what you expected us to do!” “love me anyway.” -> “because, evan, you came in here the other day and said you thought it would’ve been better if it had been you who was shot. you act like you’re expendable. but you’re wrong”

[red-doll-face]

I just found your blog and I LOVE IT.

If I might ask: What’s your saddest dbd headcanons (killers or survivors)

Call me crazy, but I must know! ❤️

Ohh this one was a good one but it hurt me so badddd, ahhh. I’m glad to share , I have some bad dbd brain rot lmaooo I didn’t do every character so I hope these are ok 🥺 these are a bit long too

Sad Dead by Daylight Hcs

Claudette Morel:

Claudette is one of the criers. Probably cries while getting mori’d and can't help the tears during the really bad matches. Her pain tolerance isn’t very high, hence the willingness to waste time healing herself if it means she can stop being in so much pain.

Meg Thomas:

Spends time alone thinking about her past life. Her mother is a subject that makes her really frustrated. People mentioning their moms makes her a little standoffish. Wishes she had a chance to say goodbye in some way.

Ace Visconti:

Ace doesn't have much family to even miss him. He wonders if they noticed he’s gone or hasn’t come back. Maybe they think he hit big bucks and left them behind. Ace is stuck really. Even if he were to go back, he’d be dead or working off his debt.

Feng Min:

Gets super mad when she loses, it makes her so angry that she doesn’t control the trials. She blames other people for her losses but actually is very critical of herself. Casts the blame on others so she doesn't have to face her own mistakes.

David King:

All of his perks are about putting his ass on the line for his teammates yet everyone seems to think he’s selfish and a dumb brute. David doesn't know what to do to be more approachable; genuinely wants to be seen as a friend.

Laurie Strode:

Laurie never got the chance to mourn her friends. She thought she won. Finding out she’ll never truly escape Michael or be able to forget him makes her so mad. When she gets Michael in trials she makes sure the glass in her pocket is extra jagged and serrated.

Jane Romero:

Jane only wanted recognition and acknowledgement. Everything she's worked so hard for feels like a waste for her now. She should have spent more time on herself or with her father. Jane feels like she has no purpose anymore besides running and screaming for the enjoyment of the entity.

Yui Kimura:

Yui can’t stand the Clown or the Stealth Killers. Reminds her of bad memories. When she loses against killers like ghostface, she is especially angry.Her fighting spirit can’t help her actually get back at them.

Zarina Kassir:

Spent so much time fighting inequality only to spend the rest of her life where the odds are never in favor of the survivors. Where the oppressed are destined to lose. Each one of the people is subjugated, both killer and survivor and there's nothing she can do to free them.

Cheryl Mason:

She's been through literal hell and back just to end up in a weird recurring nightmare. At least Silent Hill had an escape. She's killed a god and somehow someone her size with a boxcutter can kill her? Huh.

Élodie Rakoto:

Feels guilty over the loss of her parents and feels extremely disillusioned by this realm. It's so much more boring than she thought it would be. All of her searching and traveling was not worth this shithole.

Steve Harrington:

Steve, though 18, is very much still a kid. Steve is naive about certain things and his optimism gets chipped away at a lot. Wasn’t too enthusiastic at having to care or look after Dustin and his friends but misses having people to protect.

Jeff Johannson:

Someone who definitely ends up taking hooks for people and ends up dying. Has a reputation among the killers as a survivor who is easy to leverage during the endgame because he will try for that save.

Kate Denson:

Feels very lucky to even have her guitar. The other survivors didn't get to bring many things with them. Makes her feel a little bad when she Often feels too worn out and exhausted by the trials to play it.

Quentin Smith:

Unfortunately stuck in pseudo-hell with his abuser. Gets really anxious against Freddy. Leans on his fellow survivors. Will sometimes accidentally bring Freddy to others in an attempt to get Freddy the hell away for him.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan:

Actually has tried on numerous occasions to remove the metal rods and shrapnel embedded in his skin. It hurts like hell and just when he thinks he’s got it, he loses grip. These attempts never work.

Philip ‘The Wraith’ Ojomo:

When he’s alone, Philip will try and talk to himself. His vocal cords are warped, his voice a scratchy growl and garbled gurgle. He remembers what he used to sound like but he tries talking less and less.

Max ‘The Hillbilly’ Thompson Jr.:

Besides being named after someone who locked him away for most of his life? Max has to rest a lot between trials. The constant movement puts strain on him and causes him dull pain. His back causes him a lot of grief. The Entity is barely merciful.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers:

Meant to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew of him and he knows it. Loomis, after deciding that Michael couldn't be ‘fixed’ just hoped that the system would swallow him. If it weren't for the entity, Michael knows he'd either be dead or caught and back with Loomis.

Bubba ‘The Cannibal’ Sawyer:

Used to be one of the nicer killers to go against and might have been sweet to certain survivors who deserved kindness. But the Entity punished him for it. Bubba isn't very nice anymore. Probably a little meaner to avoid being in trouble again.

Amanda ‘The Pig’ Young:

Another one down to give second chances, much like the second chance she saw in John Kramer. Doesn’t do this a lot however, therefore escaping the ire of the Entity. She’s spent a lifetime hurting others emotionally and physically. Now, she’ll spend an eternity.

Rin ‘The Spirit’ Yamaoka:

The pain and anguish is so heavy but time is no cure in a place where time is nonexistent. No happiness to replace her rage. Especially in a place where her anger is a weapon for a greater power. Also has tried to pull the glass out of her skin and press her limbs back together. Can’t stand to see herself in the mirror.

Adiris ‘The Plague’:

Her body is always on the precipice of falling apart. Her skin rots; her flesh aches and feels like it will tear away at any moment. She is immortalized yet so close to death. Her body hurts so much but she has a purpose to serve. (makes me even sadder bc jannneeeee my mainnnnn😔)

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka:

Misses his son. Never got to see him grow up, considering he;s already met his descendant. Proud from a distance because that's all he can be. The beginning of something so angry that it passes down his family line.

Caleb ‘The Deathslinger’ Quinn

During his life, was under the control of people who made him work for their gain who used him. The Entity emphasizes the killers as a position of power but Caleb does much of the same here. Works and works. Never for himself.

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’:

His existence has always included pain. He’s not quite sure what it’s like without it. He’s made several efforts to take the pyramid off. It pulls painfully at his neck. Makes awful groaning noises and roars.

Ji-Woon ‘The Trickster’ Hak:

Has never been much more than entertainment for other people since he was a child. Never expected to be much more. To the point that now, if he doesn't feel impressive in some way, he feels incomplete. The entity is his way to really indulge his ‘true artistry’.

Yun-Jin Lee:

A bit selfish when it comes to surviving. A few people around the campfire dont like her for that reason. Some of the meaner people will even leave her behind because they remember all of the times Yun-Jin might have done something similar.

Thanks for reading!!! I’m sorry I don’t post often but I have Shit ton of hw and I recently started a new project sooo ya know 💖💖💖

[chaotic-neutral-toga]

i’ve spent the entire time since my last post on this and holy fuck i want to fall into a coma

um okay i just thought up a zodiac based story plot thing and uyvbuhyb

okay so there’s this god-like thing but not exactly gods, i guess the “souls” of concepts, maybe?? so like those ones are infinite, not really but like they are, it’s confusing on purpose, but the zodiac are one of a kind each, Thing is they’re kinda destructive. Some do it because they can/want to, some do it because they don’t understand what’s wrong with it (they weren’t really ‘disciplined” or “taught”, so morality is kinda lost on them), and some are more kind, but still dangerous. In classic story fashion, they get sent down to the human world to become accustomed to morals, ethics, and just having a more grounded life. anyway characters

Pisces is autistic (yes im projecting a little) and destruction was the her way of stimming (other than snuggling in a hug with someone). When she gets to Earth, she does things that are “weird” to humans, since out of all of the zodiacs, she has the hardest time grasping the concept of the human world besides stuff she already knew(water and other stuff her sign rules). She’s fairly kind and compassionate, but has no tolerance for liars or anyone that gets on her bad side, which is a side even Aries sweats over. She likes puns (once they’re explained to her), and never understands innuendos or dirty jokes unless they’re really obvious. [Colors for her design: Mauve, Lilac, Violet, Sea Green. Closest Relationships: Virgo and Taurus. Human Name: Clementine.] Panromantic Demisexual

Aries is a bit reckless/destructive, to the point of idiotic sometimes, but he really does have the best intentions with most things he does. You can’t really blame someone for not knowing what they shouldn't do when they were never taught they had limits or boundaries that could be pushed. He can be bossy at times, but it’s usually because he knows his fellow Zodiacs well, and he can tell when they need someone to tell them what to do before they end up arguing over different ideas. Fire is the element he rules over, therefore it was one of the few human concepts he knew, so he took a quick liking to smores; it’s a sweet thing made over fire, what’s not to love? When he’s not riled up over something, he’s just a really passionate and affectionate friend. He identifies as an Androgynous Trigender, sometimes feeling like a boy, sometimes a girl, and sometimes agender, while preferring to use he/him pronouns. [Colors for his design: Red why the fuck does he only get 1 color wtf is this inequality. Closest Relationships: Libra and Leo. Human Name: Everett.] Aromantic Asexual(will kiss the homies uwu)

Taurus is pretty calm, but they can and will destroy you(verbally). They speak their mind and try their best to be honest, even if the truth is painful or undesirable. When dealing with problems, he keeps a straight face(facade or not), but lets his emotions out when it’s over (aka pouting as Cancer give them calming head pats). Because they’re one of the only ones who took to cooking (and one of the quickest to become relatively easily-adjusted to Earth), at times, they tend to be in a sort of parental role when interacting with the others. They can get frustrated with too much stress (aka more calming head pats), but they can usually work through it well enough. When it comes to love, he becomes flustered surprisingly easy, though this is technically hypothetical, as they haven’t encountered any romantic situations yet. Upon coming to Earth, Taurus discovered he’s allergic to reptiles, especially snakes, which makes his friendship with Scorpio, who will not give up his precious boop noodle, a bit rocky. He uses he/they pronouns. [Colors for his design: Green, Pink. Closest Relationships: Scorpio and Cancer. Human Name: Beau, pronounced Bo.] Gay

Gemini was probably the most optimistic of the bunch when they were first sent to Earth; she isn’t reckless, but she does live for the thrill. She has fun watching drama as long as it’s just harmless bickering, and she’ll stop any serious fights. She's a bit slow at reading the air sometimes, which is one of the few things that make her feel insecure. Even if she comes off as prideful or uncaring, she truly does treasure all her friends, and would move mountains for them. She is an ADHD Lesbian, so she has the awful pun of GA(Y)DHD. [Colors for her design: Light-Green, Yellow. Closest Relationships: Sagittarius and Aquarius. Human Name: Mikaela.] Lesbian

Virgo has a somewhat obvious crush on Pisces- not everyone knows, but it’s not rocket science for the observant ones- and Pisces thinks he’s just being a really great friend.(Virgo: I am stoic and distant and won’t open my heart to anyone. Pisces: Hi! Virgo: FUCK-). It’s easy for him to stress or obsess over something, and not give himself any room for imperfection. He’s one of the less outwardly destructive zodiacs, but internally, he tries to do too much and puts too much pressure on himself, which is never a good thing to do. Sometimes due to stress, he’ll isolate himself for a bit, but he gets very touch-starved very easily.. which makes it even more confusing how the snugly Pisces doesn't notice his feelings. [Colors for his design: Grey, Beige, Pale-Yellow. Closest Relationships: Pisces and Cancer. Human Name: Ezra.] get em boys, we found a Hetero

Libra is a quiet one, usually collecting information from afar before interjecting. He likes being helpful since he’s aware that he sometimes overthinks interaction. Asking him questions can be confusing, as he usually answers with simple “yes”’s and “no”’s. He enjoys reading fairytales; no real reason, he just likes them. He has Sensory Processing Disorder, which simultaneously makes him the dad and the baby of the group. [Colors for his design: Pink, Green. Closest Relationships: Aries and Sagittarius. Human Name: Libra, which is luckily an actual greek name.] Bi

Leo is a rowdy girl to say the least. She’s loves just horsing around with her friends, usually in the manner of play-fighting and tackle hugs. If you didn’t guess, she’s one of the more destructive Zodiacs, even on Earth. She denies ever doing things when confronted, though it doesn’t work most of the time (”Whaaat, I didn’t break that vase, that was Aries, right bro?” “Hey, don’t pin this on me!” “BRO-”). She is extremely loyal to the people she cares for, which could cross into naivety if she chose the wrong person as her friend. While she definitely isn't the motherly type, if one of her friends really needs to be comforted, she’ll sit them on her lap and stroke their head(she stronk owo). Though normally upbeat, she becomes somber in grim-looking situations, to the point of pessimistic. [Colors for her design: Gold, Yellow, Orange. Closest Relationships: Aquarius and Gemini. Human Name: Amaterasu.] Demiromantic Asexual

Scorpio has a pet boop noodle(baby ball python) that he almost stole before Taurus payed for it, which is when they discovered Taurus is allergic. They’re an overall cold and distant person, but they’re not completely shut-off; they just have a hard time warming up to people. Because of this, he holds grudges for a long time when his carefully-placed trust is betrayed. He seems to sometimes just appear and disappear during discussions with anyone noticing until he suddenly speaks up or they want to talk to him(spoiler alert: he’s just quiet). He’s very cute and peaceful when sleeping. [Colors for his design: Scarlet, Red, Rust. Closest Relationships: Taurus and Cancer. Human Name: Phoenix.] Arospike Aceflux

Cancer is very much a big sister to most, if not all, the Zodiacs. She has a caring air about her and can adjust to suit the boundaries of her friends. She herself is quite sensitive- though no one’s ever seen her like that- and she never wants her friends to feel that way. Besides that, she takes great interest in human pleasantries, such as sweet food, cameras, and lullabies. While she prefers to be the mediator during fights, if someone, say, insulted her friend and wouldn’t back off, she would lash back with a stone cold fury; the shock value alone gives her an advantage in those situations. [Colors for her design: White again with only one color wtf im adding my own, Pale-Orange, Various Yellows. Closest Relationships: Capricorn and Taurus. Human Name: June.] Questioning Asexual

Sagittarius is one of those aggressively positive people, saying what they want with no filter. They don’t take any shit from anyone, no matter who they are. She’s very free-spirited, but she’s not unguided; she knows what she wants and when she wants it. She’s never really hurt by anything, brushing and laughing things off almost immediately. She can get quite impatient, to the point of childishly whining. I’d bet 50 bucks that she was the first Zodiac to “discover” alcohol. [Colors for her design: Blue, Deep Purples, Browns. Closest Relationships: Gemini and Aries. Human Name: Nova.] Butch Grey-Aromantic Homosexual/Femmesexual

Aquarius is an analytical and selfless individual. They approach solutions to situations practically and objectively, even if their heart tells them otherwise. They keep their emotions bottled up most of the time, and if they’re doing something, there’s a high chance they’re doing it for someone else. Before, that was okay, since it was just the Zodiacs; but on Earth, it makes her a bit of a doormat. She’s one of the more morally-misguided Zodiacs, and she can’t really identify when something is criminal. She has a hard time remembering that she can’t say things like “human pleasantries” or call people insignificant compared to herself. They like being alone a lot, but they’re not antisocial. [Colors for her design: Light-Blue, Silver. Closest Relationships: Leo and Sagittarius. Human Name: Aqua no she did not try.] Aromantic Asexual(will not kiss the homies u~u)

Capricorn is pretty much “i’m surrounded by idiots”, but they’re his idiots and he knows he loves them. He doesn't look anything special, but he can and will throw you across the room if you fuck with him or his idiots, especially when he’s tired. He is peak sarcastic bitch and has pretty solid bullshit detector. If one of the Zodiacs is asleep where they shouldn’t be or they’re just leaving somewhere, he usually hoists them over his shoulder. He’s generally reserved but the Hug Pile™, or really extreme amounts of platonic affection in general, make him really soft; half because he’s surprised that they honestly care for him that much. [Colors for his design: Brown, Black, Grey, Yellow, Yellow-Orange. Closest Relationships: Taurus and Cancer. Human Name: Kai.] Aromantic Asexual(will be kissed by the homies owo)

holy fukcing shit is that it. am i finally fucking done. oh sweet jesus im crying this took me so fucking long

sorry if anyone was worried about me, i’m fine. Art, drabbles, and headcanons for this are allowed, but please link this post and/or tag me(or just send it in asks). i’ll try to be productive on this, tho itll probably be in the form of mini scenarios and incorrect quotes.

Here are the songs that kept me from kms while i made this: Lost One’s Weeping by Neru, Namine Ritsu-Error by kyaami, Yukune Ruko-I Don’t Wanna Know by Narcissus, Nakakapagpabagabag by Dasu, Madness of Duke Venomania Eng Sub by IkuSuperbia, v flower-Close to You by kyaami, My Nocturnal Serenade by YOHIO, Len’s Growl-Ghost Rule by Teto Chan!, Fukase English-Never Gonna Give You Up, Fukase English-Your Reality.

pls feed me validation on this i tried so hard my brain hurts

[hot-wiings]

Helpless - Hamilton Musical 

Tip Jar 

[Edited: 10-21-19]

Ohh, I do, I do, I do I Dooo! Hey! Ohh, I do, I do, I do I Dooo! Boy, you got me. Helpless! Look into your eyes, and the sky’s the limit. I’m helpless! Down for the count, and I’m drowning’ in ‘em. I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight. We were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night. Laughin’ at my sister as she’s dazzling the room. Then you walked in and my heart went “Boom!” Tryin’ to catch your eye from the side of the ballroom. everybody’s dancin’ and the band’s top volume. Grind to the rhythm as we wine and dine. Grab my sister, and whisper “Yo, this one’s mine.” (Oooh) My sister made her way across the room to you (Oooh) and I got nervous, thinking “What’s she gonna do?” (Oooh) She grabs you by the arm, I’m thinkin’ “I’m through” (Oooh)

Shoto Todoroki never looked to be the centre of attention. He didn’t like being in the spotlight. That was his brother Touya’s job as the oldest Todoroki sibling. Shoto being the younger brother who inherited the perfect quirk had one job. His job was to train and surpass All Might’s power.

Shoto never imagined he would feel romantic feelings for someone. Spending his life training with his father he was never allowed to frolic with girls. He was barely allowed around his siblings. The thought of meeting someone he’d grow to love was impossible. Someone he could appreciate. Someone whom he could share touches and intimate moments. It was an impossible thought until he met you.

Japan had gone up against a powerful group of villains. Far too hard for Japan alone. They had to enlist help from heroes in America. That’s where you came from. A great healer from America. You were a great asset in the battle. Your quirk surpassing that of Recovery Girls.

After the battle, Enji Todoroki invited everyone to his mansion for a celebratory dinner. A ball of sorts. Although Shoto suspected it was just an excuse to show him off. He was now out of UA and he would soon be embarking on his journey as a hero. This would be a perfect chance to put himself out there. Make some connections and allies. However, Enji had an ulterior motive of setting up Shoto into a marriage with a bride of his choosing.

Don’t get him wrong. Shoto would have no issue getting a wife on his own. But his father would only accept a girl with a quirk of a high calibre. A girl who would breed a good child with many children. Children whose quirks would have fire, ice and a third quirk. The ultimate hero.

Shoto watched you move throughout the room. Smiling and laughing with the others you had fought beside. You captivated him. Never did a girl catch his eye like you. Shoto never craved a girl like he craved you. He wanted you in ways which a man wanted a woman. He felt helplessly in love. Helpless over a woman he didn’t even know the name of.

Shoto tried getting your attention. He walked by you multiple times. Softest smile directed towards you. You didn’t look over to him once. He never tried to catch the eye of a woman before. How was he supposed to go about with this? All throughout his UA days, he never tried getting with someone. How did you flirt? Should he have prepared some pick-up lines?  

Shoto watched as you talked with Touya, his brother. Conversing with soft smiles. Of course, Touya was older and more experienced. Perhaps he should ask his brother for advice. Touya probably knew how to woo women

Shoto waited until Touya left your presence to grab a drink. He walked over and grabbed his brothers arm, gaining Touya’s attention. Their practically matching eyes pierced each other.

“Who’s that girl?"

Touya softly smiled in your direction.

”[Y/N] [L/N]. She has a healing quirk. It’s better than Recovery Girl’s quirk.“

Had Shoto not been so helpless for you, he would have noticed the longing look in his older brothers eyes. But Shoto never saw it.

"She’s beautiful. How do I talk to her?”

Touya bit his lip and lightly chuckled at his awkward little brother. Touya walked over to you. He lightly tapped your arm to catch your attention. Giving you a smile as you turn around to meet his eyes for the second time that night.

“Hey.”

“Hello again!"

He grabs your hand, taking note of how soft it feels. He imagined you probably used lotion. Probably the scented kind.

"Where are you taking me?”

“I’m about to change your life."

"Then, by all means, lead the way.”

He was truly changing your life by introducing you to his younger brother and giving you leeway and entrance to the Todoroki family.

“Shoto Todoroki, a pleasure to meet you."

Shoto grabs your soft warm hand into his cold one and kisses it. Kisses it the way a gentleman would. He was working on charming you.

"Todoroki?”

“My little brother, he’s fresh out of UA."

"Unfortunately, I myself could not fight in the battle due to being in UA. But I would like to thank you and your fellow American’s for fighting. You fought greatly.”

A blush spread across your cheeks.

“Meeting you makes it worthwhile."

Touya watched with a soft smile as you and Shoto got acquainted and flirted. It was the most he saw Shoto smile in his whole life.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Then you look back at me and suddenly I’m Helpless! Look into your eyes, (Oh, look at those eyes, ) And the sky’s the limit (Oh!) I’m helpless, (I know) Down for the count And I’m drownin’ in 'em. I’m helpless! (I’m so into you, ) Look into your eyes, (I am so.) And the sky’s the limit (into you.) I’m helpless! (I know, ) I’m down for the count And I’m drownin’ in 'em. Where are you taking me? I’m about to change your life. Then, by all means, lead the way. Elizabeth Schuyler. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Schuyler? My sister. Thank you for all your service If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it. I’ll leave you to it. One week later I’m writin’ a letter nightly. Now my life gets better every letter that you write, me. Laughin’ at my sister, cuz she wants to form a harem. I’m just sayin’, if you really loved me you would share him.

As the weeks went by you went back to America but contact with Shoto remained. Late-night phone calls and loving texts to each other. He was helplessly in love with you.

Touya walked into Shoto’s bedroom to find him scribbling on paper with a concentrated face. He hadn’t seen him write like this since that time he forgot to do his homework back in UA.

“What are you writing?”

“A letter to [Y/N].”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of phones?”

“I’m trying to be romantic. Besides she seems to like them.”

Touya notices some of the letters from you laying on Shoto’s desk. He picks them up and reads through them. A blush covers his cheeks before he teases Shoto.

“‘Darling, Shoto.’ So romantic. With a comma too.”

“Put them back.”

“‘I Can’t wait to see you again my turtledove, XOXO, [Y/N].’ What the fuck is a turtledove?”

“It’s a term of endearment! I think I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Touya puts the letters back.

“Marry her? You just met her.”

“She’s perfect. I’m in love.”

“I know I just- Just make sure you really want this. Marriage is a big commitment.”

Ha! Two weeks later. In the living room stressing my father’s stonefaced while you’re asking for his blessin’. I’m dying inside, as you wine and dine and I’m tryin’ not to cry, 'cause there’s nothing that your mind can’t do. (Oooh) My father makes his way across the room to you. (Oooh) I panic for a second, thinking "we’re through” (Oooh) But then he shakes your hand and says “Be true” (Oooh) And you turn back to me, smiling, and I’m Helpless! Look into your eyes and the sky’s the limit I’m Helpless! Hoo! Down for the count and I’m drownin’ in 'em I’m helpless! He’s mine, that boy is mine! Look into your eyes And the sky’s the limit I’m Helpless! Helpless! Down for the count, and I’m drownin’ in 'em Eliza, I don’t have a dollar to my name an acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame. All I have’s my honour, a tolerance for pain a couple of college credits and my top-notch brain.

Shoto anxiously paced back and forth as he waited for his father to come out of his study. He had proposed to you, which you responded with a yes. Now he had to tell his father.

“He can be an asshole.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I mean like an extreme asshole. He might not approve of you. I mean even if he doesn’t, we’re still going to get married. It would just be nice to have his approval for once.”

You put your hand on Shoto’s shoulder to stop his from pacing and give him a wide smile.

“Shoto it’s going to be okay. Your father will approve. It’s not like he hasn’t met me before.”

“You’re right. You’re right, it’s gonna be okay.

“You wanted to see me.”

His father stands tall before you making you feel small. You give a polite, courteous smile as Shoto intertwines your hands.

“Father. I’ve proposed to [Y/N], and she accepted.”

“I see.”

His judgemental eyes rake your body up and down as if he was inspecting you. Which he was. He was inspecting your worth.

It was one of the rarest times you would see it, but Enji smiled as he put his hand out for you to shake.

“You have a good quirk. You will fit my son well.”

Insane, your family brings out a different side of me Peggy confides in me, Angelica tried to take a bite of me no stress, my love for you is never in doubt. We’ll get a little place in Harlem and we’ll figure it out. I’ve been livin’ without a family since I was a child. My father left, my mother died, I grew up buck wild. But I’ll never forget my mother’s face, that was real and long as I’m alive, Eliza, swear to God, you’ll never feel so (Helpless!) I do, I do, I do, I do! Eliza… (Helpless!) I do, I do, I do, I do! I’ve never felt so- Helpless! (Hey! Yeah, yeah!) Down for the count and I’m drownin’ in 'em (Down for the count I’m) My life is gon’ be fine cuz Eliza’s in it. I look into your eyes, and the sky’s the limit I’m (Helpless!) Down for the count and I’m drownin’ in 'em. In New York, you can be a new man. in New York, you can be a new man. In New York, you can be a new man. Helpless!

Touya’s heart broke as he held the white and gold envelope. He knew what was inside. He knew he should be happy yet he didn’t want to open it. But he did. He knew he had too.

‘You are cordially invited to the holy matrimony of Shoto Todoroki and [Y/N] [L/N].’

As fast as he read it, it was turned to ash. Crumpled and destroyed in his fist by his blue flames.

Touya wanted to be happy. He was trying to be supportive. Hell, he was going to be the best man. But he couldn’t find it in his heart to be happy.

Just like Shoto, Touya was helplessly in love with you. Except Touya didn’t have you. Touya wasn’t ending up with you. He wasn’t getting his happy ending. Shoto was.

[packsbeforesnacks]

A Life Still Permanent || Solo

[Part One | Part Two | Side B]

TIMING: Saturday, February 8th, 2020, Dawn LOCATION: The Outskirts SUMMARY: You can’t keep a good wolf down. WARNINGS: References to suicide and attempt, suicidal ideation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and potentially self-harm.

Winn felt like death.

There were certain benefits to being a werewolf. Increased strength, stamina and, hell, Winn’s alcohol tolerance had improved—though some might attribute that primarily to his frat boy tendencies rather than his monthly furry problem. But he was only (mostly, kinda) human, and his body could only take so much before it decided to give up.

A quick review of Winn’s week would reveal the following events: (1) the Kansas City fuckin’ Chiefs had won the Super Bowl, (2) he’d been forced to come clean to a maybe-baby-wolf about his being a werewolf (and made an ass of himself in the process), (3) Ricky hadn’t yet confirmed he’d be willing to make Winn more barbecue, (4) Blanche was being weird, (5) he’d helped a drunk lady home (great, one good thing), (6) he’d fought a Zamboni—oh, yeah, and ghosts existed (???), and (7) so did bone-sucking literal monsters (?????), (8) multiple people in his newfound life knew about all of this and were seemingly totally chill with it, and (9) this all happened over the course of a full moon week. Because of course it fucking did. Because (10): Winn’s life was a cosmic joke.

He’d scrawled out so many angry, sad, and/or confused letters to his packmates today, enough to put a small paper mill in business. Why had they left this (huge) detail out? Was it a big secret from even him? Was he not enough of a member of the pack to know. Had everything with them been a big joke? Or, worse: Did they also not know that vampires—and, really, how fucking Twilight of the universe—existed? That people could do literal magic. How could they not know—their families had been around since forever.

And, to Winn’s absolute credit, he had been extremely down with werewolves being a thing! His best friends were werewolves! They wanted him to become a werewolf too! This was all great! Oh, there were werewolf Hunters? Wild! But it was fine! He had friends, he had a pack, he could make it through. And then, ‘course, he had to go and kill one. A Hunter, dead in a pool of blood, blood that covered Winn and César, soaked into the wood of the fraternity house, staining it. Staining them, forever. Winn didn’t regret it—how could he, César was alive, the pack was alive. But he couldn’t forgive himself either—something had changed between all of them that day, they’d all grown up in ways that maybe they wouldn’t have had to if Winn could have just kept his dick in his fucking pants for one goddamn minute.

But here he was, middle of the woods, buck-ass naked, twenty-four cans of cheap beer, a tightly packed bowl, and a half empty bottle of Maker’s Mark in his system, waiting for the full moon to come out. Waiting for the only inevitable thing in this shitcan of a week. Maybe he’d die tonight. Wouldn’t that just be a perfect end to his week? But no. He couldn’t die here, not like this, not crossfaded and self-destructive. Right? They’d never forgive him. No, he’d let the wolf out, let the wolf run free as it could be, and then Winn could think about what the fuck this all meant in the morning. Could hunt down someone—Miles, maybe?—who could actually explain this shit to him. Winn could listen. Winn would listen. It would be fine. It had to be fine.

When the moon reared its beautiful, terrible head, Winn knew something was wrong. His transformation didn’t hurt so much as it felt unbearably numb, the usual stretch and snap of his bones replaced with a dim awareness of the pit in his heart, stronger than any physical pain. He needed to let the wolf fully take control, God. He didn’t want to be in the driver’s seat tonight, thanks. But the wolf… well, it didn’t seem too comfortable about the circumstances either, if Winn was bein’ honest. It growler a little lower, ran a little slower. But still, it ran. Padding through creeks, dancing in the moonlight, reveling in the small apocalypse that Winn had been through. The wolf didn’t care about fae, or witches, or vampires, or ghosts. (And, fuck, the wolf probably knew. Asshole.) It could just be, out here in the middle of nowhere—or at least, nowhere when anyone could see him, deep in the woods on the outskirts of White Crest. Only weighed down by Winn’s cares in the nominal sense, free to push them to the back of its mind, where Winn sat, chained to his own memories.

He didn’t pay any real attention to the world around him until he could sense dawn approaching, once again. It, too, was inevitable. But this time, unlike the previous month, there was no Miles to find him, to make him feel less alone. No new wolves had come upon him either, had fought and bit and rolled with him. Winn has alone and the wolf howled, desperate for his pack. Winn stopped in a small clearing, panting heavily. Wait. Where was he? He could smell his path from the place where he’d left his jeans, but he couldn’t smell any of the characteristics of his own patch of the forest. But still, it felt… familiar. He inhaled deeply, and smelled… people? Fuck, no. No, no, no. He couldn’t have gotten this close to the town. He twisted on the spot, head cocking left and right, trying to look for a landmark, for anything that would tell him how close he was to White Crest proper, how close he was to fucking up everything. Again. Always again, back to this, back to him. Him fucking up. (Could wolves have panic attacks? Was he having a panic attack?)

Winn didn’t see the bolt coming, not until it buried itself in his front-left shoulder, immediately painful, immediately burning him with its force, with its tip. The wolf—he—screamed. It was a Hunter, come to collect Winn’s debt. A debt he deserved to pay with his life. No. No. It was a Hunter. And Winn was the prey. He had to think like himself—like the wolf knew how to. Or else, he was dead. He was so, so dead. The bolt had been shot from above, based on the way it had lodged itself into Winn, that angle… from somewhere in the trees in this clearing. Pretty high, he hoped. And there was hope. The wolf would fight and bleed until its last, so Winn turned, fully at one with himself, and leapt back down the path towards his home, towards his tree, towards anything that would get him away. He thought—maybe—he had just enough time. He could get back to his jeans, find a spot to hide, escape certain death.

But every smack of his paws against the earth, every push downward into the dirt, was another surge of lightning and fire in his shoulder. Winn knew silver. Knew how it from that time, all those years ago, when a silver dagger had buried itself in his back, how the burn peeled away at your innards, rotting you from the inside. Knew it from the time he’d held that same dagger in his hand. Winn knew that, if left untreated, he wouldn’t live long enough to find out who the fuck had shot him. To eliminate the threat. Getting away wasn’t just a decision for his survival, it was now a race against the clock. Winn had to get to the tree, get his jeans, run back towards the hospital, against the dawn, all while trying not to let the Hunter find his path once he finally lost him.

He heard running water, and bolted towards it. He knew these woods, now, knew that there were old, waterlogged trees that wanted to fall, and die, that were trying to make way for new forest. He shoved himself against any tree that looked suspect, his nose telling him that the Hunter was still close on his tail. Another bolt zinged past Winn as he zig-zagged through the forest, and lodged itself in one such tree with a deadly thunk. Fuck. Fuck. The creek—please, fucking please be a wide section—was close now, the rush of water music to his ears. Was he going to get lucky this morning? If he lost the Hunter at the river, he could circle wide and get to his jeans, spiral back and out the hospital. He just needed one good distraction for the crazy person with the crossbow.

It appeared before him like a vision, like a hallucination brought on by the pain from the silver, but Winn knew that it wasn’t, knew that this was the tree that he needed to shove, to crack, to let fall in the Hunter’s path. And damn him, but Winn didn’t want to hit the bastard, just get in his way. The tree was big, a mess of tangled branches at the top and leaves still clinging on, but Winn could be bigger. He circled around the tree, precious seconds ticking by, and rammed his good shoulder into it. Crack. C’mon, c’mon. An arrow thunked into the tree. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Another slam, another shove, and the tree went tumbling down. Not directly, not straight into the Hunter’s face, but firm enough, deep enough, that it would cut him off. Winn hoped. Winn prayed. He didn’t want to die.

He bounded into the river, icy water soothing his spirit a little, even as he reminded himself that he had to keep going, and going, and that he couldn’t stop. Winn ran fast, only using his nose to gauge if the Hunter had been lost, but not slowing down for a second even when Winn confirmed, shit, thank fuck, he’d managed to lose the Hunter in his tree tricks. The last of the moon’s light was fading as the sun breached the sky, but Winn knew that he wouldn’t change back this time, not unless he was safe, not unless he wanted to. He came upon his hollowed tree, yanked his pants away from where he’d hung them and clenched them between his teeth as gently as he could manage. Hospital. Hospital, now.

A voice echoed in Winn’s ears: What’re you going to live for?

He didn’t know yet, but… he wanted to live. And so he ran.

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

The ‘I hate Tony Stark’ Club

Summary: Bucky & Steve, childhood best friends, have been living together for a while now after being separated at the end of high-school. Together again, they’ve been maneuvering through their twenties. And through new relationships when Steve found his way to Tony Stark, another old classmate.  

While making some changes to his room, Bucky discovers a box of middle school memories. The old photos are hilarious but the real amazing finds are the old notebooks he and Steve used to pass around during class. 

It’s time they rediscover being the founding members of the good ol’ ‘I hate Tony Stark’ club during their sixth grade year. 

Ships: Stony, Sambucky 

Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,907

It all started during the week when Bucky’s bed was slowly deteriorating and had lost all sense of comfort. The mattress was cheap...he remembered buying it at a garage sale when he was first moving in with Steve. Of course, he had neglected to listen to his friends protests against it at the time because he felt it was a total steal. 

But now the thing was torn and springs were popping out from odd places and scratching the hell out of his skin at night. He waited it out for another week before deciding it was time to get that piece of shit replaced. 

So, Sunday morning found Bucky pulling the damn thing off his bed-frame while a new one sat waiting on his floor. This one had been cheap too but at the very least it had a brand-name on the tag and didn’t come used from someone’s bedroom just the day before. So that was a good sign. 

The mattress plopped onto the hardwood but as he was about to start settling in the new one, he spotted a plastic bin or two under his bed-frame. “I store shit under my bed?” He raised a brow because...’Since when?’. He was entirely sure by just looking at the neat boxes that Steve had gotten sick of him throwing his stuff in the hall closet & had just shoved them under the bed for him. He rolled his eyes but sat down on his floor to take a look, shoving his mattress out of the way. 

There were two boxes. But crumpled up against the side of the blue lid bin was a small, grainy photo that ignited Bucky’s interest in an instant so he slid that one between his legs. 

‘Oh God’. Middle school. Of course. He recognized his sixth grade classroom astoundingly fast considering he hadn’t seen it in a long time.  But this was the funniest Goddamn picture he’d ever seen in his life and he was dying to show it off.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His first instinct was to show it to Sam. 

Sam and Steve supposedly met in college through some program. And that lead to them working together. Steve says they had hit it off since the beginning. In all honesty, Bucky didn’t like it at first. Not for any weird reason. Just that growing up...Steve had been his only friend. Best friend. So there was some jealousy there on his part when he came back into Steve’s life to find him with a new ‘best’ friend. But things changed. He and Sam found a little rhythm for a friendship...at least he hoped that’s what they had. Sometimes, he was sure they just tolerated each other. 

Bucky happily strolled into the coffee shop with a wide grin plastered on his face that might’ve been a little unusual. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam took once glance and was struck by the giddiness within his friend. Bucky was usually a little bit more reserved when it came to his emotions but at the moment, he was probably a minute away from skipping. 

Steve and Tony took the time to actually look up from their...intense conversation at Sam’s comment. They looked as if they’d been pulled from something extremely intimate judging by Steve’s blush. Bucky wondered how Steve’s bed was holding up. 

His eyes fell upon Steve’s and he couldn’t hide his little smirk.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Instead of answering him, Bucky took his usual seat next to Sam (pulling the chair a little closer). He then made a show of holding up the photo, the back facing towards his lovely audience while Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.” He snatched the photo to get a better look and started uncontrollably laughing. It pressed Steve intensely when he wasn’t in on a joke...especially if it was about him. “Can I keep this picture?” Sam wiped under his eyes and held the photo against his chest. Bucky grinned even wider, it was just the reaction he’d hoped for. 

“Let us in on the joke, Greasy.” Tony threw one of his charming little smiles their way and pulled himself out of his odd slouched way of sitting. The man had excellent posture on most days but sometimes he’d fold himself up in a way that looked painful but apparently was totally comfortable for him. He pat Steve’s thigh gently. 

Sam turned over the hysterical little thing. 

“That is...stunning. Honestly.” Tony lit up in that way one does when they see something so embarrassing for someone else. Steve just looked at it with all the love in his heart. 

The photo was of Bucky and Steve when they were just kids. Opposites. So painfully obvious...that it dripped from that photo. 

Steve, in all his glory, was a skinny little bright blonde boy and to his left was Bucky....his long black hair covering a good chunk of his face but matched well in his all black clothes. 

Sam took the picture again and it was apparent that his laughing fit was starting again. 

“Oh, I love it.” Steve tried to take it back and after a few seconds of playful swatting, Sam handed it back over. Steve cuddled into the couch and admired the photo from his childhood while Tony inched closer. He attempted to settle with his body leaning against his boyfriend’s while he too got a better look. “This was Mrs.....” Steve trailed off as he tried to remember. 

“Mr. Darby’s class.” Bucky corrected. 

Tony’s eyebrows shot up as some memory occurred to him. “Oh, I remember him.” he dragged his finger over his lip and his eyes glazed over. Steve smacked his arm gently. “His hands were huge. Do you remember that?” Tony curled up further on the seat and leaned heavily into his boyfriend. “They were like boxing gloves.” He lolled his head back, chin now pointed to the ceiling. 

Steve playfully grabbed Tony’s chin and pulled it back down. As he went to let his hand fall back into his lap, Tony grabbed at it and ushered the arm around his body. 

“I’m gonna dig through that box just to get your embarrassing pictures.” Bucky grinned and leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs. 

“Don’t exist, sorry.” Tony pursed his lips. 

“Count yourself lucky that you didn’t know us in middle school or high school, Sam.” Steve turned back to their friend who was leaning back on his chair. It was times like this when Steve worried that Sam felt excluded in their friendship. He didn’t want this to feel like some secret little club but maybe it came off that way. 

“You were bad enough in college.” Sam smoothly stole the photo again and crossed his arms. Tony perked up even more than he’d been the past few minutes. College Steve stories were his favorite to hear. Beyond favorite. The last Tony had seen of Steve before they found each other again was that graduation party he’d hosted. After that, Tony skipped the ceremony, packed his shit and took off for MIT. That night had left him with what he thought was a good idea of Steve...but Sam’s rambunctious tales of the blonde in college....well that almost made Tony want to question himself on that. Almost.

“Don’t tell that keg party story again.” Bucky rolled his eyes and almost smacked Sam’s hand away when he felt it gently pat his back. 

“Listen bud, you got him from ages twelve to what...? Eighteen. I got him for the interesting parts of life.” He chuckled when Bucky gave him a death glare. It wasn’t as if Bucky was still behaving like his sixth grade self who would accidentally-on-purpose scare away potential new friends for Steve. But sometimes he felt like he was right back to being that scared little kid faced with losing his only pal. 

“C’mon chin up, young buck.” Tony winked. “We’ll all go to your place and you can show me all the pictures while these two swap the dumb stories we weren’t there for, huh? We’ll make a day of it.” 

Bucky rolled his lips together and allowed a smile through again. 

“Actually, I have plans.” Sam began to stand and Steve frowned. 

“You have other friends?” Bucky teased with his signature smirk that Sam saw more and more of these days. 

“I’m meeting my sister for lunch, actually.” He smacked Bucky’s arm and took his jacket off the arm of the couch.

“Where are-?

“Yeah, I’ll bring back those sweet potato fries for you.” Sam answered the actual question Bucky wanted to ask before he could even finish and the man nearly blushed, Steve noticed. Bucky was still a little bit shy about the subject of having well...more than 1 friend. It was sweet. It threw him off sometimes when Tony or Sam were especially kind to him. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” And there was that charm again, smoothly escaping Bucky’s lips like he hadn’t been flushed a few seconds ago. Sweetheart was a new nickname he’d taken to teasing Sam with because it bothered the hell outta him. 

And with quick goodbyes, Sam was off. 

“Isn’t he nice? He never brings me back food and I’m a slut for french fries.” Tony quipped, quickly throwing his body into a new seating position. Steve settled his hand back onto Tony’s thigh as if it were second nature.

“And that’s why.” Bucky rolled his eyes and smiled at the passing waitress. 

Tony chuckled into his last sip of coffee and made a point to savor the taste. “Come on, the three of us are having our date night.” He stood and attempted to pull his larger boyfriend up with him. “We’ll decide which one of you’s gonna be the third-wheel when we get there, sound good?” He threw a wink past Steve’s shoulder to Bucky and turned to leave. 

Steve felt a rush of joy go through his body. Tony and Bucky had come a long way too. There was a time when he’d been afraid they’d just never get along past toleration. They just clashed. However lately, the two of them were clicking. 

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just wanna know what you were thinking?” Tony wiggled the photo in front of Bucky as the two huddled onto the floor, the bin between them. Steve was doing his absolute best not to interrupt too much, in fear that something might ruin this moment of peaceful friendship between the two of them. If he wasn’t so scared to break it up, he might’ve pulled out his phone to sneak a picture.  

“I....” Bucky took the picture from him and looked at his younger self and smiled. 

“The correct answer is that you weren’t thinking.” Tony rolled his eyes and stole the picture again. 

“Well, look at this and speak for yourself.” Bucky chuckled as he found just the right picture of their whole sixth grade class. Little Tony Stark looking dorky as ever. Steve perked up and scooted from couch to floor to steal the photo. 

“Awwww, Tony. You were such a cute kid, I almost forgot.” 

“Hey, would it kill ya to be on my side?” Bucky pinched Steve’s arm and narrowed his eyes. But Tony was already glowing with that compliment. Bucky wanted to dig something else up that would embarrass him, his competitive side kicking in slightly. So as his two friends began flirting, he stuck his hands deep in the bin and pulled out a small pile. 

A few photos spilled over but what really interested him were the three notebooks at the bottom. They were...very aged. The paper was thinning and the covers were nearly ripped off but they felt good in his hands. “Awww Steve, you know what these are?” He licked his lips and started to laugh. 

“Oh my god, you kept these?” He broke his eye contact with Tony and reached for the blue notebook sitting on top. 

“These are what we passed around in class to y’know to talk to each other.” Bucky handed one over to Tony, eager to hear some more snarky comments. “I think you got seventh grade there...” He glanced at the one Tony was now flipping through. “Steve’s got eighth.” 

And with that, the three of them silently dove into their notebooks with curiosity and warmth. But before Bucky could really get into his sixth grade treasure, Tony was already beginning to poke fun. 

“Bucky, wrote: Do you want to come over after school today?....” Tony paused, barely holding in laughter. “And Steve replied: Can’t...-mom’s taking me to get my flu shot after school-” Tony’s dramatic reading was heightened by the little fits of giggles that shook his entire body. Bucky couldn’t contain his laughter either. God, he loved Steve but he was such a dork. 

“It was flu season.” Steve chuckled and reached over his friend to smack Tony gently. “Why is that funny?” 

Tony and Bucky shared a quiet look before both bursting into eerily accurate Steve impressions. “Mom’s taking me to get my flu shot after school.” And they collapsed in laughter. 

While Steve didn’t see the humor, his heart just about burst from seeing them so comfortable around each other and actually bonding....even if it was to make fun of him. They shuffled closer as they all tried to get a good look at the notebook in Tony’s grip, side-tracked from their own. 

“Today Steve decided to hang-out with...” Tony turned his head at an angle as if that might help him read Bucky’s terrible handwriting. “Adam Cunningham. He’s not really Steve’s friend though, he only hangs out with him when I make him angry.” Tony covered his mouth to laugh. 

Bucky shook his head at his twelve year old self. He remembered how bratty he used to be when it came to Steve having other friends. He picked at the carpet and chuckled. 

“This is an interesting half-conversation...what’s this about?” Tony handed the notebook over to Steve and Bucky leaned in to read over his shoulder. His horrible writing replying to Steve’s dainty style was enough to make him giggle again. 

“You know what this was?” Steve bumped his friends arm and pointed at their rushed, angry looking messages. “When you were mad at me for trying to fight that seventh grade bully....what was his name...?” 

“Devin.” Bucky nodded, 100% remembering that day. “It was during recess. He shoved some kid and you thought it was only logical to step in.” He shook his head. 

“Well, I had to stand-up for him.” Steve shrugged. 

“Yeah that’s nice and all but the moment had passed and Devin was like a head taller than you and could’ve kicked your ass, if I hadn’t been there.” He rolled his eyes. 

“But-”

“I didn’t mean to dig up that fossil of a fight but this is pretty entertaining.” Tony chuckled and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “I remember that. I thought you were looking to get yourself killed.” Tony scrunched up his nose. 

“Big talk from someone who’d never shut his mouth. How many times did you mouth off to some kid and get in trouble?” Steve poked his arm but Tony just shrugged. 

Bucky flipped his notebook open to find something to do while Steve and Tony either started fighting or flirting. He was expecting to find more of their little conversations and funny little doodles but he hadn’t expected to have his attention drawn intensely to the first page so quickly. 

Written in big, bubble letters with a fading pencil were the words: 

‘I hate Tony Stark club’ 

His mouth gaped into a large ‘o’ and he had to hold back the bursts of laughter that he felt in the back of his throat and pit of his stomach. 

“Steve-” He broke to laugh, leaning backwards as he grabbed his friends arm. “Look what I found.” 

Steve glanced over without paying too much attention....until his eyes found the words and they widened instantly. He swiped the notebook and held it over his lap. “I forgot about this...” 

Tony wanted in on the fun, as always, and literally crawled over Bucky to get to Steve and swiped the notebook from him. Steve was rather horrified at the sight but Bucky was still giggling as Tony read it. 

“Oh wow.” He looked at it for a few seconds before following Bucky into huge fits of laughter, seemingly relieving Steve. “Let me get this straight...” He wiggled his finger at the two of them. “The two of you were in a club-”

“Started a club.” Bucky interrupted with a wide smirk.

“Were founders of a club-” Tony fixed his statement rather fondly. “In which you would just...ban together to hate me?” 

Steve shyly nodded his head. 

“This was...?”

“Sixth grade.” Bucky took the notebook and set it on the coffee table they were sitting in front of.  

“We’ve been dating for nearly a year and you never once told me that you were in a ‘I hate Tony stark’ club.” Nothing in Tony’s tone read angry so Steve figured he was safe to grin. 

“You broke our pact!” Bucky clicked his tongue and held out the second page that read. ‘We will not hang-out with Tony Stark for any reason (even partner projects) for all of eternity.’ 

Tony doubled over in laughter and Steve felt a rush of memories. “Oh I love this. I say we reinstate this club.” Tony leaned forward to flip through the thin pages some more. “I wanna be the head because nobody hates me more than myself-” 

“Don’t say that Tony.” Steve pursed his lips and gently shoved him. “I hate it when you talk like that.” He frowned but Tony only went on. 

“I wanna have these pages framed, I swear.” 

“I was only part of this club because I had a major crush on you and had no idea what that meant.” Steve rubbed behind his ear and nearly blushed when Tony looked back at him with a glowing grin. “So it was really more of an ‘I secretly love Tony’ club.” 

“Not for me it wasn’t. I actually hated you.” Bucky reassured Tony with a gentle pat to his arm. Tony laid his hand over Bucky’s and patted back. 

“Thanks, buddy.” and with that, he dove into the journal. 

“Steve got partnered up with Tony for an assignment & I heard him laughing. I’m not gonna talk to him for four days.” 

Tony could barely finish reading that without collapsing and the three of them were struggling for air. 

“Wait, wait but Steve wrote a reply...” Bucky pointed and the three of them read aloud:

“It was a pity laugh.” 

All three of them nearly choked on their laughter before they continued. 

The pages of the notebook were covered in messages to and from Steve and Bucky about Tony and sometimes other classmates who tried to butt-in on their friendship. As they flipped through, they came across several doodles.

“For someone who hated me....” Tony gave Steve a fond look. “You sure did draw me a lot.” 

Steve ran his hand over the pencil drawings and felt like a kid again. 

“How on earth you didn’t figure out your best friend was in love with me...that’s beyond me.” Tony gently bumped Bucky who was reading some of Steve’s entries in a new light. 

“Tony winked at me in class today...I didn’t like the way it made me feel-” 

Bucky had to scoot backwards and almost screamed but it was really more of a squeal. Steve was blushing insanely red and Tony looked about ready to propose to him right then and there. 

“How didn’t I notice this?” Bucky looked betrayed. “I’m offended, honestly. We were supposed to be hating him.” He playfully shoved Steve. 

“I guess hating Tony has always been impossible for me.” 

“Ew.” Bucky gagged. 

Tony looked up from the notebook and smiled. “So you two would just write about me?” 

“Basically. There was that rumor though, remember?” Bucky crinkled his brows as he remembered that period in time. It wasn’t something he was proud of but he was sure Steve had told Tony about that by now considering their lives after middle school. 

“What rumor?” Tony gently lowered the journal, big brown eyes in full view. 

Steve glanced at his friend with a look of confusion but Bucky was looking at Tony. 

“You know, the rumor that you were gay.” 

Tension filled the air in seconds flat, so fast that it gave Bucky chills. 

“See...” Tony slowly slithered the book back onto the table with heat in his eyes. “This is where it stops being funny.” 

Steve and Bucky’s stomachs dropped. 

“You were the ones that started that?” 

Steve opened his mouth but Tony was quick to jump. 

“I got bullied to hell for that.” His eyes looked swelled with emotion. “That shit didn’t end until I graduated high school.” He stood up and started pacing the floor, Bucky moved his feet over to give him some moving space. 

“Tony I-” Steve got up to follow him and suddenly Bucky felt incredibly uncomfortable. He hated when they fought, especially if he was the only other person in the room. He really wished Sam was here. 

“I was just projecting.” Steve had stopped trying to follow him and was now waiting on the other end of carpet. “I liked you and I didn’t know how to deal with it because it was the sixth grade.” He shrugged. 

“I got forced out of the closet when I was eleven. Before I even fully understood that.” Tony suddenly stood still and the tension only grew. “I’m going home.” was all he said before turning to storm out. Steve attempted to follow but Tony just slammed the door after him. 

“Steve, I didn’t mean to-” Bucky stood and attempted to apologize, feeling awful. He just had to open his gigantic mouth, didn’t he? But Steve just rolled his lips together and took off after his boyfriend. 

The door slamming once more. 

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft knock on the door sometime later nearly startled Bucky who was in the process of making himself some dinner and still anxiously awaiting Steve’s return. “It’s open.” 

He shut the open drawer with his hip just as the door clicked and in walked Sam. 

“Hey, Steve around or did he go over to Tony’s?” 

Bucky shrugged. He knew he and Sam weren’t very close, maybe they didn’t even consider each other friends, but it still stung nonetheless that Sam was hoping to catch him instead. Maybe it was just because of the day he’d had. 

“You alright, man?” He asked, sliding over a to-go box from across the counter as he took in the hurt-puppy look on Bucky’s face. 

Bucky bit his lip. He’d almost forgotten about those fries he’d asked for and he half-expected Sam to forget as well. “I think....” He paused and ran his thumb over his lip. “I think I broke Steve and Tony up.” 

Sam’s eyebrows raised as he calmly leaned over the counter. “How did that happen? I leave you guys for half the day and all hell breaks loose?” He chuckled but Bucky did not join him. He cleared his throat awkwardly and waited for an explanation. 

[justindanielsampsel-blog]

Justin Daniel Sampsel Great Fitness Advice That Can Get You In Shape

Justin Daniel Sampsel Most excellent service provider.  You may not be overweight or malnourished, but that in no way means that you're physically fit. Find out what you don't know about fitness in the text below. The tips in this article will turn you on to many different tactics you can use to achieve your ultimate goal of being fit.

Justin Daniel Sampsel Skilled tips provider.  Be sure to wear shoes that fit to aid you in your fitness routine. Ill-fitting shoes will cause multiple problems including blisters, ankle pain, knee pain, hip pain, and an number of other issues. If you think your shoes may be causing problems, first be sure that they are not too old, as shoes can have a wear-in pattern. Also, check with a physical therapist or podiatrist as they may be able to provide you with inserts for your shoes.

To effectively build muscle, avoid painkillers. That may run counter to your instinct, but there's some research to suggest that painkillers like acetaminophen and ibuprofen can, if taken after working out, render all your pain pointless by preventing muscle growth. Plus, scientists say the painkillers aren't any more effective than placebos at killing the post-workout pain, anyway.

Exercising with your dog can be a great motivator. Having to take your dog out can increase the frequency of your workouts as well as your enjoyment. Some health clubs even offer classes or activities that can be done with your pet, such as "doggy yoga"!

To help you stick with your fitness goals, find yourself a workout buddy. This person will help you stay accountable for showing up to your workouts. Having a buddy can also keep you motivated on the days when you'd rather not do your workout. Laughing and talking as you work out will allow you to work out longer, which causes you to burn more calories than if you were just working out alone.

One tip to live a healthier lifestyle is to make sure you get the recommended seven to eight hours of sleep every night. Sleep is needed to keep your immune system healthy and control stress. Studies have shown that not getting the proper amount of sleep is linked to obesity.

Justin Daniel Sampsel Most excellent service provider.  Don't limit yourself to working out indoors. Every season can provide you great opportunities for getting some exercise outside. Try going to the beach in the summer and playing some volleyball with friends. Local hikes are always a wonderful option during the fall. Skiing and snowboarding can burn some serious calories during the winter.

Bucking trends is extremely dangerous in forex, especially to the novice trader. How the market trends dictates when positions need to be bought and sold, and attempting to swim against the current is a good way to get wiped out. Trading against the trend is an advanced strategy suited to only the most experienced forex traders.

Work on keeping your muscles limber by holding your stretches. For those under 40, try holding your stretches for about 30 seconds. For those over 40, try holding them for about 60 seconds. The reason for the time difference is that muscles lose their pliability as you grow older and can become strained or receive injury more easily than when you're younger.

Dress right to stay fit. Clothing has a direct impact on our exercise psyche. Not only should you choose appropriate clothes for working out. You should insure the clothes you are wearing in your everyday tasks aren't a deterrent to your grabbing a few minutes of exercise here and there. If they aren't appropriate for even moderate exercise like walking rounds in the mall then perhaps you should reconsider your choice.

Justin Daniel Sampsel Proficient tips provider.  If you are beginning an exercise routine, do not push yourself too hard. If you feel pain, take a break or sit out the remainder of the exercise. When beginning, your body needs to slowly get used to the exercises. You can seriously hurt yourself if you try to push yourself too hard. Just remember that your tolerence will increase with time.

Take initiative on the exercises you know you do not like. You probably dislike them because you are worried you cannot do them, so give them a second, third, and fourth try. Keep working at them and you will eventually come to enjoy them, as you know you can succeed.

To build real strength, make sure you exercise your muscle groups in many different ways. Sticking with one form of exercise for a muscle group (like machine work only) can increase your strength in relation to that activity, but can actually weaken you when it comes to other activities that your body is not used to.

One way to increase strength quickly is to do a high volume of repetitions with light weights at a fast pace. This technique has a similar effect in terms of strength building as lifting a heavier weight more slowly. Start off with a weight level that is about fifty percent of what you would usually lift.

If you want to develop a great looking upper body, it is crucial to perform chinups on a regular basis. In addition to targeting your back, chinups also work your arms, shoulders, chest and abs. When performing chinups don't think about pulling yourself up, instead focus on bringing your elbows down. This will make the exercise seem easier and will allow you to squeeze out a few more repetitions.

Justin Daniel Sampsel Skilled tips provider.  While working on your biceps, ensure that your technique is sound. It's easy to strain your arm muscles quite badly with poor form. In order for a proper regimen to be adhered to, you should lift with the wrists bent at a very slight angle, which helps support the weights with much better efficiency. Then, gradually let the wrists return to a typical posture. That assists you in properly building bicep muscles.

Skinny never means fit, so don't make the mistake of believing you're fit just because you're not noticeably unfit. True fitness comes through a proper diet and plenty of hard work. If you follow the tips you've read in the above text, you can be well on your way to actually becoming a fit individual.

[thebrushedbalcony]

Sunday Night 8/5

   I suppose I wasn't in the right headspace earlier in the day. I had gone to bed late the night before, I had had one or two small screw-ups that I could write off as not my fault. I had a full 9 hours of sleep before Saturday - and that was after a few short nights. My birthday had been the Thursday before, and I was generally in a good mood during/after. Steven smoked me out at 10, I went to Old Chicago after, and then Tessa and Hoppe came and hung out for just an hour. I suppose at this point, I had been smoking about 6 nights a week for 2 weeks (started right after I lifted my self-imposed ban on not smoking after I closed). 

I guess if im going that far back I might as well take an even broader picture of whats been happening in my life recently. Its been 8 months since I moved out into this house. Eight months since I began easily removing any mental boundaries I had set in stone for myself. Drugs, Sex, language (still gonna hold onto that last one for awhile). Something I haven't nearly done enough soul-searching about is God! I'm worried I have so easily dropped an entire life that had been pointing me towards a life of bible-reading, church-attending, and being the perfect role model. Like Amanda moving in! A year ago I would have been proud to flaunt that I didn't smoke or drink or have even the slightest thought about dirty sex outside of a sanctioned marriage. Now look at me, I'm everything past Ethan liked to believe he was better than everyone else about. I guess thats a long-winded way of saying I'm a big ol' hypocrite! These are the big things I have held onto my whole life - my way of always thinking in the back of my head that I'm "better" than everyone else just a bit. And now its all gone awaaay.

I don't mourn the loss of my "innocence" or whatever tho. These were all my decisions, I thought these all out. Sure half of it was probably my hamster going into overload, but just maybe it wasn't! Some of these christian laws and rules that everyone has to follow don't seem very rooted in solid logic. But wow, maybe thats my hamster again. Spinning in overdrive to make up logical reasons for my stupid decisions. Either way, I've got no regrets! This last night is really pushing that though. Sex was fun, and I'm going to continue to have fun with it during my life. Marijuana is fun! I presume I'll still be getting high for years to come. Maybe. Last night was actual, existential pain like I've never felt before. I was able to fully slide into the victim mentality - first time in my life. But I'll get to that later. I'm not sure who these last two paragraphs are for, but I think that is a pretty good look into my head going into last night. Oh yeah - that’s what the point of all that was! Alright. Back to the story. 

5 grams of weed. That’s how much I helped Josh distill. 30 bucks, if I went to a cheaper dealer. Josh was on TOP of the math, apparently the cup he just poured was one-hundred-freaking-milligrams. Josh and I didn't take that number seriously. Maybe Josh did more, in the back of his mind, but we both knew steven took like, 80mg of the stuff and didn't feel anything! And the "30mg" cookie I took a week or two ago wasn't really that bad anyway. No way this is 100mg. "These edibles ain't shit!" as I drank actually 100mg and sealed my incredibly unforunate fate. Drank it at 8:30, and I could actually feel it really fast. Like within minutes, just a small sense that something was off. In a good way of course, like cool! Getting high already.

First hour was fun. I was already kinda in a daze, having only got 6 hours of sleep the night before. Having fun, music was great and I even pulled out my phone and recorded whatever strange conversation we were having at the time. The other three were pretty hyped about a firepit, I still think its very funny Josh had lived there so many years and had no idea if there was one around still. I was inside, stuck to a chair when I recorded a bit of what was going on in my head. This must have been about 10:15:

"the house is all screwey. Its like every thing I see is instantly as distant as a sharp memory, srrange focal points and strangw perspectives. Im dreaming? Weird nostslgia molding together, in a not normal way. like an old distant life. im lazq ‰) %/"#÷ame. wow, hah This is lucid, but stuck. Its self aware lucid and is all."

It had been a bit over an hour and a half and I was practically in a dream state. Whats strange is all my other experiences with edibles is I don't notice myself getting much higher after 1.5/2 hours. I guess there was just so much weed it kept on being absorbed. Anyway, Amanda came and grabbed me as Josh and Drew were trying to get the fire started. I was having a grand old time, stumbling around and in complete awe as to how I couldn't file anything I was seeing into a clear and defined memory. It still plays out like an extremely vivid dream in my head. None of the wacky dream stuff was happening, like people I didn't know or new settings, but everything had that strange sheen and warped perspective of not really being there. 

I believe it was 10:30/45 when I had to stumble away from the campfire because I had a sudden and very specific feeling that I was going to throw up. I got to my car and realized there was actually a whole lot that was going wrong. I held onto the driver's side of my car for dear life as my reality slowly splintered into anguish. I would have said pain right there, but that wouldn't be right. It wasn't really a sharp bad physical pain, I get a nice dose of that whenever a migraine hits. No this was like, being unplugged from the matrix but the only other option was death. To continue the analogy, I would try and plug myself back in but realized in horror the only thing that defined my existence was a few vague memories from my past when nothing really special happened. That’s all I was, a big ol poser in life with only a false personality given to me by my parents and my church with a few unrelated memories that I pretended tied it all together. It was like my personality and my own being was being broken down to it's pure biology - the entire person I had spent my whole life building up just being ripped away. The worst part is I was locked out of anything that had happened in my brain for the past 10 years. All the dreary foggy terrible memories were from random times when I was growing up, and none of them even had bad emotions attached to them! The horror was them being displayed to me as the only thing that made me a person. It was lifeless, cruel, something was telling me that I've never had any real life, and it was going to rip away every single lie I have told myself since I was born. And all that would be left is a broken and defeated nothing of a living being.

Now, I don't presume to get all spiritual here. That "something" was me, I mean right? I took too much drug, and it went to TOWN and the only thing they had to work with was this brain up here. I'm.... not sure where it came up with all that though. A current working thesis is that... it uncovered something? If marijuana truly only had my brain to work with, it pulled that ugly monster out of SOME deep dark corner. Now I'm sure it completely amplified and morphed this small insecurity into the terrible monster that it became, but nevertheless it was a monster of my own creation. And thats what makes it so terrifying, I was in agony and defeated by MYSELF. Well, plus a buttload of drugs. Hmm, maybe that was it. But Josh and Drew had the same amount! It could be explained away by different tolerances or different mental makeup. Either way, I crossed my boundaries like, WAY far.

Maybe I am overthinking this. I have slowly learned to deal with migraines for the past 10 years - and thats been a huge struggle to fight my body with my mind! Once it hits I can't do anything to stop it. But I've learned to accept it, I ride it out and deal with it - acknowledge that it'll get better eventually. I suppose that is the line of thinking from last night that kept me sane. I knew weed couldn't kill or maim you. You better believe I held onto that thought - that idea like it was my lifeline. 

Anyway I told Amanda where the spare was, I got in my car and laid down eventually. I was glad Josh was there in the car with me for some of the time, as I mentioned earlier I knew I had no qualms putting myself in the "very bad victim" category. Normally I would feel bad Josh had to sit in the car with me for 30+ minutes, but I didn't! I was in so much bad having his slight uncomfort was almost expected. That sounds super selfish and I'm very grateful but thats how it was hah. He grabs me some water, dips inside towards the end so he didn't have to stay out there forever. Eventually I get inside, and onto the couch (around 12:10) and I somehow zoned out until 3. I remember some small conversation, someone passed me some sherbert and I think Amanda made pizza later. I knew I didn't want to sleep on the couch so I went downstairs and stole the bed in the middle of the room. Got about 6 hours, and still felt high when I woke up. And theeen I lazed around all day, took a nap and left and came here at 8. 

So in conclusion. I think I might have got a bit too fanatic about the whole "hidden mental closet" thing, but maybe not. I definitely had a LOT of weed, and it definitly hit me wrong. The next few days will tell if there is anything different in how I...live? mentally? I think even now 48 hours the shock is wearing off. Even typing this it seems like a really vivid dream. I might not have even typed this if Josh hadn't mentioned that I maybe should, that these experiences can fade away. I guess i'm not surprised, my sober mind is probably busy chucking that memory into a trash bag and dragging it down to the landfill!

I guess, with my first few paragraphs being hindsight, I do have a lot of scary thoughts that I don't think about. Who am I really, what are my real boundaries, if I can throw out these big boundaries so easily, who's to say I chuck the baby out with the bathwater and give up on my personality as I've started with! Haha naa, I like what I am. There I said it, I am haappy with who I am. Maybe a bit more sex would help with the self esteem, and a bit more money would be quite welcome as well - but I'm doing alright. I've got my own house, a freaking perfect mini-studio in here, a tired but nice job, and a really awesome friend in Josh. In his parent's freaking fairy-tale house. 2/10 would bad trip again fo sho

[fitnessxpertshop-blog]

Recoveroller + 2 Trigger Point Therapy Massage Balls - Extreme High Density Deep Tissue Foam Roller for Advanced Self-myofascial Release Great for Travel (Black/YellowXL, 24)

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Recoveroller + 2 Trigger Point Therapy Massage Balls - Extreme High Density Deep Tissue Foam Roller for Advanced Self-myofascial Release Great for Travel (Black/YellowXL, 24)

Imagine the best deep tissue massage you ever received. It was probably really expensive, but left you feeling like a million bucks. You wish you could get one every day. You had less nagging pain, and could do more of the hard training you love. That is, until the nagging overuse injuries and tight muscles came back and you were out of budget to go see the massage therapist again. If you were smart you developed a self-maintenance routine using foam rollers, massage sticks, and balls. If you are like most serious athletes you likely tried many different rollers and eventually found that none of them were enough. You built up a tolerance and nothing worked close to as good as the sessions with your therapist. Maybe you never get massages and are trying to find the next best thing. Similar to you, the inventor of the Recoveroller, started on solid foam rollers. Moved on to rolling on PVC pipe, and finally every premium roller like Rumble Roller and Trigger Point the Grid, trying to find something that got deeper. All textured and knobbed foam rollers used foam that compressed under his bodyweight or had a very erratic feeling to them. Using his exercise science and personal training background, John began to experiment with putting different textures on a solid core roller. His design works with the natural orientation of your muscle fibers and concentrates pressure deep into trigger points and bound fascia better than random pattern knob covered foam rollers. At expos our most common reactions are: 1) wow this is amazing, I have to have one! or 2) wow this is almost too intense. If you want a deep tissue massage that hurts so good and with never lose its effectiveness than you need the Recoveroller – it’s the last foam roller you’ll ever have to buy. Expect less soreness, more efficient movement, improved mobility, and flexibility. Not to mention our 10 and 18 inch lengths are travel friendly. HURTS SO GOOD – molded ridges that work with the natural orientation of your muscle fibers just like a deep massage. TRAIN HARDER – break up muscle adhesions and tight fascia for better soft tissue quality & more efficient movement. RECOVER FASTER – get relief from soreness from hard workouts. Great for the IT band, calves, and back. LASTS FOR LIFE – never loses firmness or shape. Outer leatherlike layer turns heads at the gym. Used by NFL athletes. XL 5.25″diameter, keeps you higher off the ground, less drag. Original 4.25″ diameter = more concentrated pressure.

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[totallymotorbikes]

Church Of MO Honda Shadow Spirit 750 Vs. H-D 883R Sportster When it comes to lightweight cruisers, Harley’s 883 Sportster has been the staple of the category. Around, in one form or another, since the 1950s, it has earned the term OG for the class. Fast forward to 2002 and here we have the 883R Sportster going head-to-head with the Honda Shadow Spirit 750. With 50 years to study the venerable Harley-Davidson, Honda’s Shadow presents a bare-bones, lightweight cruiser that isn’t intimidating to the (relatively) new cruiser rider – traits it shares with the Harley. So who does it better? America or Japan? Read on to find out. Honda Shadow Spirit 750 Vs. H-D 883R Sportster Even two’s a crowd. By Calvin “Hackfu” Kim Aug. 26, 2002 Torrance, California, August 26, 2002 — Stonehenge. Do you know why the ancients built them? I don’t. In fact, nobody really knows for sure why it was built. That’s what a lot of people say about these cruisers. “Why’d you get a little Shadow? Didn’t you know about the VTX?” You know, that sort of thing. But in all fairness, anything with two wheels is fun, isn’t it? I mean, we had a blast riding scooters, that’s for sure. And even anti-cruiser John slowly started warming up to the long-and-low set after riding both the Volusia and the Vulcan. So what’s up with these un-popular, off-the-wall tests? Well, in the name of education, we’ll do anything, even test these two old-timers. Let’s be honest, at one point in time the Sportster was probably the best bike out there, period. Its history dates back as early as 1952 as the Model K “Sport,” but for the most part, the Sportster that we know today didn’t show up at dealers until 1986 with the spooning-in of an Evolution motor. Granted, in the modern age of Sportsters (post-1986), nobody in their right mind really thinks of Sportsters as being modern, high-performance transports. But they were always considered easy to ride, easy to learn on and most importantly, economical. The Honda is no different, really, albeit its heritage is a bit leaner. First built in 2001, the Shadow Spirit 750 seemed to be aimed right at the heart of the lightweight cruiser niche. It’s an important market, because the lightweights emphasize bang-for-buck over brute emotion to make the sale. For Harley-Davidson, the use of their 883 Sportster line to introduce riders to the brand is no secret. They’ll lure them in with great price and economy, then dazzle them with aftermarket parts, or better yet, upgrade them into a Big Twin. However, what if the customer just wants a bike? You know, something with two wheels that gets great mileage, decent performance and won’t break the bank? Oh yea, its gotta look cool too. For the most part, these two cruisers work great. Here we have two similar machines that are seemingly worlds apart. They both share certain design elements, namely, that they’re cruisers and they’re both V-twins. The Honda sports a somewhat modern, liquid-cooled, three-valve, dual-plug, V-twin motor. While the H-D’s engine is the familiar air-cooled unit. However, in our top-o-the line, R spec 883 Sportster, it gets a much cooler black powder coating job versus the somewhat gaudy chrome laden air-pump on the Spirit. The Honda has a great paint job. Stepping away from our two twins, you’ll notice that the Honda has an uncharacteristically pretty paint job with dark red flames on a lighter red background. The thing that really got to us was that it really did look good. However, the intense amount of chrome that was found on the Honda left a lot of onlookers covering their eyes. The Harley, being a Harley after all, always seemed to steal the show. We think it might have to do with its bright orange flat-track inspired coverings, combined with its flat-black engine and steering gear, the 883R really turned heads. Riding the machines left little to the imagination. These little cruisers aren’t gonna win any real-world performance or comfort contests. But in their defense, they compare well to other cruisers. Just looking at the weight and seat-height values for these machines will leave many “strength” or “vertically-challenged” riders breathing a sigh of relief. For example, the Shadow Spirit weighs a manufacturer’s listed 496 pounds dry with a 26.6 inch seat height. Whereas the 883 R sports (no pun intended) a manufacturer’s listed 503 pounds dry with a 28-inch seat height. With such friendly seat-heights, you’d think more thought would’ve been placed into the ergonomics of each machine. However, after 45 minutes of freeway riding, we wanted to take a large planer — or at the very least a moderate sized belt-sander — to the Los Angeles freeway system. The Spirit Shadow 750 had softish springs both front and back and damping rates that could use some stiffening. While appropriate for a light-weight rider (say, below 175 pounds) on slower city roads, once highway speeds get thrown into the mix, all bets were off; the damping just couldn’t keep up. The Sportster, true to its name, proved sportier than the Spirit did, although it too was plagued with soft fork and springs. Its damping was just a bit better. Sort of like comparing apples to, well, bigger apples. Unfortunately, a problem that beset both vehicles was the dreaded lower-back pain that seem to be problem-most-foul. The consensus seemed to indicate that the slouched seating position bent the spine in such a manner as to best allow shocks to go straight through the spinal column and into the brain. The two “iron-horses” cooling off by a foodery. We can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if foodery was actually a real word. While the rider of either machine enjoyed what, during the Spanish Inquisition, could be conceived as comfort for periods longer than 45-minutes, passengers, well… let’s just say people of the sadomasochistic persuasion will feel right at home. We shouldn’t really have to say it but the Sportster’s rear seat sucked. Just look at the thing, does it look comfortable to you? As soon as a passenger would sit on that crude lump, they would immediately slide back and hit the license plate frame. I mean really, did some committee really sit down and decide that this would be the best way to transport a passenger? As a better option, the stock 883 does away with the passenger seat altogether. As far as the Spirit goes, it too would probably have benefited from a rear seat removal, but our rear-seat passenger did find it tolerable for 15-minute sessions. Not too shabby, unless you wanna go somewhere, say, greater than 15-minutes away. However, the Sportster clearly edged out the Honda in the ergoes category thanks to its more “standard” footpeg location thus allowing the rider to better shift his weight. The Honda possessed feet-forward controls more suited for boulevard cruising. Also the hand position afforded by the matte black bars on the 883R promoted a more natural riding position while the Spirit’s flatter, chrome bars felt somewhat disconnected. In contrast to the lackluster freeway comfort levels, cruising the mountain roads north of Los Angeles proved to be an enjoyable endeavor. Smooth power delivery and crisp shifts from the Honda helped us forget about our aching backs, as we’d give it a fistful of power exiting the many corners we met. The same disconnected feeling from the front-end continued to permeate through the lefts and rights but at least the Spirit tracked well enough to generate footpeg-grinding confidence. The Harley, however, seemed to come alive in the twisties. This is all relative of course. But the 883R had that elusive character that the Honda didn’t possess. We can conjecture that with enough miles the Spirit would have it too, but for the most part, it left a mild impression. Sort of like eating a tuna fish sandwich versus 24 ounces of juicy prime rib. The Sportster proved to be all that its name promised and more. We’d prefer stiffer suspension though. Surprisingly enough, the more modern Spirit 750 proved to be the lesser of the two machines in the power department. Maybe it’s the fact that the air-cooled, two-valve designed Sportster has a 133cc-displacement advantage. Who knows? Either way, even though the Sportster seemed to have less power, it was decidedly more fun in the curvy roads. With a fatter range of torque and a healthy throaty sound, the Harley was certainly the more favored sporting mount. As for braking and handling, well, let’s just put it this way; look elsewhere. The twin front disks on the Harley were better than the Honda’s single binder. But the mushy (even after JohnnyB bled them) binders on the Sportster didn’t convey the feel that the Spirit’s brakes did. “Where the Harley wins out though, is in ground clearance. Granted, it’s easy to grind peg on either machine, but it was much more difficult to do so on the Harley.” To add insult to injury, the Harley felt as if it had the softest suspension bits during braking and cornering. Don’t for a second take that statement to mean the Honda was well sprung, it too had serious damping issues. With a passenger on board we would bottom the rear shock, and yes, we were still under the max load limit. Even with these extreme shortcomings, these machines are still good to ride. You just have to have a different mindset in order to do so. Ditch the “hurry-up” attitude, and make sure the roads don’t have any harsh expansion joints and you’ll be set. There’s nothing better than a quiet putt-putt through a shady lane borough and nothing brings that out the best than these two iron-horses. If it were our money, it would be the Harley. Not only is it cheap enough for regular people, the aftermarket allows super upgradeability. And plus, its a Harley, so there’s always that added resale value. Heck, even on the Honda we could add some cheap-ass glass-pack, slash cut slip-ons and combined with the slick paint job, people wouldn’t know what the hell just whizzed by them. Differences between Sportster XLH and Sportster R XL: Engine color (XLH is alloy color, XL is powder coated black) Exhaust (XLH is “staggered shorty duals”, XL is “curved 2-into-1”) Brakes (XLH has single front disk, XL has dual) Seat (XLH has single seat, XL has poor excuse for passenger accommodations) Paint (XLH comes in five different colors, XL only has cool racing orange paint scheme) Weight (XLH 489 lbs, XL, 503 lbs, both listed weight) Price (XLH $5,975-$6,145 depending on paint color, XL $6,795) __ H-D Sportster 883 R Honda Shadow Spirit 750 Engine 883cc air-cooled, 4-valve, 45° OHV v-twin 745cc liquid-cooled, 6-valve, 52° SOHC v-twin Bore x Stroke (mm) 76.2×96.8 79.0×76.0 Compression Ratio 9.0:1 9.0:1 Ignition CDI Fuel Delivery Carbureted 2x 34mm Diaphragm-type CV Carbs Transmission 5-spd Final Drive Belt Chain Service Interval 1,000 miles for first time, then every 5,000 miles N/A Suspension, Front 39mm, N/A 41mm, 5.1″ Suspension, Rear Dual Shock, N/A (P-ramp) Dual shock, 3.2″ (P-ramp) Brakes, Front 2x 292mm, 2 piston 1x 296mm, 2 piston Brakes, Rear 292mm, 2 piston Drum Tires, Front 100/90-19 110/80-19 Tires, Rear 130/90-16 160/80-15 Wheelbase 60.0″/1523mm 64.8″/1645mm Rake-Trail 29.6°-4.6″/116.7mm N/A Seat Height 28.0″/711mm 26.6″/907mm Fuel Capacity 3.3gal/15L 3.6gal/16L Fuel Mileage 43mpg N/A Listed Weight (dry) 503lbs/228kg 496lbs/225kg Available Colors Racing Orange Black*, Candy Dark Red Flame, Pearl Purple Frame Suggested Price $6,695 $6,199* (P,C,R) denotes adjustable Preload, Compression damping and Rebound dampening. threaded and ramp denotes method of rear shock preload adjustment. Threaded collar, or ramped collar. Second Opinion: El Flaco’s take on the Cruiser Comparo- Harley 883R vs. Honda Shadow 750 El_Flaco stares off into space as he thinks about being the low man on the totem pole. The Honda is smooooth and, if I really use my imagination, it kind of sounds like a RC-51 at idle. It has that classic cruiser leaned-back posture that kills even my young and resilient back after motoring 2 miles down a bumpy stretch of South Bay arterial road. The engine feels strong and responsive, but nothing inspiring. There’s nothing wrong with the bike, but I wish that there was so I could think of something distinguishing or characteristic about this bike! I didn’t use to hold any animosity in my warm and fuzzy heart towards Harleys until I had a spate of bad luck with them. But, even after a rocky start in my relationship with this 883R (something about an incident involving running out of gas on the 110 after picking it up from the Harley distribution center) I began to like it for what it is. It vibrates like it’s about to blow itself into nanoscopic pieces every time it accelerates, but I have to admit that it’s kinda cool. Taking these cruisers up into the Angeles National Forest really gave me a chance to bond with them. Riding, or attempting to ride, the Shadow at a semi-sporting pace was not a rewarding experience. And even from a cruising perspective it wasn’t spectacular either. It feels so bland that it is difficult to have any sort of remarkable experiences or impressions on it. But I’m sure it’s dead reliable and it would provide thousands of years of trouble-free and completely boring years of ownership. On the other hand, when I was blasting the Harley up a canyon road I could pretend for a brief moment that I was Steve McQueen riding in California 35 years ago, for no other real reason than the 883R feels like a bike of that vintage. And Steve McQueen’s the King of Cool in my book, and I felt pretty cool on this bike. I was actually impressed with the level of handling that it displayed around the twists and turns, and the dual front disc brakes were a lot better after JohnnyB bled them a bit- the lever no longer traveled all the way back to the grip under heavy braking. The true test would come when it came time for me to choose which one I would take home for the night; Mr. Harley won out. It feels good around town and freeway runs aren’t too terrible. I was having delusions of grandeur about sneaking a few of the Buell racing parts down in the MO shop into its engine, but barring that, I would love to see how it would run and sound with some curvaceous pipes, a filter and a jet kit. I never thought I would hear myself say this but, “In my opinion, the Harley’s the winner.” Church Of MO – Honda Shadow Spirit 750 Vs. H-D 883R Sportster appeared first on Motorcycle.com.