#kinda wish id given her a piece of my mind but whatever

[orcelito]

Did the stuff exchange 👍 that sucked 👍 wahoo

[creatively-cosmic]

i wanted to draw something different today soooo. i went n scrounged up a buncha pokepastas that ive read/pokepasta ocs ive seen around recently (mostly via mutuals)! ill tag creators and link sources under the cut, and ramble a little abt my thoughts... ^^

if anyone wants me to untag or remove their stuff from this btw let me know i didnt ask i kinda just. started doodling.

also half of yall i either never followed or only Just did i need 2 remedy that. ive been observing yalls stuff from a distance i keep forgetting to Press the Fucking Button is all

Your Friend Silver (Elias) by @uuberwachen ! this was such an INSANELYYY well written story and it stuck with me for DAYS. it really slots in the space in my mind that holds the classics and the twists and stuff with it genuinely got me. i cant recommend it enough if anyone who sees it hasnt read it yet. i got so excited when i saw a dedicated ask blog went up. i wish i werent scared of sending in questions to those things

Pixel Blue: 3DS VIRTUAL CONSOLE (2016) by @calybunz ! ahhh this was such a cool one to read! id see updates on it incidentally n i can tell a lot of work went into it- it was definitely worth it! its well written with a lot of heart.. maybe im just a sucker for stories that focus on a sympathetic blue.. the ending made me so SAD dude what the fuck. though my favorite parts were probably the dream sequences- godd the imagery of it all was fantastic!

Nuzlight (Mia) at @nuzlight-mia ! this is one i dont know much about yet, but her personality and design really captivated me when i first saw her! she seems like such a sweetheart and i look forward to getting to see more of her :3 i feel so bad for her situation.. the story n concept are all so interesting!

Missing Numbers (Green) at @themissingnumbers ... is our thing but green is hells (@hells1nfern0 ) dude that i have no sway in so. whatever. im unwell about him im excited for more to be revealed abt him :] i cant really say more than that since i know his secrets

FIRE RED FREE DOWNLOAD (Infected/Abandoned RED) by @aibouart ... another one i saw the design of first and was just IMMEDIATELY struck by. i love when stories twist in-universe things that're generally treated as normal and mundane and use its horror potential! a parasect parasite outbreak where the protagonist gets infected by that and ends up full of mushrooms...? thats the kinda shit i love to see >:)

Jack by @sparklingdemon ! cool ass design ive been wanting to draw and a cool concept to go with- the creepyblack protagonist as a grinning-reaper type where the ghost is an extension of him rules. i also loveee when designs utilize the fossil missingno stuff!! kabutops's arms lend themselves REALLY well to being a scythe

Glitchy Red: Retold by @lycankeyy / @glitchyred (idk which blog youd rather have tagged sorry). so i saw this when the official ao3 repost went up or got mentioned or something and it. really. resonated with me. like its hard to put my thoughts into coherent words, other than i had to just. Lay Down for the rest of the night after reading it and just feel whatever emotions struck me. it cut really deep but honestly- that's just fantastic. it's not often that i read something that makes me feel as viscerally as this rewrite did, and i have nothing but adoration for it because of that (we do have the plural bias which doesnt help regarding this lol). in my mind this is the definitive version of glitchy red.

Sanctuary AU (Aster) by @possiblyfunny . ANYWAYS ON A LIGHTER NOTE i fucking love aster more than i can put into words. given we get tagged in almost every piece of him that goes up its always such a delight to see and learn more about him! id been planning to draw him for months at this point but only just got around to it haha -v-" i look forward to seeing more abt the sanctuary au! please continue to tag me in those posts idc if it includes my guys or not i just care so much abt it

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 19: Lack of Communication (Wayne Gala)

AO3

Prev

The shrill ringing of her phone tugs Marinette from her sewing machine. Glancing at the caller ID, she grins widely.

“Hey Uncle Jagged.” She says, pushing her chair away from her desk. It’d been a couple weeks since she last heard from the man as his tour had really picked up at the end. It was practically back to back concerts, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for phone calls or face times.

“Little Rocker! Glad I caught you. I have an event next week and I was hoping I could drop by the bakery so you could fix a tear in one of my suits.” He says. Marinette winces. That’s what she was supposed to do. Tell Uncle Jagged about...well, everything.

“Yeah, about that…” She trails off, wishing she’d thought to tell him about the whole ‘adopted’ thing the last time she’d seen him in person. “I’m actually not in Paris right now. I’m in Gotham spending the summer with my birth father.” She says, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. There’s silence for a minute. Then two. She looks down at the phone, frowning. Did he hang up?

“You’re in Gotham?” He finally says.

“Yup.” She says, sighing. “I’m really sorry I won’t be able to fix your suit.”

“What, no, this is great! See the event is in Gotham! It’s just a bunch of rich people and- hold on. Penny!” He yells. She catches bits and pieces of their conversation, Penny agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever it is Jagged has suddenly decided. “I have a rocking idea.” He adds.

“Okay? I’m listening.” She says, glancing at the new dress she’d started that was pinned on her dress form. She was having trouble with the shape and was quickly getting frustrated with her struggles.

“You could come with! As MDC, of course. You could wear one of your designs and get known in Gotham. The event is supposed to be highly publicized. Penny thinks it’d be a good way to get known in the US. So, whatdya say?” Jagged asks, and Marinette can just tell that he’s grinning widely, can hear it in his voice. She thinks for a minute, glancing at the dress form with a new sense of determination.

“I’ll have to double check with my dad.” She says, trying to think if they had any plans for next week.

“Of course! Let me know soon, okay? Penny says she wants to start publicizing MDC’s appearance if you’re gonna come.” Jagged says. Marinette agrees before hanging up, thinking. Would her dad let her go alone? Or would he insist on coming with? She knew Gotham was dangerous, it’s why she hadn’t gone anywhere by herself despite being a hero herself. She didn’t want to risk her Miraculous falling into the wrong hands, even if the person didn’t realize what they had. Making up her mind, she sets off to find her dad and ask about the event. She still wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that there would be plenty of big names and plenty of journalists- the perfect opportunity to build up a clientele outside of France. Checking his study first, she’s unsurprised to see he’s not there. Knowing chances were good that he was in the cave, she pulls a domino mask out of her purse. Her dad had asked her a couple days ago to wear one in the cave just in case they had unexpected visitors. Kinda like how her and Chat Noir had shown up unexpectedly that one time. Complete accident. Changing the time on the clock, she presses the button that opens the entrance, sliding in and walking through the passage. Glancing into the cave, she grins when she sees her dad, in costume, sitting at the computer.

“Hey B!” She says, knowing not to call him Dad while he was in the cowl. Something about it making him seem less intimidating, or something.

“Ladybird.” He nods. She frowns, glancing at the computer screen and wincing when she sees Superman on screen.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.” She apologizes, waving awkwardly at the man on the screen. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hello. Ladybird, was it?” He asks and she nods.

“Er, yeah. Ladybird. Nice to meet you.” She says, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes darting around the cave. Maybe she should just leave and ask later.

“Is everything alright?” Her dad asks, obviously confused at her presence in the cave. Not that she wasn’t allowed, she just didn’t spend a lot of time there.

“I was just wondering if I could go to an event next week with my Uncle.” She says, trying to stay vague. He’s silent for a moment before nodding.

“We can discuss details later, but that should be fine.” He says. Marinette grins, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cheers, resisting the urge to hug him. “Bye Mr. Superman!” She adds, waving before running back through the passage to work on her dress some more. This was going to be amazing!

---

Penny had picked Marinette up early the morning of the Gala. She still wasn’t sure what it was for, but that didn’t bother her. She was just excited that she had finally finished her newest dress in time for the Gala. Penny had insisted on her coming over early so that she could help Marinette do her hair and makeup, which she was thankful for. Selina apparently had something to do tonight and couldn’t help her, and she would’ve definitely been her first choice. Smiling down at her dress, Marinette looks at Penny with a grin.

“Could you take a picture for me without my face covering so I can show my parents later?” She asks. Penny nods, smiling back.

“That dress is amazing, Marinette. Truly one of your best designs.” She says. Marinette blushes at the compliment before smiling at the camera. She thanks Penny and takes her phone back, sending the picture to her Maman and Papa as well as her dad and Selina. She was extremely proud of the dress and wanted them to see her in it before she added her ‘disguise’ to protect her identity.

“Hey, Aunt Penny?” Marinette says, looking up at the woman. Penny hums, putting on lipstick. “What is the event for? All Jagged said was that it’s a Gala.” She says, Penny huffs.

“Of course that man didn’t give you any other information. Honestly, sometimes- you agreed without knowing what the event was?” She says, eyebrows raised. Marinette shrugs.

“Uncle Jagged said that it’d be fun. I trust him.” She says. Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Remind me to read any contracts before you sign them, okay sweetie?” She says. Marinette nods and Penny smiles. “Good. Anyway, it’s a Wayne Gala. The family hosts several every year to help raise money for the Wayne foundation.” Penny says and Marinette freezes. Wayne Gala? As in, her father? Her family? Were they really having a Gala tonight without telling her? Or inviting her? Were they….were they embarrassed by her?

“Like, Bruce Wayne?” Marinette manages to ask, trying hard to ignore the way her heart breaks when Penny nods. That was why Selina couldn’t help her. She had to get ready for the Gala. And if she had to guess, the rest of her family was also going. What would they have done with her if she hadn’t had plans? Would they have told her then? Or would they have acted like nothing was happening. Where even was the Gala? Oh my god. It was at the Manor, wasn’t it. The thought strikes her and she winces, giving Penny a small, tense smile.

“Are you okay?” She asks, obviously concerned. Marinette nods sharply.

“Yes, one last question. Where is it?” She asks. Penny frowns, obviously not believing that Marinette was okay, but luckily not pushing it.

“Wayne Manor. The Galas are the only time the manor is opened to other celebrities. The family is usually very private.” Penny says. Marinette huffs out a puff of air, working hard to ignore the hurt in her chest. The feeling that she wasn’t enough. That they didn’t need her. Suddenly, she wasn’t excited anymore. She really wished she would have asked Jagged for more details last week, because now she was stuck going. And it was going to suck.

---

Feeling confident in her design and disguise, Marinette walks through the wall of journalists with Penny and Jagged at her sides. She was working hard to push down the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to take over. Instead, she tried to focus on the questions being called out by the journalists.

“Jagged! Jagged Stone, is this really MDC?” One of them asks. Jagged immediately stopping and shooting the reporter a wide smile.

“Of course it is! She designed all three of these outfits.” He says, gesturing between the trio. “Isn’t she rocking!”

“MDC, why did you pick the Wayne gala to make your first public appearance?” Another journalist asks. Marinette turns to Penny, trusting her to answer the question. They’d agreed before leaving the car that it was best if Marinette didn’t speak directly to any journalists. It would make it easier for them to place her age and where she’s from, given her accent.

“She was in the area and Mr. Stone insisted his favorite designer needed a chance to flaunt her skills in America.” Penny says, flashing the journalist a wide smile before gently pushing Marinette along down the line of journalists. Marinette nods to the man who’d asked the question before following Jagged and Penny closely, her stomach churning as they walk up the front steps of the manor. Of the place she’d been living since summer started. Where apparently they didn’t care to tell her about one of the biggest family events of the year. No big deal. She thought they were accepting her, that they were all getting closer. But maybe not. Her dad not telling her didn’t hurt nearly as much as her brothers not telling her. That felt like a knife in her chest. Trying hard to move gracefully instead of tensely, she follows Jagged into the manor and into the ballroom. Her jaw clenches as she spots her family across the room.

“Mr. Stone, I’m Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.” A man with a notebook and camera says, walking over and extending a hand. Marinette narrows her eyes. She thought the journalists were supposed to stay outside. And this man looked oddly familiar….

“Rocking meeting you man! You a journalist?” He asks, his calculating look hidden by a wide grin. Mr. Kent chuckles.

“Yes, sorry for being so forward. Mr. Wayne and I are friends, so he lets my wife and I have an exclusive pass to come inside the Galas.” He says, glancing at Marinette over his glasses. She watches as his eyes widen slightly before he schools his features back into a neutral expression.

“That’s pretty rock n roll of him!” Jagged says, clapping Mr. Kent on the shoulder.

“It is. Pardon me, but are you MDC?” He asks, turning to look at Marinette once again. She glances at Penny, shaking her head to let her know that she’ll speak for herself for this one. As upset as she was with her dad, he obviously trusted this man. So she would as well.

“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kent.” She says, extending her hand. He smiles, shaking her hand.

“And you, ma’am. I must say, I was not expecting to see you here. I was under the impression that in person events weren’t your forte.” He says, clearly fishing for something. She knew how journalists worked, she’d seen Alya at work enough times to understand that the man in front of her was looking for a story. One she wouldn’t be giving, no matter how much her father trusted the man.

“I like to occasionally surprise people.” She says, waving her hand in a noncommittal way. “Keep them on their toes.”

“I can respect that. Well, I’ll let you all get back to your evening. Nice to meet you all.” He says. She nods back at him, not missing the way he immediately darts off to her dad. She watches as the two start talking, a surprised look on her dad’s face before he turns and sees her. She knows he recognizes the dress. Knows that he knows as well who is underneath the veil. She turns, deciding to ignore him. He didn’t want her here, fine. She’d make sure she stayed out of his way.

---

Clark Kent was confused. He’d known that Bruce must have another kid, adopted in some way. He didn’t just work with random vigilantes, especially not in his city. So knowing that Gotham had a new vigilante named Ladybird, he put two and two together. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective. But what was confusing was the fact that no new faces showed up with the Waynes as they walked into the ballroom for the Gala. Making a note to ask him about it later, Clark makes his way around the room, talking to familiar faces and names, writing things down that would help the story he was being forced to write on the Gala. These events were not his favorite to cover, hardly anything ever happened. Until he heard the commotion outside, other journalists calling out to MDC. He blinks in surprise. MDC had never made a public appearance before. This was an odd one to choose. Preparing himself to confront the designer, he’s surprised as she walks in behind Jagged Stone. He’s even more surprised when he realizes she had to be a teenager. He chats with the girl and Jagged, glancing down at her over the top of his glasses, shock immediately flooding him. The girl had injuries. Hundreds of them. Bones fused back together haphazardly. Quickly excusing himself, he rushes over to Bruce.

“Do you know who MDC is? Because that girl is definitely younger than Tim. And she has hundreds of injuries, Bruce. Hundreds.” He says quietly, watching as Bruce turns and glances at the girl, his eyes widening slightly.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“What?” Clark asks, trying to figure out if he should also be concerned. Bruce smiles, but it's tense.

“That is my daughter.” He says. Clark blinks.

“That’s the new one? Why didn’t she show up with the rest of the family?” He asks.

“I knew she had plans for tonight, so I didn’t tell her about the Gala. I was going to warn her about it, if she didn’t have plans. So she knew to stay in her room.” Bruce explains. Clark frowns.

“You were going to keep her locked up?” He asks incredulously. Not even the least social Wayne was kept locked away for the Galas.

“Of course not. It’s just- she hasn’t said she wants to be announced yet. She hasn’t even said anything about being MDC because she hates the spotlight. I couldn’t just throw her to the sharks. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.” Bruce says, standing up straighter. Clark sighs.

“Did you actually talk to her about it? Or did you just assume?” He asks, Bruce huffs.

“I think I know my daughter a little more than you do, Kent.” He says.

“Really? Because from here it sounds like she’s about two breaths away from a panic attack. And Penny Rolling keeps reassuring her that they don’t have to stay long. Oh- and now she’s apologizing for not telling her it was a Wayne Gala until today, but she’s also clearly confused as to why it’s upsetting her. And now-”

“Okay, I get it.” Bruce snaps, cutting him off. Clark raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure what happened, but you should fix this.” He says with a pointed look before walking away. God knows the Bats all need a push in the right direction every now and again.

---

Jason frowns as he looks around the room for Marinette. He knew that she hadn’t come with the family, B hadn’t explained that one. But he had heard that MDC was there. And he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. These things were annoying as hell and he knew he wouldn’t get through it if he didn’t have his brothers (even if they were little shits). He finally spots her near a wall, clearly trying to disappear. He grins widely, walking over and grinning at her.

“Well, MDC, fancy seeing you here.” He teases with a wink. He watches her for some kind of reaction, frowning when he doesn’t get one. “Pix?” He says, softer this time as he looks at his baby sister.

“Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, was I? Well, sorry to disappoint.” She snaps bitterly. Jason flinches back, surprised at her tone.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she sound so hurt? Why did she think they didn’t want her there?

“Clearly I’m not as much of the family as I thought I was.” She hisses under her breath. He starts to deny that, but she cuts him off with a humorless laugh. “Bruce didn’t even tell me that there was a Gala. None of you did either. A Wayne family Gala and I wasn’t told. I should’ve known better.” She says, turning to walk away. He grabs her wrist gently, stopping her.

“I promise you, we want you here. Dick, Damian, Tim, me- we all want you here. I can’t speak for B, I’ll definitely be having words with the son of a bitch later, but we want you here.” He says, frowning as he listens to her sniffle under her veil. “Pixie, we thought you knew. He told us you weren’t ready to come to this. I swear to you, we would have told you if we knew. I swear.” He adds. His heart breaks as he hears a hiccupped sob break free from her. He wants nothing more than to wrap his baby sister in a hug, but he knows he can’t. Media’d have a field day.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. Jason nods.

“Hell yeah Pix. Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get the others and then we’re all gonna sneak out. Take one of the old man’s cars and get some garbage fast food. Who needs this lameass party anyway.” He says, hoping she’ll agree. He’ll let himself be mad at Bruce later. And boy was he gonna be mad. The old man had really fucked up this time. It was one thing to ask Mari to not go to the Gala, or to think she wasn’t ready for it. It was a completely other thing to not even give her the chance to decide, or tell her at all. Cause now she was hurt and thinking everyone hated her. Well, he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not on his watch.

“Lemme just go tell Jagged and Penny real quick.” She agrees, scurrying off. The second she walks away Jason lets his smile drop into a scowl. That son of a bitch. Storming over to his brothers, he tugs them over to the wall. Better not to let B get word of where they’re going.

“What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks with a scowl.

“Pixie’s gonna tell her Aunt and Uncle that she’s leaving and then we’re stealing one of B’s cars to go to McDonalds.” He says simply. Tim frowns.

“And we’re doing this because?” He prompts.

“Because B apparently didn’t tell the kid about the Gala. And she assumed we knew, and that we all hate her.” Jason explains with a frown.

“Father said she didn’t want to attend.” Damian says, and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, well apparently he lied. She had no clue that the event she was going to as MDC was a Wayne Gala.” He says.

“I’ll go get the car and pull it up front.” Dick says, a determined look on his face. Sometimes his ‘we’re a family and we stick together’ shit annoyed the hell outta Jason, but he was thankful for it today.

“I’m gonna go grab Selina’s coat for her to put on. I saw her dress, and if any MDC fan sees her leaving with us it’s gonna start a media circus.” Tim says, walking away to the coat room. Jason sighs, watching Marinette from across the room. A cleared throat beside him tugs his attention back to his youngest brother.

“What?” He asks, pushing his frustration down. He’d go shoot something later, but right now he was determined to not take his frustration at Bruce out on his siblings.

“Why would Father intentionally keep her from the Gala? She is far more adept at social interaction than I am.” Damian says with a frown. Jason sighs, shrugging.

“No clue. But I’m not about to let her push herself away from the rest of us just because B fucked up.” He says, watching as she walks over to the wall, almost disappearing in the shadows. He nods towards her, making sure Damian follows. The second Tim has Selina’s coat, their small group is off, sneaking out one of the side doors and walking past the journalists, sprinting to Dick and the waiting car. They all jump in and she tears the veil off her face, making Jason wince slightly at her red, puffy eyes. Dick slams on the gas, eliciting a curse from Jason and a squeal of surprise from Marinette.

“So! We broke out of that stuffy party. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, glancing in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Jason. Jason grins.

“We go get a shit ton of junk food from McDonalds and eat it in the car. Give it the old, fast food smell that B loves oh so much.” He says. Marinette snorts, and Jason grins at her. He’d give B hell later, but for now, he was going to enjoy spending time with his siblings.

---

Bruce frowns as he glances around the Gala, not seeing his daughter. Or any of his other children. He made a mental note to talk to them later. Perhaps keeping the Gala from Marinette wasn’t his best decision.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

[windstormwielding]

Slipstream

「 ...Hatchling. 」

“...haven’t heard your gruff old voice in some time.” Kōtarō’s posture straightened when he heard his blade address him. For an instant, it felt like the old shack that made for his childhood home and present surroundings blinked out, and he found himself pulled back into the sea of clouds that made for his inner world.

It was only for an instant, but the sight stuck with the Lieutenant all the same: the sky above him there wasn’t a clear, sunny blue. Clouds, ones at his feet and ones on high, were a charged black, threatening to burst with lightning and roar thunder at any given moment, and moving overhead and below with speed.

「 11 years will have passed soon. 」

“...yeah.” Now that was a comment from his projected instinct Kōta felt he could have done without, leaning back against the old wall and letting out a huff that came out more tired than he intended. It was one thing that he already trained himself ragged, with newer, deeper scars torn into the earth and cliffside alike outside proving as such, but while he would’ve appreciated hearing the often silent Hai’iro Ranmaru speak, it was another to be casually reminded of the looming anniversary of the Great Soul King Protection War.

Reiō, he always hated that name for it. They were more fighting for their own lives, their survival as a collective, than that of a faceless, nameless lynchpin. While Kōtarō found it easier to process those events in the decade-plus since, remembrance still stung. Fear and helplessness unlike anything he felt. Losing too many relationships in one fell swoop than can ever be counted. The death of the one man he respected and looked up to most, whom he only wanted to make proud one more time before his untimely demise. Oh how distraught he had been, in repressing the resulting despair as much as he could and sinking himself into his work, into bettering himself in case-

「 Why? 」

“W-why what?”

「 Why do you remain grounded? 」

“Ranmaru, we’ve been at it here since morning,” the windstorm wielder pointed out, even going so far as to jab a thumb toward the sunset-hued sky outside for his mentally aboding partner. It was rare that he had an entire day to himself, and of course he spent it dedicating in refining his skills and abilities with nigh bullheaded obsession, but he intended on returning to the Seireitei once he recovered enough of his strength. “We can get back into it later in the week, can’t we?”

「 That is not what I meant. 」

Oh here we go with the cryptic gotchas. Returning his thumb so that he may drag his hand, palm and digits, down his face, Kōta paused before he opted to take the bait: “So if it’s not me taking a break, then what?”

「 Why are you not honest? 」

“Wh- Excuse me?!” Maybe it was the exhaustion talking when his own voice rose, but those words still touched on a nerve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

「 You first chose to carry this burden in the name of a man who has not walked among you, not for the last 11 years. 」

“Okay, don’t you dare bring Captain Ukitake into this.” His tone turned as sharp as steel at the comment, and his reiatsu threatened to flare in turn. It was not long after Aizen’s arrest that Kōta made such a pledge to his late commander, to be of better use to him and the 13th in the future, but it was the absolute last thing he wished to recall.

Still, as bitter as he felt, he knew Hai’iro Ranmaru was correct.

“Shit.” How cruelly that memory aged, from an ignorant and hopeful 4th Seat who saw not the storm on the horizon. Hell, none of them saw it coming. The shinigami in question felt his back ease against the wall he sat against, all while mulling over bygone times.

「 So what reason do you have to still seek such power now? 」

The answer to that is obvious, no?

“Rukia... She’s going to need me to back her up. I have a whole Division to look after now as Captain Kuchiki’s right hand. The newest Captain and Lieutenant pair. All eyes of the Gotei 13 will be on us. I can’t afford to slack off just yet.

“...I’ll need to be at my best.”

And for his answer, all he received was a dismissive scoff from the elder voice in his mind.

「 You lie to yourself. 」

“Lying to myself?” Here Kōtarō thought he was being forthright, yet his blade’s accusation came with a gale creaking the wood of the hut from the outside, as though wind itself was objecting to his questioning.

「 You pursue power because you are afraid. 」 

The claim spurned the Lieutenant into trying to deny it, but however he tried to raise his voice, any attempt at a sentence died almost as soon as it left his throat. What could he say to convince his own id otherwise? Not five minutes ago, his thoughts still lingered on a conflict over a decade past; Hai’iro Ranmaru naturally would have thought it too.

“Well don’t you have me all figured out, jī-chan,” he finally answered, letting a defeated smile sit on his countenance.

「 There is no shame in such an act. 」

“In what, pursuing power out of fear?”

「 In figuring you out. 」

A snort broke from the swordsman at the bluntly delivered remark, and with it, so did the tension between himself and the spirit of his weapon.

“Pfeh. That too, then.” 

With that, the pair allowed silence to reign between themselves. The clouds hanging high over Kusajishi seemed to rumble, ready to dispense with rainwater it had built up for several days of aridity with the coming summer season.

It only took moments for the first droplets to fall, pelting the roof little by little until a full shower began in earnest. A satisfied sigh left the soul reaper as he closed his eyes and focused on his other senses, taking in the soothing sound of rainfall and the building smell of petrichor from the outdoors.

Ranmaru’s presence, meanwhile, still lingered in his mindscape, seeming to enjoy the outside weather along with his wielder.

“...it’s been fun, though.”

「 Fun? 」

“Hm.” Kōta nodded to themselves as he sought to piece his thoughts together, while reflecting on more recent history for a change. “Over the last several years. All those techniques and manoeuvres? I wasn’t capable of half of that before we started training so seriously.”

「 Getting stronger... brings you pleasure? 」

“If you want to put it so starkly, then sure, I guess.” A low chuckle broke from Ryōhei younger before he continued. “It also means I understand you—and us—better in the long run, doesn’t it? I’d call it fun.”

「 Hm... I suppose it does, hatchling. 」

“I don’t know, I just... I want to keep flying. Higher, and higher still, until I can’t see the earth at my feet anymore.” He didn’t realize he started waxing poetic, but he remembered that wish well from when he was a little young soul: a great yearning to stand above any and every trouble on the earth, and equally untethered to the forces of gravity – freedom unlike anything he’s ever known. “That’s... just how it always felt like to me, I guess.”

「 Yet you ground yourself. Fear has locked you within a gilded cage, all while the clouds above call for you to ascend to their heights. 」

“Is that right?”

「 Of course. I am the wind at your back, the air in your lungs, and the sword by your side. I know when fear takes hold of you, even should you attempt to deny it. 」

“...it’s not like I’m afraid of death or anything. Kinda grown numb to that sort of thing after this many years on the job and all,” Kōtarō opined, feeling that a shinigami in his position would not last long in their duties if they weren’t used to putting their life on the line. Ranmaru hummed in affirmation in turn, wishing to hear his wielder speak his mind more. Anxiously, the man rested his hand on the back of his weary neck as he went on. “It’s just... back then, with the Quincy...?”

For a moment, he fell quiet.

“...they fucking steamrolled us. Slain us by the thousands. Hardly took them any effort, at that.”

As for the words he did not say aloud, though his zanpakutō understood as though they were spoken? None of us should have survived the war, least of all me. We got off lucky.

However, it was more than just fear. More than just helplessness. Hopelessness. Despair. Desperation.

「 ...so what do you intend to do, the next time your world threatens to fall around you? 」

There was one more feeling that took root in his soul, though buried within the chaos of the last day.

Memories of his own last stand proved... hazy, given he would only remember waking up in the 4th Division barracks after the dust settled at last. But, Kōta did remember the Seireitei, though ruined, returning in front of his eyes after days spent skulking, fleeing, hiding, and fighting within the city of shadows.

Then lights fell from the heavens, by the dozens, and from their descent rose those... things.

「 The next time providence itself chooses to become your enemy? 」

Squawking, shrieking, swearing vengeance in the name of their perfect, almighty god-king. Threatening to raze the one relief he found in his home materializing before him to ashes, after he thought it truly lost forever. After he finally had a moment to breathe—let alone recollect himself—when he reunited with those who still remained from the 13th. After they already took Captain Ukitake from them.

It was coming back to him, albeit in pieces, that those bird-beasts were so. Fucking. LOUD. Like a sickening cacophony of dissonant trumpets gleefully tearing into whatever peace of mind he still held on to, blaring into his ears lest he turned deaf.

The spark of hope he felt that that some of the normalcy he loved could return at all, only for someone to dare rip it away from him again, ignited something else.

「 The next time someone dares to stand in the way of your peace? 」

WRATH.

He stopped caring about power gaps.

He stopped compromising on what best approach there was to take.

He stopped worrying about whether he and his own would live to see tomorrow.

All he wanted was to see those Quincy bird things dead. Rally whoever among his men could still fight, and order the remaining ones to safety.

So, he brandished Hai’iro Ranmaru.

He saw Kira Izuru, a man who inexplicably stood while half his own torso was missing, going in as the vanguard against those lording, sanctimonious monstrosities.

Thus, Kōta summoned his cavalry.

Charged like a roaring typhoon, with a great fury he had not shown again since.

Fought until he could stand no longer, having slain one beast after the next with only red in his eyes.

The wrath he felt in those memories of the past simmered under his own skin in the present.

「 The Ryōhei Kōtarō I saw that last day, who did not let such fears hold him down... 」

Kōtarō was not alone in the cabin anymore. Not there one moment, there the next he blinked. It was enough to jolt life back into the shinigami, but he showed no fear before the intruder, for there stood the one same hermit he saw countless times within his inner world, now far and away—or a mere five steps away?—from the cloud sea it inhabited.

The same priestly kimono, with the same yuigesa. The same hauchiwa fan at his hip, with black feathers from the same black wings folded at its back.

Although, it was not the familiar face of a wise old bird Kōtarō would see. No, that mask fell away when Hai’iro Ranmaru made himself corporeal.

“...would break free from his cage, by tempering that same rage worthy of my power.”

Even his voice had changed with his younger, more human-like appearance, sounding smoother than Kōtarō had ever recalled hearing, almost melodious in his chiding. Next to one another, one could swear they looked like twins. The swordsman himself would have realized it as well, had he not sat there on the floor of his childhood home, looking shellshocked.

It did not immediately sink in that, at long last, his zanpakutō spirit materialized before him.

“If you can confirm to me you are worthy?”

It did not yet click that, indeed, he proved to possess the aptitude for Bankai after all.

“If you can show me you can rise above that fear?”

It did not come to mind that his years of training have finally, against all the odds, paid off.

“If you can prove that by besting the hells of yesteryear once again?”

No, above all else...

“Then I will gladly bend the knee to you...”

...what really stood out to the soul reaper was...

“...so that, as my master, you may soar to-”

“What the fu—YOU WERE YOUNG THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

“THAT IS WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO FOCUS ON?!”

[jewishicequeen]

The space jail one for anyone

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in space jail with you of all people.”

I tried to think of a fandom I know for sure you're part of, and figured out Avatar's the safest bet. Weither it's Shippy or not you can decide yourself, I didn't write it with one of them in mind. It's during book 2, but without/before the last episode.

°°°

"You've been blasting the walls an HOUR by now. I don't think they're budging."

"Oh, exuse *me* that I'm trying to get us out of here, Mr. Ruspy-Voice-I'm-Not-Gonna-Take-My-Mask-Down!" The waterbender complained. "Like, seriously, you've done *nothing* but sitting there crossed legged and staring at me creepily since you came in. Maybe consider HELPING me?"

"You're doing a pretty good job by yourself." What is he supposed to say? I'm not gonna help you because you'd find out I'm a firebender and move to try and drawn me instead?

Not to mention, *the* firebender.

Yes, he'd really rather stay annoying and unhelping, thank you.

"Damn it!" She blasted the wall once again with a water corrent, so forcefully some ricocheting drops has reached him, all the way to the other side of the room. "Damn it!" She yelled again, slumping on the bench beside him, not bothering to gather up the wet subtence on the floor.

"And to think just this morning I was arguing with Toph that aliens aren't a thing. She's probably having the laugh of her life right now." She mumbled.

"I don't think those are aliens, really." He said, before he could shut his mouth. Ugh, really? The more he talks, the more likely she is to recognize his voice! "More like... angry spirits." He finished awkwardly, trying to avoid her horrifing gaze. He didn't KNOW what she learned in the north pole, but he LEARNED to respect her since then. Somewhere there, she became SCARY.

"Nope. There's NO WAY those are spirits." She said finally, shaking her head. "Spirits do stuff because we BOTHER them. I didn't do anything."

Oh man, she never heard Fire Nation spirit storied, did she? Poor naive water peasent. He sighed. "Whatever." He pulled the mask lower, leaning on the wall next to her. "What's sure, we're not getting out of here by force." He gestured to the puddle on the floor.

"Nope." She stretched, yawning. "Gosh, I wish Sokka was here. He'd get us out."

"Hmm? I thought he was a non-bender." He appriciated regular weapons like every avarge person- heck, his sword skills proved it was often more useful then bending- but he couldn't see how a club will be more useful in this situation then the numbros ice blocked Katara tried to throw at the door earlier.

"Not for force, for his mind. He'd have a good id-" she swirled toward him violantly. "How do you know he's a non-bender?" She asked, dangerously.

Oh shoot.

"You mentioned him earlier." He said hurriedly, his hand reaching to a sword that wasn't there.

"I definitally did not." She raised her hands aggresively, and he was painfully aware to the water surrounding them allowing her some wonderful weapon.

"Sure you did." He said faintly, no where NEAR believable.

She narrowed her eyes, taking him in. His height. His voice. His sheer annoyingness.

She groaned with disgust, taking a step back and looking at him like he's a dead bug on the soles of her shoe. "Zuko?!" She claimed half offended, half furious.

He scrumbled to a stand, raising his hands in surrounder. "Look," he said, defensibly, "We'll gain nothing from fighting eachother now so let's-"

"I can't believe I'm sitting in a space jail with YOU of all people! And talking to you, UGH!" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Of course it's you, only a FIREBENDER could be such an insufferable, lazy piece of-"

"Well, you aren't much of a company either!" He snapped, raising his mask up. "With your 'oh dear, we're so stuck, I miss my brother he'd know what to do and also oooooooh if you just help me we'd get out of here in no time-" he knocked on the wall, irritated. "It's METAL, kid. What were you expecting to achive, attacking it with WATER?" He realized too late that he should shut up, knocking her fist aside. Another one was soon to follow, and a wave after wave of cold water, too close and too fast for him to actually manage to bend an effective flame without hurming himself as well.

"You arrugant- selfish- EVIL prince with your iron soldiers and your silk wardrob, thinking you have the privilege to TAKE the world's hope-" she huffed, standing just before him, not letting him enter a word, say that he's given that up, he's not after them anymore and he just want to go back to Uncle's teashop and can she PLEASE not stand so close to him cause that's kinda distracting- "You snaky, filthy, son of a-"

"Well, I don't want to bother you, Kat, but are you gonna get out of there, or not?"

What...?

Both of them turned their heads, to see her brother standing beside the now wide open door, shaking his head. "-because it was kind of a fuss to find you, just so you know, and while getting here with Aang wasn't so hard, we left Toph to guard us in the human world and I really don't want to get back and find out that our supper is gone because she was bored."

Another head popped in, bald with an arrow. One too familiar. "Is she coming? The spirits are getting kinda irritated here- oh, hey Zuko." He waved. "Your uncle said you won't attack us if we help you out which I REALLY hope is true because, you know, you wanna get out of here too. Probably."

Katara let go of him, slowly. "...you *knew* he'd be here?"

"Well, since the spirit who took you two looked pretty much the same, yeah." Sokka said, brightly, waving a piece of paper. "Apparently his uncle DOES recognize my drawings, by the way." He told her, cockinly.

"It looks like a tree that's been run over by a platyphus bear, Sokka."

"I told you they were spirits." Zuko said quietly, stepping stifly out of the room.

"Shut up."

[thedreamingscorpio]

Undulations

Chapter 1

Hey guys, this is my first project and I’d love to hear your views and opinions on my work. I kinda got this idea from a song, and I’m not really sure about the finer details of the story, but I’ve got a broad idea, let’s see how it pans out!

Really excited!

Love Always!

Goten sighed. He was tired and did not feel like doing anything more at the moment. About two years back he had started working as a veterinary doctor, and although his job was very demanding, he sure wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.

After all, no matter what anybody thought he had worked very hard to be where he was today and nobody could tell him otherwise. He may not be as innately smart as Gohan, or a genetic genius like Trunks, but he was not to be mistaken to be a run-of-the-mill product, and he had proved himself by becoming a vet.

Or so he thought…

His mother though happy that he was his own man now, would occasionally slip up and let it known how much happier she would’ve been had he become a medical doctor instead. Although she tried to cover up immediately after, it still hurt, and her covering up somehow only managed to make it worse.

Ah well….

Honestly, Goten loved his job, no matter the hours, the sometimes outright bizarre conditions, or the criticism he received on a daily basis, he worked a job that combined his love for animals and making people happy, isn’t that all that matters?

Given the amount of studying he dedicated himself to, he knew he could’ve become a medical doctor, but contrary to people’s thinking he had willingly chosen to become a vet instead, since he was good with animals and it was far less demanding than the other option.In the end, he figured the only person he needed to make happy was himself and…

Ring Ring

His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call, he glanced at the wall clock, 9:50, hmm, odd time to be receiving a call, he checked the caller ID, Bulma…oh, he kinda wished it’d had been Trunks instead but since he got married 4 years back nothing had been really the same since.He shook his head to clear his mind and and picked up his still ringing cell phone..

“Hello?”

“Oh, hey Goten how are you?”

For a brief moment, Goten debated as to whether he should give her the honest truth, but then sighed and decided to stick with a conversational, “I’m doing good Bulma, and you?”

“Well I was just wondering as to when was the last time that all the Z fighters were together, and since I couldn’t recall, I figured it just had been too long!”

Now that he thought about it, even he couldn’t remember the last time that happened, wasn’t it Trunks’ wedding?, but no his father hadn’t been there, not that it was anything out of the ordinary…

“Uh huh..”

“…Yeah, so I was thinking of hosting a get-together coming Saturday…”

He didn’t like where this was going..

“…yeah and since Goku is also here for a change,and not wandering off like a monkey…hey…you’re there right?”

“…uh, yeah…yeah sure Bulma!" 

"Wow, well that was easy, so then your dinner this Saturday, to be hosted by the Capsule Corp, ooh…I already like the sound of that, you’re such a good kid Goten, see you then!”

“..yeah..Bul..”

Sigh.

He really wanted to know what his best friend was up to, since their times together were few and far in between, not that anyone was to be blamed, after all you can’t expect the president of a multi-trillion dollar company to be free for playdates.

No. He wasn’t gonna do that, he was no better either and his mother left no opportunity unfounded to remind him of that.

He was doing it again damn it. That’s it. Too much work for today, time to turn in.

So he got off the couch, fully intending to sleep, cleared the take-out containers from the table and opened the door to his bedroom and laid down on the flannel sheets his mother had given him. As soon as he hit the bed, he was out like a light.

Not that it helped any.

The morning after his restless night, he was rudely awakened by a frantic knock on the front door, he squinted at his alarm clock…4:37, flashing blearily at him in red.

He was pissed, beyond pissed, scowling he sprinted off his bed, with just one intention, to give the shitty person who dared to disturb him at this ungodly hour, a piece of his mind…

“Who the heck do you think you…”

He opened the latch and was met with a very apologetic looking young woman, and in her arms a dog he could recognize anywhere, Cepheus. 

He always wondered who was the owner of the said bearded collie, not only was his name a little strange for a dog, but he also acted like it.

Apparently, Cepheus was named after a constellation, which basically stood for ‘The King’, and although his breed weren’t commonly shy, they weren’t aggressive either, so for him to come across a fussy and arrogant bouncing beardie was quite a surprise.

Though he was used to it by now, he was his most frequent patient, at merely 1.5 years , he sure had a lot of health issues. He often thought about having a word with the owner personally, both for medical reasons and out of sheer curiosity, but never really got the chance, that is until today…

As soon as he caught site of the young woman, his words died in his throat, she was a crying mess, with her hair all disheveled, shivering uncontrollably, from the cold or from whatever had upset her he did not know.

He tapped into his role as a vet and saw the bored looking face of the beardie, no surprise there and realized he must be the reason for her torment. 

He noticed the woman was still in her pajamas, and still shivering and crying inconsolably so, swallowing his long forgotten anger and irritation, he put a hand on her shoulder.

She jumped and looked at him as if she just realized where she was, her green eyes suddenly wide.

He flinched slightly, not the best move on his part,but felt relieved when a sense of reality returned to her, and she was back to being red-faced and decidedly shy.

“Come on in, let’s talk about it, over some tea..”

Facing the ground, she only nodded.

[pinkykitten]

I was tagged by @writing-with-melon I hope my answers aren’t complete waste or if time and if so I’m sorry and I love you

Rules: Answer ten 10 questions, ask 10, and tag 10 people

1. What song automatically plays in your head when you look out the window on a long drive? 

i dont really have an answer for this. i think i just automatically think about any song ive been listening to recently or any song that has been stuck in my head. 

2.  Do you have some snacks nearby when you write?

well i live in a two story house so the kitchen is downstairs and im usually lazy busy so since i have a mini fridge upstairs i just usually get water to drink while im writing. its kinda hard to eat and write cuz i loose focus really easily so when i am writing i am writing! i am in the zone! but if i am a little hungry ill usually snack on candy like chocolate kinder joys i love them but they r so expensive or snack on chips but i get like salt on my fingers or i like cheetos so cheetos dust and that just gets everywhere and later my hands and keyboard kinda smell like fart. 3. What do you do to combat creative burnout?

so burnout happens to me a lot so to get inspiration i either read other stories or fanfics which gets my head gears turning or i admire a piece of art or photography or a song. whats so unique and satisfying with writing you can explore and go anywhere with it, hehehe erotic if you know what i mean lol jk there are no barriers with writing just your imagination. there is inspiration any where you go and id advise to never stop writing. even if its a few short sentences or paragraphs about anything even bird poop its still progression and your mind is working and your searching for words like its all good for you bby.  4. Do you use (or like to use) prompts? 

i do ill put the link here. im thinking of changing it though to do something different. 

5. What is your favorite place to write?

lol boring, i know but my room. my room is really bright in the mornings and comfortable and chill and i have a candle of the pandora ride in disney that smells like the ride so its all good and relaxing and super peaceful plus i have a picture of myself the age of like 9 on my desk idk why but it encourages me and makes me focus to make sure i never get that cringy again. 

6. What is a hobby or yous that you usually don’t talk about?

well i like working out HAHAHAHAHA jk that was a joke...get it...cuz i much rather be eatingokillstop. but i really like to draw which i have a art page you can see it if you click here pls look at my failed attempts to be hip and cool with the cool kids and being artsy fartsy. another hobby is i really like to do makeup and nail art, nail art is really tough guys no joke if you do it like you got wizard powers are something. maybe its bc my nails are shorter than pete davidson and ariana grande’s relationship, alright im trying to stop i swear!

7. Do you play an instrument? Which one?

no i wish though. i always wanted to learn to either play the piano or electric guitar cuz H.E.R looks so cool doing it. 

8. How do you feel about your handwriting?

it sucks dont even try me. my sister can barely read it like no wonder nobody wants to steal my signature heck they can’t even read it!

9. Can you tell us of a story that marked your development as a person? As a writer?

ok sit back guys, sniff a nice amount of crack and get ready for the most cringy moment of my life but also a time when i knew i was meant to be *inhale* a fanfic writer. 

so it was elementary school, i think 3rd grade and for my writing assignment we were given a prompt of idk what the heck tbh i think it was like be outside the box and im like ok imma nail this cuz im a weird child and yeah so i got my papers and pencil and i went TO TOWN on this paper. so i wrote two stories. one short story with a picture to go with it and one long story that yeah i buried years ago. so my first story was about a farmer was about that farming life. he had chickens and dairy. so i cant remember if the cheese was spoiled but doesnt matter. anywho these cheese and a chicken were alive like they could talk in the story and i gave them faces, yikes. but the whole story was the farmer was a b*tch and he was trying to eat the chicken and cheese so they hatched a plan to get away from the farmer. they did it successfully and they ran away. yay happy ending my teacher actually liked that one me too and my school mates were thinking what they heck is this girl on i made a story about how me and justin bieber made cookies for Christmas you know. so then my other story i was more proud of this one cuz it was a tone of paper, sorry trees, and this story was about how a female hippo (girl i was all about plus size and thicker girls and no body shaming) and an male ostrich were kidnapped from their own habitats and taken to become circus animals. failed version of Madagascar hey mine was before the circus movie OK THEY STOLE IT FROM MEEEEE. so they get taken and are treated to harsh punishment and the animals can talk and i think its in the point of view of the male ostrich guy thing. they are in the circus and they start to have this relationship happening. love starts blossoming its all good. im happy with this cuz i believed in love at age of 8. they find a way thru a kick butt scene of the animals escaping and the hippo and ostrich are so in love that they run away together and they have half hippo half ostrich babies and i think i named the species  hipstrich or like ostppo idk but i was so proud of this story and when my teacher read it she was worried about me lol i think she thought i might like mate these two animals like secretly idk but she was like it was ok and i was like what this is frickin William Shakespeare writing or like F. Scott Fitzgerald writing. nevertheless it taught me a lesson that nobody else needs to like what im writing the main point and only thing that matters is if your proud of it and you like it and i really did. i will remember that story forever and thats what made me want to be a writer. lol sorry that was a lot. 

10. @emdop I’m going to use this great question: Explain one of your WIPs in the most ridiculous way possible. 

wellllll im working on my peaky blinders oc story its a lot of drugs money killing weapons jewelry rich profanities like its the show but written from my stubby hands so my oc and whatever its great and so excited to show it to you guys. 

MY QUESTIONS:

1. WHAT MADE YOU WANT TO START TUMBLR?

2. IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING OF THIS WORLD, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

3. WHAT QUALITY IS IMPORTANT TO YOU?

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OUTFIT?

5. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE?

6. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG IN THE WHOLE WORLD?

7. IF YOU COULD VISIT A PLACE, WHERE WOULD IT BE?

8. WHAT SHOW OR MOVIE UNIVERSE WOULD YOU WANT TO BE IN?

9. WHAT IS THE SCARIEST MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE?

10. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE IN THIS WORLD THAN ANYTHING ELSE?

im tagging: @thatlittlered, @ardentmuse, @acciosnapes, @lotsoffandomimagines, @collecting-stories, @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms, @naughtyneganjdm, @lenahellgizibe and two random followers @spiritsent, @sucker-for-my-fandoms

i was tagged by @writing-with-melon again ty btw, ps i felt so much pressure lol jk 😊

Rules: Answer 5 questions, Ask 5 questions, Tag 5 people.

1. What is your favorite book?

fifty shades of grey hahaha naw my favorite book is obv you all know this is series of unfortunate events but i never usually cry period and i never cry for books ever so when i read mrs. tom thumb by melanie benjamin, its the part when her sister minnie dies i cried so hard idk it was just emotional the wording the way she described her pain it was so beautiful written yet so sad and that was just amazing to me cuz im like this book made me feel things and im like wow i would love to write a book one day and make someone feel something whether it be sadness anger happiness annoyance anything they are having an emotion and that is super powerful to do that with just words. pls go check out that book its a good read. also im a fan of the greatest showman so i really enjoyed it. there are many other books tho that i thoroughly enjoy so much. 

2. What piece that you’ve written are you most proud of?

oh my god ive always wanted to be asked this question hands down i am always proud of my platonic gender neutral tony stark fic called in·con·sol·a·ble window to me i wrote it so sad and i was feeling like depressed lol when i saw peter die in infinity war like i didnt know what to do with my life tbh but im so glad that @impetrichorny requested it tysm i just like how its not based on romance or fluff or happiness it is based on when you lose someone the nightmares and sadness you go through and that there is nothing nobody can do about it except just be there for that person so i really like writing angst and something that was out of the box. ive been thinking tho of doing a part two since the fate of all the characters has changed after endgame. who knows tho. 

3. What is the last song that inspired you? 

well for art it would have to good news by mac miller when i did that kobe bryant memorial on my art page. i dont want to give it away though but ill just say some very powerful womens music inspired my oc writing and making. 

4. How do you feel about letting people read what you write?

at first i was scared cuz i thought i wrote like trash which that feeling kinda doesnt go away like some days i feel that way others i feel confident or it depends on the request it just depends but anyways i was always insecure about my writing so when i started writing it was more like lets see how this goes if not ill delete the whole page. im glad to say it went great but in the begging it was hard cuz i kept putting myself down but i learned to accept or just understand that you keep learning with writing you always learn knew things with writing how you can explain something better or you words get more intricate and people see the improvement and you do too thats why i applaud those who dont speak english that english isnt their first language. you are doing a tremendous job and keep practicing cuz you’re gonna make it to the top. ive also learned that some days are not my days and you can take time off when youre not feeling it when you have writers block. just recollect your juices sip some tea go to the beach relax your mind a little and take as long as you need to come back and give it your all. also comments and reblogs and likes a follows those meant so much to me and encouraged me. thats why i cant express it enough how much all those mean to writers, artist, photographers, anybody who is truly trying their hard in this area of social media. its makes a person happy smile and confident in their writing but first train your mind into loving what you make not what others thing. you have to be happy with the outcome that is what truly matters and what makes your writing the best. look at me getting philosophical. 

5. Do you get distracted easily? If yes with what?

yes and with porn haha i get distracted easily like very easily homeschooling was really tough for me. music distracts me, netflix, the urge to watch david dobrik or unus annus or buzzfeed unsolved on youtube, heck my farts distract me. i gotta be like troy bolton i gotta get my HEAD IN THE GAME!

MY QUESTIONS:

1. IF YOU COULD BE NAMED SOMETHING ELSE, WHAT WOULD YOU BE NAMED?

2. WHAT PERSON INSPIRES YOU THE MOST?

3. IF YOU KNEW THE WORLD WAS ENDING TOMORROW WHAT WOULD YOU DO TODAY?

4. WHAT DO YOU OFTEN THINK ABOUT IN THE SHOWER?

5. WHATS YOUR WEIRD COMBINATION FOOD?

im tagging: @thatlittlered​, @ardentmuse​, @acciosnapes​, @lotsoffandomimagines​, @collecting-stories​ AND WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS IF YOU FOLLOW ME OR LIKE MY STORIES TAG ME ILL READ YOUR ANSWERS. HOPE I DID THIS RIGHT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING MWUAH 

[captaingondor]

Okay, but if you're still looking for romantic prompts, how about Character A saying I love you to Character B without using the words "I love you." (Through actions, or an "as you wish" situation. That kinda thing.)

Thanks for the prompt!!For this, I wrote about probably my favorite of my OC ships. Tragically I probably won’t be able to show as much of their relationship as I’d like in the work itself, and neither of them is the perspective character. This is fortunate in that  I can write whatever I want for self-fanfic without stepping on the main narrative’s toes, and unfortunate as I want to just write their whole relationship basically which made this a little hard to pare down. Hope y’all love them too!If you want some dramatic irony, also read this piece I wrote with Corrianne earlier. And, if you are curious, the correct way to pronounce her name is ‘cor-ee- AHN,’ with a French R sound.

How Empress Corrianne Learned to Speak Her Husband’s Language

When they married, Corrianne could not speak to her new husband.

Like most nobility around the continent, she had never studied Pelasian. Even centuries later, the fears birthed by the Speaker Wars lived on. No mage could twist your mind to his will if you couldn't understand the words he needed to do it. (Of course, now Pelasia had grown to power anyway without the use of mind-altering magic, so maybe it had all been for nothing.) And the Emperor, it seemed, had never bothered to learn any language but his own native tongue.

Corrianne studied and practiced until she was able to carry on something of a conversation with him without going through her ladies-in-waiting or his translator. The Emperor could not even say her name right.

But chipping away at the language barrier was not aiding their communication to the level that she had thought it should. True, she did not mind the extent to which he left her to herself - she had encouraged it. No, the Emperor was simply a hard man to understand. So she told herself, and so she held firmly in believing.

She could not have said when she first started noticing a difference.

***

He knocked at the door between their suites late in the evening, when she had retreated to hers from the court but not yet prepared herself for bed. He always knocked - these rooms remained hers, not his. The first few times he’d done this, she’d sent one of her maids to answer instead and give her regrets. When he proved unfailingly polite to them, and did not push past her excuses, she decided this could be allowed and came to the door herself. He never demanded her presence, or even requested - a request from the Emperor was little less than a demand. He merely gave an offer - he had ended his work for the day and would be in his sitting room, and would welcome her company if she wished to join him.

“I usually take this time for some quiet when I can… read for a bit by the fire, have a glass of wine… but if you would like to talk instead -” His eyes flicked to the maid murmuring all his words in Corrianne’s ear. ��Perhaps practice your Pelasian?”

He had not offered to practice his Ruveldin, or even Idan, so that time she had refused. But she didn’t really want to spend the rest of her life married to a man that she would not talk to, so the next time she had accepted.

She’d been worried about his intentions that time, though he’d never touched her without her permission. But he really had just sat by the fire with his book and offered her a glass of wine, and did not press her unduly for conversation when she opened her own book. They made a few simple comments to each other on their day, and what they were reading, and spent the rest of the evening in silence together. She wondered how many times he’d had two glasses brought up, hope. She wondered if he’d left a few dregs in each to keep the servants from talking. She felt a little bad, but only a little.

She’d come over many times since then, and it had almost become a little ritual between them. They did not always spend the time reading silently - she truly did wish to practice her Pelasian, and he proved a patient conversation partner.

This time when he knocked, she answered with a smile and stepped through before he even needed to make his offer. She carried a book with her, but did not open it immediately when she sat down, and so he did not reach to pick up his own.   “Thank you for joining me.” Even now that it was a regular occurrence, he thanked her. “I enjoy your company. I have little time to myself, but this has been an improvement on solitude.”

She had not thought the Emperor one to seek out solitude. He demanded the attention of the world. Perhaps she had misunderstood him. She smiled politely and asked him about his day. He was a man of routine; she knew the words he would use to speak about that well enough to follow, better than whatever that declaration had been.

***

They were at dinner, which was rarely a private affair. There were always people at court to entertain. But today was no great feast or party, only a regular meal, and while the Emperor’s attention might as ever be demanded at any time, at present Corriane and her husband were left to converse among themselves as they ate, should they choose to.

They did not always. Corrianne preferred practicing her Pelasian when they were in private, and going through a translator was more clunky than casual dinner conversation with her husband ought to be. And besides, it was dinner, and their main focus was eating.

But today, he chose to strike a conversation up. “Have you heard from your sisters lately?”

She’d received a letter from Everrie just that day. Perhaps he’d had mail come in from Ruveld as well, or seen the messenger bring it in. Or perhaps it was a lucky guess, though that seemed less likely. “I have.”

“And how are they?”

A few times, early on, when the Emperor had asked about her family, she had wondered if he were fishing for information on them, for his schemes or politics. But that had been silly. Surely he had plenty of sources for that without her.

“Both are well. Also my father, and -” She paused. She did not know the proper word for stepmother or half-brother. But he knew that they were her stepmother and half-brother, of course, there was no need to explain it to him. “And his wife, and Alairon.”

“Glad to hear it. Your younger sister’s birthday was coming up, wasn’t it?” He didn’t try to say her name - maybe he’d seen Corrianne wince as he mispronounced hers too many times.

“Yes, they had just celebrated it when Everrie wrote me.”

“She could handle planning for it without you, then?”

Oh. He had remembered, from the last time Everrie wrote. She had told him how Everrie was used to following her lead for social events, how she had been so frantic about taking it on herself, how she had wanted to prove she could step up to the task without leaning too heavily on their stepmother. She hadn’t passed on all of Everrie’s pouring out her heart - she did not think she’d have like the Emperor to hear all of it - but she liked to talk about home, and it was a good subject for her to use in practicing her conversation. And, she realized, her husband had been very attentive in asking her about her sisters. He had been since the first time she brought it up.

“It was as I told her, she -” She hesitated, and finished the sentence in Ruveldin for his interpreter to pass on. “She is more competent than she gives herself credit. She just needed to get her time of worrying out of the way and put her mind to it.”

“Still, they must miss you at home. You light up my court so, I can see it would be hard to lose you.”

She hardly knew how to respond to that, and took a bite so that she would not have to.

***

One of her ladies reported to Corrianne that her husband had had a gift sent to her rooms, so she came to them and found the box set on a table. She opened it to find a delicate golden hair comb, set with many small, deep red gems. Beautiful, and very much to her taste. She wondered if he had picked it out himself.

It was hardly the first gift he had given her. Fine cloth for her dresses, a dark bay riding horse, expensive jewelry, books - ones that he thought she would enjoy, or Pelasian translations of ones she had to help in her study. Some she had written off as no more than what might be expected from the Emperor to his wife. The others had confounded her. What did he mean by them? Was he trying to buy her affections, to keep her and thereby her father’s kingdom sweet? Did he wish to flaunt his wealth and power?

But none of those thoughts came to her now - only a desire to find her husband so she could thank him for it.

She made a few inquiries and was glad to be able to find him alone, going over his correspondence. He looked up, and smiled when he saw her. She’d never noticed before how different that smile looked from the one she saw him wear in public, how his eyes brightened with it. He nodded at the comb she clutched in her hand.

“You like it?”

She nodded. “It is -” It is lovely, she wanted to say, but could not find the right word as she filed through her Pelasian vocabulary. “It is very nice.”

He stood up from his desk and walked over to her. “I thought it would look well with your hair.” His eyes lifted to the honey-gold braids crowning her head as he spoke. He hesitated a moment, and then held out his hand. “May I?”

She passed the comb to him, and he slid it into her hair as though he were one of her maids. Her husband stood back, and looked at her admiringly for the space of several second, before frowning.

“I’m sorry - I don’t have a mirror here for you to look at it -”

She smiled softly. “I am sure you put it in straight. Thank you.”

“I’m happy you like it, Corrianne.” He stumbled over the r, and tried again. “Cor - Corrianne -”

It still was not right, but she smiled anyway. “I understand, Seyetto.” And she set her hands on his shoulders, pushed herself up on her toes, and kissed him.

[vadnyl]

Major Discovery: BotW’s Adventure Log = Link’s Diary?!

SERIOUSLY.

(Spoiler Alert)

At this point, our beloved game Breath of the Wild has been out for around half a year already. If you have played the game, you are probably very familiar with the Adventure Log feature in BotW that helps you keep track of all your missions and side quests. Or else its pretty much impossible to remember if you were catching chickens for this guy or collecting weapons to show that kid who’s boss.

But here’s the thing- Have you ever thought about the Adventure Log’s origin? Who or what is helping Link keep track of his missions?

If your answer is the Sheikah Slate or the “system”, which is what I’ve always thought, I’m gonna go ahead and assume you own an European/American copy of the game. Because apparently, in the Japanese version of the game, there is evidence that shows that LINK is the one who wrote the adventure log to keep track of his own journey.

“Ok… So what?”

So Link wrote the Adventure Log. Big deal. It’s not like this is gonna change the gameplay in any way.

…True. However, Link didn’t JUST record his missions in the Adventure Log. According to the Japnese version, Link would often type up some of his own thoughts and comments on what he was doing aside from his current objectives. This could give us a deeper insight of Link’s character.

Here’s an example:

This is what shows up after you complete The Hero’s Sword quest. The content of the two versions are very similar, but notice the use of “自分” (myself) in pic 1. This is evidence that the adventure log is written by Link, who’s talking about himself in first person narrative, instead of “the system”. With that in mind, the Japanese version can be translated to:

(I) Finally retrieved the legendary Master Sword. (I) Don’t know if it’s just an illusion, but the sword itself seems to be delighted about this.

To this moment, Princess Zelda is still inside Hyrule Castle, fighting to suppress the Calamity.

She is still holding on to the faith in me, believing that I will definitely come for her…!

But with the power (that I have) now, can she really be saved (by myself)…?

You see what they did there?

The English version replaced every first person pronoun Link has used with “you”!

As someone who owns an American copy, and has never set the system language to Japanese, I was absolutely SHOCKED when I was told about this (credits at the end).

Remember how we could find diaries of NPCs all across Hyrule? Link’s was right under our noses this whole time!

Now that you know about this, does your adventure log seem a bit different from before?

(I) finished visiting all 13 of the locations in the old pictures. I remembered everything I’ve been through together with Princess Zelda.

In those memories (of mine), Princess Zelda always strived to complete the task burdened onto her…

Even if it’s just a moment sooner, (I) want to save her as quickly as possible

(I) want to see her smile again, with these eyes (of my own).

The translation on this one is just OFF. I can’t believe the English version completely omitted the last part, and replaced it with some kind of mission instruction.

Link has been fighting all this time to see Princess Zelda’s smile again with his own eyes.

 ...*sniff*

Not to mention those side quest logs. Once you realize that all of the entries were written by Link himself, the seemingly trivial information recorded in those suddenly opens up so many more hidden sides of Link. It basically re-introduced Link as someone with normal human emotions instead of the silent hero depicted throughout the game.

The caring Link, who was worried about a girl he only met twice for putting herself in danger:

…(I) ventured inside and found part of the Royal Guard’s Series, famous among equipment collectors.

When those were shown to Parcy, the traveler at the stable, her curiosity about it seem to be provoked more than ever (by me). (I) Hope she won’t do anything reckless…

The compassionate Link, who felt glad for other peoples’ happiness:

…

As a sign of appreciation for bringing the town together and as compensation for the work done (by me), a hefty amount of gems that were unearthed during the town’s construction were given by Hudson (to me).

(I) wish the couple could live happily ever after.

The reckless Link, who apparently felt thrilled when he managed to knock out some monsters with his new companion:

(I) captured the giant horse in Taobab Grasslands

So that’s why. It’s indeed a really big horse. It trampled whatever kind of monster in its way with ease when it galloped. That was really cool.  

When it was brought back to Straia (by me), he was very surprised.

Link the foodie, who carefully noted down new recipes he learned along the way for future use: 

(I) brought Kiana the goat butter and hearty blueshell snail required for cooking seafood paella. She shared some of the dish (with me) as thanks!

/////Recipe/////

The playful Link, who tried to mimic the way Gorons speak- by adding “goron” at the end of every sentence- after he passed the Test of Will and became one of the bros:

……

Ah… (I) kinda want to write down Kabetta’s Bro Motto, but there’s not enough space goron?

That’s too bad goron…

The empathetic Link, who felt nervous for the guy in this side quest, then relieved when the couple finally got together:

…and… THIS:

The last line on the left is the Japanese equivalent of What the heck…

I guess the statue is a bit too weird even for our great adventurer.

Finally, we have the entry that shows up after you complete the DLC trial:

(I) finally conquered the merciless Trial of the Sword.

……

(I believe that) Princess Zelda would be quite happy about how much I’ve improved

As we all know, Breath of the Wild is a game that focuses a lot on the freedom given to the players. Even the main story line is broken down into the form of memories, waiting for the players to find. As the players venture on into the wild, they would eventually find the information they need to learn about this world. The amazing amount of details you can find about Hyrule and its people is an important reason why BotW is so attractive.

On the contrary, the info available about our protagonist is very limited. The only piece of description that directly describes Link is in Zelda’s diary, where she points out that he is a very quiet person, and that’s it for our hero.

…NOT!!

Link had always had the most extensive character description. Right under our noses.

Nintendo got us. They got us GOOD.

But now we know.

SIX months after the game’s launch.

…Better late than never.

End.

P.S.: Fun fact about BotW Link- he seems to like the sand seal game a lot. Of all the entires about racing minigames, the sand seal game is the only one where Link wrote “(I’ll) try to get a better score next time!”

He’s so adorable I can’t //////

CREDITS

Disclaimer: I did not discover this.

This discovery was made by a Chinese gamer @atomaruU about a week ago. To make sure that her theory is correct, she cross referenced the English version of the game, only to discover that the language is completely emotionless and robotic. Therefore, to allow more people to see who Link REALLY is, I was asked to write this post based on the Chinese article she published. 

Her Twitter: https://twitter.com/atomaruU

Tweet Link: https://twitter.com/atomaruU/status/902172455661211649

Chinese article Link: http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404145837893616605

Pic credits: @lulubuu0609 (She’s an amazing artist btw check out her blog)

Hope you enjoyed this :3    

[mcutrio]

Released (CW) [16.5]

Released (CW) [16.5]

Note: basically a filler chapter, hence the .5, short and kinda boring. can skip but it clears a lot of things up basically. i actually hate this djshdlkdsh

Tags: @buckys-little-monster @imaginesofeverykind @kaydeinkf​

Kat was slumped in the corner of her cell, her eyes remaining closed as her body grew used to the sound of the door clanking open and shut rather than becoming hopeful over the possibility that Steve had come to his senses and would be willing to set her and Tabitha free. However, at the sound of soft shoes tapping across the tiled flooring and Tony clearing his throat, she jerked her eyes open.

He had his hands buried in his trouser pockets and a grave, pinched look on his face. Tabitha perked up herself, leaning forwards towards the clear glass of her cell.

“Just about everyone and their mother is talking about you,” Tony told them, “it’s been a helluva month trying to avoid questions about you.”

“Isn’t that what you do best?” Kat asked, perking a brow.

“Tony, what’s going on?” Tabitha pressed, feeling an uncertain wave of emotions shrouding him. “Is everything okay?”

“Everythings fine,” Tony nodded, “just… gained some perspective this weekend, is all,” he sighed, his eyes drifting aside for a moment. The two girls felt unusual, given the fact that Tony rarely unveiled his vulnerability. However, it was quickly guarded with his snarky smile. “And recently, countries have been agreeing to a new law that they’re trying to pass. The Sokovian accords -- ‘Oversight’.”

Kat and Tabitha exchanged a look through the cell wall between them before staring at Tony again, wondering what these accords were.

“It’s basically the government pulling on the reigns of the Avengers, telling them where and what they need to do if they think it’s necessary.” He shrugged, “it’s something that needs to be done -- and it could clear up your record, if only you agree to sign it.”

Tabitha frowned, “but what if there’s something we need to do and they don’t let us?”

“Then we don’t need to do it,” Tony shot back, nodding at the two before backing out of the room. “Sleep on it.”

Kat pondered over this for a moment, her mind whirring with thoughts. Tabitha caught her doing this and frowned, astounded that Kat, of all people, would even considering allowing the government to control her and her choices.

“You can’t be serious,” Tabitha breathed out, her brows pinching together. “This is insanity, Kat.”

“How?” Kat questioned, looking distant with thought. “It… it makes a lot of sense.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tabitha shook her head, confused. “The Government is no different from Rumlow--”

“Don’t say that,” Kat snapped, eyes hard and cold in response to his name. “This is nothing like Rumlow and you know it isn’t.”

“I know it’s hard to talk about, Kat, but it’s true,” Tabitha reinforced, “the government preach freedom yet require control in order to reach it. Does that remind you of anything?”

Kathryn’s eyes fell to the floor, her expression wavering. She shook her head, signifying she did not have the energy to argue and sat down on the platform that stood as their makeshift beds in the cells. However, it was clear that both girls had made their decision.

Meanwhile, Courtenay lay still on her stomach whilst Helen Cho and her small crew worked their magic with her tissue-regeneration machine that would be spending the rest of the day sewing together the burnt, shredded skin on her back. Peter was by her side as per usual, comforting and humouring her throughout the painful and boring situation. Her hypersensitivity was especially dulled due to the medication she was on, but even then the sensation of her cells forming new tissue felt like someone was knitting her skin together with sharp needles.

“I’m surprised Steve even let you in here,” Court huffed, wincing for a moment as she stared over at Peter who held a box of McDonald's beside her, feeding her fries and nuggets. She tore a golden fry from his fingers with her teeth, especially hungry. “So good.”

“Me too,” Pete admitted, “I heard about everything. Where’s Kat and Tabitha?”

“Locked away in the cells, which is where I’d be if I hadn't jumped in front of that damn bomb and shredded my back,” Court explained, “though I get it, there are cameras, they’re under surveillance twenty-four seven. Steve’s paranoid. Wouldn't you be?”

Peter nodded, offering her a nugget which she dug her teeth into. “For sure. It all makes sense. Until he can, you know… prove whatever you’re saying is true, perhaps having you locked away isn’t too bad of an idea.”

“Are you saying he’s doing the right thing?” Court rose her brow, sipping on the vanilla milkshake that Peter lifted towards her.

He shrugged, eyes widening at her warning tone. “Uh… no? I just, kind of… I understand why he’s doing it. Not that it’s okay though. Totally not cool on Cap- Steve’s behalf. He’s paranoid.”

Court smiled briefly, “it’s alright, I get it. I just wish he had some sort of trust in us. I mean, after everything… makes you feel a bit shitty, you get me? He’s a good friend,”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter felt his eyes twitch with emotion, his stomach feeling nauseous and his skin had felt uncomfortable ever since he heard the news. It was hard to digest that Court and the other two were from Hydra, knowing all the havoc they had caused. He understood and supported her, though, feeling only distaste towards the people who forced her into the lifestyle rather than her on her own. “I… what was it like?”

“What, back in Hydra?” Court asked, seemingly relaxed whilst the very thought of it made her insides itch. “It was hard, it was really hard. It was three days after my fifth birthday that I arrived there. I remember these men in all black just stormed our house, threatened my parents and… the last I saw of them was with guns to their heads. I don’t really know how it turned out for them.”

Peter winced, knowing how hard it was to lose your parents only in a different scenario. “I’m sorry.”

Courtenay, although visibly melancholic, shrugged it off. “It’s okay. I always wanted to go back to them, but… apparently, they did something wrong and I was a debt they owed. Or something. So, I probably shouldn’t miss them.”

“Still,” Peter sighed, “it’s all you knew.”

Before any more words could be uttered between them, there was a sharp beeping that indicated that the healing process was complete. Helen, who had silently overheard their conversation, swiftly disabled to the device and manoeuvred it so that Courtenay could get up. Stretching, Court felt the skin on her back; it certainly felt smooth, but there was a certain tightness to it that made it feel synthetic. Almost like her skin was too smooth. The one thing she noticed is that it wasn’t overly-sensitive like the rest of her was.

Helen suddenly uttered something to another doctor in Korean, and the doctor nodded before hurrying out of the room. A few moments later, after Court had dressed in the plain clothing they’d offered to her, Steve arrived with a file packet in hand.

“Steve,” Court immediately said, exchanging a wary look with Peter before she straightened her posture.

“Courtenay,” Steve nodded, his face blank. “How're the injuries?”

The girl immediate grasped her neck, feeling for a patch of the smooth skin that snaked over her shoulder. “What injuries?”

He smiled a little. “I’m glad everything’s going well. Otherwise, how’d you work out on the field?”

Court frowned, “are you letting us out?”

His smile grew a somewhat sarcastic lilt to the tug of his lips. “Yes; after a meeting with the team, they agreed that a majority vote would be the way to go and things are looking up for you.”

“Okay,” Court nodded, “I’m assuming Stark managed to expose us, huh?”

“That’s what I came here to show you,” Steve said, fumbling with the file in his hands. He handed it over to her, heaving a breath as he did so.

Court opened it, her eyes practically burning the paper in her hands to ash as she gazed at it, hard and heatedly. In her hands was her profile; her ID, her name, her last name.

“Stewart,” Courtenay tasted the word on her tongues, having forgotten it after so many years. “Courtenay Stewart, subject fifty-one,” she repeated. Underneath her blood types and basic characteristic information was the number of experiments she had undergone. One-hundred and fifty-seven were the total, out of an uncompleted two-hundred. On the next page was Courtenay photographed on her first mission, geared up in all black with the Hydra symbol hot on her chest and a splatter of blood on her cheek. On the next page was herself, Kat and Tabitha, all of which were emotionless, strapped with weapons, their arm raised to hail Hydra. On the last page was her WANTED picture, in which she was portrayed as a traitor to Hydra.

“I trust you,” Steve finally said, noticing that she had finished reading the booklet which she slowly passed over to Peter whose eyes were curious and longing.

“And the others?” Court asked.

“They’re okay,” Steve nodded. “There’s a lot missing from Tabitha’s background, but we put the pieces together.”

“Oh?” Court rose her brows.

“Experiments didn’t work,” Steve finalised, to which Court nodded and pressed her lips together, her eyes falling to the ground, “unless there’s something else we’re missing?”

“No,” she shot at him firmly, shaking her head. “Let them out, Steve.”

“Next stop,” Steve smiled, saluting at Courtenay as he left the room. Following close behind was the beefy men who stood guard at the door, who now no longer remained of service.

Tabitha jumped in surprise as the door heaved open not ten minutes later, and she felt her cheeks beam at the sight of Steve, who looked particularly more welcoming than usual. Kat lay on her back and had earbuds stuffed in and didn’t turn to give him attention.

“I know you can hear me,” Steve muttered, noticing the flicker of her eye as he stepped in. She clenched her jaw, her eyes remaining stiff on the ceiling. “I’m sorry that I had you kept in these cells for the past month, but it was the safest option,”

Kat tugged an earbud out, swinging her legs over and sitting upright. “The safest option? Out of how many?”

Steve ignored this and instead turned to Tabitha.

“We get it, Steve,” Tabitha inputted, “just… is Bucky safe?”

“Yes; I had him relocated to Bucharest as soon as you asked. He’s safe, I promise,” he said firmly. “The rest of the team and I are holding a majority vote later. If we think we can trust you… you’ll be let out.”

Kat rolled her eyes so hard that she felt the muscles strain. “What’s changed your mind then, soldier?”

Steve slid their pamphlets through the food shoot and they took them begrudgingly, examining them.

“Kathryn Rumlow, subject forty-seven,” Kat breathed out loud, “Rumlow.”

“Tabitha Frazer, subject forty-six,” Tabitha shot back, feeling tears come to her eyes. “I didn’t know I had a last name,” the booklet curled in her strong, shaking grip and she slid the booklet back towards Steve. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, just as Vision wandered in carelessly by shifting through the wall. Steve turned, raising a brow.

“They’ve all asked for the girl to be released,” he stated with a nod. “And Tony has requested to see Kathryn. Alone,”

Beyond Steve and Vision, Kat caught a glimpse of the Grandmaster, who waved his hand with a twitch of his finger. The sudden images of her hands around Steve’s throat and a lifeless look on his face had her overwhelmed, but she blinked it away and stepped out of the cell as soon as the door whooshed open.

The sensation of sweet freedom never felt so bitter when she knew she was let out for a purpose.

[kittenwritesstuff]

Chicks dig that

Gif’s not mine!

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Wade Wilson x reader Genres: angst, attempted rape, more angst, bad language, mild fluff Words: 2.760 Summary: Reader is attacked in an alley; Wade shows up and saves her, but says a rude comment, which makes reader mad. He tries to apologize, but to no avail, until he comes without his suit. Reader invites his for a beer and they talk, in the end finding a friend in one another - requested by @directorpercivalgraves 

A grip on a strand of your bag tightens as you round the corner and walk into a narrow dark alley. You hate that part of your work-home journey but it’s the fastest one and you don’t feel like adding ten minutes of walking to avoid it.

It always makes you uneasy and anxious. Not once have you been attacked but nevertheless, a young woman going through a dark alley is a tempting target for whatever perverts are there. And you know there are few; this morning you’ve read an article about a robber who works in your area and you hope you won’t bump into him this evening.

You have a simple wish – get home without any complications. Simple and achievable, right?

Well, not exactly. It seems that you ran out of your luck and said robber decided to wait in that particular alley. You curse under your nose, your sweaty palm sliding in the pocket of your jacket to hold a pepper gas.

“Uh-uh, don’t play with me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and give me your bag and I’ll consider letting you go,” a man, clad in black clothes with a hoodie pushed onto his face and a balaclava to cover it, steps in front of you, seemingly from nowhere. As if he just appeared out of thin air.

“I don’t have any money,” you gulp and say, wishing that your voice sounded unshaken and stronger. It resembles more of a frightened whimper and you hate yourself for that.

An adrenaline courses into your blood and through your veins; you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, your body tenses.

The robber eyes your figure and clicks his tongue.

“Now, I’ll be the judge of that. Your bag, darlin’,” he reaches out his hand, nonchalantly pushing unzipped front of his leather jacket aside to give you a peek of a pistol tugged onto his belt.

Fuck.

You ponder your options. One – you can be a good girl and give him your bag but there’s your salary inside it and you won’t have a penny afterwards. Two – you don’t give your bag, get shot, he’ll take it himself and you’ll lose your money and possibly your life.

You’re screwed regardless the decision you’ll make.

The man takes a step towards you, impatient and angry with your stalling.

“Give me that damn bag, you bitch!”

“Well, fuck you!” you say back without thinking about it and the robber growls, offended and jumps to you, pushing you onto the brick wall.

Your back hit it and you feel dizzy for a moment. Then, the man is on you, gripping at your throat as he snatches the bag with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

“Uh, no, fuck you, darlin’. Whatcha sayin’, huh? Nothin’? Though so,” he lets out an ugly laugh and your blood freezes. You’ve angered him, what if he decides to harm you apart from taking your bag?

“You took me for a fool, didn’t you?” he continues as he places your bag on the ground between his legs, his free hand now moving over your torso. You feel sick, you’d vomit if he didn’t hold you by your neck.

“Motherfucker!” suddenly, a voice calls and the attacker jerks his head in its direction. Your vision is blurry, you can’t quite make out the voice owner’s figure, you only see that he’s wearing a red suit, covering even his face.

“Who the hell are you?” your attacker spats and the red-clothed guy laughs loudly, surprising you.

“I’m your undoing, you piece of shit. Now, get your hands off that lady or I’m gonna cut off your dick.”

“Nah, I don’t think so, man. Maybe you wanna join? I’m sure that darling here doesn’t mind whether she’s fucked-“

He doesn’t get to finish as the guy in a red suit punches him in the head, successfully sending him onto the ground. Your attacker growls and spits, but red-clad guy doesn’t stop there.

He notices a gun under robber’s belt and jumps onto him, pinning him to the ground. The robber fidgets, trying to free himself from the grip but to no avail.

And you, you watch it with wide opened eyes, from your knees, which you collapsed onto as you were finally freed from attacker’s grasp. You hold onto your throat, inhaling deeply as you try to even out your breathing and calm yourself. Your lungs are on fire. Your whole body screams for you to run but you can’t move.

A sound of a gun rings through the air and you gasp seeing that your robber has just been shot. The red-suited dude lets out a disappointed whine.

“I really wanted to cut off his dick, but that fucker wouldn’t let me. Not very nice. You okay?”

“No.”

“Want me to help you?”

“Don’t touch me!” you exclaim, jumping onto your feet when he approaches you. You take few steps back, wanting to be as far away from what has just happened as you can.

“Oh, so you don’t like it rough after all?” he asks in an overly cheerful tone and, before you can think twice, you slap him and run away.

Dammit, how did everything go to shit so fast?

_____

“I don’t get it, Weasel, I’m being a sweetheart and she always shuts the door in my face,” Wade complains as he downs another shot of tequila. His friend puckers his lips and then nods.

“I don’t think that flowers or stuffed bear can make her feel better. She was almost raped.”

“I know, but I saved her!”

“Wade, what did you say before she ran away?”

“That she might have enjoyed being treated like a naughty girl…?”

“Boom!” Weasel pats the bar with an all-knowing look. “Girl gets robbed, then almost raped and you suggest she likes it. Of course, she would welcome you with open arms!”

“But I don’t even get a chance to apologize!”

“Can you blame her?!”

“No, but how can I say sorry when she slams the door every time I open my mouth?”

“Do you wear your suit when you go to her?”

“Yeah, but what does it have to do with anything?”

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Weasel shakes his head as Wade knits his brows, visibly struggling to understand.

“You were in your suit when she was attacked. She associates you in your suit with that rather traumatic experience in the alley. I’m gonna pass over what you told her and the fact that you must’ve followed her considering that you know where she lives-“

“I did not! She left her bag there and I read the address on her ID.”

“Did you at least return the bag?”

“Yeah, the same night. I left it on the doormat.”

“At least there’s that…”

“But she doesn’t want candy or teddy bear. Why, Weasel, why?”

“’Cause you’re a fucking pervert in a red suit who shot that robber in front of her.”

Wade clenches his chest and looks at his friend with a mock-offended expression.

“I am not a pervert!”

“Then go to her without your suit.”

“But I’m ugly, didn’t you notice?”

“But you won’t be in your suit. You’ll be a different guy. Kinda.”

“I never tell you this, but you are a genius, Weasel,” Wade leans over the bar and plants a wet kiss on his friend’s cheek, making Weasel’s face twist with disgust.

“Get the fuck out, Wade.”

“On my way!”

_______

You clutch a pillow to your chest as you look at the screen. You turned on a comedy to cheer yourself up but it was utterly boring and very not funny.

Frowning, you press pause and get out of your bed. You haven’t left your flat in four days, since the evening you were attacked. You called your boss and told him you’re down with a nasty flue and given that you were crying before the call, she believed you. So, you were given a week off, fortunately.

You are now going to walk a longer distance to your job, but at least you’ll avoid that damn alley. And probably the guy in red suit, but that’s not for certain.

He knows where you live. He’s been here every day, and you’re pretty sure he was the one who brought you your bag. That was sweet of him, but coming to your place day after day, with a bouquet or a teddy bear is uncalled for. You don’t want it. You want to forget and move on, but he doesn’t seem to understand, apparently convinced that he should stalk you and torment you with presence.

You start to feel like an animal, cornered and unable to escape.

You go to the kitchen, about to make yourself a chamomile tea. Maybe it will help you settle down and you’ll be able to fall asleep easily.

You put a kettle on, start the electric cooker and take out your favorite mug from the drawer. And that’s when you hear a knocking.

Instantly, your mind turns on ‘escape!’ mode and your heart skyrockets. Gripping the mug tightly, you quietly and slowly come to the door and look through a peep-hole. There’s a tall man with a cap on his head standing but you can’t see his face.

With a trembling hand you unlock your door and open it slightly.

“Hi, I’m Wade. I was here yesterday and the day before, and before. This is how I look without the suit, ta-daaa!” he outstretches his arms widely and straightens his back, grinning at you.

That’s when you notice that his face is one huge scar. Your mouth falls agape as you stare at him, not believing your own eyes.

“Liked me better with the suit on, huh? I know, I’m a walking nightmare,” he jokes, shrugging and you blink then shake your head, laughing weakly.

“N-no, it’s okay.”

He gives you a tight smile and you bite on your lower lip, not knowing how to react now. You didn’t even imagine that he looked like that under the suit. Damn, you didn’t even give a second thought about how he might look without the suit, given that you always saw him suited up.

And if you knew… you wouldn’t be so mean. You wouldn’t just shut the door in his face, you would give him a chance to at least apologize. Regret settles in your stomach, making you slightly nauseous.

“Wade-“

“Please, don’t be mad at me for coming here. I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said what I said, because I’m a stupid son of a bitch, who doesn’t know when to shut his face. Will you forgive me, Y/N?”

You nod and a small smile appears on your face.

“Yes, I will. Would you come inside and have some tea with me?”

“No, it would be difficult for you to sleep after my visit.”

“I insist. Come in,” you usher, opening the door wider and sliding aside to let Wade inside. He hesitates for a moment and you reach out and tug on the sleeve of his hoodie, dragging him inside.

Curiously, he gazes around, taking off his cap.

“It’s a nice flat. I like it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a snort as you walk to the kitchen, where the kettle whistles loudly, announcing that water is boiled.

“Or maybe you want a beer? I should have a bottle or two.”

“Only if you drink one, too. I hate drinking on my own. Makes me feel like I’m an alcoholic or something.”

“You’re funny,” you state as you stop giggling and Wade lowers his head, looking at from under his lashes, pretending to be shy.

“Oh, stop it, you…”

“Here,” you hand him a bottle of cold beer after you opened it, taking one for you, as well. You lean against the counter and take a sip, watching as Wade takes one, too.

“I, uhm. I feel that I should thank you. For saving me in that alley. It would end up much worse if you didn’t show up.”

“Naaah, don’t mention it,” he waves his hand and sits by the small kitchen table. After a moment of thinking, you sit opposite him.

“So, you’re a hero of sorts? Running around, saving damsels in distress?”

“I’m no hero, Y/N. A hero would spare the life and give the bad guy to police’s hands. I don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“’Cause there may be a chance, a very fucking tiny chance that they might get away with it.”

“So you serve justice immediately.”

“Glad that you understand.”

“How did this,” you wave your hand over Wade’s face, “happen?”

“Why do I look like that?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a long story,” he pants and grimaces.

“We have time, Wade.”

“You sure you want to hear it?”

“Yes,” you assure, nodding your head and Wade takes a breath.

“So, I was working as a mercenary before I became… like this. I met a girl, fell in love, but then just as everything was fucking well and I thought I was happy, I found out that I had a cancer. One evening, a weird dude came to a pub I was in and told me he knew that super effective way to get rid of my disease.”

“You believed him?”

“Well, not really. Not at first. But as Vanessa, my girl that is, was finding more and more ways to beat that motherfucker inside me, I went to him. I met a guy, Francis was his name but he wanted to be called Ajax.”

“Like that-“

“dishwashing liquid, yeah. Damn, that British bag of dicks promised to cure me, but he made me look like Freddy Krueger.”

“But you don’t have a cancer anymore?”

“No, Francis gave me a wonderful serum that triggered a mutation and now I am immortal. But, unfortunately, I am ugly as fuck.”

“Hence the suit.”

“Hence the suit, precisely.”

“What happened to Vanessa?”

“Francis kidnapped her, but I managed to save her and kill him. Though, she was pissed off! Fuck, I thought she’d kill me there! I apologized and she forgave me, but she said she couldn’t be with someone who fooled her for two years. I left when she was sleeping, didn’t tell her where I was going and she thought I was dead. I get it, though. I hurt her, it’s okay if she’s angry.”

“Wow. That was…” you blink and take a sip of your beer, trying to come up with a decent answer. The thing is, how can you reply to such a story?

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… well, it’s good someone’s listening.”

“You don’t have anyone to talk to?”

“I have. Blind Al will always listen to me, and since she’s blind she doesn’t flinch when he looks at me. Weasel is my best buddy, but I don’t want to burden him too much. You know, he can handle a lot, but how long can you listen to somebody’s beefing on their miserable life.”

“I can listen, Wade. In a weird way, we’re bonded, so I’m gonna be here for you, if you want me to.”

“Ohhh, you’re so sweet, Y/N! And you, if you ever want to kill anyone, I’ll gladly do it for you.”

“Thank you,” you say with a laugh and Wade grins gleefully, raising his bottle and cocking an eyebrow at you.

You promptly do the same and Wade clicks his bottle against yours, puffing out his chest.

“To the weird friendship!”

“To the weird friendship,” you repeat after him and gulp down your beer, smiling at Wade when you put the now empty bottle on the table.

“Damn, you have a deep throat!”

“Wade!” you playfully scold him, slapping his bald head and he catches your palm, holding it in both his hands.

“Forgive me, my dearest. I’m a vulgar dickhead, who’s just grateful that I met you.”

“Jesus, you’re unbelievable…” you mutter as he releases your hand, winking at you. Then, you propose a trip to the store to get more beer and some snack and Wade happily agrees. You’re surprised when you notice that it’s already late at night – you didn’t feel that so long passed as Wade and you talked.

But you’re happy that he came over tonight. You feel better having him at your side and the friendship the two of you formed is something you call a win. And, as the voice deep inside your head whispers timidly, it may blossom into something more.