#lots of stuff to do with anger and bottling shit up

[dr-spectre]

Rambling about Marina and Relatability...

I've said in the past that i relate heavily to Marie, but as i think about it further.... I think i relate more to Marina... I just read through this incredible twitter thread by @ _CSenpai_ which i shall leave at the end, but it got me to really think... "huh... Marina is kinda me fr." (Also I'm gonna get pretty personal in this post so keep that in mind too.)

Marina has very serious special interests and clearly spends a lot of time researching and engaging in these interests. She gets VERY excited when someone mentions anything remotely about her interests and takes them seriously. Which is something i do as if someone even remotely mentions Splatoon out of the blue, my chest will go "BZZZTTTT" and i get the tingles and i wanna run around my room.

She's very into machinery, video games, music and manga/comic books. Marina stays up and overworks herself when it comes to music and her interests, which is shown in the dev diaries and chat logs in Side Order and Octo Expansion. This is something i tend to do as well as I consume my special interests way into the night and i can't go to bed because I'm so damn energized. Sometimes i become so focused that i don't even notice that time has passed by for so long and before i even realise it... It's 2pm and now i want lunch.

She corrects Pearl on wizards which reminds me of the kind of stuff i say during my rambles about Callie and her arc in Splatoon 2... I get VERY picky when it comes to people using ahem.... certain words when describing the events that took place.

In the Hero vs. Villain Splatfest, she is the only one who is taking it very seriously while everyone else is smiling or expressing anger.

She's using a god damn GAMECUBE CONTROLLER AND A HEADSET! She's literally me oh my god. When i go over for parties and celebrations and someone brings out a Switch and we play Smash Bros or Mario Kart? I take that shit seriously and i can't tone back my skill level and just have fun.

Also Marina is known to have sensitivity to certain food textures including mayo and pulp in orange juice. Now i LOVE mayo personally but i HATEEEE stuff in my drinks. I am a massive texture eater and i will avoid stuff in food that ruins the texture. When i get pumpkin soup for example, if i see vegetable bits in that shit i will actually feel sick and flick the bits off of my spoon.

Marina is also seen stimming and pacing back and forth when excited. When i tend to get overly excited by myself, i will literally violently shake for a brief moment and then squeal. I'm not joking.

Marina also tends to bottle up her emotions and often lashes out onto others when it's too much for her. Which is something i tend to do... I don't often say how i feel when someone asks how am i and i often wanna scream and break something when the anger is just too much for me to contain. I end up yelling by myself and cuss like no tomorrow. I can find solace in a character who does a similar thing i do, minus the cussing lmao.

I think one of the bigger reasons on why i relate to Marina is gonna be a weird one but... She is almost always seen with her headphones. No matter what situation she is in, she always wears her headphones.

Even when she's Marina Agitando and Overlorder has taken over her body, the Controller VM acts like headphones as it covers her ears!

Now this detail about her wearing her headphones almost often might seem minor, but to me it makes me love Marina even more. I always constantly wear headphones and it's due to various different reasons. First is because i love listening to music and enjoying background noise, second, it dampens the sounds around me as i can be pretty sensitive to certain sounds. And third... well... let's just say that i live with a uh.... loud parent who... gets pretty angry, NOT AT ME! THANKFULLY! BUT... when they scream... and swear... i put on my headphones and wait for the noise to go by. It's a comfort thing for me and helps get through those... rough periods... Marina wearing those headphones often and not being judged for it, makes me feel, happy...

...uh... yeah.

ANYWAYS! Another big thing i relate with Marina on is her want for order and balance in her life. She doesn't like massive changes in her routine and wants to maintain the balance in her life.

i do not like it when my routine suddenly changes and i get upset and angry. I have a strict routine and when it gets fucked over oh MAN OH MANNNN!!!!!!!!!!!

And that last point about feeling safe and secure, as i mentioned earlier with the third point about wearing headphones... I wanna feel safe and secure... I want to feel calm... I don't want someone to suddenly shout or get upset or for my routine to change and i can't do anything about it...

The only thing i don't relate with Marina on is well... Looks. Listen, i ain't no tall black octopus woman with a noticeable figure and a pretty face HAHAHAHA! I find it kind of funny that I'm able to relate SO MUCH to someone like her when I'm some 20 year old dude who looks nowhere NEAR like her. Except for maybe height i don't know.

However, i will say, i actually don't act this excited in person, i tend to be very shy and reserved in person compared to my online behaviour. I say words in a dry manner and i don't have the best social skills. So i guess that's where the relatability for Marie comes in as well. I'm a heavy introvert and despite my need for wanting to connect to others, i would rather stay indoors than go out and meet new people to start friendships or potentially a romantic relationship... like that's ever gonna happen anyways...................

I got two brain cells. It's them.

So anyways, that was all i wanted to say! I love Marina and she's my second favourite Idol, you can probably guess who's number 1 but i ain't talking about... her... well not today anyways.

Thanks for reading!!!

The thread that inspired this blog post: https://x.com/_CSenpai_/status/1367219374948376579

[unholyhelbig]

Obsessed obsessed obsessed with Firecrest 🥺

Title: Firecrest (Part 2/???)

Read Part One

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Parental abandonment, horrible parenting, slight mentions of blood, reader has villain tendencies, and horrible grammar because I never proofread!

[A/n: I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I'm honestly really digging writing it. If this is something you guys would like me to keep going, I'll do my best. Just let me know!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

A sting worked its way through your knuckles before dissolving into a dull ache at your wrist. Sweat had started at your hairline and the small of your back before soaking through the wicked fabric of your tank-top. You could feel your shoulders cramping up. But, you’d stopped crying an hour ago. You feared that if you stopped assaulting the punching bag, then the tears would spill over again.

Lance had told you to take it easy. Your ribs had been bruised after the situation you’d left the benefit for. While you were grateful, said distraction packed a punch and you’d taken a swift kick to the gut and the side of a fire escape digging painfully into your side. It took everything in you not to throw the low-level criminal onto the pavement below.

Instead, you’d cuffed him and left him there until morning, or until law enforcement showed up. You were projecting, you were sure. But if your mother looked at you with pity one more time, you would have shoved him to his certain death.

You’d gotten out of the house and came to the boxing gym. The owner had given you your own key and it gave you enough privacy. If you had any tears left, you’d be able to shed them freely. You clenched your eyes shut and threw a solid round of punches, a scream of anguish ripping through your throat.

Two more hits and the bag became stagnant. Not the same, rocking defense that you’d been punching. You were used to the rhythmic sway and your eyes sprung open at the change in density. You’d ripped a bag before, sand spilling onto the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shouted, taking a step back. Kate Bishop was on the other side of the bag, holding onto it with a concerned stare on her features. Her annoying perfect features, despite the late time of night. You panted. “Shit.”

“I called out, but you didn’t answer. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.”

She released the bag and it swung back and fourth between you both. The chain that attached it to the ceiling squeaked in a rusted effort. Her stormy eyes flicked up nervously and then back to you. You knew that Kate used to come here with her father, her biological father, but you weren’t aware that she had the same key privileges as you.

You worked a hand through sweat-soaked hair and closed the distance to the side of the boxing ring. You used your teeth to pull open the plastic nib on your water bottle, soothed by the cool swallows. Kate watched you carefully. Her eyes roamed over your form, coated in sweat and toned from years of physical exertion.

You couldn’t stop your shoulders from trembling. Violent attempts from your body to assert it’s emotions. You could give in, and you could do so easily. But you would not. Not with Kate Bishop relinquishing her hold on the punching bag that you’d nearly turned to a pulp of sand and shredded upholstery. This wasn’t your dynamic. This wasn’t how things worked.

It was easy to take a lot of things that Kate was willing to give; a ride home from the gym, a doll that matched hers when the two of you were young, soft touches and harder thrusts. But one thing you refused to take was her pity. It leaked from her expression like a broken faucet and for some reason, that angered you.

“What are you doing here, Kate?”

“I came here to work off some extra energy. What are you doing here? I figured I wouldn’t see you for a few more months after you left the benefit early like that.”

“There was no reason for me to stick around.”

The answer fell from your lips in a deadened, emotionless tone. She clenched her jaw and then unclenched it, mulling her thoughts. There was an apprehension to her stance, even as she closed the distance between you both. She stopped just short of your fingers twitching to press against her hip, holding her in place. You lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

Another swallow of now-warm water seemed to stop the uncertainty of your movements. You hoisted yourself onto the edge of the ring with a sigh, pressing your fingertips to your temples. Kate moved silently and leaned next to you. The quiet she offered was something you took, just like everything else.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Kate asked softly. You looked at her in confusion, lilting your head to the side. “You watched me fawn over Clint Barton for years. I had his posters in my room, and replica’s of his bows, and every news story ever written about him cut out and saved in a shoebox.”

“Because he’s important to you, Katie.”

“He’s your father.”

“He’s not.” You snapped. It was harsh. You forced yourself to relax, softening your voice. “He’s not. Lance is my father, and Clint Barton is far more important to you then he is to me.”

Kate swallowed thickly and hoisted herself up next to you. Her heat was overwhelming you with comfort. You didn’t have it in you to figure out what that meant, past your petty rivalry. She smelled of fresh detergent, of the winter air that clung to her so heavenly.

Her hand tentatively moved to your knee, and you didn’t stop her. You were still trembling and stilled at her closeness. “I’m not going to see him anymore.”

“Kate,” you chuckled sadly. “He’s your hero, and he trusts you enough to take over the Hawkeye name. You can’t throw that out because of his choices, and you certainly can’t throw that out because of me. We hate each other, remember?”

A look of sadness flickered momentarily against her features. The two of you had been in a constant head to head race to prove yourselves since you were young. Kate always came in first, and you had settled with second place; in school, in sports, in forced family outings. It used to end in toe to toe screaming matches.

But, the two of you were older now, and all that built up tension was easily released with stripped clothes and thrown around insults that did nothing but stir the excitement in your gut.

Being a hero was the only thing you were better at, than Katherine Elizabeth Bishop and you were sure that was about to change with Hawkeyes diligent teaching. Lance and Bobbi didn’t need the glory that came with being an Avenger- no, they kept the secret in the term secret agent.

“Right, of course.” She sounded out, nudged you with her shoulder. “But… you can still talk to me.”

You leveled her with an unimpressed stare. Despite her suave playboy attitude that infuriated you, Kate Bishop was not subtle when she wanted something. She chewed her bottom lip, both of her eyebrows raised in an adorable attempt to ease your nerves.

“Right, you’re right, sorry.” She moved to push herself off of the mat, but you wrapped your fingers around her wrist and gave it a tender squeeze. Kate froze in place before scooting back up, even closer this time. Her words reduced to a whisper, as if trying not to scare you off. “Okay.”

“Do you know what Terrigen crystals are?”

“We learned about them last semester, inhuman history. It’s a catalyst chemical that binds with red blood cells that are receptive to change.”

“Impressive.” You gave her a wolfish smile. “When I was growing up, my mom gave up her solo-agent status and conceded to joining a team, and one of their first missions together was to find, and retrieve these Terrigen crystals, the only ones in the entire world. They were meant to contain them, and nothing else, but things rarely go as planned.”

You were sure that Kate knew about the broken crystals that had leaked into the push and pull of the ocean. Fish naturally consumed the microscopic agent and soon, the Terrigen properties were distributed throughout the world commercially. Coulson had called it untamable. You remembered the fear in his eyes, and you had squirmed uncomfortably in the same Inhuman History class a year back.

“The day that things changed, my Aunt Daisy was in solitary confinement in the team’s underground bunker. My mom was busy running tests on her blood after she’d been exposed to the chemical agent. I knew how to stay out of the way, but happened to be in the lab with her when everything started to shake.”

“Shake?” Kate quirked a brow.

You nodded “The Terrigen crystal gave Daisy control of vibrational forces, but none of us knew that at the time. We just knew that something was wrong. The shaking startled everyone and my mom, she grabbed every Terrigen crystal but one.”  

If not for Jemma, if not for her quick reflexes and wrapping her arms around Bobbi, sending them both from the lab before activating the safety seal, then neither of them would have made it. Indigo mist rushed from the shattered crystal and you remember the acrid floral taste that coated your lungs. It suffocated you.

“The last thing I remember about that day is my mother sobbing. She had both of her hands pressed against the glass surrounding the lab. She wailed like I wasn’t coming back, like she had failed me.”

Kate whimpered your name “Y/n,”

A tear drop hit the collar of your shirt and wicked nicely with the drying sweat. You used the base of hand to delicately wipe the rest away and came to the startling realization that Kate Bishop was one of the only people who had ever seen you cry.

“Everything went dark, then. I remember this hot, prickling feeling and it was hard to move. And then there was nothing. I know now that it was some… some type of cocoon of dirt and stone, but it crumbled away easily when the Terrigen had taken it’s effect.”

“That must have been scary.”

“Terrifying,” You let out a watery chuckle. “But in the end, I was in the best place possible for something like that to happen. I was surrounded by people who cared about me, who loved me, and who could teach me how to control the fire that’s always just below the surface.”

You pulled one knee to your chest and leaned your cheek against it, keeping a steady eye on Kate. She was already watching you. Fingers toying with the small brass zipper of her sweatshirt. She looked beautiful in the dimmed lights, and being this close, stopping to talk to her, had given you an even view of her freckles.

“Clint was on a mission in the Baltic Sea with Natasha, or at least, that’s how my mom tells it. Point is, he wasn’t there and even when he did return he took one look at me in solitary confinement and packed a duffel bag. There were arguments, I’m sure, but I wasn’t privy to them.”

The last time you had seen your biological father was when he knelt down at the sealed doors of the lab. His hand was massive compared to yours, it looked unnatural and alien when he pressed it against the glass. There was a finality in his stare. He’d called you Sparky, and you’d giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.

You could see the turmoil in her stormy gaze. There was the sense of betrayal there, and the quiet contemplation of someone who had just found out the reality of their hero.  Clint was her everything, her mentor, her teacher. He was the father figure she needed, and that was a clear line drawn in the sand.

Kate’s cold touch against your cheek, hot and tinted red from your earlier exertion, pulled you from your thoughts. Pity had replaced any semblance of anger she held onto. A whine moving involuntarily past your lips. You hadn’t realized how desperate you were for someone to touch you. For Kate to touch you.

Your relationship with the archer had never been any more than a succession of first and second place. A deadly dance that had culminated in open mouthed kisses and wandering fingers. This was one of the few times you’d had a serious conversation with her, a raw one that exposed wounds.

“I’ll do it,”

“Do what?”

You were hopelessly and pathetically lost. She smiled at that, an animalistic grin that often fell over her when she knew she was winning. You’d seen in countless times and couldn’t quite remember when it stopped annoying you and started turning you on.

“Pretend that we’re a couple,” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, dropping her hand and hopping off the edge of the ring. You missed her warmth, but it didn’t last for long. Kate was suddenly posted up between your legs, her arms draped over your shoulders. She was so close you could smell the mint on her breath. “To piss off Clint.”

Your hands naturally found her hips, not daring to squeeze them, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“First of all, you didn’t ask. You saw the way Clint reacted to us sleeping together and your instincts to make him angry kicked in. Secondly, I already told him we’re dating. I have way too much talent for him to drop me as a protégé just because I’m banging his estranged daughter.”

“Wow, you have such a way with words, Kate. Really, I’m just fawning over you here.”

She rolled her eyes, but you couldn’t stifle the phantom of a smile on your face. No one had ever offered to do something like this for you before. Especially not someone this close to the playing field. People had called you a freak for most of your life, an inhuman disaster that had a hot temper.

The anger you could control. It was the intensity in which you loved that got you into the most trouble.

Footfalls echoed against the rain-soaked streets of the city. A deep burn resonated within your chest, sweat forming against your collarbone and dripping down the small of your back. You’d never seen the benefit to tactical suits in the summer. They kept heat in like no other and by the time the night was over, your entire body ached.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’d lost one of the targets. It wasn’t something you’ve done in years, but your mind was admittedly somewhere else. You hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past week and it was showing in your sloppy work. Your mother had given you a worried look that only lasted half a second before you’d taken off.

The man you were pursuing was faster than you anticipated, but it wasn’t hard for you to catch up. You never understood why people ran into alleyways. They’d most likely lived in the city for their entire lives and knew that most of them ended in construction zones, or the end of a brownstone.

His chest heaved as he felt the wall behind him, turning and pressing his back against the wall. If he was desperate enough to run, you knew that he didn’t have a plan past this.

The tactical suit came with a few benefits that staved off the discomfort. While your mother preferred her staves, you had always leaned more towards a quarterstaff, a hot, reactive, type of metal that would glow a dangerous neon orange at just your touch.

It extended with a mechanical whir, your head tilting to the side. “Dude, really?”

“Look, I’ll never do it again!” His voice cracked like he was adolescent, but the beard that splattered the bottom half of his face betrayed the effects of his fear. “Just let me go, please.”

You closed the distance that lingered between you both, using the end of your staff to push up his chin. Your voice leaked with mock sympathy “Really? You promise?”

Half of his face was dripping with the blue dye from an exploding pack in a bundle of bills. His hands were coated entirely, the lapels of his shirt smeared from his lackluster attempt to wipe away the pigment. The man nodded vigorously.

“Oh, thank God, that’s a relief. I really thought I was going to have to take you in. The nearest station is eight blocks south and that would be a load of paperwork.”

“Yeah, yes, a lot of red tape” He shakily replied.

You slammed the quarterstaff into his gut. His breath left him, curling into himself as he fell to his knees. In the same moment, an arrow whizzed past you and lodged into his shoulder. His exhale of air turned into a scream of pain.

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. The fletching was a dark purple, almost black under the light of the moon. Telling the difference between Clint’s arrows and Kate’s hadn’t become an issue until now. Knowing that he was in the same city as you made you feel ill.

“I had that!”

The staff retracted and you attached it back in place on your belt. So, what if you liked to play around with the perpetrators every once and awhile? You did good work, but there were long and deep lulls of footwork in the hero business.

Clint stood at the mouth of the alleyway. His stance was shadowed with the concise way he carried himself. You couldn’t tell if he was alone or not, but didn’t get the signature winter scent from Kate’s presence.

He strode up to the target, pulling the arrow from his shoulder with a gentle tug. He put it back into it’s quiver as if it wasn’t slick with blood. Clint cuffed him, dragged him into a sitting position by the arm. You watched his languid movements with a resentment you didn’t know you harbored.

“Yeah, it looked like you had it, Sparky.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

His blue eyes flicked down to your hands, watching for any signs of a dull glow. He didn’t’ find any. You balled your fists and clenched your jaw. You didn’t owe him anything. Tonight, he seemed to be approaching you with contempt, now that his initial shock had worn off.

Clint clearly didn’t’ know how to handle you, or the giant emotional elephant in the room. It was nearing midnight and there was a storm brewing, you could smell it. The last thing you wanted to do was stand by the dumpsters and discuss your feelings, so you started to walk away.

“Kid, wait. I’m approaching this all wrong. I’m sure you had it handled.” His words didn’t stop you, but he jogged to catch up and fell in step. You glared at him, shoved your suddenly cold hands into the pockets of your suit. “We need to talk about Kate.”

This stopped you in your tracks. He wanted to talk about Kate. All these years separated, living completely different lives and he wanted to talk about your fake girlfriend. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s talk about Kate.”

“You can’t continue to see her.”

You stopped, standing in front of him with your arms crossed. He had a few inches on you, but you carried his stance. One of the only things other than his stubbornness that you had inherited from him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Kate is persistent, I’m sure you know that. It took months of her poking and prodding for me to even agree to take her under my wing. She’s a good archer, but she’s reckless, thinks too much with her heart and not her brain. She can’t afford to have distractions right now.”

A brick dropped in the pit of your stomach. The flames seemed to lick viciously at your pulse points. But, you swallowed it back and let out a sad laugh. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to, you did all the talking when you walked out on me at eight years old. Then you come waltzing back after years of building the family you wanted. The family that wasn’t filled with freaks.”

“Y/n, I don’t-“

“Because that’s all we ever were for you.” You growled at him. “the accident was just the excuse you needed to leave, and you’ve spent your time trying to make up for it by parenting every single stray that shows up on your doorstep expect for me.”

He was rendered silent, something that Clint rarely was. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a few times as if he was a fish out of water. You were breathing heavy, the words stinging your throat. You’d been harboring that for years, burying it deep inside. He’d tripped the metaphorical wire.

When he did find his voice, it was cracked and morose. “Okay. You’re right, you’re right.”

“I’m… right?”

He nodded sadly “I haven’t been fair to you, or your mother. I was a different person back then. I just don’t want Kate to get hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”

A step back from him seemed to clear your mind. For a moment, you wanted to crash into his safe embrace, to breathe in the scent of his aftershave. He was your father, your biological father, and despite it all, you were drawn to his kindness.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, mouth tasting of metal and bile. “You’re afraid of me, Hawkeye. You always have been.”

“That’s not true” He said it weakly.

“It is. You wouldn’t have run the moment I became different if you weren’t.” another step back and he didn’t’ dare to follow you. You vowed not to cry in front of him, or about him. Not now, and not ever, but you couldn’t stop the tears from streaking your cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about Kate Bishop. She can take care of herself. And so can I.”

[eiraeths]

do you guys want some of my cod 141 headcanons you’re getting them anyways

SOAP

-puts stuff in his mouth a lot to hold it when he runs out of hands (this includes when he’s making explosives, it stresses everyone out)

-gets cute aggression and bites people

-will also bite in a fight

-has bits and pieces of rubble from explosions that he thought looked pretty

-is feral, like he takes a hit to the face during a spar and grins with blood trickling into his mouth

-had a graffiti phase as a teen that never fully left and because of it he writes in all capital letters. this is great when they need something written down where no one can read it. (the 141 probably had a meeting where they went over how to read his handwriting)

-has dreams so realistic he wakes up confused wondering if it was a memory he forgot about even if it didn’t make sense

-military grade anger issues

-never fully grew out of his punk phase

-his childhood room was full of road signs and traffic cones

-is actually a hardass when it comes to training recruits (i think the proper term for privates in the sas is troopers but im calling them recruits cause that seems to be the term everyone uses)(everyone thought his bright attitude meant that he’s laid back and easygoing. no. he’s not. yall ever seen those videos of drill sergeants coming up with the most creative insults? thats him)

-randomly says “i am normal and can be trusted around military grade weapons”

-his journal from the og games is a must in the remaster sorry i don’t make the rules

GHOST

-can play guitar super fucking well, im talking full on fingerstyle ballads

-major staring problem, if he doesn’t want to talk to someone he’ll stare until they go away. sometimes stares at people for no reason. also stares when he wants something. he’s always watching.

-would be interested in getting into blacksmithing if he didn’t grow up poor and hates spending money on himself that isn’t out of necessity (seriously you need like 30k to start a forge)

-can and will obsess over damascus patterns in blades (i feel like his favorite pattern would be fish bone or those really complicated mosaic patterns. he gets soap into it too by showing him fireball patterns)

-never grew out of echolalia and because of this is amazing at mimicking noises (he mimicks smoke alarm battery low noises and phone chimes to troll people sometimes.)

-road rage, but its quiet fuming comments that make you grip the oh shit handle for dear life (“you better turn off your fucking highbeams or i can’t be blamed for the head on collision that’s about to happen”)(no one can tell if he’s serious or not)

-hates tin foil, hearing it or touching it makes him clench his jaw because it feels like he can feel it in his teeth

-secret sweet tooth, but it comes and goes. sometimes he’s disgusted by anything sweeter than white bread and other times he can fuck up an entire box of lil debbie cakes

-can hand sew efficiently and fast as fuck

-his favorite type of blanket is a heavy quilt

GAZ

-is aggressively hydrated and is one of those people who carry around those big 128 oz water bottles

-gets competitive over karaoke (it took him months to convince everyone to join and he only got the idea after finding out soap wanted to be in a band as a teen and that he spent days learning how to properly vocal fry)

-says WOO! when he’s super fucking excited (will throw his arms up as well if soap is around because the two of them are an echo chamber of emotion)(the WOO! might actually be canon theres a voice line in warzone)

-probably the most up to date on modern fashion trends (get this man a long cashmere coat he deserves it)

-he does own a bedazzled cap he found at a gas station though (it’s hideous)

-elaborate skin care routine (he’s conned everyone to have some sort of routine. especially ghost. he got so concerned when it hit him that ghost was always wearing the eyeblack)

PRICE

-listens to black label society (i won’t budge on this its not even a head canon to me anymore its fact it was revealed to me in a dream)

-plays solitaire (he’s a very high level and it took him less than a year to get there. no one knows where he found the time to play for that long)

-drives a manual and shames people who don’t know how to work a stick

-literature nerd (im talking all the classics and philosophy books this man can get his hands on)

-discovered tennessee moonshine and has thought about it ever since

-smacks people on the back of the head when they’re doing something stupid

-if anyone makes a negative comment on his facial hair he gives them the dirtiest side eye

GEN/MULTI

-gaz and soap carry those big contractor waterproof sharpies and leave gaz was here or soap was here everywhere they go (this stemmed from soap’s graffiti phase and gaz turned it into a competition. they once got into a competition on who could leave the most signs until price called them muppets and confiscated their sharpies)

-ghost put soap in air jail once, it was very effective

-gaz and soap go to the gym together and take photos in the mirrors after they’re done (somewhere there’s a photo of the time they got ghost to join and they even got him to flex an arm)

-ghost and soap are professional assholes to each other.

-none of the 141 are allowed play card games and gamble with each other because they’re all dirty charlatans

-price tried to stop smoking only once and carried around gum and peppermints. ghost stole the peppermints and soap wouldn’t stop asking for gum

-gaz and ghost are the only ones who really try to adhere to the lights out rule. price and soap can be seen drinking coffee throughout the day

-all of them can hold a grudge for life

-ghost clears his throat loudly when any of them smoke by him. or stares. depends on the say

-if any of the smokers see another outside smoking and decides to join them it turns into a drawn out conversation about the most mundane topics

-the 141 can have full conversations of pure sarcasm nons

[bnha-headcanonss]

Today got so, so much weirder

Bakugo one-shot. Super light. Hopefully sweet? Idk I don’t write this type of stuff. Apologies for any typos or confusing bits. It’s 4 am. I have not slept.

Slight swearing (expected)

Word count: 1875

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I woke up, sun shining into my eyes first thing. Basically blinded as soon as I wake up, on top of that, I’m going to be late, lovely start to the day!

I get up, get dressed in my uniform, and leave for school.

“Honey what about breakfast??” Mom calls out after me.

“I’m going to be late if I stay any longer! I’ll pick something up on the way, love you!” I yelled while speeding out the door.

I hear a faint “I love you too!” As I slam the door shut and make my way down the street.

“Stop walking so fast will you?!”

Bakugo and I haven’t always been close, he’s got an explosive personality, quite the temper on him. After both of us getting into UA and finding out we were in the same class, we grew closer. Originally it was banter back and forth and absolutely kicking each others ass in matches. Basically wiping the floor with each other.

He’s got this explosion quirk which goes hand-in-hand with his personality and I have a time shift quirk. I use it a lot to dodge others attacks and find way to make their attacks blow up in their own face, in his case, literally. And he hates it.

After our back and forth harsh banter that went on for months, it turned more playful. Eventually we just became each others closest friend. And I’d hate to admit it, it’s been kind of nice. Over time I developed a small crush for him. Nothing too major. But just underneath all the anger and aggression, and ego, he’s not half bad.

“My apologies your highness.” I did a stupid little curtsy and he attempted to push me down. I grabbed onto his arm so his attempt failed. Still funny though.

“What’re you doing out here so late? Usually you’re early.” I questioned. Being late or barely on time was my thing, not so much his.

“Somebody kept me up all night.” He gave me a dirty look.

“You were the one who didn’t want to go to sleep until you got a win. You just got to get better at the game.”

“I’ll blow your fucking face up, shut your mouth.” I burst out laughing. Bakugo sucks big time at Mortal Kombat. He wasn’t much for video games in general but he saw me watching an execution clip online and got interested, typical.

We reach the school and go on with our day. We don’t talk much in class, we sat and did our work. Lunch came and we ate together.

“Hey try this.” He proceeds to dump some green sauce on my food.

“What is it?” I questioned. Bakugo loves his spicy food, pretty on brand but I can’t stand it. I do not have the tastebuds strong enough for that like he does.

“It’s nothing too bad, it’s really good, I made it myself. Try it.” He demanded.

“If I burn myself, it’s on you.”

“Nah you’ll be fine. Go on.” He sits back. I already know how this is going to go, but he made it himself and I can’t say no to that.

As expected, it burned.

“Holy shit Bakugo, this burns so bad.” I’m up and looking for anything to drink but I finished my water a while ago and don’t have anything else. Meanwhile Bakugo is practically dying of laughter in his seat. I swear he’s got tears of joy forming and I’ve got tears related to death streaming down my face. Everything feels like it’s on fire.

“Here here, you’re causing a scene.” He hands me his water bottle and I start chugging.

“I don’t care.. if I cause anything.. that shit BURNS!” I manage between chugs of water. He breaks out into even more laughter.

He was right though, I am causing a scene. I sit back down and try to gain my composure.

“What is that stuff?”

He pulls out the unlabeled bottle and holds it up like an advertisement.

“Lord Explosion Murder hot sauce, available near you.” He’s got a giant grin on his face. You don’t see him smile much, even if it is artificial, it ties my stomach in a knot, that could also be the hot sauce.

“Oh my god you’re such a nerd.” I say with a stupid smile on my face, compensated by an eye roll.

“You find it funny so clearly you love this nerd. Wait- nevermind that sounded weird.”

“Yeah right, cool it hot shot.” I laugh and brush it off, I wouldn’t say love, but I think I definitely like that nerd? I have no idea.

He looked oddly vacant when I brushed it off though. There was no emotion, just stone faced. Completely changed the tone. Luckily the bell rang, we cleaned up and continued the rest of our school day.

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“Roof?” I approach his desk as the final bell for the day rings.

“Yeah let’s go.” He packs away his things and we make our way to the roof.

We’ve been coming up here a couple times a week since becoming friends, just to talk, watch the sun go down, watch a movie or something. It’s like a moment of peace for me. I think this is originally where I started developing feelings for him. It’s just us, there’s no playing an act or anything. We learned to be ourselves and I really like who he actually is.

“What’s it gonna be today?” He questions, pulling out his laptop and turning on his Apple TV application.

“Hmm. What’s on the list?”

We made a list of all the movies we think about but can’t watch at the moment.

“So far there’s 27 dresses, uh 13 going on 30, 10 things I hate about you, god what is up with all the romcoms? All girly shit.”

“You realize who you’re talking to dimwit? 10 things I hate about you.”

“Yeah yeah.” He rolls his eyes, turns on the movie and positions the laptop in front of us both. It’s a nice day. Not cold, no breeze, just nice, warm air. Quiet.

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I must’ve been more tired than I thought because I felt my eyes getting heavier and I’ve had to catch myself from falling forward once or twice. The movies only about half way done.

“Fucking loser.” He says.

“What?”

“You’re falling asleep.” Pointing out the obvious.

“No I’m not, I’m watching the movie.” Uh-huh..

“Right.” He pulls me towards him until my head hits his shoulder. This is different, Bakugo grew some balls or something. I don’t remember much else from there though.

I must’ve been really exhausted.

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I open my eyes to the night sky and Baby Driver playing on the laptop. I barely made it through 10 things I hate about you I guess. I’m still laying on his shoulder but I feel pressure on my head, it feels like his head. And I feel a hand on my waist. Is he asleep too?

“Hm.” I test.

“Finally, fucking nerd. You fell asleep.” He’s got that softer, sleepy voice. Maybe he was falling asleep. He lifts his head and moves his hand from my waist.

“Sorry, I guess today was not my day.” I laugh it off.

“Movie was good. Liked it. I put this on right after though and it’s almost over.”

“Baby Driver?”

“Yeah.” One of the first movies we watched up here. Only because he didn’t give me much of a choice, at all. It was good though, I liked it a lot more than I thought I would, I thought it was just a car movie at first.

“Let’s finish it then.” I offer.

“That was the plan. At least until you woke up.”

“Yeah yeah. Shut up and watch.”

“You’re one to talk.”

As the movie continued I could feel his arm snake around my waist again, right back to where it was before. We haven’t moved otherwise. I’m still really close to him, I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and it’s a lot. I can’t necessarily complain though. Realistically, who would?

The movie finished and we pack up to go home. It started getting colder as the time passed and neither of us had a jacket. The school issued skirt for my uniform was killing me at this point.

I let him rant on about the movie I picked the whole way home. It sounds like he liked it. He really liked the main character because she wasn’t like all the other main characters who are all boy crazy.

“She kind of reminds me of you.” He says. I take that as an absolute win. I love Kat so much. She’s the main reason I watched the movie in the first place.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Despite the fact that I’ve never fallen asleep on him like that before, nothing was weird. Nothing felt weird. Today was a weird day, don’t get me wrong but that was the most normal feeling part, and it was the most not-normal. I’m confusing myself.

We reach my apartment complex which is a couple streets away from his house and we make our way up the stairs.

“Again tomorrow?” He suggests. Or demands? No clue at this point.

“Tomorrow? Theres no school tomorrow?”

“You come over to my place. We’ll rewatch your movie so you can finish it this time and we can pick another one from the stupid list. Yeah?”

Me go over to his place? Today got so much weirder in just 30 seconds.

“You know, that sounds nice. See you around 1?”

“Yup. Don’t be Late.”

“I’ll try not to,” I start to walk towards my door.

“I’ll kill you if you are!” He’s still just standing there, you can practically hear his smile. You know how you sound different when your lips are upturned, yeah, that.

“You won’t do shit.” I laugh and pull out my keys.

I feel a tug on my arm and I’m met face to face with Bakugo. He grabs my face with his hands and suddenly his lips meet mine.

His hands lay either side of my jaw, thumbs on my cheek, holding my head up towards him. His lips are soft, he’s gentle. I practically melt into the kiss.

He pulls away, we lock eyes for just a couple seconds before he turns around to leave. His face was red. I feel red. I feel hot, and confused. My stomach did flips.

He did shit- not the shit I was referring to, but holy shit, he did shit. What.

“1 pm, don’t, be late,” he emphasized the don’t.

“I won’t.” I say, in utter disbelief. I see a small smile creep up on his lips before he’s out of sight.

What the fuck just happened?

Today got so, so much weirder.

[rodricksfilipinagf]

Karma's A Bitch Part 1 (Jamie Tartt x Reader, Enemies to Lovers)

Summary: Idealistic, hopeless romantic Y/N is the new marketing intern at AFC Richmond who instantly tops star player and major asshole Jamie Tartt's shit list for daring to stand up to him.

         Today’s my first day as a marketing intern at AFC Richmond! I really like Keeley already- she’s so nice. She was immediately welcoming to me and even listened to my rant about the newest season of Bridgerton. I think working here is going to be exciting because Jamie Tartt trains here and I’ve had sex fantasies about him ever since I saw him modeling in a champagne ad. I was ecstatic to be placed here because then that meant we can meet and interact and possibly fall in love and reenact my sex dreams.

         I can see the players coming into the building from the field. Oh my God, that means Jamie’s coming! What if he falls in love with me on sight? That wouldn’t happen probably but it’d be so romantic.

         Jamie is wearing his gray practice jersey and grey warm up jacket. He is making the drab colors work for him. 

         When he’s just about to pass me, I say, “Hey, Jamie, I’m Y/N and I just want to say-“

         He brushes right past me, shoving his water bottle into my hands. “Thanks,” he dismisses, not even turning around.

         Well. That dream’s dead now. My cheeks flush with anger and I guess my body reacts before my mind. I don’t think about how this will affect my internship or dealing with him in the future. I just want to make him pay. 

         I catch up to him, seizing his arm and blocking his path.

         His eyes narrow in annoyance. “What do you want?”

         I unscrew the bottle cap. “I used to admire you a lot, but…” I stand on my tiptoes and pour all the water from the bottle onto Jamie’s face. “Not anymore, dickhead.”

         He blinks, looking furious. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you know who I am?”

         “Yes,” I say. “A terrible person who treats people like crap. Everything else doesn’t matter to me. Not how famous you are or how rich you are or how many goals you score and certainly not how hot you are!” I regret saying that last part. 

         “You think I’m hot?” he asks. Then he laughs. “What, are you mad that I’m not falling all over myself for you?”

         “You wish,” I say. “I just think you shouldn’t be rude to interns- or anyone- because you’re some big star.”

         “You’re interning here?” Jamie’s nose wrinkles as if he smells something rancid. Then he draws up. “Then let me tell you how it works around here. You learn respect, you do what I say, and if I want your fucking opinion, I’ll ask.”

         “I’m actually in the marketing department, not your personal assistant. And I’ll respect you when you learn not to be a dick,” I retort. 

         “Whatever. Just stay out of my way.” He knocks my shoulder with his before storming off.

         Today I’m handing out schedules to the players about marketing stuff. I barely make eye contact when I get to Jamie, who is chewing gum. I just shove it at him. “This is yours.”

         “Perfect,” Jamie says. “I’ve been looking for a place to put my gum.”

         “How about up your ass?” I say nastily.

         Scorn enters Jamie’s eyes. “I see you still haven’t learned respect, intern.” He takes his wet gum out of his mouth and sticks it into my hand. “Toss this in the trash for me.”

`        What an entitled prick. “In the trash? Sure.” I press his chewed gum into his forehead. By now the whole team is watching. “Is here good?” I taunt. 

         A lot of the other players start laughing. I bet Jamie’s been an ass to all of them at least once, and they love seeing him brought down a peg.

         He looks furious, using the paper his schedule is on to scrape gum off his face. And then he gets right up in mine. “How many times do I have to fucking tell you to stay in your place?” he growls.

         “Maybe this all wouldn’t be happening if you were a nice person. Just a thought. Oh, and you have an interview at 3 tomorrow.” I start to walk away, but Jamie grabs the back of my shirt. 

         “I could make your life really miserable around here if I wanted to,” Jamie says. 

         “Sure, gum-face. Sure,” I say. I leave him seething behind me. 

         This morning I get an email that I have to be in the interview room 25 minutes earlier to “prep Jamie on talking points.”

When I pull open the door of the interview room, I’m showered from head to toe with whipped cream from a bucket hanging over the door. When I wipe my eyes, I see Jamie with a big bucket in his hand.

“You did this,” I spew.

He shrugs. “I thought you needed a makeover,” he says, emptying the bucket’s contents over my head. Which turn out to be feathers. Many, multicolored feathers that because of the whipped cream, stick everywhere. My hair, my face, and all over my body. 

“Jamie!” I shriek furiously while he just looks smug. “Are you out of your mind?”

“What?” He feigns innocence. “I thought Americans liked this.”

“Okay, Jamie, what is your problem with me?” I demand. “Is it because I’m the only person ever to stand up to you?”

“You think you can talk to me and treat me however you want. You tried to embarrass me in front of my teammates today. You need to get it through your thick skull that you’re just some lowly American intern, and I’m the star player. You don’t tell me what to do.”

“You are so arrogant,” I say. “It’s no wonder your teammates don’t like you.”

“Think I give a shit?” Jamie scoffs. “They all know I’m the best.” He smirks. “And so will that reporter coming.”

My eyes widen. “Oh yeah, the reporter’s coming. Jamie, I guarantee you’ll blow them away.”

He looks confused at this, and I use this moment to tackle him to the floor. “What the fuck?” he demands angrily. Whipped cream is seeping into his jeans and shirt, and some of my feathers are transferring onto his clothes. 

“Well, Jamie, karma’s a bitch, and she’s with you right now,” I say.

He glares at me. “You stupid twat. You ruined my outfit for my interview!”

“You ruined mine first!” I shoot back. “Like you say, you’re so much more important than me. Maybe you’ll make this look the new trend.”

“Piss off,” Jamie says, his eyes blazing. 

“You ensured that I would get embarrassed on the Tube today. Thought I’d return the favor,” I spit.

“This is a national magazine,” Jamie says through clenched teeth. “It’s not the same and you know it. I’ll get you back for this.”

I scowl. “As if this prank wasn’t entirely your fault. But fine. You want a war? You’ve got one.”

A/N: Hi guys!!! I wrote this after getting super pissed off (in a good way) after reading a snippet of another Jamie Tartt fanfic on here, so I used like 3 lines from there to inspire this story and put my own unique spin on it. Also yes I had Y/N quote that song Jojo Siwa made famous and Brit Smith ~bodied~. She's such a girlboss, and I love seeing her put Jamie in his place. I also love writing slow burns!!

[cerise-on-top]

Requesting gn reader wanting to go to a wreck room Valeria, Ghost, Gaz, and Laswell 🙏

I hope your little break was good! Hope you're doing okay, have a wonderful day and take as much time as you need! Love your writing btw ✨️

Hey there! My break was well needed, I got really sick during it as well, unfortunately! But oh well! I wrote the request today already since it's the only one in my inbox right now! Hope what I wrote is alright, I've never heard of wreck rooms before, we don't have those where I live!

Going to a Wreck Room with Gaz, Ghost, Valeria and Laswell

Gaz: He has definitely heard of those, but has never had enough pent up anger to actually go to one, it never particularly interested him. He breaks enough stuff as it is during work, accidentally or not, so he’s seen his fair share of broken wood, broken TVs, broken monitors. But when you ask him to go to one with you he won’t say no, thinking the idea to be very interesting for a date. If this is something you wanna do, then sure, but he’d have to get used to the idea of willingly breaking something that isn’t just a bottle. Gaz likes everything in order, and very much not broken when he can. His weapon of choice would be a crowbar, they don’t seem like much but they’re deadly enough to do some real damage. He’s used them before, he knows how to handle one well. However, his second choice would be a bowling pin since the idea of bashing in a printer with one seems hilarious to him. Once inside, he’ll go for the bottles first. While he won’t outright use his crowbar, opting for simply throwing them onto the ground first, he’d love to play baseball with you using some of them if you chose a baseball bat. Lets out a whistle if you actually manage to hit the bottle and break it. Loves just throwing stuff at you, but will ask you for your baseball bat at some point since he, too, wants to use a cassette as a ball. He always likes to think himself as an efficient man, but he has far too much fun breaking everything to be such. Loves taking turns with you while beating up the poor printer. He pries it open, you beat the everloving shit out of it. His one goal inside is to do a bottle flip and then hit said bottle, he just loves all the shards left behind. While a rage room may not do too much for him in regards to letting out anger, he does have a lot of fun and will ask you to come here again when you’re particularly mad about something.

Ghost: Oh, I can assure you, he’s been to wreck rooms before. His past was anything but pleasant, he’s had to deal with violent thoughts and sought an outlet for such. He’s since forgotten those exist as he’s calmed down quite a lot. So when you bring up the idea of going to a rage room, he’ll chuckle, but will comply. The memories that come back aren’t particularly happy, but as long as you get an outlet, that’s alright. He’d go for a baseball bat since they’re easy to handle but still very destructive. Considering Ghost is a very strong guy, he could break just about anything with just a few hits. He’ll watch you at first, maybe stand behind you as you beat a few picture frames, but gets to work soon enough himself. He wouldn’t even need to use his bat to dismantle a printer, but he uses it anyway. His strikes seem rather calculated. It isn’t as much fun to him as it is to Gaz, but he enjoys it anyway, especially if you seem to be having a lot of fun. If you struggle with breaking something rather big then he’ll push you aside and show you how it’s done by a professional. He picks up whatever large item it is, throws it onto the ground with a lot of strength, and then beats it up. Yes, he does simply want to show off, that’s all there is to it. He’s a big and strong guy, he could and would kill any printer for you. Even if he does also really like breaking the bottles. The shards on the ground are somewhat satisfying to look at. A bit unnerving since broken shards usually mean all kinds of danger, but still satisfying in a situation like this. As mentioned before, he’s calm throughout it all, and if you didn’t know any better, then you’d say his trained killer instincts are shining through. He isn’t particularly loud either, it’s somewhat impressive, and kind of scary. It’s a small glimpse into how effective he is as a soldier. Comment on it, and he’ll tell you that you have nothing to worry about. For the most part you don’t, but it’s quite obvious that he’s a dangerous man. However, he’s also a gentleman, so he’ll be the one to pay for the experience. He seems unchanged for the most part afterwards, but the slight grin on his face doesn’t exactly escape you.

Valeria: She’s always wanted to go to one ever since she learned of their existence, but never had the time to do so. Valeria is a temperamental woman, she has lots and lots of pent up anger she needs an outlet for. She shows it when she’s annoyed, but that’s not even half of what she’s feeling on a normal day. However, she does need to show that she’s in charge, otherwise all those people around her wouldn’t respect her. Her face would light up a bit as you make the suggestion, reminding her of her wish to see one someday. As soon as she has time, you can be certain you’ll be going to a rage room together. Her weapon of choice would likely be a sledge hammer. They’re heavy, they’re not that easy to use, but she needs you to know that she’s a strong and capable woman who can wield such a thing with ease. The bottles, cassettes, plates are just the warm up, her eyes are on the price: A car in the middle of the room. It wouldn’t have been her first time thrashing one in its entirety, but usually she’s more subtle about it, if she’s doing it herself. She’ll leave all the smaller stuff to you, but you can join her in breaking the car once you’re done with throwing mice at TV screens. She’s very violent about it, there’s no thought on how she’s going to break everything, she just does it. Her sledge hammer will hit the car in quick succession with as much force as she can muster. Her eyes show just the smallest glimpse of insanity that she keeps under wrap otherwise. No one would ever see her like this, so this is a sign of trust for her. By the time she’s done the car will be unrecognizable, just scraps lying about everywhere in the room. Panting a bit, with her arms sore from the weight, she’d turn to you and give you a dangerous grin. Don’t take it the wrong way, she’s just satisfied, that’s all. Valeria may not be the tallest woman out there, but there’s a lot of strength behind her blows, so don’t underestimate her. Afterwards she’ll pay as well and already make plans for the next time you’ll be coming here. It won’t become a common occurrence, but you will find yourself here again every once in a while. As a reward for bringing up the idea, Valeria will pay for dinner as well.

Laswell: She’ll turn down the idea at first, simply not interested. Breaking things just because you’re angry is said to be as effective as drinking alcohol when you’re sad. Laswell prides herself in barely having broken anything throughout her life, and she’d like to keep it that way. If you really wanna go to a wreck room, then why not take your friends there with you? You’ll have to be really annoying about it for a prolonged amount of time before she finally humors you with your little idea. But she’s still not very enthusiastic about it. Maybe, just maybe, if you’re lucky the day you’ll be going there will have been a rough day for Laswell and she’ll, ironically enough, break some more stuff while she’s there due to something having gone wrong. Laswell would likely go for something simple, either a bat or a golf club. While she would, at first, opt for watching you as well, eventually she will hit some glass bottles with her weapon of choice. Then she’ll do nothing for a while again, and afterwards she’ll hit something again. This goes on and on until she’s finally had enough of all the waiting and smashes the nearest mannequin she can find. You seem to be having fun, and an hour can be long if you’re just waiting for it to be over. Besides, the money would have been wasted if she didn’t smash anything. It’s not as fun to her as it is to Valeria or Gaz, but she’ll do it anyway. It’s a nice outlet if you really wanna be violent for once, but it’s not particularly for her. However, if you ask her to help you with breaking some of the wind chimes, then she’ll help you out a bit. She doesn’t do flurries of blows, she takes a glance at the object, figures out where its weak points are as quickly as possible, and strikes there. The quicker the object falls apart, the more accomplished she can feel. Laswell isn’t the youngest anymore, but her mind is still as sharp as ever. Once you’re done, she’ll thank you and politely tell you that this was nice, but she won’t bring up the idea of going there again on her own. While it may be easier to convince her to go from here on out, she won’t always immediately say yes. She still isn’t the biggest fan of breaking stuff just because you’re mad or want to.

[slashers-sister]

(This is something that happened, so I'm making a story, just imagine phones exist back then for the sake of this story)

Imagine you are on your phone on Pinterest, you found it fun, why?

Organizing, making cute and or deranged unsettling (Possibly ones about cannibalism people think are "AeStHeTiC!1! 😍🤪", you always did question which ones where and weren't actual cannibals..) moodboards.

Look, ya are quite lonely, and your brothers aren't always fun.

Actually you're in the barn hiding from your chores at the moment. You really didn't want to clean up all those knives :(

You like to keep random things, your room is FULL of stuff you've found around the farm. You got a lot of your personality from the twins, and Bubba. You spent most of your time with them.

..or stuff you've taken but that's besides the point!

You had bottles from 1947, your oldest glass bottle is from 1937! You also have old pins, which you and your brother Chop-Top do have a rivalry over who has the coolest.. Nubbins is the mediator, saying usually something along the lines of "Ya both tied, they are both equally cool." In reality he just can't choose who he likes more sometimes

You were on your phone, you heard Drayton calling. Oh no. You put it on a hay bale and immediately jump down from the hayloft. It's.. big but you fuck around and find out too often and have quite a high pain and heat tolerance.

"(Insert your full legal name), Get yer ass out here!"

To say your stomach filled with fear was definitely.. an understatement.

What did you do to piss off Drayton now? No idea but you went to go see what he needed. Hoping you weren't in for a beating on the head or back, why? He didn't whip you, he smacked your back so hard with a broom you heard a CRUNCH. Yes, you were fine. Well mostly, definitely traumatized a wee bit.

——————————————————————————

Meanwhile, guess who also had chores in the barn! The twins!

Guess who didn't lock, sign out, and brick their phone? You!!

Immediately they are nosey. What's their precious little-

..They didn't find porn, or anything like that.

Nah they just found the Spotify account, the notepad, which you definitely had a few issues. Specifically anger issues, you had some notepads you had to take 5 minutes to scroll through bottom too.

Your Pinterest was full of weird stuff. Odd animal pictures that look weirdly funny and distorted? Funny lil cannibalism boards, memes, a mountain of memes because you are either chronically yeehaw or chronically online, take that as you will.

They found a few moodboards about them, about our(? Your? Their? Ya get the point) Brother Drayton. Honestly it matched his personality.

Bubba's was cute and full of taxidermied roadkill, you had made both of theirs earlier, and rearranged it perfectly.

Then they found theirs.

When Nubbins saw it, you even had a picture of his knife and camera almost exactly, how cool!

You had Chop-Top's favorite band, maybe you do listen!

Then Chop-Top started hysterically laughing.

"W-w-what? What's s-so funny?"

Chop-Top gladly pointed it out.

Nubbins couldn't tell if he should laugh, cry, be offended, or plot your murder.

Meanwhile Chop-Top is dying (almost literally) of laughter. "That is the funniest shit I've ever seen her do, that takes the meat!" (You guys often don't say "take the cake", but "take the meat" as a joke.)

Fun fact, nobody actually went to school.. you guys were all homeschooled by big bro dray.

Chop-Top calmed his twin down after a while, still looking through the board, you had found many things you thought they would, it did like. You got almost everything right.

They are definitely plotting how they both can get you back tho.

——————————————————————————

No, Drayton wasn't too pissed off. You just forgot to tell him where you were, and scared the ever-loving shit out of this poor man.

Once you got back to the barn, you climbed to the hayloft.. and noticed your phone was moved. You immediately went through it, but surprisingly nothing was out of the ordinary.. except your notepad had a new note.

"you'll end up worse<3"

Cheeky little bi-

You silently live in fear waiting for what prank they'll do next :(

[cod-dump]

Alright, so I saw that someone wanted more food insecurity with Ghost, but idk if this counts as food insecurity—it's whatever. It includes food, so it counts. ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌

New Prompt: Ghost has trouble telling when he's hungry until he's literally starving and has really bad time blindness while on leave (like me).

On top of his shit childhood, Simon's teenage years brought on a whole lot of issues with appetite. Despite being a growing boy, Simon has a very unique appetite due to his previous eating habits mentioned in the other ask. He kinda fucked up his hunger levels. He would eat whatever whenever, but he was never actually hungry or at least—he couldn't really tell. This caused problems when he would unknowingly go the whole day without eating something because he couldn't find any scraps to snack on, and couldn't tell that he had been starving until his stomach loudly expressed its anger at him the next morning.

He never really acknowledged it as a serious problem. The military already gave him a set schedule and timeframe on when to eat, so it was never an issue of missing meals and accidentally starving himself.

Until he went on leave for 3 months with Johnny.

There was no longer a set schedule on when to eat since Ghost was sleeping in most of the time like the grumpy black cat that he is. So, sometimes, when Johnny's out in the morning doing whatever and Ghost wakes up, he doesn't eat—like at all. He turns on the TV and absentmindedly watches some random documentary about penguins while mindlessly cleaning around the house and—oh shit, Johnny's home. What time is it?

Why is Johnny already back home? He's supposed to be back by 7pm and it's only—Ghost briefly checked the time on his phone—7:20pm... How the hell...

That was when Ghost suddenly realized that his stomach had literally screaming at him for probably hours. He forgot to eat. He hadn't eaten since he woke up 8 hours ago. He woke up at 11, and it's already night time!

Johnny had a very disappointed expression when he found out that Ghost had done things around the house like clean up and fold clothes and shower, but didn't eat a single thing. Johnny expected Ghost to find leftovers in the fridge like he would back on base, but apparently his LT forgot to look at a clock in between his activities. He was disappointed, but he also had a pretty bad case of time blindness when he was super involved in something, so he couldn't really blame the man. They both learned something new and that info was tucked away for later.

Instead, the two went to the kitchen and Johnny made three of his signature, god-tier-level sandwiches; two for Simon, one for Johnny. It was something quick to make, and they always tasted good. It hit just the perfect spot for someone who hasn't eaten in 8 hours in favor of being productive in an empty household.

From that point forward, Johnny added to his ever-growing list of things about his Ghost. Make sure to remind Simon to eat every 3-4 hours or he will forget (specifically on leave). Simon learned to look forward to Johnny's messages telling him to grab something to munch on everyday.

(i wonder what those text reminders would look like ngl, also someone make up the type of sandwiches that Soap makes bc that man knows how to make a mean sandwich)

— 🍄🍂

Ghost is me fr. Time blindness and all

___

Message from Johnny: Hey babe! Go eat the lunch I made for you and some water! Be home later ❤️

Message from Johnny: I need you to go stuff your face with some food and send me a picture of your best chipmunk impression! That’s an order, soldier!

Message from Johnny: If that can of crisps that I bought you isn’t empty by the time I get home there will be no Sherlock marathon or cuddles!! I MEAN IT

Message from Johnny: I counted the water bottles before I left this morning. I will know if you didn’t drink one of them.

Message from Johnny: Simon my love, it’s been two hours since I left this morning. There’s a sandwich waiting for you in the fridge with a can of soda. Make sure to eat it ❤️❤️

Message from Johnny: if you didn’t eat the stew i made for you i will cry and there will be no kisses or cuddles!! 🥺🥺

Message from Johnny: *picture of a hotdog* I showed you my dog so be polite and show me yours

[blerb-f1]

I noticed that y’all have no idea what Germans grew up listening to. Late 80’s/very early 90’s stuff is THE SHIT and all the drivers definitely know them by heart as do i. So here’s a songfic to a sappy German lovesong(?) that we know by heart.  Also, i may have been a bit drunk and a bit nostalgic so yes

This one is called “dammit, I love you” and one of my all time favorites https://youtu.be/x6q0ciiqyG0.

Ex! Sebastian Vettel x Reader (songfic!!)

I wander through the streets until after midnight

Loved doing that back then as well

Don’t need you for that

Sebastian stared at the cold leaves falling, hands shoved into his pockets. 2013,  the year of evil things. Good Guy Seb was gone, especially after Multi 21. Same with his homelife, he grew bitter and almost jaded. The infighting with Mark traveling home to you, his Girlfriend. To be exact, his ex-girlfriend. You didn’t want to hear him like this anymore. You struggled through so much together, so why didn’t he want to listen? That’s what you had told him, but he knew better. He had to prove himself, to be the man. With or without you. Showing that he wasn’t just lucky, winning thanks to the car but instead due to his own prowess.

I’m sitting at the bar, drinking another beer

Back then, together we’d be here

It doesn’t affect me, doesn't affect me at all.

He pulled the big, wooden doors of his usual bar open, the Barkeeper mildly nodding  towards him with a pained expression. He knew everything about the situation, witness to one to many fights and breaking up equally many of them. He celebrated Sebs first World Title with you here, sponsoring Champagne to every guest that stumbled in. How quickly Time had passed since then. Sliding into his usual seat, the barkeeper quietly placed a bottle of beer in front of him which Sebastian hurried to take a sip from. 

This season was over, and It had taken enough from him. Ferrari was going to be a new start- Start of a new journey without you. He could do this without you. He should. He had to.��

Opposite of me sits a guy like a bear,

I imagine if he was your new man

It doesn’t affect me at all

Seb stared at the tall, muscular man sitting there. He looked a lot like Jenson Button, a guy you were often rumored to be cheating with. Not that you’d do that. You were loyal, if so to a fault.

Suddenly it hits me and i approach him

I tell him off:” Leave my Woman alone”

He just asks:” Are you mad?”

And all i can think of is You

Staring into Jenson’s Face just flared his deep rooted Anger. Those fake cheating news had started it all, making his trust towards you weaker. Making him question you while you were there for him through thick and thin. So what if you actually were with Jenson now? Sipping Cocktails somewhere in Britain? You, wrapped around his arms? 

'No, that needed to stopped.' 

He pushed the chair back and stomped towards Jenson, Face filled with Anger. “Leave my Woman alone!”, he almost screamed while slamming his fist on the table. Jenson jumped upwards in shock, clearly surprised. “Are you Mad?” he pushed Seb away from him. The barkeeper was quick to arrive, grabbing Seb by the sleeves and pushing him out. Muttering something about enough Alcohol which Seb didn’t hear. All he could think of was you. Your beautiful, loving eyes staring back at his upon waking up. The texture of your skin while wrapped around him.

Dammit, I love you

I don’t love you

Dammit, I need you

I don’t need you

Dammit, I want you

Dammit, I don't want you

I don’t want to lose you

Slowly I’m starting to remember it all

I just wanted to be a bit more free

Am I now or am I not?

You’d left before the season was over, after your big fight in Hungary. Dyed his Hair blonde because you loved his natural hair so much. Ready to actually become the villain you called him. 

I didn’t fit into your happy world

But it and you, are what i’m missing the most

I simply can’t believe it 

He was free to do whatever he so desired , but at what cost? He dominated the season but without your love at home, without you tousling his locks so gently, nothing was fine anymore. You were angry at his rude demeanor, his blatant disregard of others. You didn’t understand, with Michael being like that he felt like he had to prove himself anew. To prove himself the new German hope as some called him. 

Opposite of me Is a phone

It’s laughing at me mockingly

It won’t, it won’t ring

His iPhone laid there, Wallpaper back to the default one instead of your wide smile, sometimes turning on to inform him of some trivial news yet none of them related to you. Were you actually happy without him, living your best life?

 He did something he hadn't done since meeting you: smoking. You hated the smell with a fiery passion. Sebastian grabbed a cigarette from the Box (Marlboro Reds of course) and placed it between his lips while procuring a lighter from god knows where. Lighting it and taking a deep breath. The hot smoke filled his body with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Seven beers, smoked too much

This is what a man needs

But nobody, nobody to stay “Stop it”

And again, all I can think of is You

He dropped the lit cigarette into the empty beer bottle, face crashing flatly on the table. Nicotine and Alcohol running through his veins, making his body fuzzy. You’d have said Stop. You didn’t like seeing him in this state.

You’d have said Stop like you always did. The voice of reason in his miserable, little life. Stop to Betrayal. Stop to Fighting. Stop to Self-Doubt and Self-hatred. 

Dammit, I love you

I don’t love you

Dammit, I need you

I don’t need you

Dammit, I want you

Dammit, I don’t want you

I don’t want to lose you

He didn’t want to lose you but he already did. You were gone.

[silassinclair]

Can you do Dave Mustaine angst?

Maybe with his girlfriend threatening to leave him bc of his alcohol addiction?

If not it’s totally fine! :)

I have taken it upon myself to be the Dave Mustaine writer that the world needs. Thanks for requesting, and I hope this is to your liking <3

Please Don’t Leave Me

Upon entering your and Dave's shared apartment after the late shift the scent of alcohol hit your nostrils like a truck. It's been going on like this for a while. Having childhood trauma along with getting kicked from the band he put his heart and soul into only made him worse. And you understood, so you gave him space.

Over five months of space to be exact. But he didn't let up at all. His lain body was sunken into the couch with a bottle of jack loosely hung from his index and middle finger. The TV was playing MTV and what a coincidence, it was Metallica playing Four Horsemen. A song he wrote and worked his ass off on.

"You shouldn't be watching this. They're all dickheads." You walk up to the TV and twist the knob on the console, changing the channel to some random cooking channel.

A low growl and the thud of another empty bottle sounded. "I was fucking watching that." Dave said and got off the couch to stumble up. He walked to the TV but you held him by his shoulders in place.

"Stop it Dave. You're only destroying yourself. Can't you see what you're doing to yourself? What you're doing to us?" Your voice cracks in desperation. These have been the worst five months for you and your high school sweetheart. Everything felt like it was crashing down all at once.

"Oh stop being such a fucking sap!" He shot loudly and slapped your hands off him making you hold your stinging hands to yourself. "It's not my fucking fault! It's all because of my shitty old man and bat shit crazy Mother! They made me this way and those four, CUNTS-" He punched the wall making you yelp and reel back in fear.

"THOSE CUNTS ONLY FUELED MY FUCKING ANGER!"

By now his face was beating red. His snarl was animalistic and violent, everything about him was just pure drunken rage.

"D-Dave..." You whimpered in fear, voice cracking. Tears began to form in your e/c eyes. Dave has never hit you before, never lain a hand on you.

The man only huffed and puffed. His breathing ragged and shoulders rising up and down with every intake and exhale of air. His white knuckled fists were at his sides and his eyes pierced through you like knives.

This wasn't the love of your life anymore. This was someone else entirely. Someone Dave kept locked up in chains in the dark depths of his mind. But now it was free and it was ruining his life.

Ruining your life too.

“Dave. I don’t think this is working. With you like this.” You say as you turn your back on him to walk to your shared bedroom. Opening the closet you grab a duffel bag and stuff some clothes inside along with toiletries.

“Heyy…” Dave’s low voice said as he stumbled into the bedroom, he held onto the door frame for support. “What’re you doin there? And don’t you fuckin walk away from me.”

Ignoring him you continue stuffing your bag with your belongings. Slipping in some cassettes, photos, makeup, and other valuables.

“Hey!”

Dave grabbed your shoulder from behind and spun you around. This time he looked to be standing straighter. His tight expression loosened when he saw your own expression though. Tears were falling down your face and your mouth was in a wobbling frown that threatened to break into a sob.

“Y/n.. hey why you cryin’?” Dave slurred and reached to cup your cheek, but you flinched and backed away.

“H-Hey. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He said, his own eyes becoming glassy.

You turn back around and zip up the duffel bag and put the strap over your shoulder. Hurriedly you leave the room and grab your jacket and keys off the hook. Dave chases after you but doesn’t touch you.

“Talk to me baby. What’s wrong?”

With a final snap you whip around and poke a firm finger into his chest.

“YOU HAVE A LOT OF NERVE!”

He’s never seen you so angry. His Y/n, shy, sweet, and supportive of his dream. You’ve always been there for him and now here he was throwing it all away. The look of realization crosses his face.

“You slapped me, scream at me, lay around and drink, don’t pay rent, AND COMPLAIN AND COMPLAIN AND COMPLAIN FOR OVER FIVE MONTHS STRAIGHT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE DAVID, I CAN’T TAKE YOU ANYMORE.”

He’s in utter shock. Now he’s just about sober, or closest to sober he ever has been over the five months.

“Honey please understand that I-”

“UNDERSTAND AND GET THE FUCK OFF YOUR ASS AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!” You push his form away from you. His outstretched hands pleading for your forgiveness fall to his sides.

“Is… Is this it for us?” He sniffles. No no no he can’t imagine a world without you.

Sighing and pinching your nose you nod. “Yes this is it. I can’t take it anymore so we’re done. We’re breaking up.”

“Anything but that Y/n, please baby I’m so fucking sorry.”

He reached up slowly to hold your face, when you didn’t back away this time he cupped both your cheeks and leaned in close.

“I’ll change. I’ll cut down the drinking, I’ll get a job, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay with me. Just please,”

He dropped down on his knees and hugged your waist, burring his face in your tummy.

“please don’t leave me.”

Dropping your bag at your side you kneel down on his level and wrap your arms around him which he returns. Like a starved man he takes in your scent like it’s the last time he’ll ever have the opportunity. His tear stained face buried into your neck as small whimpers and pleads left his lips.

“One more chance Dave. But if I even so much as catch you doing drugs or drinking then we’re over. I’ll help you though okay?” Your fingers brushed his long locks. Feeling him nod you continue.

“We can do it together. It’s always been us right? Just you and me Dave. Your dream isn’t dead yet, you can still have your band and play your music.”

An excruciating cry left his lips. “What have I done? I don’t deserve you N/n..”

Pulling him off of you you gently caressed his puffy tear ridden face that reflected your own.

“Dave listen to me.” You wiped the stray hairs from his face. His glossy eyes looked into your own.

“I would never give up on you that easily okay? But you’ll have to accept my help. If you don’t accept my help then there’ll be no point.”

He nodded.

“So will you stop with all this drinking nonsense, get your act together, and chase your dreams?”

A smile that outshone glistening gold crept onto his face. “Hell yes.” He pulled you in close and kissed your lips lovingly.

“I can’t believe I went so long without your kisses… I missed you so much N/n, and I’m sorry I was away for so long.”

Wiping your tears away you smiled, “I’m glad you’re back love.”

[sharpth1ng]

Saw your post replying to the ask about 'losing a Billy person' and it got me thinking about this. I guess I'm a Billy person who's (nearly) lost their Stu person (which is actually rare and quite the opposite to their dynamic) In WoM Billy decides to move and start a new life afar from Stu because all the shit that's happened and his feelings about him and stuff so he's being sort of avoidant too. They both have very poorly communication skills and they definitely don't resolve anything so I can totally picture Billy getting away from Stu when he starts doing dumb shit (and because of Billy's fear of abandonment because of his mom, he doesn't wanna get hurt, feel vulnerable... etc) and when he doesn't get in exchange the kind of feedback he wants, ( a Stu who's devoted to him and their relationship, a lifetime partner, and everything he's bowed to) How would Billy deal with a lack of commitment? An unexpected betrayal? I guess I love angsty Billy way too much, lol. I'm a big fan of Stu going thru the process of grief but if the opposite happened how would Billy cope with it? My take on this is: bad copying mechanisms, tons of unleashed anger that he's been boiling up and listening to the same 3 depressive alt rock CD'S.

Also, re-reading Debaser and Wom it's like my biggest source of comfort atm so thanks for sharing your amazing writing with us<3

I think the way I write him Billy is also terrified of the idea of a lifetime partner tbh. Does he want that internally? Desperately, but because of the situation with his mom he doesn't feel safe wanting that.

Allowing himself to fully want and have Stu means acknowledging that he would be worse off without him, that he needs him on some level. Billy's got that self-sufficiency type toxic masculinity, he thinks he needs to be perfectly ok on his own and that he shouldn't ever need to rely on anyone else (which is just not how people work).

As a result, Billy running away in WoM is very much avoidance because he got a taste of what it would be like if he lost Stu and he couldn't handle it. Literally all of this is happening because Stu is too trustworthy, too reliably supportive, and Billy essentially thinks that enjoying that makes him weak.

So if there was an actual betrayal? He's going nuclear honestly. It doesn't even have to be the biggest betrayal. Stu's basically the last person he actually trusts in the world, he definitely doesn't trust Nancy anymore. Really the only reason he hasn't totally blown up at her is that he's put her on a pedestal, he sees her as a victim in this situation. So her actions are somewhat justified to him, but at the same time any trust he had for her has completely eroded.

Now with Stu, where he actually does trust him and also is essentially afraid of what that means? If he was betrayed or that trust was broken he would take that to mean that he was right; trusting or relying on anyone else is a bad idea. I think his specific reaction depends on what happened- if its a smaller thing yeah he might just run away, self isolate, smoke too much and get really aggro in general.

If it's anything even a little bit bigger though I think he would be on an actual warpath, like its Billy Loomis vengeance time and we all know what that means. He might decide to make Stu's life a living hell in a lot of little ways or he might decide to bottle it up, act like things are normal the way he did with Sid and then completely tear Stu's life down around him.

Either way I think this results in a much more self-destructive Billy than what we saw in his revenge plan with Sid. A Billy who's lost his trust in Stu is a Billy without direction, without comfort, and I think ultimately a Billy without hope. Like worst case scenario I do think he might try to kill Stu, but either way this is a Billy defending fully into nihilism.

So yeah, if there’s a lack of commitment? Billy is gone, he’s isolating and he’s telling himself he doesn’t need anything or anyone. If it’s a betrayal? He’s on the warpath.

[in-death-we-fall]

The Ultimate Rockstar Test

This week: Wednesday 13

Bands like to think they’re badass, but who’s truly the most rock’n’roll of them all? We test them and find out who’s top of the class for chaos!

Words: Dan Slessor

(drive link)(Joey's Rockstar Test)

What’s the worst condition you’ve left a hotel room in? “I was 17 when a venue I was playing first offered up a hotel room to stay in after the show. Having read up on all the excesses of classic bands, I was excited. So, we took all the towels in the room, soaked them in water, jammed them in the fridge, and whacked it to its coldest so they all froze into a block of ice. We also glued the Bible to the table – dumb shit like that. The owners were so pissed, and luckily we got away before they could sue us!” Frozen towels? Well, that’s a surprisingly inventive pass ✔

Have you ever shed blood in the name of rock’n’roll? “Oh yeah, teeth, too, and there have been a couple of broken bones along the way. I have a fake front tooth and half of one, too, and I must have broken those 10 or 15 times on microphones and guitars. I busted my head on a monitor once and bled through a show, and I also fractured my ankle on the first night of a tour and spent the next two months dancing and wiggling away on it.” Have you ever thought about investing in a gumshield? Pass ✔

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen a bandmate do? “It used to ve strange seeing your bandmate taking a shit in public, but it’s funny how you get used to that. On Murderdolls’ first tour, Kerrang! Came out and were taunting us, saying we should be more crazy. The next thing you know, Joey [Jordison, Murderdolls guitarist] is taking a shit right there in the street. Later on, we were making tonnes of noise in the parking lot, and this old lady came out of her house and yelled at us, and I ended up throwing a bottle at the wall by her and she called the cops. Shitting in the street may actually have been the nicest thing to happen that night…” When public defecation is the nicest part, you know it’s bad. Pass ✔

Have you ever thrown a diva-esque tantrum? “There was one time on tour with Murderdolls when a local band who were opening one of the shows kept coming into our dressing room uninvited. It wasn’t just that they were coming in all the time, they were drinking our booze as well! After it happened the first time I was like, ‘Alright, okay, whatever.’ But then they came back and did it again, just coming into our dressing room and helping themselves to our booze. So I ended up losing it at them. I actually think it was kind of justified – you don’t touch my alcohol, man!” You yelled at the support band. But it was sort of reasonable. And divas aren’t reasonable. Fail ✘

Have you ever broken an instrument in anger? “Not actually in anger, but I’ve broken stuff in the spirit of rock’n’roll. At a London show, I had a guitar I’d been playing for four or five years, and in the last song I threw it as high as I could while it was still plugged in. When it finally hit the stage, it made one of the coolest sounds I’ve ever heard!” You intended to do it = more rock’n’roll = pass ✔

What’s been you craziest rider request? “In Germany, we sent this runner out to get us a (sic) McDonald’s. I wrote down everyone’s order, and at the bottom I added 25 vanilla ice cream cones. He gets to McDonald’s and calls our tour manager and says, ‘I can’t carry all the ice cream cones, I’m going to have to make two trips!’ I kinda laughed at that…” Ice cream is a rubbish rider request. However, you did make some poor lackey go and get it like a proper diva, so pass ✔

What’s the strangest place you’ve ever woken up? “In the woods, in Germany. We’d played Rock Am Ring the same day as Slipknot headlined, and it was the first time I’d seen Joey in years. Having played at 1pm, I got completely hammered, sprayed a fire extinguisher at Randy Blythe [Lamb Of God] and trashed Slipknot’s dressing room with a tree. It was in a pot in the corridor, and I thought it was artificial, so I picked it up, walked in, and called, ‘Hey Joey!’ I threw it at him, and I may as well have thrown a giant bucket of dirt in there. So, I fled before Slipknot killed me, and some hours later I woke up in the woods…” …and that was the last time Slipknot threw you a surprise party. Pass ✔

Wednesday scored 82% Wednesday’s always seemed like a pretty good rockstar to us. So we expected good things from his turn at The Test. But it was his imagination more than his antics that did him well here – frozen towels, glued Bibles and the cunning use of a tree. Even the ice cream request was amusing, although, next time, maybe ask for something a little bit more glamorous. Like, we dunno, peacocks. Or Kinder Surprise.

2013 Leaderboard ↑Perry Farrell, Jane’s Addiction - 98% Nikki Sixx, Mötley Crüe - 91% Mike Shinoda, Linkin Park - 81% ↓Winston McCall, Parkway Drive - 58%

[glorioustrashcheesecake]

Marvel/X-Men Oc

Okay so we’re gonna start with basic info first-

Name: Sonnet Juno Hart (Prefers Sonnet or just Juno)

Age: 17 (18 in October)

Gender: They’re still figuring that one out

Pronouns: Any

Abilities: Banshee scream/sonic voice and voxikinesis (can change their voice).

Relatives: Distant with parents and has unknown siblings they never met.

Languages: English, Spanish, Italian and German.

Now for a taste of their lore-

Sonnet was raised by both of their parents, surprisingly they didn’t traumatize them in any way. All their arguments were behind closed doors, they were as patient as they could be and didn’t really care for anything but their kid.

When Sonnet was in middle school, that’s when things went south- It was a classic teenage prodigy burnout. Their parents suggested they try a hobby that makes them happy, and they chose musical theater.

Sadly, that didn’t really work out. The stress hit them hard and their assistant director was doing his best to help.. or that’s what Sonnet thought he was doing.

MENTION OF S/A AND CREEPY NASTY STUFF AHEAD, DO NOT READ FURTHER IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU.

To keep this short- they were taken advantage of.. but while this was happening, something clicked in Sonnet’s head.

Scream.. you need to scream.

They screamed as loud as they could and there it was, their power- It was so strong that half the windows in the building shattered and the assistant director’s ears bled severely, probably making him deaf for life and also causing some damage to the brain.

That’s what he gets for being a piece of shit.

Cops flooded the area (mostly because of the superpowered scream) dragged the nasty pervert out of there and arrested him immediately. One of the officers gave Sonnet something to cover up with-

“Hear, take this..” and they look at all the broken glass around the building, “..was this all you?”

And this scared and shaky 13 yr old says, “I-I didn’t mean to, I was scared..”

The officer gets her out of there and gets her parents updated on the situation- They both cried about what happened to them but were shocked to hear that their child is something special.. a mutant.

Both of her parents moved away before they could take her away and hid Sonnet- Homeschooling was the next best option for them- It worked really well.

But there was an important lesson they were taught for the next 4 years of their life.. don’t scream.

That caused a lot of bottled up anger that’s now just WAITING to be released.

When they turned 17, they ran away- Living in a slightly older friend’s apartment and working to keep themselves afloat.

and that’s all I have for now!

Please don’t be afraid to ask me anything in the comments/replies or my askbox! Hope you guys like Sonnet, you’ll get some art of them soon.

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 7

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 (maybe 4??) parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 3

Chapter 7

Matt was drunk.

It wasn’t a state of being that he enjoyed. And it definitely wasn’t one he found himself in often - he relied on his senses and reflexes too much to dull them with alcohol. But some situations in life called for the oblivion of being shit-faced. Like bonding with your new best friend in college. Celebrating passing the Bar.

And finding out the woman you love is a lying murderer. 

Matt downed the liquor in his glass - no longer feeling the burn as it slid down his throat - and motioned the bartender for another.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” The voice came from behind him, the dry, mocking monotone instantly recognisable.

Jessica Jones.

“Whatta you doing here?” he asked, as she took the stool next to him.

“I should be asking you that. This is my regular joint, not yours.” To prove her point, she nodded to the bartender, who immediately plucked a bottle of Jack Daniels from the shelf and placed it in front of her. “Thanks, Diego.”

Matt snatched the bottle and poured a fifth into his own glass.

Jessica quickly grabbed it back. “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood, Murdock, otherwise I would have smashed this over your head.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Matt muttered.

Jessica laughed. “No. I have a thing against picking on pathetic, sad-sack lawyers when they’re drowning their sorrows.”

“Everyone’s gotta have principles.” Matt meant it as a joke, but the words just served to remind him of why everything had gone so wrong tonight.

“You wanna talk about it?” Jessica asked, her voice uncharacteristically kind.

Matt scrubbed a hand over his face. The move dislodged his glasses, so he yanked them off and dropped them on the bar in front of him. He’d gone straight home after the confrontation with Calina, knowing that he wasn’t in the right headspace to be out as Daredevil. He’d shoved on his sweats then started pacing his apartment, too wound up to relax.

That’s when he’d realised he needed a drink. He needed to blunt all the anger and the pain and the misery he was feeling before it drove him to do something reckless. Something violent.

Like storm that warehouse in Jersey and beat every living soul in it to pieces.

So he’d found himself here instead, in this half-deserted, dreary, run-down bar. Which was apparently Jessica Jones’ favourite hang-out.

That fit.

“Matt?” she prompted. “Is there something I should know about? Are you here getting smashed because the world is going to end thanks to a shady multinational cabal of evil immortals? Again.”

“No. The world’s not ending. Just my relationship.” Matt shook his head. “Maybe.”

He wasn’t sure where he stood with Calina now. Was there hope for them? Could they salvage what they used to have with this difference of opinion hanging over them?

Matt laughed to himself. The phrase ‘difference of opinion’ was doing a lot of heavy lifting - they didn’t disagree on furniture layout, or whether pineapple belonged on pizza. They disagreed on the very sanctity of life. On the fundamental issue right and wrong.

Could they ever get passed that?

“You and Calina?” Jessica guessed.

“Yeah.”

“Well. Fuck.”

Matt laughed again. “Yeah. Fuck.”

“What happened?”

“She’s a murderous lying liar. The usual.”

Jessica reeled back. “What are you talking about? She seemed so…nice.”

Matt laughed. “She is nice. She’s really nice. And kind, and generous, and smart, and funny. And she smells so fucking good. But she’s also a trained assassin.”

“Are you serious?” Jessica whispered, leaning close so the few other patrons scattered around the bar couldn’t hear. “Did you just find out?”

Matt swirled the dregs of the alcohol in his glass. “No. I’ve known for a while. She’s a Black Widow - trying to go straight. But her former boss is after her, so she’s…taking care of it.”

Part of Matt knew that he shouldn’t be revealing all of Calina’s secrets like this. But another part of him knew that he could trust Jessica - she’d kept his secret all this time, after all.

Besides, he needed to talk to someone about this. He needed to lay out his argument and hear from someone else that he wasn’t over-reacting. That he wasn’t being overly judgemental.

That his goddam principles hadn’t fucked things up for no reason.

Jessica glanced around the room again. Then she grabbed Matt’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “I think we need some privacy for this. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Matt stumbled out of the bar, grateful for Jessica’s strong grip as she guided him back to his apartment. They were quiet as they walked, and Matt used the time to try to sober up - he wanted to be more lucid when he pled his case.

So he breathed deeply, turned his face into the wind, and let the crisp night air shock his system. And when they arrived back at his place he went straight for the coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen. “You want some?” he asked his guest.

Jessica pulled a flask from her jacket pocket. “I’ll stick to this - I’m not a light-weight like you.”

Matt rolled his eyes and finished fixing his drink. Then he collapsed onto the sofa and took a large sip, ignoring the burn to his tongue.

Jessica took the seat opposite. She leaned forward, hands dangling between her spread legs. “Okay, Murdock. Talk.”

Matt took another drink…and did just that. He explained how he'd discovered Calina’s secret. The nature of the Widow program and the Red Room. The mind control. Calina’s escape from that life and the current situation with Volkov.

Everything.

As he finally got to their fight tonight, Matt’s anger re-ignited. He stood up and started pacing the living room. “Now she’s dead set on this plan to murder a man in cold blood! And she expects me to just stand by and let it happen!”

“Wow,” Jessica said, following his movements

“I know!”

“You’ve really got a stick up your ass about not killing people the people who need killing.”

“That’s what you took from that?”

She just shrugged.

“And nobody needs killing,” Matt added coming to a stop. He rested his fists on his hips as he stared down at the woman opposite.

Jessica screwed the cap back on her flask and stowed it back in her jacket, her movements slow and deliberate. Then she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest, pinning him with a stare. “Some people do.”

Matt paused, thrown by the change in her demeanour. Her mocking indifference had mutated into complete seriousness. And that’s when he realised, “You’re talking about Kilgrave.” Matt remembered hearing about the incident that had turned Jessica Jones into a Hell’s Kitchen celebrity.

“That man ruined my life, Matt. He stole my body. My mind. And he used me in a hundred different ways. Which fucked me up in a hundred different ways. Ways that you’ll never understand. But Calina would. She knows what that feels like. Which means I know exactly where she’s coming from. I know exactly why she wants this Volkov guy dead. Some people just don’t deserve their time on this earth.”

“But it’s not up to us to decide that.”

“You decide it all the time.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Every time you spare someone, you’re making that decision. You’re deciding that they get to live. And potentially go on to harm others.”

Matt folded his arms. “The lack of action isn’t an action. Its only the act that is wrong.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Says who? God? Because we don’t all believe in him, you know.”

“What about the law? Do you believe in that?”

“To a point. But you break the law all the time - when you deem it unjust.” She shrugged one shoulder. “A bit hypocritical if you ask me.”

Matt started pacing again, his movements less fevered than before. Jessica was making some of the same arguments as Calina…and they were starting to penetrate. But he still felt such a strong revolt in his soul at the thought of Calina killing people.

And lying to him about it.

And he couldn’t separate one from the other. He couldn’t figure out which sin was angering him the most.

And whether he could let either one of them go.

———

That anger stayed with him through the rest of the night. After Jessica left, and Matt was once again alone in his apartment, the burning fire in his gut kept him awake. And when he arrived at work, he couldn’t hide his mood from his partner.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Foggy yelled after Matt slammed down the phone on one of their clients. “Do I need to remind you that he’s one of the few people we represent who can actually pay us?”

“He’s a scumbag.”

“Yes. But he’s a scumbag with money. We can only afford all the pro bono work you love so much by occasionally putting up with assholes like Anderson.”

Matt shoved at his desk, the pile of papers on the edge toppling to the floor. “I’m so fucking sick of having to compromise like that.”

Foggy held up his hands. “Whoa, where is this coming from? What’s going on with you today?”

Matt raked his hands through his hair, then sighed. “Calina and I had a fight last night. A big one.”

Foggy shrugged. “So you’ll work it out. You always do.”

“I’m not so sure, Fog.” Matt sank back in his chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I found out some things,” he continued, explaining about the Widow’s plans for Volkov, and Calina’s body count since being free of the Red Room.

Retelling the story twice in 12 hours merely served to stoke the outrage within him. But Foggy seemed annoyingly unperturbed. “It didn’t occur to you that their plan involved killing these guys?” he asked. “C’mon, you’re not that naive, Matt.”

Matt picked up the pencil in front of him and started twirling it around, the fidgety action helping him focus as he thought through Foggy’s question. And he quickly came to a realisation. “I was in denial,” he said, shaking his head. “I forced myself not to think about it. Like that night when Calina was under the mind control - I always knew there was something off about her story, but I let it go. I didn’t want to pull at that thread because I was scared of what I would find. I just…I didn’t want to go through it all again, Foggy.”

“What do you mean?”

Matt paused. Then spat out a single word. “Elektra.”

Foggy groaned, “Matt-”

“You said so yourself,” Matt interrupted. “The two of them are so similar. And now I’m back to trying to convince the woman I love not to be a fucking murderer! I’m back in the exact same place!” The pencil in his hand snapped as he clenched his fist.

“This is not the same thing at all!”

“How is it different?” he yelled.

“Because Calina is a good person! Despite all the shit she’s been through, she’s a good person.”

“You barely know her, Fog”

“It doesn’t matter - because I can see the effect she has on you. Elektra brought out the darkness in you, but Calina brings out your light. I’ve never seen you like this with anyone before. These last six months, you’ve been like a different person. You’ve been…balanced. You’ve been happy!”

“Because I didn’t know who she really was!”

“That’s bullshit, Matt. Do you honestly believe she relishes killing people? That she gets off on it, like some psycho? Or is she just a woman trying to escape an unbelievably violent and abusive past who’s had to make some difficult choices?”

Matt leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, then dropped his head into his hands. Of course, he didn’t think that Calina enjoyed killing, or sought it out. He just couldn’t explain why this was bothering him so much.

Foggy obviously couldn’t understand it either. Matt could sense him shaking his head as he looked at him from across the desk. “I don’t get it, Matt. I thought you’d become less…rigid…about this over the past year. Karen thought so too - that’s why she finally felt like she could tell you what happened between her and Wesley. And it didn’t affect your friendship, did it? You didn’t think less of her because of what she did?”

“No,” Matt admitted, clenching fistfuls of his hair.

“And Jessica Jones. You’re friends with her - as much as anyone can be friends with her - and she very publicly and famously killed someone.”

“I know,” he ground out.

“So what’s going on? Why is it so different with Calina?”

Matt suddenly exploded out of his chair. “Because she lied to me! She lied to me for months about killing a man 30 feet away from my apartment. And if I hadn’t asked about Volkvo she would have lied about that too. She lies so easily, its like breathing for her.”

Foggy cocked his head, and studied Matt for a few beats. “What bothers you more - the lying or the fact that you couldn’t tell?”

“Why does that matter?”

“The majority of the human race isn’t a walking lie-detector like you, Matt. We have to live with never knowing if someone is telling the truth. We have to take what people say on faith. I thought a good Catholic like you would be more used to that.”

“Get to the point,” Matt said, through gritted teeth.

“The point is, it seems you’re blaming her as much for her ability to lie, as the lies themselves. And its not exactly her fault that she can lie so well - its the way she was trained.”

“But she still lied, Foggy.”

“I know. And you have a right to be angry about that. You just need to decide if you can forgive her. And whether you can trust her going forward - without the crutch of bring able to monitor her heart rate or whatever it is you do to pick up lies. Do you think that’s possible?”

Matt closed his eyes and hung his head, his anger dissipating. It had been nothing more than a smoke screen, really. A distraction from what he’d really been feeling:

Fear.

Because he didn’t know if he could trust Calina ever again.

And he was terrified of what that meant for them.

———

Matt’s fist hit the leather punching bag with a satisfying slap.

The impact on his bare knuckles was just the kind of pain he was looking for, and he relished the sting from his split skin as he hit the bag again. And again. And again.

Then he kicked it, hard enough to send it swinging away from him, and followed up with a fierce one-two jab. He bounced lightly on his feet, sparring with the inanimate object, whilst trying with every bit of his strength to ignore the scent swirling in the air around him.

He’d arrived at Fogwell’s an hour ago, after Foggy had kicked him out of the office. Apparently, he was too much of a liability to the firm in his ‘current emotional state’. In other words, Foggy didn’t want him jeopardising another one of their revenue streams.

So he’d headed straight for the gym, knowing that his mind always worked through a problem best  when he was in motion. Even better when he was hitting something. But, unfortunately, the moment he’d entered the old building, Calina’s lingering fragrance had hit him.

Which did nothing to improve his thought processes…or his ‘emotional state’.

He’d tried to block it out as much as he could while he got changed and started his work-out, but after so many weeks living apart, his sensitivity to her - her smell, the sound of her voice, the cadence of her heart beat - had magnified. Like a cell phone searching for a signal in a black spot, a part of his mind had always been tuned to her, subconsciously seeking her out everywhere he went - in a crowd on the street; in the queue at the coffee shop; on his rooftop at night.

Which meant there was no escape from the torment of her phantom presence in this musty old gym.

Matt stepped away from the bag with a growl of frustration. It didn’t help that this was the site of their fight last night. He could still taste the adrenaline on the air. The angry, bitter words still seemed to echo off the walls.

He could still hear the sound of Calina’s footsteps as she walked away.

The argument replayed itself in his mind as he sat on the edge of the boxing ring, the sweat cooling on his skin.

And he kept coming back to one thing. A confession from Calina that had shocked him in the moment, but which he hadn’t fully processed until now:

“They strapped us down and ripped out our reproductive organs. Because we were just things to them. To men like Volkov, we were nothing.”

Matt scrubbed his hands over his face as the horrific words rang out in his mind. He’d seen some barbaric stuff over the years, acts of cruelty that had him questioning his faith in humanity and a higher power. But he’d never heard of anything so callously and brutally inhumane.

And the fact that it had happened to his Calina…it was unspeakably awful. He kept picturing her as a teenager, strapped to a gurney as she was violated in that way…

It made him sick. 

And it proved her point.

They did come from two very different worlds. And they had lived very different lives. Which meant he had no right to pass judgement on her actions. To question how she found justice or ensured her safety.

No right at all.

But did it change anything?

He’d already realised earlier today that her decision to kill Volkov and his men wasn’t the main issue they faced.

It was the lies.

Or more accurately, it was the lack of trust between them - on both sides. He couldn’t trust that she was telling him the truth. And she couldn’t trust him to handle her darker secrets.

Matt lay back on the floor of the ring, his head resting on a crooked arm, as he tried to work through his end of the problem.

Could he trust her? Without the crutch of his abilities, could he ever take what she said on faith again?

He just didn’t know.

He’d been burned too many times in the past by the people he loved. It had started as far back as he could remember with his Dad, and the lies about his mother. Then his mother had perpetuated those lies after he’d been taken in by the orphanage. Father Lantom had helped. Then there was Stick, and Elektra…

His ability to believe in people had been eroded, bit by bit, over decades. With each newly uncovered lie, with every sin of omission and act of betrayal, the last vestiges of his trust had been shaved away, until he was just a mass of jagged edges.

He’d thought those edges had finally started to smooth out thanks to Calina. He’d found himself opening up to her, letting himself be vulnerable.

Only to be betrayed again.

Could he forgive that and move on? Could he learn to trust her - fully and completely?

If not…what was the alternative?

Matt forced himself to imagine that alternative - a life without Calina. A future without her. No more warm presence in his apartment. No more talks over dinner. No more lazy evenings on the couch, his head in her lap while she read to him. No more sparring in the gym, or laughing beneath the sheets of his bed.

Her scent…gone. Her soft skin…gone. That feeling that he’d had almost from the moment they’d met, of a kindred spirit, someone who understood him, someone he could cherish and build a life with…all gone.

It was unbearable.

He rubbed at his chest, the thought of that emptiness, that loss, causing a physical pain deep in his soul.

What they had was too precious, too special to throw away so easily. He wanted to be with her. Despite her actions, he still loved her.

No, that wasn’t fair.

Her actions had shaped her into the woman he’d fallen in love with. He couldn’t dismiss them so easily.

And he did love her. He loved her bravery. He loved her mind, and her sweet, kind nature. He loved her loyalty to her sisters, and her off-beat humour, and her wide-eyed wonder at the world.

And, yes, he may have once held her on a pedestal - she was right to accuse him of that. But the plinth beneath her feet had crumbled…and he loved her still. Despite of it, and because of it.

And he didn’t want to lose her.

He would accept her decision regarding Volkov. And he would try like hell to trust her going forward. Because she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of a lifetime of broken trust.

He need to get over it. If he had any hope of happiness, he needed to fucking get over it.

Matt quickly sat up and started rummaging through his gym bag for his phone. They needed to talk. It was time to really talk - not just argue and go around in circles. They needed to clear the air and get their relationship back on track. 

Because he couldn’t lose her.

It was as simple as that.

Finally locating the device, Matt dialled her number, and waited to hear her beautiful voice.

————–

Chapter 8

Tag list: @hollandorks @chezagnes @stilldreaming666 @yanna-banana @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[0ctoberust]

striker (helluva boss) headcanons because i am bored early in the morning at work. woohoo~ enjoy some random stuff.

striker is sort of antisocial. he enjoys going out to bars and to gatherings like the harvest moon festival sometimes, but this usually involves him going by himself. he likes to meet new people, but doesn’t enjoy the idea of them staying in his life for more than a day or two. he doesn’t see much of a point in creating valuable relationships, since his line of work is so hectic and he expects that it’ll one day result in his death.

when he goes out, he slams drinks like it’s his job. throughout his work day, he is constantly dealing with stupid shit, whether it’s a target escaping or a client requesting some unreasonable stuff. striker’s good at his job, but it does piss him off from time to time, so he needs something to numb the monotony and stress of it all.

he really hates being emotionally vulnerable. he sees no point in it and just views it as being whiny/incapable. this leads him to bottle his own emotions, which makes his anger much worse when it finally does surface. good thing his job is a nice way to manage this.

if he gets into a committed relationship, expect him to be extremely protective, but also nervous. i don’t foresee him as someone who particularly wants a relationship, but if he ends up in one, he’s going to do what he can to protect that person from all the dangers of hell. he’s also not going to know what the heck to do. he just wants to make them feel happy and safe, but he doesn’t know how to really be there for someone emotionally, so it’s difficult for him and he requires a lot of patience.

he’s very passionate if he likes someone romantically. lots of gentlemanly stuff because he thinks that’s really important. flowers, holding doors, etc. he’s sort of cliche but only in private with that one person. no one else can know, because he hates the idea of his reputation being ruined.

he will not make his relationship known to anyone else. it’ll have to be very private. not just because he’s terrified of being seen as an emotional lil baby, but also because he doesn’t want his s/o to die. he’s got a lot of enemies, and if anyone ever decided to mess his life up, that would be the best way to do it.

he has some snake-like habits because he’s a hybrid. he really likes to sit/lay in the sun for long periods of time, thus why wrath is a really good area for him.

[soleilnomoon]

Hiiii!!! I would like to order a caramel with frozen yogurt with an angel food cake roll and the items 10 and 15 from the side menu!! (zoro)

hiii ♡꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱ thank you for being patient, so sorry this took forever! you gave me a good selection so i had a lot of fun with this 😊

2.3k words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+, mdni; angst, fluff if you squint hard, and smut; feat. a bratty and jealous (surprise, surprise) reader; zoro is a menace as usual and his patience has run thin (who could've guessed); there's some cute stuff like only one bed trope (except it's more like they opted to use that bed), fingering, overstimulation, unwarranted jealousy, rough (consensual) sex, a lil bit of bondage, zoro being mean, alcohol, yk romantic shit.

gambling is not your forte, but you do make a risky gamble when you shove the overly friendly, incredibly flirtatious server aside to put distance between her and zoro. he looks at you strangely, brow raised at your suspicious behavior as you grab his arm and try to drag him off with you. the bar is packed, the air sweet, salty, and greasy — but you ignore all the noises and smells, determined to get out so you can lash out at him comfortably. long gone are the days where you have drunk arguments in public, you’ve graduated to fighting indoors now. he left with the bottle of rum and grins slyly as you mutter to yourself under your breath.

“what’s this all about?” he inquires, curiosity eating away at him as you huff again, hand holding onto his tightly. he could stop you, if he wanted — but he doesn’t, instead opting to see just how far your temper tantrum will get you.

“don’t play stupid,” is all you say when you make it back to the ship, footsteps loud as you stomp to your room with him in tow. your anger is unwarranted, but all he does is take another swig from the bottle of rum and laugh when you lock the door behind you. “it’s not funny.” you clench your teeth and grab the bottle from him, drinking deeply from it before placing it on your nightstand. he offers you a lazy shrug in response and takes a seat on the armchair near the window. your crew mates are still partying on the island, so you have no qualms in raising your voice as you speak.

“she was flirting with you,” your words are terse and leave very little room for discussion. he tilts his head back and thinks back to the conversation; he wouldn’t say she was flirting per se, but she was friendlier with him than she was with everyone else. he didn’t think much of it at the time, but since he knows how you get, it was only a matter of time before you concocted some sort of dramatic tale in your mind — he swears those romance novels will be your downfall, if you’re not careful.

zoro closes his eye and considers your words once again.

“she was being nice,” he says casually, not bothering to fight because you’re overreacting and he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it. “stop getting worked up over stupid things.”

you glance at him sharply, brows furrowed as his words glide down your skin and suffocate you slowly. “if you acted like you were in a relationship then maybe she wouldn’t have been ‘so nice’.” you stand in front of the chair, anger wafting off of you, dangerous small waves that knock into him repeatedly.

he grins and pulls you onto his lap. “your jealousy is cute,” he says in between littering kisses along your jaw, “unnecessary, but cute.” your face heats up at his strange compliment, so he takes the opportunity to trap your bottom lip between his teeth — tugging and sucking playfully. you squirm, a deep shudder making you cling onto him as you roll your hips against his.

“i’m serious,” a sigh drifts out of your mouth as he presses a lingering kiss on the base of your throat, “i’m mad at you.” he leaves a few more kisses behind — each one more dizzying than the last, your sighs and whimpers encouraging him to bite you — and even though you insist that you’re still mad, you somehow find yourself brushing your lips against his in the end. despite having zoro to yourself, jealousy still sits on your chest, drowning out common sense, making you say things that you don’t necessarily mean — like, why don’t you go back to her? and are you sure you want to be with someone like me?

it’s not for a lack of confidence on your part, but that little green monster drags its claws up your back, wraps them tight around your neck, watching you choke and stumble over your words as you try to explain yourself. zoro drops a kiss on your lips before flicking your forehead with his fingers.

“stop stressing over the small stuff,” he says quietly, annoyance coloring his words, making him get off the chair and carry you to your bed. “i’m tired of hearing you complain about the same shit.” his frank manner of speaking is part of why you fell in love with him in the first place, but what you enjoy the most is when his irritation reaches a boiling point and he has no choice but to act. he tosses you onto the bed and you scramble around, trying to get your bearings as he pulls his shirt off.

moonlight filters into the room, casting additional shadows as he leans forward and crowds your space. the light makes it easy to make out the sharp dips and curves of his muscles, which is why you reach a hand out, drag your fingers along the skin, enjoy the way he inhales at your touch — a spirit determined to haunt him for the duration of the night; moored and restless.

“why are you still dressed?” it’s a command moonlighting as a question — zoro reigns supreme at phrasing things in a way that don’t overtly feel stern, but you know if you don’t comply he’ll concoct a creative punishment for you. it’s tempting enough that you want to keep being difficult, but the fierce look in his eye makes you swallow hard and take your clothes off slowly — to whet his appetite. you open your mouth to let him know how unfair it is that you’re naked and he’s not, but he grabs your neck and rubs his thumb against your skin — almost as if he’s daring you to say something else. the words somehow vanish and all that’s left behind is a small squeak that makes him chuckle darkly.

“that’s what i thought,” his voice is low and husky, almost as if his words are an afterthought. “you get so damn jealous and for what?” he releases his hold and motions for you to move to the center of the bed.

it’s really the rum that has him in a somewhat decent mood, or else your stunt at the pub would infuriate him completely. so, naturally, he believes it’s time to remind you that your jealousy will always be misplaced, no matter what. and while his annoyance might peak every now and then the more he thinks about it, he also can’t deny his arousal. seeing you riled up like that, ready to fight the world for something so simple and petty, has his cock hard and heavy, the fabric of his pants stretched tight around his bulge. you’re an odd pair, to say the least — but the push and pull is what keeps you two together.

besides, if there is one person he’ll willingly allow to annoy him — even more than the rest of your crew mates — it’s you; always, always you.

in hindsight, you fucked up. you should’ve kept your feelings at bay, shouldn’t have shoved the poor server, and shouldn’t have dragged zoro away from the festivities to try and pick a fight. you think about this as you tug on your hands and struggle to move; the rope digs into your wrists and no matter how much you squirm, zoro hovers over you, amusement etched over his features. your hands are tied to the headboard, and despite knowing the outcome you still pull at the restraints, panting lightly as you look up at him.

“okay, okay,” you start, lower lip jutting out so you can pout, “i’m sorry, i overreacted just a bit.” eyebrow quirked, zoro peers at your face, hawkish gaze making your guilt drag the truth out of you finally. “well, maybe not a bit. i overreacted a lot, okay? i know.” there’s no real use in pleading your case, zoro’s already made up his mind.

“so?”

his blasé attitude pisses you off, and the look on your face is priceless — even more so with the way you’re still struggling with the restraints. “what do you mean ‘so’?” he’s long shed the rest of his clothes, and you feel his cock against your skin as he cages his arms around you. he lowers his mouth to your heaving chest, body feverish once his teeth graze your skin. you know better than to keep your mouth shut at this point, but you do it anyway, hips bucking when he swirls his tongue around your hard nipples.

“i mean what i mean,” he says in between licking and sucking, already leaving behind several marks that will likely bruise later, ones that have you whimpering relentlessly — the noise trapped in your mouth as your body continues to betray you. “and you’re not that sorry,” he adds as he pushes your legs apart, “but that’s okay.” because there were plenty of times he’s half-assed apologies for various things, so he can’t really blame you — but, if he doesn’t temper that attitude of yours, you’ll just explode even more the next time.

his fingers move in between your thighs — that ache growing strong and throbbing in a way that has you trembling — stroking deftly as your back arches off the bed. he slips a finger inside of you, enjoying the way you clench around him needily; it’s when he pumps his finger in and out, movements lazy and slow, that you finally cry out. frustrated and more aroused than you thought you’d be, you roll your hips forward to try and get him to move faster. but he doesn’t. zoro eyes you warily, and you settle down. you know what he’s going to do — he’ll edge you until you’re in tears begging — and while you’re annoyed at yourself for getting to this point, you’re also excited for the prospect of zoro fucking you senselessly.

he swaps his finger for his tongue, flicking and swirling around, your core aching and throbbing; you thrash under his hold when he inserts another finger, increasing his pace as he stretches you further. while he’d love to drag things out, he knows that he’s barely holding on, his cock twitching slightly, his need to be inside you steadily clouds his need to teach you a lesson. meanwhile, you’re already gasping and moaning as zoro plunges his fingers in deeper, thighs trembling as you try to keep up with his pace.

“zoro, please, please,” you lick your lips, face heating as you muster the courage to beg without crying; a familiar heat licks around your abdomen, spreading throughout your body quickly. “fuck, please i’m sorry!” tears manage to spill and he tilts his head at you. “just…please, i can’t take it anymore. i need you to fuck me.” and fast. his smirk is inevitable, but he does remove his fingers and teases your entrance — tender and sensitive — with the tip of his cock. you swear that if you make it out of this alive, you’ll turn over a new leaf. you let out a shaky breath as he inches inside of you, his girth stretching you further — a bit of pain to go with the pleasure, you remind yourself. he grabs one of your legs and drapes it over his shoulder, pausing momentarily so you can adjust properly; he snaps his hips against yours hard, burrowing his cock inside, groaning at how tight you are.

you doubt you’ll ever get used to the way he fucks you, which is a good thing in your book. zoro pulls back only to slam his cock back inside of you, your moans building in volume with each thrust of his hips. he presses a kiss on the inner part of your leg, right near your knee, the tenderness a sheer contrast from the way you buck against him, his powerful strokes nearly incapacitating you. he leans forward, cock disappearing inside of you completely, and kisses you — it’s all teeth and tongue, sloppy in a way that makes you moan his name pitifully against his lips. you’re more than lost, but he anchors you by trailing kisses along your jaw, licking down the length of your neck, bringing you higher and higher.

nails sinking into your palms, you feel yourself lose momentum, eyes rolling back as you wrap your legs around him and keep him close to you. he knows it means you’re teetering on the edge, orgasm just out of your reach — and while he should pull out, let you lay there for the rest of the night to reflect on your behavior, he doesn’t. mostly because he’s too far gone to keep up the charade, and because each time you call out his name, it stokes a small warmth that flutters around his chest. your muscles tense just as your plush walls squeeze around his length; your heart beats wildly, making you swallow back your moan, hips jerking forward to meet his brutal thrusts.

your orgasm seemingly comes out of nowhere, arousal spilling down your thighs, legs limp and useless — but despite all of that, zoro’s cock reaches a spot that’s deep enough to make your vision blur. his moans ripple along your skin, and his thrusts lose their rhythm as he cums inside of you. panting lightly, he grinds his hips against yours before pulling out. he unties your hands and gently kisses your wrists, almost as if he’s apologetic for keeping you like that. you shiver and pull him down for another kiss — it’s warm and tender, which is how zoro really knows that you’re sorry. still, you did learn your lesson — that acting bratty in front of a tipsy zoro will inevitably lead to your downfall. and, if anyone were to ask, you’d happily say that you’ll go down that path any day of the week.