#my life is a permanent art block

[ithinkishouldchooseabettername]

I've been trying to draw something for like 2 hours and all I could do is this thing

[nonsense-is-everywhere]

(TW: DRAWN BLOOD, DISTURBING VISUALS.)

Wouldn’t it be messed up if-

Inspired by @/libbytwq’s post and @/tophatwearingidiot’s post

[ironicsoap]

you are expendable, you are not expected to return

[jahanmp4]

I love Pomme's duality so much.

She loves flowers and animals and is so happy to help decorate w/ her parents, she writes beautiful entries in her journal and is artsty. Most people who don't watch POVs with her have this image of a sweet, calm child, which she is. She has pretty cheek marks and butterfly wings, has a personal art gallery and always tries to find goodness in people.

At the same time she's a CORPSE the poor girl stays up in the late hours of the night, she's gotten better at PVP thanks to q!Etoiles' guidance, she always has the best gear and never sleeps without her scythe. She genuinely fears to lose a life because that would mean not being the obvious target anymore, therefore putting all the eggs on an equal footing when it comes to threats. She's paranoid, in a constant state of fear that never truly leaves her. She has nightmares to the point where she doesn't want to go to sleep, and would, literally, die for her siblings. Her sense of sacrifice is such an amazingly unhealthy mix with her fear of explosions and immense hatred towards ElQuackity, planning on killing him just before they ended up disappearing. She hasn't known anything but fear her entire life, and somehow her need for survival is overshadowed by her fear of losing the people she cares about.

She's also dramatic, but the same way someone passionate about their favourite topics could be. She literally dug a hole to hide in when she saw a glass block that looked so ugly to her she couldn't even look at it (I am not stretching she literally said something along the line of it being "evil" in a "Get that thing out of my face" way.) She cannot bear the feeling of holes being covered up with just 1 block it HAS to be filled completely back to its original state, she loves symmetry to a sometimes irrational amount, she makes self-deprecating jokes and makes a habit of hitting her parents repeatedly when they say something she doesn't like (ESPECIALLY Baghera and Etoiles they have a permanent Pomme-hand-shaped dent on their backs.)

And I find it kind of beautiful that no matter what, most often than not Pomme fanart will always be really sweet, because she's still inherently loving at heart, and the beret+cheek marks+butterfly wings combo is just too cute. But she's cuter in a dumpster raccoon/possum way rather than in a rabbit/puppy way. The only complaint I could have about Pomme fanart is the lack of dark circles because you know that girl needs some sleep

[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 08 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06  07 08 09

Wordcount: 8.3k

Warnings: canon level violence (guns, physical fighting), allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), some angst

Notes: HI I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY. life, ya know? but enjoy this little treat, please. and.. uhm.. sorry.

---

“We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”

You took in a hard breath and scanned the man - he had a permanent smug look to him, something that made you feel unsettled. The tag around his neck with his badge indicated his name was Grant Ward, NYPD detective. 

“Give me back my phone,” you said, slowly emptying your lungs in an attempt to stay calm. “Now.”

Ward shook his head, grinning. “Not yet. C’mon, let’s chat.” He slipped your phone inside his jacket pocket and grabbed your elbow, urging you to step further across the sidewalk in front of a closed down shop. “I got your info from Hammond’s file. You were a witness on a little vehicular assault case a while back, right?”

Nothing about this felt proper or to procedure. But you wanted it to end as quickly as possible, so you nodded. 

“What I need to know is why Steve Rogers asked you to lie on your witness report and identify the wrong person.” 

“Excuse me?” Your voice cracked as you tried to piece together what he was saying. “I didn’t lie about anything. Shouldn’t - shouldn’t Officer Hammond be following up with me - if there was an issue?”

“I’ve reopened the investigation.” Ward leaned against the building, glancing up and down the street casually as he spoke. “Your intentional misidentification put someone innocent in jail. How do you sleep at night?”

“I didn’t lie,” you repeated, swallowing hard. Hercules paced at your feet. 

“You’re lying right now. Rogers told you who to point out in that police lineup, didn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in this man’s face but given he was technically a person of the law, you resisted. Instead, you pursed your lips and opted to stay quiet. Shouldn’t you have a lawyer or something to represent you? God, why weren’t you into legal dramas instead of reality tv?

“Here’s what it looks like. Rogers asks you to help him out and in turn, you get a fancy new apartment. Isn’t that right?” Ward took a step forward and pointed past you, towards the rest of the block. “How else can you afford a luxury apartment working your little 9-5 gig? I verified your record of employment and something just doesn’t add up.”

Before you had a chance to reply to his asinine claim, he was reaching for his buzzing phone. “This is Ward.” You tried to listen to the other end of the call, but couldn’t make out the voice. 

He looked back at you, eyes roving up and down as he carried on with his phone conversation. “You’re kidding. That was all true? Wow. Okay. Yeah, I’m with her. Sure.” He raised his free hand and suddenly a nearby SUV was pulling up. “Heading there now.”

Your stomach twisted when Ward turned back to you. 

“Let’s go.” He tipped his head towards the vehicle, where the driver had gotten out to open the back door. “We’ve gotta move this chat elsewhere.”

Your eyes blew open, head shaking. “Absolutely not. Give me my phone and —“

Ward stepped towards you again, grabbing your hand that was holding onto Hercules' leash. “If you don’t get in that car willingly, you’ll have a dead dog on your hands. Is that what you want?” He flashed you a smile. “Let’s. Fucking. Go.”

--

“Storm coming tonight..”

Steve looked up from his plate of pasta, watching his mom across the table as she put down her cutlery. Sarah rubbed her hands together, tired with the weight of time and the pressure of weather changes that seemed to grow worse with each passing season. 

“I can feel it in these old joints,” Sarah continued, leaning back in her chair before glancing to the window above her kitchen sink.

“Ma,” Steve finally replied, quietly returning his own fork to the side of his plate. “Why don’t you skip the rest of this monologue about the weather and tell me what’s really on your mind?”

Steve tried to have dinner with his mother at least once a week, if time permitted. The last few months had been a bit chaotic for him though, mostly his own doing of course. And Sarah hadn’t pressed when he canceled. But, something about her tone and strange casual conversation wasn’t sitting well with him. In fact, he could read his mother really well and she was upset, maybe even mad at him. If there was one thing Steve hated, it was when his mother was upset with him.

He liked to nip it in the bud as quickly as he could.

Sarah sighed, slowly crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed down her son. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you about who I ran into at the hospital a few weekends ago.”

“You gonna give me a clue?” Steve smirked, taking a long pause to enjoy a sip from his wine glass. “Who?”

When your name left his mother’s lips, Steve felt his chest tighten. He had very quickly and casually explained to her that you and he had called things off, respectfully asking Sarah not to press him for details. Surprisingly, she hadn’t asked any follow up questions, though Steve knew she hadn’t been feeling positive about the news. In fact, he had assumed his mom would have had a much more passionate reaction. And maybe it was still coming.

He took a deep breath. “Oh. And.. how is she?” Would it be possible for this conversation to only last one more sentence? Would he be able to get out of it without his mother making him feel any worse?

When Steve met his mom’s gaze again, he knew that question wasn’t what he should have asked. He was starting to think maybe saying nothing would have been best.

“How is she?” Sarah repeated, letting out a hard laugh. “Steven.”

“Ma, listen, what happened between us is..” He hesitated. Complicated was not the word he wanted to use, but what else could he say? “I had to cut things off. She’s safer this way.” 

There. His heart was torn off his sleeve and slapped onto his plate. 

“Steve,” Sarah was softer this time, releasing the anger from her shoulders as she reached across the table for his hand. “You’re not being fair. To yourself. How are you supposed to live this way? Don’t you want a family in the future? Or a break from.. everything?”

Steve squeezed her hand but didn’t respond. Sarah waited another moment for him to say something, then stood and carried her plate to the sink. 

Without turning back around, she continued. “I told her about Hamilton House.”

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair again and shaking his head. “Ma..”

“Why didn’t you just talk to her? She would have understood.”

“You barely made it out of that fire alive!” Steve pushed back from the table and met his mother at the sink, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I can barely live with myself as is, but if something happened to her too, I’d..”

“Honey,” Sarah’s voice was even quieter now as she pivoted to look at him. She reached her hand up to cradle his face. “You need to stop blaming yourself, please.”

How could he ever do that? The scars were still quite obvious on many parts of his mother’s body - 

“Steve.” Sarah took in another deep breath. “I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. And so is she.” There was your name again, coming off of Sarah’s tongue like it just warmed her soul. “She’s good for you.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” A painful laugh gurgled up in Steve’s throat. “I made pretty sure she’ll never talk to me again, unfortunately.”

“Steven.” This time the soft edge had left Sarah’s tone. The disappointment was back. “Don’t tell me you pushed that girl away on purpose.”

“I’m a grown man who can take care of himself,” Steve repeated back to her, stepping away from the sink and turning to grab his coat. “I’ve gotta go, Ma. Thanks for dinner.”

Sarah grabbed his wrist, eyes bright with words she wouldn’t say. Instead, she shook her head and sighed quietly. “At least take a container of pasta for Bucky.”

---

The further the vehicle traveled beyond your neighbourhood, the further your stomach sank. You did your best to listen to the conversations happening between Ward and his driver, but nothing seemed clear. 

Where were you going? Were you in trouble? You hadn’t lied to the police - you knew better than that. But how could you prove that when clearly they had another story created? Was this about Steve? You weren’t even talking to him. What the hell was going on?

The only thing saving you from a breakdown was Hercules resting his head on your lap. Gently you scratched behind his ears, doing your best to reassure your dog as he did the same for you. 

You were going to be okay. There had to be a positive solution to this mess. 

Eventually, the vehicle slowed down in an industrial area you weren’t familiar with. In the growing darkness of the night, everything kind of looked the same - rows of large warehouse style buildings, some in much worse shape than the others. As you approached one of the buildings, a garage door opened up to allow you access.

“Let’s go,” Ward barked out as the car stopped, quickly sliding through his door and throwing the one closest to you open. He reached for your nearest wrist. “But first..”

Handcuffs. What you could only assume were police-grade handcuffs joined your wrists together, despite your protests. Ward was choosing every opportunity to remind you he had a gun, so when he told you to head towards the staircase leading out of the parking area, all you could do was comply.

The driver, some other nameless brute listening to Ward’s every word, held on to Hercules’ leash and followed behind. The panic within you stirred.

The building had clearly once been a thriving warehouse or multi-level business hub. Now, it was reduced to whatever criminal activity these men were tied up in. Every second window was boarded up or leaking in cold air through broken shards, with the evidence of previous occupants littering the floors. Old desks, chairs, appliances laid strewn about.

Ward guided you across the second floor, leading towards the far side of the room. You could hear other voices as you approached. He yanked the door open and pressed against your back for you to enter ahead of him.

You stumbled past the threshold, lifting your head up to look around the room. It felt out of place, given the state of the building. This room remained intact from days before, the remnants of an executive office with a large boardroom table sitting opposite the broken windows. A man you didn’t recognize was seated behind an oversized mahogany table, a burning cigar hanging off his lips. Behind him, a disheveled blond wearing an ill-fitting suit jacket stood scrolling through his phone.

That man you did recognize – you were certain he had been one of the men who had broken into your apartment. You could feel the familiar wave of panic come over you again.

Sitting in a pair of chairs in front of the desk were another two men – one dressed in a long overcoat over his suit, with perfectly coiffed hair. The other donned more casual clothes, well worn with a scowl across his face, strong and silent. You thought perhaps you recognized them, too. You might have seen them at Shield or maybe they had worked with Steve? 

“This is her?” The man with the cigar asked, rising from his seat. The other two seated men had turned their heads to look in your direction, then stood the same. 

Ward laughed, returning his gun to his jacket, and reaching a hand to grip your neck. He urged you closer to the desk. 

“Russo – you’re sure?” The same man asked again, shooting a glance at one of the other two men. Ah, nice suit, nice hair - Russo. He had interrupted you and Steve, that day at his office.

“Yep. I know, doesn’t make sense to me either,” Russo replied with a dry laugh, stepping away from the desk and waiting to the side with the other man, Mr. Strong and Silent.

“Walker, you’re on dog duty,” Ward added after. He snapped his fingers and the guy scrolling on his phone was at attention, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Hercules’ leash from the driver. 

Hercules whimpered at the back of the room.

You tried to look towards your confused pup, but Ward’s hands landed on your shoulders. He pushed down to encourage you to sit in one of the vacant seats at the desk.

Finally, the man with the cigar looked at you. A tight smirk curled up on his face as he said your name out loud. “Well, nice to finally meet you. I’m Brock. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

You sat still, hands resting on your lap. You resisted replying with some snappy commentary and instead dug your fingernails into your palms. Maybe you needed to comply, but God, what was the point of all this?

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” you said quietly, letting out a long breath. “I told him-” you jerked your head at Ward, “-everything I said to Officer Hammond was true. Steve didn’t ask me to lie about anything and I’m sorry if someone you know ended up in jail but I had to tell the truth.”

Brock raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, I don’t give a shit about any of that. We’ve gotta fix this and you’re going to help.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. 

“You’re going to meet with Hammond and tell him you lied about-”

You shook your head. “I didn’t lie.”

Brock abandoned his cigar and slammed his hand on the table. “Don’t interrupt me, darling.” He took a breath and started again. “You’re going to meet with Hammond tomorrow morning and set things straight, alright?”

“And if I don’t?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you asked your question. 

Brock leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You’re really asking that? Damn. Well, if you don’t - you’re never going to see your dog again, for starters.”

Your face fell and you shuffled in the chair again, turning to look back towards Hercules. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“What do you think, Walker? The mutt would be good for the pit, huh? They could use some fresh meat for the next fight.”

You gasped as Hercules pulled at his leash, trying to walk to you. Walker held the leash tight.

“P-please. Don’t. He doesn’t deserve that, he’s just..” Your voice shook as you turned and looked back at Brock. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Hammond.” You just had to agree and get out of here. Once you were home, you could call the police station and tell them the truth and and and–

“Hammond is expecting you first thing tomorrow morning at the station.” Ward was looking down at your phone, tapping away at the screen. Great, he was just sending messages on your behalf. You hated that. Clearly you were not getting your phone back. Fuck, how were you going to get out of this?

“Now,” Brock leaned onto his elbows on the desk, returning his cigar to his mouth for a long drag. “Let’s talk about Rogers.”

You gulped.

“I need every little dirty secret you’ve got,” Brock said with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s go. Talk.”

“I don’t..” You faltered, glancing around the room quickly. Russo was watching you carefully while his partner seemed to be preoccupied with his feet, his eyes were drawn down. “I don’t know what you think I might know.. Steve and I.. We.. He broke up with me a while ago.”

A laugh escaped Brock. “I heard that wasn’t the case.”

Russo stepped forward. “Rogers took you home from Shield a few weekends ago, did he not? Drove you right back into your apartment then even walked you to the door?”

You stilled. Why did these men know about that? Were they following you? Or Steve? How did they know where you lived?

“I don’t know anything, I swear. Even when we were..” You closed your eyes. “We didn’t talk about business.”

“You know, I don’t believe you.” Brock let out a frustrated huff and tapped his cigar ash to the floor. “Let’s start easy, alright? Rogers has a ledger, the Bible for all his transactions. Where does he keep it?”

You shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I don’t remember ever seeing a ledger or–”

“Bullshit.” It was Russo jumping in now. “You were fucking him for months. Christ, give us something.”

If you shifted your head back and forth in a shake anymore, you were going to give yourself whiplash. “I-I don’t, really.” You didn’t like how they were both crowding in on you, guns visible on their hips as their voices escalated. “Steve didn’t tell me things - he.. I didn’t..”

“Where does he keep his safe? What buildings did he take you to?” Brock continued on, reciting any thought or question that seemed to jump into his head. “I need to know which Senator is really in his pocket. And what he promised to Rhodes.”

You repeated yourself again and again and again as they bombarded you. “I don’t know, I don’t know! He would never tell me those things.”

“Think harder then.” Brock stood up in a fury, circling the desk to plant himself in front of you. “I need something fucking useful.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to think of something, anything to stop this. Everything you retained about Steve wouldn’t be what they wanted - that he was an old soul, a gentleman who kept your best interests at heart. Who loved old musicals and his mother. Who cared deeply about things but had hurt you deeply, too. None of that would have been helpful so what the fuck were you supposed to do?

“I..” You let out a breath. Would it be worth it to lie?

“If you say ‘you don’t know’ one more goddamn time..” Brock leaned forward, closing in the space between you and reaching for your jaw. He held it between his fingers, keeping you in his grasp waiting for an answer. 

When you didn’t respond, Brock growled and reached for his cigar, flipping it in his fingers and bringing the burning end closer and closer to your exposed neck. You could feel the heat before it even touched your skin and all you could do was scream in anticipation. 

“I don’t– please! Please don’t-” You pressed yourself into the chair, trying to get as far away from him as possible. But, the burning sensation never came.

“Hey–” This was a new voice. The Strong and Silent man lingering near Russo had rushed between you and Brock, shoving him away before the cigar made contact with your skin.  “You said you weren’t going to hurt her.”

Brock pushed him back. “This has nothing to do with you, Castle. Back the fuck off.” 

Castle didn’t move - acting as a barricade between you and Brock. They stood at a standstill, and eventually Brock let out a long dramatic sigh. “Ward.” He snapped his fingers again and Ward came forward. Once again, a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Take her up to the roof.”

---

“Do we not fucking knock anymore?” Steve called out as Bucky burst into his office, dragging Peter by the collar as he did.

Steve’s patience had run thin following dinner with his mother. She had managed to stir everything else up again, the feelings Steve was desperately trying to eliminate from his heart. Yet, they hadn’t dulled over time like he wanted. They remained steady, as steady as the beat of his heart. 

“She’s good for you.”

On top of that, they had managed to clear out most of the out of territory drug dealers creeping into Brooklyn. But it hadn’t really stopped. The drugs still found their way in, and the problems were escalating moreso. Angry clients, aggravated partners, a particularly frustrated future Mayor who needed Steve’s compliance and trusted network underground for insight. 

The last thing Steve wanted to deal with now was another issue. But when Steve saw the panicked look in Bucky’s eyes as he grabbed Peter’s shirt, Steve paused.

“Show him.” Bucky urged Peter forward, eyes wide in a panic. “Now.”

Steve stood from his chair slowly, meeting the young man in the middle of his office. “What’s going on? Is this about Beck again?”

“No, sir. No. It’s uh..” Peter’s hand was shaking as he gripped his cellphone, tapping on the screen before he glanced between Bucky and Steve again. “I keep an eye on social media - mostly just to see what’s happening, who’s hanging out where. My friend Ned he..” Peter shook his head. “Whatever. No one knows it’s me who watches their stuff. So. I was clicking through John Walker’s Instagram stories - that guy is an idiot, by the way. Always trying to bait women to find him at clubs or wherever. And..”

Peter tapped through something on his screen then turned it toward Steve. “Mr. Barnes said he recognized the dog in the background of this video..” 

Steve snatched the phone and pressed play on the screen recording. John Walker was in the middle of the frame, filming himself with the front camera as he talked about which bar he’d be showing up at later. But none of that mattered to Steve. What did matter was the dog tied up in the background, pulling at his lead as he started to bark. 

“Christ. Sorry about the mutt. Dealing with something for work..” 

Steve raised his eyes from the screen, eyebrows furrowed. “When was this posted?”

Peter swallowed before he replied. “About 20 minutes ago.”

Bucky turned to Steve. “Is that..?”

All Steve could do was growl, shoving the phone back at Peter. “Send that to me. Right now.” Steve reached for his own phone, heading out the door of his office towards the primary club facilities. Bucky was at his feet, asking what he could do to help. 

“Buck, call Kate. I need a timestamp for when Hercules was picked up.” 

Bucky nodded and tore off, phone to his ear. 

Steve called Clint directly. “Barton, I need your help.”

---

Kate confirmed you had picked up Hercules just before they closed. She didn’t notice anything concerning, aside from your general demeanor seeming quiet. 

Clint reviewed security footage outside your apartment building entrance, back door and lobby. No sign of you. It’s possible you had picked up your dog then gone elsewhere, but Steve wasn’t convinced. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Steve paced his office again and again, waiting desperately for some information. Peter and Thor had stolen off to a few well known bars to see if they could track down Walker or any of his friends. 

Clint had gone to your building to troll the neighborhood and seek out any additional video footage that might help. 

Steve called Vision to see if he could connect with Wanda to get some information about where you might be, without leading to anything especially suspicious. 

Steve needed to know where you were and if you were okay. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to settle until he knew you were safe - until he saw you himself. 

This was the fucking risk, wasn’t it? Letting you in. People were going to use your relationship against him. It was staring him right in the face all along. Fuck, how could he live with himself if you got hurt?

Steve let out a fit of rage that had been brewing within him. He grabbed the rocks glass off his desk, still half full of melting ice, and sent it flying into the back of his door. 

God fucking damnit. He didn’t like any of this. With no news from Vision and Wanda, his mind was going to bad places.

Steve stalked across the broken glass and threw his door open, grabbing his coat as he left. He found Bucky downstairs at the bar, phone in hand as Natasha leaned beside him. 

“Please tell me someone has some fucking news to share,” Steve growled out as he approached. He didn’t even have to ask Natasha to pour him a drink, as it quickly appeared on the bar. 

“No Walker sightings yet,” Bucky said as he glanced at his phone. As he turned the screen, a new message appeared. 

The text didn’t contain any information or words, just a simple location pin. Bucky tapped on it, revealing an address on the outskirts of Brooklyn. 

“Who sent that?” Steve asked, eyeing over Bucky’s shoulder as he drained his glass. 

“No clue. I don’t know the number.” Bucky replied quietly. “No message either. Just a thumbs up emoji. But the timing is suspect.”

Steve shook his head. What did he have to lose? “Let’s go. Have Sam meet us there.”

---

You should have worn more layers, warmer clothes. Not that you anticipated being abducted on your way home. But you trusted the warm fall morning and now all you had was regret. A thin sweater barely kept you covered and the looming thunder overhead meant the threat of rain was very real. 

Ward had dragged you up the barren staircases to the roof, where he had then removed one of your handcuffs only to attach it to some external pipe system that hugged the outside wall of the building. You could sit on the dirty cold roof or stand and try to peer down, but nothing else. You were stuck. 

When you tried to plead with Ward  for your escape, he only smirked then offered an alternative. 

“Tell you what - if you get on your knees for me, I’ll remove the handcuffs altogether.”

As an answer to that proposal, you spit in his face. He really didn’t like that - which left you pushed to the ground and cuffed with no coverage from wind or impending rain. God fucking damnit. 

Once Ward disappeared through the door again, you yelled for help. If it made any lick of difference, you had no idea. There was another building very close by, yelling distance at least. But it looked abandoned just the same. On the other side of the roof, it looked like an emergency staircase existed. 

Not like you’d be able to escape. You seemed very stuck.

Were they going to leave you out there all night? Was this some scare tactic? What did they want from you - a detailed breakdown of everything you knew about Steve? You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. Despite the ricochet of emotions you had been through with Steve, you still felt.. something to him. Be it loyalty or kindness or whatever, you couldn’t throw him under the bus. 

Steve was a good person. You saw that in him often. But these men? You weren’t so sure. 

What if they left you until you had to meet with Hammond? Ten hours in the cold and rain. You could survive that, maybe. Maybe. 

Thunder rumbled above you. Rain started to fall. 

Fuck. Maybe not. 

In an attempt to make yourself as small as possible, you sat against the side wall and wrapped your free arm around yourself. It didn’t do much to protect you from the rain, but it helped retain what little body heat you still had. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the rain before you heard the access door burst open. You looked up and braced yourself, but felt almost relieved to see it wasn’t Ward again. 

It was Castle. 

He hesitated when he saw you, then quickly hurried in your direction. 

You closed your eyes in a panic. “I’m sorry - I don’t have anything to share about Steve  - I can’t remember if there was—”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not here about that.” Castle crouched down in front of you. “I can’t let you go but let me help, alright?” He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a Swiss Army knife. “I’ll get out of these cuffs at least.”

You braced yourself as he gently touched your wrist, using his tool to work through the lock mechanism. “Thank you.. uhm, Mr. Castle?”

He chuckled, barely. “Frank.”

You nodded, grateful as he freed your hand and left the cuffs dangling. “Thank you, Frank.”

“Over there,” Frank turned his head and pointed to the middle of the roof, where a small maintenance structure stood. It had a sloping roof that could provide more coverage. “Go. You’ll be covered at least.”

Frank got to his feet and offered you his hand. Once you were standing, he shrugged off his own heavy coat and handed it to you. 

“Frank,” you clutched the coat and met his gaze, eyes blurring from the rain. “Can you just.. make sure my dog is okay? Hercules? He’s a lover, not a fighter. But he’s all I have and- and..”

Frank gave you a curt nod. “Go.” He motioned back to the small shed and you nodded too. 

You had no idea why Frank was helping you. But you decided it had to be a good sign, right?

---

Steve had no idea what he was walking into. He had done this before – going in blind to certain situations was the nature of his entire job. It wasn’t always possible to anticipate who he would run into, if the person he trusted would deliver, if weapons were involved. But given his state of mind and the all-consuming worry he had about your wellbeing; he didn’t really care what he was faced with.

He just needed to figure out where you were and ensure you were safe. 

The location that had been sent to Bucky was outside of Brooklyn, just barely. Along an industrial neighbourhood, where plenty of abandoned factories and distribution centers lived, the coordinates lead them to a nondescript building. 

Steve and Bucky climbed out of the car, strapped with more than enough guns and ammunition to fight their way through whatever and whoever they were about to face. As they approached, Sam jogged into view, too.

“Thor couldn’t find Walker anywhere,” Sam provided as an update once they were waiting outside. “But Peter’s little tech friend managed to track a location for some recent postings to this general area..”

“Sounds like a likely place to look,” Bucky concluded, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Steve.

Steve took in a deep breath, eyebrows narrowed as he gazed at the doors ahead of him. Raising his hands, he tugged at the collar of his coat and smoothed it out before nodding. He was ready to deal with this.

“If she’s anywhere in here, her safety is priority, you understand?” Steve glanced from Bucky back to Sam, waiting for their own nod of understanding. “If anyone put her in danger, they’re going to pay. But not at her expense.”

Bucky pressed his knuckles into his metal palm, a coy smirk raising on his lips. “Here’s hoping I get to fuck up Walker’s face again.”

Sam took the lead and yanked the dilapidated entry door open, busting open the lock mechanism with little effort. The main level they entered on was mainly being used for vehicle parking and what looked like some storage. A staircase led up to the next level.

Steve carried on - striding to the top of the staircase and heading through the doors. The entire building was in bad shape but this wasn’t their first rodeo.

Someone was hiding out somewhere. And when he found them, it wasn’t going to be pretty. 

“Sam - call everyone to be standby, including Thor and his brother. Get Barton to scope out next door, too. Lots of windows for coverage, the rooftop. Remind him about the Bullseye protocol.” Steve ran a hand through his hair then glanced to his right, motioning to the far door with Bucky. “You’re with me.”

In a few long strides, Steve reached the door and waited. Then, he raised a hand and knocked against it. Bucky stood behind his left shoulder. 

Someone on the other side of the door was yelling, then eventually they heard heavy stomping as someone approached. When the door opened, Steve didn’t hesitate - he leaped forward and reached for the collar of whoever it was. 

Steve growled. Grant Ward.

“Oh Jesus fucking–” Ward yelped out, trying to pull away from Steve’s grasp as Steve backed him into the room. “Take it fucking easy, Rogers. What the fuck are you–”

“Where is she?” Steve’s voice boomed, holding Ward in his grip as he glanced around the room. It was a fairly sparse leftover office, but sitting at the end of the large boardroom table was Billy Russo, Frank Castle and Brock Rumlow himself. A few other nameless thugs waited behind them, guns at the ready. “Where IS SHE?”

Steve threw Ward to the ground, reaching for his gun as the men at the table stood up and drew their own weapons, too. Bucky followed in behind Steve and kicked Ward down when he tried to get back on his feet.

“Stay down,” Bucky said to Ward. 

Rumlow moved from his spot slowly, waving his gun around and placing it down on the table as he walked towards Steve. “Rogers.”

Steve didn’t respond, darting his eyes from Rumlow back to Russo and Castle at the table. Russo looked away, suddenly preoccupied with anything else but Steve. Castle, though, also put his gun away.

“Rumlow.” Steve growled out your name this time. “Where. Is. She?”

Brock smirked. “Who? Oh.. yes. Sure. We just met. As far as I know, you two aren’t together anymore. What’s the concern?”

“If you fucking touched her-” Steve raised his hand again, gun pointing directly at Rumlow as they stood apart. “Tell me where she is.”

“Me and Russo have been talking. I think the three of us could be working together better. If you haven’t been picking off my dealers one by one, the pot could be a lot sweeter.”

“You and your drugs aren’t worthy of Brooklyn.” Steve stepped forward. “Tell me.”

“You know, I didn’t want us to meet like this.” Rumlow brought his hands up, in a faux act of surrender then slowly moved one of them forward to encourage Steve to put his weapon down. “In fact, I went through a lot of trouble to keep your pretty face away from here.”

“Not much trouble, it seems. And it sounds like you have a mole,” Steve shot back, sparing a quick glance back around the room. Russo looked away again but Steve met Castle’s eyes for a beat, then turned back to Rumlow. “Loyalty is rare around these parts.”

“Speaking of loyalty - your girl.” Rumlow stepped back and let out a long breath.

Steve matched him and stepped forward, raising his gun up once more. “If you laid one fucking hand on her–”

“I’ll tell you where she is after we chat, alright? I need a promise from you - to share the territory.”

Steve huffed, lips pursed as he scanned Rumlow’s face. “Tell me where she is.” Steve could hear Bucky shuffling behind him, metal fist clenched, growing just as impatient as Steve was. 

“Nah.” Rumlow shrugged, glancing around the room. “If you won’t negotiate, my lips are sealed. I still need her, gotta clear something up with the cops. Then, I don’t know. I guess she’s nice enough on the eyes, bit thicker than what I usually go for but maybe I’ll get her to warm my bed for a–”

Steve wasn’t an idiot. Rumlow was baiting him. And god fucking damnit it worked. Steve surged ahead, letting out another growl of rage as he attacked Rumlow with his fists.

On the other side of the room, Ward slid over to kick against Bucky’s knee - angering Bucky all the same. Sam rushed in to join them at the first sound of chaos. It wasn’t quite contained and really, it didn’t come as a surprise that everyone in the room was more than prepared for a fight. Rumlow’s extra lackeys seemed more than charged enough for the action. Bucky easily took care of Ward on his own, as Sam darted between helping Steve with Rumlow and the others as Russo tried to keep his distance. 

“Where is she?” Steve had Rumlow on the ground, pummeling his fists into Rumlow’s jaw. He didn’t get a response, as the sound of gunshots sounded out, ending with shards of glass flying across the floor. In a brief moment of hesitation after, Steve took in the rest of the room. 

Russo had slipped out. Castle too. 

“Sam!” Steve stood quickly, keeping his foot against Rumlow’s neck. 

Sam hurried over and tagged in as Steve rushed through the door to follow where the other two had gone. Running towards the staircase, he looked upwards and could hear the distinct sound of hurrying feet and the slamming of a metal door.

He bounded up the stairs towards the roof.

---

The rain continued to fall, although it had at least slowed down to a cool drizzle. It didn’t mean much since you were already soaking wet, though the coat from Castle had helped. It hadn’t really fit you but the extra layer kept you marginally more comfortable, despite the fatigue and hunger setting in. Was anyone else going to check on you? Would Castle come back to help?

Did.. did Steve know what was going on? Although - how would he even find out? Fuck, you kept going over everything again and again and again. The steps you took today, the conversation you had with Sarah a few weeks ago, Steve’s last words to you at your apartment…

You wish things had gone differently. Maybe in a different life or timeline, it might have all worked out.

Gunshots.

You could hear gunshots from somewhere nearby. Downstairs in the building, maybe. Truthfully, at least up on the roof, you were away from the reality of this situation - that these people had guns and clearly weren’t afraid to use them. Up there, in the rain, you could ignore all of that.

But no, here was the glaring reminder. A few more shots sounded out then it seemed to stop. You tried to keep ignoring it, laying your back flat against the wall of the structure until you heard the door open again. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look until you heard someone barking out your name. This time the voice belonged to Russo.

A set of footsteps tracked further onto the roof, but you held your safe position. Russo finally appeared ahead of you, a scowl etched on his face. “I thought Ward tied you up. Whatever, let’s go.” He grabbed your closest wrist, urging you away from your hiding space. You tried to yank yourself away.

“Please, I don’t want to-”

“Bill - come on, can’t we just drop all this?” Frank came into your eyeline next, looking you over quickly then back towards the door. “Rogers isn’t dumb, he’ll follow us up here anyway.”

Your heart jumped at Steve’s name. He was here, he was going to get you away from this.

Russo’s grip tightened on your wrist, though he turned to look at Frank. “The plan remains the same - we need her to talk to Hammond so Rogers can land some jail time. It’s the only way we can get ahead.”

Frank let out a noncommittal sigh. “Rumlow is a fuckin’ idiot. You don’t think his plan is to screw us over later too?”

“I don’t give a shit about that right now,” Russo growled, looking back towards you. “Let’s go.”

Frank hesitated again, but didn’t argue any further. You pleaded again as they took you to the far side of the roof, where the emergency fire escape stairs were. Russo let you go momentarily as he stalked over, peering down towards the stairs. 

“They should hold up, I hope” he said with a shrug, motioning his head for you to go. “Ladies first.”

You shook your head, taking a step back and glancing towards the door instead. “No, I..” You turned on your heel.

A gunshot sounded out behind you, loud and piercing. You screamed, eyes wide as you turned back. Russo was scowling again, holding his gun high as he shot it upwards into the sky. He lowered it slowly, pointing it at you directly instead. If that wasn’t enough of a warning. “Down you go. Now.” 

You glanced at Frank, who remained completely stoic as he looked between you and Russo. 

Suddenly, the door flew open again. You all turned to look.

A wave of relief flooded through you - it was Steve. He called your name as he walked towards you, never breaking his eye contact with you. In an instant, all your worries and doubts and everything seemed to shatter as he looked at you with such gentleness and grace.

Russo let out a hard laugh, waving his gun for a brief moment before aiming it back at you. “No time for your cute reunion. Let us walk away, Rogers.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve didn’t even bother replying to Russo, though he did stop in his tracks when he realized Russo had a gun pointed at you. But, Steve carried on, repeating your name. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, jaw shaking as you nodded. 

Steve softened, for a fraction of a second. You knew he could tell you weren’t being honest. But what were you supposed to do? You were a hostage, soaking wet on a roof, with a gun pointed in your direction - no, you were not okay.

You watched as Steve transformed again, soft eyes replaced by hard lines, a tight jaw. He finally broke your gaze and turned his attention to Russo and Castle. “Let her go and we’ll all walk away from this unscathed.”

A loud laugh escaped Russo. “Right. I don’t think so. We’re walking away from this with the leverage we need.”

You watched as Steve took in a deep breath, then reluctantly put his hands up. “What do you want, Russo? Money, territory, names? What? I’ll give you whatever you want - just put your gun down and let her go.”

“You think I’m an idiot?” Russo shook his head. “No, I’m not playing this game.”

“This isn’t a fucking game,” Steve continued, reaching his hand slowly for his gun. He raised it up then just as quickly tossed it behind himself. “Please, Bill. Just leave her out of this.” 

“Billy..” Frank finally spoke up too. “Let’s call it, okay? Sounds like Rogers is willing to talk and–”

“No.” Russo took a step closer to you, gun firm in hand. “No, we’re going to–”

Before you realized what was happening, you weren’t even standing on your own two feet anymore. A flurry of noises rang out around you - screaming, gunshots, shouting. Someone had wrapped their arms around you – you fell towards the ground – you landed on.. Steve. It was Steve.

He had run towards you in the action, caging you in his arms as you both landed on the rooftop together. Safe. Alive. Steve shielded you with his own body from the noise and chaos happening around you. You didn’t know who had been shooting who, if anyone escaped or made it down the fire escape. All you knew is that you were safe, in Steve’s arms.

Steve was whispering out your name, again and again, like some sort of prayer on his lips. His words were wrapped in apologies, in cries for your safety, in hushed words that begged for reassurance. As everything else seemed to quiet down, he gently pushed himself up to peer down at you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so–”

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m okay.. I’m..c-cold.” 

He shook his head and quickly shifted again, standing up and helping you back to your feet, too. He shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over you. Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it down the side of your face, wiping away stray droplets of water with his thumb. His palm was warm against your cheek, you could feel his whole heart pulsing as he held you. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m–”

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice broke you both from the spell. Steve reluctantly looked away from you, pivoting slightly as he looked towards Bucky running in their direction. Across the roof, both Frank and Russo were on their knees, hands wrapped behind their backs.  A makeshift bandage was wrapped around one of Russo’s biceps.

Wait, had someone shot him? It couldn’t have been Steve, he had put his gun down. Would Frank have..

Bucky leaned in slightly and mumbled into Steve’s ear, then they both looked across the roof towards the adjacent building. Bucky waved in that direction and Steve nodded, then they both turned back to you.

Before Steve could say anything else, you reached for his shirt. “Steve - you..we need to find Hercules. They said.. They..” You closed your eyes tight, head shaking as you tried to form your words. “They were going to take him somewhere to fight. I don’t know if..”

Bucky stood up tall again. He said your name firm, like a promise. “I’ll find him.”

As Bucky left, Steve wrapped his arms around you again - tighter this time. With one hand, he secured your back and the other cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t say anything and you couldn’t find any words either. 

---

You were back at Steve’s apartment. You thought you’d never see those big windows overlooking Brooklyn ever again and yet, there you were. Safe.

Safe and warm, following a long shower in Steve’s guest bathroom. Stripping away your damp clothes and stealing away into the stream for longer than probably necessary had been a nice escape. Especially given that Steve had driven you back to his place in silence - though it wasn’t as awkward as before. It just felt like maybe there were things you both needed to say but couldn’t bring yourself to mention yet.

Before you had left the building earlier, Steve hadn’t let you leave his sight. Well, except for about ten minutes where Bucky hovered over you instead.

Steve brought you inside, back downstairs to that same boardroom and office space. But this time, you weren’t faced with bad guys with guns. Well, the bad guys remained but the guns were gone.

All four of them were bound and seated at a chair. Ward’s head was lolled to the side, Brock had a bloody face, Russo and Castle were mostly left without much damage. But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to last.

Steve squeezed your hand, gently turning you away from looking at them. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, tipping your chin up with his thumb. “Can you tell me what happened? What they did?”

You swallowed hard, eyes wide for a moment as you considered his question. What was he going to do?

“Don’t overthink it, okay? Just tell me what you think I should know.”

You let out a breath then recounted everything. Ward ambushing you on the sidewalk, Brock threatening you, Russo joining in…

“But Frank he..” You finally spared a glance over your shoulder. Frank sat up straight in his chair, resigned to whatever fate awaited him. “He helped me. Tried to protect me, gave me his coat..”

Steve nodded, looking in Frank’s direction the same way. Steve called for Sam, then gave him another nod and Sam went to untie Frank from his chair. 

It was only a few moments later that Bucky showed up with Hercules, who - thank god - looked unharmed, if a little worked up. You couldn’t help but start to cry as you broke away from Steve and rushed to your son. 

But, It wasn’t lost on you how quickly Bucky led you away from the room with your dog. Or how the door shut behind you, leaving Steve and Sam in there with the rest of the men, the overlapping sounds and sounds of distress…

When you finally decided you had wasted enough water and regained all the proper feeling in your body, you shut off the water and let out a long sigh. Outside on the counter, folded neatly beside your warm towel, was some clothes you had left at Steve’s ages ago. Soft and clean layers to keep your temperature steady as you got ready for bed.

You supposed it was a choice you made - agreeing to go home with Steve instead of back to your own apartment. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep there - not tonight. And you knew Steve would insist on staying and keeping guard outside your door anyway. So it made more sense this way.

After you changed, you found Hercules waiting for you in the hallway. You could hear Steve in the living room, speaking quite passionately on his end of a phone call.

“Jim, this is the only deal I’m making. Proof of your dirty cop aside, I’m handing you Rumlow alive on a silver platter, even though I should have let him bleed out. So you have to do this for me. I don’t give a fuck about protocol..” There was a heavy pause. “Every instance of her name on any police report - gone. I don’t want her attached to any of it, do you understand? No trace of her. I don’t care - redact it or burn it. Get that done and I’ll deliver Rumlow to you in the morning. Understood?” 

You knew you probably shouldn’t be listening, but it was your name he was mentioning.

“As for Russo, I’m dealing with that myself. But keep him on your radar. If you need another arrest to clench your win, you can have him once I’m done.”

You quietly slipped into the guest bedroom once you realized his call had ended. Once Hercules followed you in, you shut the door. Fuck. What happened now? Maybe you and Steve needed to talk about all of this - you definitely needed to talk about it.

You heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards the bedrooms and Steve stopped outside your door. You held your breath, wondering if he would say your name or knock. But - nothing. His phone buzzed again and he disappeared into his bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the door. 

---

Mentally, Steve was exhausted.

Physically, his energy peaked in the midst of the action and hadn’t seemed to peter off yet. 

You were safe, you were safe, you were safe.

Why couldn’t he calm down? You were one wall away, falling asleep. Safe. He got to you before anything critical happened. Christ, nothing should have happened in the first place.

Following his long frustrating phone call with Rhodes, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to say everything that was weighing down his heart - but your door was closed and he couldn’t even find it in himself to knock.

You were probably even angrier with him than before - given that this was all his fault. But that was fine with him. He could deal with your anger if that meant you had any feelings towards him left. Anger counted.

He rinsed off in the shower then pulled on a pair of pajama pants before falling into bed, not that he was tired. His brain was wired and maybe an allnighter was in his future. 

Steve sent off a few last messages to Bucky and Sam, then discarded his phone on the nightstand. He leaned back against the headboard and–

There was a knock at his bedroom door. You were knocking. He swung his legs off the bed and hurried to open the door, just as you were about to push it open yourself.

“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.

You shrugged, drawing in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide. You just nodded again, crawling in and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.

---

CHAPTER 07 - CHAPTER 09

[bullet-prooflove]

The Weight of Water: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@kiwiwatermelonsuger@sadgenderfluidmaniac@junghwansy2k

Summer School Series:

Part One: Summer School - Daniel's excited to meet Anthony's new art teacher.

Part Two: Dirt - Daniel learns more about you and your business.

Over the course of the summer Daniel starts to learn more about you, it’s snippets of conversation in between picking up Anthony and dropping him off but he enjoys the time you spend together. The glimpses of you he gets to see.

It’s through one of those conversations that he learns you surf every morning. You come into the studio with wet hair, the scent of the ocean clinging to your skin and he can’t help but ask what you’ve been up to.

“You should come with me one morning.” You say as you carefully set out the tools on your desk. Anthony is already at his workspace, combing through the box of cogs, selecting the different sizes he’ll need for his next project. He’s become one of your most diligent students over the summer. Excited to be there, the last to leave, always peppering you with questions. “Being on the water, its therapeutic. Good for the soul.”

“I haven’t done anything like that since Sam was a kid.” Daniel tells you, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “We gave it up when she got into volleyball. I used to really enjoy it.”

“My friend owns a surf shop near the place I go, she’ll let you borrow a surf board and wet suit if I ask nicely. She lets me store my board there.” You say as you turn to face him, your voice lowering so Anthony doesn’t overhear. “Besides it might be good for you to take a beat,  do something for yourself.”

Daniel crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back against your desk with a sigh. He can’t remember the last time he did something that didn’t involve the kids, the dealership or the dojo. He loves all three but there’s a responsibility that comes with them, he always has to be present and focused. There’s never time to just take a breath.

“Does it show?” He askes quietly, his gaze coming to rest on Anthony as he sorts through his equipment.

“You have this little furrow right here.” You say, your fingertip rubbing lightly over the space between his eyes. “I’m scared it’s going to become permanent.”

The edges of his mouth turn up into a small smile as he captures your hand in his. His thumb caresses your palm as he looks down at it.

“The kids are at Amanda’s tonight, I can come with you tomorrow morning if you’re up for the company.” He says, looking down at your linked fingers.

“I am.” You tell him, squeezing his hand lightly. “I’ll text you the time and place.”

***

Daniel doesn’t remember the last time he was at the beach, the house he used to live in with Amanda had a pool so they never ventured outside of the neighbourhood unless it was to the country club. He hasn’t been back there since the divorce because those people were always more Amanda’s speed than his.

It’s only with hindsight that he sees how much his marriage changed him. Her aspirations became his, together they build an empire, a successful life for their kids. He doesn’t know when they fell out of love, only that he woke up one morning and realised he that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with the woman sleeping next to him about anything other than the kids. They’d tried dating after that and discovered it was the only thing they had in common.

So they’d made the decision to uncouple, divide everything in half and coparent the kids. Amanda still lives in that house in Encino Hills, they’d both thought it was better for the kids that they have that consistency. Daniel’s moved to a smaller house a couple of blocks away, with a reflecting pool and grass that he likes to feel under his feet first thing in the morning.

That’s what he thinks about when he’s out on the water with you that morning, the changes in his life, how he’s happier now than he’s ever been. There’s no roles, no assumptions, no responsibilities out here, he’s just himself in its rawest form and he finds that liberating. He watches you as he sits on his surfboard and lets the waves lap against him. You’re a natural in the water, catching waves as if you’re attuned to the whims of the sea, laughing when you bail. There’s an authenticity in you that calls to him, you never try to be anything other than yourself and he can’t describe how attractive he finds that.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” He tells you in the aftermath. The two of you are standing at the back of your Jeep, wetsuits unzipped and rolled down to the waist. He’s dabbing himself off with towel while you’re drinking from a bottle of water.

It does something to him seeing you in that sports bikini, the way it clings to your form, covering your assets. It has a skull and a couple of roses on the front in a similar style to those that are inked into your upper arms. He had no idea you had tattoos until today, he wants to chase his fingers over them, ask you what they mean but he holds himself back, he always does.

“We’ll have to do it again sometime.” You tell him as you pick up your towel to dry off your hair.

“I’m free tomorrow.” He tells you with a boyish grin.

It becomes a standing thing between the two of you then. On mornings he doesn’t have the kids he’s with you at the beach, it’s usually followed by coffee and breakfast at the café on the corner. His days feel happier, his life full. He talks about the books he’s reading, the podcasts he’s listening too, the lessons he’s trying to instil in the kids, both his own and the ones he teaches at his dojo.

This, he realises is what he was missing from his relationship with Amanda, the sense of connection, the individuality. With you he’s his own person, an entity that exists outside of all the roles he plays. He doesn’t disappear, the way he did in his marriage. He thinks about asking you out, telling you he wants more but there never seems to be the right moment.

The end of summer art show, he promises himself. That’s when I’ll do it.

Of course, he’s Daniel LaRusso and his life…

It never works out the way he planned.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[stellar-constellations]

"In you, my heart resides"

Andrew Graves x Fem! Reader

Wordcount: 2,600+ words

Warnings: Kisses (?). A little angsty, but a happy ending.

Synopsis: Andrew's had feelings for you for years now. Now that you're moving away, he wants to confess his feelings before you're gone forever.

        Andrew Graves was always top of the class, you’ve known that ever since elementary. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t of even known who he was if it wasn’t for who his sister was. 

        You’ve always managed to look right past Andrew. He was quiet and focused on his studies instead of talking with others during class. You wouldn’t know who he was if it wasn’t for his teachers' constant praise of his grades throughout the years (and the rumors of Ashley and him). 

        But that’s all Andrew was: a background character in your modern day life. Whether you had friends or not, you kept to yourself too. Maybe that’s why you never bothered approaching him. Approaching him would’ve broke that repetitive routine you had, and you didn’t want that. You were content on walking where others run, going with the flow until you reach the river bank. 

        As life has it for you, Andrew just kept showing up in the background. Every year he’d be in your classes. You’d see him walking to school a few blocks down from you. You’d see him in class, a blank expression that made you wonder if he studied hard at home or if he was just naturally gifted. You’d see him walking home from school. He just seemed to pop into your everyday life.

        As luck would have you, you’re even seated in front of him this school year. You’re not sure if the seating chart is permanent, but you don’t find yourself complaining about it. 

        To nobody’s surprise—especially yours—Andrew is praised yet again on his latest test scores. You can’t help but turn your head to see your classmate’s reaction, but he doesn’t seem too celebratory or surprised; sporting a neutral expression as he reviewed the teachers written praises. 

        It almost frustrated you how nonchalant he was. Maybe it was because you were an overachiever, or maybe you just despised the competition, but you just had to know.

        “Hey. Andrew, right?” you questioned, turning yourself to look at him.

        His bright electric green eyes met yours, a look teetering the line of confusion. 

        You had broke the routine. 

        “Yeah?” he acknowledged. 

        His eyes were big, portraying innocence of a child, because that’s what you both were. Children. Children who worried about grades and sleepovers and Halloween discounted candy on November 1st. 

        “Can I see your paper?” you questioned, your hand resting on his desk, already expecting him to say yes. “I just want to see your work for one of the problems—to see how it’s supposed to be done.” 

        “Oh… Sure…” he spoke, handing you the paper without hesitation. 

        You held the paper in your hands, looking over his work. It was some philosophical question for Language Arts, but he aced all the questions, even getting some extra points for creativity as he challenged the author’s logic and provided explanations why to his stance. It was impressive that a child could come up with this.

        You noted how he barely had any erased marks on his paper, just showing how smart he was. His pencil writing was smooth, and it wasn’t bad, extremely legible for a child of your age—you wondered if he practiced that too or not.

        “Hey, how do you do it?” you finally asked. 

        “Do what?” he questioned, not quite catching on.

        “How do you do all of this?” you questioned, not that it cleared the fog much.

        It was almost as if you were asking how his life was, and was it different from yours? Did his life break the routine yours had?

        “How do you excel in your academics?” you finally asked, getting to the point.        

        He had to pause and think, resting his elbows on his desk as he leaned his weight on them, moving closer to you as he mulled over the question.

        “I don’t know… I guess I just read a lot of Zeno of Citium.” He smiled.

        Is it bad you know what he was talking about?

        “Founder of Stoicism.” You spoke, returning his smile. “Everything around us is a web of cause and effect… ‘Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.’ It’s pretty neat stuff.” 

        “You know him?” he questioned, surprised.

        “Yeah. His teachings… they really know how to get to you.” You chuckled. “But, that doesn’t explain how you excel in math, and history, and science, and everything really.” 

        “I just listen a lot, I guess…” he shrugged. 

        “Well, you must be pretty observant then.” You hummed, handing him back his paper. 

        “Thanks… (Y/N), right?” he questioned, placing his paper absentmindedly to the side, refusing to break eye contact or conversation with you. 

        “Scratch that. You are observant.” You chuckled.

        “Must be born with it or something.” He smiled. 

        “It’s a good skill to have.” You hummed. “Don’t lose that.” 

        The conversation ended before he could reply, the teacher walked to the middle of the classroom and spoke about their next topic. 

        The damage was already done; the conversation had broken the routine. Suddenly, Andrew didn’t seem much like a background character anymore—and neither did you in his life.

        You found yourself talking with him more over the years, but only as classmates. Your conversations remained strictly for schooling and academies, creating a new rountine for the two of you. 

        Why routines? Well, everything had rhythm. The trees danced with the wind, and you danced with Andrew; an endless tango of curiosity, silently asking if you perhaps knew each other, whether in this life or another. A routine is practically a dance. You memorize the rhythm until you mindlessly follow it on muscle reflex—like a graceful ballerina would. 

        But the more you danced, the more moves and steps were added in, complicating your performance as you went on. You weren’t friends, but you weren’t classmates either. You were unknown, no official label between you two as you danced around each other, hesitant of what the other thought of the other. 

        You danced around each other, for there was no better partner but him. He seemed to know all the same moves as you, and he perfectly mingled his own into your dance routine; improving and ultimately perfecting the dance only you two can complete with each other. 

        “Nursing, huh?” Andrew spoke, leaning back in the booth.

        The tea shop was crowded today, people walking in and out during the peak of lunch hour. Andrew was never a fan of coffee, there was never a perfect blend, it was always either too sweet or too bitter. 

        But you matched all his tastes. You weren’t too sweet or too bitter. You were relaxing, simple, and even, in a sense, nostalgic. There wasn’t a tea blend that could match your perfection, but he dealt with it.

        “So you’re going away?” he questioned, though you both knew the answer.

        “Yeah.” You nodded. “I mean, it’s not like there’s any good colleges here in this city.” You chuckled, although it wasn’t funny in the slightest. 

        You were leaving him, after all this time. Who would do your special dance with him now? Who would stick to the routine you both share? 

        “Well, that sucks…” Andrew admitted with a sigh. “So, when are you leaving?” 

        “I got a flight for this weekend.” You answered. “This is probably the last time we’ll see each other…” You spoke, although the information was anything but celebratory. 

        You didn’t really expect to be leaving so quick, but the process happened so fast, and you got accepted faster than you expected, so it was practically a fact dropped on the both of you around the same tome. 

        The moment was bittersweet. Andrew should be celebrating, you’re going to further your education and climb the tree of life, each branch a new opportunity and path all for you to experience—but Andrew will be left behind on the ground. 

        “So, this is it?” he questioned, a tone of sadness in his voice, his eyes ignored yours as he decided the sticky tabletop was better to look at.

        “Hey, we’ll still see each other.” You smiled, albeit a sad one. “It’ll just be less often. But I’ll still visit.” 

        “Right…” He sighed, leaning back into the booth’s cushioning as he thought. “Can… I just see you one last time? Before you leave?”  he spoke, his tone almost pleading.

        “Sure…” You gave in. “When would you like to meet?” 

        “Tonight?” he suggested.

        “Tonight?” you repeated back, a bit perplexed. “Why tonight?” 

        “Just… please?” he sighed. 

        “Well… sure. But just as long as it’s not too late at night.” (Y/N) sighed.

        “Yeah, that works for me.” Andrew nodded. “So, I’ll see you tonight at seven? I’ll stop by.”

        “Alright.” You agreed, finishing your drink and throwing the cup in the trashcan. “I’ll see you later then. Bye, Andrew.” You waved, watching as he waved back, before you disappeared out the doors and around the corner. 

        Andrew stared at his tea sullenly, before taking a sip. The blend tasted even worse now.         .         .        

        Andrew had spent the rest of the day writing in his notebook, before tearing a paper out and restarting. Why was it so hard to write about his feelings whenever he genuinely wanted to? Maybe it was because he knew he was just going to say them anyways, so it doesn’t feel as private and secretive to where you can write to your heart’s content. It had to be perfect. 

        He looked at his phone for the third time as he stood in front of her door. He was fifteen minutes early, if you don’t count the extra minutes he’s spent overthinking in front of her home.

        Finally, he gathers the courage and just knocks on your door. The sound made him mentally cringe and consider ducking in the nearby bushes like a child playing Ding Dong Ditch. 

        It didn’t take long for you to answer the door as you were expecting his visit. You wore some casual loungewear, greeting him with a smile.

        “Hey. Come in.” You spoke, opening the door wider for him to walk through.

        “Thanks.” He smiled nervously, walking into your home as your closed the door.

        He’s seen her home many times before, so he knows the layout, yet he can’t help looking everywhere except your face. He sat down on her couch, his foot tapping against the floor nervously.

        “So, is there anything you want to do?” you questioned.

        Andrew was the one who asked to see you, so you’ll let him decide what he wants to do. Besides, he looks a bit nervous, so you’ll let him guide the conversation—maybe you’ll find out if something is wrong if you lets him talk.

        “Look, I’ll make this quick in case you want me gone…” Andrew sighed, placing his hands together nervously, before deeming the position as potentially unserious or disrespectful.

        He stood up from the couch, walking over and grabbing your hands, before bringing his gaze to your eyes.

        “(Y/N), I’ve watched you from afar throughout the years.” He started. 

        “I’ve tried for so long to distance myself from you,”

        “But without you, my heart splits into two.”

        “I wish to stand by your side without fear.”

        “Please, at least for a minute, lend me your ear.”

        He took a deep breath, gulping down an air of confidence, before letting out his nerves. 

        “I want to be the one for you, even if for a day.”

        “Because you make my heart race and my problems decay.”

        “I don’t want to hide these feelings anymore.”

        “I want to explore these feelings with you more.”        

        “You entered my life like a serendipity,”

        “And now, I just want to love you for all eternity.”

        “I’ve never seen crystals as pretty as your eyes.”

        “In you, my heart resides.”

        His hands shook as they held your own, but he kept his grip strong, confident in his actions. His eyes stayed on yours, noticing how pretty you looked even if you were in loungewear. He couldn’t help but think you were always pretty, no flaws attached; unlike him.

        “When I look at you, I see nothing but opportunity.”

        “I see a future with you,”

        “From one life to the next.”

        “I can try all I want,”

        “But my love for you can’t be expressed in words.”

        “These years of feelings I’ve had pent up, can’t simply be explained in a minute poem.”

        “Please, let me cherish you as my lover,”

        “Because without you, I can’t ever see myself with another.”

        He took another breath, his nerves feeling even worse now that he had to wait for an answer. 

        There was a moment of silence between the two—he practically felt his heart snap in half.

        “Sorry… I know it’s bad. You’d think I’d be able to write a poem since I read so much of them…” he chuckled nervously, trying to break the tension as his hands let go over yours. “I-I’ll go now, I’m so—“

        “Andrew, wait!” you exclaimed, your hands reaching out for his, holding them tighter than he had earlier, before you engulfed him in a hug. “Sorry, I was just processing the fact that you like me back.” 

        “Like me back?” he repeated, surprised, before his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close. “You’ve liked me? Like, genuinely?” 

        “Yeah, dummy!” you smiled. “And I liked your poem. It was perfect! Really, nobody has ever written a poem for me before…” 

        “No… It was pretty crappy…” he chuckled, bashful. 

        “Hey, I’m serious…” you spoke. “It was sweet, I really felt it from the heart. Even if it was bad, I still wouldn’t of minded. I mean, you even memorized it into your head to tell me!” 

        “Ah… yeah… I was pretty damn nervous…” he laughed, pulling away from your arms to pull out a piece of paper. “I practiced in the mirror all day after writing it, but I was so damn nervous I’d forget the lines that I wrote it down on a piece of paper.”

        “Really?” you smiled, accepting the paper as he handed it to you.

        It barely had any eraser marks on it, as if he had thought about what to say to you for weeks to months—perhaps years. Funny, his handwriting hadn’t changed much since elementary.

        “Can I keep this?” you questioned, looking up at him.

        “You really wanna keep that piece of scrap?” Andrew questioned, surprised.

        “Well this ‘piece of scrap’ happened to be the reason we’re together.” You chuckled. 

        “Hey, I did the talking, the paper—“ he paused, his mouth hanging open. “T-together?”

        “Yeah, we’re together now, dummy. You confessed your feelings; I confessed mine.” You smiled. “Unless, you don’t want to be together?” 

        “No, no! I do!” Andrew spoke quickly. “It’s just, literally five seconds ago I was thinking of running down the street, and now I’m here with you… dating you now…” he smiled widely, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “I can say that, right? We’re dating?” 

  ��     “Yes, we’re dating. You’re my boyfriend.” You laughed.

        “Thank God. Honestly, if you didn’t accept my feelings, I think I would’ve walked into oncoming traffic.” He let out a sigh of relief. 

        “Well, I’m glad I accepted it too…” you smiled, before said smile turned into a smirk. “So… ‘years’ you said, eh?” you smiled cheekily.

        “Shut up.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully.

        “Well, I think I owe you something since you’ve been waiting around that long.” You hummed, placing your hands on his cheeks, before leaning in and kissing his lips.

        It was a simple, short and sweet kiss, but Andrew thought he just won the lottery or at least saw heaven for those three seconds. You pulled away, before laughing at the loopy smile on his lips, his eyes saying everything for you—this man was hopelessly enamored with you.

        “Hey, you came all this way over. Do you wanna stay the night?” you offered.

        “Definitely.” Andrew agreed quickly, before pulling you back for another kiss.

        Spending more time with you? He’d be a fool to reject that. 

Ah, I really wish I had the poetic skills of Edgar Allan Poe. I'm not a good poet, though I really wish I was because I would love to do an old romance trope of royalty and a peasant and... oh, that's a interesting idea... I'll definitely be saving that for later.

Anyways, this is one short fluffy fic I've been working on. I figured Andrew needed some wholesome love in his life, (not that it was much sappiness on reader's part... but hey, the next fic definitely will!) Hopefully you guys stay around for the second fluffy fic, after that I'll go right back to writing Star Patient!

[nicomoon69]

I’ve made up so much Bernard lore in my head so I’m just going to dump it here

so post Louis Grieve in my head Bernard transferred to an all boys boarding school his junior year (someone suggested Brentwood so I’m gonna go w that). his parents sent him there as a bit of a last ditch effort to straighten him out, get up his grades and push him out of his silly habits. this also included them making him buzz off his hair since they deemed his old hair unprofessional.

all of it was a huge blow to Bernard’s already fragile mental health and self esteem so at Brentwood he was kind of a mess. he wasn’t exactly a bad student but the people around him considered him even more of an outsider than he was before at Louis Grieve.

eventually Bernard did find himself with a small group of friends (might further develop them as ocs??) who were much like him outsiders. one of said friends also being the first time he fooled around with a guy, which led to several more though none of it was ever serious.

there was lots of denial at first but by the time his time at Brentwood ended Bernard had accepted himself as queer.

he applied for a few colleges, some outside of Gotham but he ended up settling for GU bc part of his couldnt handle leaving his city behind. he chose a double major because he thought that would make his parents most proud and bc biology and physics were the only subjects he enjoyed.

despite everything seemingly going well for Bernard he felt an emptiness that nothing could fix, that is until he found the Children of Dionysus. despite knowing the risks of joining a cult he did. he was in the cult for roughly eight months before he got kidnapped to get sacrificed.

that was a rough version of what happened in my head. I have some more details that I couldn’t fit smoothly into that word vomit so here’s some more

Bernard came out to his parents his first semester, which they took pretty badly and led him to getting kicked out and having to couch surf for a bit before landing on the apartment he was living in during TD:R.

to keep himself afloat with no support from his parents Bernard worked two jobs, one at a diner around the corner of his apartment and the other at a coffee shop closer to GU.

at Brentwood Bernard did a lot of experimental stuff with his appearance ranging from spiking his hair after it had grown out a bit to getting his ears pierced multiple times. a tongue piercing came along somewhere in his time at the cult and Bernard genuinely doesn’t remember getting it.

during junior and senior year Bernard joined the basketball team. he was surprisingly good considering he had never showed any interest in the sport and wasn’t particularly athletic before then. basketball somehow also led him to training himself in martial arts.

since I do hc the Children of Dionysus to have some more Dionysian practices I think Bernard developed both a distaste for wine and eating raw meat (omophagia).

Bernard has been refusing to get drastic hair cuts after the buzz cut and is unlikely to get one any time soon. he’s been taking kitchen scissors to his hair and freestyling it if he feels it needs more shape.

though he’s been out for a while Bernard hasn’t actually dated anyone long term before Tim. most people he’s been with were flings or were blocked after a few dates.

the way Bernard got into contact with the cult is through one of his high school classmates, who he’d seen talk about the ways that joining it had improved their life and how they were much more enlightened. he due to his circumstances was an easy victim after his initial skepticism

there’s just a lot of permanent scarring due to the cult, but Bernard doesn’t bother covering them up with make up or clothes. at least not post getting rescued.

Bernard actually goes to therapy after the cult and was also diagnosed with autism (let me project a teeny bit). it helped him make more sense of his life and gave him more direction.

his cooking passion came from his early childhood, being dimmed out in middle school and only returning after high school. he mostly enjoys writing his own recipes and experimenting with taste. there was ofc the added challenge of budget, but it was one of the few things that made him happy.

his conspiracy theorist side mostly calmed down until he was thrust back into it when he started dating Tim. this was due to odd behavior from Tim and until Bernard found out he was RR (which really didn’t take that long) he was balls deep on conspiracy blogs and threads. he didn’t really quite after putting the RR pieces together though, bc he enjoyed being able to subtly help Tim with his cases.

due to the two jobs and double major previously mentioned Bernard has a terrible sleeping schedule. he regularly stays up past three only to have a morning shift that starts at seven.

gonna quite rambling for now lol, might edit this post to add more in the morning but I’m sick of typing. sorry if it’s a lot, I just think abt him a lot……. yea..

[talonbite4596]

I have some more !!!

I like the idea of irken blood being a pink/orange color and also bioluminescent, no reason other than its funky to draw I like it

I'll add some headcanons or something under the cut so !! Yay i guess !!

Don't tag my art as ship stuff or be blocked, thanks 💖

Headcanon time!! These have little to no reason to exist other than "its fun why not" and "I said so"

- I already mentioned the irken blood thing but it's one of my favorite little things

- irkens have tapetum lucidum and it can show thru in their disguises (mostly zims) so it can be a good way to clock them if needed

- irken antenna function a lot like dog ears, which is more so Canon than a headcanon, but still. Like, example, they're pinned back when angry, down when sad, up when curious etc etc. It's a fun little idea

I'd like to delve into some more stuff but a lot of it is au stuff and I don't wanna blabber about that yet !! But I will add tiny little ones maybe

- irken paks, as well as keeping them alive, also "programs" each irken to be the best invader they can be. It all depends on what they'd NEED to be successful. For some, it's power and strength, and for others it's wit and smarts. So the pak, basically shifts their identity to fit the task they need to accomplish.

- paks also prevent irkens from being themselves, their personality is locked behind a barrier basically. They ARE their own people deep down, they are just physically unable to show it due to the pak preventing it

- however an irken CAN be themselves, but only for a while. They'd need to take the pak off and permanently make sure it cannot go back on, which would free them. It would also kill them!! So they can live a long life being nothing but a slave, or live as themselves for mere minutes.

That's all I'll get into for now but if u want more lmk ✨️ I like blabbering about random stuffs

Another reminder to NOT tag my stuff as ship ✨️🥰

[sanctus-ingenium]

How old are the novices when they start working on the mezian beasts as smith/knight apprentices?

i broke out the ol powerpoint just for you (zoom in to read)

initiates come from many sources both within and outside the church - from babies randomly dumped on the doorstep of a cathedral to willing donations from the laity. It is a tradition that the first non-inheriting child in a family will be given to the church, it's a huge honour for the parents. but in circumstances where the children are taken without the parents' consent (this happens quite often), the kids are transported to different cities or cathedrals without the parents' knowledge.

all initiates are given new names by the church (forenames in alphabetical order paired with a surname indicating where they first trained) and all efforts are made to eliminate any lingering familial bonds. the mandatory masking helps with this.

i wrote way more than i intended because it was something i needed to write up anyway for my own reference and to refresh my knowledge lol enjoy.

The initiates are given a normal religious education and then when they are considered old enough to do simple supervised work (around 8) their capabilities are tested to determine their life path. Here i have only illustrated two paths - smith and knight - but they can also become scribes, priests, cleaners, cooks, whatever the church may need. needless to say, the knight's path is the most selective, as ultimately there is only one knight at a time, and most of the knight novices will fail to progress.

smith acolytes aren't assigned to any one beast or master, and do basic grunt work - a lot of scrubbing armour and cleaning mechanisms - until they become junior novices at age 12, where they start to be trained to handle more responsibilities. Junior novices are assigned to holy beasts based on need (the beast's master smiths will let the church know when they need extra hands on deck). There's no real age limit to this - a novice is a novice until they become a journeyman, but at a certain stage a junior novice is expected to formally ask a master or journeyman to train them one on one (aka to become an novice apprentice). Whether or not the senior smith accepts is entirely up to them and often depends on their own workload, if they can take on an additional apprentices, etc. They often play favourites and if a novice shows a lot of talent, there could even be competition to see who claims him first as an apprentice.

Once you become an apprentice you get an intensive high quality training that lasts a couple of years until you can be considered a journeyman, someone who can be trusted to independently conduct all tasks required of his profession to a high level of skill. on this chart i only have the primary and secondary route mapped out for mercury smiths but it's the same for all smith disciplines - primary smiths are more prestigious as they work directly on holy beasts, but in truth secondary smiths, who work on commercial engines and designs, are the real moneymakers in the church.

a master is considered a master when they produce a new, innovative design which showcases their mastery of their art. a new efficient engine, a piece of elaborate metalwork, or a new application of dragonsblood - it has to impress a board of established masters enough that the smith is awarded the master rank. masters need to show proof of new innovations on a regular basis and are expected to have at least one apprentice at a time. Mercury Luca, who is in his 30s at the start of the story (after the prologue), earned his master title by designing Leun's current heart block (replacing the original heart design, which was a copy of Pantera's heart built by the late Mercury Rodrigo, Leun's original enginesmith. the heart killed him).

Each holy beast has a master mars and mercury smith permanently assigned to him, and in stables where multiple beasts are maintained, seniority will go to the master smiths of the highest ranked holy beasts (therefore, Mercury Luca, Leun's master enginesmith, is the highest ranked in the stables despite being younger and technically less experienced than the other masters). Saturn alchemists primarily deal with the matters of dragonsblood fuel and dialogue tattoos so have slightly different rankings - First Master Saturn alchemists work on holy beast fuel management, while Second Master Saturn alchemists work apart from the beasts by providing dialogue tattoos to smiths.

Ultimately, all smith apprentices will end up working at their field even if they are eternal novices who never earn enough goodwill to get apprenticed. It's not the same for knights. There can be only one at a time and a knight has no set expiration date - they might die in battle tomorrow, they might serve for thirty years straight. An apprentice knight is expected to be able to replace their master at a moment's notice, mid-battle if they have to, so are always on standby.

The novices selected from the initiates work alongside smith novices and believe that they are no different - i.e, although they have passed the requisite tests to become knights, they are not informed of this. The knight path is highly secretive and until the point of no return, when they are selected for apprenticeship, novices are kept in the dark about their potential futures.

The knight is the only one who gets to select apprentices and is often incredibly choosy. The novices are taken to be interviewed by the knight. If the knight rejects every novice during that recruitment cycle, the rejected novices can join another apprentice route, provided they passed the initial prerequisites at initiate stage. If not, they might be turfed off to go be cleaners or scribes or whatever. On becoming apprentices, the novices get their dialogue tattoos, and from then on are expected to live apart from the rest of the apprentices, in the knights' quarters. The secrets of their tattoos are heavily guarded and from this moment on, any dishonourable dropouts have to be executed to protect knight secrets from spreading even to other members of the church. Apprentices learn on the job, and as they grow older there's a hierarchy among them where the eldest is next in line to replace the knight, and so on. They typically ride in the throne room with the knight, depending on space available. most knights have about six apprentices. Because of this setup, someone as young as 12 might suddenly find themselves a knight in charge of a holy beast.

The requirements for knights are quite stringent. At the start of the story there is a recruitment crisis brewing where Leun is concerned, as Sir Heaven rejects every single novice presented to him and has no apprentices whatsoever, operating the throne room alone aside from a visual interpreter. Although Sir Heaven is visually impaired, that is not actually considered a disqualifier because knights fight blind anyway. injuries to the limbs that leave them permanently affected are disqualifying. Because any apprentice at this stage is considered to be chosen by god, they are given a merciful death. You need two working arms to operate a holy beast.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Steve takes Bucky’s ashes after Infinity War and mixes it with soil from Wakanda and soil from Brooklyn. He puts it in the prettiest urn he can find, one he’s sure his baby would adore, and puts it on Bucky’s side of the bed. He looks at it when he’s having trouble going to bed, thinking about how Bucky would hold him tight and kiss his cheek, whispering little “I love you, Stevie.”s in his ear. He places a fresh boquet next to it every week, along with Bucky’s and wedding ring.

When the panic attacks come, he usually crashes next to it, and Steve can practically feel how Bucky would wrap his arms around him, guiding him through deep breaths, and some days he swears up and down that he can feel. Bucky’s forehead kisses and the way he gently calms him down.

But at the end of the day, Steve aches at the empty space on the couch, the lack of smells in the kitchen, and the absence of his best guy’s laugh. He sits in Central Park and tries so hard to cry as quiet as possible.

Me, upon reading this with my own two eyes:

Jesus Christ

I will fucking sob.

Okay, okay, my first thought when I was no longer so vitally fucking shattered by this misery, lmao, was that what if... Steve certainly has an urn for Bucky as soon as possible, right? Steve can't bear to have him in anything that isn't beautiful and meaningful for the love of his life--his lives, plural, with how much life they've lived and how much of them they've lived together. However, I could see some of the therapy that Steve does over those five years after the blip being art therapy.

Much like when he was first thawed from the ice, he finds it hard to create--his muse is gone--but there's a loophole to his art block. And the loophole is having a goal, a thing to create in particular. Something for his love.

An urn.

I just have this image inherently in my head of Steve working his ass off, just to have something to do--keeping himself busy to keep him tied to Earth. So, he tirelessly slaves away at developing his skills with pottery. All in all, for the purpose of making Bucky's final resting place with his own two hands so he can, in a way, hold him forever.

Is there anything more permanent than fired clay, after all? In thousands, thousands of years, when whoever is left digs up their apartment, they'll find the fragments of Bucky's urn mixed with the soil, mixed with Bucky, and still held tenderly by Steve's creation for him.

For him.

To have and to hold him.

I, just, yeah. Steve making Bucky's urn himself. Oof.

"When the panic attacks come, he usually crashes next to it, and Steve can practically feel how Bucky would wrap his arms around him, guiding him through deep breaths, and some days he swears up and down that he can feel. Bucky’s forehead kisses and the way he gently calms him down."

Fucking CHRIST.

That is brutal.

"He sits in Central Park and tries so hard to cry as quiet as possible."

Can you imagine being a bystander to that? Because that's all I'm picturing. Just as a regular civilian, trying to move through your own grief, wandering in Central Park, and coming across Captain America as he sobs so hard his big, broad shoulders shake and he chokes, half-hidden by one of the older trees. You don't know if it's more painful to go up and say something, admitting you've witnessed him in this way, or to walk away and leave him to grieve alone.

Do you think there's a sweet little carving in that tree? Somewhere high in the branches where it's hard to find? Bucky + Steve, or more simply, faster and harder to catch, B + S, surrounded by a love heart? There, carved into the tree when it was young--when they were young.

Oh my fucking god.

Thank you for this! It's so terrible for my emotions. I love it.

[ithinkishouldchooseabettername]

I've been trying to draw literally all day but I can't make anything good PLS SEND HELP :((((

[swevenfox]

Personal Art - Shiratori Isamu

Was debating to share or not but I guess here I go. Shiratori is a Yakuza OC of mine with a complicated background and very active still on going story. He is unrelated to the game franchise but his creation was influenced by my joy and excitement and love I had for the serie, which served as a muse.

He is from Nagoya from a smaller Family who doesn't treat him by his real value, keeping him on short leash blocking him from improve and to grow. Struggling with mental problems hard to connect socially and with people - but great on catching on with details with a photogenic memory. He works as a crime scene cleaner to cover up and temper with evidences for the alliance where his Family literally 'renting' him and his services to other Families in time of need. He does his work insanely well, which is what keeps him afloat as it gives him a value and value keeps him alive in this dangerous world of his crime syndicate.

He carries a title which plagues his interaction further with alliance members and haunting him as some bad omen; Onryo of Shirakawa. Surviving 2 near death events (one left his neck scarred permanently) others take him as one brings bad luck and death follows his foot steps. Unlikely engaging with him turning his social struggles even more intense. Yet he is very loyal to his duty and carries the Yakuza life with pride, as that's all what left for him and if nothing else he will push through, he wants to survive.

His irezumi design a phoenix and a snake locked in a fight very personal. The snake representing his struggles and the mental illness he was born with - always causing hardship, but the phoenix even if defeated reborn from its ashes and keeps going on with grace and pride.

[indig0trolls]

First sketch set this month! Yay yippee!!

Dare To Dream - 25$ // Sullen & Grim - 45$ // Dancing Through Life - 25$

TOS UNDER CUT!

TOS

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Gender/sex/etc is ultimately up to the buyer.

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You may not EVER feed ANY of my art into an AI interface of ANY kind.​​​​​​​​

If you resell, trade, or gift this design, please inform me that it has been traded/resold/gifted so that I may update the TOS to reflect that and so future buyers cannot be scammed.

You may not resell, gift, or trade this design (or any of my designs) to anyone on my blacklist, which is linked below for your convenience. Doing so will result in immediate  blacklisting/blocking of your accounts.

You may not ever edit the original artwork(s).

You may not repost the original artwork to deviantart, instagram, or other social media/portfolio sites.

You may not use this design for the creation of license-able media such as (but is not limited to): books, animated shorts/shows, Vtuber/twitch streamer  sonas,  comics/webcomics, and video games (free or otherwise). If you  would like to use this design in anything like this, we can negotiate a one time licensing fee which covers use in all of the above. This can be anywhere form an additional 150-500$ depending on your intended use.

You MAY use your design for any other purpose, so long as you are not profiting financially off of my work nor passing it off as your own.

You are allowed to store it in your deviantart sta.sh, post it to tumblr profiles, or upload it to websites like toyhou.se with proper credit.

However, you may not reupload to toyhou.se, to keep the ownership log intact, and to keep the original tos consistent.

For my personal comfort, you may not delete original listings from toyhou.se and resell it separately. This is again to keep the ownership log intact, and to keep the original tos consistent. If the person you wish to resell it to does not have a toyhou.se, I have plenty of invite codes I can give out as necessary.

Please credit to INDIG0TEA the first time you post art of them to websites other than toyhou.se 

Violation  of many of these terms will result in permanent blacklisting/banning  from buying or owning designs by me in the future.

BLACKLIST

[mushroomnoodles]

info

mush/noodle · he/him · 21

read the FAQ?

hi. i draw sfw, nonfetish mpreg. of simon petrikov. i dont take requests unless im particular to them + simon related. but im willing to discuss and answer questions you have abt the whole.. mpreg simon thing lol, and you're always welcome to suggest things you want to see pertaining to my content, just uh.. be patient, and be aware im only gonna post simon stuff lol. i dont do a/b/o either. my blog is very fluff + angst forewarning. i aint afraid to touch heavier topics but i try my best to tw them accordingly.

i have a group of running aus and sometimes my content isn't just mpreg. im extremely uncomfortable with proship. please dont be horny on my art, i will block you. other than that im pretty chill

my art tag is #i have a mproblem, i also have #golbaby and #golbaby +1000 if youre looking for the baby or them in 1000 years. #my style is for works in my non-at art style. au tags beneath the cut :)

MAIN TIMELINE AUS (morrigan is the child of GOLBetty and the Simon in the show)

#plainvanilla the default timeline. the au color is purple. #wizardbetty (petrigrof semi-fix it au where simon is brought back in time into an alternate universe where betty survived as a budding wizard in the nuclear fallout, where he has to navigate the apocalypse while pregnant. eventually, morrigan creates a portal back to ooo, and the two try their best to get back to normal life while raising golbaby and trying to relate to humans from a time that is not their own.) the au color is blue.

#spicywizardbetty (similar to wizardbetty but simon is brought to the present day in her au. betty has full MMS and thinks he is her universe's simon come back to be with her.) the au color is the same blue as wizardbetty's.

#replacement dad (morrigan kidnaps an ice king from another universe and uses their transmutation abilities to change the wiring to bring that simon back and change the crown's appearance enchantment to make him resemble their dad. this simon, referred to as Imon or Ice Simon, is kept in morri's pocket dimension while they "fix" him.) this au has no set color. #bad end. (au where morrigan is unable to break the seal placed on them and is born 6 months after their due date; exhausted from trying to break the seal for so long, they drain the life of everything around them and it ends up killing everyone in the candy kingdom. marcy is a chaos creature now and pb is a monstrosity akin to the mother gum) this one is super angsty! the au color is grey. #forever seal (au where the seal placed on morrigan is extremely powerful and meant to be permanent, or at least until pb can figure out how to neutralize golbaby's powers; simon runs off shortly afterwards and is desperately seeking some way to break the seal on his baby. a wanted man, he travels ruins and hunts for artifacts and researches spells, while trying not to garner any attention from the townsfolk he lives with.) the au color is dark green.

#creaturewizards (arguably the most canon divergent, where wizards are all different kinds of mythical creatures. simon was turned into a sphinx and retains the species after being digested by GOLB, where betty becomes a harpy before becoming GOLBETTY. when she impregnates simon, he is expecting a whole litter instead of just morrigan.) the au color is brown.

MAJOR AUS (these universes do not feature morrigan as a golbaby, and the simons, betties, etc are different)

#candyworld (au where simon and betty are recreated as candy people, with betty being the candy elemental in pb's place. eventually she gains proper sentience with no candy person dumb dumb and overthrows pb, becoming the incredibly territorial candy witch.) the au color is pink.

#vamparents (au where simon and betty are vampires in the vampire king's inner circle, known as THE HANGED MAN and THE WORLD separately, and THE LOVERS together. betty was ambushed by a vampire before the mushroom war and was turned, before biting simon to save him from death by radiation poisoning.) the au color is maroon.

#lichtrikov (au where the host body The Lich chooses is the corpse of Simon Petrikov, unwittingly incurring GOLBetty's wrath. there is an alternate timeline of this where she impregnates him with a child meant to punish him forever by rendering him useless.) the au color is green.

#magic morri (au where magic betty and ice king stay together and have morri, who is then taken and raised by pb and marcy) the au color is teal. #dreamtime au (very tiny au following a dream i had once where magic betty turned ice king back into simon successfully after learning he was pregnant. ice king's personality is not entirely gone.) the au color is very loosely dark blue, but doesn't have a set color either.

[cryptidtumbleweed]

Welcome to my blog!

Figured I'd make an introduction/info post, so here we are :D

I'm a Finnish student doing their best to get into college and share their art and interests :3

Love mythologies and folklore and cryptozoology and all sorts of creepy urban legend crawlies, personal favorites include Mothman and the Loch Ness Monster

Permanent Slenderverse enjoyer, Marble Hornets has a special place in my heart <3

Deer and bird enthusiast, wolf-kid at heart.

Monster energy drink addict

Amateur cosplayer, mostly just Owl House. Also a furry

Owl House is my comfort show, other things I enjoy include:

Percy Jackson/Riordanverse/mythology in general

Lord of the Rings/Hobbit

The Ghost and Molly McGee

Warrior Cats

Night at the Museum

Ghibli movies

Dungeons and Daddies

Radical Face (artist)

Madilyn Mei (artist)

Ask box and DMs are always open, I'm very bad at talking to people at first but I would love to be friends as long as you have a bit of patience for me :3

Check out @tumblesmarbleowls for my Toh au sideblog

Autistic/social anxiety/chronic skin issues and migraines

Aroace and nonbinary/agender

DNI IF...

You are LGBTQIA+ phobic, racist, ableist, sexist or any sort of nasty bigot. This blog is a safe place for people

Your account is NSFW - seriously. This is an insta block.

You're going to be nasty/bullying for no reason. This includes being nasty to my friends on their blogs.

---***---

Commissions

Nothing is required, but if you want to support a queer autistic unemployed kid living alone and with meds/rent/utilities to pay, here's my art commission info!

Status: OPEN

I also draw ponies! Pricing is the same as it is for humans :3

INFO

🍃Payment will be via Paypal and is marked in USD

🍃If interested, please DM me here or email me at cryptidtumbleweed@gmail.com - if you email me, your email title needs to reference the topic of commissions ("commission inquiry" or "art commissions"). If not, I will ignore the email. I do recommend DMing here as I will most likely respond faster

🍃Please have a clear idea of what you want before messaging me - sending references for poses/clothing/sceneries is highly recommended!

🍃Half the payment upfront, the other half after you've approved the sketch. After this I won't do any drastic changes to the commission

🍃Prices aren't negotioable unless I say otherwise

🍃I have the right to refuse any commission I feel uncomfortable with

🍃Completing a commission depends on the complexity. I will try to finish any commission within a week but I can't promise anything. I draw art on my free time and it's secondary to real life events that might interfere with finishing any piece.

🍃I might not reply instantly due to timezones/irl stuff, but I will do my best to get in contact with you within 24 hours of you messaging me <3

For now, I'm not setting any slots but depending on interest, I might set a limit in the future. I'm also planning on setting up a Kofi for commissions in near future and will update this when I do.