#or a close up of their nose in the camera lense or something

[yaz-the-spaz]

tags via @1ds5directions who is apparently a psychic lol: #If zayn replies with thanks bro xx I am gonna fling myself into the sun

[clockwayswrites]

Another Red - Bunny Nose

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even though it wouldn’t be seen behind his lenses. “You can stop lurking, I know you’re there.”

“I let you.”

“You were obvious,” Danny said.

“Let you,” Black Bat said again, her voice almost sing-song.

It would be a fair argument with anyone else, Danny figured. She was absolutely silent as she moved across the roof to sit next to him. If he was a normal person, he probably wouldn’t know that she was there.

But he wasn’t normal.

“I could tell anyways,” Danny said with a little shrug. He let himself rock slightly as Black Bat bumped their shoulders together. He gave a little snort but didn’t move away. “I can. You’ve got a… presence about you.”

“Rabbit special power?”

“I don’t know how that name stuck,” Danny grumbled instead of answering. How did he explain being dead? That was too weird to go into, even to someone dressed like a bat. “I don’t look much like a rabbit.”

“Idea. Idea for weeks,” Black Bat said, sounding almost smug. “But you always run.”

“Yeah.”

“Not tonight.”

Danny shrugged again, their shoulders brushing with the motion. “Yeah. I’m… I’m just tired of running. Tonight I just wanted to… to enjoy the night.”

That didn’t even began to explain it, but it was all the words that Danny had for the horrible bubble of feelings under his rib cage.

“I should go?” Black Bat offered.

Danny leaned a little of his weight against their touching shoulders. It felt so nice to just be like this next to someone again, it made Danny’s heart give a lurch. “Naw, you seem nice and calm. You can stay. Just us though?”

“Others are busy,” she promised, going as far to actually cross her heart.

Danny gave a little bark of laughter that was joined by Black Bat’s almost silent laugh. When their short burst of laughter faded, they were left with the sounds of Gotham at night: people on the street talking, the mechanical rumble of the tram, an echoing siren in the distance. It was hardly the sounds Danny had grown up with, but they were starting to be comforting. Maybe Gotham could be home some day too.

“Present time?” Black Bat asked after several minutes of quiet.

Danny turned enough to look at Black Bat in confusion. “Present…?”

“Yes, idea present,” she said as if that explained anything.

It didn’t.

“Okay…?”

“Eyes closed.”

That made Danny hesitate. That was a lot of trust. But he was already letting her close enough to touch him. He’d seen Black Bat in motion and knew that she could take him down in an instant if she wanted. Giving in, Danny sighed just to make a point of it but closed his eyes as told.

When something pressed on the muzzle of his mask he jerked back instinctively, earning a tut from Black Bat. He tried not to move anymore as the touch continued or when he felt nimble fingers in his hair. The longer it continued, the more the touch in his hair was actually soothing. He could almost relax like this. When was the last time that he had relaxed?

Danny swayed a little as the fingers pulled away and Black Bat steadied him by the shoulder for a moment before her touch left him completely.

“Eyes open.”

She had a tiny camera pointed at him when he did and snapped a photo. Danny was still blinking the flash away as she quickly turned the camera around it around to show him the view screen.

Perched in his hair, right in the middle, was a headband with two little black rabbit ears. On his mask, Black Bat had drawn with some sort of bright red paint pen. Five simple lines made up a stylized rabbit nose and mouth. Danny found himself laughing, bright and loud and true.

“No.”

“Adorable,” Black Bat insisted.

Danny tried to stifle his laughter. “I am not wearing bunny ears to fight crime!”

“You are not fighting crime!” Black Bat insisted with a jab at Danny’s shoulder. “You are rescue.”

“Sure.”

“Rescue only!”

Danny raised his hands. “I said sure!”

“Sarcastic sure,” Black Bat grumbled.

“Still a sure.”

She sigh with a despondent air and slumped against Danny again. Danny didn’t mind the grumbling, it was still just nice to be touched. It was still just nice to be noticed by people who didn’t just want him gone. He’d take a few sighs and the bizarre rabbit theming to keep this.

Wasn’t that a fucking weird thought? To maybe let the Bats close. To maybe let them really see him. To maybe let them care. Would they care, if he let them?

Danny didn’t know if he was brave enough to find out.

---

AN: I needed something to write and @wolfjackle asked about the bunny face on this art. Cass decided to be responsible for that.

Stay strong darlings, strong and delightful.

[chrchofsuicidal]

!!!: threesome, video taping, oral sex (male/fem receiving), fingering, praise/deg, creampie

the three of you wanted to do something different for once, trying to up your sex game as if it weren't kinky enough. with dave mustaine and james hetfield, how vanilla could it really be?

you were fully naked, laid across the blonde as dave watched james play with you. your ass was exposed to him, slapping at the skin, seeing it turn a bright red as you jumped and let out a whine from pain and pleasure.

"awe, you liked that?" james put on a fake sympathetic voice, "you like davey being all rough with you?" he chuckled when you nodded.

dave took the hint, him having the camera up to your face, making james hold it since he was closer.

the ginger spread your legs apart before shoving two of his calloused fingers inside your pretty pussy. you were already wet for the two of them, only turning him on more.

he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, wet, slick sounds coming from in between your legs.

"oh, there we go, baby.." dave hummed, grabbing you by your hair, forcing your head back roughly before picking up his speed.

"who's this perfect little pussy belong to? hm?" he growled, slapping your cunt in the middle of your response which only made you whine and bite your lip from anticipation.

"better answer that fuckin' question, darlin'. dave asked you a question, baby. speak up and use your big girl words for us," james spoke, grabbing your chin so you would look at him.

your eyes were all over the place, not knowing who or where to look at, so you just made eye contact with the camera lense.

"y- you two!"

your voice was soft, before dave started rubbing your throbbing clit slowly.

"that's the right answer, baby." his speed quickened again before he looked at james.

"suck jamie off while you relax on my tongue. how about that?" he stated, lifting your hips up so that your ass was in his face, lips attaching to your juicy cunt.

james couldn't pull down his jeans fast enough, him holding it for you as you kissed the tip making him shudder. he was already leaking, smothering your puffy lips with his precum before shoving it in.

you couldn't help but close your legs around dave's head and trap him there, trying to focus on both of the things happening.

"atta girl.. taking us so well, ain't ya? so pretty when your full." james huffed, tangling his hand in your hair, guiding your head up and down.

all you could do was lay there and look pretty, looking up at jame's, moaning around his cock making him moan. dave was slurping and groaning into your pussy like a starved man who couldn't get enough.

"your mouths so warm- feels so good. gonna cum-" james moaned out, pulling out before he pumped his hand up and down up to your face, aiming at your lips but of course it decided to paint your whole face.

he quickly wiped the fluid off of your face, sticking his fingers inside of your mouth to taste him.

"such a good girl for us, doll. did davey make the pretty girl cum yet?" he asked, the same voice from before coming to action.

you shook your head, pouting before dave lifted his head. lips, chin, and nose covered in your fluids.

"no?" james gave a fake pout, rubbing your cheek. "well cmere and we'll make sure you're doing it again and again, sweetheart."

your positions flipped, you on your back, while the other two were standing infront of you, pants down, ready to be inside of you.

two of them rubbed their lengths against your folds, using your slick as lube. soon enough, shoving the entirety or eachother inside of your pussy. your gummy walls sucking and tightening around them the moment they entered.

"fuck!"

the two of them hissed in unison, james throwing his head back as dave held one of your legs up, wrapping it around his waist.

"taking us so well-" he huffed, leaning down to kiss and suck at your neck. "gonna make me cum too, princess."

the pace they had was slow and rough, tears pricking your eyes as they stretched you out to the max.

"pl- please! i wanna cum-"

you pleaded, holding the both of their forearms, nails digging into their skin.

"mm? don't gotta ask, sweetheart. go on-" james panted, close to his second high and so was dave. their tips twitching against eachother made them lose it, immediately spilling inside of you as you squirted and came along with them.

"oh! oh- ohhh" was all that came put of your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as your legs started shaking violently, the two pulling out to see their seed spill like a waterfall.

"fucking hell..." dave mumbled, zooming in on your flooded pussy.

you kept squirming trying to call down from your high as the camera stopped recording, the two grabbing either side of your cheek and showered your face with kisses.

james pet your hair and dave kissed down your body.

"didn't go to hard, right? felt good?" james asked and you nodded, you head still fuzzy from what just happened.

"let's go get cleaned up then, hun." dave picked you up bridal style, kissing your face all the way up the stairs to the bathroom as james followed from behind.

- - - - - - -

SORRY I GOT LAZY W THIS ONE IM SO TIRED.... also please send in reqs! id love to write whatever you have on your mind :3

[noblesixjm04]

I can't get this out of my head. It's just something that ive had rattling around. If this doesn't make much sense I'm sorry lol but.

Do you ever think about if the Spartan ii's ever met one of those siblings without realizing it?

Like. John meeting a young female marine. She's quick witted and wicked smart. There is almost nothing she will back down from. At least not until she gets a "win." She will never leave one of her teammates behind. She's also known among her friends for her dry sense of humor.

One day she runs into John whiles he's out of armor. She never realizes that he's the Master Chief as they stare at one another. Blue eyes look into blue. The roots of her hair are blonde. Contrasted against a dark brown. They share the same smattering of freckles. Dusted along their face and down to their arms. Petering out along the backs of their hands.

And when she smiles there's a gap in her front teeth. (One tooth is chipped from a hard won game of King of the Hill.) She jokes that they match.

Apparently her brother had to. Her parents told her about him. How he had passed a few years before she was born. Her mother told her about her and her brothers shared a constellation of freckles.

Maybe Kelly runs into a pair of twin engineers. One is a girl. The other a boy. The girl has her hair cropped short. It's faded green. The boy has long hair. Held back in a tight braid. It's blue.

They strike up a conversation with Kelly one day. Mostly out of boredom. At one point talking about how they had been on their schools track team. Twin Terrors they had been called. They were the fastest in the entirety of their schools career.

They are the only two out of the group of engineers and scientists that could match her humor.

Kelly never sees them again after that. But she thinks about them often enough. About how they all shared the same accented voice.

About the day they all raced.

She won. Of course. But something about it made her feel like she was missing something. She matched it to the same feeling to her younger years with the rest of the ii's on Reach. On some of the few days they had true fun.

Linda was sent to therapy. Well. Not really sent. It was... Suggested. That she go.

Linda did. This time. For the first time. The last time.

She met an older man. Her elder by about three or four years. With the same red hair, that has streaks of white at the temples, and piercing green eyes.

Those eyes that looked at her like she does down the snipers scope. Those eyes that seemed to know her own.

She could see them widen. Hear the hitch on his breath as they flicker to a photograph and then back to her.

He...

Maybe she had seen him in passing once. Despite him never having been on this ship before.

He has been the one to pull the trigger.

"I don't think I'm the right match for you." His voice rumbled in a familiar way.

When she left. Linda tried to stop thinking about the worn, frames photo on his desk. The one with a boy. About eight or nine. With a shock of bright red hair. He held an archery trophy in one hand. In his other. The hand of a little girl. Close to five. With that same shock of red hair and green eyes that seemed to see you even through the cameras lense.

Fred meets a medic after a nasty injury. The Odst's and Marines in his company joke that he has as getting the best medic around.

He was a young man. Kind and deeply empathetic.

Those same Marines also joked about how the two of them could be siblings in a different life. With how they shared the same sloped nose and sharp jaw. The same, soft manner of speaking.

"Seriously Lieutenant. Just give the Doc the same hair cut. Could fool me that's for sure."

The medic said that he did have a brother. One that he has never met. That he had passed away a few months before he had been born .

But he and his parents visited his grave every year on his brother's birthday. And that this was the first year that he wouldn't be able to.

"He's be turning thirty three today." The medic had just finished Fred's stitches.

"Oh." Fred spoke it before it could be stopped.

"Oh what?" The medic had asked.

"I turned thirty three today." It was one of the few things he remembered. Something he rarely thought about. Because something around it had made his heart hurt.

"Here then. Happy birthday." The medic handed Fred a chocolate granola bar.

[cainache]

the muse behind what’s new ♱ eddie munson

part ii

It’s late. The TV is only static. One of the two antennas is bent by your roommate's cat, which now just lingers on the couch silently—sleeping. You’re in no mood to fix it or get up to turn it off.

The apartment is hot. It’s late June. A window is cracked open to your right, your eyes are glazed over and lost in connection with nothing in particular. You’ve been staring out the window for a little too long now. You watch the world outside, quiet and dark. The apartment building is towards the middle of Hawkins where everything is loud—yet everything is quiet.

Hawkins has hushed down in the last few years.

All the kids and their hyper personalities have grown and moved away. College. Adults. Futures. Yours has stayed here. College isn’t what it seemed to you at seventeen edging eighteen. You’re twenty one now and it’s all so.. simple.

It’s the same thing everyday. It makes things feel less real. Less important. Less for you.

You’ve seemed to crawl away from what had mattered months ago. Friends. Parties. The things that make young adults feel much of anything.

It’s all quiet now, and you’re not sure why. You don’t remember how you’d gotten here.

You don’t hear the front door unlock and creak open. You don’t notice Maren’s cat skit across the room and towards her owner's legs. You only move away from the trance of the window when something is slammed on the dining table right before you.

You flinch. Maren smiles.

“Sorry, it’s late. I brought you food.” Maren is more outgoing than you’ve ever been. It’s nice living with her. You smile small at her. “Thank you,” your friends had gone out for dinner—it had been the last day of finals. And while you’d been invited, you wanted to go home and lay in bed. You did. You’ll regret it in a week, like you always do.

Your eyes finally seem to drift to what had been dropped on the dining table. “Days paper.” Maren says gently as she moves towards the small kitchen area, she places your wrapped food in the microwave. Yet she doesn’t start to heat it up. She can tell you aren’t hungry right now. You’re never really hungry anymore.

Your heart is pounding right now. Suddenly.

You’re staring at a big headline, makes you a little sick. The Muse Behind Corroded Coffin’s New Album. There’s ringing in your ears as you take the paper into your hands, the pad of your thumb running over the printed photo. He’s there. He’s always there. To his side, drowning under his heavily tattooed arm is a girl. She’s beaming at the camera. Eyes so small from her large smile. She’s picture perfect for the lense. Eddie has her pulled so close even you can feel the proximity. His face is turned towards her, nose to her temple as his tongue runs up along her cheek. They look cool.

He has more tattoos since he’s left home.

In the background of the photo are the rest of the boys, laughing and drinking.

They’ve made it big a few years ago, when you decided you wanted to stay here and Eddie couldn’t. He couldn’t rot in Hawkins any longer. That was the last time you’d seen him. Felt him. He’s twenty four now and is in one of the biggest bands to make it loud. It makes you sick on occasions. Like when a song of theirs plays on the radio. Or when someone from town has a shirt with their faces and guitars on it.

You wish to hate him. But how can you wish to hate someone who followed their dream. You thought you’d been following yours as well.

The girl under his arm is Cady Lovewell, so the paper says. Even her name is achingly perfect. She’s an upcoming model from New York. Eddie’s name has helped her a lot. And her name has helped Eddie a lot. The new album’s about her. It’s all love, sex, drugs, and rock.

“Anything new?” You almost forgot Maren was in the room. Your eyes drift from the paper to her’s. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of water. “What?” You let out softly. She nods towards the paper in your hands. You suddenly drop it like it’s burned you. It has. Maren seems to notice. “Rockstar again?”

You simply shrug. “Yeah.”

Maren hums gently, smiles. “I still think you did the right thing. You know? Doing what was right for you. I know saying bye to him sucked..but I’m proud you did what you did.” You hadn’t known her when Eddie left. It was a few months before college when he left. And when you had met her, it seemed, it was the best thing to happen to you in awhile. She’s a good friend.

So, you force out a smile for her. Your good friend.

If you had heard the words from her a few years ago you would’ve felt over the moon. Now they don’t do much. “Thanks, Mar.” She smiles small at you and swipes up her cat, they both disappear into the small hall and eventually her room.

Your eyes drift back to the paper. You wonder if your mother still sees these? If she still sees Eddie’s face and goes I used to know that boy. My daughter loved him. I think he loved my daughter as well. Your mother probably still sees these, like you do. You look for them without meaning to. It’s the only way you get updates on him and his life of fame. Even if they do more bad than good, for you.

You read the article again and pick at a hangnail on your thumb, till it bleeds. You don’t notice. The paper has made you too anxious to feel much of anything else.

The album was definitely inspired by Cady Lovewell.

Though, if you asked Eddie Munson personally and off the record—he’d say a completely different name then Cady Lovewell.

But you would never know that.

[ijustreallylikepirates]

So for all the people who love disventure camp and think it’s criminally underrated, here is a fanfic of Alenick (Alec x Nick) in Alec’s pov. If you don’t know who the hell these two are or what disventure camp is and you just like enemies to lovers tropes, this is great for you.

A little note before we get started: I wouldn’t say this fanfic is very inappropriate, (SPOILERS) they do make out once and they swear a bit but otherwise there’s nothing too bad. Now I won’t keep you any longer so please enjoy my fanfic and I would really appreciate it if you left a nice comment and liked. Thank you, ily :) <333

I sighed as I pulled into the parking lot of the public library, stopping my car’s engine and staring out the driver’s seat window at the library.

“Just another excruciatingly long day of work.” I yawned and took my glasses off to rub my eyes, then wiped the lenses off and shoved them back on my nose.

I turned my head back to my steering wheel and blinked sleepiness out of my eyes. But that didn’t work. Before I knew it, my eyelids drooped and my forehead dropped down hard onto the wheel. Right onto the horn. The horn let out a painfully loud beep.

I jumped back quickly, my hand over my chest. Now that definitely woke me up. I straightened my glasses and unbuckled my seatbelt. I grabbed my tote bag off the passenger seat, slipped it over my shoulder, and shoved open the car door. I slowly stepped out and took a breath of fresh air. Then I sighed again and pushed the door closed.

But as I tried to walk, something was keeping me back. I looked behind me and saw my bag was stuck inside the car door.

“Aw, great! Just another thing to add to my list of reasons why today is gonna be a bad day.” I pulled on my bag a little, then after it didn’t come out of the car door, I slipped it off my shoulder, grabbed the straps, and pulled with all my might.

The bag immediately flew out of the door, causing me to flop onto the asphalt like I’d been shot. I quickly stood up, grabbed my bag off the ground, and slipped it back over my shoulder. I brushed dirt off my blue vest, then headed towards the library.

As I walked across the parking lot, a blue car came driving right towards me. I quickly turned my head to the car, stopping right in front of it like a deer in headlights.

The driver beeped at me so I stared directly into the windshield. I couldn’t see who the driver was but I stuck up my middle finger at them and shouted, “Fucking moron! Watch where you’re driving!” I walked up the front steps to the library and pushed open the door.

I walked behind the front desk and set my tote bag under the desk, then flopped down in my chair and sighed. I picked my phone out of my pocket and opened up my camera. I flipped it to face me and looked at my exhausted face on the screen. I had large bags under my eyes.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and leaned down to shuffle around in my bag, then pulled out my current reread, The House In the Cerulean Sea, and flipped it open until I found my bookmark. I set the bookmark on the table, crossed my legs, and started to read.

I was deep into my book when I heard the door open. I paid no attention to it until the door slammed shut and scared me half to death, causing me to drop my book on the floor. As the book toppled, my page was lost. And I don’t even remember what page I was even on!

“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath. “Nothing’s gonna go my way today, huh?” I got out of my chair and onto the floor. I picked up my book and went to stand back up but I banged my head on the table.

I stood back up, rubbing my head. “Fu-” I stopped myself as I saw a woman and a little girl standing at the desk. “-dgesicles. Fudgesicles.” I calmly placed my book on the desk next to the computer and asked the woman, “What can I do for you ladies today?”

“I just wanted to check these books out,” the woman said, placing a copy of The House In the Cerulean Sea on the desk, along with a pile of every Magic Treehouse book.

I took The House In the Cerulean Sea off the desk and scanned it. I smiled at the woman and said, “This is such a good read. I’m currently rereading it for, what, the five-hundredth time?”

The woman laughed and said, “I heard it was really good. Glad to know you liked it.”

My smile grew wider and I started scanning the Magic Treehouse books. “These for you?” I asked the little girl.

She smiled wide and said, “Yeah! I’m really excited to read them!”

The woman giggled and said, “She’s such an avid reader.”

“Just like me when I was a kid. I read the whole Harry Potter series in 1 month when I was 12.”

The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s shocking. Not even I could do that.”

“I just can’t go a day without a good book to dive into. I’m so glad that the youth still likes reading. I looked at the little girl with a warm smile on my face. “I’m sure you’ll be a great reader as you get older.”

The little girl just smiled wide and clapped her hands together. I looked back at the woman and asked, “Can I have your card?”

The woman dug around in her coat pocket, then pulled out a red library card and handed it to me. I took it diligently and scanned it for her. I typed something down on my computer, then handed her a date due slip. “Make sure to bring the books back by this date.” I stacked The House In the Cerulean Sea on top of the Magic Treehouse books and pushed the pile to the woman. “Have a nice day.”

The woman took the stack of books off the desk and said, “Thank you. Have a nice day.” The little girl stayed close to her mom’s side as they walked out the door.

I sighed, picked up my book, and tried to find my page. “My day’s already going terrible so that’s off the market.” As I flipped through the pages I couldn’t help but think… that little girl kind of reminded me of…

No. I can’t bring her back to my mind. I just can’t think of Fiore on my already terrible day. We’d had a father-daughter relationship, yet she’d still betrayed me.

I found my page and started reading where I left off. I barely got through a sentence when I heard my boss’s voice behind me, “Alec, take your nose out of that book for a second. I just hired a new guy to help you behind the front desk.”

I put my bookmark in between the pages and said, “I don’t need any help. I can do my job perfectly.” I crossed my legs and turned my chair around. I gasped as I saw the guy standing next to my boss.

He was a face I knew all too well, a face I couldn’t stand to look at. Blonde hair, goatee, cyan eyes, wearing a business casual suit and fedora.

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. Nick. You’re my new…” I looked Nick up and down. “…partner?”

Nick smirked and crossed his arms. “Alec. Great to finally see you again.”

“Stop with the sarcasm. What are you doing in a library? I didn’t know you could read.”

“Oh, haha. Didn’t know you worked here, otherwise I would’ve picked any other library in the city. Oh, and what was it you called me? A… fucking moron?” Nick laughed seductively. “Right back at you old friend.”

“That was you in that car?” I scowled. “Thanks for trying to run me over. I really appreciate that.” I stared at him and held back a gag. “And don’t call me ‘friend.’”

“What? You don’t like that? Would you rather me call you sexyback?”

I flung out of my chair and stood face to face with Nick. “Don’t call me that either.”

Nick smirked and said, “Okay, sexyback.”

I grumbled and balled up my fists. My boss took Nick by the shoulders and pulled him away from me. “Okay, that’s enough. Nick, why don’t you go look around the library, get to know the place? It’s obvious you two already know each other and don’t get along well.” He slapped Nick on the back and said, “Go on then.”

Nick slowly walked out from behind the front desk and disappeared into the bookshelves, his hands in his pockets. I glared at him at he walked away, then groaned and sat back down in my chair. My boss stood in his place for a while in complete silence.

“So how do you guys know each other?” my boss asked, breaking the silence.

“We met on this show, Disventure Camp. Ever heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“Well, it was this show with two teams where both teams would have to compete in various challenges and whichever team lost would vote out someone on their team. Of course there were days where there was no elimination or when a voted out camper would come back but those weren’t frequent. Nick placed 12th, I placed 4th.”

“Wow. 4th was very close. How did you get to 4th?”

“I was kind of evil. I was teamed up with this little girl, Fiore, and we were like an inseparable evil duo. Even without her I would’ve been able to place 1st, since I’m so smart I could’ve been able to strategize my way through. If only Fiore hadn’t made an agreement with Miriam and Ellie to vote me out so she could get farther in the game.” I balled my fist at the thought of Fiore, how close we were, how she betrayed me and how angry that made me feel.

“Ok… and what about Nick placing 12th? Why didn’t he do as well as you?”

“Well, nobody really liked him. Safe to say I agree with everybody. He was so stuck up and snarky, always boasting about how much money he had. ‘I’ll pay you if you take my suitcase,’ like shut up already!”

My boss stared at me with concern. “Okay. Alec, why don’t you just take a couple deep breaths and focus on your work? Once you finish your shift, you won’t have to deal with Nick anymore until tomorrow. I’ll just try to keep him away from you, okay?”

I took a deep breath, then nodded and turned my chair back around to face my computer.

~

Eventually, Nick had to come back behind the front desk to actually do some work. I avoided speaking to him as much as I could.

When I would walk by Nick, he could turn his chair around and shout at me, “Hey, sexyback!”

I just rolled my eyes and didn’t say anything. I knew that whatever I tried wasn’t going to make him stop calling me that. So I just ignored it.

Today was just a boring day at work, but at least Nick didn’t bother me so much. My boss probably talked to him about that.

A little before my shift ended, I decided I wanted to tease Nick a little. I took a sticky note off my desk picked a pen out of a cup on my desk, and wrote this down:

‘Dear Nick,

I hate you so much. Please fire yourself from this library and never come back.

With hate,

Alec.’

I looked at the note with a smirk on my face, then got up from my chair and stuck the sticky note next to Nick’s keyboard while he was in the bathroom, then headed to the bathroom myself.

As I was walking there, Nick was walking back. We stared at each other blankly for a second, then continued on.

As I walked back to my desk from the bathroom, Nick surprisingly didn’t turn his chair around to call me ‘sexyback’ with that stupid smirk on his face. I knew why as soon as I got back to my desk.

There was a sticky note stuck to my monitor. I groaned and sat down in my chair, then took the sticky note off my computer.

I read it to myself, then rolled my eyes. It read:

‘Dear Alec,

I hate you even more. I hope you decide you hate reading one day and quit your job.

With love,

Nick’

I crumpled it up into a ball and threw it into my trash can. Then I finished up my work on my computer, packed up my stuff, and left the library.

~

When I got home and looked into my work bag, I saw the note from Nick crumpled up in my bag. I guess I had missed the trash can when I threw it.

I groaned and said, “I don’t need a reminder of Nick.” I took the note out of my bag and threw it into my bedside trash.

~

It had officially been 4 days I had been working with Nick. God, he bothers me so bad.

As I was readying myself for bed, I picked up my journal off my nightstand and turned to a free page. My therapist told me to write down what happened every day and to let off my negative emotions into it every night before bed. He said it would help with letting go of my ‘emotional baggage,’ whatever that meant.

But as I picked up a pencil to start writing, I turned back to reread what Nick had done to me in the past days.

Day 2

I was looking for a book in one of the shelves when I took my glasses off to clean them and accidentally dropped them on the floor. But when I went to pick them up, Nick came up behind me and asked me ‘who I was bending over for.’ So immature.

Day 3

I was rearranging the books in the shelves, and Nick was following me around, unorganizing the shelves as I organized them to mess with me. I didn’t even notice he was doing this until the end of his shift when the boss came to find him. Then I had to rearrange them before my shift ended. Every. Single. Shelf.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I just can’t stand him. I turned back to my new page and started to write down what had happened today.

Day 4

Nick followed me around all day, talking to me about things I really don’t care about like Star Wars and just calling me sexyback in between every sentence. Eventually I gave out and yelled at him to knock it off. He looked guilty and just walked away. I don’t know why he would look like he was sorry or why he always made an attempt to talk to me every day, or even why he calls me sexyback all the time but it’s a little-

I stopped writing abruptly, then dropped my pencil. I picked up my journal, reread today’s entry, then slammed it shut and got up off my bed. I stormed off to the bathroom and got my toothbrush out of the cabinet.

“No, he can’t like me. That’s weird. We hate each other!” I grabbed my tube of toothpaste and lobbed some on my toothbrush.

“Why would he like me? There’s no way! I don’t even like him! Why should he like me?” I shoved the toothbrush in my mouth, then stared at myself in the mirror blankly.

I let my mind work for a second, then asked myself, “Do I like him?”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t like him! It’s not possible! How would I like him? I mean like, maybe the way he smirks when he calls me sexyback, or like when he follows me around just to talk to me and-”

I looked at myself in the mirror. “God, I do like him!” I finished brushing my teeth and stormed back into my bedroom. I grabbed my book out of my work bag, got in my bed, and pulled the covers over my legs.

But as I opened my book, I couldn’t help but look into the trashcan where Nick’s note was still sitting on the top, completely untouched. I reached down and grabbed it out of the trash.

I uncrumpled it and read it over to myself. To confirm my suspicions of Nick liking me, he did put ‘with love’ on his note while I put ‘with hate.’ Surprisingly I smiled and blushed, then put the note on my bedside table and continued reading.

But as I finished reading, I took that note off the table and traded it out for my bookmark, then shut the book and went to sleep.

~

The next day as soon as I got into work, I rushed behind my desk and pulled a sticky note off the pad, then wrote a quick note to my boss:

‘Boss,

I think I like Nick. Please help.

Confused,

Alec’

I stuck the note on the bulletin board next to his offices and went back to my desk.

Nothing really major happened for the remainder of the morning. It was surprisingly peaceful. The only disturbance was when Nick walked into work and called me sexyback on the way by.

He didn’t bother me for the rest of the morning. Well, until right now.

“Alec.” I jumped as he came up behind me.

I turned my chair around and exclaimed, “You scared me! What do you want now?”

Nick held something up in his hand. Panic rushed through my body. He was holding the sticky note. The one that stated I liked him.

Oh. Shit.

“Did you write this, Alec?”

“Of course not. Someone must’ve staged it.”

“Who would? Nobody else works here besides our boss and he wouldn’t do that. He’s a big sweetheart. So obviously it was you.” Nick paused for a second to walk a little closer to me. “It is true?”

He leaned closer to me.

“Of course it isn’t,” I said, trying not to show the panic on my face.

“Are you sure about that?” Nick asked me, leaning closer to me so that we were face to face.

I stared into his eyes blankly, fear rushing through my body. My face felt so hot, it felt like I was blushing. I could’ve been but there was no way to check right now. There’s no way I was getting out of this, so I gave in. “I really need to work on my poker face, don’t I?” I smirked.

He laughed and said, “A little improvement could work. Otherwise it was pretty solid.”

Before I could say anything, he pressed his lips onto mine. “I knew you’d give into me eventually, sexyback,” Nick said, giving me that stupid smirk of his.

“Oh, shut up, you Brit,” I said, shaking my head.

Nick backed up a little and grabbed my hand. He pulled on my arm and said, “Come on.”

As he pulled me out of my chair I asked him, “Where are you taking me?”

He laughed and said, “Can we make out? Like just for a little bit?”

I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Please, Alec? Just for like 5 minutes?”

I thought about it for a second. “Fine, let’s go.”

Nick laughed and tugged on my arm again. I laughed along with him as he dragged me off to the bathroom.

When we got in the bathroom, he led me into the second stall and locked the door.

I laughed and said, “Why are you acting like someone’s gonna walk in on us?”

“Just in case.”

Before I could say anything, he pushed me against the stall, threw his arms around my neck, and shoved his lips on mine. Honestly, I don’t think I liked kissing anyone more than him.

He pulled away from the kiss and asked, “Do you know why I really came to work here, Alec?”

I shook my head.

“I came to work here because of you.” He poked my chest. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time and I wanted to see if I could make you feel the same way.”

I chuckled and said, “Well, I guess it worked.”

He laughed, a low attractive laugh.

I blushed, put my hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for another kiss. He brought one of his hands up my neck and ran his fingers through my hair.

His hands were warm, and his face was utterly cold. He pressed his body up against mine and gripped my neck tighter.

Kissing him was like having an out of body experience. It was so unreal, so astonishing. I just couldn’t believe that it was really Nick I was kissing right now.

I pulled away from Nick. “But Nick, don’t you have a girlfriend?”

He looked off to the side and said, “Yeah, but… I don’t really love her anymore. I love…” He looked up at me.

I blushed and smiled. “You love me?”

Nick nodded slowly, blushing and smirking.

I slowly pulled him in for another kiss and said, “I love you too.”

We continued making out but this little romantic moment would soon end.

Our boss came through the bathroom door shouting, “Alec? Nick? Are you guys in here?”

Nick quickly shoved himself off me, slamming against the other wall of the stall.

The bathroom went silent, then the boss called out, “Hello? Was that you?”

Nick shoved his hands over his mouth to muffle his breathing. I raised an eyebrow at him.

I could see the boss’s feet underneath the stall. I wasn’t panicking at all until the boss stopped dead in his tracks right in front of our stall.

“I can see you two in there! Get out of there!”

Me and Nick stayed as silent as mice. The boss tried to push open the door.

“Alec, open the door please.”

I didn’t say a word. I stared at Nick. He shook his head.

The boss scoffed and said, “Nick?”

I silently pleaded Nick to unlock the door. Nick took his hands off his mouth and mouthed to me ‘Fine.’

He reached out a shaky hand and unlocked the door. The boss gently opened up the door.

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “What were you two doing in here?”

I looked nervously at my feet, blushed, and quickly said, “Nothing.”

At my side, Nick just as quickly said, “Making out.”

I looked up at Nick, blushing even more. “Nick!”

He shrugged and said, “What? I panicked!”

The boss shook his head and said, “And I thought you boys hated each other?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, rubbing my arm.

The boss just shook his head again and said, “Nick, come on. I have something I need you to do for me. Alec, you have work to do.”

The boss started walking away, leaving me and Nick in the stall alone.

Before following the boss, Nick leaned in for one more juicy kiss. “See you later.” He ran off after the boss.

I stood there against the stall, dazed for a second. Then I wiped my mouth and lumbered out of the stall.

As I made my way back to the front desk, the boss was standing there talking to Nick.

As I walked by them, Nick pulled my arm and put a slip of paper in my hand. “Me, you, dinner tonight?”

I unfolded the slip of paper, which had a phone number on it. Nick’s phone number.

I smirked and said, “I’ll call you.”

I walked back to my desk and sat in my chair. I watched as Nick walked off to the other side of the library, his hands in his pockets.

The boss came up behind me and said, “So, Nick, huh?”

“Oh, shut your mouth,” I said, adding Nick’s number onto my phone.

The boss laughed and walked away. And honestly, thinking about all this time I’ve spent with Nick, I really meant it. I did love him.

The End!!!

I hope you enjoyed my fanfic! I enjoyed writing it and I think it turned out really nice. What do you guys think? Drop your thoughts in the comments and if you want, like the fanfic. Thank you pookies!!! <3333

[mordenheim]

“It’s been a long time”

Onion sighed as she looked around her mostly empty room. Moving in had been a real pain in the tail and the brown-furred bunny yawned and stretched as she set the box she had been carrying on a small, low table. She flopped back on the old beige couch that her mom had given her. “Just until you can get something better,” she had said.

Onion chuckled a little and sighed as she popped open the tape sealing the box, expecting it to be her dishes. Instead, she was greeted with a box of random junk that had been stored in the top of her bedroom closet. A few of her old track and field trophies some weird little keepsakes, her memory box, a hideous baseball cap that her dad had bought for her when they had driven Route 66 when she was a teen, and a black case.

She tilted her head at the case, looking at it curiously. She didn't remember having anything like that. She set it on the table, carefully popping the four buckle style fasteners that held it closed. She lifted the lid, wrinkling her little pink nose at the musty odor only to be greeted by an old Polaroid instant camera. She stared at it a moment, shaking her head. If this thing actually worked, it might be worth a little money.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she immediately texted her mother, fuzzy fingers flying over the touch screen. She asked her mom about the camera and she said she didn't know anything about it, it must have been either her father's or one of her brother's, but since they didn't seem to care about it, she was welcome to do what she wanted.

“Nice! Score!”

She poked around in the case a bit more, turning up three unopened packages of film and a flash bar. She looked at them thoughtfully for a moment. All of it was worth money, but she had to know if the camera actually worked or not. Wincing at the thought of losing some of the money, she ripped open a pack of the film and popped open the front of the camera.

As soon as the loading door closed, the camera whirred loudly to life, spitting out the protective sheer that covered the first unexposed photo. She giggled a little and murmured to herself. “Progress goes vrrrrrrr...”

She picked up the camera and looked through the viewfinder. I was really nothing more than a tiny telescope with lenses in it marked with the outline of a photo and a little cross hair in the center. She looked through her room and snapped a picture of the empty wall across from her, the dark doorway off to one side.

The camera whirred again, spitting out the now exposed photo. It was almost pure white, but slowly darkened to show the photo itself. She nibbled at her bottom lip with her largish buck teeth as she saw what came into view, though.

Instead of a blank wall, she saw a low bookshelf against the wall and several of what seemed to be family photos mounted on the wall. A family of mice to be specific. She shook the photo a little, trying to speed up its development as her ears wilted a little at this weird moment.

She looked down at the camera again. Tossing the photo on the table in front of her, she took another picture of the far wall. This time her hands were sweating as she waited impatiently for the photo to develop. It nearly shot out of her grasp as she was shaking it so hard, trying to speed up the process.

This time the bookcase was knocked to the floor. Several of the pictures were missing and the few that were there were crooked. Black and yellow police tape were angled across the darkened doorway and something deep red, almost a maroon color was splattered over the white paint.

Her hands started to tremble as she looked down at the camera again. What in the world was going on here, she thought to herself. She reached towards the camera again, lifting it to take another photo. Another loud click and whirr and the photo dangled from the front of the camera again.

After it developed, this time the wall and room were bare and clean. It just looked like a normal photo of the far side of the room except. Claws. Long, slender clawed fingers were curled around one side of the darkened door frame and into the light.

The camera slipped through her fingers and clattered to the floor. She tossed the photo aside as if it might bite her and got up to go to the restroom. She splashed some cool water on her face from the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. This had to either be a dream or some kind of prank. Yeah, likely a prank from one of her brothers, that was all.

Marching back into the living room, she flopped on the couch again, picking up the camera from the floor. It hadn't even cracked from the fall.

“They sure don't make stuff like this anymore...”

Looking through the viewfinder again, she lined up the shot squarely at the doorway this time, pressing the bright red button on the front and listening to the familiar loud whir. She jumped, startled for a second as she thought she had seen something move in the doorway.

As the photo developed, she saw it. Some kind of huge, gangling wolf was crawling in from the darkened doorway. It's long, bony limbs could have easily reached halfway across the room as it clawed its way out of the darkness.

Her breath was coming fast now. She stared down at the camera in her hands. She really wanted to get rid of it now, just throw it away and forget she had ever found the damned thing, but she almost couldn't stop herself. She slowly lifted the camera in front of her face again, peering through the viewfinder.

The huge creature stared back at her, halfway out of the doorway. It lunged for her as she pushed the button and the camera clattered to the floor again.

The room was empty, and once the camera ejected this final photo it was silent. All that could be seen was the blur of some dark, bony hand latched tight around the wrist of a brown-furred arm.

[bi-bats]

Jailbird

Did I write the fics I need to write? No! Did I finish applying to grad school? Also no! Did someone draw art in the Red on Red discord server that made me black out and wake up to a 3k word fic I apparently wrote? Yes! Here’s the beginning!

--

Tim slipped through the door, letting it click shut behind him without looking. He was too busy leveling a glare at the man sitting across from him.

“Hey, pretty bird.”

Jason puffed on the cigarette between his fingers, pulling it away from his face so Tim could watch the smoke fall from his lips. There was a smug look in his eyes that Tim wanted to smack off. He ignored the bruising around Jason’s right eye for now, the scrapes across his knuckles.

“So nice of you to wait up for me,” Tim said flatly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Took you long enough.” The corner of Jason’s lips tilted up into a little grin.

“What are you still doing here? You could have slipped those cuffs ages ago.” Tim knew the lenses on his mask were narrowing to match his eyes.

“And deprive you the chance to come rescue me?” Something playful danced across Jason’s expression.

“I had to fake a gang war across town to get in here. I was busy , Jason.” Tim drummed his fingers impatiently on his arm.

“Aww, sorry for ruining your night, birdie.” Jason winked, placing the cigarette to rest between his lips. He shifted his hands down to his pockets.

“Where did you even get a cigarette?” Tim snapped.

“Lifted it. And this.” He tossed a lighter onto the table. “And these.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pockets and shook them in the air a bit, smirking, before unlocking the handcuffs on one side.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re a jackass.” Tim grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door open.

“You’re a drama queen.” Jason pushed the chair back, letting the metal screech across the floor. A dull pain pulsed above Tim’s right eye, and Jason laughed at him as he stood, pulling the cigarette from his lips. The handcuffs were still dangling from his right wrist, like an accessory.

“Are you keeping those?”

“Souvenir,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair on his way by just to watch him blush. Tim took a deep breath in through his nose and followed him out, watching him step over the unconscious guard and stride down the hallway like he didn’t know the word ‘stealthy’.

“Didn’t you train with the league?” Tim hissed at him, staying close to the wall.

“Didn’t you disable all the cameras in the building before busting me out of an interrogation room?” Jason didn’t even bother lowering his voice, the absolute asshole .

“I should have left you here.” Tim gritted his teeth.

“You could have.” Jason stopped in the middle of the hall, and Tim had to resist the urge to grab him by the arm and drag him out of the building. “Why didn’t you?”

keep reading

[randomwriteronline]

Terusho joined the Survey Corps because the Professor caught them trying to figure out how to use his photocamera.

They had started out as an apprentice of the Manufacture Corps, and had gone to the ground floor offices to ask for something they had forgotten. The strange abandoned gadget had captured their attention.

It wasn't a punishment, truly - the Professor had been ecstatic to see someone interested in the technology and willing to learn how to use it. He had managed to rope Dagero into teaching them the basics and encouraged them to take pictures of Jubilife Village to practice and document its development.

So for a while, Terusho was 'the One-Eye Kid'. Wandering the world with only one eye opened behind mechanical lenses.

They took photos of buildings at first, then of people: the first ones were average at best, but that was to be expected. One day they took a marvelous one of Colza, and they blushed deeply at the praise it received.

The Professor had a lot of film for his camera, because he wanted to take pictures of Pokémon while he studied them; so one day, even though they were terrified and their legs trembled, Terusho followed him out to the Fieldlands to photograph a few of the mysterious creatures as he wrote down their behaviors from a safe distance.

As nerve wrecking as it had been, they had both returned to Jubilife safe, sound and satisfied with the day's research. The Professor was very enthusiastic about their improvement in photography, and especially complimented their pictures of a Shinx yawning and of a Starly caught in the middle of its first flight.

That was all it took them to become 'the Professor's assistant'.

Terusho wishes they would not have to go around catching and battling Pokémon as Survey Corps duty, that they do.

They're not good at either, basically a lost cause: how can you take on something that makes your blood freeze solid, and having to rely on one of its horrifying kind to booth?

They'd rather spend hours making all sorts of Pokéball for Choy to sell. They are good at that.

So while it is a little embarassing to be outclassed by an 8-year-old, they aren’t exactly complaining when AkaRei excitedly takes over the most perilous part of the Survey Corps gig, leaving their senior to just craft items they might need - because they are too young to properly grind medicinal leeks and Oran berries into potions, let alone carefully cut and carve an Apricorn to turn it into a functioning capsule.

One of the strange and good things about AkaRei is that they love to catch Pokémon: they love to complete the Pokédex pages, and they love to hear the Professor talk about Pokémon.

Being only able to carry six of them, this means that there are plenty docile specimens sitting around in the pastures - perfect for one to make a small collection of up close and personal pictures that Terusho would otherwise be too scared to even just try and attempt to take.

Terusho takes AkaRei’s second photograph in Hisui (the first one was taken by the Professor, of course): they have just gotten Lord Wyrdeer’s approval and promised aid. They look so small, sat upon the imposing creature’s back, little hands lost in the white beard; they smile brightly as they nuzzle the Lord’s neck.

It comes out beautifully.

AkaRei always smiles when told they are having a picture of them taken. They also sometimes say “cheese!” for no reason. It’s very curious.

Mr. Emmet of the Survey Corps also smiles wider when he notices Terusho is photographing him: he tips his hat, as if to get in a pose of sorts, like he’s used to it. He is surprisingly photogenic, too. He has a special look to him on account of his... Well... His entire face, really.

White of hair and eyes despite not being that old (as far as anybody knows), skin so pale that if he stood in the sun a minute too long he would turn completely red, a long straight nose that jumps out of his profile whenever he turns to the side. He has a certain piercing glare and frozen smile that make him seem unpercievable, yet curious.

(In the photograph of him and AkaRei to celebrate the quelling of Lord Kleavor, despite being forced on the ground by the aching in his bad leg, with that toothy grin and his eyes almost squeezed shut as he raises the triumphant kid's hand in the air declaring them the winner of the battle as if he’d been a mere a spectator and not a helper in it, he looks so friendly.)

It starts only with him, and then it snowballs: Terusho begins stealing secretive photos of the people around them.

It’s by no means new - this is what they do with wild Pokémon. They sneak about with their mechanical eye in hand and snap! A photo is taken without anybody noticing.

But with people it’s different, they think.

Sometimes there’s an expression that paints a face in a special way, and so they scramble silently to capture it before it disappears. Sometimes it’s just a certain way of being, repeated day after day, that when looked at from a slightly different angle turns it into a gorgeous scene.

The Professor stretching after a long day or the Captain resting her eyes a moment as she lays back in her chair. Captain Zisu crouching while she warms up. Beni making mochi batter. The Commander meditating. The Ginko merchants setting up and tucking away their caravan.

The Clans going about their lives.

Their first visit in the Diamond settlement was a year ago, actually - and they were nervous as all get-out about going around with a photocamera, eyed with at best an intense suspicion.

They had not at all expected for the quiet lady to ask for a picture - to be honest, there were so many thing they had not expected, like her apparent recognition of the gadget and quick approach of them with a shine in her eyes as soon as they had met her gaze, let alone for her to very enthusiastically invite them amidst her people's confusion to take a photo, even striking a bit of a pose. It did certainly ease her clansmen about the strange contraption enough for some to accept having pictures taken of them.

Miss Elesa seems to appear breathtakingly beautiful in every one of her photos, and Terusho is just an amateur. Who knows how heightened the effect might be if they were done by a professional.

(Even in the one where she is being helped back down from Lilligant’s arena, tired and pained and so unable to stand on her legs that she is only able to leave because AkaRei carries her on top of Ursaluna, she still flashes the lenses a genial, genuine smile by the child’s side. Her expression makes her eyes too small and her face too round - and yet she is still so pretty.)

They don’t need to hide that they’re taking pictures with her: she is always glad to be their subject or show off some clothing.

Terusho’s parents used to be weavers, working close with Anthe’s family (their child moved to Jubilife with her after all, as if she were their aunt), and when they were little they used to comb through wool and fur and fibers of all sorts to help around, watching as they were turned to vests and robes and coats. They were never too good in that trade - their hands were clumsy with needles and too heavy on the scissors - but they had remained fascinated with handywork all the same, with the ways one could spin thread to sew clothes, carve wood to make tools, melt ore to fabricate blades, mush herbs to produce medicine.

The guildsmen know how to make all sorts of things, of course. They learn quickly too, to the point where Choy jokes that they’ll put Anvin out of work with all the potions they learned to make from him. Not like they didn’t have their own recipies for that sort of thing - but many of the ones for Pokémon had gone lost in a very long oral tradition, as it happens sometimes.

But most of that knowledge is safe, and while not necessarily eager to share it they don’t mind it being documented in pictures if asked politely.

And Terusho is a very polite kid.

They have a way of singing that doesn’t sound like anything else, and they’re very good at making textiles and fabrics and ropes on their long journeys across Hisui, and wooden utensils: they’re great carvers. Must be why their pipes are so... Elegant, for lack of a better word.

Mr. Briosa always plucks hers from her mouth and snuffs it out when she sees kids around her - though once she didn’t notice Terusho in time, and they managed to snap a photo that they think is lovely.

From what they’ve heard she must know a lot about cooking, but they can’t really say they know a lot about her. They know more things about Volo, whom she always hangs around for some reason - probably to pull him along when he starts getting sidetracked while asking a million questions and such, and he said once half-jokingly that he lets her stick to him only because she can make a mean fried Barboach - and Volo is a secretive person himself.

(The closest they’ve ever come to her in a non-commercial context was after AkaRei had handled Lord Arcanine, on the shore of Firespit Island. They took a photo while she was tending to a big burn on the child’s arm: her mouth was perfectly flat, and her eyes wide, like she didn’t expect that. They can still hear her yelling in another language what was unequivocably a swear right after.)

They do know she can throw Volo, who is much taller than her. So. That is certainly something to remember.

Something else they need to remember - the Nobles. They need pictures of them, too.

...To be honest, Terusho doesn’t think they could ever approach any of the Nobles without their wardens around them. Actually, they feel safest when AkaRei is there, rolling around and throwing treats at them in a safer version of the frienzied trials the commander imposed on the kid as if to beat some record.

It’s only partially a matter of fear, though for Terusho that’s obviously the main point; but ignoring the natural scare factor, the main obstacle has more of a religious root. Rather understandably, considering they are holy descendants of blessed beasts, the Pokémon’s wardens are less than keen on having just any stranger come waving some strange device to make sounds and flashes at them for what seems like no good reason. The opinion of the Nobles regarding the camera are also something to take into consideration - some seem curious, others look at it with suspicion; some remain completely neutral to it, or might get frightened once it’s properly in motion.

The wardens tend to relent once informed that the purpose is only documentative, and that it won’t hurt them nor their wards. They still discuss with the Pokémon first, and only officially agree once they’re on board as well.

Terusho likes to photograph both the Nobles and their humans together. On one hand, it serves to show the unusual size of the creatures when compared to others of their own kind, though that’s usually achieved much more easily by putting them side-by-side with specimens grown or caught by AkaRei; on the other, it documents the wardens, their existence, their work. Terusho asks often if they’re allowed to take pictures of how they care for the Nobles, and notes if they’re permitted: this is also part of the research after all, isn’t it? For the betterment of relationships between Humans and Pokémon, one must know how to care for them, no?

Warden Ingo is often happy to dispense his more practical wisdom, if not to just invite them to come with him in Sneasler’s den to show them examples of what he’s talking about. Where others are skittish or focus their explanations on only a few things, he enjoys talking at length and very precisely about every aspect of caring for his ward or her kits - and his own team, too.

His face was awfully familiar when they first met him, what with that long straight nose, those piercing white eyes, the snowy hair, the squalid skin, something in the sharp angles of his mouth. They feel terribly silly for not piecing it all together sooner, but in their defense, neither had anybody else, it seems.

(The photograph Terusho took after his and AkaRei’s succesful quelling of Lord Electrode is gloomier than the other ones. It’s not a matter of lighting, nor because of the warden’s constant frown; it’s the kid’s furrowed expression despite a weak smile, and the bandages being wrapped around them. He made them laugh afterwards, though: so Terusho thinks of that instead.)

Ever since he started spending a lot of time in the training grounds of Jubilife, he’s been eager to explain battle strategies as well, to both them and Zisu, and a few of the Security Corps. They don’t really understand what half of the things he says mean, but they appreciate the effort and enthusiasm.

As for Terusho specifically, they already have a tutor. That’s AkaRei.

It would be much more embarassing if the 8-year-old wasn’t one the most skilled battlers in Jubilife, and also the only one who can explain battles simply enough for someone as hopeless as the professor’s assistant.

But it’s working! Their fear has eased up considerably, Pikachu actually likes them, and they’ve even managed to evolve Mime Jr! Even the prospect of participating in excursions through the various lands of Hisui makes them excited to capture wildlife scenes instead of causing them a stomach ache for the dread and anxiety that used to overtake them. They’re still as cautious as ever, but it feels much less daunting.

The clan leaders speak to them, even. This is something they would have never expected - Terusho is nobody important, let alone someone interesting to speak to - but they come to camp from time to time and greet them politely, asking news from Jubilife or wardens they’ve visited recently while the professor barely manages to tear himself away from his work enough to welcome them. The two of them even asked how the camera works, in a different occasion each - and Terusho did teach them, to the best of their abilities.

(They had to physically guide Adaman’s face closer to the device, as he kept getting further away and trying to squint into the lens, while Irida was so tense in handling the machine that her fingers jerked the focus too quickly, constantly pulling the image out of it. Their skin was rough in different ways, one dusty from remains of sunbaked muds, one harshly carved in by wind and ice, and if Terusho starts thinking about those little photography crash courses they gave them they end up spending the whole day in an embarassed daze, thinking only about their hands and faces and everything.)

(Their first photographs were of Terusho. Of all the subjects they had pointed to the two leaders, both insisted on chosing some Jubilife kid instead. Irida smiled, proud of herself, as she thanked them and apologized if it ended up all blurry despite her attempt at keeping her hand as still as possible; Adaman repeated the click with his tongue and changed pose and framing a few times, as if taking multiple pictures, and laughed sweetly at their bashfulness.)

(Terusho hadn’t had the guts to ask to take a photo of them until after Avalugg had been quelled. Hands clutched tight in AkaRei’s as the kid raised them into the air solemnly, Adaman does his best to fight the shivers that would make him a shaky mess while Irida remains unbothered by the cold. Despite wearing worried faces, they smile at the photographer: Terusho’s heart skips two beats.)

“We are zoologists, my dear!” the professor said when they first complained about the dangers of photographing wild Pokémon. “We aim to discover the secrets of mysterious and strange creatures to understand them! To better our relationship with them!”

Isn’t man too a strange, mysterious creature?

Despite all their works on human subjects, the professor has never chastised them for wasting film. Maybe he understands their fascination with mundane things - with making and washing and sewing, and living and eating and talking.

What Pokémon do - eating and flying and burning and sleeping and shocking and hovering and yawning - it must be mundane for them, too. 

Everything looks so... Weird. Behind the lenses.

The world closes in and focuses on a little piece of itself in perfect clarity. That’s the moment, the place: click! Immortalized.

All is where it should be.

Even the five of them, of all things and people, look in Hisui’s landscapes like Pokéball halves slotted together in a perfect fit.

They call them ‘the Misplaced’ - through time and space, and maybe even fate, why not. This is not where or when they belong, although they’ve molded themselves in the ways of the land enough to be plenty comfortable in it.

Terusho has documented gods and ghosts by now, beasts that tower over houses and others that barely reach their ankles; they’ve stuck them in photographs as they raged in battle with incredible feats of strength and mastery of the elements.

Still, they like above all to capture the subtle differences between the warden and guard while they watch a battle, to pause the forager in the perfect moment as she raises her arm in a certain graceful way, to press onto paper memory the way the merchant’s muscles carve into her skin. To catch the hero of Hisui off guard as they rub the tip of their cold red nose on the back of their hand.

They take one of the four adults as they speak to one another in the Highlands, sitting on the ground in different stances, hands flying; they call for them and they turn, and click! A smile, a frown, a small ‘o’, a perfectly flat mouth. A catalogue of human emotion in one shot.

If they were to count the ones where AkaRei joins them, it might take them a week and a half, both night and day. In part because they’d have to distinguish the from all the other ones with AkaRei, who likes to do what they call a ‘photobomb’ by jumping into frame when they see Terusho ready to take a picture, and whom the older kid likes to amuse by not telling them to move away and letting them pose.

A good number of the ones with their fellow Misplaced feature Mr. Emmet, usually with him holding them in his arms; this is because - as they themself said - he is their favorite one. (This doesn’t seem to happen often, asafter the initial surprise he moved on to bragging to his brother about this for a while.)

The picture that they’ve taken with Miss Elesa which they like the most features both of them showing the lens their tongue, noses all curled from how hard their squinting eyes are shut, index and middle fingers in the shape of a V, the child proudly displaying the badge they just earned on their kimono.

Their best one with Mr. Briosa has them in the middle of being thrown onto a futon. They’re just about to leap off of her bare shoulders and are clearly laughing madly; grinning wide, sarashi and ribs out in the open like nobody’s business, she’s clearly dosing her strength as to not hurl them in the sun.

Warden Ingo doesn’t have much luck with photos despite being as photogenic as his twin - he’s awfully embarassed by them, by his lackluster expressions. But they managed to take a lovely one during a long day, of him sprawled under a tree, the kid resting on him, the both of them snoring peacefully.

There’s a lot more, of course. But aside from a few  that migh interest future historians, and an even smaller part they gladly gift to the four adults, Terusho will probably end up keeping them for themself.

Never to be seen by anybody else. Maybe passed down in the family.

It’s not at all a bad thing.

On the last day the five spend in Hisui, because their return home has finally been granted and they want nothing more, they have two photos taken of them.

The first one has the professor behind the camera. They stand in a nice row for him just before the snowy patch of land preceding the cave that leads up to the peak of the mountain, an artful mismatch of what survived of the clothes that came with them and new garments in place of the uniforms they’ve worn for years or months, looking into the lens for a picture they can’t sign the back of and that they hope to maybe see one day, perhaps in a museum; after it’s done the kid runs into the poor man’s shins and hugs him tight, saying thank you and goodbye as he embraces them back and cries a bit.

They say their goodbyes; they go.

Terusho watches them for a while, until they seem to disappear. A knot in their throat makes their eyes prickle.

It takes a look to get the professor’s undying support as the camera gets almost shoved in their hand, and off they bolt! Their feet are cold and the tips of their socks are a little wet, and thank goodness the Electabuzzes and the Alpha Electivire have taken a vacation today so they don’t have to worry about dodging lightning strikes as they run - there they are, all set to get in the tunnel - wait, wait, hold on, just one, just-

“Hey!”

All five turn towards them.

They stop without reaching them, seeing as the Misplaced don’t continue on their path, instead waiting for them. Their heavy breaths, tired from the sprint, turn into clouds as they leave their mouth.

Terusho raises an arm and waves, smiling.

AkaRei raises both of them and waves back, smiling.

Click!

The Misplaced say one last goodbye to Hisui, arms up in the air caught mid-motion, smiling.

Terusho, professor Laventon’s assistant, the One-Eye Kid, turns around satisfied by a photo nobody will ever care for and walks back to the camp near Moonview Arena, rubbing their cold red nose against the back of their hand.

(”I know this one!” Luce tells their mother, gasping as their hand gently caresses the old glass frame that preserves one of their great-grandparent’s photos from deterioration, and recognizes first and foremost their pijama peeking through the large plush kimono they’re still not done growing into of all things: “Terusho took it right before we came back home!”)

[genesysofthestars]

Day 15

"He gave me how much?!"

"30,000. He actually wanted to give you more but he ran out of budget," Rosa told him, not even bothered by Darrin's surprise.

"Huh?! Wait, that's too much. I only did a simple painting- ow!"

Rosa flicked him in the forehead. "Simple? Darrin, you're underrating yourself again. He said, and I quote, that if he didn't know better, he would think that the painting was made by a pioneer artist, not a student." She then questioned, "How much are you expecting anyway?"

"Like... 5 to 10 thousand?"

She gave him an unimpressed look, making Darrin wilt. "Wow," she muttered. "I know artists here are underpaid but to think that you would undercharge like that... Listen, artists are treasured on the other side because cameras, no matter what adjustments they made, cannot work there. They said it's because of the intense magic aura interfering with normal lenses. So... the next thing we got is artists."

Rosa shoved the envelope full of money into his hands. "Now take the money-"

Darrin opened his mouth to speak.

"And don't think of give it some to me; I know that look."

He closed his mouth. But he continued to be in deep thought. Soon enough, Darrin grabbed Rosa's hands and declared, "At least let me take you out!"

"Huh?!" It was now Rosa's turn to be surprised, even blushing a little. "Like a date?!"

"Yes! I mean, no, not like that-"

--

"You showed me your favorite restaurant. It's my turn to show mine."

Rosa let herself be led by Darrin to a small establishment. Immediately upon opening the door, the smell of cooked meat bombarded her nose.

Darrin wasted no time ordering food. "I'll have a medium-well steak and..."

"Same as yours. Just medium-rare," she follwed up.

"I always come here every week," Darrin told her as they took their seat by the window. "A little reward for myself for surviving the college, even if it's a bit expensive."

When their food arrived, Rosa's mouth wasn't able to stop itself from watering just from looking at it. The meat was swimming in sauce alongside a heaping serving of potatoes and vegetables. The scent was amazing; the smoky aroma tingled her nose.

But Rosa waited for Darrin to take the first bite.

"Hmm...?"

"Something's wrong?" she asked.

He looked at his meal with confusion. "No... it's just the taste it's not like what I remembered. Did they change the recipe?"

Before Darrin could question further, Rosa took his plate and replaced it with hers. "Here. Try this."

Darrin gave her a curious (cute) look but trusted her words. He took a bite and the familiar flavor hit his tongue. "This is the exact taste. Did our orders get switched?"

Rosa shook her head. "Nope. Your taste had adjusted, remember?"

"Oh. Oh, that... makes sense. That's why you order medium-rare instead..." he said. "You are really the smartest person that I know, Rosa. Going so far to think ahead of that. Thank you."

She blushed at his words. She coughed, "It's nothing... Now let's eat before it gets cold."

Rosa watched as Darrin ate with a smile. Seeing him quite happy, zhe couldn't help but smile too. Before he noticed that she was staring at him, she began eating as well.

Realization hit her when the flavor hit her tongue. The soft meat was filled with flavor, juice brusting after every bite and the potatoes absorbed some of the sauce, making it both creamy and savory. The vegetables were also seasoned enough, its freshness balancing the oily aftertaste of the meat.

"I can see why you love it here."

"I know! You should try it with some of their sauce..."

--

"Hey, Darrin."

"Hm?"

"Y'know the one who commission you while back?"

"What about him...?"

"Well, his master is so impressed by your art; he got scolded for giving you so little. So he's giving you an extra 25 thousand..."

"What?!"

[xshatteredreflectionsx]

Morgan seems to be busy reviewing photos on their camera, but it's interrupted when something small bumps against their right leg, then gives a low ruff to get their attention. Barnum is looking expectantly up at them, complete with a wag of his tail. Damien is close behind, but he opts to say nothing now as the preferred friend made his appearance first, instead watching on with amusement. (blueheartedmayor)

To say that Morgan was a perfectionist would be an understatement. The fact that this was literally their livelihood aside, they held themself to an incredibly high standard. They had to, considering they were competing with every other photographer in the county (it wasn’t really that dramatic. They were on good terms with a few of their contemporaries; chatting about their favorite lenses and locations and unreasonable commissioners and so forth).  The sudden, insistent bump to their calf and the accompanying bark broke Morgan out of their stupor. They were entranced the second they looked down and saw Barnum’s little face- because it was Barnum. With his li’l heart-shaped nose, and wiggly butt and stumpy widdle legs- 

Ahem. 

Morgan knew better than to assume that Barnum was just out on his own. Damien would fight an entire army with his bare hands for his dog; no way in hell he was out by himself.  Barnum cocked his head to the side, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Barnum could give Chica a run for her money (She could never know. The destruction she would unleash would be cataclysmic). Photographing animals was a entirely different beast compared to still life shots or staged wedding photos. Six out of ten they were the absolute worst to work with, but Barnum was the goodest boy. One picture wouldn’t hurt.  It was a testament to Barnum being raised well that he didn’t immediately dive for Morgan’s lap the instant they were on their knees. Their tongue poked out from between their lips as they adjusted and re-adjusted the focus (this light wasn’t going to last forever; make it count). Click.

Oh yeah. That was a good one. Maybe they could convince Damien to let them blow it up so he could hang it in his office. 

[pantherinaeee]

trust the mirror, not the cameras - megathread part 1

in r/infp i posted some screenshorts from videos, saying that i look better in screenshots than in selfies. here are the coments...

XXX:

I thought that was a common thing?

PANTHERINAEE:

idk, some people are so photogenic that, in motion, they don't even look like themselves... maybe it's my case too haha but I really have to make a big effort to take a selfie

XXX:

motion seems to somewhat cover some of my defects, so being able to cherrypick a frame from a video usually provides a better image of me than from taking an actual selfie . maybe it is like that for you too.

PANTHERINAEE:

I actually attribute it to a few things. Firstly, our facial expressions! When we communicate, it's extremely unconscious and spontaneous, so it captures our vibe and personality better. When I take a selfie, I get tense and may seem serious, while in real life I'm quite cheerful and 'cute' (many refer to me that way). Another issue is the distortion caused by lenses. I studied cinema, so I easily recognize distortion, haha. Lenses that distort less have a tighter 'frame,' meaning you need to be 2 to 5 meters away from the camera to take a picture of your face. Just imagine how much a cellphone camera needs to distort the image to take a close-up photo. On top of this, my 'flaws' are precisely a wide nose and a receding chin, while lens distortion tends to enlarge the nose and reduce the chin/cheeks/head, lol. The lenses I use on my camera also cause distortions, but since I'm further away, the effect is reduced. Lastly, there's the fact that I'm not photogenic. Often, people stop me on the street to take photos, but my immediate reaction is to be like this: 😟 and not know what to do, haha

XXX:

Makes sense. I hadn’t thought of it that way. Surely there is some science behind people looking better in screenshotted video images than selfie pictures, yeah. I like the thought you put into this. Have you also thought about why some people seem to look better in the mirror than in videos or selfies? I wonder why that is

PANTHERINAEE:

That's exactly why I have several videos talking about this. People have been seeking aesthetic procedures and their self-esteem has been terrible because they think they are what they see on camera, when they are who they see in the mirror. The camera has the ability to see what the eyes do not. You take a photo and there's a wrinkle bothering you, so you go to an aesthetician and it magically disappears because your eye isn't seeing 4K pixels and you don't live under strong lighting. My last video on this topic was because I took a photo and started noticing that my bangs weren't flattering me, so I look in the mirror next to it and suddenly I have much more hair volume on my head than it seemed. The reason is logical: the camera enlarges the center of your face and makes the edges narrower, taking away all the volume from the hair and making us look bald. Impulsive people go and change their haircut because they look too much at screens and too little at the mirror. Never make a decision based on cell phone photos. Recently, I started using old cameras in my videos like Canon Powershot or even Cybershot. When I record with a cellphone, I add grain and a bit of blur. People may think I want to change my appearance since they always criticize those who use filters, when these filters correct problems created by the camera. Your real nose isn't the nose of the camera; there it looks much bigger. Your real nose is the one in the mirror, but you can't share that, so if you feel insecure, I think it's better to use a filter, being aware that you are the person in the mirror. I'm all for filters and edits, not to look like something you're not, but to not feel bad about what you're not. Cell phones even distort lighting with their automatic adjustments, and it doesn't always look good. To make this clearer, ask someone to take a close-up photo of your face and then step back to take one from farther away; you'll see exactly what I'm saying

XXX:

that's interesting then. I figured, of course with no real knowledge on the subject, that in the mirror i looked better because i was able to somehow position myself in such a way as would flatter me specifically, subconsciously i supposed, and my eyes and brain would somehow correct that image in the mirror to look the way i wanted it to, or at least there would be some familiarity which would aid in my feeling that i am better looking in the mirror, whereas a camera "wouldn't lie" and if i happened to look uglier on camera it would be because i simply am uglier in general, but now i see that that is not the case. sorry for my obtuse writing style, sometimes it is the only way i can get my thoughts out. from the way you talk about how cameras work i can tell you are passionate about the subject, and it makes me become interested in it as well. thanks for your comment.

PANTHERINAEE:

I'm not even fluent in English so I would never care about that 😅 if it seemed weird, I would just think I wasn't able to translate well.

I've seen many people talking about edits and filters and I think that's wrong, so I've been pressing a lot on the distortion done by the camera. For years I thought I was ugly because of it 🥺 often I saw other girls' hair in photos and decided to cut mine, then it looked awful, and when I met them in person, it was never the same, so I realized it was hair that only looked good in photos.

My mom took a visagism course that suggested taking a photo of the face for facial analysis, so I informed her about it and asked her to photograph me with different lenses to show her. The difference was drastic! But everyone is at such a high level of unconsciousness that even the course teacher couldn't realize it wasn't a good technique hahah

XXX:

Filters are fair game in my opinion, obviously there is a point where a filter changes how you look like drastically, but using a filter isnt immoral nor is it even shitty, so if they make you feel better about your pictures you might as well use them. Your english reads perfectly btw, im surprised that you aren’t fluent in it. Where are you from?

PANTHERINAEE:

I'm Brazilian! I can understand English well and communicate reasonably, but I usually translate texts with ChatGPT because I'm quite insecure.

I find filters really cool because they originated in more spontaneous social networks, like Snapchat, so you don't have to prepare to appear on the internet or worry about looking tired if you want to share something, lol. Besides, many filters are fun.

I also believe we should train our brains to recognize reality and fantasy ☺️ an important attribute for us INFPs, btw.

(...)

[shristi24]

Reading week : "Language of the Lens"

It’s important to understand how lenses work not just for the cameraperson but also the director, and the effect they can create to enhance the story. Cinematic techniques are steps taken intentionally to add meaning to the shots, in which lenses play a major role, hence why the director is heavily involved. When we try to capture the 3D world into the 2D film world, it can become quite flat, a great way to bring back the depth is to break it down into foreground, middle-ground and background. Step 1 is always to place the camera in relation to the subject, then you decide how much the subject is going to take up the frame, which is done by the selecting of lens. Lenses in the normal range portray the depth relationships of objects in a way fairly close to human vision. If a lens is wider than normal, then depth is exaggerated. The psychological impact is that it creates, space that is expanded, creating a greater sense of being involved for the audience. This is usually what a filmmaker wants to achieve, however, the wider the lens there is more distorted the images can be. Longer focal lengths are good for portraits but if the face is to the lens then distortion of the nose and eyes will increase.

A wide frame is very spacious and may consist of long leading lines and paths, as a metaphor for the story of the film being about uncertainty about the future or a film about unplanned discovery, the frame explains the entire story. It is also good for creating feelings of emptiness, a sense of lost, alienation, power and more. Simply from the excess space in the frame. A long focal lens or telephoto lens has less sense of space, it's more claustrophobic as things seem closer. It can make you feel like you are a part of the scene, good for portraits, and also great for slow motion, however, someone who doesn't understand the concept of slow motion may think something has technically gone wrong. A normal lens can distract by focusing on the background too, a long lens keeps the background out of focus. Lack of depth can be used for selective focus shots, to isolate the subject, by using shallow depth of field. Rack focus is when you change focus from one thing to another. This is a really cool focus move when done correctly with the right equipment, however, if not it can look off. Older lenses create a softer quality, a look that can't be created by editing. Soft image is favoured, especially for women or for a dreamlike effect

Eye-level shots can be boring or eye-level shots can also ask the viewer to be part of the scene. You need to have a clear purpose for using this level, or else it can look bad very quickly. Above-eye-level shots can make it seem like the audience is dominating as the character has less value.  It’s very good for showing buildings and structures in a bird's eye view way. A low angle makes the character look important powerful or even frightening, it also helps us to follow along with the character. A Dutch tilt is when it’s placed at a particular angle purposely that is visually off usually to create anxiety or mystery. Because humans can very quickly tell when something is off visually. 

[hectormcfilm]

The Language of Lenses

These are my notes on this chapter from Cinematography: theory and practice: image-making for cinematographers and directors.

The Language of lenses is a lot more important in the world of  cinema then most general audiences would realise, the lens controls how the audience sees the cinematic world, how it renders the image creates its own visual story.

The key aspects of lens are: Perspective, compression and expansion, contrast, soft/hard.

When framing something you must consider whether it will be in the foreground, midground or background. Hitchcock believed the importance of an object should be reflected by its size and focus in a frame.

Wide lenses: with a wider lens depth perception is exaggerated, objects can appear wider and farther apart then in reality. Wider lenses are best for close up shots as they help fill the frame. However you can easily create distortion with this technique as eyes and noses can end up seeming further apart then in reality. Wide lenses also help things seem further away in the background, messing with depth of field. Deep focus is the next step of this tool, helping backgrounds seem larger scale complimenting what’s in the foreground. For example, close ups of Kane in Citizen Kane help him seem large, reflecting his power and status and the deep focus allows us to see him as a child in the background playing.

Long focal length: this technique has the opposite effects of wide lenses compressing space instead of expanding it, this can help with creating a claustrophobic feel and making an object seem closer then it is. This is a very useful techniques for fight scenes as it makes everything seem closer and more dangerous, a speeding bus can narrowly miss a child on film when in reality they were a safe distance apart, it is all a part of perspective and depth of field. Long lenses are not helpful for slow motion shots as the two almost counter act each other and make the subject look like they aren’t moving at all.

Many 16mm film and HD cameras have a depth of 35mm making it more difficult to use techniques like selective focus or shallow depth of field. Rack focus can be used on these camera still- rack focus is when during one scene the focus will switch radically from something in the foreground to something in the background or in front of the original object. Some rules with these types of focus: Focus goes to the person speaking to the person facing the camera, to the person experiencing the most dramatic or emotional moment narratively. For camera workers they know actors by the number they are assigned on the call sheet and the safest bet is to focus on the person with the lowest number, e.g. 1 is the lead role.

Before the 80s the idea of only focusing on certain objects or purposefully leaving something out of focus was strange for photographers and wasn’t a known technique. It is a very post modern style of filmmaking.

Many modern cameras are sharp so filmmakers use filtration to make faces seem softer and prettier.

Varying shot heights can tell a lot about the story, variation from the conventional eye level shots need a solid reason or an overuse could feel nauseating or strange, one good example is the low angle shots used to frame Radio Raheem’s heigh in Do The Right Thing. Opposingly, high angle shots can be used to present the subject as small and weak, the camera looming over them in a dominant position.

[infernalodie]

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵“

Inspo: Post Malone - Reputation

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Black!Male!reader

Requested: 🚨🦇

(I am so sorry this took long, love!)

Summary: You have a reputation that you wanted to wipe clean.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and character death.

Words 3358

Natasha still remembers the day that Fury had found your location after a year since your disappearance. You were settled in Dubai. The city that had been evacuated from the lack of water supply over the past couple of years. The city was a wasteland with only very few thousands still staying there.

But Fury had sent in agents to bring you in, hoping that after your mistakes when the Winter Soldier was causing problems, perhaps you might’ve been knocked free from the mind control. Which then raised the question as to why and how were you in Dubai? Not to mention; how the hell were you surviving in that heat when there was no water and no food? It was a wonderful place to never be seen again, but also one of the first places people are going to look.

Besides that, Natasha still remembers watching the camera feeds of the agents arriving at the Burj Khalifa with you sitting out front with AA-12 resting on your lap. Skin burning under the sun with your head bowed.

“Command, this is Agent Watannabe,” Agent Watanabe stated, getting out of the humvee. “I think we found him.”

You slowly raised your head, revealing the scarring across the left side of your face. From the Agent’s point of view, it was hard for them to tell if it was chemical burns or natural. But if they knew anything from your files, it must’ve been HYDRA’s doing.

Standing to your feet, you gripped the automatic shotgun tight in your grasp. “Captain Y/L/N.”

“He’s armed!” Another Agent called out, causing the rest of them to raise their weapons in defence. But despite this, you showed no emotion to deter your slow approach towards them.

“Hold your fire!” Watanabe called out, raising a hand. “Seize fire!”

Natasha could see that look in your eyes. The hollowness to it as you stared right into the camera- right at her. Piercing every corner of her soul. It was haunting, to say the least as you slowly turned your head to Watanabe.

“Sir, we are here to help get you home,” Watanabe stated, taking a shuffling step towards you. “But first, you need to lay down your firearm.”

“He’s not complying.”

“Give him a moment!” Watanabe hissed. “It has to be shell-shock or something. Captain, hand me your-”

Before the Agent could finish, his throat closed up as his eyes widened, blood filling the orbs as a sudden agonizing headache appeared. The others were experiencing the same thing as they stumbled, battling to stay on their own two feet. Some stumbled to the ground with screams falling from their lips before silence. But Natasha watched as you slowly stepped toward Watanabe, noticing your hand shaking by your side before you clenched it. Watanabe screamed before she heard a loud pop and blood covering the lens of the bodycam.

Her jaw sat slack as she heard the sound of scuffling before the camera shook. A dirty hand wiping the blood from the lense with your charred face being revealed. Those hollow eyes pierced her emerald green ones as your nose twitched. Ivory skin beading with sweat with your lips wobbling. Not of sorrow or any sympathetic emotion, only pure anger. An uncontrollable rage she knew only would destroy the strongest humans from the inside. You may be a legend, but not even legends could survive personal torture like that.

But something about the way your eyes held no light, no happiness, no emotion besides rage that made your next sentence send shivers down her spine. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dubai.” And like that, you smashed the camera.

Since then, since the day she finally met you in person and convinced you to come with her, something had changed. Sure, your distance and hollowness were still very much there, but you showed a side to her she never expected. When others saw your deadpan and genuine anger at having someone talk to you, she saw your broken smile when the both of you were alone.

And that was no different when she could hear your screams in the middle of the night. She’d always scramble out of bed, walking right across the hall where your room was. Entering to find you with your knife, eyes frantic with rapid breaths falling from your lips. Your caramel-toned body dripping sweat as your chest rose and fell repeatedly. Her soothing voice and words would be enough to have you lowering your weapon and falling into her arms. Warm tears wetting her shirt as the both of you would sleep there on your bed, her arms softly wrapped around you.

Those were the times you allowed her in to see you for who you were. But outside of those nights, you were constantly drinking and smoking. Short-tempered and willing to lose it on anyone that tried to ruin your drunken state. Even if a Norse god suggested for you to go to bed and sleep.

“Mortal Y/n, maybe you should go to sleep.” When the blonde touched your shoulder, you grabbed the neck of the bottle and hit the god in the head with it. The action did nothing to the man, who stood there unbothered, sighing.

“How about you go fuck yourself, goldie locks.” You gruffly barked with a slight hiccup, reaching over the bar and grabbing another bottle of Whiskey. Grabbing your joint from the ashtray, you took a drag before placing it back down. Blowing the smoke into the open air as Tony, Steve, and Natasha entered the room.

They all quickly noticed the multitude of bottles scattered in front of you and the shattered pieces at Thor’s feet. The god shook his head, walking away as Steve approached you. “Y/n, maybe you should-”

Before he could finish, he blinked rapidly as his body was overcome with a cold shiver. He held his head as he leaned against the bar with a groan. You took a sip from the bottle, turning your head to the man with a sigh. “Leave me alone, Steve. I don’t want to put you through this table.”

Tony glanced at Natasha before he lowered his voice and ordered Jarvis. “Jarvis, ready security shutdown.”

“Already done, sir,” Jarvis replied.

“Y/n, please stop-”

“Where were you, Steve? Hm?” You interjected your friend, standing up from your stool. “Where were you when she was killed?”

“I was with her.”

“Did you try to save her?” You whispered as the super-soldier groaned, trying to stay on his feet. His head weighed a ton, dizzy and unbridled as the blood was rushing to his skull like a broken dam. Grabbing him by the collars of his shirt, you yelled, “Did you try to save her?!”

“Y/n!” Natasha yelled, earning your gaze. When you did meet her eyes, she may not have said it, but the look she gave you was a pleading one. Begging you to show some mercy despite whatever you and Steve were referring to. And because one half of your heart belonged to her and the other stuck in history, you couldn’t help but fall under her command.

Letting go of Steve with a shove and seizing your powers, you sat back down with a heavy glare directed into open space. Steve blinked harshly, trying to regain his bearings as Tony helped the man as he looked at Natasha. “Get your boyfriend to bed, now.”

She sighed, watching the pair walk past her as she proceeded towards you. Careful to not step off any alarms in your head that may result in her having to defend herself. “What are you doing, Y/n?”

Pursing your lips, you lifted the bottle. “Drinking, Nat.” Taking a sip of the drink you sighed. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you need to sleep.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” you huffed. “I just need to forget or get out in the field.”

Natasha knew that there were only two places you were ever normal. On a mission or in your bed asleep with her by your side. Those were the two places Natasha had been able to see you smile and laugh. They were a rarity nowadays and almost nonexistent with how much your drunken, rageful behaviour substituted them out. And on a mission, you were focused on what you were doing. If it was against HYDRA, she saw you lose your cool sometimes. Primarily the one time you and the rest of the Avengers stormed a base and she found you put a bag over a soldier's head before smashing it in with the shield Steve had gotten made for you.

There was no doubt in her mind that the rage was connected to what they had done to you. Making you a hybrid super human that had been made to kill people for HYDRA. And when the both of you laid up at night, holding one another, you told her you were prideful of the things you and Steve did in the army. How revenge for Bucky’s disappearance didn’t make you go to the end of the earth to kill HYDRA soldiers. But now, it seemed like that had flipped on its head.

“You said you weren’t motivated by revenge,” Natasha pointed.

���I am motivated by my duty,” you replied.

“No.” She shook her head. “I think you are so blinded by rage that you can’t tell your friends from your enemies. I think it’s time you sleep.”

Your lips parted, eyes flickering up to the godly woman. She wouldn’t admit it, but some part of her was scared of you. Nat knew you wouldn’t hurt her if you allowed her in as much as you did, but the fire behind your eyes scared her. The possibilities of what you could do were practically endless, which was why she had talked to Tony about possibly “backup plans” for you.

Nose twitching as you grabbed the bottle and stood up beginning to walk away. But not leaving before you grabbed another stool and tossed it across the room. It hit a wall and destroyed the wooden furniture, causing Natasha to flinch.

“Who were you two talking about?” Was the first thing Natasha questioned Steve when she entered the kitchen.

The Super soldier glanced over his shoulder at the woman. “Did you get him in bed?” He deflected, as per usual when it came to questions surrounding you.

“Steve, answer the question, now.” She spat sternly as the man sighed, bracing his hands against the counter.

Inhaling deeply, Steve stood up and faced Natasha. “Ada, his wife.”

Natasha frowned, about to speak, but he continued. “He never told you about her because he very rarely brings her up anymore,” he answered. “They were married before he joined up with me. But she was there when I flew the plane into the water. She died and I didn’t.”

She’d never seen the records that you had been married to anyone. Only your lease with Bucky when you two lived in Brooklyn. But this was a curve ball she never expected. Except, it did explain quite a lot of your distance, besides the trauma you experienced from the war and what HYDRA did to you.

You were a puzzle that no matter how far she could get, she would never be able to fully uncover. She knew this, but she wanted you to help her understand most of who you were. Natasha never expected a lot from you when it came to your emotions. You were unstable at certain points, but you weren’t fully gone.

So, when she entered your quarters unannounced, she found you staring at a photo. The right corner of it burned with the rest folded and creased. But the image of her, Ada, was still intelligible.

“Is that Ada?” The mention of the woman had your body tensing, feeling the heavy gaze from Natasha burning through your body.

“I’m guessing Steve told you then, huh?” You murmured, never taking your eyes off the woman in the picture.

Natasha stepped further into your room, slowly approaching you. “He told me enough to know most of the story,” she said. “Y/n, I know what it feels like to-”

“Nat-” Your voice was sudden and abrupt as the rain outside the window stopped. The droplets floated in the air as your body shook. “-you are treading on some mighty thin ice right now. Drop it.” You ordered.

“I’m sorry about your wife Y/n, but I’ve lost people too.” She replied.

“You have no idea what loss is.” The windows began to tremble under the pressure of rain droplets suddenly pushing against the glass. You now faced her, eyes glaring daggers at her as she continued to stand her ground.

Stepping towards you, she said, “Everyone I have ever cared for, has either died or left me.” She stood face to face with you, eyes green, but still holding some type of flame to them. Able to put you out in a matter of seconds. “I have never loved anyone as I-” She shoved you back, sending your back into the windows. “-have loved you!”

You stared at her in shock as her eyes clouded up in tears. “I have lost people. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a boyfriend or girlfriend. But what I do know is I don’t want to be the victim of it if you kill yourself with the alcohol!”

There was a momentary silence where the two of you just stood there. You are in a state of shock and Natasha is in an emotional breakdown, having reached her breaking point with you. But you were still caught up in the fact that she just admitted she loved you. Someone as dangerous, but incredibly sweet as Natasha loved you.

“I love you.” Natasha’s eyes widened at the sound of your statement. “I’ve loved you since I met you, Nat. When you came barging into that abandoned penthouse, I knew then that I loved you.” A shaky breath fell from your lips. “But every time I look at you, I feel like I am staring right at her. You look so much like her and it’s hard for me.”

Right as you fell into tears, Natasha was holding you to her chest. Face stuffed in the centre of her chest as you fell to your knees. Arms wrapped around her waist as sobs fell from your lips. But through it all, Natasha was right there to hold you.

Stroking your head, she placed a kiss on your forehead. Cupping your cheek and stroking her thumb over your cheekbone. “No matter what, I’m not leaving you, okay?” You nodded, continuing to weep into her chest. “We have all the time in the world to make this work.

“Are the people evacuated?” You questioned, deflecting a blast from an Ultron bot and tossing your shield, decapitating the bot. Catching it again, you walked through the destroyed streets of Novi Grad. Buildings were dilapidated and the streets were choked up with cars and rubble.

“We have everyone!” Steve announced. “Are you almost at the trigger?”

“Arriving now.” You swiped a hand over your face from the dust that covered your caramel skin. Making your way towards the Doomsday Trigger, you spotted Wanda. “You got my back for a sec, kid?” You asked, grabbing a bot and crushing its head in your hand.

She gave a quick nod and continued to use her magic to destroy the Ultron bots. You crouched beside the Doomsday Trigger and began working at the mechanism closely.

There were a few minutes before you quickly realized the problem you were now faced with. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Wanda still standing guard. No sign of Ultron bots approaching. Only the engine is left to disengage and lower Sokovia.

Standing to your feet, you faced Wanda. “Steve, are you sure everyone is on the lifeboats?” You asked, eyes flickering to the witch who turned to you.

“They are, but how are you with the trigger?” He asked and you exhaled heavily.

“Jarvis, create a private channel.” There was a pause before you spoke again. “I can’t shut it down on a timer.” You told your friend.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked in a hushed down.

“I mean I can do it manually, but it’s not going to give us the result we want. There won’t be lowering this city safely,” you explained. “It’s going to fall and someone has to be on here to make sure that it keeps going until this trigger is destroyed.”

He knew what you were getting at, but he had waited so long to finally find you that it hurt knowing that he would lose you all over again. Steve worked for months to find you in Dubai and he’s still working to find Bucky. Two of his best friends were found but still lost.

A small laugh fell from your lips. “Don’t tell me not to do this, Steve,” you said. “You flew that plane into the water. I’m flying this rock into the ground.”

Again, a small pause of silence filled the air as Steve sighed. “It was a pleasure fighting by your side, Captain.” He said as you laughed.

“You too, Steven.”

Lowering your hand from your earpiece, you looked to the witch. “Get outta here, kid. I got the rest.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, stepping towards you.

Instead of answering her question, you smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Despite you getting inside my head and making me want to rip your heart out, I appreciate the sacrifice you made today.” You smiled, about to turn, but you stopped. “Also, look after them for me, all right? Now get out of here.”

The girl was speechless and was unsure of how to respond as you crouched down beside the trigger and began working at the wires carefully. But she felt a small smile pull at the corners of her lips before she started running in the direction of the lifeboats.

When you heard she got off the rock, you grabbed two wires and sighed. “Here goes nothing.” Pulling them together, you heard everything stop. And then, the rock began to fall. The rubble around you began to lift up into the air, along with your body. But you grabbed your shield and stabbed it into the ground, holding it with one arm and your hand holding the two electrical cords together.

“Patch me through to Natasha.”

“Understood, sir.” Friday connected you to the redhead who stopped in her tracks when hearing Friday announce that you were reaching out for her.

Pressing her finger to her earpiece, she sighed. “Y/n, where are you? I haven’t spotted you on the-” Natasha tried, but you cut her off.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You called over the howling wind. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever said it enough to show you how much I mean it.”

“Y/n, where are you?” Natasha asked again, but your silence was enough to answer her question. “Oh, God. Please, don’t.”

“I’m not going to die here without you knowing that I have loved you and I don’t regret a single moment in my life that led me to you,” you told her. “My life would’ve been hopeless without you, Natasha.”

Natasha was standing at the edge of the Hellicarrier, tears streaming down her cheeks as she let out a sob. “If only we had more time.”

You smiled faintly, eyes flickering behind you to the sight of the ground quickly approaching.

“You have all the time in the world.”

She watched as Novi Grad hit the ground, creating a loud boom to shoot through the air. Her eyes stared downward as she sobbed out your name over and over again. Pleading for some sort of saviour to have spared you such a death. But as the moments passed, she realized the loss they had taken.

The loss she had taken.

[alwaysmarveling]

To Be Seen

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Warnings: Hints at neglect

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: All superpowers seem to have a downside to them. Invisibility is no exception.

You got your first pair of glasses when you turned seven. The black frames were a birthday present of sorts. You had your eye set on a transparent blue pair, or honestly any of the many colorful options that lined the shelves, but your mother had grabbed the black ones without a word to you and placed them on the counter. Then the two of you went home, back to the always busy house, buzzing with the sounds of your siblings’ chatter and the television that entertained your constantly preoccupied father. There was no cake, no other presents, not even a “congratulations” or a “happy birthday,” but that was okay. That was okay because you had already gotten the gift of sight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself that night, your younger sister already sound asleep beside you while you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shapes taped to the ceiling. The glasses turned the green fuzzy blobs into actual stars, their points clear and easily counted as you drifted off to sleep with the lenses still on. “You can see now.”

---

You found out you could make yourself invisible on the day you hit ten years old. When you woke up, the first thing you did was look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see if you looked any different from the day before, when you were nine. Double digits should mean double the change, right? But there was no change from when you weren’t in the mirror to when you were. 

At first, you thought it must’ve been a prank from your older brother, but one look in the bathroom mirror told you that this was something else. It took you about half an hour before you somehow managed to become visible again, but when you did, you walked into the kitchen to find everything the same as it was the night before. No one hung streamers around the house or left a card on the counter, but that was okay. That was okay because you had a gift.

---

On your twenty-seventh birthday, you were recruited to be an Avenger. Three years ago on that exact day, you had quit your office job and joined SHIELD, only as a trainee, but you made your way through the ranks. You had the advantage of a mastered superpower—turning invisible came useful on the countless days you wished the world would just swallow you whole—but you still had to learn to use it like an agent. You were never remarkable, never being praised as the top of your class nor critiqued as one of the worst. You were always in the middle. Always just… there.

But Fury had seen something in you, and now here you were, packing your things to move into the Avengers Tower. You honestly weren’t sure what he saw in you; no one did. There were other SHIELD agents with far more useful powers and much better combat skills, yet he had picked you and no one else, making you the third SHIELD agent to join the Avengers since Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

You looked around the empty apartment, scanning for something you and your imperfect vision might have missed, but saw nothing. Was that what others saw when they looked at you, thinking they had packed the whole room while you were standing right in front of them, arms waving in their face and voice begging for them to acknowledge you? No matter. Fury had told you Natasha would be picking you up at 2, meaning you had just over thirty minutes before she got here. Life moved on, and so would you.

Just like in years prior, there were no claps on the back, shiny bows, or patterned gift wrapping, but that was okay. That was okay because you had gotten the gift to protect and serve others.

---

You laid into the punching bag, twenty-eight non-stop uppercuts for your new age as of today. You brushed one hand across your forehead to interrupt the sweat droplets that ran from your hair, Bruce doing his best to praise you in the meantime.

“Good work, Y/N, yeah. Um, stronger than the ones you’ve been doing in the past. Better form too. I think.” You were sure you weren’t meant to hear his last sentence, but a roll of Natasha’s eyes next to you was enough to make you laugh it off. It wasn’t like you could blame him. Training others wasn’t his forte. You weren’t even sure if he trained himself.

Fury’s interest in you had been short-lived, it seemed. To be fair, you were lucky he recruited you in the first place and even luckier that he let you stay on the team. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in how you turned out to just be a new puppy to him. With your novelty now wearing off, you became the responsibility of people like Bruce, who never quite wanted you in the first place.

You had nothing against the gentle and kindhearted scientist, but Steve, Nat, or even Clint would’ve been much more obvious choices. Yet somehow the scientist was who Fury appointed. Maybe he was just the only one who accepted the task, the only one not bold enough to deny Fury’s orders outright. Strangely enough, Nat always showed up, but you weren’t entirely sure why, seeing as she usually sat there silently for most of it. She’d occasionally lean in to whisper something to Bruce, but she rarely said anything to you.

Much to Bruce’s—and maybe Natasha’s—relief, Tony strutted into the gym, his charisma already filling in the awkward gaps between you guys that never seemed to disappear, no matter how much time passed.

“Bruce, Nat, just the people I was looking for! It was great to see you guys at the party last night.” You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose before going back to the punching bag; obviously, he was not here to speak with you. As you beat into the bag, getting lost in the rattling of the chain and the rhythm of the combinations, you thought back to last night, when you heard the Avengers’ laughter as they prepared for the gala.

-

You sat in the living room watching a movie with the tiniest but fiercest hope that someone might see you and ask you to come along. This was a party for the Avengers, after all, to celebrate the success of a mission that you had been part of. It had been up to you to cut the power and incapacitate the leader. Somehow the credit had gone to Clint, all the news stations celebrating the archer and his amazing feat. It was fine, whatever, just another chip to brush off of your shoulder—a teeny, tiny chip, really, honestly probably more of a scratch—but you thought you would’ve at least been invited to the party. Yet there you were, your posture slowly drooping as you sank into the leather sofa while your teammates gathered in the elevator to head up to the party. You had taken your phone out and opened the camera app, checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow triggered your invisibility, but, nope, you were very much there. The tears that fell were very much there.

-

“Alright, Tony, I’ll be there for Movie Night tonight, but you gotta go. I need to get back to my training duties.” It was then that Tony finally seemed to realize your presence, turning around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. You, um, you should come tonight too.” All of his charm was gone, the relaxed smile only hanging on by the tiniest lift of the corner of his mouth. So you did your best to reassure him with a small nod. The smile came back immediately. All was well; Tony Stark does indeed have a heart.

-

Later that night, as you sat alone on the three-person couch, you drew the blankets closer to you. The same movie you had watched last night was playing on the TV. The original plan had been to watch Jaws, but Sam was delighted to find the DVD box to Space Jam on the coffee table, insisting that he’d been wanting to watch it again and how it was such a coincidence it was already out. He wasn’t saying that last night when you asked if anyone wanted to watch it with you, but at least you weren’t watching it alone this time. You looked around at the small groups the Avengers had formed on the other couches, some of them even sitting on the floor—there wasn’t enough space, you guessed—before letting out a sigh. There were no party hats or festive noisemakers, but that was okay. That was okay because… A tap on your knee brought you back to the present moment. You looked down to find the outstretched arm of a familiar redhead, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

There was no time for wallowing in self-pity. That was okay. You were okay.

---

The harsh sunlight woke you up in time for your thirtieth birthday. Or maybe it was the stiff and lumpy mattress that did it. Either way, you were hoping you’d be able to sleep through it. The rational side of you knew that wasn’t possible—what with being on the run from the US government and all—but one can always hope, right?

You’d stuck with Natasha during the Avengers’ split, pushing for the team to stay together even though you’d never really been part of the team. It wasn’t about you though; you’d seen the amazing things the Avengers could do when they were together. The world needed them.

Well, that line of thinking got you here, in a small cabin in the woods with all the Avengers who had followed Steve, Natasha joining the group later. Happy birthday to you. Although to be fair, it wasn’t like any of your past birthdays had been much better. Once your childish naivety had faded away (which probably took much longer than it should have), the day became something you dreaded, something you hoped each year you would forget about but never quite could. This time, though, you had a small plan. It was going to be different this year.

-

Your knees cracked as you stood, announcing to no one in particular that you were heading off to bed. Rather than heading straight down the hall to your room, though, you cut through the kitchen and grabbed a few things.

Your shoulders dropped slightly as you closed the door, and you allowed yourself to study the contents of your hands: a lighter, candle, and one of the leftover store-bought cupcakes from Steve’s birthday. The cupcakes weren’t great, but no one had the time, energy, or ingredients to make a cake, and, let’s be honest, most of the people here couldn’t bake anyways. Plus, this one had frosting in your favorite color, so you couldn’t complain, especially since it was more than you’d had for your birthday since you could remember.

The wooden bed frame creaked as you shifted to place the candle in the frosting and light it. For the first time that day, you were grateful the windows had no curtains, as they allowed you to see the stars that dotted the sky.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured to yourself, your eyes never leaving the constellations, instead darting around to watch in awe as more and more of the twinkling lights showed up the longer you cared to look.

Just as you tore your eyes away to blow out the candle, a knock rang out against the door. Were you guys spotted? Did you have to leave? You immediately ran to open the door, running through a list of things you’d have to pack the second you heard the order. You weren’t exactly surprised to see Nat standing outside your door, but you were surprised to see her holding a small rectangular box and a bottle of champagne.

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt.” Your cheeks immediately heated up when you noticed her eyes dart to the cupcake still in your hand. You must’ve forgotten to put it down in your rush to open the door. At least the candle’s flame had gone out. “I get it if you don’t want to celebrate with anyone, but I figured you still deserve a treat on your special day.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly.

“What special day?”

“Um, well, isn’t it your birthday?” You nodded, still not quite understanding what she was asking. Not to mention, the spy’s continued use of filler words surprised you. Sure, the two of you hadn’t interacted with each other much, but a lack of familiarity didn’t usually make her this uneasy. Were you really that invisible that she felt uncomfortable around you despite having known you for three years? But you couldn’t dwell on it with Nat speaking again, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “And, um, I noticed the only alcohol you drink is champagne, so… this is for you.”

You stepped back slightly as she nudged the objects towards you, but the spy misunderstood you, taking your surprise as an invitation to enter the room. Before you knew it, you were asking her to sit next to you on the mattress. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, though; keeping her standing would be rude, and there were no chairs in your room. The two of you sat at least a foot apart, both of your spines straight and neither of you quite meeting the eyes of the other.

“So, um, do you want to open the present first or have your cupcake? Or we can open the champagne if you want.”

“This is a present?” You eyed the brown box she held in her hand. You weren’t sure what it could be. Based on its size, maybe a watch or a pocket knife? But Natasha laughed, simply pushing the box towards you.

“Of course it’s a present. Open it!” So you set the cupcake down on the unstable bedside table, making sure the dessert wouldn’t fall due to the furniture having one leg shorter than the rest. You cast one last glance at Natasha, who gave you a reassuring yet pointed nod, and with that, you lifted the cover. 

It took everything in you to prevent the tears springing in your eyes from overflowing. You lifted the goggles with shaking hands. You had to touch them to make sure they were real, to make sure this wasn’t some sick and twisted dream your brain had forced on you to make you remember how disappointing your past birthdays had been.

“Do you like it?” The blonde asked you softly, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. Had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve been surprised at how apprehensive she sounded, how unsure she was. “I thought it could be something you might want to wear on missions. I noticed your other ones kept slipping down or breaking, and um…” Both of you became antsier as Natasha rambled on, you at how she was being more intimate with you than anyone ever had, and she at how she just couldn’t seem to stop talking despite the fact that, in her opinion, she was digging herself into an increasingly deeper hole. “It’s a lot more sturdy, and there are some other features that I think you’ll appreciate. I had Tony and Bruce make it for you… before, you know, this whole thing happened. And I brought it with me when I left.”

The frames reminded you much of the glasses you had first wanted as a kid, the ones your mother had looked past in favor of the plain black ones. They matched your combat suit, though, even having a small carving of your symbol on the side. You nodded as you choked down a sob, forcing yourself to meet the former assassin’s gaze to try to thank her properly.

“I love it, Natasha. Thank you so much. I- it’s… it’s amazing.” Nat dipped her head as if to nod, but you didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed red or how a hint of her characteristic smirk appeared.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” Your eyes returned to the glasses in your hand. You’d try them out the second Natasha left. “So, cake now?”

“Yes, right, of course,” you nodded immediately, shaking your head at how you had managed to forget about the one thing you had planned to do for your birthday. Before you could reach for the frosted dessert, Natasha relit the candle and handed the cupcake to you as she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” When she reached the last note, you could hold it in no longer, and all the tears immediately began to flow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Is my singing really that bad?” The redhead wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or move away as she ran a hand through her hair, but she felt slightly comforted when she noticed you shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s just…” Natasha hesitantly began to rub your back in an effort to calm your sobs, “No one’s ever sang that for me before.”

“Ever?” She winced slightly at how her voice cracked, betraying her emotions to you despite her attempts to remain composed.

“Well, there used to be a video of it from my third birthday, but… I was three. So I don’t really remember it.” Natasha thought back to the many birthday celebrations the team had held, none of them being for you. The door to your room was always closed on your birthday. She’d always thought you had just gone out with friends and family, people outside of the Avengers, and who was she to get in the way of you and those you loved? But it had been the opposite. You had been hiding away in your room, and she hadn’t helped matters at all by waiting for three years to do anything. If only she’d gained the courage earlier, she could’ve helped ease your pain much sooner.

But all you saw through your tears was the way her head was cocked to the side, her spy training paying off as you couldn’t even begin to predict what she might be thinking. Your confusion slowed your tears somewhat, but that didn’t last for long as your mind shifted gears. You were ever the fool for sharing something so vulnerable with someone you barely knew.

So it was much to your surprise when Natasha finally reached her hand toward you, using her thumb to brush off the last few tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“You’ve never been invisible to me, Y/N. I see you. Always.” And with that, without responding, you turned away from her with a sniff to blow out the candle. “What’d you wish for?” the spy asked lightly, hoping the joke would help lift your mood.

“Nothing. This was more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Nat nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on you as she reached to take out the candle. Your eyes remained on the cupcake as if it would be ripped away from you if you turned away for a second. With her hand returned to your back, you began to dig into the cupcake, your eyes closing as you savored the taste. A cupcake just for you, on your birthday. Sure, it was a leftover cupcake, the frosting a bit too sweet and the cake itself dry and somewhat stale, but that didn’t matter. It was still the first in thirty years. 

-

That night, you lay in bed with the stars overhead, a smile on your face as you thought about the day’s events, your best birthday ever.

And maybe it was naive of you to believe what Natasha had told you earlier that day—it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind several times in the few hours since she told you that—but then you thought about the champagne and the glasses she’d given you. You thought about the way she’d examined your apartment with you one last time before she brought you to the Avengers Tower, about the way she gave you an encouraging smile during training when you became exhausted with Bruce’s cluelessness, about the way she’d shared her popcorn on movie nights with you and only you.

And in the room next to you, Natasha thought about your confusion, your tears, and the way desperation, hope, and amazement filled your face when you looked at her right before you blew out the candle. It was then that she made a vow to herself, to show you that you’d never be invisible, especially not to her.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” she whispered, “You are seen.”

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🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu