#sure he has the thing okay? also maybe he collects and keeps his broken things. the presidential palace in the ravinstill era... mausoleum

[felixravinstills]

inspired by @persephoneprice's post

(each answer comes with a free lab rat)

[syrupfog]

The thing about being a pirate is that you can’t get too attached to anything you own. 

Ships go down. Ships get stolen or looted. You change crews. 

Maybe pre-pirating your whole island was razed to the ground and you escaped with only the clothes on your back and your odd hat. 

It’s just a known fact; don’t get too attached to anything. 

THAT’S why Law keeps his Sora collection a SECRET. 

He knows it’s not wise to keep on board the Tang. He knows he’s just ASKING for a leak. He keeps the comics in waterproof containers as if that will help if they sink.

Honestly rule number one of being a pirate is “don’t eat a devil fruit you dumbass you need to swim” but he’d already broken that rule so he might as well break rule number two; “don’t get attached to anything you own.” 

He got very attached.

When the Tang explodes, everyone makes it out. Which makes sense, because everyone (except for Law) are North Blue survivors, MADE for those icy ocean temps. It’s great, he’s eternally grateful he can trust his crew. 

He’s just a little devastated that his collection is gone.

In the mean time, while debating how to get ahold of a second ship (would Wolf be willing to come out of retirement…?), they’re stuck on the Going Luffy again. Fucking creepy ass ship. But at least Law spends enough time getting pissed at Barto that he barely misses his things.

(That’s a lie; he used to reread one comic a night. He misses them a lot). 

Two weeks into their stay, though, they finally catch up to the Sunny (which of the Straw Hats was dumb enough to give Barto their vivre card?) and as soon as they’re close enough, Law realises that he made a mistake, lounging on the deck to nap. 

Because, like some sort of beacon, Luffy spots him instantly as he slingshots from one ship to the other. 

“TraaaaaaaffFFFFFYYYYYY” 

Law makes a quick room and switches himself with Bepo, who screams as Luffy crashes into him.

“Bear!!” Luffy yells. “You’re not Traffy!” 

“No! Sorry!” 

Luffy gets up and brushes himself off. “Oh, Traffy! When did you get over there?” 

“When you decided to try to kill me with that landing,” Law says, cracking his neck. 

Luffy laughs at him. 

LUFFY is made of rubber. Law is not made of rubber and he does not think Luffy ever remembers that. 

“I’m so glad you guys are here!” Luffy says, ignoring the insinuation that he would commit murder. “It’s been so BORING lately! And Nami says you guys don’t have a ship right now!”

Ah yes, Nami does read the paper religiously. 

“We’re working on it,” Law says, ignoring Bepo’s sad expression. 

“Well until then, you should join us!” Luffy says. “Since we’re in an alliance and all!” 

“We are NOT,” Law snaps, “still in an alliance! That’s finished!”

Luffy laughs. “Okay,” he says. 

Law doesn’t think that okay is real. 

“But anyway, Sanji says you should all come over for dinner! He’s making meat!” 

Barto, who has only just appeared (probably doing his hair), perks up. “Me too, Luffy Senpai??”

“Uh,” says Luffy. “Yeah, sure!” 

Barto has stars in his eyes. 

Law sighs. Barto is too much to handle on the best of days. 

“Fine Straw Hat,” he says. “We’ll be there.” 

They eat on the deck of the Sunny, because there’s not enough room in the galley. It’s a clear, starry night.

The Sunny’s headed to Elbaf. 

Law sits at the edge and watches his crew make up to Usopp and Franky. Bunch of nerds, the lot of them. 

He watches Luffy, too, as he eats a mammoth portion and then immediately lays down for a nap. 

Law’s spent a lot of time watching Luffy.

He doesn’t get it, how one person can have such magnetism. Luffy could have the whole world bowing at his feet if he wanted. Law knows this because he could easily count himself among them. 

He doesn’t understand why Luffy continues to seek HIM out.

He’s a hell of a lot grumpier than Luffy’s acquired crew. He’s also clearly been born with bad luck; it follows him like a plague. He’s not fun to be around. 

But for some reason Luffy keeps finding him and looking happy when he does. 

It’s weird.

Tonight, after half the crews have retired and Luffy’s woken up from his food coma, he does the same thing. He zeroes in on Law and sidles up to him. 

“Hey!” He says, sandals slapping the deck. “You’re being all weird and lonely!” 

“Shut up, Straw Hat. You’re just too friendly.”

Luffy puts his hands in his hips as he laughs. “You’re friendly,” he says. “You’re just not happy about it.” 

That’s incredibly wrong. Law scowls. 

“Now come on.” Luffy reaches down and pulls Law to his feet. “Sanji’s doing dishes.” 

“So…?” 

Luffy puts a finger to his lips.

Then he makes an INCREDIBLE amount of noise as he runs across the deck with Law in tow (and protesting about it) down to the men’s bunk room. 

Chopper and Jinbei are already asleep but the light is on, and Zoro’s sitting in his bunk polishing his swords. He looks at them when they enter and snorts. “Stealing from your own crew, now, Luffy?” 

Luffy laughs and Law starts to protest— or question?— but he’s pulled over to the lockers and Luffy starts rummaging through one that’s full of suits and smells sickeningly of cigarette smoke.

From the bottom he pulls out a box of— 

“Is that— Sora?” Law breathes. This is the GRAND LINE. How did someone get SORA COMICS? 

“Yep!” Luffy opens the box and starts getting his sticky fingers ALL OVER THEM. “The bear said you love this stuff! And that you lost yours!”

“I—“ how did Bepo…? 

Of course Bepo knew. Damn him. Snooping bear. 

“Sanji hates these things. I dunno why he insists on keeping them.” 

Luffy gives up thumbing through them and instead sticks his GREASY HANDS IN and just pulls out 90% of the stack at random.

“Here you go!” 

Law gapes at him. 

“Straw Hat, you can’t just—“ 

Luffy grins. “Sanji won’t to notice!” 

There’s two comics left in the box. Sanji will definitely notice. 

Still, Law could never turn down this opportunity. He takes the stack with REVERENCE, realising these are the OLD ones, the ones with the much darker plot lines and terrible airbrush coloring. 

Holy shit. They’re first editions. 

He may have started crying right there, if not for the fact that he’s suddenly pulled out of his thoughts by incredibly loud, incredibly fake snoring.

He looks over. Zoro’s still holding his sword oil as he “sleeps”. 

If he were a better man, Law would talk to Sanji about this. 

But he’s not a better man. He’s a pirate. 

Law makes a room big enough to reach the Going Luffy and reaches out with his free hand, grabbing Luffy.

He switches them with a Luffy statue from his own “guest” room.

Luffy laughs as Law lets go. “That’s so cool, we should prank people,” he says. 

“Later,” Law says. He sits down on the floor in front of his hammock and starts carefully shuffling through the Sora.

Honestly he’s so caught up in finding out what volumes are there that he almost forgets he brought Luffy with him until the captain reaches out from next to him and points at one of the covers. 

“Hey that looks like Sanji’s brother!” 

Law rolls his eyes and starts talking about how it couldn’t possibly be whoever Sanji’s brother is because Sora came out when HE was a kid and Sanji’s too young for that, and anyway Straw Hat don’t you know anything about the LORE? 

He talks about the lore. 

He talks for a LONG time about the lore.

And the worst part of all is that Luffy pays attention for all of it, nodding like he’s listening. 

(He can’t possibly be) 

(But that’s okay) 

When Law is done going through each comic and explaining the plots in detail, he realises just how much he’s forced down Luffy’s throat.

He starts to apologise but then he looks up at Luffy and sees him grinning. 

“We should’ve taken all of them,” Luffy says. “You clearly care about them a lot.” 

Law… blushes. Gets bright fucking red. “It’s a hobby,” he says. “It’s not important.” 

“But you like it,” Luffy says.

“And that makes it important.” 

Law stares at him. 

He has the unnerving urge to kiss him. 

“Straw Hat…” 

Luffy leans forward, eyes wide. 

Shockingly, he does what Law would never follow through on. 

He kisses him. 

HE KEEPS HIS EYES OPEN, THOUGH. LAW DOESN'T LIKE THAT.

Law reels back after the initial kiss. “LU-YA CLOSE YOUR EYES WHEN YOU KISS SOMEONE.” 

Luffy pouts. “No! I wanna see you!” 

Law scoffs. His face is SO hot. “Shut up.” 

He covers Luffy’s eyes and kisses him back. 

Luffy’s a terrible kisser. 

Law likes that.

He likes that there’s something he’s bad at. Because everything else about Luffy is so incredible. 

Luffy goes to deepen the kiss but when he surges forward he knocks one of the comics with his foot and Law immediately stops the kiss to clean up everything.

When breakfast happens in the morning, Sanji complains briefly about someone breaking into his locker and messing sigh his stuff, but Zoro makes a remark that Sanji’s just upset because he hides sex toys in his locker and got found out. 

They start fighting.

Luffy sits next to Law and eats all his pancakes, while Law picks at the accompanying fruit and eggs. 

Then, under the table, Luffy grabs his hand. 

Luffy’s hand is SO sticky. 

Like, did he stick his hand IN the maple syrup? 

Law lets it happen, though.

It’s good. It’s nice. 

He fell asleep in the hammock last night with Luffy. Reading Sora. 

Pirates can’t afford to get attached to things. Things get lost and looted and stolen. 

But just this once. Just this once Law will try again.

[neonovember]

Hello, uhm, so this MAY be an uncomfortable thing to request I’m not too sure. It’s totally totally okay if it is absolutely feel free to ignore this, but the way you write Carmen is so so comforting. I have this neighbor that lives downstairs from me, I’ve lived in my apartment for two years but the past 4 months with this guy has been hell. I live in the U.K. and the people that own the building and the police don’t view my situation as anything dangerous or serious, despite the fact I have made numerous complaints and even the other neighbors in my building have complained about him. But he targets me the most and bangs on my door at ungodly hours and threatens the most horrible stuff because I’m a woman living alone. I’m honestly terrified but unless he physically does something there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry for the sob story but usually I always try and just picture Carmy as something comforting to help through this until I can be safe, would it be okay to request something like Carmen finding out about his gf losing sleep and constantly being terrified and deciding to take matters into his own hands, and demanding she moves in with him and helps pack her stuff because he will NOT stand for that shit (again totally 100% okay if you don’t feel comfortable responding)

oh my god anon, I'm so deeply sorry that you have to deal with such a shitty situation, and the fact that you have to wait to be physically attacked before the police can do anything? Fuck the justice system and fuck law enforcement. Don't every feel scared to send a request to make your day or week or fucking month better, it's why I'm here, and the fact that my writing can make you feel even a little better is the greatest gift i could ever ask for. God I just hope you're able to remain safe, call a friend or family to keep them posted in case anything happens, I'm so very sorry honey :(

Broken bones and soup

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: misogyny, violence, feral!carmen makes an appearence, angst, horrible neighbours, angst, teeth rotting fluff, carmy feeding you

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: this was hard to write, i really wanted to do it right by you anon, and when have i ever written carmen without him breaking someones face?

The falling sun encapsulated the cerulean sky, exploding against the horizon in heated shades of orange, crimson and pink. The trail back to your apartment complex wasn’t long, but it gave enough time to bask in the warmth of evenings bathed in sunlight. It also conveniently enabled you to tell yourself you had gotten your sun for the day, rather than having to swallow pills you hated to swallow.

It was muscle memory however, your legs moved with the familiar comfort of the sidewalk, forgetting the stomach turning realisation of what had awaited you back at your apartment. 

It had been a couple months, four maybe 5, you didn’t really want to count the days having a violent neighbour moved in directly down your apartment. The other tenants who you've grown to know collectively bristled with the annoyance of a 30 something year old filling the usual peaceful nights with crashes and yells of broken plates and incoherent obscenities. 

When you had raised the issue to the landlord and even to the police, you had been shut down with a shrug of the shoulders. 

‘We can notice him with a noise complaint, but if he aint hurting anyone we can’t do much’. 

That had made you laugh a little then, before you had been close to bawling your eyes out and ripping out your hair. Sure he was loud, your neighbours from the other side of the apartment complex could attest to that, but it was so much more than loud fucking music, and somehow, you had bared the brunt of his violence. It was targeted, you knew it, and your legs began to shuffle at the thought of coming home to another violent outbursts at your door. 

You hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past 4 months, waking up to loud banging at your door, and declarations of brutality he whispered through your keyhole. It was all empty threats, those men in clad uniform had told you when you woke up shaking with fear as he screamed taunts of murder from below, you had run out in your pyjamas and bunny slippers and they had told you they couldn't help you. 

There were not empty threats, and this wasn’t the hundreds of true crime shows you had binged, you felt it in your bones, you were a woman living with yourself for god sake, he was going to break down your door one day and hurt you, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt paralysed by the helplessness of it, forcing yourself to stay up past 12, the burn of your tired eyes forced open by the blue light of your phone, in case he tried breaking in. You had begun to keep a bat near your bed, a knife in the drawer of your bedside, and you felt fucking insane. Noone had made a major problem out of it, and yet you felt like he was one bad day from a murderous rampage.

Carmen could tell something had been wearing on your shoulders, the way your eyes blinked slowly, and the syrup slow movements of your limbs when you had visited the Beef not long ago. You couldn't bear to tell him, your past relationships had taught you enough not to unload all your problems onto another person, but it had gotten bad. You had started getting notices of concern from your boss, asking if you were alright, telling you how your performance had been declining.

You had quickly shut down any looks of concern thrown at you, this was something you had to deal with yourself, you didn’t want anyone, especially another woman to be faced with the brunt of his violence. You guzzled caffeine and energy drinks like it was water, and your limbs jittered with the rush of adrenaline until the peak had dropped and you felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

You braced yourself as you turned the corner into your apartment complex, keeping your head down, and going through the carpack to avoid the hallway that was right next to his door. You felt your stomach drop, your keys pressed between your knuckles and you flickered your eyes up to the door of his apartment. You watched it like a hawk, ready to flee at any sign of opening, and when you had finally made it to the elevator, you breathed a sigh of relief like no other. The air suddenly fills your lungs once again.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, and you reached out to grab it, the screen illuminated by Carmen’s text. You felt a tingle of glee shoot through you, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing him today.

“You still coming today for the family dinner?”

The beef had begun a sort of tradition, every last Friday of the month, they would close early and hold a sort of family dinner right out back near the tables and chairs. Everyone of the crew’s family and friends were invited to join, some bringing a plate or a drink or two. It was the highlight of the month, and you hadn't missed a Friday ever since Carmen and you had become something more than close friends.

You typed out a quick reply with a tongue in your cheek, as the elevator doors opened, you didn't look up right away, walking with your head down as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. It was a fault on your end, you should have looked up, at least then you could have braced yourself as your neighbour stood stationed near your door with a cheshire smile stretching ominously across his face. 

You wondered if you could run back into the elevator, but the doors had closed well before and you feared turning your back to him was an even worse fate. You walked towards him, plastering on a smile that didn't look even a little believable.

“Something I can do for you?” You ask, your voice heightened by a mix of fear and false confidence

“Hear you've been complaining about me” The man replies with a smile, his hair slicked back, the shadow of a badly shaven skin spiking up. His shirt reeks of sweat and stains of spilt takeaway and you have to take a tentative step back to escape the stench radiating off of him.

“Yeah, you might not realise it, but you have been a bit- uh loud, and the loud banging on my walls?” You prouch him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise, shaking his head with a laugh that horrified you.

“Am I scaring you?” The man replies 

You swallow as your eyes flicker to his burnt hazel ones, they stare down from above, almost mocking in the way they forced you to answer.

“Uh, uhm- well, a lot of us got work in the morning, and I can’t wake up if you're making a lot of noise during the night”

“Oh, is that right?” The man asks, scratching a hand across his jaw

“Well no one's been the one complaining but you” The man replies

“I don't think so many of us-”

“You saying I’m a liar??” The man suddenly shouts, and you can help yourself stepping back a distance quickly

The man watches the way you distance yourself away from him, his eyes flicker to the keys poking out from between your fingers and he bites back a laugh.

“So you are scared of me, liar.” The man spits out with venom, before stepping towards you, caging you to the wall as he whispers near your ear

“You think fucking keys are going to stop me? A little lady like you living here all by yourself?” The man digs his fingers into your sides, until you howl out and retch yourself away from him, you reach for your right side, holding the skin above your rib cage that had begun to swell and bruise.

“See how easy that was? A fucking pretzel in my hand” The man calls out with a smile, before walking back around the hallway corner with such ease and comfort that told you he knew the police wouldnt do shit.

Your hand shakes as you shove your key into your door, you have to hold your own hand to put it in, before shouldering your way through your door with wince, and dropping your bag and belongings to the floor.

You rush into your bathroom, undressing before your eyes flicker to your mirror, seeing the red rash of irritation and the start of a purple imprint of his claws shoved into the skin below your ribcage. You wince as you try to soothe it, the salty tears breaking down your waterline, you can't stop, the wretched sobs of your helplessness echoing off the bathroom walls.

You climb into the shower, sliding down to the bottom as the tears shake through you, you hug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water combine with your salty tears, so they become one, and you know longer now how terrified you are. You stay in the shower like this for a bit, letting the warmth and steam wiggle your body from its stone encapsulation.

You can hear the familiar jingle of your phone ringing from where you had haphazardly left it, and the memory of today's dinner comes rushing in. You had nearly forgotten, and whilst you were terrified to leave your home and go back into the hallway where it had happened, you couldn't let Carmen down.

So you had gotten up, in the same way you had fallen down, and tried to scrub away the smell of his day-old cigarettes and sweat until your skin burned, poking your head through a clean shirt and a skirt that hid the painful purple splotch that had begun to spread across your side.

Entering your quaint kitchen, you can’t stop your arm as it reaches for the brown liquid stored in that old glass bottle Sugar had told you was a century old. You didn't have a little liquid courage to make it past your goddamn threshold.

You downed it in a gulp, reaching for your bag and a pocket knife, just in case. The reality of that decision broke you a little, when did you start needing to armour yourself?

Your phone buzzed from its position edged between the living room couch, it was Carmen, again, telling you he was outside. Carmen had begun to ceremoniously show up to your apartment as the autumn had begun to bleed into the winter nights, and the sunlight had stretched until darkness hit by 5 in the afternoon. Any other time you would have chastised him till the point where he would stop, but now, with the reality of your neighbour, you felt a relief wash through your body at the thought of being close to him. You also don’t doubt he would have shown up anyway, ignoring your requests in the way he does when he thinks it's his responsibility.

You wouldnt say you had a lot of experience in relationships under your belt, but something spoke to you from within, carmen was something special, this was special, sacred in the way destiny was, and you shooke with the relentless fear of fucking it up. And scaring him away with your problems seemed to be on the very top of that list

You shake the thought from your head as you shut the door quietly, take a brisk pace as you walk but kind of run to the elevator. A neighbour you knew well stood near the doors, his dark auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, he nodded to you with a silent smile. He kept to himself most of the time, and you didn't know much about him, just that he always was tugging a sleeve down his left arm, but he always went out of his way to give you some sort of greeting.

The air between you was silent, as you were waiting for the ping of the elevator to drop to your door, and you heard a shuffling near you, your eyes watching the way he coughed and stared at you from the corner of your peripheral vision.

“Heard something out in the hallway, it wasn’t him again was it?” The man replied, concerned about lacing his features as his eyes seemed to be fixated on the way you leaned on one side of your body a little.

“Uh no, it’s- it’s alright, I guess it was my dues you know? Dealing with a shitty neighbour at least once” You reply with a tight smile, trying to poke fun at the very depressing thought.

The man nodded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, your neighbours had known that he was loud, knew that you had dealt the worst of it being right above him, but they were clueless to his taunts and threats that he said into your door at night. You think the man next to you had an idea though, the way his eyes scanned anything like he was always assessing, always calculating the world around him. 

It was also because your neighbour was nowhere to be found whenever he was around, you whispered a prayer of thanks that he was taking the elevator down with you, with his sweatpants and top, it was like he knew, a silent nod of protection.

Before you could open your mouth to whisper a thanks, the doors of the elevator had opened, a tired mom and her two energetic kids passed between you both. It was funny, you could see yourself in her, the drag of dark circles and the hunch of her shoulders mirroring your own. 

You knew the very shakily painted on makeup did little to hide the exhaustion on your face and you rushed to enter the elevator to escape the thought. The motion of the elevator moving down nauseated you a little, churning your stomach in the way it always did with motion, but your apartment wasn’t big and soon enough the music of the elevator turned to a halt as the doors opened up to the ground floor.

You could see the headlights of Carmen's car through the automatic doors of your complex, and you gave your neighbour a smile before rushing to jump into the comfort of Carmen and his very, very warm car.

-- -

The car ride to the beef has been silent, just the syrupy beat of jazz from the car speakers and the burn of Carmen’s gaze searing a hole through you, you feared if you caught his eyes and the look in them the entire interaction today would tumble from your tongue.

You couldn’t ruin today, it was tradition, you had just begun to become folded into it. The joy of Tina calling your name for a hug, the talks about the new pastry ideas with Marcus, Sydney’s laughter, it soothes you like a balm, and you were sure the nausea crawling through your stomach would dissipate the second you entered.

But it didn’t, the beautiful lantern lights from outside the Beef glittered against the Chicago moonlight and the smell of Italian meatballs engulfed your senses and you still felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside.

You had said your hellos to everyone, biting back a yelp as Tina’s hand pressed against the bruise on your side, and nodding to Richie’s rambles whilst you felt outside of your own skin.

Your mind kept replaying the scene of him lunging st you, bristling your skin till goosebumps spread through, until your mind was exhausted from fear and well, fucking exhaustion and Carmen had to call your name too many times to rip you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Carmen asks with that soft honey tone he keeps for you.

You nod with a smile, and Carmen’s eyes shift towards your plate untouched. It was your favourite, a twist on Osso Buco and yet it laid un moving, Carmen knew it, you did too, and you held back tears as Carmen simply nodded, not sure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

It was the first lick of the start of something, the both of you, the bloom of a companionship Carmen felt was destined, like it was seared into the sand years before you both had even come into existence. And Carmen was new to this, and that opened up a whole can of worms, he didn’t want to fuck it up, he didn’t want to think about fucking it up, but god did he always seem to fuck it up.

You reached across the table to grab the jar of water, your shirt riding up without you noticing. Tina’s eyes widen at the peek of a purple imprint from under your shirt and she has nearly drops her fucking fork

“Baby? What happened to your side?” Tina replies with concern, her voice is quiet but the tables loud boisterous conversations begin to slow down.

You tug your shirt down, and you burn with guilt like you had been caught with this big secret. Carmen immediately looks towards your side, his eyes scanning the way you since a little as your finger brushes against it.

“Nothing, uh um I fell” You don't even believe yourself

“That looks more than something you get tripping over your feet darling, did something happen?”

“What? What’s she saying honey? What did you see Tina?” Tina’s gaze flutters to Carmen, and there’s a pause like she’s assessing whether it was Carmen’s doing before the reality of who he is hits her. It was ingrained in every woman, and Carmen wouldn’t be an exception. Even for a second.

“Looks like someone’s goddam fist imprinted into her skin” 

The restaurant is completely quiet now, and your head falls to your uneaten plate of veal, they look towards you in concern hearing the end of Tina’s words.

Carmen lifts your shirt, and you don’t stop him, the reality of your attack is shown right there in front of him, the imprint of a large hand bruising purple and blue.

Carmen’s eyes burn into the skin, his fists shaking as he remains silent, the rest of the family look on in horror, whispers of “holy fuck?” and eyes seeing the way Carmen practically vibrates, like he’s a second away from exploding.

“..Who did this?”

“It was my fault- I”

“Who did this baby? Who hurt you?” Carmen replies with an exhaled murmur.

“I’m, uh, Uhm- he- oh Carmen” You can’t get the words out, they’re stuck in your throat and you can’t get them out. You feel trapped, your body is sweating like you’re caged, like you're wading through a current and you're losing yourself to the weight of it, your breakdown on display for the whole world to see.

You blink back tears as Carmen tilts your chin to face him, and the look on his face, the look of distraught and fear that blossoms across his features un tetheres the tightly wrapped self control you had formed.

And Carmen scoops you up into his arms so that the entire family doesn’t have to see you break into his shoulder.

His soothing words are like a balm to your distress and he walks you, bridal style to the first aid cabinet, sitting you down on the counter, wiping away your tears as his fingers shake and his throat bobs with a tight swallow. He hastily tugs your shirt, kissing back the howls of pain as he whispers “I know, I know baby girl, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

His soft fingers press gently against the bruise as he rubs a heating ointment across it, he wraps a warm compress around it as bandage and his eyes are avoiding your own as he focuses his fingers on your skin.

“Carmen?” You whisper, the hiccups of tears resounding from your throat, Carmen reaches for a painkiller, placing it in your palm with a whisper of affirmation, he gently tips your head back as he pours water into your mouth, and you swallow it quickly, before looking back at him.

“Carmen? Please” You reply, had you done it, had you ruined everything?

“I can’t look at you because I fear I might break, and- and I can’t right now okay darling? I have to find, I have to find who did this, and I need to make it right, hm? I need to make sure your safe because god my heart is outside of my chest and I can’t feel anything but fear” Carmen replies with a tight low voice, his fists shake as he pressed them into the counter beside your thighs, but he looks up to meet your gaze anyway, and he smiles tightly as the tears stream down.

“Oh Carmen, this isn't on you, you couldn't have possibly known” You reply, wiping a hand across his cheeks.

“How can you say that? I am your, I am meant to protect you, and you, you come limping in without me noticing, fucking Tina saw it before I could, and i hate myself for it” Carmen replies, his cerulean blues shining bright against the shine of tears.

“Who did this, someone at work? A guy on the street?” Carmen replies and you flick away from his gaze, hand falling to your lap as your tongue burns with the desire to just say it all.

“You've got to tell me baby girl, you have to know I've got to make it right, I won’t sleep till I do. '' Carmen replies with a pained cry, like his heart is breaking from the thought of letting this go un avenged. And it's the tortured look on his face, it's the shake of his limbs like he wants to destroy and burn the entire world around him till he finds whoever has done this that uncurls your tongue and lets everything out in the open.

“What? This has been going on for months? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carmen replies, his thumb rubbing soft circles across your thigh.

“Didn’t want to scare you away Carmen, i love-i I like you a lot, more than I have anyone and I didn't want to fuck it up and unload all my problems onto you like a dumpster” You reply, and it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, and when Carmen looks up at you in disbelieved confusion.

“Huh? Oh sweet girl, I’m meant to help you bear it all, that’s why I'm here, and the idea of you thinking I'll love you any less, that I won't help you because of something like this haunts me. I’m meant to protect you yeah? That’s my fucking job, and I’ve failed it” Carmen replies with a grunt.

“No one has said anything like that to me” You say, eyes looking up to him, you weren't shocked, but you weren't, were not shocked, never had you experienced this, this burning adoration for another person, this soft warmth that burst through you at the sound of Carmen's voice promising his devotion, promising his unyielding protection. It armoured you more than a pocket knife ever could.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to your head, before shuffling around the kitchen, walking back into the dining tables, hushing out replies of ‘she's okay’ before coming back in with your things under his arm.

“What are you doing?” You reply in question, as he slowly picks you up with an arm, and gently places you back down. His eyes are constantly flickering to your side, like he’s torturing himself with the image of the first time he saw the horrific bruise across your side.

He had never felt true fear until then, the shatter of his heart beneath his breast as he realises you had gotten hurt and he didn't even fucking realise. Nothing had mattered but your safety and he scared himself with how much his body shook with a desire to destroy the person responsible.

“I’m driving back to your apartment, where you're going to grab your necessities, whilst I pay a visit to your little neighbour downstairs. You’re staying with me, for however long,” Carmen replies with a sneer, walking you through the back door, which you were all too thankful for, you couldn't bear to see the look on the crew’s faces if you had to walk back in.

“Carmen you can’t” You reply rushed, as Carmen slid you into the passenger seat, before clicking on your seat belt for you. He cocks his head, before raising his eyebrows

“Oh, I can’t? Honey, the police don’t do their job and my baby get’s fucking hurt. Nah, that doesn't work for me” Carmen replies, before rushing to enter the driver's seat, shifting the gear into drive before speeding down the city streets. 

His focused on the road, his face unblinking and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, you can’t stop looking at him, his gorgeous under the moonlight of the skies, his cheeks crimson from his tears, his cerulean blues calling to you like the sea, and the curl of his blonde hair falling like waves.

The view of your apartment complex comes into your vision as Carmen turns into the carpark in one swift move, you can’t stop the shake of your fingers and Carmen wants to slam his first into the steering wheel when he notices.

“You alright?” Carmen replies “You can stay here, I’ll grab whatever you need”

You want to stay, want to remain in the safety of his sleek tinted windows, but you want to face it too, and somehow that need is more important, he doesn’t get to win, no fucking way.

You unclip your seat belt, opening the door as you turn to him “You going to show me how you protect me or what?”

Carmen bites back a smile, god he was so fucking proud. He could tell you were scared shit less, and yet you fought through that fear, and god you mesmerised him. You were stronger than he could ever be, and he wanted to take that burden from you, carry it himself so you didn't have to.

Carmen jogs to the back of the car, reaching into the boot before the clunk of wood on gravel meets your ears. Carmen nods towards you, as he grips a bat under his arm

“He puts a bruise on you and i break all his fucking bones” Carmen replies, and you can’t stop the joy that image brings you

Carmen walks you to your apartment, waiting outside like a hawk, his bat tight against his grip as he watches the hallways, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you feel infinitly and utterly safe.

You throw your toiletries into a bag, grabbing a few nights of clothes and your work shoes. You eyes flicker around your apartment, it had been home to you for the past 4 years, and yet it felt so foreign to you now, you had grown to attest this place, this place you had filled with so much of yourself, and you hate him so much at that moment, for making you feel this way about a place you had once loved.

You leave your apartment with the door shut closed.

Carmen carries your bag and places them back into the back seat of the car, and as he begins to walk towards the apartment of your neighbour you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Honey, I’ve got to-” Carmen begins before you shut him quickly

“I want to watch” You reply quietly, and Carmen’s eyes flicker, before lacing his fingers into yours, as you both knock on his door.

There's a grumble before the clank of a chain slides open, and his face appears as the door opens to him, you can see the illuminated light of his TV glaring, the floor covered with pizza boxes and beer cans. You see in real time, how his face morphs from anger into fear, his eyes dropping as he sees the way Carmen practically shakes, and the man isn’t able to let out a word, a protest or wail of a plea before the crack of Carmen's wooden bat swings through the air.

-- -

“Are you sure he isn't dead?” You reply, as you dip a washcloth into warm water, wiping away the blood across Carmen’s neck

“He isn’t going to die if I wasn’t the one causing it, besides, if he does, that’s God finishing off the rest of it”. Carmen replies, raising his face so that you cleaned the last of the streaks of blood splattered across his jaw.

Carmen reaches for your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of them as he looks at you in that way like he yearns for you to be closer. 

“You need sleep, but first you need to eat, yeah?” Carmen replies, shushing your protests and he carries you to his room in his arms, after he notices the exhaustion in your limbs. It’s dark, illuminated only by the wall to ceiling windows that look into the busy city streets and light up sky scrapers. 

The sheets are strewn across the bed, haphazard like Carmen had rushed to get them off of him in the early mornings. Carmen slides you into them, tucking you within the soft pillowy blanket, sitting on the edge as he caresses your cheek softly.

He leaves for a moment, rushing to make you something to eat, his skin crawling with a need to feel you against him, nearly tripping over himself as he walks back into his room with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

Carmen sits next to you again, pressing spoonfuls of soup into your mouth and wiping the edges ceremoniously as you rest against the headboard half asleep. 

You don’t notice the way he looks at you, like he's trying to memorise every dip and curve of your face, his fingers clutching the spoon tight like he’s going to break if he doesn't hold you against him.

“Honey?” Carmen replies hushed

“Hmh?” You reply, your eyes heavy as the comfort of Carmen's warmth spreads through you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you tell me everything okay? Everything” Carmen replies pained, like the events that transpired somehow still were not resolved, like breaking the man's legs wasn't enough for him.

“Okay” You reply, and Carmen places the dishes onto the bedside table, leaving it to the morning because he can't keep you away from him any longer.

Carmen joins you in the bed, the left side of his bed finally taken by somebody for the first time in a long time. Tugging you against him, Carmen curls your body to lay against his chest, his fingers softly gracing your back, soft circles that had begun to lull you to a sleep you hadn’t felt in months, years even.

The beat of Carmen's heart joins with yours, together and entwined like how it was always meant to be, why had Carmen waited so long? Why had he let time pass without you tucked under him, safe within his arms and away from all the horrors of the world.

It’s only when Carmen notices the shift in your breathing, falling into a soft exhale before he even lets the whispers of sleep grip him within its grasps, his shoulders finally release from its tensed state once he knows you've finally fallen into a sleep that had been kept from you.

“You don’t know how much I love you baby girl, it fucking scares me, but I’ll keep reminding you until infinity if I have to, until you know it deep down like I do” Carmen mumbles out, his eyes falling heavy and you grips you against his chest.

You don’t really know how, but even between the state of sleep and consciousness, you hear him, and you whisper between the space in your bodies, that you already do.

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.2 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game....Uhhh...I think that is all.

You sat by the river bank, looking at the fishes as everyone was once again getting ready to go back on the road. Hearing footsteps you look seeing Astarion crotch near you. “Here, drink up before anyone sees us.” He hands you a small goblet with blood.  You grab onto the silver cup and drink it all in one gulp. Astarion looks around making sure no one was watching as he wipes your mouth with his sleeve “There now we are both less cranky.” He smirks, washing the cup right away. “I feel much better now” You look at him savoring the taste of the bitter blood. “Now I promise I won’t run off!” You grin showing your sharp fangs. “Easy on the smile now, I can see your little pathetic fangs.” He boops your nose before walking back to his tent. Walking around the camp you collected some flowers near the riverbank before looking around seeing everyone has left besides Karlach. “Hey! Where did everyone else go?” You pouted walking to her. The tall woman smiles looking down at you, “It’s just the both of us, little soldier. We think it’s best if one of us stays at the camp with you. It’s dangerous out there.” She chuckles seeing you cross your arms. “But we can take this opportunity to get to know each other.” She sits down on the ground. “Hmmm…”You look at her, was she part of the game as well? You did promise Astarion you would win this game for them. “Okay!” Sitting down next to her, you look up at her “Tell me about you! I wanna know why you have a broken horn” You pointed. “That will be a tough one…let me see if I can give you the kid friendly version.” 

“Why in the hell did you accept this charity work when our goal is to get this thing out of our heads?!” Astarion frowns after Tav was done talking to Zevlor. “Hey, Halsin can be our ticket to healing us after seeing what Nettie was going to make us do. We need to rescue him.” Tav looks at Astarion, “You are welcome to switch places with Karlach and look after (Y/N)” They crossed their arms. Astarion stops whining, “ On second thought I rather do this than babysit a child.” He mutters. “You know, you two seem to know each other.” Gale began to poke. Astarion rolls his eyes “Stay out of my business will you wizard? The child must have seen me somewhere in Baldur’s Gate and felt much safer with a familiar face. “ The elf shrugs and walks around the grove seeing what he can take. Shadowheart walks around as well. “It’s going to be harder to travel with a child, the dangers we will face.” She comments “We can’t leave them either since they also have the tadpole. Poor child” She hissed something glows on her hand hurting her. Astarion ignores her, thinking back how your life is. It’s already over since Cazador made you a spawn. “Yeah…poor kid” He mutters and walks further into the Grove. 

You lay on the ground in Astarions tent, after hearing Karlachs story, you look at the sky admiring it. You wonder why didn’t papa let you step outside the big palace. He would always warn you to stay away from the windows and never step foot out of the palace. The sky was beautiful, you want to keep admiring it after you go back home. Maybe if you convince him, he’ll let you at least see it outside of the window. “Papa…Mama…” You whisper thinking back to them. Rubbing your eyes, you were met with Astarion looking down at you. “Aww did you miss me little creature?” He smirks laying down next to you. “I miss papa” Sitting up you play with his hair. “Of course papa…hmm (Y/N) what did you mean about mad like papa?” He leans on his side looking at you. You look down “I remember papa getting mad at mama…” You whisper the memory fresh in your mind. “Mama…and do you know what Cazador was mad at?” He once again began to play with your hair, a habit he’s been getting. “I couldn’t hear…they were talking very lowly but I saw papa grab mama’s neck and then he took a bite on it. I wanted to check on mama but papa said she was going to sleep and took me home with him in the big castle.” You retold the story. Astarion only watches you retold it, he hums thinking. Must have killed her in front of her and took in the child before turning them into a spawn. “ I see, I bet you miss your mother.” He looked at the sky as it was setting down. “I do but papa says she was a terrible mother…I don’t know why but I don’t want papa to get mad at me?” You play with the dirt only for Astarion to stop you. “Careful you’ll get dirty.” He sighs before looking at you. “How are you? Blood wise little spawn.” He dugs into his bag to pull out another small vial of blood. “Gimmie!” You try to reach for it only for him to pull back. “Drink a little, this should last you till the morning.” He gently tips the vial on your mouth giving half. 

The next day, Astarion sighs sitting on the ground watching you chase a butterfly as he was replaced, Karlach taking his spot. You giggle chasing the small insect. “Astarion! When will I be able to see papa?” You walk over to the pale elf. “I don’t know.” He groans “This the 5th time you’ve asked me, don’t ask me again, got it?” He fixes your shirt before seeing a hole. “Where did you get this from?” He tuts. You look down shrugging. “Children I swear.” He mutters “ I’ll patch it up tonight.” He looks at his small kit. You grinned, “Thank you!” You wrapped your little arms around his neck. He tense up, before slowly rubbing your back, “Yeah yeah, now go back to chasing this pointless butterfly.” He gently shoves you away as you run off to chase the poor butterfly. How can a little spawn like yourself make him feel different?

   Night came rolling, You were asleep on your side of the tent. Astarion looks around and sees everyone asleep. He slowly got up and walked over to the Tav leaning in before seeing them awake. “Shit…” He mutters and backs up. (The rest is history for us Astarion Fans)

You woke up to the sound of chatter. Sitting up, you noticed everyone around Astarion. Getting up, your little legs walk over clinging on to his pant leg. “ And is (Y/N) a vampire Spawn as well?” Tav looks down at you. Astarion sighs “Yes, Cazador, my old master also made them into a spawn.” He looks down at you. Hearing the name Cazador, you grin “He’s my papa!” You bounce happily. “But she’s so young” Gale looks down at you, “Will she be needing blood as well? Right away, We don’t bite out of nowhere okay?”

Astarion frowns seeing Gale already showing you manners on being a spawn. “Yeah yeah, we bite before asking, don’t we (Y/N)?” He pulls you closer to him and away from Gale. You only nodded still clinging on to his pants. “ Has she taken blood yet?” Karlach looks over to you smiling “For a little spawn they are rather adorable.” She chuckles as you get distracted chasing once again a butterfly. “Why don’t they have red eyes? Where did Cazador bite them?” Astarion goes to speak but stops as they were right. “I…I don’t know…” He looks at you before walking over  “ Come here.” He gently stops you and looks at your (E/C) eyes before looking down at your neck seeing nothing. “(Y/N) I need you to tell me the truth, where did he bite?” He looks at you sternly. You only tilt your head “Bite…he only bit mama…” Upon hearing you, his eyes widened and stood up, backing a bit. “What is it?” Tav walks over. “They are a Daywalker. Dhampire’s….You…they…Cazador…” He whispers trying to make this all sense. “When has Cazador been…involved with a human…” He whispers looking at you. “Especially to have you…” He looks down at you as you stare back at him, only one thing crossing across his mind. 

What did he get himself into

~~~~~~~~~~

Important Author's Note: Thank you so much, it seems all of you are loving this, please do be patient. This story will start off slow but all the action and more secrets will be out in the upcoming chapters. I also have another idea, what about a fic where Astarion was married to the reader before he was killed and now that 200 years have passed he sees her again. Would you guys like that? I have another Astarion Fic as well in my blog called Hunted Past so please do check that out. Thank you everyone! Stay safe and stay hydrated!

-Axie

[trashy-tries-writing]

I can just imagine Ravine healing himself like he’s in the far cry 2 and everybody just looking at him like “wtf???”

Like broken arm? Nah let me just readjust some bones and we’re good to go!

Sorry for the long wait but it's finally here! 😖 Okay I can see this happening 💀. Price is getting gray hairs because he never knows if Ravine is walking around with an injured bones or not. It's a charade for 141 to find out after the first time they saw him do it 😂. Thank you so much for this idea 🙂 Also to all precious Readers, anyone willing to help me understand the mw2 characters more? Like telling me what your opinion on what their dislikes and likes could be and maybe headcanons you guys have for them? I’m interested to learn/know :DD PS.: I apologize for any mistakes and wrong words I use, It’s been too long since I researched about MW2 and Military stuff 😅

Price has known Ravine for a few years now but the soldier still surprises him in ways that he would never imagine. When he believes he finally grasped the depth of the weapo- Ravine’s abilities, the man swoops in with something unpredictable that has the captain stare at him like he just told him Laswell is firing Price.

Well not after today that is. Now he welcomes situations that could only happen in dreams with open arms so he can spare himself some stress.

The mission was easier than some things they were ordered to do.

The objective was to seize the contents inside the briefcase, it didn’t matter if the briefcase was lost as long as they got their hands on what was inside it. 

Ghost, Ravine, Gaz and Soap approached the enemy base on the mountains on foot as they ambushed them. However the opponent was one step ahead, hiding inside a hidden cave and fled with a jeep down the mountains, making a quick escape as the soldiers shot down the rest of the man.

Soap cursed, hoping to pop a tire with his gun but it was for naught as the bullets were caught by the many trees the vehicle passed through. Gaz let Price know that the objective is making pace down the mountain.

The captain’s voice echoed through one of their intercom radios.

“Ravine, time to fetch.”

They barely tilted their heads towards the mentioned male when they find Ravine darting past them at high speed. Their confusion flip into understanding as they have never seen him run before.

“The rest of you, make your way down and keep a lookout for strays hanging around.”

A few minutes later, they locate the jeep slammed sideways into a tree trunk making it almost fold in two. They quietly roam the area and quickly spot Ravine emerging from the back of the ruined car with a hand holding onto the case.

And that’s where they currently find themselves in when it happened.

“Ooohhh that looks bad, are you okay?” Gaz takes the briefcase from his hands, eyes worriedly staring at Ravine’s slightly bent arm with the bone poking out it.

“Aye.”

Without warning Ravine grabs his broken arm, pushing the bone back inside his flesh. A collective groan of pain and disgust echoed through the mountain from his action. 

Soap lifts a hand and averts his gaze from the scene as Gaz holds the briefcase in front of his face. Ghost scrunches his face from underneath the mask as Price’s voice echoes through, questioning the sudden silence.

The were impressed, sure… but whAT THE FUCK?!?!!?

While they are trying to explain to Ravine that, for a matter of fact, it was NOT okay to push your own bone back into your arm and it shouldn’t have been his first response to the open wound. It was DEFINITELY NOT NORMAL either to use that said broken arm the minute he ‘fixed’ it.

I mean okay, they did find that kind of cool but they were seriously getting worried about him. His blood was running down his forearm, staining his clothes red and he’s standing there like it was a daily occurrence.

Ghost marches towards Ravine and pokes a harsh finger to his helmet with ‘Don’t try this shit again’ glare, making the tall man recoil his head from the push.

“Sit down you muppet and refrain from moving that arm around.”

On the other side inside Price’s office, the captain exhales loudly; it could be heard outside the room. “Of course he did that…” He’s aging so quickly that he’s hoping he won't wake up the next day with a full set of white hair.

He waits by the entrance, seeing the truck in the distance growing bigger each second. He pushes himself from leaving on the wall and sees Gaz, Soap and Ghost instinctively grab onto Ravine who seems to plan a visit to the doctor.

While Ghost’s pushing from the front, one hand locked with Ravin’s while the other pushed against his chest, Gaz and Soap are pulling and tugging the man towards the medical facility.

Price sighs and the soldier’s stop in their tracks when they find him standing beside them watching them try to wrestle Ravine into a checkup. The captain crosses his arms over his chest, his head tilted slightly and a silent conversation is shared between him and the giant of a man.

Ghost can feel Ravine’s hand flinch and shake as he unconsciously tightens his grip on the shorter male’s hand. The lieutenant turns his head back, observing his body becoming tense making him look bulkier than he was.

The trio is shushed away as Price and Ravine go on their merry way.

“Man, he must really hate doctors.”

Ghost’s eyes linger on Ravine’s back, feeling something amiss. He doesn’t push or ask for an answer but questions are filling his head especially due to the sudden heat he could feel from his hand that was locked with his.

They were hiding something huge that was related to the abnormality that was Ravine but there were too many potential answers to piece together, like a puzzle without edges and weirdly shaped pieces.

He was sure Gaz and Soap were thinking the same thing but they didn’t dare risk breaking whatever frail bond they had with Ravine.

Who was Ravine before he became Ravine?

-----------------------------------------------

If anyone wants to be tagged let me know :D

@livinglifebesticanlol

(Hope it worked, never tagged anyone before 💦) (Also sorry if my writing got bad, I haven't written for so long 😳)

[anothermansjeans]

Okay so singer reader idea and if you’re not feelin it then that’s okay! But maybe Bye by Ariana Grande. And I imagined it like her and Spencer were together but have been broken up for a couple months and reader comes out w this song and changing the lyrics in the song to “so I grab my stuff, Penny just pulled up in the driveway.” And then they eventually get back together.

THANKS FOR REQUESTING!! ALSO some quick headcanons for this au so it makes more sense: the other 4 songs i mention reader wrote are down bad, the archer, hits different, and stranger and then after this blurb i picture reader wrote feels like !!

cw: hurt/comfort warning :((( spencer self sabotages !!!!! but happy ending :)

wc: 1k

singer!reader masterlist

++

Heartbreak has always been a real motivator for you when it comes to songwriting. You just hoped this motivator died the moment Spencer came into your life… unfortunately, it didn't.

Something serious happened at the BAU three weeks ago, so serious that Spencer went to your place in a panic and told you it was best if you two stopped your relationship now before anything bad happens. The media still weren't a hundred percent sure who he was, the disguises and staying on the down low really helped with that, and he claimed that's a good thing– it’s good that no one (other than close friends and family) really knew about him and his job. He told you he didn't want you in danger.

And some very small rational part of you knew he was doing the best thing his brain told him to, you were just angry and sad about it all. You love Spencer; that’s a no brainer, but you wish he would have given you the chance to make the decision if it's going to impact you. So, because of the heartbreak of him leaving that night and making absolutely no contact with you afterwards, you kind of went on a rampage with your writing.

The first song was written not even three days after it happened. Penelope pulled up to your place to give you a hug and to let you know that just because Spencer doesn't allow himself to be happy, doesn't mean she will stop being there for you. You love Penelope so much. After the visit though (and a few too many glasses of wine) you kind of threw anything you saw that was Spencer’s into a bag and handed it off to her. You wanted to keep only what was yours, and you didn't want to have to deal with it later; you didn't want to deal with the heartbreak later.

Still a bit buzzed, you decided to start working on some music. Phone recording, and fingers playing the piano, you sang whatever popped in your head.

“So I grab my stuff

Penny just pulled up in the driveway

It's time

Bye-bye

Boy, bye

Bye-bye

It's over, it's over, oh yeah

Bye-bye

I'm takin' what's mine, yeah

Bye-bye

It's over, it's over, oh yeah”

And it was out to stream within the week. You went through a lot of loopholes, long talks with your management, and producers to get it out as soon as possible. When you wrote it, it felt like it was on the tip of your tongue, and that anxious feeling made you loath everything around you. For your own mental health, it was released way before any other song or even mention of a new album. That week that was spent tying up loose ends on your management’s side was a week also full of songwriting, and you were sure you'd have an album by the end of the month.

When the surprise drop happened, people were confused. Supportive, but confused. You normally did a lot of interactions with fans online before or after a release, so your silence was concerning. You proclaimed it was your hermit season, and with that, people (that being friends and family) knew not to bother you. So you could say that when a knock on your door was heard throughout your place, you were hesitant.

You got up and looked through the peephole, sighing when you saw the genius you were still very in love with. It took you a minute to collect yourself– you didn't want to speak to him but all parts of your heart were aching for a moment with Spencer– and you slowly opened the door, seeing the sadness pool in his eyes.

“Uh– h-hi.”

“What are you doing here?” You didn't mean for your words to come out so harsh, and neither did he by the flinch he gave you.

“I wanted to talk to you…” You scoffed and shook your head. This wasn't a good idea. You began to close the door, only to abruptly stop at his voice. “I heard your song.” You stayed still, waiting for him to continue. “And I spoke to Penelope, and everyone on the team and I hate myself for letting you go the way I did and–”

“And what?” You cut him off, practically begging him to give you something to hold on to.

“And I want to try and talk to you about this and do anything I can to try and make this up.”

You softened a bit, and gave a nod, opening your door wider for him to enter. When he did, you motioned at him, “keep going.”

He took a deep breath and gave direct eye contact as he spoke, “I self sabotage, but in addition to that, I’m terrified of anything happening to you.” He waited a moment, clearly collecting his thoughts, “I see what happens to the loved ones of those on my team. I never want that to happen to you.”

“I understand that, but that doesn't give you the right to make the decision to end things without consulting me.”

“And I completely agree and understand.” His words were quick. “I know I’m allowed to be cautious but I should have spoken to you and tried to figure out how you felt on the subject.”

“Exactly.” You stared at each other, and your eyes began to fill with tears. “You are never allowed to do that to me again. Leaving me… safely stranded… I hated it, Spencer, and I love you so much, so you are never allowed to do that again.”

He took that as his in, and tentatively took a step towards you, bringing his hands up to your arms and gently squeezing them. “Never. I love you too, I am so sorry, Y/N.”

You gave a nod and moved closer to him, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist and feeling his arms engulf you. You waited a moment before speaking, “I wrote four other songs about you.” He hummed in agreement, “and they're all going on the next album.”

He gave a soft chuckle, “I completely understand,” and he left a soft kiss on the top of your head. A huge weight was lifted off of you, and you never felt more at home.

++

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant @chericherrypie @punksnotdeadbutiam @stillhere197 @laddywitch @httpstoyosi @obi-wansgirl @amandareids

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[gaykarstaagforever]

1970

Another proto-Elseworlds, 100% about Superman and Lois breeding.

The Bronze Age of DC comics, featuring less nonsense like this, started around 1973. You know, when America's broken boys started returning from the Killing Fields of The 'Nam? Which Marvel also turned into a comic book of the same name, in 1986. Because wtf, you lunatics??

They got seven years out of this. That's two years longer than the actual colonial war we inherited from the French.

Amazing.

Is the Silver Age ending when that war did a huge coincidence?

Probably. But it is funnier to pretend otherwise.

This story is exactly Superman and Lois giving birth to Stewie Griffin, and shenanigans ensue. Granted, Stewie didn't exist in 1970 (and probably only exists because Seth grew up on this garbage), so it may have hit harder back then. I have no idea. Ask your favorite Vietnam vet.

Otherwise, the story here is mostly just inexplicable stuff happening, that may or may not have anything to do with the plot. Like this:

The implication is that the Freak Baby results from Lois's probably-a-real-car-I-can't-identify getting exploded by lightning hitting a gas tank.

But then no. It is just some guy with weird hair, doing things with rays to Lois's womb.

And if that isn't gross enough, he also watches Superman and Lois in their bedroom.

The baby is born with a giant head, and is super-intelligent and evil from the rays. Which is all part of a really stupid plan by the weird guy to "Take Over the World". In the most convoluted way possible.

Suffice it to say, it takes Superman approximately one million years to figure out something strange is going on. During which time, he keeps trying to stuff baby food into the mouth of an obvious monster who keeps yelling at him.

Enjoy this panel as you will, Tumblr.

My nerdy favorite part of this comic is how no one at DC in 1970 could figure out how to draw striped wrapping paper, but tried anyway:

Another highlight is this fascinatingly irresponsible Superman feat:

I'm sure you're desperate to know how Superman stops his evil baby from helping the weird guy conquer the world.

...Well, okay. First, this happens:

Space is involved. They try to explain it and it just makes it worse.

To the point. The weird guy's whatever plan immediately falls apart, the moment Freak Baby figures out what is going on and decides to enslave him as a henchman as part of a NEW plan, to force the Government to pay him millions of dollars or he won't let any flying planes land. Which isn't bad, relative to the rest of this nonsense.

It is looking pretty good for him until he just...falls asleep.

See, my first thought was probably the same as yours: he's still a baby. He just got all tuckered out.

But no. That would make the barest amount of sense. He passes out because Superman secretly drugged a jigsaw puzzle he played with days before, with some kind of special sleepy toxin that he invented, specifically to make his monster baby pass out days later.

Because there was literally no other way to deal with this, before the kid started crashing airplanes and making public ransom demands.

At the end, the baby is "cured" of being a monster, and everything is fine. In a universe where everyone now knows Superman and Lois had a monster baby who probably killed people.

...Was the weird guy recording the footage he collected from Superman and Lois's bedroom? I feel like he probably would have.

I bet Lex Luthor has it now. Luthor, and Batman.

And maybe Jimmy Olsen.

[writingbyshiloh]

I Love as Madly as I Hate

CW: JW universe (blood, reader kills and gets stabbed), ANGST!, Reader wears a dress, verbal fighting, dead marrage, Vincent being a dick and no beta (and Grammarly gave up halfway through), One sentence in French which means “leave us alone”, implied smut

AN: I hope this is angst, I don't really read angst myself. I overthought the tense this is in so much that words don't make sense anymore. FUN FACT! The title is from Les Fleurs du Mal which I want to have made an appearance in the other Marquis fic but I thought the title was fitting.

The bounty amount is in the sweet spot. High enough that it’s worth the effort, but not too high that half the world would also be trying to bag them with you. The only problem was with who set the bounty. That would be your ex, of six months. Well technically he's still considered your husband, and you were still legally married.  

That was your fault, bringing up the idea of a divorce, and waiting for him to sign. Wanting to get one last dig in while still married, you act surprised, reminding him he can’t get a second marriage, second changes are for men who failed the first time, remember? He took the papers from your hand, never for you to see again. Sometimes you think he burned them. 

The hit was for a mob member - Lukas Matthews, young and new to the underworld, not sure how things worked. He stole from one of his bosses, an acquaintance of Vincent. The younger mob man was distracted by all things flashy, expensive, and pretty. 

You didn’t have any trouble donning a sparkly dress, paying admittance to some dive club to stalk the man. As long as you push down the feeling that you were really just doing this to get a glimpse of Vincent, it was okay. Great even. Maybe if you were a normal person you could just call him. 

You watch the target for a while, sipping on soda from the bar so you could blend in. The man was still with his friends, and you figured it would be easier to take him when he was alone, probably outside, away from the other members of his group or innocent partygoers. 

—. 

Lukas ultimately lost, but he fought nasty. Maybe you were still rusty. The rest of your night now consisted of trying to patch up yourself or trying to find a black market doctor to fix you, depending on how bad your shoulder gets.

You were littered with scrapes, small cuts and sore muscles, but your shoulder got the worst of the battle. Lukas managed to cut quite deep with a broken beer bottle. Once it heals it will be a reminder of all the things you do to try and convince yourself that you’re over your husband. 

Pain flared every time you moved your shoulder, the wound being an inch or two below your collarbone left you trying to keep half your body still. You settle on taking Lukas’s hand, with the mob tattoo. You and Vincent know members of that mob would rather die than cut off their symbol. 

With the body shoved against a trash can, you place a few garbage bags to cover the mess. The hardest part of the evening was still to come. With your good hand, you fish out your phone from your bag. 

—

You assume he is attending some ballet dance or performance. You felt a bitter twist of jealousy. Was he there with someone? Has he moved on that fast? You think mind racing. When you texted the Accountants that you completed the bounty, you received a call from Chidi. 

“I hear you collected the bounty. Do you have proof of death?” he questioned. 

“I do. I have the hand with the tattoos, but the body’s here I can get something else” you rambled down the line, suddenly much more nervous than before. 

“Please hold.” 

The line was quiet, you watched people come and go from the club, secluded from the side street you were in. Backtracking into the club, hand in your bag you returned your coat check ticket. At least the jacket will cover up the bleeding, you can get the bounty and go home. 

“Hello?” Chidis's voice returned. 

“Yeah, I'm here.” 

“Tell me your address, the Marquis de Gramont will be sending a car.” 

—

The Marquis de Gramont looked amazing. He tried to always look his best in his suits, complete with an incredibly complicated knot, chains, and his signature pin. You still have your pin, hidden in a shoe box in your closet. Tonight was no exception to his looks. 

His suit was reflecting the lights in his mansion. You knew from the glitter, this was a suit he would were at a cultural outing. Bitter jealousy bites at your insides. Was he there with someone? Did he move on that fast? Is it a mistress? You think. The jealousy dies when you still see his wedding ring on his left hand. Your wedding ring feels heavier on your right. 

You both look at each other, his gaze lingering on your exposed legs, no doubt covered in blood. You felt exposed standing in the center of the large room. 

Vincent was the one to break the silence first “Did I buy you that dress?”

“No. I’ve had it for a while” 

He nods, stepping closer. 

“Proof?” 

You frown thinking he was asking about the dress, before remembering the severed hand. 

“It's here. Tattoos and all.” you struggle to get the appendage out of your bag without moving your bad shoulder. At least you had the sense to wrap the hand in a plastic bag. 

“Come to my office. We can talk in there” 

You do not want to “talk in his office”. The last time, you went to “talk in his office” about a bounty it ended up with you naked on his desk, the cold chain from his suit vest and his ring pressed against you. 

“I should go. You can just wire me the money or something” You reject. 

You can tell you surprised him before his face shifts back to a more neutral expression. 

“I have a nasty scratch so…” you trail off, hoping he leaves the issue. 

His gaze almost softens. The separation was less than a year ago, you guess that he still cares for you. He still keeps tabs on you, your neighbour works for him you’re almost certain of it. 

“Where?”

You gesture with your chin to your shoulder. 

The pressure from his stare makes you break down and shrug off your jacket, the inside sticky with blood. 

Already he is in front of you, pressing a cloth against your wound. 

“You need to see the doctor, mon amour.” 

You hate yourself for leaning into his touch, but at least he has good contacts for an underground doctor. It won’t be that hard to get in and out right?

—

The doctor arrived fast, not wanting to piss off the Marquis. You knew him from your early days of dating, long before your marriage, when Vincent insisted you quit. You wonder if the doctor remembers you. If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

You just didn’t think Vincent was going to join you. He watches the doctor tend to your shoulder first, sewing neat rows of stitches to hold your flesh in place. You stare at your jacket on a spare chair, no doubt forever stained in blood. The good doctor already gave a warning about closing your eyes, so you keep your gaze on the jacket, your nails on your good hand leaving imprints on the chair arm from the tension between you and Vincent. 

The doctor moves on to more minor wounds, mostly cleaning them, and patching them up if needed. Ignoring your soft hiss when the cleaner he is using hurts more than you expected.

Vincent is watching the doctor, scowling when you flinch in pain. 

The instant the doctor pushed the tray with his tools and bloody tissues away, Vincent speaks for the first time since the three of you sat down.

“Laissez-nous seuls” 

The doctor protests, wanting to give you instructions on caring for his work, making sure you don’t rip anything open. 

Vincent glares at the doctor, who places down some gause for you to take home and leaves without another word, closing the door behind him. 

The Marquis drops to his knees for a better look at your injury. One hand cups the back of your shoulder blade to keep you still, as he inspects you. You’re sure you smell disgusting, the smell of the bar soaked into your dress and your hair. The doctor cleaned up most of the blood, but Vincent never really cared about literally getting his hands bloody if the time was right. He would just wipe them on a cloth and toss it aside for one of his housekeepers to pick up. 

You turn your whole face away, as much as your shoulder will let you, sure he can feel how hot your face is across the distance. The feel of his eyes is heavy, and almost magnetic, pulling you to look at him. His other hand is on the armrest of your chair. 

“Don’t,” you said softly, trying to preserve any of the dignity that you had left. 

“Don’t what, mon amour” he whispered, still looking at your shoulder. 

“This.” You were mostly saying this to yourself, knowing that you only had seconds to get out of his personal space before you give in. You’re tired and hurt and he's right there, acting how he did when you first fell in love with him. 

You tilt your head back almost automatically to give him more access to your throat. He moved slowly, pressing kisses against your jaw like it would be the last time, before working his way to your mouth and kissing you properly. 

—

It’s like a bomb waiting to go off, not only having sex with him but also having to navigate yourself out of his bed without one of you making a gripe at the other. 

Well, not technically his bed. This was yours, in a guest room you made your own while being married, now empty. You moved your stuff out during the separation. Sometimes you regret not taking the bedclothes with you, but now you’re thankful you can feel them, cool and soft against your skin. 

You had no choice but to stay lying on your back, trying to keep your injury still. He was next to you in the same fashion. 

“You are still wearing your ring.” He speaks quietly. As if to prove his point, he toys with your wedding band. 

“I helped design it, of course, I’m going to show it off,” you reply not being able to look him in the eye. 

He kissed the back of your hand.  

“I believe I designed it, you just suggested the stones.” 

Hand flexed to fully show off the stones, you had to agree. 

The stones were suggested by you, on a date to le Musée de Minéralogie. It was just the two of you, and you had been taken with the rubies. Vincent walked alongside you, filling you in on information you might not have known. It was an off-handed comment from you, how red is a colour for both blood and love, very fitting in your line of work. 

“You have good taste,” he says while you think had instead. 

His hand skimmed your bare side, nimble fingers finding a small bump that was not there before your flight with Lukas. 

You flinched at the dull pain, not surprised if he “accidentally” poked it. 

“You should let me take care of you, mon amour.” 

That was it. The same words that started and ended your marriage. Being taken care of by Vincent made you feel like a doll, sitting on a shelf, never allowed to do anything. 

“Vincent,” You spoke with caution, the pain slowly seeping back into your body.

He held your chin gently, commanding your gaze to look at him. You softened looking at him. 

“It is true. Do you think I like seeing you like this?” he asks. 

“I don’t know what you like” you retort, steeling yourself for the argument to come. 

“I like you.” 

“Oh, you do? Is that why you made me quit bounty work?” you snap. 

“I asked you to stop because you're not very good at it and I did not want a dead fiancé.” 

Ouch. 

“If you were a better fighter, you would take higher bounties.” 

You don’t look at him as you leave the bed. You know he's sneering at you. 

But you’re not going to shrink away even though you’re naked. You know you have to get dressed in front of him but you can put on a brave face.

 “Thanks for this lovely reminder of why our marriage failed.” You spit out. You know the failed comment will piss him off. 

You leave without a second look, cheap shoes squeaking against the floor. 

—

You felt the lock slide open under the key, your apartment slightly cold and quiet. You still smelled like his cologne, only now the smell reminds you of the recent bitter memories. You discard your bag as you make your way to your bed in your apartment. Away from Vincent. 

As you take off your dress for the second time you feel your phone buzz. 

[Unknown number: Wire Transfer Sent. Deposit for Lukas is confirmed.]

Seeing him mixed with the rush of adrenaline after the fighting was too much, especially with the separation so fresh. Maybe he was right. Maybe you should go after higher bounties, especially not those set by him. 

Taglist: @heartrot666, @soraya-daydreams

[anothertransauthor]

Can I get a trans Pickles x reader?

Hi, yes, I'm sorry this took so long! I’ve been working constantly this week, and on top of that, I wanted this fic to be its best (a lot of restarting half way through because I couldn’t continue it, and alooooot of proofreading—haha!) That being said, all other writing will be slow because I am a slow writer! Other than this one (it's on the shorter end of the spectrum), expect a thousand and up in word counts! That being said 2.0 please don’t be discouraged from requesting more! I love all of the ideas coming from you when I’m not writing something myself in the meantime! And yes, I will continue the ABC! List both SFW and NSFW! Someone's gonna have to show me how to make a master list.

Trans! Pickles x Reader

Summary: just your state-of-the art Pickles comfort. Pickles has trouble asking for help when he needs it the most. Oh, and the reader also works with the show's production team.

Warnings: depictions of gender dysphoria, implied familial transphobia, description of surgery scars, reader with no specified gender

Word Count: 1,014 words

Pickles had always been open and rather accepting of everyone he'd ever had a conversation with, you included. Always the one to help others relax, always the one to listen, always the one to hold you with open arms. Something in you has always had the inclination in the back of your mind that he was projecting that same protection he craved for himself, but any time he starts to open up, something conveniently happens to interrupt him, or he shuts down completely. Always the reliable one, always putting everyone else first, always the rock.

You and Nathan were the first to notice his spiral when it first started. First, he was unusually snappy over little things when they were recording. He started waking up earlier and earlier, until he seemed to stop sleeping all together. Despite your pleas to take care of himself or talk to him, he kept insisting everything was okay. Always stable, always responsible, always cool.

His mask slipped completely one day during a show; maybe it was the lights, maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the fans glaring eyes staring at him like they knew something. The show was cancelled that day, and he locked himself in the broom closet in the makeup room. And now here you were, sitting with your back against the door, listening to the muted sniffles as pickles tried to hold it together. Always collected, always relaxed, always…quiet….

"I’m sorry..." Those were the first words you heard from outside the door; you weren't even sure he knew you were there. You sat up straighter and faced the door now, one hand on the cheap wood that separated you. "Don’t be sorry, dude. Nathan and Skwisgaar have handled the situation with the fans."

"No- no… y/n-- I'm sorry for shutting you and everyone else out... I'm a fuckin  hypocrite."His voice cracked and shuddered again; you could hear him shifting uncomfortably before he spoke again.

"The band didn't deserve this... You sure as hell didn't deserve  this—hell you made this show happen tonight, and I blew it."

You didn't know how to respond for a second; this was the first time you'd ever heard him so broken before. Lost in your own head, you almost didn't hear him knock on the door the first time to get your attention.

"Are you still there?"

"yeah—! Yeah, I-I’m still here, doodle... Can I join you in there? We can keep the lights off—"

Before you even finished your sentence, the door had opened, and Pickles' strong arm had pulled you inside. Just like you offered, the lights remained off. But you could still make out his outline in the shadows, and that was enough for you as you took his hand in yours.

The two of you stayed that way for what felt like forever, before the redhead took a deep breath and said, "My mom called me some days ago... "I guess I had left a drunk voicemail or somethin’— called me an even bigger disappointment than the day I told her I..." He choked up and pulled his knees to his chest. Your heart broke at the sight as your eyes adjusted and you could see him better. He looked like a kid again, dejected and lost. "I know I can never make her see me that way, but I’ve tried everything else to get her to love me—even just the facade of who she wants me to be."

There was a thunk as Pickle let his head fall back against the door. He pulled his hand away so he could push his palms against his eyes in an attempt to force his thoughts into order.

"I didn't mean to fall this far... Man, I'm fucked, aren't  I?"He laughed humorlessly before his eyes met yours in the dark: "I'm supposed to be the one helping anyone else with this... I'm fuckin' famous; I stopped worrying about how I'm perceived. If you told me when I was 16 that I didn't have to live my life in a binder—I'd fuckin laugh at ye…."

A hand took yours and brought it to his chest, and though it was over his shirt, your hand could almost feel the scars on his chest. You'd memorized it well; it didn't define who he was, but it did make him beautiful in your eyes.

"I hear you, loud and clear, Pickles." Your words felt hushed as his heartbeat thrummed against your fingertips, but he understood you well. Fresh tears welled in his green eyes as he pulled you fully into his lap, hiding his face in your shoulder. Moments like these usually require very few words; any string of sentences couldn’t convey what either needed to say exactly what they wanted anyway.

Your hands cupped Pickles’ face, your fingers gently massaging the weak spot behind his ear. He groaned appreciatively as both of you sat like that; the sounds of the show getting cleaned up were hardly muffled through the thin door.

"Oh man… Charles is so gonna have my ass." He groaned weakly when he decided he was done sitting in the rank ass broom closet.

"Don’t be so sure... Nathan will get to you first," you tried to tease, shoulders easing slightly at the sound of his familiar scoff, "he's been worried about you too... Don’t tell him I told you."

You could still sense his unease as his chin moved; he was looking at the wall now.

"Hey, look at me." You pulled him back to you, his face now clear in the shadows, as you skillfully wiped the fresh beads from his eyes.

"You’re not alone any more... You made it," you reassured him lovingly. "We can be strong for you sometimes."

Pickles hugged you tight, taking his first smooth breath since he'd calmed down. You kissed his head and down his cheeks before ghosting your lips over his. He smiled against you; his smile was always contagious. You had to suppress a giggle before giving him exactly what he wanted, holding him as you did.

[letters-from-the-4077]

4x18: Hawkeye

Dear Dad,

I am concussed. So so so many concussions. You’d think my brain was made of gelatin the way it wobbles and wibbles. I don’t think wibbles is a word.

Mr. BJ is writing this letter for me. Actually, it’s Dr. BJ. Dr. Hunnicutt of the 4077th MASH unit.

My head hurts. But I wanted to you know that I am okay. 

You know what’s funny? If I didn’t write to you to tell you that I’m okay, you would never have known that there was a chance I’m not okay, which means that this letter is net zero information. The unknown and being not okay cancel each other out and then you carry the two and then you get me, your son, being okay.

Your bestest okay-est son,

Hawkeye

.

Dr. Pierce,

This is BJ writing now. I suppose I also wrote the top bit, but only because I don’t think Hawkeye would’ve been able to hold a pen and focus on the page at the same time, and even he seemed to realize that. Correspondence when it comes to Hawkeye is surprisingly difficult. Lots of “stops” and “wait don’t actually write that.” Hopefully I got enough of what Hawkeye was trying to say. Even concussed, his brain moves faster than his mouth.

He is going to be okay, just so you know. Nobody’s really quite sure what happened and he’s either too concussed or too guarded (or both) to tell us anything more than the basics, but he’s back safe at the 4077th, and nobody’s about to let him out of their sight for the next couple of days. I’m sitting on an extra bed in post-op now, writing this letter to you. Hawkeye’s finally resting and I felt that what he told you might’ve caused more worry than what should’ve been assuaged, which is why I’ve decided to continue it. 

I hope that’s not too forward of me. I’d write you a whole new letter but I wouldn’t want that to cause even more concern, and besides, paper’s in high demand out here. Everything’s in high demand, actually. 

But Hawkeye is going to be just fine, if not in need of a few weeks of bed rest, God help me when I have to actually tell him that. I’m sure you know better than I, but Hawk’s not too into staying in one place and resting until it’s the only thing he seems to do. 

He hasn’t confirmed it yet, but Radar—that’s the company clerk, I’m sure Hawkeye’s told you about him—said that there was an overturned jeep next to a small local village, and he’s pretty sure Hawkeye was in it when it crashed. Radar said he didn’t see any evidence of shelling or anything like that, so your guess is as good as ours as to why the jeep decided to roll over on its side in the first place. 

Hawkeye was due back from the 8063rd where he went down to help out because two of their surgeons came down with the flu, along with about half of  their nurses. Miraculously, we haven’t had any flu problems out here in the 4077th, but maybe we’re next in line. Whatever the case may be, Hawk’s jeep crashed on his way back and according to Radar and Hawkeye’s ramblings, a nice Korean family kept an eye on him for the better part of the day and sent one of their daughters to our camp to go collect him.

We took pictures the second Radar came in with Hawkeye, and even in his own state of being concussed, he had managed to diagnose himself with the right thing without any of our imaging. We merely confirmed what he had already announced: a skull fracture just behind his ear, on the fissure between his right parietal and temporal bones. I’d say it’s a minor fracture, but the skin is broken, and you know as well as I do that there’s really no such thing as a minor skull fracture. 

He’d been mostly alert and somewhat been able to follow conversations, but you never know with Hawkeye. Even on a good day, where he has zero skull fractures, his mind runs faster than the rest of ours. Jumping between thoughts has never been much of an anomaly, but I’ll be the first to say that it’s worse than normal.

But, I digress. He’s resting now, actually sleeping, and we’re all going to keep an eye on him. I’m writing this in the mid evening, and I don’t get off until 2200. Regardless, I’m going to spend the rest of the night in post-op to make sure that nothing happens during the night. We’ve already started him on saline and penicillin; saline for rehydration, and penicillin because nobody here wants to chance a skull fracture becoming infected. The phrase “preventive medicine” comes to mind, but I doubt any doctor but myself is thinking about that in Korea. 

You’re probably going to be getting another letter from Hawkeye when he wakes up. I don’t think he’s going to remember much of this past day, let alone the hour before finally falling asleep and the mumbling of words as he tried to get through a letter to you. He’s also going to probably downplay his injuries when he writes to you, which is another reason why I felt the need to take over this letter. 

I’m not sure if Hawkeye’s told you anything about me, but I have a daughter out by San Francisco, nearly 10 thousand miles away, and if anything had happened to her, I know that I’d want to know immediately, and with all the details. It might be different seeing as how Erin, that’s my girl, is only a few months old and Hawkeye is pushing 31, but I’m not convinced. This might be the naivety of a new parent coming through, but I get the feeling that no matter how old they get, you never stop worrying. 

I suppose I should reiterate it again: Hawkeye is going to be okay, and we’re all keeping an eye on him, even Margaret. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think she truly cares about Hawkeye. He’s an easy person to care about. Almost too easy to worry about, some days. 

If anything else happens, I’ll get Radar to place a call to you so you don’t have to wait for these letters. I suppose if that’s going to happen, you’ll have already known about it, seeing as how postage delay is up to about two weeks out here. 

I think Hawkeye’s rambling might be rubbing off on me, and there’s really no other updates I can get at this time, so I’ll end it here and get this letter sent first class. 

Signed,

BJ Hunnicutt

Previous | Next

[cemetery-irises]

i am going insane. woe my hyperfixation amalgamation be upon ye now and forever (yes. pokemon team posts part 1)

now. ive explained norton before but i wanna revise it and sound more legit/put together than i did when i flung this at mach speeds to my friend gold BUT

first off. the toxtricity. as i've said sooo many times norton's born and raised in spikemuth, and he takes pride in it. despite the rundown/dilipadated appearance, the locals are still upbeat and lively, and piers keeps it all kicking. norton has a lot of respect for piers as well-- despite how he's a gym leader, he's in the same situation as the rest of spikemuth, and he's super fair about everything he does. i think while norton was younger he'd help out in the ways he fan. maybe he babysat marnie from time to time! but basically, he holds a lot of pride in his hometown and he has an equal amount of respect for piers despite being older than him (i see piers as about 25 to nortons 28), and he likes showing off what he takes pride in! toxtricities appear to charge attacks by strumming the chords on their chest, resembling the motion one would make playing a guitar :] i decided on the high-amp form since norton is fairly competitive during the battles themself (though he recovers from losses with a lot of grace. its pretty much a hobby to him so he doesnt get too worked up) and also, toxtricity tend to be somewhat arrogant as norton can be :]

ok. okay so. meowth/perrserker. i know the fandom didnt recieve this line very well (i wasnt too fond of it either) but. listen okay. meowth are generally known for collecting coins. the galarian meowth are specifically tougher due to being seafaring companions, and kantonian meowth dont get along with thwm. alolan meowths, who are used to luxurious lifestyles, also don't get along with their galarian counterparts, despite being the same species with little differences. perrserkers also enjoy battles and are competitive :]

corviknight is. kind of a stretch but bear with me. i gave him a rookidee originally for the sake of the new fool's gold accessory for this season, the broken cage, since rookidees have yellow feathers similar to canaries. also as an offhand reference to leave the mines. the corviknight itself symbolizes wanting a change of pace/scenery/environment for similar reasons, since in galar, corviknights are a means of transportation (one of the only ones other than trains or bikes if you dont want to walk) and they can go wherever its desired to.

barboach are cavefish that are local to the galar mines! overall the line just felt fitting </3 ive not much to say on it

the wimpod...... the wimpod is so very dear to me. little bug that scurries around his feet. they're cowardly and also native to galar mines, and i imagine he shooed away some other pokemon that were harrassing it (stunfisk perhaps) and afterwards the wimpod kind of just. followed him around the rest of the day so he caught it. he hypes it up so much and is very encouraging towards it, and it becomes his ace pokemon once it evolved to a golisopod :3

as for the boldore, he's had it since he was a kid. as a roggenrola, it was one of the only things his dad had gotten norton before his death, and norton bonded with it quite easily. despite not wanting to be a rock type specialist like the other workers, he's very attached to it!! overall, he cares a lot about his pokemon and you can really tell how much he loves them and how proud of them he is. he's one of the (arguably) few people who fully realizes how important pokemon are, and how much they've helped shape society since he'd never been someone to take anything for granted.

orpheus deross..... thw only person who could rival bede's bastardness.......

honestly, i wasn't sure what to do with him. i just knew he should be a dragon type trainer because it'd be funny for frederick's fairy type ass to mop the floor wjth him immediately. however! there is reasoning for some of them. actually really just the appletun. norton gives him an applin and he decided to keep it with him + evolve it. also, i think noivern's personality is somewhat like norton's so it'd be funny if orpheus told norton he reminded him of his pokemon once or twice

[litlunacy]

So I’ve been contemplating Nilofynn’s fey patron again, still trying to get a feel for her. I’d wanted someone a little flighty, maybe a little silly, but also still a typical petty, possessive sorta fey creature. But I figured I’d do a little lore digging to see if there was a canon Archfey that I could use instead of making one up because I’m lazy like that. And uh…I got more than I bargained for. (Ramble-y thoughts ahead, including evil!AU thoughts. Yay!)

I never wanted his patron to be evil, so I was looking into the Seelie Court. And then I thought, wait, wouldn’t it be interesting if his patron was actually Titania, the Seelie Queen? Cuz like, you’d have to be either mad or super sure of yourself to go making a pact with a Bhaalspawn, right? An unpredictable murder machine? But then I thought, why the hell would she want one, especially with Bhaal’s Chosen, made from his own essence?

Well, obviously she offered up the contract while Bhaal was still dead. Duh. Tried to get in there while Bhaal had minimal influence, maybe turn Fynn to the light.

Like, she sees this young man full of so much life and with so much love to give and his affinity for nature and then wham the Urges take over and he murders his adoptive family. He’s broken. So she steps in and is like, ‘hey, it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. I can help, you know. I have power. I can use that to help, to keep you calm, to keep you grounded, keep you you.’ Of course it doesn’t always work, and it never works when he falls in love, they always die, but he just can’t stop falling anyway, and Titania is there in the aftermath, giving comfort, consoling him and trying to figure out a way to help him. But she’s not as much of a match for the dead god of murder as she thought, and then Bhaal returns, and it’s worse, it’s so much worse, and Fynn gets darker and becomes the Chosen and she thinks she’s lost him. But then he falls in love with Gortash, and it’s a terrible decision, really, but it’s him, it’s that boy full of love she’s been trying to protect. She has hope.

And then he gets his brain whacked apart and tadpoled, and he forgets it all. Even her. But it’s an opportunity. He’s not the Chosen now, Bhall isn’t whispering directly in his ear, he doesn’t know the terrible things he’s done, the thing his father turned him into. She gets a do-over. She can save him this time. Which is why she refuses to answer any questions about his past. He thinks she’s stringing him along, but she’s really trying to steer him the right way, protect him from his past. And between her belief in him, and the rest of the gang’s belief in him, especially Astarion and Halsin, it works. He does resist his Urges, he does defy Bhaal, he does get his happily ever after with the men he loves and their gaggle of critters and orphans and vampire spawn horde. And it feels like the best pact she’s ever made.

But in my lore digging, I also read about the Raven Queen. Which, the raven has very much been Fynn’s symbol to me since the beginning. He’s mutliclassed into ranger and has a raven familiar. And the Raven Queen’s domain is in the Shadowfell, and she collects memories of loss and tragedy. What’s more tragic than a man forced to kill every person he’s ever loved? So what if she had gotten her claws on him first that day he murdered his family? What if she was constantly whispering even more darkness in his ear? Well, then he’d be a hexblade warlock for one thing, and also he’d end up getting the Slayer form and telling Shadowheart to kill the Nightsong. He’d return to his place as the Chosen of Bhaal. He’d let Astarion ascend. And Halsin would be stuck watching them both feed into the worst of each other, descending further and further into darkness while he can’t do a thing about it. But he can’t kill them either, because he loves them too much and once again blames himself for it all. A big old tragedy all around.

IDK if I’ll do this evil!AU playthrough, but boy am I feeling the vibes. I’d make myself feel terrible the whole while, but it might be fun? I don’t usually do full evil playthroughs in games, but something about this compels me. (Also knowing that it’d just be and AU and in canon they’re all together and happy and being their best selves)

[chidoroki]

Heavenly Delusion EP2

aka: NO ONE HERE IS NORMAL

Ah we get the OP this week and that real quick frame of a “game over” screen with our two protags with the options being “continue?” or “kill” is very concerning!

Wait what’s the back of Maru’s hoodie say? “We are neither machines nor..” what? It gets cut off!

The art style keeps changing and honestly I kinda dig it? Especially when it goes line-less, like that once sequence of Kiruko running where it literally looks like she’s chasing her outlines.

I was so focused in trying to figure stuff out that I didn’t really listen to the song.. but I’ll give it another listen now. And I like it.

What’s going on with wheelchair boy’s arm? Is that why we always see him in a bed or wheelchair? Or is this mark a result of something weird?

I’m all for loving whomever you want but aren’t y’all just children?? like that was more than just a simple kiss man!

The hell is with these kids? Last ep it was Taka doing parkour and now this Kuku chick is jumping and clinging to trees like a damn frog.

Why. are kids. sending shower pics. to each other??

Tokio really does have a collection of Kona’s drawings. I’m sure they got some kind of meaning.

What on earth is in the window? Also, this man-eater has a name? Hiruko? What, were they people before?

“She fed us some sort of drug to put us to sleep.” Yeah I thought of that last week too after the fact. Maru fell asleep way too quick for someone who is always up longer than Kiruko, and the inn owner didn’t eat any herself either.

Oh hold up, I can read the back of the hoodie now. “We are neither machines or game pieces.” … That still concerns me greatly! Could they really be part of a game? Or a dream reality? Maybe they got multiple lives? Answers would be GREAT right about now.

That certainly is one hell of a creepy monster, what the fuck? It’s got different attributes of several animals and it has ultrasonic whip things or something?

I love that even in the middle of an intense chase scene they still choose to give our protags some funny faces.

Ah shit, that thing is the lady’s son? That’s why she didn’t want our duo to go out and hunt it..yet she had a huge gun herself.

“I was almost eaten by one, so I know..” Well that explains her scars from before.

Yeaaahh I knew that death was coming. Rest in peace lady. So much for thinking that monster was protecting her.

Aw, I like how Maru accuses Kiruko of only thinking about defeating the monster instead of the lady who just died but turns out she was already shedding tears.

How do you both expect to kill this creature though..? The gun is out of shots and Maru, I know you were strong against those thugs last time, but could your hits really hurt this thing?

… Huh? He touched it and some weird spirit hand went inside it to crush a heart? Maybe? Help??

What was this Great Disaster huh? But damn Kiruko really is bad with numbers, she can’t remember how old she was for anything.

“The only thing I can kill is Hiruko!” Oh is that the collective name of the monsters? I thought it was just the last one individually.

Jesus christ that was such a hard ass fall! Taka has gotta be dead. Or got a concussion or broken something. No way in hell he gets up fine from that.

BRO HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU LIVING??

“There’s a guy with the same face as me out there somewhere.” Okay but how do YOU know that Maru?? And why we gotta inject this person with a drug? This show is good at keeping SECRETS.

Who’s this Mikura now? Oh, his mom maybe? Or whoever this lady that give Kiruko the job and gun to protect Maru.

And she has the same kind of weird marking over her body as the kid from earlier with the wheelchair.. that boy ain’t gonna make it huh?

Oh god so there really were crocs in the water they just sailed over. That’s hilarious. They had every reason to freak out then!

They’re both very trusting to eat the nice food these farmers prepared for them when the last person who offered them a meal drugged them!

Kiruko does kinda look like this Kiriko Takehaya kart racer but not quite the same, however she did react to the whole “killing your brother” thing.. so maybe they are similar? Somehow? Maybe it’s like whatever is going on with Maru and Tokio and how those two look alike.

OH LOOK. A symbol with some kind of bird in it. How very Promised Neverland of you!

Oh, well I picked up the little hints that Maru might’ve felt some kinda way towards Kiruko but I wasn’t actually expecting him to outwardly say them?!

“My body is a woman’s, but in here, my mind is a man’s. So.. I’m a man.”  Are we saying like..by choice? In which case good for you. Or like.. due to some crazy experiment because that’s the vibes this show gives me with these kids being anything but normal? And maybe that’s why she..? he? this person can never remember the correct age.

Mmm the ending is nice too. I might like the song better than the OP? Also, Taka gives me Don (TPN) energy for some reason.

[stump-salsa]

Adding onto this because I have a lot of thoughts about this topic. This might come out as a bit scrambled because I’m not thinking too hard as I type I just need to get it all out.

First of all, no, defectiveness is not an allegory for autism.

Not only would this be extremely problematic due to the nature of how defectives are treated (executed via electrocution, being seen as highly unstable and dangerous monsters), but you’re also humanising irkens too much. Irkens and humans… not the same! I’m not saying they CAN’T be autistic, I’m just saying that defectiveness and autism are NOT THE SAME THING. This is something that REALLY irks me. (Pun intended). It genuinely makes me very uncomfortable and I know people are going to disagree with me and tell me things like “but the irken empire is messed up! That’s the point!” Okay, well I’m not finished.

“You’re a monster, Zim! Everything you touch gets destroyed!”

Defectiveness isn’t a problem with the irken itself, with the organic brain. Defectiveness is an issue with the PAK. A lot of issues in Zim’s case. The PAK is broken. It literally says this in The Trial:

“Irken Zim’s ID PAK is damaged, and has led to a corrupt data path. He is… a defective.”

His PAK is so broken that it corrupts the Control Brains! Almost like a computer virus, I guess.

Defectives are unpredictable, unstable, and dangerous because their PAKs are damaged. It’s hard to keep them in line which is why they need to be terminated. Zim is an active threat to the entire empire, which would be impressive if they learned how to utilise him. But they can’t. He’s too unpredictable. He could end up annihilating his own race by accident (which has almost happened before). He could be set off in a way that makes him WANT to destroy the empire. No matter what he does, something gets destroyed. And the empire doesn’t want it to be them because they KNOW he’s an actual threat. He’s proved that multiple times. It’s safer to just banish him to a planet so far away that it’s practically impossible for them to cross paths again, all while he’s under the impression he’s been sent on a top secret mission. He’ll direct all his destructive energy towards that and not mess up things for the empire anymore. And they need to keep up the illusion so they don’t set him off because they can’t keep him under control like they can everyone else. THAT is what defectiveness is.

Zim was doomed from the second his broken PAK was attached.

Also, defectives aren’t common either. That’s why it’s such a big deal when they’re discovered with this huge existence evaluation. They’re a flaw in the empire’s perfect code and need to be scrubbed from existence and everyone needs to pretend it never happened. That such an irken never existed.

“Irken Zim's data is not allowed into the collective. His PAK will be removed, and erased.”

Also, I know I said it in the original post, but no, irkens who show emotion are not defective. Sure, maybe it’s seen as weak to show emotions like sadness, but it’s literally impossible to prevent that. They very clearly show other emotions like anger, happiness, frustration… sadness is just another one. It’s not defective to be sad, it’s just funny.

And no, I don’t think Skoodge and Tak are defective. I don’t really have a coherent explanation for this. I know it’s a popular headcanon, I just don’t see it.

I don’t really care if you disagree with me on that, it’s your headcanon. I’m just saying that I personally don’t see it. You do you. What I’m actually passionate about is everything I said before that.

I don’t really know how to tie this all together, but I want to share my thoughts on this topic because I feel like it’s important - ESPECIALLY the first part. I’ll come back to this if I have any more thoughts about it because I’m very passionate about defectiveness as a concept.

The term ‘defective’ is thrown around way too loosely in this fandom. Having emotions does not make an irken defective.

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Warmth

Pairing: Alpha Beefy Bucky x Female Mutant Reader

Summary: Being paired off with Bucky Barnes on a mission was hard enough. Hell, the two of you being a part of Hydra a long time ago was already hard enough. But when the two of you are forced to seek shelter in an Avengers safehouse, it gets even worse.

Because there's only one freaking bed.

Will you survive the night with the grumpy Alpha by your side? Or will you rip your hair out?

Who knows. The nights are unpredictable.

What you do know is, is that Bucky Barnes is too fucking hot for his damn good.

Maybe you just might pull your hair out.

Warnings: Heavy A/B/O dynamics. Mentions of past torture from Hydra for both Bucky and the Reader. This Bucky is sort of a mix between CW!Bucky, (hence the beefy!Bucky), but also TFATWS!Bucky bc I love grumpy old man, sassy Bucky. Some angst/hurt/comfort, because I'm a hoe for angst. No heats/ruts in this lil fic, just good ole rough smut. Some biting and some mild blood too. This sex would be considered unprotected irl, but in the a/b/o verse, I don't think you'd need protection??? Who knows. Italics are for when Bucky and the Reader are talking in Russian. The Reader also has a nightmare, which ties back in with the whole mention of past torture from Hydra. If I missed any other warnings in this, let me know and I'll make sure to add them!

Additional Notes: This was written for @agentofbarnes's writing challenge! Congrats on 7k, Zee! I'm sorry this took so long. I started writing this in July, and let it marinate for far too long. But it's here now. I hope you enjoy!

All writing mistakes in this fic are mine, as usual.

Word Count: 4,602

Hell.

This was absolute pure fucking hell.

As you and the former Winter Soldier, James "Bucky" Barnes himself stared at the front door of one of the safehouses for the Avengers in case of emergencies, you couldn't help make eye contact with him.

Great. This was just great.

No one, not even Clint had told you that it would be snowing in freaking January in rural Ohio, of all places.

Then again, you had faintly remembered doing gymnastics before you had been taken by Hydra with some arrogant Alpha guy named Lance. He had been a real pain in your ass and you remembered you had made him cry once. After you had escaped from Hydra, you had bumped into him again. Funnily enough, he was still just as scared of you as he was all those years ago. Which, you know, was nice.

But what was not nice was the Alpha that was currently looking back at you. James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, Buck, White Panther, Jesus, Bionic Staring Machine- (the last three nicknames, all given to him by the Alpha Sam Wilson himself), scowled at you. His blue eyes even narrowed at you.

You wouldn't call what you and Bucky had a friendship. You two weren't even enemies. Heck, colleagues? Teammates? That was just putting it lightly, the relationship you had with the Alpha. Even when you had been captured and brainwashed into serving Hydra, the two of you had never crossed paths. It had been only after Hydra had fallen, did the two of you actually meet in person. Other than that, nothing. Nada. Nope. No with a capital N.O.

"Come on, let's go." Bucky all but grumbled. Realizing he didn't have the key to get inside, he looked at you. Like you had the key or something.

"James, I don't have the key." Bucky groaned. "Do you have a bobby pin, Omega? Something?" He asked in Russian. You plucked a bobby pin from your hair. A stray piece of hair fell. Putting the flat side in, you managed to unlock the door. You turned to look at him, giving him a toothy grin.

"Learned that from Pit Pocketing for Dummies, 101."

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. You just sniggered as you opened the door, greeted by cool air smacking against your face.

It made you shiver.

Because, unlike Bucky, you did not have any of that good ole supersoldier serum in your veins.

You were a mutant that could control water. Sometimes, you wished that you had the ability to control fire, because then, at least you could be warm in such dire situations such as these.

Taking your shoes off and putting them at the door, you surveyed the place.

It was a small house. Like a cozy little cottage. Probably only had at least two rooms at the max. It certainly gave off that vibe. There was a fireplace in the living room. A fully furnished kitchen, complete with a little wooden table with benches instead of individual chairs near the window.

Your grip on your bag of clothes became tighter as you realized that you needed to take a shower. Your stomach grumbled, alerting Bucky that you were hungry. Your comms had died. The two of you could contact no one until you charged them.

Which meant for at least tonight, or whenever the snowstorm outside stopped, you only had Bucky Barnes for company.

Well. That certainly would be pleasant.

"Go and shower first. I'll make dinner."

***

After your shower, you walked back into the kitchen, your sweet smell that reminded Bucky of deserts that his Ma used to make for him and his younger sisters back in Brooklyn drifted towards his nose. Thanks to the serum, he had already smelled it a mile away.

Cinamon rolls. Apple turnovers. Apple pies. Pumpkin pies. Bucky felt his Alpha rumble at the smell. Even Winter stirred at the familiar scent he loved so much.

When Bucky had gotten the trigger words wiped away from him due to Princess Shuri's genius, the Winter Soldier hadn't gone away from him. Rather, Winter had become a part of Bucky. Winter had been what Bucky became to survive Hydra. Winter was Bucky, only darker. More possessive. The deepest, darkest thing of him that the Wakandan Elders had helped him find again and reconcile with.

It was during times like this, making dinner in the kitchen that reminded him so much of his time back in Wakanda. Taking care of his farm and his pet goats, (that he sadly couldn't bring back with him when coming back to America), that he missed the most. It was domestic, in a way. He could almost feed into the fantasy, the thought that you were his Omega, his Bondmate, and that he was just making dinner for you.

From an outsider's perspective, it might've looked like Bucky didn't like you. That he just tolerated you. Treated you like how he treated everyone else in his life.

But it was the contrary.

He liked you.

He liked you very, very much. Other than Steve, Natalia, and heck, even the winged pigeon- you were one of the only people to truly understand him. You were probably even on the same playing field as Natalia, because you knew what it was like to be controlled by the Russian government. You held him at an arm's length at most, and you never treated him like he was some fragile, broken man. When you treated his wounds, you never fretted like other Omega's. Nor did you dottle. Ask him if he was okay every five seconds. It was disappointing in a way.

Bucky turned his head, just as you hopped yourself onto the counter, away from the conduction stove.

The smell of butter pasta was filling your nose. You watched with rapt attention as Bucky shut off the stove, grabbed the freshly grated cheese, and dumping it in. To hell with calories. Stirring quickly for a few seconds, he stopped. Turning his head to look at you, he gave you a low smirk. His scent of something sandalwood, oceany filling your nose. It made your Omega preen.

"Get some bowls, will ya doll? And forks too." Hopping off of the countertops, he heard a chirping, yet sarcastic reply.

"Yes, Sarge."

He felt his pants tighten at the thought. Hearing you grab all of the stuff, he swallowed.

Not that he would tell you that.

No.

Never.

***

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking with me."

So, as luck would have it. There weren't two bedrooms.

Nope.

There was only one.

Not only that, the entire room was fully furnished. A closet was on the left side of the door, against the wall. There was a window and just a bit to right, in the middle of the room, was a queen-sized bed, all made up with all the fluffiest blankets, comforters, and pillows imaginable.

"And you're sure this is the only room?" Bucky said. "Yeah! It's the only one, James. It's either this or the couch. And I'm not sleeping on the couch. It's too cold. Whoever built this safehouse didn't have any heaters built in either. Fuck, is this how I die? Freezing to death?" Your voice was getting higher with concern.

Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"No, doll. You're not to freeze to death. We're going to share that bed."

You turned your head towards him like he had just grown a second head. "What?" you exclaimed. "No. No, no, no. Noooo. James. Nu-uh. Uh-uh. I'm not going to sleep with you in my tank top and underwear. the least you've seen me in is a pair of short shorts and a tank top."

Bucky inhaled deeply through his nostrils.

Get yourself together Barnes.

Don't throw her over your shoulder.

Don't do that.

"You're a water mutant, doll. You're not a fire mutant. You aren't a supersoldier either. I'm not letting you freeze to death. I'll keep you warm all night. Better yet, don't sleep in your tank top and shorts. Our body heats will do just fine." Bucky snapped at you. You were still trying to collect your thoughts.

And then the realization, the reality of your situation, smacked you right across the face.

Bucky was asking you to sleep naked.

With him.

In the same frigging bed together.

Oh you were going to die. You were going to die and go up to wherever other spirits went to after they died. You weren't really all that religious nor spiritual.

But tonight though?

Yeah. Maybe you believed. Maybe a little.

Just the slightest bit.

"Okay, okay," you grumbled, "I won't wear any clothes. Better yet, I'll even give you a show. That'll even out the odds, James."

***

Warm.

He was just oh so warm.

Your back was flush against his front, feeling skin-on-skin.

You had stopped shivering about an hour ago.

Bucky had scouted the safehouse, to see if there was actually a heater, in case you had missed anything.

Nope.

There were no heaters in the safehouse.

Absolutely none.

Not to mention, all of the blankets weren't as thick. From what Bucky had observed a few hours ago after dinner while you had tackled the task of doing the dishes, was that the safe house had been abandoned for a while. It was either that, or nobody had stocked this place up for a while.

He had chosen the latter.

With his strong arms wrapped around your stomach, he pulled you close. You were asleep. Dead asleep. Bucky felt and saw your body rise up and down as you slept, your breaths all evened out.

It was nice, almost. Outside was quiet. Bucky could hear other than your breathing only the soft wind blowing due to the snowstorm outside.

For a moment, Bucky was lulled into a sense of calm. His mind was clear. His Alpha and Winter were quiet. He didn't have to fret. Or look over his shoulder. Didn't have to second guess himself or his actions anymore.

And then he heard it.

Soft whimpers coming from the sweet-smelling Omega that he was currently holding in his arms. You had begun to squirm, arms thrashing out. Your legs smacked on his knees, trying to desperately claw yourself free from his tightening grip on you.

"... I'll be good... just don't chuck me in the freezer again... please sir... I hate it there... please don't chuck me in the freezer, please..." you were sobbing in your sleep. You started to blubber, continually trying to claw yourself out of Bucky's grip. The metal plates of his Vibrainum arm shifted as his metal fingers tightened around your stomach. Bucky knew not to apply too much pressure on you- you weren't like him, Steve, or Natalia. You didn't have the serum in you.

"Doll? Hey, doll. C'mon, wake up. It's not real." Bucky tried shaking you awake to no avail. You had continued to thrash in his arms.

Sniffling loudly, your Omega was thrashing in her cage, in the confines of your mind. She was whispering, yelling at you to wake up.

"Omega. Wake up."

Bucky didn't mean to use his Tone. But you were being so hysterical, shaking, and crying to the point where it was beginning to worry him. Your sweet scent had begun to twist and turn into something more burnt. Singed. It made his eyes water.

You stopped thrashing in his grip. Your body froze up at his use of his Tone. Your Omega stopped throwing her temper tantrum too. She had paused for a second.

Her Alpha had given her a Command.

So why wouldn't she listen?

Peering from her cage in the confines of your mind, she sighed happily.

Alpha. Alpha cares about us. She whispered in your ear.

Slowly returning to consciousness, you struggled to know where you were for a second.

You had been having a nightmare.

A full-fledged nightmare.

You hadn't had one of those in a while.

"... Where am I?" Your voice was gentle but confused.

You still didn't know if you were still in that godforsaken Hydra facility or not. But you just wanted to make sure.

"Here, doll. You're here with me. We're in Ohio, remember? Sharin' one bed together cause I don't wanna be a bad Alpha and letcha freeze to death." Bucky said.

You couldn't help it. You snuggled into him, hearing a deep rumble coming from his chest. Bucky's Alpha was pleased. Very pleased. Winter was quiet. Which surprised Bucky. The little shit was usually more vocal about his own needs these days.

For a moment, it felt okay. You felt that weird fog lifting. Your brain slowly settling in your current surroundings. Your sweet, filling scent that had twisted and burnt into something smoky and burnt was slowly wearing off.

You were still a little shaken up. You could still hear your screaming echoing in your head. Your voice trembling, and because you didn't know if you were still stuck in the facility, "How long?"

"Not long."

Bucky watched as you lifted your head up, blinking once. And then twice. And then again, just to be sure.

Your body felt like it still wasn't physically here. Your body still felt like it was back in the cryo chamber, stuck in that damn freezer. Bucky watched your chest heave up and down. Taking in deep breaths.

Then you flopped right back into your previous spot, your back facing his front. Bucky pulled you back with his metal arm. You heard the metal plates in his arm readjust and move. You couldn't help it. Your vagina throbbed at the sound. Chewing on your bottom lip, you wiggled a little bit.

A deep rumble had come from Bucky.

The metal-armed Alpha had pushed a little bit of his weight down on you. Making you feel all warm and safe with the sandalwood and salty scent wrapped all around you like a cocoon.

You wiggled up against him again, trying to get comfortable. Your eyes closed.

A deep groan came from Bucky.

Was he asleep?

You stopped moving.

Another groan came from Bucky. His arms were wrapped around you. Not tightly, but still. It was kinda nice in a way. You could feel every muscle on his broad chest against your back.

Maybe Bucky had the right idea to sleep naked after all.

You shifted again. Trying to wiggle out a little out of the embrace.

A deep growl rumbled from Bucky. His grip on you tightened. You squirmed against him again.

Voice gravelly, "Stop moving."

Your eyes flew open.

He was awake.

And you had been-

Letting out a hiss, Bucky pushed his entire weight onto you and grinded his half-hard cock against your ass cheeks. Not even caring about if his entire weight would crush you, because of the serum.

He saw red.

Pure absolute red.

You choked. A needy little whimper filled the room.

Bucky's metal hand traveled down, all the way down to your pussy, his knee pushing your legs apart. You were panting in anticipation, eyes wide as saucers. His metal fingers were shoved deep, all the way to the knuckles. A pitiful whine left your lips. A needy whine too.

When he entered you, a choked sob escaped from your lips. Your hands curled into fists, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the formerly brainwashed assassin let out a growl.

"So sick and tired of you teasin' me," was what the former Winter Soldier growled under his breath, hissing at the way your cunt wrapped around him. Slick was smeared around your inner thighs, and you couldn't help but sob at the feeling of being so full.

Bucky was groaning above you, his hands nearing shaking.

Never had he ever thought he could ever get to do this again.

Because Bucky very much still liked sex. He very much so was a sexual creature. Being inside you gave him flashes of his life before Hydra. It made him remember a much skinner, smaller Steve. A much duller, war-stricken Brooklyn. It made him remember the giggles of Omegas. It made him remember his Ma's cooking growing up. Rebecca's giggles in his ears. Just like the old times.

Not for the first time in his life, he didn't feel trapped.

He felt free.

This was freeing to him.

And when he began to move, position his hips against your back, smacking roughly. Good enough to leave marks in the morning.

Wet, squishing noise echoed noisily every time he bottomed out of you. Every thrust in, filling you, completing you. It sent you gasping and crying out into the pillows. His hands- both metal and flesh, reached under you, to grab ahold of your breasts in a tight grip that only made you sob for more.

"More, more, more, please James, please-"

Something snapped in him.

Broke.

Bucky had never felt this feral before. The last time he felt this feral had been the hours when he first presented.

You whined loudly when he slid out of you, crying out at the empty feeling. Your Omega screeched in alarm.

Why had her Alpha stopped? Why?

Grabbing ahold of your legs, he lifted them up. Before he thrusted back in again, filling you up to the brim. It was deeper than last time, and his cock hit that spongy part. Hit your g-spot so good that you screamed into the pillows.

You were coming. You were coming so fast, that deep coil inside you snapping like a bomb wire being cut that you never got the chance to feel your programs. Your body jolted, spasmed. Your legs lifted off of the bed or at least tried to. Bucky's body weight was still keeping you down. So all you could do was grip the bedsheets when Bucky started to pound into you again, taking all he could.

You couldn't help yourself. You glanced back, just to take a glimpse of him.

James Buchanan Barnes looked downright feral and your pussy clenched around him deeper at the sight. as if she knew.

Every thrust made him go deeper, hitting your cervix every time. It made your second orgasm piggyback off of your first one, sobbing into the pillows. It was only when your second orgasm came, your walls clenching down onto his cock that Bucky's teeth sank into your shoulder, shattering, breaking the skin there. The taste of copper filling his mouth. Bucky let out a grunt as he came. Filling you up with so much of his jizz that he was sure it would drip from you tomorrow morning.

Bucky lifted his mouth from your shoulder.

Pants filled the room as the two of you tried to regain yourselves.

Bucky shifted, moving off of you and lying beside you. His eyes weren't black anymore. They were back to their normal blue. They reminded you of the sea in the morning on a peaceful day.

Your hand came to touch his face. Your hand faltered, trembled though. Because you were nervous.

"It's okay," his voice was deeper, huskier. It made your pussy throb. "You can touch me. It's okay."

Your hands came to touch, cup his jaw. You leaned in, pressing your lips against his. His lips were soft. Your lips moved together, his tongue slipping into your mouth. The kiss became deeper. You hadn't expected it to become deeper. You had been just going for an innocent kiss.

You swore.

Like- you really did.

You didn't expect to be fully making out with James Buchanan Barnes.

But it wasn't like you were complaining though.

Because you weren't.

Bucky was the first one to pull away. He could see how red, bruised your lips looked. He didn't recoil from your gentle touch on his face. He welcomed it. He truly did. Hands holding your hips, he looked at you.

His lips traveled down to your mating gland. He touched over it with his tongue, giving it a broad lick. His teeth sank in, piercing the skin.

Your ears popped. You cried out. His grip on your hips didn't falter.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasped. Bucky lifted his mouth up from your gland, before sinking his teeth back in and biting again. Making his mark all that deeper.

It was only when he lifted his mouth from your gland, wiped your blood off of him with the blanket did you come at him, sinking your teeth into his gland. It made him grunt, even groan. His flesh hand came to your head, pushing your head down, making you sink your teeth even deeper into his gland.

"Yesss," hissed Bucky, his flesh hand sinking into your hair, gripping it. "Deeper, doll. Go deeper."

Winter and his Alpha completely agreed.

Theirs.

You were theirs.

After what seemed an eternity, you lifted your head up. Wiping your mouth on the blanket, you spoke.

"I missed you. What did you do to get us paired on this mission? I thought I was going with Sam," you said to your Alpha. A smirk stretched over Bucky's lips. "Ah," your Alpha said, still smirking, "I might've put something in his drink to make him vomit his guts out. He got sick."

A noise came from you.

"You gave him food poisoning? James!" You scolded him. Bucky leaned back against the headboard. "Don't worry doll, it'll wear off when we come back to the Compound. Bird Brain won't even know what hit him."

You shook your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable, Sasha. Did you teach Natalia that trick, too? Hmm? She and all of your Widow students?"

Bucky was still grinning ear to ear at you when he responded back.

"Well little bird, someone had to teach them. After all, I was their teacher. They all called me Yasha. Speaking of my Widow students..." he trailed off in Russian. You looked at him.

"You've contacted one of the KBG? About that leaked Russian tape with the orange man that is, unfortunately, our President?" He asked you. You nodded. "Yeah, Sasha. Everything's going as planned. Although, I think assassinating the orange man would've been a much better option. We would've gone in there and made it a done deal by now! Fuckin' Steve and his righteous self." You grumbled unhappily.

"Hmm. It would've been great as a date night. Don't you think, doll?" Bucky drawled. You gave a serious nod.

"Although... seeing him freak out on Twitter is much, much better. The tea is better when it's hot." You grinned. Bucky just let out a sigh.

"I'm restricting your phone privileges. And your TV privileges. You need to stop watching those drama channels, Mega."

A noise of deep discomfort came from you.

"Sasha!" you whined, "then what will I do while you're gone on missions?"

"Wait for me to come back?" Bucky suggested. You just sighed. Even shook your head in fondest. You happily snuggled up to your Alpha, your nose rubbing up against your Mate's gland. "I always wait for you to come back, Sasha. I wait and I worry. I love you, James."

A deep rumble came from your Mate.

"I love you too, Little Omega."

Your head peeked up.

"So, can we tell the rest of the team when I leak the tape?" You asked, your eyes glimmering with mischief.

Bucky burst out laughing.

"Yes, yes, yes. We can tell them once you've wreaked havoc, Omega."

"Good." You were nodding seriously, in complete agreement. "It'll be fun. And... also, I forgot to tell you."

The joyful expression on Bucky's face was suddenly replaced with one of worry.

"What? What is it?" He asked gently. "When you were gone for your last mission two months ago... I... I came off of my suppressants. I'm ready, James. I want a family with you."

Shock flickered over Bucky's face. And then he was shoving you back into the bed with a shriek coming from you.

"When's your pre-heat?" He demanded.

You felt it. A cramp. It made you whimper.

"N-Now, James. Now," you stammered. Your Alpha pulled your legs apart roughly before he thrusted back into you, making you gasp.

"Say it," he hissed. "Say you want it. Say you want my knot. Say you want my pups."

"I want it, James." Your voice was a low whisper, even staggering a little bit. "I want your knot. I want your pups. Please. Please, Sasha."

His hands, both metal, and flesh gripped your shoulder tight as that vein of his neck nearly popped. His eyes were black with want. Soon, his Rut would be upon him and he'd breed you. Put his pup in you. You'd carry his pup. He'd have the pack that Winter and his Alpha desperately wanted after all these years.

A whine came from you when he pulled out, only to let out a scream when he thrusted back in. Hitting that part of you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth fell open, but no words came out.

His pace was brutal, not even letting you hold onto him. Your hands were left to grip the bedsheets again. You gripped them so tight that your knuckles turned white and you thought that they were going to pop.

Bucky continued to push, continued to shove his ejaculate deeper and deeper inside of you. A mixture of your slick and his ejaculate smeared all over your thighs and trickled down your legs, and you just didn't know what was happening. Your hindbrain was telling you that this was what was needed. That your designation wanted, nay, demanded this. After all the shit you had gone through, your Omega had found her Alpha and now, now she was determined to have a family. Have the pack she desperately desired.

"Mine."

A harsh thrust made you sob.

"You're mine now. I waited for you for so long. Wanted you for so long. You're mine now. Got my Mark. Got my clothes in your nest. Gonna give you my name. Gonna give you my pups. You're mine. All mine. Say you're mine. Say it!"

You came screaming. Your orgasm making you see white. Bucky continued slamming into you, the wet, squishing noises coming from your pussy becoming louder and louder the more he pushed in. Your teeth sank into his flesh shoulder, shattering and piercing the skin there. You tasted copper in your mouth.

Bucky came with a shout. He shoved you back completely, making you shriek. And then he was leaning in again, sinking his teeth into your gland. Making another deep mark. It made you fall limp into the bed as his knot swelled, locking the two of you in place.

He lifted his head.

Being inside you... knotted inside of you... it was bliss. It was just as good as cockwarming. His cock all nestled deep inside of you whenever you two would sneak off to sleep together.

"Bite me again. Give me your mark, Omega." he panted. Slowly, your head went up, you slowly sat up, before taking in a deep breath and sinking your teeth back into his gland.

Home.

You had brought Bucky home. He held you tight, whispering in your ear how much he loved you and how much of a good Omega you were.

"I love you Omega." His voice was rough.

Lifting your head from his gland. Blood still trickling down the corners of your mouth. You offered him a smile. A genuine one. One that made his stomach all fluttery.

"I love you too, Alpha."

[phoenixyfriend]

SW Suddenly-Omegaverse AU: Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom

Truly the main irony of all this is that everyone considers Obi-Wan the Better Omega but Anakin is the one who's actually 👀👀👀 about pregnancy

Obi-Wan: I have the deepest respect for those who do it, but the idea of growing another person inside of me is weird and gross, no, thank you.

Meanwhile Anakin is like. Immediate baby fever. Someone actually approaches him like "hey... there are forms you can fill out to request an exception for pregnancy, and like... regulations" because he's that obvious about it.

I assume that if they've got safety nets for accidental pregnancies, then they're probably aware that there are people who want to do it on purpose? I feel like in an omegaverse where 'biological imperative to procreate' can be so much more intense, then maybe there's old precedent that stuck around even after suppressants got most of those hormones under better control.

Bit torn. Just know I want Anakin to Make Baby.

"Anakin, what are you--" "Do you think offering to be someone's surrogate would be acceptable to the council as a way to be pregnant without getting attached." "...what." "They'd probably accept that as a way to practice not getting attached, right?" "N...no, that's not... what?"

Anakin approaching Bail and Breha and being like “Do you... still want a kid? I would provide a kid. Do you want one here*?”

* in this dimension

Great way to give up the baby as a parent because he'd still be able to see them once in a while but also like... it's not HIS kid, technically. He can be a cool uncle who happened to give birth, which is distant enough to not be 'attached,' but close enough that his Tatooine-raised 'must ensure family is safe whenever possible' background doesn't flip out. It helps that 'Core World Royalty' is like... a top-tier family to be raised in.

(It would have to be post-war because he probably shouldn’t be risking his life while very pregnant. He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.)

Bail/Breha is an alpha/alpha relationship and while a pregnancy is still possible,* it’s a whole lot more difficult, and that's on top of Breha's canon medical issues that resulted in her heart and lungs getting replaced.

* AFAB alphas can get pregnant, and AMAB omegas can inseminate, but the success rate on that angle is much lower than the 'traditional' alpha/omega roles, as is any attempt at reproduction outside rut/heat. They're low-fertility overall for the non-dominant aspect of their reproductive system, which... ha, Anakin and Obi-Wan try to get explanations for why the senary system works the way it does, but it's a very longform history lesson that comes down to 'idk this got cemented so long ago that nobody really knows why anymore.'

AKA "why do you title these roles male omega and female alpha instead of intersex omega and intersex alpha since both parties have both genitals."

ANYWAY

Anakin: I want to make babies. But I don't want to get kicked out of the order. But I don't want to give up my own babies for adoption. But I can't keep my own babies if I want to stay a Jedi. So basically I want to have someone else's babies? Anakin: ...wait shit that's just surrogacy.

Anakin, calling up Obi-Wan: Hey are the Organas still struggling to have a kid? Obi-Wan: ...not really your business. Anakin: You're friends with Bail again though, right? Obi-Wan: I am, but-- Anakin: Do you think they'd want me to be a surrogate? Obi-Wan: What.

I can't decide if it's funnier for the Order to be like "I mean... technically there's no rules against this?" or if this is a precedent set by at least three omegas every generation because that's just how a/b/o manifested for omegas in a biological and cultural sense.

Bail: Wait, your former apprentice is... volunteering... to be our surrogate. Obi-Wan, exhausted: Yes. Bail: He barely knows us. Obi-Wan: He respects you and you're the closest people he knows that want a child and would be good parents. Bail: And he's just... volunteering? Obi-Wan: Yes. Also, you did say your primary worry was that a surrogate might be targeted for assassination and you couldn't ask someone to risk that, right? Anakin is very much able to avoid assassins, and would be staying primarily in the Temple anyway. Very safe, and not particularly scared of assassins in the first place. Bail: Your words say you approve, but your tone says otherwise. Obi-Wan: Anakin considers me his father. I'm not old enough to be a grandparent. Bail: Ah.

Anakin is a surrogate and enjoys it and everything is fine and then like a year later he's accidentally pregnant with his own and Rex's kid, and nobody knows how to ask if it's actually an accident.

A suggestion from @gelpenss:

OH MAN i.... have to drive home. But I just had a thought about like. I always want to poke at Betas in A/B/O like are they “normal” or different from our standard or.... but ANYWAY assuming they have a pheromonal thing I just think it would be neat if betas had the ability to be the Bucket of Cold Water. Like if caught early enough, and with the caveat it’s not permanent, a beta could arrest a rut or heat in its tracks until a more ideal time. Like. They aren’t birth control. But they are the remind me later button.

Okay done driving I am Returned to bring up why I brought up betas and it’s this: well okay 1. It plays nice with a popular but inaccurate dog breeding urban legend that female dogs will like, delay heat cycles? so that the bitches above them in pack hierarchy have first choice of mate selection. And I think in omegaverse it would be cool if that was a Bio Fact, and also historically enforced by the third designation. 2. It gives me an excuse to have betas have the Most Sensitive sense of smell because it’s their “job” to pick up on things before they go too far to be put on pause. 3. I’m just thinkin ‘bout a beta clone [...] just hovering around Obi-Wan because they found out how much stress his heat cycle causes and they’re like “okay cool I will help make sure it does Not”

I want to like a/b/o verses but betas niggle at me. I want to give them a hat and a Function that woulda helped before modern medicine.

I'm not sure how I feel about betas being able to delay heats, but I do like the idea of them having a more sensitive sense of pheromone smell than most. Most aliens assume it's omegas with the best sense of smell, and betas with the worst, but it's more complicated than that because they all specialize: Alphas are actually less attuned to pheromone smells, but more attuned to things that were useful back when humans were still a hunter-gatherer species. Omegas tend to be heightened towards danger smells like fire or aggression, and pheromones relating to children/care. Betas, as suggested above, are very sensitive to pheromone changes relating to mood and behavior of the community around them.

I like the idea that betas were historically the ones that ended up taking care children, unmated omegas, and so on during people's heats and ruts, because they kept their heads about themselves long enough to do things like cook and clean while someone was reeking of hormones. The checks and balances work out that betas may have lower fertility, but it makes them better able to support the network around them.

It works in with humanity's general collective history of thriving the most when working as a community.

Given that I decided that this is Jangobi, the clones might all subconsciously view Obi-Wan as Mom. Not intentionally, but, you know... Obi-Wan the not-evil stepmother. He doesn't know how he got into this situation, but he sure is here, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to get out.

Obi-Wan "I don't need to get pregnant, I have three million stepchildren" Kenobi

I definitely love "clones all want to make Obi-Wan's heats less stressful" but like in a different way from Whatever The Fuck Anakin's Got Going On.

Obi-Wan using the force to dull the pain in a Shiny's broken leg while the medic works on it and the Shiny just mumbles "Thanks mom" and everyone gets very embarrassed and pretends it didn't happen.

But then it happens again. And again.

Obi-Wan asks for an explanation from Cody and gets a halting response that, since Jango is technically their father, and his scent has been all over Obi-Wan recently... and Obi-Wan puts in a lot of effort to take care of them all.......

Anakin overhears the clones calling Obi-Wan "mom" and just. The most judgmental eyebrow raise.... Mostly in the sense of "You never let me call you dad" "Thought you said you weren't anyone's parent." "Hey, hey, Obi-Wan. What the fuck."

BOBA. BOBA ABSOLUTELY CALLS OBI-WAN MOM WHENEVER POSSIBLE. IT'S DEEPLY FRUSTRATING.

Obi-Wan eventually manages to admit that he's uncomfortable with it at minimum because of the gendering the word has for him, can they at least use the neutral 'buir' instead?

Word spreads like fire, takes like two days max for everyone to switch.

(Anakin demands cuddles as compensation for not getting to call Obi-Wan any true parental term for years.)