#the other waitress is a mesh of all the waitress i've worked with

[anotherwellkeptsecret]

To a Stranger: Prologue & 1-5

This comic is based on a true story--about how a lonely waitress by day and artist by night crosses paths with the man who stood up for her when they were children.

This comic does not have a set update schedule. I will draw pages as time allows. Please enjoy!

[beloveddawn-blog]

Writing Share Tag

Thanks to @leahnardo-da-veggie for the tag. If we're sharing snippets, I've got one I love but am rarely in enough of a Mood to work on. Everyone in it is running on adrenaline and rage, so I need to be somewhat worked up myself for it to mesh. It's the second part of a writing prompt I did ~15 months ago, when I was in a very different sort of mood in general.

I used to do bits and peices on my commute, because I hate mornings, but now that I have a car I have to focus on things like shifting and the lights and other drivers and I don't have time for writing first thing in the morning ;)

The outfit didn’t fit anymore.

Stupid. I thought to myself, irritated and <hurtscareddeterminedFURIOUS> fidgety. It had been almost two years, of course it didn’t hang quite right anymore. It was a stupid thing to be distracted by, anyway. I never used to have this problem. I used to go into combat, any combat, even verbal <tradingbarbswiththatGODDAMNASSHOLE> with all of my attention so tightly focussed that nothing else could bother me. Oh, it wasn’t that I had blinders on, I had always been prepared for a flanking maneouver or attack from behind, but more that I could go days without thinking to eat.

My record had been four days, and afterwards I’d gorged myself on Denny’s breakfasts at four AM until I was sick in the bathroom. The waitress had brought me mint tea when she came to check on me, then gave me a pep talk about exams. As if I would have taken advice on my education from someone working the night shift at Denny’s.

She had been kind, however, in a way I hadn’t recognized at the time. That I could think that now was just proof of how much time I had spent with That Asshole.

That was the focus point I needed, and it was as if the tension in me had just flowed out. I welcomed my old anger <fearfearFEAR> back and let it soothe me. I didn’t have time for nerves, or even reason. Nerves were for people who weren’t in complete control of the situation, and I was a master at running other people’s scenes.

It would be just like old times.

Except that my outfit didn’t fit.

*

My saunter was a goddamn work of art, though not one often appreciated. It combined insolence and complete domination together in a way that could make even those who should be my peers feel both disrespected and completely cowed. The cadence was unique to me and very recognizeable, though today it was… off. I should have practiced it in my exile, I thought, regretting that those damn ducks had never had the opportunity to witness my true splendor. I could feel the special armour plating cut ever so slightly into my thigh as I continued up to the dais where That Asshole was.

The violent lab experiment before me offered me a polite-yet-furious smile, but the captive bound before him was livid. Even I had never seen That Asshole as angry as he was now, and I had spent most of the last four years pissing him off on purpose <twoyearsthenanotherthenThatIncident>.

It was a little vexing that this was what it took to make him lose his cool, when I had captured him myself before. The punk-ass wannabe we had here didn’t deserve it.

I flexed my fingers slightly, then stilled them. The gloves pulled wrong, and besides, fidgets were tells.

I gave him a polite smile back, one that hid my own disdain much better. “Poaching in my woods, are we now? Awful bold of you.” I purred, enjoying the way it made both men flinch. 

The villian responded first, but to be entirely fair to That Asshole, he was wearing a gag.

“Poaching?” He protested, drawing his self-righteousness around him like it would protect him. Like it was a shield.

Like it wasn’t a shroud.

I smiled back, sharp enough to cut. “Of course. Did you think I forgot my old arch-nemesis simply because he retired? You might have the memory of the goldfish you’ve somehow managed to splice yourself with, but I hold myself to a higher standard.”

That Asshole snorted, and I couldn’t help myself. I preened a bit. I played it off by nonchalantly checking my nails, completely disregarding the fact that my outfit had gloves. The clasp pinched slightly at my wrist, newly too tight.

My opponent gaped his big, stupid mouth and bulging eyes at me, obviously incensed. “Who are you to claim…” He began, before my incandescent rage poured out of me, responding to his jab in a way none of us expected.

“Who am I?” I thundered, the automatic reverberation built into my mask’s voicebox kicking in with the volume. “WHO AM I??? You dare to question me, and my credentials, as if the city isn’t still scarred from me? As if citizens don’t still quake in terror at the mention of me? As if the county hasn’t retired my colours like they were a goddamn number on a hockey jersey because of all the chaos they still inspire?” I had stalked closer as I spoke, venom so obviously radiating from me it may as well be visible.

Goldfish-Fucker cowered before me, and even That Asshole flinched back from my caustic vitriol. Give him credit, though, he rallied surprisingly well in the face of my terrifying visage and unnerving musical accompaniment.

Look, it was actually a great idea. Playing sub-audible music clues was such an easy way to sway people into the emotional range I wished them to be in. Currently it was The Imperial March. 

“No one has heard from, or even of you since that last great fight.” He insisted, hideous bulbous eyes lighting up as he came up with a rebuttal. As if this was fair, or logical, or some sort of formal debate he could win if he only made the right argument.

As if this wasn’t simply his life hanging by a thread and at my whim.

I laughed at him, high and cruel and designed to drag claws up and down his spine, shredding him as they went. “The city is still scarred from that last great fight.” I reminded him, unable to help glancing towards That Asshole. I knew he still cried about it, the big baby. “I have no interest in a pyrrhic victory. The city is of no use to me if it has been razed. My reach is not contained by my physical dimensions, even if yours is. Similarly, I will gain no pleasure from watching my nemesis scramble while his beloved city falls willingly into my hand if he is pre-broken. When I have finished securing my power in areas a little less paranoid and gun-shy, I will delight in watching this protected metropolis attempt to hold out as some sort of supposed bastion of righteousness, the desperate defence led by this man. And he would have led it. I would have removed the foundation stones of his retirement one. Block. At. A. Time until he had no other choice." I smiled again, my mask twisting grotesquely to follow it. It had taken me weeks to make the Lovecraftian-style Uncanny Valley of it the right balance of effortless and disturbing.

Goldfish-fucker seemed properly cowed, but That Asshole was now just looking at me with these big, sad, soulful eyes, and I almost caved and started assuring him I didn't mean it.

Almost.

I winged out one shoulder blade, knowing the plating in my outfit would hide the motion. The whole thing tightened across the front, as the muscle I'd built building our house had never gone away. This time the reminder was purposeful, even if it still <hurtscaredproudnervous> annoyed me. I was the best damn villain around, and it was because of my plans and my follow-through. And also, for the first time ever…

I wasn't just in it for me.

I didn't need to foil this dickhead of a low-budget hot mess of a villain. That's what superheroes were for. Including the ones trying desperately to find us, for the sake of their beloved former leader. The ones that had ignored my calls and my advice. The ones that would have been too late.

Maybe this guy wouldn't have learned from the classic mistakes. Maybe it would be fine, and he'd monologue until the city’s less competent heroes foiled him.

Or maybe it wouldn't.

Maybe That Asshole would have been dead before they got to him.

It had been close twice, with me. The only thing that had saved him, oddly enough, had been my age. I didn't have as high of a body count as I probably should, true, but I had never worried about ending others' lives. What I definitely hadn't been able to handle was cold blooded murder. I'd been psyching myself up for it when he had escaped or been rescued.

This guy was a rampaging chaos sort of villain, though. He actively grew his body count.

And That Asshole wasn't going to be one of them.

I sighed dramatically, slouching artfully down to look commanding and comfortable while also peeved and crossed my arms. "You've ruined that plan now, though, so thanks for that. I was going to enjoy it. Savour it. But no. You decided to try and fill my shoes, as if I should ever be counted out without a body." I lifted one hand and gave a nonchalant twisting-wave. "Now I need to unfuck your bullshit, because I refuse to let a bottom-dwelling guppy like you prevent me from claiming my total victory when the time is right." Behind me, the nanites that had been flooding the room while I distracted Goldfish-fucker suddenly coalesced. It looked like writhing, pulsing black tentacles shot through with my neon green and purple accent colours had sprouted from all flat surfaces in the room.

Both men jumped, and I smirked, making sure my body language oozed disrespect. The tentacles grabbed both of them, and I laughed again. Goldfish-fucker was panicking and struggling, but I could tell That Asshole's fight was mostly for show. Oh, he was still restrained from his first kidnapping, but still. Even power-dampening cuffs didn't prevent him from being clever and slippery, as I well knew.

The smile I gave them then was specifically designed to look like rows upon rows of serrated shark-like teeth. It was a particularly unsettling one, I knew, because even That Asshole flinched when I gave it. I zeroed in on him, completely ignoring the other villain for a moment. The fire in his eyes was one I recognized from before: he was furious.

Good. I thought. So am I.

The wink I gave him was well hidden from my would-be successor, but it did nothing to diffuse the rage-fueled bunching of muscles or the way his jaw clenched so hard on the gag I could hear his teeth grind. I snaked out one hand to grab him by the face. The side the villain was on was too tight, the plating on my fingers digging into soft, soft flesh. Too soft, really, but his healing factor must be the cause. His skin never stayed damaged long enough to become tough. It would explain why his skin care routine was non-existent as well, as he naturally had flawless skin with no effort.

Asshole.

“You,” I purred, my voice just the right amount possessive to send shivers down my audience’s back, “Can come with me. We have some… catching up to do.”

For tags I'll do @evilgabe29 @acertainmoshke @stesierra @minnieposting @artistvicky and @poetinlovewithflowersonhisgrave

[trash-gobby]

Could I request a hellboy x reader where reader has had a rough day and they come to his room crying so he comforts them(I would like a gender neutral reader pls)

A/N: Fluff fic of Hellboy comforting the Reader after a long day.

Word Count: 881

Pairings: Hellboy X GN!Reader

Characters: Hellboy, Reader

RATING: PG

⚠️Warnings!: None.

The days are always long, and after a while they seem to blend together in a mesh of mundane tasks and repetitious responsibilities. It had been weeks since you'd had some time to just rest. Every day you'd woken up at dawn and worked non-stop whether it be at your part-time job waitressing at the crappy diner downtown, or on the multitude of coursework that had been piling up over the semester. It had felt like a never ending slog towards nowhere for you, and your stress level only caused more aggravation.

It'd been so long since you’d actually gotten to have a one on one with anyone, that when you sluggishly pulled yourself through the door and threw yourself on the sofa eyes puffy from all the tears you'd cried over your most recent shift at the diner. It had been a nightmare. You completely missed the giant red man standing on your balcony. At least not until you heard the light rapping on the glass, like someone was throwing a stone at your window.

Looking up, you see Hellboy's stone finger on the glass of the balcony sliding door, and a knowing smile on his face. You try to return his smile with your own but it feels more like a wince then a smile. Getting up from the couch and trudging your way over, you meet him, opening the sliding door.

"Hey," you say, voice cracked from the sobbing you did in the car on the way home.

"Hey there," he replies, placing a hand on your shoulder, you placing one of yours over his.

"You look worse for ware."

"Your telling me. I've been nothing but busy and this day has been the last straw."

"Want to talk about it?" He asks as you pull him slowly by the hand into your living-room. Hellboy's steps are heavy over the hardwood of the floor as the two of you make your way over to the couch, and sit down.

"Honestly I'd rather not, it's all just been to much," You respond, placing your fingers on your temples while leaning forward, beginning to massage an oncoming migraine at just the thought of trying to explain your busy schedule to anyone. The prickling feeling of hot tears threatening to pour forth once again makes you take a sharp intake of air.

"I can understand that, there's some days where I don't want to talk. Just sit down with a beer, some of my furry babies and watch the tube." You chuckle at this little response before leaning back onto the couch, hands laced behind your head looking up at the cracked plaster in your ceiling. You were going to have to call the landlord about the water damage, it's starting to look a little grim.

"I just wish life would stop for a moment, it all feels like it's going so fast, like I'm stuck on a carousel from hell and my head just won't stop spinning." The tears pooling in your eyes finally spill over causing you to use one of your hands to wipe them furiously away and stifle a sob.

You feel a hand on your arm, as Hellboy scooches closer to you, making the couch groan dangerously, threatening to buckle under his weight.

"Hey, hey there, I've got you," He says softly, coaxing you into a comforting embrace. You bury your face into his chest and finally let yourself just feel all those emotions that you'd really been bottling in this entire year. The sobs came out harder and harder with each breath you tried to take in. All the while Hellboy used his other hand to run it over your hair.

It felt good to have someone just be there with you, even if you didn't want to explain, you just needed to release. He was the perfect person for this, he knew how to really listen to you when you were struggling, or just being present. You desperately tried not to hyperventilate through your crying, gripping onto Hellboy's duster.

You'd somehow ended up half in his lap, but you didn't care, it felt safe. However, you were both interrupted by a loud mewling noise from one of his large pockets. This makes you start, wiping the mess that is your face with your sleeve.

"What is that?" you ask sniffling through your stuffed nose.

"Oh, jeez," Hellboy reacts quickly, diving into his pocket and retrieving whatever made the sound. In the palm of his stone hand is a tiny kitten, fluffy and vulnerable with it's large dark eyes. You couldn't help but melt a little looking at it, as it swiped playfully at one of Hellboy's fingers.

"Aww, where did you find this little guy," you say.

"He was just wandering in a back alley and I couldn't just leave him," Hellboy replied as you gently reached out your hand and petted the kitten gently.

"Well I could use some kitten therapy right now, so I guess perfect timing." So you both sat there. You half in Hellboy's lap with the kitten, just enjoying each others company along with the little bundle of fur curled in the palm of his hand. This was exactly what you needed at the end of another long day.