#this is the only cap I took reading black bird ; ;

[luveline]

bombshell finds tickets to a russian movie thing sitting in spencer’s desk at work and they’re about to like run out (?) so she presents them to spencer and asks him on a date and pretends that she didn’t just pull them out of spencers desk in that bombshell way

You’re looking for gum. If Spencer were at his desk, you’d politely beg for a stick and he’d give it to you, but he’s not here, so you must search. 

You sit in his seat, slinking down as he does with poor posture, your kitten heels hitting the spine of a book kept under the desk. Your dress’ skirt rises up your thighs, the fabric at your neck pulls, but you have bigger problems. You’re feeling the weird franticness of unspent energy and only a stick of gum is gonna fix you. 

He has a drawer full of things, neatness traded for space. Blue and pink paper clips in an arrowhead shaped box. Push pins of all colours, their box more ordinary. He has a travel book on indigenous North American birds with stamps held between the pages, a plastic bottle cap, train stubs from Quantico to the station outside of his apartment and a bottle of ibuprofen missing half of its contents. 

Your fingers dig around for the familiar shape of a packet of gum, hesitating thoughtfully against the thread of a thicker cardstock. 

You pull a cream envelope from the desk and, perhaps wrongfully, unveil the contents: two tickets to see any Russian flick at the foreign language theatre free of charge (if you buy a large drink). They expire tonight. 

You press them to your chest and spin in Spencer’s chair without any regard for whoever might see you slouching. Across the office with his hair out of his face and a smile bordering lackadaisical stands your favourite. He even has a pencil in hand. He likes to underline things in the books he reads for your benefit. It’s the pencil that decides your next move. 

You stand up, brushing down your nice dress that he seems to like, a black cotton with thin pinstripes settling nicely just above your knees. You check your lipstick in the black reflection of his sleeping monitor, buzzing. 

He’s watching you when you turn back. You hide the tickets behind your hip and begin a light walk to his side, the chug of the printer a constant hum you can feel in your shoes. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder ever so slightly. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” He squints. “You’re acting strange.” 

“Suspicious,” you correct. 

“That, too.” 

“How come you let me hold your hand?” 

Spencer doesn’t hide his surprise at your question very well. His eyes turn deer in the headlights, then down to the printer. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“When we first met, you wouldn’t shake my hand. And that’s okay,” —your smile is loving in the hope that he finds your question as the curiosity it is and not an interrogation— “I’m just wondering what changed.” 

“I was distracted.” He’s talking about the first time you took his hand, the two of you on the way to the office. “You stopped me from being late.” 

“Right, but I should’ve asked and I didn’t. And now we hold hands all the time.” You take a half step back. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, I’m just wondering.”

“Nobody’s held my hand in a really long time. And you’re mostly clean.” 

“Mostly!” you laugh, giving him a guilty smile. “I’m super clean, I just forget how gross door handles are sometimes.”

You have embarrassed him, in a way. It’s really not what you meant to do, not when you’re about to ask him on a date. 

Ever since you started your official position at the BAU, you and Spencer have grown closer, but there’s a difference between flirting because he’s lovely and flirting because you want him to be your boyfriend. (Not that he knows what you want.) You shouldn’t have started with the hand holding thing. 

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you go on a date with me?” You present him with the movie tickets. “Got these, they expire tonight…”

“Are those from my desk?” he asks, taking the tickets from you to look over closely. 

“I’d love to go with you, unless you’re gonna take someone else, which is fine.” You embarrass yourself a little, even though you’re not, hoping it makes up for the hand-holding investigation. “Yeah, they’re from your desk. Sorry. I really wanted a stick of gum, my– my nervous energy is through the roof today.” 

Spencer frowns at you again. “How come?” he asks softly. 

“I don’t know. It just happens sometimes.” 

And that’s nothing you’ve ever admitted to him. Your perfect mask is broken, and Spencer doesn’t look at you any differently. “Do you actually wanna go to the movies?” he asks. 

“Only if I’m not stealing you away from somebody else.” 

“There’s no one else.”

Spencer abruptly turns his attention to the printer, where he collects his copies and shuffles them into a straight, neat pile. 

You recover quickly, though inside your heart is a stuttering mess. “I should hope not,” you say. “Okay. Awesome. I’ll bring hand sanitiser and you can hold my hand through the previews.” 

[diejager]

I've been reading the Stepfather! Konig fic and I had just an idea. What if to get away and feel at least some safety reader fakes their death and joins the military with many fake names and constantly changes up themself to keep safe and away from König and Horangi?

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, military, recruitment, enlisting, military inaccuracies, tell me if I missed any.

Where was the best place to hide? The last place they would look, right under their nose. You managed - somehow - to keep your papers a secret from them, you were lucky they dealt with things online on encrypted servers, keeping it as hush-hush as possible. Fortunately, there weren’t many requirements for enlisting, all they had asked was your age, level of education and citizenship, some vague papers about you and that was all. You bode your time, leaning on your freedom when you left the house to hit the gym to get a head start in your training, pack a bit of muscle and get into a tight routine to get used to it before you joined; and buying the few things you’d need to build you stage with the few materials and story you made up. 

You were prepared when the time came, just a week before your training and your body thrummed with adrenaline and anxiety, slowly finishing off your plan. And when the time was right, you struck, vanishing with the car that you drove into the lake, you made sure that it was deep enough to be left untouched until you had at least finished your training. It was a stroke of luck, sheer luck that you made it to the base, flashing your papers and given a permit to meet the major of the base to receive your identification once you passed the examinations and interview. 

“Welcome to hell, cadet!” Were the first words you heard in the mass, dressed in the black and white uniform of the navy you stood ramrod with others beside you. 

They separated men and women in the early stages of training, once the selections were done, they’d mix both sex and leave them to train and learn together. It was a gruelling process, the physical and mental exhaustion of it all almost made you crash more than once, mind on the brink of frustration and muscles worn into painful bruises. You’d seen friends - made through nights of venting and moaning about life - and acquaintances quit early or halfway through the training and education. They were weeding out the weaker ones, the less competent and determined from the rest. You feared being picked of quitting, but you powered through it, all your blood, sweat and tears culminated to your graduation nearly eleven weeks later. 

You could stand with pride in yourself, head held high as you received your praises from the major, his rough voice echoing through the room in congratulations. You took your oaths and were given a white uniform and a hat, the black cap and gold encrusted hat that gleamed under the sun. You were proud; you were happy; you felt accomplished and free. You thought of flying, to be and feel as free as the birds that soar the skies, perhaps you’d join the aviation branch of the Navy. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea, to be moved and passed around wherever you were needed, never staying in one place made finding you much harder if König and Horangi found your bluff. 

But you’d gone so far, done so much to take things back or be taken back. You’d accomplished something with what little you had and you knew- You knew that your mother would be so proud of you for persevering. 

“I miss you, mom,” you kissed the sole picture of your mother, the only thing you thought worth keeping, “I’m sorry, I miss you.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[shoshiwrites]

Decided to try my hand at a little postwar. Big thank you to @basilone for the prompts that inspired this ♡ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3! NSFW.

the nearness of you

The table’s littered in paper, a handful of pens, black-red-blue, the bound copy of her manuscript beside, her wristwatch, the coffee cup separated from its saucer.

The clock behind her, above the stove, reads just after one. 

She should probably try and get some sleep, she knows, but he’s due back in tonight, the tiny D. C. apartment they share until the paperwork goes through on a house. She hasn’t seen it in person yet, but he’s told her about it. Says she’ll love it. It’s got a nook for her desk, he says, a big window to the backyard.

A yard.

That’s a new thing, too. Hydrangea bushes and trees to watch the birds.

She inspects the coffee grounds at the bottom of the mug, dark specks in the dim light of the bulb above her head. There’s more sugar to be had now, a whole canister of it there on the counter, labeled in blue, and she can’t break the habit of only sprinkling a touch with the tiny spoon.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to it, waiting.

It's not like she hasn't done. The landscapes blur in her mind, the muddied boots, the blood, the tall dry grass, the leaden skies and swoops of birds — starlings, and the flies.

The radio next to the canisters of sugar and salt punches out the program sign-off in static, the tinny “Star-Spangled Banner“ that follows. She keeps it on for the baseball games, when he’s not here. The noise keeps her company, the promise that he’ll ask about the scores. Thank you for listening. Good night and good morning.

She makes it through half of the next page before she hears the turn of the lock.

“In here,” she says, like a stage-whisper, and her voice is thick, like she’s been sleeping. Like she hasn’t spoken since he left. 

“You’re up,” he says, and it’s a statement and a question at once, colored by his own face and curls that look like they might have seen a moment of shut-eye in the back of a taxi. He sounds a little surprised, maybe that she’s awake, that she’s greeted him before he’s opened his mouth. His cap must be by the door, and no need for an overcoat in the summer. She knows it’s only the hour and the neighbors that have kept him from coming in with a boom. He looks tired, the same softness to his face that she knows comes from exhaustion. She wonders how he’s been sleeping.

It’s the usual questions and answers, slow this time, and still rushed — have you eaten, how was the train, how’s the story going, hear anything good, and the last one means she gets to produce the little scrap of paper with her pencil marks, the scribbled notes. Two to one Yankees. Chandler walked nine in the first four innings but took a no-hitter into the ninth. Someone hit a one-out single. He guesses until he hits the name that rings a bell. She nods, and his eyes crinkle in delight — at the win, at the paper, at her own eyes warm with love.

He sees the manuscript pages too, the coffee grounds, the hunch of her shoulders. There’s a question in it, like maybe it’s not going as fine as she says it is. She reaches for him. “I missed you.” Maybe it doesn’t help anything, saying that, when this is what they do. Have done. Maybe it does. He smells a little bit like a smoking lounge, the faint scent of aftershave applied many hours earlier.

“Missed you too,” he says, wrapping his arms around her when she stands. “I missed my wife.”

She doesn’t know when she’ll get used to that, either.

Maybe she doesn’t feel like one, a wife, here with a dirty plate in the sink, and the coffeemaker that needs cleaning, and her slacks, and her hair curling away from her forehead.

He kisses the top of her head and maybe she does, here in his arms.

“How much,” she asks, and the feeling gathers in her throat, something tumbling.

He pulls back, the smallest smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d say — a hell of a lot.” He cups her face with his hand, traces his thumb at her chin, kisses her like he’s passing a secret. “A whole hell of a lot.”

“Mmph,” she says, into his shoulder, and he looks like he might laugh.

“How much for you?”

She tucks a curl behind his ear. “”Bout the same. Maybe more.”

“More, huh?”

She pokes her tongue into his mouth, in the next kiss. His hands grasp the small of her back, his fingertips wandering lower. She shivers when he travels beneath the hem of her top, skims his fingers along the bare skin of her hip.

“John-” Her voice is a little breathy now, half-serious. “Don’t go starting something you can’t finish.”

“Now, just what are you accusing me of, Josephine?” His thumb presses against her hip, a promise. She starts to unbutton his jacket, the back of her hand falling to ghost against the front of his trousers. “Where’s the goddamn couch?”

They’d moved it to the spot themselves, not-so-gracefully accounting for the difference in their heights. It’s not as plush or as comfortably upholstered as either of them would really like, but they’re not about to waste too much time complaining. He settles himself over her, or tries to, hipbones framing hers. 

She bites her tongue with a crack about needing coffee, even though she knows he’d laugh. He’s like that, he can laugh at himself. She lets him work his hand between her legs, over the brown herringbone. 

Maybe they didn’t think it through either, as clothed as they are. It doesn’t stop either of them, her from pulling him down to her mouth, the wet kisses and flushed cheeks, the growing hardness of him under the olive wool.

They hardly wiggle out of them, the inconvenient trousers, just enough for her to grab at the back of his thigh and squeeze. “Alright there, Mrs. Egan.” 

She goes redder, a sight, and the dark tufts of hair just above the waistband. He sighs out against her throat. 

She’s wondering just how comfortable he is exactly, knee wedged like that against the couch, until she feels him against her, slick and swollen, until-

Her exhale’s sharp, the twist of it, the little gasp-groan of it, of them, her nails against the curve of his back. 

He covers her like a blanket, heavy and warm, the dull oak moss of his aftershave, like everything she’s ever missed. The movement of his hips grows quicker, spooling tight in the bottom of her stomach. 

“Got me right where you want me, huh,” he asks, and his eyes are hazy with it, stormy-beautiful-blue. 

“All I dreamed about-” she breaks off with a noise, a whine, a spot inside hit just right. 

“Missed me, huh?”

“So much-” Every day, since-

She clenches around him, the edges of her sight shimmering, watches his mouth fall open that touch it always does. A second or two before he remembers just what exactly they’re doing, how they ought to be careful if they don’t want-

She arches, her gasp swallowed with a kiss. He comes in her hand, a dribble sliding down the crease of her thigh. The sound the sticking makes, between their bodies, pulls another noise from her chest.

Heavy, unthinking kisses against her nose, her forehead, her lips. Her shoulders lift, needing more of him. 

“I kept thinking about this,” he says, hoarse. “On the train.” A fresh thrill runs through her, touches her cheeks. “Almost missed my damn stop.”

She doesn’t push the errant curl back that brushes her forehead from his. “That wouldn’t have made either of us too happy.”

“Me in Richmond, and my darling wife here on this couch.”

“My darling husband in Richmond and me here on this couch.” Her fingers play at the back of his neck, the moments before they’ll get up and clean and dress for bed. “Good thing you wised up, then.”

“With the real thing here at home? Be pretty hopeless if I hadn’t.”

She traces her thumb against the corner of his mouth, watches his eyes follow her collarbone. “Does Mr. Not Pretty Hopeless care to join the Mrs. in the shower?”

He dips his head, kisses the crook of her neck and shoulder, intent on kissing across her chest. “Care to? That’s the best offer I’ve heard all week.”

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋʟᴇʏ — ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — three shots fired : two to the body , one through the heart .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug , mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 4.1k

my demons are begging me to open up my mouth

i need them, mechanically make the words come out

they fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce

ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about

jake lockley was a simple man. or at least that's what he likes to think. he was created by marc's subconscious to protect him from distress and physical harm. that was his reason for existence. nothing more, nothing less.

but the reality was that he was a broken man, much like his alters steven and marc. he was born from abuse, like steven, and his sole purpose was to shield that little boy from the horrors of his mother's pain. he shares a body with two others, needing to hide in the shadows because they absolutely cannot know about his existence nor the blood in his hands when marc's have been stained red enough that his conscience can't wash it all away.

he did not need to place the burdens he carries to his brothers, he was their protector and if staying in the dark and letting them be oblivious to his presence was the only way to protect them, then so be it.

jake was the one who took the hits for them, used his fist on those that dared try and harm the body, pounding the offender's face over and over until their face was black and blue and unrecognizable. even if it meant the boys would wake up to split skin on his knuckles. jake lockley is the system's protector, nothing is going to change that.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me i was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

when marc became moon knight, jake briefly took over the body and had confronted the 7 foot tall skeletal bird known as khonshu, the egyptian god of the moon and the night sky. he sees all and knows all despite being unknown by the other two.

at first he demands khonshu to release marc from their agreement knowing it will lead to more danger and marc, the original, cannot be harmed. he tried hard to fight for marc's freedom much to the god's entertainment before striking another deal with jake.

on the day marc gains his freedom from being khonshu's avatar, he shall take his place instead. why look for another avatar when there's a completely different person residing in marc's body that marc (and steven) is unaware of?

but jake? jake had other plans. he told khonshu he'll be his avatar then and there, to let him take on the bloodier and brutal missions to spare marc any more bodies in his hands. he'll take them for him instead. this, of course, amuses khonshu who promptly agreed. their body was never going to be free from his clutches and the egyptian deity was going to take full advantage of the man's brokenness to do his bidding.

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

the job was easy for jake. he's used to a life of violence, letting his fists do the talking to get the answers he needed. he fought until his body held a constellation of bruises that don't easily fade away because he doesn't want to wear the ceremonial suit like marc.

instead he prefers his usual clothes consisting of his signature flat cap, a jacket, a white dress shirt underneath with a black tie done neatly, pressed trousers and black belt and some nice leather shoes.

what he did accept from khonshu was a pair of leather gloves, the knuckles of them designed with a faded crescent moon, to symbolize that he was doing the egyptian god's dirty (well, dirtier) work.

jake doesn't front often, only coming out when its necessary or when his brothers are sound asleep. some days he'd wake up in steven's warm flat, other times it's in that godawful tiny storage room marc uses. either way, he'd get up in the dead of the night, taking control of the body in what little time he has before letting it rest, relinquishing control to the other two once more when the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

most missions that jake partakes in are always the same. it's either a weasley person trying their hardest to evade getting caught by this mysterious person that's dwindling the numbers of their group or a particularly difficult man to put down. on cases like the latter, jake would use a gun or dagger. if his fists can't take them down, these things surely will.

it's gruesome to say the least, the way he can only come out when he's required to by his duty as khonshu's avatar or when marc faces imminent danger. he never needed to take control over steven because the brit wasn't in any danger working at the museum.

the only time he took over steven was to ask that one coworker of his out for steak. shame she thought it was steven, but he can't exactly give himself away in steven's workplace. poor man didn't need any more confusion and mess when he's already on his boss' bad side. steven didn't need jake to add another reason to her ever growing list to hate him.

selfish, taking what I want and call it mine

i'm helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine

they rush me, telling me I'm running out of time

they shush me (sssh), walking me across a fragile line

the only time jake gets to front for a long time, say two days, is when the system is exhausted. if marc pushed himself too hard or steven tried staying up all night again, jake gets absolute freedom for a few days.

he works as a cabbie, it's a method he uses to lure the poor victims on khonshu's hit list. one day, the door to his cab opens, to lo and behold, beautiful, innocent you.

jake never believed in love at first sight, he thinks it's cringe and stupid but you, oh you just proved him wrong.

dressed in a simple yellow sundress and white cardigan to maintain decency, you were a pop of color amongst london's gray streets and brick walls. you looked like sunshine after the rain personified.

you greeted him with a smile, telling him where you were headed, a psychiatric hospital near the general hospital. he was never one to make small talk with his innocent customers, until you. you who made jake break nearly every rule he's told himself since he cannot front for long periods of time. but you? oh he had quite the fun talking to you.

on the short trip it took to take you there, he had managed to learn that you work there as a permanent staff. he also learned of your name, testing the way it rolls off his tongue and ended up sounding like music to his ears. you gladly indulged his questions, a naturally friendly person, he notes to himself as he listens to you talk in his backseat, occasionally watching you through his rearview mirror.

it's another thing he finds out he likes about you but he can't help but worry if people would dare try and take advantage of you with your sweet smiles and lovely personality. jake shouldn't really bother himself with such thoughts but he found it hard to resist, not when it comes to you he realizes.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me i was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

khonshu knows about jake's new fascination with you. he'd often remind the man to forget about you, that you'd be nothing but a mere distraction to the higher purpose he's taken jake in.

on the rare times jake fronts in broad daylight, he would wait for your morning shift to end, parked outside the psychiatric hospital's door, leaning against his car with a cigarette lit and between his lips, the nicotine burning warmth into his lungs as he puffs out the smoke to london's every chilly air.

you'd come out of the doors mere minutes later in your casual clothes, the colors making your eyes stand out more as you smile and wave at him, bounding towards him with a giggle. he'd put out his cigarette, stomp it with the sole of his shoe before opening his arms to a welcoming embrace.

more often than not he'd lead you to his car with an arm slung over your shoulders, getting as close as he can amd enveloping himself in your floral and nectarine scent. he likes how your perfume lingers on the fabric of his jacket sometimes, it makes him feel like you're still with him even if he dropped you home hours ago.

jake began to pick you up more often on the two months marc and steven's worlds began to collide. he took advantage of marc's grief of the loss of his mother and steven's apparent confusion of missing days in his work.

he used those two months to build the relationship he has with you now, still platonic but there was definitely something more. if your lingering touches and flirty quips were anything to prove.

so he waits for you in the cold london air during the end of your shifts, sometimes even takes you to work when your night shift starts if he has the chance, and you'd always greet him with a smile and wave.

one time though, khonshu decided he's had enough of jake's silly little crush on you. it's past 7 in the morning, jake's driving you home and you were sat in the back and talking his ear off about the things that happened during your shift. he'd laugh and make a comment or two but he's more focused on driving, choosing to enjoy the sound of your voice as he does so. but the god has other plans.

he materializes himself, seated next to your oblivious self, just within jake's peripheral in the rearview mirror. the sight of the skeletal bird next to you has him tightening his hold on the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were definitely white under the leather gloves he wore.

he hates seeing the god next to you, his tall and boney form too undeserving of your sunshine and warmth, not that khonshu wanted either of those.

"i told you to stop meeting this woman jake." khonshu reminds him, to which he only responds with a clench of his jaw, "¡no te atrevas a tocarla!" he grumbles under his breath. "what was that jake?" you ask, curious and innocent to the 7 foot tall god next to you threatening him about you.

"do you really think she'll still love you, no— like you once she finds out who you really are?" the egyptian deity goads, thumping his staff on his car's floor.

"¡cállate, maldito pájaro!" he cusses out, a little harsher, a little louder this time. it makes your brows furrow, moving to the edge of your seat as you place a hand on the back of his seat on the driver's side.

"no, really jake... are you okay?" you were concerned for him, which warms his heart but does not ease the foreboding feeling of fear that he was about to lose you. he fights himself not to think about it right now, not while you are still around.

"estoy bien, neña. no te preocupes." you were glad to have taken your spanish classes in highschool seriously, often mingling with patients in the hospital who also spoke the language. "if you say so. but! if you need a friend to talk to, i'm always here for you."

of course, that's the type of person you were. kind, caring, to jake you were the most precious person there is in his otherwise bleak life. like a soft patch of grass and wildflowers in the otherwise dry land he calls life.

"por supuesto, cariño. ahora siéntate bien, no puedes lastimarte de alguna manera." he smiles, not wanting to worry you any further.

khonshu slams his scepter down once more, the echo loud in jake's ears as the threat of the god's words loom over him like his skeletal shadow before fading out of sight.

"stop this jake, while i am letting you or else i will do it for you."

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

he would never allow khonshu to get his hands on you. he may be the god he serves but he wasn't going to let him dictate his life. though deep down jake knew better than to go against him because he would never want you to get hurt. especially because of him. and if disappearing quietly from your life is what keeps you out of harm's way, then so be it.

it's been two weeks since jake last picked you up. he's avoided fronting as much as he could, only coming out whenever he's called in the middle of the night.

you thought he was just busy. he was a cabbie after all, he had other people to pick up and bring to their destinations. he won't always be available to take you home. doesn't mean you didn't miss him though. jake has made a small home in your heart, driving his way into your life and permanently parking himself there, a spot dedicated to jake and only jake.

he was the highlight of your day whenever he would come around the psych hospital, all the fatigue and weariness easing off your bones once he'd sling his arm around you.

so these past two weeks, your heart quietly sinks when you don't see his cab parked just outside the doors of the hospital, a cold puff of air greeting you instead of jake's warm embrace as he meets you, smelling of cigarette and leather and musk. you'd end your shift a little disheartened as you hail a cab to bring you home, always secretly hoping it was jake who would stop and take you in.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake missed you as well in those two weeks, terribly so. it felt like hell being in the dark corner's of steven and marc's consciousness where he'd wonder how you were doing, if you were okay. if you missed him like he missed you. you did, but he didn't know. couldn't know because of the risk he knows he'll put you under if he fronts to meet you.

it's half past two in the morning when he's able to grab hold of the body, his movements sluggish because none of them were getting enough rest with marc drinking his memories away when khonshu wasn't sending him off to places, steven would stay up late just to catch himself and keep himself from doing god knows what in his sleep and jake, who'd take control of their shared body at the wee hours of the night, barely an hour of sleep in their system but does he care right now? no. why? because two weeks of being away from you was hell and he won't stand another second of not being in your presence.

so he throws the sheets off their body, puts on more presentable clothes from steven's wardrobe since he was the one fronting during the day these past weeks. he found a simple gray sweatshirt and hoodie, exchanged his pajama pants for a pair of jeans and protected his feet with a pair of old sneakers the brit rarely wears.

after that he takes his time to walk to you, not caring if it would take him a while. he'd use this time to think carefully about what to say to you if he manages to even catch your attention while you work. or maybe you'd be on a quick break? he hopes so.

hold me down now

hold me down now

hold me down

jake was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't realize he was already at the hospital had it not been for your hands holding his shoulders. "jake?" came your voice, soft culverts coming out in a whisper that rings so loudly and lovely in his ears in the silence of london's empty streets. he snaps out of his trance upon hearing your voice, so sweet and kind.

wordlessly, he pulls you in an embrace, not caring at the moment if khonshu was watching his every movement, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. at first you were surprised, unsure on whether or not to reciprocate but in the end you do.

how could you not when your heart misses him so? even if he smelled different, like old books and clean linens, there was a scent you'd recognize anywhere that belongs solely to jake.

with your arms wrapped around his form, holding his body against yours as you breathe him in. he was real and he was holding you. it soothes the yearning that settled in your body in an instant. he was real and he felt like a safety net, anchoring you back to shore, rescuing you just in time to pull you back above waters before you sink into a sea of emotional turmoil.

that night in each other's embrace, you both felt like you'd come home after a long and exhausting day of being so far apart from each other. in that silence, you had both found solace and understanding where you stood in each other's lives. he was special to you as you were to him. jake had put up a delicate white fence over the luscious green grass and blooming flowers you had planted in his heart, his own garden in his desert he calls life. you were his oasis.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me I was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

after that visit, jake slips away from your grasp again. steven and marc had found themselves in cairo, quietly lending them a hand when it mattered, saving them when their life began teetering close to the edge and quietly returning to his corner. they didn't need to know about him. not yet, not while his hands remain bloody and his ledger dripping red like waterfalls.

he helped marc amd steven out of sticky situations, even saving layla a few times as well. he thinks it's nice that marc had found a safe haven of his own with the woman but jake can't help but feel a little angry and jealous because he can't have you that way. not when they share the same body and face. so he took that bubbling anger out on the poor soul that had tried to hurt him, knuckles bloody and raw from punching so their face it's almost unrecognizable with all the blood pouring from their head to their mouth.

even though he was helping the two out in stopping an ancient god from killing off millions of people, jake's selfishness can't help but think of you during your time apart. he misses you even more now, he realizes. he wonders if he'll be able to see you again after this.

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake was proud of marc from his hidden corner of their consciousness when he refused to kill harrow, against khonshu's orders. he felt happy that his brother no longer had to stain his hands any redder than they should. but deep down jake knew he would be the one to end it all. after all, he is their protector (and with his affections for you, that extended to you as well).

he knew that khonshu would call for him one day soon to finish what marc cannot, for he is, after all, the one that carries the burden of dirtying his hands for them.

that was the deal he had bargained for his brother/s after all.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake finds himself in front of your hospital one afternoon when they returned from their duty in egypt. harrow was sent here, an idea he had left in marc's subconscious. in reality, it was just so he'd be able to see a glimpse of you.

selfish as it was, he thinks it's the only way he can see you again. he takes hold of harrow's wheelchair from a nurse, telling her in spanish that he was there for him. she had seemed to understand and let him be, moving on to a different patient to care for.

jake walks down the halls of the hospital, hoping to see even the faintest glimpse of your bright smile but to no avail. what he doesn't know though, was that you had seen him first, unsure in the beginning but you saw his signature cap and gloves and you knew for sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

he was back and he was taking one of the patients admitted at the ward? throughout the time he's picked you up and took you home, he's never said anything about knowing someone in here. you followed him silently, asking one of your co-workers to cover for you a bit.

you see him take arthur harrow inside a limo you didn't know he drove, kicking the wheelchair with such anger it makes you pause in your steps just a little ways from the exit. you see him enter the driver's side, windows rolled up and slams the door shut, you took that as cue to make your way out. you approach the limo with hesitant steps, about to knock on the tinted windows when you see two flashes of light from inside the car, the muffled sound of a gun ringing so loud it has you gasping, snatching your hand back before it lands on the glass.

jake did what he had to, he sought justice to the death their body suffered from when harrow shot them within the dig site where steven discovered ammit's ushabti. it was time to repay the favor, he had shot them twice so he thought it was only fair to do the same. though this time, arthur harrow won't have the same chance to return to the land of the living the way marc and steven did. he had to atone for his sins, there was no redemption for arthur harrow.

but he hears something outside his limo, makes him roll his windows down just a tiny bit only to see your shaken form right outside, fear and shock evident in your features; from the way you held your hands, holding yourself as you took some steps back and away from the white vehicle. jake knew right there and then that he had scared you away, that he might have just lost you. the god in his backseat remained quiet, his presence like a foreboding shadow.

"i told you to stop seeing her didn't i jake lockley? did you really think she'll accept the life you live, the blood staining your hands?"

a part of jake knew that the tall bird was correct but he didn't want to accept it, he couldn't— wouldn't believe it. he loves you and he knows you do too, if that one late night visit says anything about how you two felt about each other. but the longer he stared at your scared form, the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, the more jake began to realize he had to get away.

yes marc didn't deserve to know about the red on his hands...

translations:

¡no te atrevas a tocarla! — don't you fucking dare touch her

estoy bien, nena. no te preocupes. — i'm fine baby. don't worry.

por supuesto, cariño. ahora siéntate bien, no puedes lastimarte de alguna manera. — of course sweetheart. now sit properly, can't have you injuring yourself somehow.

[butcherlarry]

Exercise Fic Recs 21

Sorry I’m a bit late posting this, I just got back from watching ATSV.  It’s just as good and everyone has been shouting about and I don’t know why it took me so long to getting around to watching the movies.  Anyway, on to the fics!

The Only by pasdecoeur  (Superbat, complete.  Felt like being a little sad, so I read this fic again.  Bittersweet, read the tags.)

how many roads less traveled? by TopHat  (Superwonderbat, complete.  Polyamory negotiations between the trinity.  Very sweet, features ace Bruce.)

be my kryptonite by renecdote  (Superbat, complete.  Clark has a sensory overload, Bruce helps.)

Courage by LemonadeGarden  (Batfam, complete.  Bruce has a run in with fear toxin and Dick helps him deal with it.)

Stuck in the Middle (With You) by TheResurrectionist  (Superbat and Batfam, complete.  A re(re)read for me, I needed some good humor.  Damian gets stuck and Dick calls for help.  Shenanigans ensue.)

Just a Formality by FabulaRasa  (Superbat, complete.  Bruce and Clark get married for work reasons, and Clark has So Many Feeling About This.)

misty by TheResurrectionist  (Superbat, wip.  Different first meeting.  Bruce crash lands on a cold, barren planet and Clark finds him.)

Patchwork Pod by Ktkat9  (Superbat, wip.  Another merbruce fic update!)

Midnight Hour by BisforBread  (Superbat, wip.  Medieval/fantasy au.  Clark is a prince and Bruce is a knight and they have Feelings for each other.)   

a world in repair by Batbirdies  (Barfam, wip.  Part of the Emotional Motion Sickness series.  Jason and Damian go on a trip together, but not everything goes according to plan.)

Veritas by Anonymous  (Batfam, complete.  Batman gets hit with truth serum and talks about how he loves his kids SO MUCH.)

Jesus Is Not A Zombie by Sadsnail  (uuuuhhhhh, bible fic?  I blame @beachcat0772 , she posted this in our friend server and told me to read it.  It’s just crack fic, but GOOD crack fic 😆)

They had a pastry with lemon curd on it, I couldn’t resist!

It was so rainy this morning!  It pretty much rained the entire time I was birding.  Got so cool pictures though!

The baby geese, they are growing up!  They are looking more and more like adult geese everyday:

Wasn’t able to get a good picture of this guy, but it’s a brown thrasher!  This is the second time I’ve seen him running around the area:

Look at this funky lil’ guy!  A grackle!  They were so fun to watch:

There were SO MANY swallows out flying around.  They kept flying around me, they were so much fun to watch!  And they’re SO PRETTY too.  I tried to take some pictures of them in flight, but it’s SO HARD.  This one is ok, I need to practice more.  This guy is a barn swallow:

A red-winged black bird chilling in the rain:

This is also a red-winged blackbird, but a female!  She caught breakfast!  This is probably my favorite picture I took today:

A robin!

When I got to the arboretum, some tree swallows were flying around!  Here are the best pictures I got of them midflight:

A titmouse grabbing a snack in the middle of the rain:

There’s also a big flock of goldfinches that hangout here too!  I thought this guy looked handsome:

This white-breasted nuthatch was having fun hopping around on this tree:

OMG.  I didn’t realize this until I got home, but these are juvenile eastern bluebirds!!  Wow!!!

This has a parent and a baby!!  Holy moly!!

An indigo bunting in the rain.  I think my lens was starting to fog up:

A downy woodpecker.  I like how it looks like they’re peaking around:

A black-capped chickadee!  They snagged a treat:

An indigo bunting again:

I love this picture of a female cardinal:

Now onto some scenery!

ngl, the rain made everything look prettier.

[whispersinthedawn]

Ocean of Storms 2

A knock made Apollo crane his neck up – only to realise the sound had emerged from the window instead of the door.

Birds knocked these days, did they? Because he couldn’t recall a tree outside and that left the only alternative as a person.

It was a person.

Apollo considered and dismissed it being an elaborate assassination attempt before wrenching open the window. “What are you doing here?”

Percy grinned up at him, appearing an unearthly thing indeed in the red light of the street lamps, with half her body enveloped in the fog creeping in from the shore.

“Well,” she drawled, “I believe we didn’t sort matters out to our mutual satisfaction.”

Apollo stared at her. “What matters?”

And how could anyone on this planet ever be satisfied by anything?

Percy smiled wider, her lips stretching into the curve of a bared scimitar.

“I did do you the great service of rescuing you from the ocean,” she pointed out wickedly. “A little recompense would be … appreciated.”

“Like …?” Her presence at his bedroom implied certain things – but she was dressed in a black diving suit that, while doing wonders for showing off every inch of her body, would be a travail to strip off. She’d even put on a transparent cap that plastered her hair to her scalp until she might as well have had only skin for all the difference it would have made.

She didn’t look ready for bedroom activities.

Her words cemented that conclusion. “I’d like some of that Earth coin you brought with you,” she informed him cheerfully. “A little monetary recompense, you know?”

Ordinarily, Apollo wouldn’t have been completely against awarding acts of merit. But he had read up on Pan before his ignominious exit from Earth, which included learning about its economy.

Things from Earth sold for exorbitant prices. The exchange rate for one golden drachma from Earth might have been a hundred Pan planas, but collectors would bid as much as ten thousand for it.

Secondly, and more importantly, he wasn’t a fool.

“I wouldn’t have needed rescue if it weren’t for you,” he retorted.

She stared at him from her perch atop the pipes running the length and height of the building, before snorting. “I’ll have you know, you nearly died all by your own talent.”

Tiring of hanging from a slim piece of tubing that Apollo would be having removed as soon as she vacated the premises, Percy climbed in through the window.

Sullenly, Apollo moved backwards to give her space. It would serve her right if he pushed her out instead – but he hadn’t yet gained a thorough understanding of the surveillance around the governor’s mansion, nor gathered a set of trustworthy retainers who would dispose of bodies for him.

He didn’t need another murder on his hands. Especially one Hera couldn’t be forced to acknowledge as necessary. His dear stepmother would be ecstatic to change his exile to execution.

Percy dropped down onto the synthetic wood flooring with the ease of long practice, light-footed like a ball of fluff. Though he supposed even fluff would be reduced to a waterlogged rock in this humidity.

Percy took a quick glance around the room, easily clocking in the unpacked trunks in the corner, the wardrobe door half open to reveal only spare bedsheets and a folded towel, and the rumpled bed. Apollo refused to feel embarassed about having flopped onto the bed without even changing his clothes.

“Honestly,” she continued once she’d satisfied herself with peering into his room, “I find it quite insulting that I save you and all I get in return are accusations.”

“My ship breaks down and you just so happen to be there?” Apollo asked skeptically. “You expect me to believe that was pure coincidence?”

“I call that your good luck,” she said in rejoinder. “You landed in the Ocean of Storms, you know?”

“So?”

She laughed in incredulity. “So, you should scrap your navigation system and fire whoever input the coordinates because Camp was two hours away.”

“Two hours isn’t a terribly long time if your ship works,” Apollo sneered. Which it would have if the landing spot hadn’t ripped a hole through the shields and the hull.

Spacecraft didn’t land in uncharted territories but well defined spots proven to be safe. Well, unless you were an adventurer.

Though … it did seem doubtful that Percy was the only person in the vicinity. And even that he’d landed on water despite the town having a perfectly adequate spaceport at its outskirts.

Apollo had the unsettling feeling that he’d missed something. The way Percy looked at him, as if she’d never seen a greater fool, merely compounded that feeling.

“Ocean of Storms,” she drawled. “How do you think it got its name?”

“An allusion to one of the first landing sites on the moon?” he tried. And he ought to know, considering he shared his name with the spacecraft that had performed the landing.

Percy burst out into peals of laughter. “I always heard that knowledge could be deadly but I didn’t expect this!”

Apollo scowled and straightened his shoulders, only to instantly feel like a porcupine puffing up its quills. Or maybe a chick its feathers considering the ineffectuality of the gesture.

The mocking edge to Percy’s smile made his fingers itch to scratch it off her face.

“What would a layperson assume, do you suppose, if they heard the words ‘Ocean of Storms’?” she queried.

Humiliation slithered down Apollo’s spine, inciting fury wherever it passed. “You mean it wasn’t an allusion but a description.”

Percy shrugged. “You’re lucky I was there. Very few pilots can navigate the storms in that stretch of the ocean. Even luckier that you landed in a small whirlpool that vented all its power demolishing your shields.”

Lucky? Was it luck that the coordinates had led him to a secluded region of the planet instead of the spaceport? Luck that he’d landed atop a confluence of currents swirling into a whirlpool determined to crush his ship to pieces?

Luck that he’d nearly died, would have died if not for an enterprising diver who part-timed as a mechanic and managed to wrestle his ship into airworthiness long enough to escape the series of waterspouts on their tail.

No, he didn’t think it was lucky at all.

And if it wasn’t luck, then it could only be by design.

***

Previous | Next

[ecoustsaintmein]

Native Son, why it works in Ep 8 of MotA, and why it doesn't

I've written a quick post about it a while back, about how Rosie reading Native Son in Ep 8 makes sense thematically for the episode.

I reread it this weekend, and I have thoughts:

Background --

Native Son was published in 1940 and was written by Richard Wright, about a young black man who lives in Chicago, raised in a life a poverty and systemic racism which led to a life of crime.

Connection with the Tuskegee Airmen --

Within the first 50 pages we have this exchange between Bigger and his friends, when they saw a plane up in the sky:

"Looks like a little bird," Bigger breathed with childlike wonder.

"Them white boys sure can fly," Gus said.

"Yeah," Bigger said wistfully. "They get a chance to do everything."

(...)

"I could fly one of them things if I had a chance," Bigger mumbled reflectively, as though talking to himself.

Gus pulled down the corners of his lips, stepped out from the wall, squared his shoulders, doffed his cap, bowed low, and spoke with mock deference:

"Yessuh."

"You go to hell," Bigger said, smiling.

"Yessuh," Gus said again.

"I could fly a plane if I had a chance," Bigger said.

"If you wasn't black and if you had some money and if they'd let you go to that aviation school, you could fly a plane," Gus said.

For a moment Bigger contemplated al the 'ifs' that Gus had mentioned. Then both boys broke into hard laughter, looking at each other, through squinted eyes. When their laughter subsided, Bigger said in a voice that was half-question and half-statement:

"It's funny how the white folks treat us, ain't it?

"It better be funny," Gus said.

"Maybe they right in not wanting us to fly," Bigger said. "'Cause if I took a plane up I'd take a couple of bombs along and drop 'em sure as hell..."

(...)

"God, I'd like to fly up there in that sky."

"God'll let you fly when He gives you your wings up in heaven," Gus said.

The text was published in 1940. Also, spoiler alert -- Bigger was on the death row by the end of the book, so when we come back to the story of the Tuskegee Airmen, who does ALL the things that Bigger wants to do but couldn't -- those men were actively challenging the stereotype of a Black American of that era. And also fulfilling the prophecy that they will fly after Bigger's death...

And Bigger's conversation with Gus about how the white folk treat them -- it was unsurprising, but also reflected in (some of) the ways the Black PoWs were treated in the desegregated camps in ep 8.

Also interesting that Bigger mentioned how he wants to fly a plane to drop bombs...

Why it doesn't fully work (for me):

While I can see why Native Son was featured in not one but two (!!!) scenes, I can understand why Rosie was reading that (will come to that later), but I'm still struggling to find the significance of Sandra gifting it to Croz.

Also -- given all the points and themes that the book has attempted to discuss, and attempting to weave it into the plot of episode 8, it still sits uncomfortably with me that the Tuskegee Airmen were only introduced after 8 episodes (as if it is an afterthought, even if it wasn't meant that way), and that they barely get any lines at all in episode 9. Harking back to what Bigger and Gus just talked about:

"It's funny how the white folks treat us, ain't it?

"It better be funny," Gus said.

I'll let you judge for yourself.

Rosie and Native Son

I know we don't know, but -- whose book is it that Rosie is reading? Is it his? From the library?

In the final chapters, Bigger was charged with murder and rape, and he was represented by a Jewish-American lawyer named Boris Max, whom I feel to be the most unproblematic character out of all the characters in the book, and defended Bigger with everything he's got (think Atticus Finch, but with more communist-leaning).

Who else is a Jewish-American lawyer...oh wait. Rosie.

Max, like Rosie, is a non-judgmental character and basically a good listener all around, even if the intellectual points that he tries to make sometimes goes over Bigger's head.

This paragraph is telling of Max's character traits (and why it reminds me of Rosie's own strong-will and desire to keep fighting):

"Mr Max, if I was you I wouldn't worry none. If all folks was like you, then maybe I wouldn't be here. But you can't help that now. They going to hate you for trying to help me. I'm gone. They got me."

"Oh, they'll hate me, yes," said Max. "But I can take it. That's the difference. I'm a Jew and they hate me, but I know why and I can fight. But sometimes you can't win no matter how you fight; that is, you can't win if you haven't got time. And they're pressing us now. But you need not worry about their hating me for defending you. The fear of hate keeps many whites from trying to help you and your kind. Before I can fight your battle, I've got to fight a battle with them."

All in all, I can talk forever about the significance of the book and how it fits thematically into episode 8. However, it still leaves me wanting more from the Tuskegee Airmen plotline, and perhaps maybe more of Rosie's lawyering.

[ilikeyoualive]

Because of how... informational and borderline info-dumping my writing was, I was more or less talked into revising the first chapter by my co-author, who was initially asked to just edit what I had written but then ended up jumping on the Cryptid 141 bandwagon with me, lol.

Main Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,463

Read the sneak peek below the cut:

Rule #1: Come to Terms With the Fact Cryptids Exist

Soap shrugged the thick strap off his shoulder before lazily tossing the duffel bag onto the bed, the careless handling of his depressingly small amount of personal belongings disturbing the neatly tucked covers, which wrinkled under the bag's weight. Soap grimaced at the significant dip in the mattress sympathetically as he rolled his own stiff shoulders, the ache from carrying the heavy duffel for prolonged periods of time stubbornly lingering as if to reprimand him for his poor packing skills.

He probably could’ve done without stuffing everything he owned into a singular duffel bag. But, in his defense, he’d had a face to face meeting with the one and only Captain John Price beforehand, who had personally asked Soap if he was interested in being transferred into the infamous 141 Task Force. So the Scot figured that his oversight when it came to packing could be forgiven, if not be completely understandable given the circumstances.

Soap turned to curiously survey what would be his quarters for the unforeseeable future, almost immediately noting that the room was bigger than the one he’d had in the SAS, which was unexpected -what with him being the FNG and everything- but a pleasant surprise nonetheless. However, other than the size, he found that there wasn’t really anything noteworthy about his accommodations. It was barren of any personality, blank white walls and empty shelves staring back at him as he took in his surroundings.

He was already running through ideas about how to fill the space in his head as he turned back to the bed, unzipping his duffel bag and rummaging inside to retrieve his sketchbook and graphite pencils. He handled them with care, depositing them onto the desk with the intent to organize it all later. Soap ran his hand over the cover of his half-filled sketchbook as he considered his small collection of drawing supplies, making a mental note to invest in getting his hands on more materials before turning away to deal with the rest of his meager belongings.

About ten minutes later, Soap was seated on the floor in front of his dresser, surrounded by a semi-circle of neatly folded stacks of clothes. He had time to tuck his tower of jeans into one of the middle drawers for ease of access before he was startled by a gentle knock on his door frame, the almost tentative bid for attention drawing Soap’s gaze to the open doorway. His eyes nearly bugged straight out of his head when he got a good look at the man that stood just outside his room, his poor brain struggling to comprehend what he was looking at.

Feathers, apparently.

They covered the man’s arms in seemingly random patches, the majority of them clustered near his elbows. Soap’s gaze followed the sparse trail of black feathers down to the man’s hands, his mouth going bone dry when his gaze came to a shrieking halt on the man’s fingers. It was immediately apparent that the stranger’s fingernails were… wrong. They were as dark as the feathers, for one, and they had a wicked curve that reminded Soap of talons that looked more befitting of a bird of prey than a human.

And, when Soap’s owlish stare darted back up to the man’s face, he realized that there were smaller, softer feathers framing it, seamlessly blending into the man’s hair from what he could tell because the majority of the man’s head was covered by a baseball cap. But, judging by the way that the bizarre mix of dark hair and fluffy feathers was consistent on either side of his head -which the cap didn’t cover- Soap could only assume that the rest of his head was the same.

“Hey man, I’m Sergeant Garrik, but everyone calls me Gaz. How’re you settling in?” The man introduced himself warmly, the massive pair of fucking wings that were folded behind his back fluffing up a bit before the feathers flattened themselves down in a rippling wave that made them shimmer in the fluorescent lights above.

“Uh… is there supposed tae be a costume party later? Ah dinnae get the memo.” Soap blurted and under no circumstances would he ever admit that his voice had gone up several octaves by the end of the sentence, his tone bordering on hysterical as he openly gawked at Gaz’s utterly surreal appearance as his poor brain tried to make sense of how someone could look like one of their parents had very strange taste when it came to certain bedroom activities.

And, while Soap was in the midst of a mental breakdown worthy of an indefinite stay at the nearest psych ward, Gaz just stared at him blankly.

“Initiation? Maybe?” Soap asked in a tone that could be described as shrill because he really needed Gaz to burst into laughter and declare that this was all some very elaborate joke pretty soon here or Soap would not be responsible for his actions-

And then finally, he got a reaction from Gaz; though it was in the form of an oddly bird-like tilt of the other Sergeant's head as the wings on his back extended a bit before folding up again in a manner that looked an awful lot like a tell, a tell that betrayed the fact that he was nervous or maybe even bewildered. Soap could certainly relate to both of those emotions at the moment considering his entire world had just been flipped on it’s fucking head.

“What?” Was Gaz’s utterly unhelpful response, his brows reaching for his hairline as he stared at Soap as if the Scot were speaking in tongues. Unfortunately, Soap was absolutely positive that he was speaking English, so the fact that he had managed to confuse Gaz even though he was actively trying to make sense didn’t exactly bode well.

“Anno ah’m the FNG, but ah think this prank is a wee bit overkill.” Soap said weakly as he waved a hand at… well, the entirety of Gaz’s person, which seemed to just confuse the other Sergeant even more as he looked down at himself with furrowed brows before he was back to staring at Soap.

“Excuse me?” Gaz sounded incredulous and maybe even a bit offended, his dark eyes narrowing in a clear warning to tread lightly. Soap would have to choose his words wisely, it wouldn’t do to piss off one of his teammates on the first day. In fact, the Scot actually wanted to get along with his new team, especially since there was so much that he could learn from them considering that they were the best in their respective areas of expertise, not to mention versatile in the field.

“Ah dinnae ken if ye’ve noticed, but yer covered in feathers.” Soap couldn’t believe that he even had to point it out to Gaz, because one would think that it would be painfully obvious that he was talking about the other Sergeant's unnatural appearance. Either Gaz was deliberately being obtuse for the sake of the prank, or he was genuinely perplexed about why Soap was currently debating checking himself into the closest mental hospital to get his head checked.

“Were you not informed?” Gaz asked stiffly, his posture tense and defensive as his searching gaze bore into Soap with an intensity that made the Scot want to squirm.

“Informed? Ae whit?” Soap responded with palpable confusion in his tone, his brows creasing.

“Oh. Oh shit.” Gaz gasped out as something seemed to dawn on him and his eyes widened, an almost panicked expression overtaking his face as he took a hasty step back in order to retreat into the hallway while looking at Soap like he expected the Scot to suddenly jump up and run for the hills while screaming bloody murder. “Sorry man, this must be a bit of a shock to you.”

“Understatement ae the year, mate.” Soap warily agreed because Gaz’s reaction implied that there was a lot more to this fairly disconcerting interaction than he had first thought, which was more than a little worrying considering that Soap couldn’t quite wrap his head around the notion that this whole thing might not be an intricate prank or joke at all.

“I- Uh- Price will fill you in. Soon. Definitely soon. See you later.” Gaz spoke in starts and stops as he absently carded his fingers through the patch of black feathers on one of his arms in what Soap assumed was a self-soothing gesture, the other Sergeant was clearly as out of his element as the Scot was. However, before Soap could wrack his brain for the words that might help him come to understand what the hell was going on, Gaz was already turning on his heel to hurriedly march away.

[twopoppies]

hi gina ! i used to struggle a lot with balancing my love for louis and harry and other stuff in my life. my obsession with them would just override everything else, and it was becoming a bit of an issue. but then i left the bird app, and i took a month away from the fandom and i came here! my obsession was still overriding, but not as much. but now i’m at a place where they aren’t overriding anything anymore. it’s great because i live in a balance now and they’re always there, but they’re not taking over my life anymore. i noticed this change when someone replied to a tik tok comment i left (it was me replying to someone basically saying that if a celebrity switches the pronouns in a song, why don’t they just come out already and i said that their way of thinking was very black and white, and the industry is more complicated than that), and they were yelling at me in all caps and i snorted and just deleted their reply. my relationship with louis and harry is very healthy and i’m at peace with it. i usually just spend my time lurking around, sending an occasional ask, reading fics, and talking to my friends about louis and harry. i’ve been also getting into a bunch of other artists that i’ve been discovering and i’m allowing myself to! i used to be in a bubble where i only really listened to one direction/solo music, but now i’ve branched out and i’ve found some of my favorite artists! i no longer second guess myself or worry about whether or not they’re physically together. i don’t buy everything they put out, and i don’t glamorize them. it’s kind of similar to having the honeymoon phase end and you can see their flaws, yet you’re still so in love with them and their flaws. sorry for babbling!! i hope you have an amazing day ❤️

No, you’re not babbling! I think that’s a very helpful perspective. Especially for new fans. I think taking a little time off really helps a lot. I’ve done it from time to time and it really does help recalibrate. And definitely getting off Twitter!

In reference to this

[shaving-for-a-penny]

it was an interesting cross between paths. surrounded by lesbians and bisexual women ready to to see josh groban covered in blood, I sat and watched a man I’d never seen before act my favorite character from my favorite penny dreadful. it was magical for all involved.

now here’s some more fun things that happened

I’d only ever heard of Josh Groban. I didn’t even know what he looked like until I saw the promotions.

Everyone around me in the theater didn’t know that this was the first time they’d had a full orchestra in decades. It felt like nobody understood the incredible magnitude of the revival, but maybe that’s just my crazy fan side talking.

In A Little Priest, mrs lovett laughs so hard she falls to the ground in a fit and does this

this caused the audience to laugh harder so she paused and did another full circle before getting up

I’m not sure if it was in the script but Anthony forgot where he put his cap briefly.

Johanna’s actress was perfectly jumpy and afraid, I wanted to hug her the whole way through Green Finch & Linnet Bird/Kiss Me

Also she’s so quick to shoot dr fogg it was almost comical. I had to stop myself from cackling. She was so ready to kill that guy. Good for her.

Todd has little reading glasses

Mrs lovetts actress, oh my god. So clever. Lifting up her skirt when talking to sweeney, pushing her corset up, rubbing up against him, throwing herself onto his lap. The way he just let her manhandle him into whatever position she wanted with only mild irritation was a very fun portrayal of their dynamic. By The Sea was adorable

God, That’s Good! I was just blown away. Every detail. Tobias’s body language. The new shop decorations. The pies!

THE ENSEMBLE. i hope to god they know how appreciated they are. Their movements, so synchronized, so fluid, so expressive! Those people making gnashing teeth at the pie as Toby went past I SAW YOU. i thought it was funny. I appreciate you. The exaggerated movements during The Contest, God That’s Good, etc etc… ugh, gorgeous, hypnotic

I don’t recall who played Sr. Pirelli but Godspeed! They seemed so fun! I have a very particular interpretation of his character in my mind that not many actors appeal to, but this fellow nailed it. Not that they had to, but it is always nice.

The finales. This show really knew how to end a scene. Sweeney and Lovett slammed their weapons on the table at the last note of A Little Priest, sending a flurry of flour and drops of blood into the air as they cut to black. At the end, the two (covered in blood and soot) took each other’s hands as the ensemble backed away, and dropped down into the floor with a final note from the orchestra

I’m not an orchestra person, so I do not know the technical terms / what to compliment, but they are so appreciated as well. They were flawless. Sweeney Todd is a very hard musical to sing, much less play, and having the live performance made it all that much more magical.

In conclusion, my autistic hoard of knowledge about this story has a treasure chest to add to its piles of gold. Props to absolutely everyone and anyone involved in that production. It is masterfully done.

yours,

sweeney todd

[eykismyfav]

The Bird with the Broken Wing

Requested: Yup by @justmasblack​

Request: Soooooooo, I need Angst like Deep dark black Angst, I love my captain crying, So how about this, What is lost will be found, But she is what he lost and his key to get out is to find her but he doesn't wanna find her, cause finding her means she would die or be killed, by him????? Who knows😉 I know!

Genre: Angst...But this man has been through a lot so a little bit of fluff because it hurts me to hurt him...

Summary: That day Papa taught you all about how to read maps, figure out your coordinates and how to use more code to tell other ships where you were. When you got home you couldn’t wait to tell Mama what you had learned...but when you told her she just looked at you blankly like she always did. You often wondered if she had ever looked at anyone in another way rather than blankly.

or Eyk has a daughter whose body wasn’t found after the fire so maybe she never really died.

Warnings: Mention of death, fire, swearing, mention of past traumas.

Pairing: Eyk Larsen x daughter!reader

Authors note: Reader is Eyk’s oldest daughter. I’m so so sorry for this...but I'm also kinda not. Comments and likes are always appreciated I want to know what I am doing well and where I can improve. I love hearing your feedback so please don't hesitate!

Italics mean it is a memory

Bold means it is being said in German...I am to lazy to google translate.

Word Count: 1018

Taglist: @maddieluvvvv , @justmasblack , @whizbang-cap

Request Open For Eyk Larsen

1899 Masterlist

Prompt List

You don’t know how you ended up on this ship. You don’t know why you seem to be the only person on the ship and admittedly you are honestly terrified. The ship looked worse for wear but you figured that finding your way to the bridge of the ship would give you a better vantage point to figure out your situation.  

After a while you finally find your way to the bridge of the ship you realize just how royally screwed you truly were...you were not docked hell you weren’t even in a harbor you were in the middle of the ocean with no land nor other boats anywhere in sight. Accepting your defeat you sit down in the chair next to some sort of machine.

“Papa, what is that?” Your voice is small as you question your father who is holding you on his hip. Papa had decided to take you with him to the ship that day leaving Mama alone at the house giving her some time to herself.

“That is a telegraph my little dove,” he sits down in the chair moving you to his lap. “It sends messages from our ship to other ships using morse code.” As he explains these things to you you watch him with wide eyes. You loved Papa and you loved spending time with him. It happened rarely seeing as he was always out on the ocean...you didn’t blame him though not like Mama you had the same love of the ocean that he did. 

That day Papa taught you all about how to read maps, figure out your coordinates and how to use more code to tell other ships where you were. When you got home you couldn’t wait to tell Mama what you had learned...but when you told her she just looked at you blankly like she always did. You often wondered if she had ever looked at anyone in another way rather than blankly.

You startle out of the memory and look at the machine next to you...it was the same machine from your memory and on your other side was a map which was in pristine condition which was honestly shocking given the state of the ship.

“Shit!” You were ecstatic as long as the machine worked you had everything you needed to send your coordinates to another ship. You could only hope there was a boat to hear the signal. 

You spent the next 6 and a half hours tapping the coordinated non stop hoping to get a response from someone...anyone. Finally you stopped when another ship came into view. The name on the side of the ship read Kerberos. You run out of the bridge on to the deck out of pure joy there were people there. They could help you! They were there to help you...right.

It took another two hours for them to lower a lifeboat and start to row over to the boat you were on. During this time you took the time to explore the ship it couldn’t hurt trying to figure out what you were doing on this boat in the first place. As you were wondering a piece of fabric on the ground catches your eye it was Nina’s hair ribbon what was it doing here...where was Nina and Mama? You bend down and pick up the ribbon. 

“Y/N! Help me please!” Nina’s voices calls to you.

“Nina!” You run towards her voice and suddenly you find yourself in the woods that surrounded your family home. 

“Mama please no!” Your baby sisters plead with your mother as you throw your body against the door to your home. 

“Open the door Mama! Please...” You beg as you continue to bang on the door. All you can hear after that is blood curdling screams and the door handle gets hot. “No...no...this isn’t real...” You repeat this to yourself as you slowly back away from the door. “I want to wake up now please let me wake up...” You suddenly see a figure in the woods running over to you...

“Papa?” You cry out reaching for the man like he was your life line to escape this horrible nightmare.

“Little Dove is that you?” It was him and he was real around him the background of the woods disappears and the interior of the ship reappeared. That was all you needed to see before you ran to him glad that he had found you. Once you were close enough he engulfed you into his arms. “Dove what are you doing her? How are you here you died? Your mother...the fire.” He mumbled into your hairline you could feel wetness on the top of your head 

“Papa what are you talking about...that was just a nightmare...” You cut yourself off as you look down at your hand it had burn scars on it the door handle had been hot...it was real. “Oh god! Mama, Nina and...no Papa...” You once again latch onto your father like he is a buoy on the water anchoring you to here and now.

“I’m sorry my little Dove...I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He whispers to you as he pulls away to look you in the eyes. He cups your face in his larger hand as tears fill his eyes.

“It’s okay Papa. You saved me this time.” You give him a sad smile holding his face in your smaller hands whipping away his tears. “You got my message! You taught me how to send it remember.” He nods smiling fondly at the memory.

“Eyk! Eyk where did you go!” A woman's voice calls from somewhere else in the ship. 

“Maura! I found a survivor!” He called back looking over his shoulder to where his crew rounded the corner. 

“Eyk...” Maura looked at him confused “There is no one there...”

“What yes there is...” but as he turned back you were gone the only thing remaining was a folded paper dove with one of its wings ripped and lightly charred by fire in his hand.

[planetsnakes]

I went outside. There's 13 paragraphs about going outside

Today it was raining. Not as rainy as it could be and I havent managed to leave the house in two days thanks to my own pains. So I decided to go on a walk.

I wrapped up in a couple of layers wearing my slightly waterproof shoes, a really good waterproof coat, my cap that keeps rain off my glasses and an umbrella.

The university issued a public thanks to the area yesterday saying thank you to residents to being paitent with all the students moving in. They were right to. Everywhere there's people walking up and down with boxes, suitcases & the roads are very full of cars. It took ages to get across all the roads.

I went to my local tesco because they sell sushi and I like sushi :3 but alas all the stupid students moving in (like me I am a stupid student) brought all the ready meals. So I went to Greggs and got a sausage roll and belgum bun.

Then I walked until I was away from all the students moving and took off my headphones. There's an amazing park with castle ruins near me and it reminds me of the area I grew up. I ate my food while watching a pigeon. If I take my eyes off it the bird will steal my food it's happened before.

The rain was really pelting it down as I moved to walk along the river. The only people out now are dogwalkers. I sit on bench, positioning the umbrella over me to read fanfiction and watch a group of swans as they lazily mill about.

The dogs all came up to me to say hi. I think they love the rain cuz they all seemed exited. I kinda wanted to stroke them but you should never stroke an animal without the owners permission and I dont like talking to stragers so I don't.

One of the dogs was I thhink a bulldog with eyes that kind of looked golden. We really want a dog. We used to want a black labrador and we'd call them Bluebell but now we're thinking of starting with a smaller dog. As soon as we know where we're living for the next few years.

The air smelt amazing and away from all the cars there was nothing to aggrivate our sensory issues so we sat there and just took the world in. The sky that never stops going on forever, promising to hold beauty, to show me something more, the lazy sawns gliding in circles unbothered by the current and the occasional og rushing past me with no cares.

We feel so much emotion all the time but we felt at peace then.

Following some winding backalleys home we bumped into more and more students, all who seemed to want to go out clubbing. At 4pm. In the rain... It's definately similar to our first year before that money went to cooler things like coffee and replacing everything that broke.

For the fifty millionth time we think about calling our ex who showed us around this town when we were new and took us out clubbing at 4pm in the torrential rain. We don't because it was a trainwreck and we didn't get on great sober. It was nice being new though. I really hope everyone who comes here experiances that same joy.

Then I get home and all the fucking fucks come back to me. I stare mornfully at my clothes that just wont dry after going through the broken washing machine and call my mum.

Then I hang up, open tumblr and realise I forgot to touch the grass. Sorry guys.

[manga-panels-daily]

[seabass17]

Didn’t mean it 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Summary: We used to be pretty close. Now? Now he didn’t even acknowledge me.

Warnings: violence, angst with a happy ending, blood, death, self doubt, mean bucky. 

A/n: I’m a sucker for pain so... this one contents some mentions of being fat and something about low self-esteem. If you are sensitive about it, please don’t read it, I personally had trouble writing it down because I as well am insecure.

Word count: 4,135

Then

It was a chilly morning, birds chirping on the trees and the sun slipping through the windows. Steaming hot coffee in hand, watching over the city of New York. Most days we all were running around, going on missions and pretty much putting our lives at risk for the people that we swore to protect; however, this was our day off. No missions, no training, no nothing, just a relaxing day in the compound.

Today was the day where we can all relax and pray that no one tries to commit some crime so that we can have a day of peace.

“Ah, morning people” Tony walked in with a wide smile and went to grab a cup of coffee. “Beautiful day, isn’t y/n?” he added.

I chuckled and nodded. A few seconds passed and the rest of the team soon joined Tony and me in the kitchen.

“Hey y/n, breakfast?” Steve asked and I shook my head.

“No thanks cap, I already had two waffles, two eggs, bacon and some hot mocca” I smiled.

“That’s a bit too much don’t you think?” Bucky said while he took a sip from his coffee

A punch to the ego and self-esteem.

“A bit rude, don’t you think Barnes?” I snapped back, giving him a sarcastic smile. I wasn't going to show that it affected me as much as it hurt me.

Three months ago Bucky and I were pretty close, best friends. Sometimes I liked to think that he saw me as something more than a friend. We used to watch movies in my room, cuddle and go for a walk in the park. I would be there for him when his nightmares got bad to the point where he couldn’t sleep all night fearing that the memories of what he used to be would come to haunt him.

We used to be pretty close. Now? Now he didn’t even acknowledge me. It was like I wasn’t even in the room. The only time he would say something to me, it was always something like: “you sure you don’t want to stay in the compound and actually be useful?”, “why don’t you just shut the hell up. No one asked you”.

Oh but the ones that took the first place were the ones where he would say something to hit my self-esteem and self-consciousness. Like what he said a few minutes ago.

“So I was thinking” Tony cleared his throat, clearing the awkward moment that created the exchange of words between the metal armed man and me. “How about we stay in, watch some movies and have drinks. Something to relax on our day off”

“That sounds good, let’s do it” Wanda chirped in

“I’ll handle the food!” I said and everyone nodded.

“Great, looks like we are about to gain ten pounds,” Bucky said. See, in different times, I’d take it like a joke and laugh about it, but no, he said it and not as a joke.

“Food sounds great y/n/n” Steve said as he gave his best friend a side eye, much like a glare.

I said nothing and went to change out of my pj into something casual to go get some food for us.

Two hours later I was walking into the living room with both hands full of bags of food.

“I’m here!” As soon as I announced myself the team came to the kitchen and took out the plates to place the food.

“About damn time” Sam said and he practically snatched the bag from me

“Yeah, what took you so long?” Nat asked as she was serving her portion

“Well, when you guys want different things from different restaurants, It can take a while. Also-” I was telling when Bruce shouted from the living room, interrupting me.

“The movie started!”

“Oh, come on, you can’t tell me she didn’t choose him!” Wanda said to the now all black tv.

We watched a romantic comedy where the protagonist in the end is forced to choose between two men, and to our surprise, she chose the one that didn’t like her instead of the one that did love her.

“It is what it is” Clint shrugged

“Shut up mr. Im married and have a perfect life” I laughed and the rest also laughed as well.

“Hey y/n, where did you go after getting the food, you never finished” Nat said

“Oh right, I passed by this store that had these beautiful dresses and went in to buy one, but they didn’t have the one I wanted for my size” I said, scrunching my nose, a little bit annoyed. I really wanted that dress.

“Did you check on the plus sized aisle?” There was no need to say who was the one that said it. I felt my chest tighten and I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and turned to look at him.

He was looking at me with a bored expression, almost like he was bored of me and just wanted to mock me.

“No, Barnes, I didn’t” I said.

I know I don't have a body to die for, okay? I’m no Natasha Romanov. I have my good traits, but when he says things like that, I felt like that little kid with the width of a fucking potato. I was not fat… was I?

He was about to say something when the sound of an alarm came off. It was the sound that let us know when something important was going on. A mission.

“Seriously, one day. They can’t wait one day to go all crazy” Sam protested as he got up and everyones went to the briefing room.

Turns out, It was no other than Hydra that decided to reactivate an abandoned facility without knowing that ever since Shield came down in 2014 we put sensors in all the abandoned facilities so that when something like this happens, we are the first ones to know.

Everyone left to suit up and next thing, we are all getting on the jet.

I literally had one foot on the jet when he came barging at me again.

“You’re going? We’re going to be overweight” Bucky said as he walked past me.

Honestly, I don’t know how I can put up with this. It’s been at least a whole month of this kind of shit, breaking me apart little by little. I’m feeling like I’m near my breaking point.

“Yeah? Like you do something other than talk shit about and to me” i bite back and he scoffed

“Well at least I do something on these missions. You? you are nothing but a brat and a burden to the team” he said and went along on the front while i stayed in the back.

Breaking point

“Yeah you’re right” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. Bucky froze on his tracks and visibly tense but I paid no mind. “You’re right James! So how about i stop being a burden and stay in the fucking compound where i won’t be a problem? Steve, I’m out!”

And without second guessing or looking back I started to walk inside the compound, hearing them calling me but not getting a response.

It’s only about three minutes later that the jet finally lifts off into the sky, leaving me all alone.

Oh what a mistake that was, or maybe not?

Now

Dark and hot.

I was struggling to even breathe with all the smoke that was in the air, not to mention the fire that was increasing every passing second.

Turns out, the thing about the abandoned facility was fake, a distraction. How I found out? I was chilling in my room when suddently out of the blue, a fucking explosion blows half a compound.

I'm guessing that they planned to break in knowing that the team was halfway or probably in the Hydra facility an hour away, which means that they don’t know that I’m here, and if they did, the explosion took me out. Little do they know, I won’t go down without a fight, even if it is the whole Hydra squad against a burden like me.

Luckily I decided to wear something comfy.

I got up with a groan, dust off my clothes and took a look around. I was on the main floor. Great, I fell one floor.

I had to get up to the third floor where we keep our wears and weapons. For the time being, I had to use emergency equipment, that is basically a loaded gun with additional ammo, a knife and an anti-bullet vest in certain spots all over the place in case something happens.

Once I found it, I put the vest on and strap the knife along with the ammo in it while I kept the gun in my hand.

Best case scenario, the team is on the way here thanks to Friday alerting them. Worst case scenario, they were already on the location and it could take an hour for them to get here.

It’s a fifty-fifty chance

Let’s go

Bucky’s POV

My body was tense and my heart was beating out of my chest the moment she said I was right, because I most certainly was not. But it was when she took off that I felt my heart stop for a good second.

“y/n wait!” Natalia said but with no response

“What the fuck is your problem Bucky?” Steve snapped

“Oh Lord” Stark said and took a step back, but still watching carefully.

“He said a bad word, you are so doomed” Sam said while shaking his head.

“I don- I don’t know” I simply said, but it was the truth.

“You don’t know? You don’t know!” Steve repeated, his voice getting louder

“I just…” I couldn’t finish because he interrupt me

“Well then you better figure it the fuck out and get it together, or I assure you that you will lose her, if you already didn’t” he stormed to the control panel and gave Clint the coordinates

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, his voice soft but his eyes demanding

I sighed and shook my head

“A few months ago I came to realize that I saw her more than a friend, like, like she was something else. She made me feel happy, like me in the 40’s happy. It scare the shit out of me because i didn’t know how to handle it and i made the idiotic choice to push her away and…” I didn’t even realize that I had tears in my eyes until I looked up at Sam. “I didn’t mean it” I said in a weak voice.

He sighed and put a hand in my shoulder

“She believes the contrary, so when we get back, you better fix it ‘cause Steve’s right man” he said and joined the rest.

They were right, I had to fix the mess I made, even if she doesn’t forgive me or doesn’t take me back in, the least I could do is apologize and try to fix it. Whatever it takes

“It’s clear, there’s no one in here” Wanda said through the coms

“I have a bad feeling about this” I muttered

“You and me both” Clint responded

“Everyone back to the meeting point” Steve said and I made my way to the entrance

“It’s completely empty” Natalia said

“Then why would the sensor go off, how?” Wanda asked

“It’s like they wanted us to come here, but why?” Clint

“A distraction” Tony said

“From what” Natalia asked

Suddenly, Friday’s voice came through the comms

“Explosion detected on the second floor of the Avengers tower, communications are down”

“They wanted us to come here so they could go when we all are an hour away” Clint said

“Not everyone…” Tony spoke and i felt how my heart skipped a bit

“Back to the jet, NOW!” Steve yelled and we all ran to the jet

Oh god please no

Y/n’s POV

Well, it could be worse.

I was currently hiding behind a wall while the bullets came flying at me, some of them went through the wall I was hiding in.

And to my good luck, I was halfway through my ammo. The other set of ammo on this floor was on the side behind the guys that were redecorating the wall with bullet holes.

I could see the stairs, if i shot those guys maybe I would be lucky. Here goes nothing.

Taking a deep breath I took an impulse and slid along the slippery floor thanks to the burst water pipe, and shot the killing shots at the agents, except at the very last one since I ran out; lucky me.

I get up from the floor, I hear a gunshot but the only thing that’s on my mind is getting on the third floor to get more weapons and…. I made it!

I lock the door and start searching for guns, ammo, knives and grenades. Once I’m equipped enough to take down one entire floor and with the adrenaline running through my veins, I go back down to the second floor to stop them from stealing the data.

There are at least ten Hydra agents and I take them down one by one. I let them group up and then, I take out the machine gun and wipe the entire group down in one round. To say I was good with guns and that I have a killing aim is an understatement.

I double checked and ran to the office where I saw them downloading the data into a hard drive.

“Hands up” I say putting the gun against the hydra agent’s head. “I said hands up!”

He slowly retrieves his hands from the computer that makes that little sound that lets you know that the transaction of the information is done.

“Now take the hard drive and give it to me” he complies, “How many more of you are left?” I asked and he clenched his jaw.

“No one… yo killed them all you-” boom, a shot to the head

“Thank you for your cooperation, you picked the wrong day and woman to mess with” I said as I lowered the gun and took a look at the drive in my hand.

I was going to relax and let my guard down when another gunshot echoed in the room. I get down but not fast enough. I feel my own blood trickling down and I have to ignore the pain as I get up and run out of the room.

The adrenaline levels are back up and my senses on alert. I leaned back behind a counter and told myself that this is the last one and then I’m done. I get up ready to shoot but somebody else does it for me. The last Hydra agent hits the floor and when I lift my eyes, they meet with that ice-blue one that makes me want to cry.

I look around and I see that the whole team is getting to the room, looking around at the destroyed compound, dirt, dust, bullets and blood. Suddenly I realized that I was covered in all the things mentioned above.

“Y/n… what happened here?” Tony asked, lifting his helmet.

I smiled weakly and chuckled.

“Good thing I stayed. Hydra blew me up. Well, they didn’t really know I was here but I have a theory that they did know because they blew up the side of the bedrooms. They tried to steal the data we had but I couldn't let that happen, so I stopped them. I...” I said and leaned my side against the counter. I instantly regretted it because of my two gunshot wounds. I hissed at the pain.

“Hey, what is it? Are you hurt?” Bucky said, stepping closer as I took off the vest, exposing what used to be a white shirt, now covered in dirt, blood and two perfectly visible gunshot wounds.

“Oh my-” Natasha was saying

“I’m fine” I said weakly as I started to feel all the pain come at me all at once, the adrenaline gone.

“No, don’t say you’re fine when you are bleeding and have two fucking bullet wounds” Bucky said hysterically as he got closer and I took a step back.

He looked hurt, his eyes glassy with tears and pain showing all over her features.

“Doll please… you are hurt, let me just-” he was saying but i cut him off

“Yeah…'' I chuckled but it soon faded, I started feeling incredibly weak, “guess I won’t be a burden anymore” and suddenly everything became so numb and the voices of my teammates screaming for me to stay awake were more and more far away.

Beep… beep… beep

I whined and started to move, I could feel the soft material of a sheet over me.

I felt so lost, where was i? The voices around me saying my name and telling me to take it easy were getting closer.

“Hey, easy, easy” A deep, male voice said. I opened my eyes and it turned out to be Bruce.

“W-wh-” I couldn’t finish the goddamn sentence because i started coughing like a maniac

“Here” Steve, coming out of nowhere, passes me a plastic cup of water along with a straw.

I drank the water slowly and my organs and throat thank me for that. After I finished the whole cup I cleared my throat.

“What happened?” I asked, handing the cup to Steve. He placed it on the little bedside table.

“Well…” Bruce started and scratched his head. “After you pass out from the blood  loss, Bucky caught you and we took you to the hospital. You had surgery in order to extract the bullets and repair the damages, you lost a spleen, had massive hemorrhage and almost didn’t make it. After being in the ICU for 24 hours and getting better they send you here, since you were out of the woods.”

“How long was I out?” i asked, looking between the two men in the room

“Three days, five hours and 13 minutes” Another voice said before Steve could answer it.

I looked up and there he was. He was a bit thinner than the last time I saw him, his eyes were red and had bags under them, a broken expression and a growing beard. He looked like shit.

Tony came barging through the door panting and putting a hand to his chest.

“Barnes, I swear to god…” He said in between pants, “You know you can’t come in here, you are not all-”

“It’s okay” I intervened, making all the three pairs of eyes look at me, except his, because he didn’t take his eyes off me the second he got in the room. “Actually…” I started saying, not taking my eyes off him either. His face dropped. “Can you guys leave us alone for a moment?” I added

Steve straightened his back and looked at Tony, he shrugged and Steve sighed. Nodding, he squeezed my hand.

“I’ll be right outside” he said as he got up and the three of them left.

It took him a few seconds to gather the courage to even open his mouth, let alone talk.

“So…” I said, breaking the silence and looking at my hands

“Are you okay?” he asked slowly and softly

“Yeah, as okay as i can expect after surviving an explosion, taking down a whole group of Hydra agents all by myself, two gunshot wounds and losing a spleen” I answered, “Not bad for a burden, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it” He said quickly, taking a step closer. “I didn’t mean any of it” his eyes started to water.

“U sure about that? ‘Cause it seemed to me that you hated me-”

“I love you” he snapped

Say what again

“What?” I asked in almost a whisper

“I… love… you” He repeated, taking little pauses in between each word, like he wanted me to acknowledge them, i don’t know…

“Well you got a funny way to show it Barnes” I snorted

“I do, I love you. When I realized that, it scared the shit out of me because you made me feel something I never thought I could feel ever again. Every time I was around you, I felt like I wasn't some shadow of the man I used to be, with you, I was James Bucky Barnes, not the former winter soldier, not the white wolf… I was just James” he explained and his eyes were puffy and red, the tears going down his face like rain on a window.

“Then… Why did you push me away?” I asked in a weak voice, I didn’t wanted to cryyy

“Because I’m a dickhead” he laughed in between cries, making me chuckle a bit. “Because I was scared of what you made me feel and I did the one thing I never should have done. I hurt you” His voice broke at the very end.

I had to look to the side because I could feel a few rebellious tears rolling down.

“I know that i can’t take back what I said” he said, closing the space between us and he sat on the side of the bed, but he still kept a certain distance. “But doll, I take it all back, I don’t care what I have to do for you to forgive me, I'd do anything. Hell, I'll get on my knees and beg for you to forgive me and give me a chance to make it right.”

True to his words, he was starting to get on his knees on the hospital floor.

“What are you- Christ… Bucky get off the damn floor you idiot!” I said, cracking a smile.

“No! I’m trying to make a point here” He was on his knees, palms on his thighs and back straight. Was he…

“I am begging you… and you know that I don't beg. But here I am, on my knees, begging for you to forgive me. Give me a chance and I swear to you, on my mother, Whinniefred Barnes, and my sister, Rebecca Barnes, that if you give me a chance, just one… I swear that I will make it right. Just one chance baby, please” he begged.

I was speechless. Everyone knows that Bucky Barnes does not beg, let alone show vulnerability. Yet, here he was, on his knees begging for a second chance.

“Get up”

“No! i said that i will make it right-”

“I forgive you”

“And I am not getting- What?”

I chucked a little

“I said get up. I forgive you” I repeated

“You’re not messing with me?”

“And why would I do that? Just get up for God sakes”

He got up from the floor in a blink of an eye

“Can I hug you? Please”

“Yes, but careful because- Oww” I couldn’t finish talking because he came at me and hugged me tight.

Feeling his arms around me again after months, it brought me a kind of warmth and safety that only he could provide. I couldn’t help the tears that slipped from my eyes as I hugged him back with the arm that didn’t have any wires.

“I love you doll, more than you can imagine” he said against the crook of my neck and pulled away. I was about to say it back when he shook his head.

“You don’t have to say it back, not right now. I just… I just want you to know that I love you” he said and landed a kiss on my forehead.

“Can we come in!? We want to see her as well!” The muffled voice of Nat came through the door and i laughed

“Come in!” I said and not a second later the whole team came barging through the door.

“So… all good?” Steve asked, flipping his eyes between his best friend and me.

“All good” we both said at the same time

“About damn time” Sam said as he sat on one of the chairs.

“About damn time indeed” Steve agreed

“Language” the whole room said at the same time.

We all burst in laughter as Steve shook his head looking down and covering his face in embarrassment.

“You’re never gonna let that down do ya’?” he asked and once again, we all responded at the same time.

The room was filled with laughs and claps from the embarrassing moment that will haunt Steve for the rest of his life. The whole time, Bucky was holding my hand, and caresing it with his thumb, drawing imaginary circles.

In the end, It all turned out to be great.

[filmtv2022]

To the Bitter End: Chapter Two

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Masterlist

Pairing: Doc Holliday x Earp!Reader

Summary: The youngest Earp sibling joins her older brothers in Tombstone with the hope that the new climate will ease her consumption/tuberculosis symptoms and reconnect her family.  But as she settles into this new life, will she find something worth living for? Someone who can tame the loneliness?

Warnings: Illness + Addiction + Just a few flirtatious/suggestive touches (This list will be updated with each chapter)

Notes: So here is Chapter Two! The reader and Doc are finally reunited! I didn't think I was going to be able to get this second part out so soon, but here we are. My goal is to have Chapter 3 up on Friday since I don't have to work that day. As always, I apologize for errors of any type. Enjoy!

The trek into Tombstone was tediously hot. Sweat had soaked through your cotton dress to the point where all you could think about was peeling the garmet off and letting your skin breathe. Finally, the town came into view. It was a flurry of activity, and the disparity between the haves and have nots was glaringly obvious. The haves strolled through the town in clothing that looked better suited for the streets of Paris. While the have nots sported the tell tale signs of a hard life: tattered clothes that hung loose on their frames and eyes that were filled to the brim with exhaustion. As the wagon slowed down, you took a quick scan of your surroundings, your gaze stopped on the hotel in front of you. Its sign read, "Grand Hotel" and you certainly hoped it would at least partially live up to its name because you'd give almost anything for a comfortable night's sleep in a good bed.

Wyatt helped you and the other ladies out of the wagon before getting someone to bring your bags to the rooms. You chipped in the only real money you had to your name in order to have a room to yourself.

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The room was a bit dark, but nice enough for your needs. You wandered around the small space and took the pin out of your hat, setting both items on the table next to the bed. Grabbing your bag you pulled out the few garments you brought with you hanging them neatly in the wardrobe by the window.  Satisfied that all necessary items had been take care of, it was time to remove the damp clothing that was stuck to your skin.  Stopping half way through the process to cough. Scarlet drops adorned the handkerchief you used to cover your mouth, but seeing the blood no longer phased you like it once did. Taking the cloth you began soaking it in the hope that it wouldn't stain. The quiet of the room settled around you like tomb, reminding you of just how alone you were. Your family may be here physically, but none of them could ever possibly understand the road that was ahead of you.

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Exhaustion had over taken your body the moment your head hit the pillow.  Harsh knocking on the door pulled you from your sleep.

"Y/N...Y/N... it's Morgan. If you don't answer the door in the next 30 seconds I'm breaking it down" You could hear the concern in his voice and quickly made your way to the door, tying your robe as you unhooked the lock & opened it. 

A look of relief flooded Morgan's face as he said, "Wyatt got us all tickets to the show down at the Bird Cage tonight.  He wants us to meet downstairs in about an hour."

"That sounds wonderful. I'll get ready." You plastered a smile on your face that you knew only partially concealed the way your body was screaming for more sleep. Closing the door you took two deep breaths and moved towards the wardrobe. Pulling the door open you knew instantly which dress you were going to wear. It's body and skirt were a deep red with black lace overlaying the entire dress. The neck line cut low with only small cap sleeves to cover your arms. After donning the dress you freshened your curls, pinning a few away from your face.  And lastly, you dabbed the sweat from your forehead and added more rouge to your cheeks. The rouge could no longer conceal the severity of your palor, but it made you look slightly more alive...healthier.

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The Bird Cage was rowdy. The noise of gun shots and loud voices mixed in a cacophony of sounds. Your brothers led the way up the stairs, each couple had their own small table reserved for the night. You watched as Virgil and Morgan settled their wives into their seats before taking their own places. It was easy to see the love they had for their spouses, and it filled your heart knowing that they had found such kind people to spend their lives with.

You heard Wyatt greet someone near your table, and the voice that replied was a like a beacon pulling you back to the Bird Cage. Looking toward Wyatt you saw him, the owner of the voice that had returned you to reality

With a stern tone meant to turn heads you practically shouted, "Why John Holliday," your tone softening as he turned to face you, "As I live and breath."

When Doc turned your way at first his face was stoney, clearly expecting a fight. But when he saw you his features mirrored yours relaxing into a wide smile. A flood of warmth spread throughout his chest as he took in your form in front of him.

"Why Y/N Earp, how the hell are you?"

"Well Doc, me, I am rolling" You said with a smile.

A sharp laugh left Doc as he heard you speak, your voice just as sweet as he remembered.  The pair of you closed the space between you in a few short strides, embracing each other in a hug that was probably a bit too familiar for present company. Your arms wrapped around his neck, while he settled one arm around your waist and a hand in the middle of your back pulling you close.  Your face was nestled into the spot just below his collar bone. He smelled of whiskey and smoke, just like you remembered.

Doc's face was buried in your neck, you could feel his warm breath on your skin. He inhaled deeply recommiting this feeling to memory. The moment was broken by the sound of Mattie clearing her throat in a disgruntled manner. You and Doc broke apart just far enough for you to glare at Mattie, daring her to say something.  Doc moved around you to pull out a chair, ushering you to sit, his hand never fully leaving your body.

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Conversation flowed with ease throughout the show. And it was obvious from the way John spoke that he was clearly not a fan of Mattie either. This was yet another way in which you two paired perfectly. Throughout the night the space between you and Doc closed. Your hands brushed as you both reached for the bottle of wine. The sides of your legs pressed against each other. His arm wrapped around the top of your chair leaving his large, warm hand to rest on your shoulder  rubbing small circles on your skin causing your body to feel flush. You could feel Mattie's judgemental stare burning a hole through your body, but it all felt too right to even care about the concerns of others.

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The bliss was interrupted when you felt a familiar tightening in your chest. As the coughing started you tried to take a sip of water to calm the fit, but it didn't help.  Quickly you pushed yourself back from the table, weaving your way through crowd towards the powder room.  Once inside you pulled your handkerchief out and covered your mouth, allowing your lungs the freedom to cough as deeply as they needed. Thankfully it didn't last too long, but even in that short time your appearance suffered. You stared into the mirror trying to fix yourself enough to look presentable and gather the courage to face your family again. With a huff you pushed yourself away from the counter and back out into the auditorium.

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Returning to the table, Wyatt gave you a concerned looked, while Mattie glared at you as if you had ruined the night. Doc on the other hand did his best to seem unfazed, but he too was worried. Standing up to pull out your chair, he took a closer look at you. Your eyes transfixed on the stage, but for the first time tonight Doc really saw you.  He noticed the pale color of your skin, the line of sweat soaked into the top of your dress, the rim of red just below your eyes, and of course the handkerchief you clung to tightly in your fist.  He was quick to put the pieces together, but he simply didn't want to believe that a beautiful and strong woman like yourself could be facing the same future as him. In that moment he realized he'd do anything to keep you safe... to ease your suffering even a little.

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[pcrushinnerd]

Critical Passenger--Chapter 8

Summary: Before he fully accepted his role as Moon Knight, as Jake Lockley he played hero and made a promise to someone who has come back into his life.

Pairings: Mostly Jake Lockley x femreader, but also Steven Grant x femreader and Marc Spector x femreader because well yeah.

Warnings: Some spice, but nothing R rated.

A/N: See the notes for a ranty post script. lol

last chapter ||| materialist

The Past

You shifted on your pub seat as you stared down at your phone. No new notifications. You'd texted your best friend, telling them you'd send a text when you were out and later, when you got home, so someone other than your date would be aware of where you were tonight. But as the clock dragged into one, five, ten minutes past your scheduled time to be picked up, you were wondering if you were going to be picked up at all.

"7 o'clock. On the dot." You read your putative date's text over and over again. Checking if any new text had come through, but the only thing you saw was his last message: "Wear something nice but comfortable."

So you sat waiting, wearing a nicer pair of jeans, silk camisole, leather jacket, and pumps. Hair down and teased out into more of a freshly fucked style. You wanted so badly to not appear as the--in your mind--somewhat frumpy--and not to mention bleeding--little secretary he'd first encountered.

You tapped your freshly lacquered nails against your tile countertops. This should disqualify him, shouldn't it? If not, would any amount of time? You believed in giving people a chance, but--

You started and almost fell off your seat when your doorbell rang.

You rushed up to the door, then took a moment to check yourself and fluff up your hair a bit before opening the door to Jake (hopefully Jake).

It was Jake. In a fresh button down, crisp black tie, slacks and polished shoes, beneath the familiar cap and jacket.

You looked him up and down. "You clean up quite nicely, Mr. Lockley."

"Hm? Oh, thank you. You look...." He couldn't help his eyes from roaming over every inch of you.

You looked at him expectantly. "...good, I hope?"

"Stunning, actually."

You felt your face grow hot and you couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."

Jake looked down, away. "Sorry for being late," he offered quietly. He mustered enough courage to look you in the eye when he explained: "Had some asshole who just moved here, didn't know what the fuck his address was."

He expected to be excoriated--at least some smart ass comment--but you simply nodded. "It's alright. You're here now."

Jake was surprised, unsure, at that reaction, but within another moment he switched gears. He held out a gloved hand.

"Your ride is here Miss."

....

You couldn't quite believe your eyes.

Parked on your humble street and in front of your aging brownstone apartment building was a sleek, white limousine, waxed and polished so it shined in the moon light overhead.

Jake walked up and opened one of its doors.

"Hop in princess."

You started into the plush red interior. "You...where did this come from?"

"One of the company's luxury fleet. Someone owed me a favor," Jake shrugged.

"Who...are you driving?"

"Well, yeah. Why?"

"Then I want to sit in front with you."

"You don't have to. I want you to ride in comfort."

You smiled up at him, and Jake's heart did a little leap when you said, "But I'm most comfortable close to you."

And so he quickly shut the back passenger door and opened the front passenger door for you to slip in, before he got into the driver seat and off you both went.

It would have felt awkward, maybe a bit off-kilter, to drive the limo with two people up front and no one in the back...if a certain Egyptian God wasn't luxuriating in the back on the ride to the restaurant.

You couldn't see or otherwise sense him, of course. But Khonshu's presence was unmistakable to Jake.

The God wasn't saying anything, but Jake could spot him looking over at you a lot. It was making the cabbie vaguely nervous, even though he had been the one to ask the bird brain along on this....

Christ. This was a job, basically. To you, it was a date, but ultimately all this was a sort of reconnaissance mission to see what he could get out of you regarding the cartel. To maybe have some sort of in or unwitting spy on the organization.

Didn't stop him from weirdly feeling like a piece of shit about this, though. Not that he gave a two ton New York rat's ass about lying generally, especially when this was all for a good cause. But he also wasn't one to bullshit around either; he had to admit he was genuinely attracted to you. So far, you were the nicest person he had encountered in a long time, especially in a city like New York. The only element of all this that felt like a chore or that dragged on him was his having to lie to you.

But he did his best to shove those feelings aside, to smother them down into some dark hole and simply play the part of the charming suitor.

Ugh, had he really just used that word, even if just inside his own head?

He rounded a corner quickly yet deftly. Despite his being in a bigger, pricier vehicle, Jake was driving aggressively enough to have you grip your door handle a few times on the way to the restaurant. Yet the man clearly knew how to handle the machine with ease.

Your mind was wandering off into heated thoughts of what else he could just as expertly, when the limo slowed and pulled up to a curb.

"We're here."

.....

"This place is beautiful," you remarked, your head on a swivel as you took in the polished wood, soft lighting, and dulcet jazz tunes. You had been shown to a corner booth at the very back, which you imagined had to have required a bit of string pulling to reserve, but you didn't ask.

You didn't get the chance to ask too many questions, as Jake kept the conversation mostly on you, asking about your younger years, college, your job.

He seemed particularly interested in what you did for a living, even though you were basically a secretary at a mid-tier financial advising firm. You didn't really understand much of the substantive stuff that may have crossed your desk or was overheard beyond office doors. You kept your boss's desk and calendar in order, largely, and weren't paid too badly for it.

You were able to glean from Jake that he was former military, specifically Marine Corp, and he had been driving "for a while," but back in New York for about a year after being away for some time. That he loved the city and the Yankees, and had to have at least two cups of black java in the morning to feel like he could function.

A part of you was curious and knew you should discuss something of the future--hopes and dreams, what each of you wanted in a partner, career plans, etc., but the conversation never really flowed in that direction. Which was fine. You were enjoying your handsome company, and how interested he was in you, despite the one-sidedness of the conversation maybe being a red flag to some.

"It's been a long time since I've had such a good time," you told him, as you both stood at your apartment door.

"Good," Jake smiled--almost smirked.

A heavy silence hung between you. This was the part of the evening where you should decide whether you wanted to invite him in to, well, essentially your bed, or to tell him to skedaddle for now. You wanted badly to do the former, had a feeling Jake also wanted the former, but this...whatever this was...was still so new. You didn't want to risk ruining it.

"I'll text you," you offered, before moving to peck him on the cheek. "Thank you for tonight." You were pausing before pulling away.

"Can I kiss you?" he breathed near your ear, causing a shudder to run down your body.

"Yes."

His lips moved over yours, teasing, testing, before he dove in. You'd noticed he was wearing cologne before, but the rich scent of sandalwood and cedar, tobacco smoke, and the lingering bourbon he had at dinner, and something that was distinctly him, filled your senses now.

You couldn't help placing your hands on his chest, their slipping up and wrapping around his neck. His hands, up to this point hovering over your arms, grasped them, before his strong arms fully enveloped you as the kiss deepened.