#wild and good scout work

[starry-bite]

looked up emily's address as lauren. just for fun. it is on a cul-de-sac. i am losing my mind.

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[msommers]

ok work is done and i still think jorina dropping an entire confession on aleksi before the biggest fight they've ever been part of is good and funny bc she'd want to take it back immediately. right as the words were leaving her mouth. and i think it's fun when jorina's dying from being vulnerable

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What is their role within the group?

Marko

- The crazy

- I think out of all the boys Marko is closest with his vampire nature

- He puts the least amount of effort into trying to blend in

- And why should he?

- He’s an old, powerful being, who has seen a lot of life. He’s more authentic then any human on the board walk

- He gives the group that feeling of being unhinged, of being one step away from complete anarchy

- To the public he is a warning of how dangerous the boys are

- Everyone has heard about what this boy can and will do to his victims

- But I think to the group, they see him as a reminder of their true nature

- Vampires at heart exist outside of society, they are the strangers that everyone fears. They are chaos and beauty.

- So, whenever the boys get a tad too *horrified gasp* domestic. Marko is right there to remind them of what they are

- Chaotic, bloodthirsty, unpredictable vampires

Paul

- Life

- Paul reminds the boys that though they may be dead, there is still so much life to live

- He’s the one that is up way past sunrise singing a song he just can’t get out of his head in the most acoustic part of the cave

- He’s the one talking to the travelers on the Board walk about their adventures abroad, and what they’ve seen and done (I have a feeling that though he may be older, he hasn’t traveled outside the United States much)

- Paul is the one challenging some of the boys more outdated/old fashioned opinions

- I believe he is definitely the youngest out of all the boys, so his views are more modern

- Whenever there is a new ride on the Boardwalk he HAS TO ride it. Or a new snack or arcade game! basically whatever is NEW he must see and experience!

- He’s teaching himself how to play the guitar, and he’s not that good at it but he doesn’t stop practicing despite David’s complaints

- Paul reminds the boys that there is more to their existence then drinking blood and hunting

- He is the life of the group

Dwayne

- the handyman

- I think he would be the one responsible for fixing the bikes. He wouldn’t be responsible for like the general maintenance on all four bikes, but when Marko takes the Boardwalk stairs a tad too quick, and snaps a part of his bike, Dwayne fixes it

- Over the years he has gained a lot of experience on how to fix the bikes and stuff around the cave

- This is mainly due to living with the destructive duo that is Marko and Paul

- He generally really does like to fix things, it gives him a sense of purpose within the group

- He’s usually the muscle of the group (and he doesn’t have any complaints with this because it pats his ego) but he does like being able to tangibly provide something to his brothers

- Usually he will fix up the bikes without being asked, or trick one out as a surprise for one of his brothers

- He’s friends with the owner of a local mechanic shop, and trades work for parts on occasion

- thankfully the owner doesn’t ask many questions when he has to bring a bike in for fixing, and it’s got a few splatters of blood here and there

David

- The procurer

- David is the one constantly on the look out for the groups next meal

- Even if it looks like he is relaxing, smoking a cigarette while leaning against a board walk railing, taking in the lively scenery. He’s not. He scouting.

- They need to feed every few days at the very least, and it’s not every night they can find a bite to eat

- They don’t feed from shop owners, and they do it sparingly from the locals to not draw to much suspicion

- When David spots someone that he thinks would be a tasty meal, he spends a while observing them. And then determines which of his boys would be the best to draw the human in

- Do they look preppy and girly? Paul would be able to pull them with his rocker look and charm

- Are they stand off-ish and a little wild? Gremlin energy would be the way to go, and with Marko’s big eyes, who could resist?

- A shy beauty? Being ignored by her obnoxious friends? Oh yes, Dwayne will be able to get them stuttering and bashful with one look

- It’s almost too easy at times, but David doesn’t mind, because once off season hits the Boardwalk, hunting gets a lot, lot harder

[kingkatsuki]

— when it’s raining outside

Masterlist.

I know it’s been a while, but I’m falling back in love with this Bakugou specifically.

Warnings: none.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

Regardless of Pro-Hero Dynamight being one of the most successful fire quirk users in Japan, his agency isn’t exempt from Health and Safety. Some may argue that his team are far more strict compared to the likes of Shouto’s building which is only a few blocks away, and it’s definitely not because the Number Two Hero almost set fire to an entire floor when testing out new grenade designs.

But since that incident, there have been consistent fire drills weekly to ensure that the building and its staff are protected. Along with new fire safety robots that have been deployed to ensure that each individual makes it out safely.

“Another dumb fuckin’ tick box exercise.” Bakugou would always say, and he was probably right. The Pro-Hero alone could probably rescue each person trapped inside the building if something did happen, but it’s always good to be precautious right?

Or so you would say, until the fire alarms were blaring on a particularly bleary Monday while you were trying to unjam the photocopier. Groaning at the abrasive noise as you debated running back to your desk for your coat (and coffee) before being forced out of the warmth of the agency into the torrential downpour outside.

“Do not panic! We are here for your safety.” You scrunched your nose at the voice that was arguably worse than the alarm as you turned to face the fire Marshall robots which were now skimming the floor. The red flashing lights swirling angrily as the computerised smile on the machine that was surely there to calm you did the exact opposite.

“Stop. In case of emergency do not take the elevator.” The robot continued to blare. The designated fire drills always happened on a Friday afternoon (conveniently when Dynamight left for his evening patrol), so you wondered whether this may be a real incident as you made your way towards the stairs.

You had further to go compared to anyone else, working on the top floor alone with Dynamight so the lower you descended you began to see other employees— some lucky enough to be carrying coats and umbrellas as you followed them further. The noise from the alarm echoed in the hall as it mixed with the chatter, wondering what had happened and if they were safe. But at that moment you were more irritated that you’d be going outside in nothing but a thin cotton shirt and trousers.

The cold was bitter as you finally made it to the bottom floor of the sky scraper, thankful you wouldn’t have to ascend them after as you stepped into the heavy rain. Wrapping your arms around yourself to try and provide some comfort as you tried to look for any space under the shelter surrounding the building. The majority which was already taken by the employees that worked on the lower floors, huddled together and squeezed under umbrellas to shield themselves from the wet. Although, there were plenty like you who had not been fortunate enough to grab something on their way down and were just as exposed to the elements.

Resigning to defeat you huddled as close to a neighbouring building as you could, thankful it at least shielded you enough from the wild tunnel Dynamight’s Agency created to prevent being pelted with rain.

But it was still freezing.

Shimmying from toe to toe as you tried to keep yourself warm, watching as Backdraft turned up with the local fire service to scout the building.

“What’s goin’ on?” You heard a voice behind you as you turned to face your boss standing there, gym bag slung over his shoulder and a black hoodie pulled over his messy blond spikes.

“Shouldn’t you be saving us from the fire?” You laughed.

“Shut up, dumbass.” He scoffed, before his voice softened, “Where’s your coat?”

“In there.” You nodded towards his agency as he shook his head.

“Why didn’t you grab it?”

“Those stupid robots wouldn’t let me,” You pouted, now so wet you could no longer feel the rain dampening your skin.

Bakugou’s lip curled into the faintest hint of a smile at this, unbothered about the rain as he dumped his gym bag to the ground in favour of reaching back to tug his hoodie up and over his head. The movement pulled his black shirt up along with it, and you shamelessly ogled the exposed skin as you followed the wispy hairs of his happy trail disappear beneath black sweatpants. The hem of his boxers peeking out from under them as you felt a heat rise to your cheeks and flurry through you all the way down between your thighs.

Turning your head just in time as he pulled his shirt back down over his stomach before holding the hoodie out to you, pushing it into your side.

“What are you doing?” You looked down at the hoodie before glancing up at him.

“Put it on.” He replied bluntly.

“But you’ll get wet—”

“Put it on.” He ignored your objection, reaching up to ruffle his messy hair as the rain now began to dampen it.

“Thank you.” You murmured, instantly feeling the relief as you tugged it over your head.

The heat that radiated from Bakugou’s body now encapsulating you as you pulled your arms through the sleeves, burying your nose in the fabric as you inhaled the scent of him. A mixture of sweat and cologne as you almost forgot that you were standing outside in the pouring rain. No longer in a rush to get back inside the warm building as you let yourself be surrounded by him.

“Is it a drill?” You asked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to begin calling a number.

“No idea.” He rasped while holding it up to his ear.

You tried to listen in on the conversation but the mixture of wind, chatter and the alarms in the distance made it difficult to decipher what was being said on the other line.

“It’s a false alarm.” Bakugou scoffed as he hung up, “Someone triggered the alarm in the canteen.”

“See what happens when you’re not around,” You smiled to yourself as Bakugou pushed his wet spikes back, exposing his forehead as he smirked back, “All hell breaks loose.”

“Yeah, can’t leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes, can I?” He scoffed.

When you were finally let back inside the building, you offered to take Bakugou’s hoodie home to wash it before giving it back to him but he wouldn’t allow it. Telling you it was just an old hoodie and it didn’t matter— but the real reason he wanted to take it back like it was because after wearing it outside the scent of your perfume still lingered on the fabric.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Why does Monkey live with Leah and not her own family?

— monkey's past | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

despite her wild and chaotic antics, the girl's background is actually pretty sad and she doesn't like to talk much about it.

the nightmares from monkey's past at night haunt her sometimes.

monkey always considered her relationship with her parents her father to be challenging and hard, while the relationship with her mother is pretty much non-exsistant.

she finds it hard to talk about them things.

her mother abandoned her only child when she was little, no explanation - one day monkey woke up and the women had fled.

there was no goodbye, no note, nothing.

the resentment for the women was still is there and whenever monkey is asked about her mother, she's always quick to drop the subject.

the team have learned that the hard way in the past.

"my mother is dead,"

"is she really?"

"no, but... well, she might as well be,"

monkey's relationship with her father was complicated to say the least, the man had to raise her alone when his wife walked out on them when monkey was just shy of 2 for a whole new family.

her father had a few various different coping mechanisms - throwing himself into his work and drinking, sometimes even drugs.

the man definitely did have a temper and the scars on monkey's back prove it, unfortunately.

"i'm sorry dad,"

"sorry isn't good enough. you should know better!"

"dad,"

"your nothing but a disappointment, your mother had the right idea to leave you when she did. get out of my sight, now!"

if the man wasn't passed out on the sofa drunk or lashing out at his daughter with his fists, he was throwing himself into his work.

monkey was completely neglected and alone, but he was clever and always made it seem like he was the caring doting father, so he was to never get caught out.

monkey never got to escape her fathers' clutches until she was 16

when arsenal scouted monkey, the man was more than happy enough to sign the papers and all but washed his hands off her.

"i've washed my hands off her, shes' your problem now."

there was never any contact from that day.

not even on birthday or christmases.

monkey should have felt a sense of freedom, but instead she was lost.

the man who had so much hatred for his daughter and all she wanted craved was his approval.

monkey has always been a life-long gooner, joining the academy when she turned 8 and it felt like a dream come true, her dad was a gooner as well - it's in her blood, she lives and breathes arsenal.

being only 16 when she signed, she was taken under the wing of the older girls, more so specifically leah who she moved in with, along with kim, the two she formed a pretty close bond with.

"your my person, you both are. i love you."

"we've always got your back here, monkey."

"and your never alone, you have family here."

"we love you too, menace."

it was at the age of 18 when monkey found out her dad died, not that it made any difference at all.

"ha, well guess that i really am an orphan now, right?"

"monkey,"

"was it the drinking or drugs that killed him? it was only a matter of time,"

after all, monkey thinks that dark humor is the way to make things better.

it's become her coping mechanism.

"should i care? he didn't care about me when i was alive, why should i care about him when he's dead?"

it's safe to say that monkey's past is pretty haunting to her, but with the stability that she has around her, its' better now she has the arsenal girls to look out for her.

monkey has her chosen family, she is protected and loved by all of the older girls, despite how much of a menace she can be at times.

I didn't plan for this to be so sad, but here we go. feel free to continue to send me hc's for this little world i'm creating!

[her-devils-advocate]

In my arms is where you ought to be

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, eventual fluff

summary: In the dead of night, the anxieties that you had tried to keep bottled up have finally crept up on you. Bringing along all the thoughts you had tried to lock away with it.

Luckily for you, you're not alone.

note: Wrote this today since my own anxieties have been acting up and part of me wishes I could have my own Levi to help me through them, so I decided to settle for the 2nd best option: making it possible through fiction!

word count: 2,428

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55642015

You lie awake in bed, watching the shadows twist and turn on the flaking ceiling above. You are unsure of the time, having given up trying to chase the ever-elusive sleep hours ago. The moon hanging high above in the inky sky signals that it's still early in the morning, too early to be awake, yet the swirling sensation of panic keeps your eyes wide open.

The silence is almost deafening, a heavy weight on your ears as you strain to make out a single sound within the building full of sleeping scouts. The only sound to reveal itself to you is the frantic thumping of your heart, almost as if trying to escape from its cage of flesh and bone. You feel your hands tingle, like ants crawling under your skin before it fades to the familiar numbness you have come to know well. You sit up in the bed, finally fed up with staring into space and letting your mind run wild and as the blanket slides off your form, the bitter night air nips at your skin. You welcome the new sensation, happy to feel something other than the growing chaos within. 

Despite being surrounded by dozens of scouts, some of whom would easily relate to your current state, you have never felt more alone than in these moments. You have felt yourself drift over time, growing more and more distant from those around you until you can’t even recognise yourself in the mirror, feeling more and more like a poor imitation of the real thing. Fake smiles and practiced words have since become second nature as your heart does its best to drag you down with each frantic beat. 

You can’t remember when it started to creep up on you, but if the previous week of tearful nights has been anything to go by, it’s not a recent change. If anything, you should have expected its unwelcomed arrival, yet things had been going well recently and you had all but assumed it was gone for good. You swing your legs over the side of the bed with a small groan, bringing your hands up to rub at your face wearily. 

The room is too quiet and the beating of your heart is too loud.

Everything is suffocating and your skin feels too hot. You drag yourself out of the room, each step feeling harder than the last as you dart through the headquarters’ hallways with no goal in mind. The once familiar corridors now warp into unrecognisable labyrinths, beckoning you further into the unknown. You are unable to hold back the flood of tears that now silently pour down your cheeks, and despite your best attempt to wipe them away, they are instantly replaced with fresh tears now free from their mental prison. All you can do is hope there is no one else awake to see you in this state as you continue to pull yourself through the long corridors. 

“What gives you the right to feel this way when so many others have lost more than you?”

“They will think you’re pathetic if they were to see you in such a sorry state.”

With each passing breath, your mind grows into your own worst enemy, betraying you with stray thoughts plucked out of nowhere and perfectly aimed towards your heart. You pick up your pace, almost as if you can outrun the silent harassment.

“How did someone so unstable even get accepted as a scout?”“Titan fodder.”

The shadows of the hallway seem to follow your escape, doing their best to drag you back as you break out into a small jog. The moon watches bitterly from its position in the sky, remaining still and refusing to lower itself so the sun's forgiving rays can break through and grant you guidance.

You finally slow your pace when you reach a sign of life within the silent building and with a bated breath, you watch as candlelight escapes through the cracks in the wooden door. As you slowly approach the door, you can faintly hear the sound of a pen gliding over paper from within. Tottering on the spot, you try to gather the courage to knock, knowing who awaits behind the wooden shield between you. Despite your frantic run, your body has led you straight to the only person who can help calm your panicked state.

Your mind and heart are at war with one another as you stand alone in the cold corridor, your hand is raised to knock on the old wood and yet you can’t bring yourself to complete the action. The seconds feel like hours as you try to compel your body to let your fist connect with the door, but before you can, the choice is made for you. The door opens with a small creak and you are left gazing up into Levi’s steely eyes. You fidget under his stare, mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the necessary words.

Instead, you hang your head, more than content to stare at the ground, taking in the stark difference between the dusty hallway and the pristine floor of his office. You can feel yourself shivering and you squeeze your eyes shut, as if doing so would block out the buzzing of your overactive mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” A cold finger lifting your chin causes your eyes to fly open, widening in shock as you stare at him once more. He takes in the still-damp tears that paint your cheeks and the way your chest rises and falls at a worrying pace.

His face holds the same expressionless mask, yet you have come to know how to read that mask well and can see the concern hidden deep within. 

He watches as you shift your weight from leg to leg, the unknown panic creeping up your throat and holding your jaws shut, condemning you to silence. He raises a single eyebrow before standing aside, holding the door open to you in a silent invitation before moving back to sit at his desk. 

You swiftly pad into the room, softly closing the door before manoeuvering to drop into the spare chair in front of his desk. You watch as he proceeds to pick up his pen and continue to work on the stack of papers piled neatly on the side of his desk. The quiet scratching of the pen against paper helps distract you enough for your heart to calm, no longer frantically hammering away from within, and for a moment you are convinced that you could manage to doze off within the safety of his quiet haven.

You watch as he carefully lifts his cup by the rim, bringing it to his lips with practised ease before placing it back down onto the coaster. The way he grips his cup has always confused you, yet you never thought to question it, simply narrowing it down to nothing more than a quirk of his. He catches you staring out of the corner of his eye, not once slowing in his battle against the paperwork.

“Are you ready to talk about why I happened to find you crying outside my door in the dead of night?” 

His steady voice rushes over you and you raise your knees to your chest, dragging your finger across the polished desk, drawing invisible patterns over the aged wood. With your free hand, you subtly wipe away what remains of your distress.

“It’s just… my chest hurts.” You whisper lamely as shuffle to get comfy, your hand pressed firmly against your chest while you speak.

You don’t miss the way his eyebrows rise or the way he goes rigid in his chair, “do we need to get you to the infirmary?”

Under any other circumstance, you would laugh at the confusion, yet you are far too drained and jittery to even try. You also don’t want to risk the lecture that would most certainly bring.

“No, not like that. It’s just a physical reaction to my mind, I think? I don’t know, there’s a reason I’m a scout, not a doctor.” Despite everything, that earns you a small amused scoff from Levi before you can continue, “I’ve been overthinking a lot recently… About everything and nothing at all, I don’t know, I’m a bit of a mess right now and it’s so hard to concentrate. I’m just… scared?”

“Why are you asking? It’s not like I can tell you how you are feeling.” Levi replies, silently placing the pen aside and leaning on his elbow on the desk, his head resting on his hand and giving you his full attention.

You rest your head on your knees, pulling them even closer towards you as you avert your eyes, “because I was hoping that you would have the answer.”

A small, weary sigh escapes your lips as you struggle beneath his calm stare, he is silent, letting you gather your thoughts without relying on his input to help you piece your emotions together. Your invisible drawings on his desk have ceased, instead morphing into impatient taps speeding in tempo.

“I think I might have just hit my limit, bottled up too much to save for later and later finally arrived. My chest feels like it's in a vice and I’ve been on edge more and more recently. I don’t feel like myself, I just want it to go away.” You bury your face in your hands, exhaustion fully washing over you as you finish your best attempt at explaining the tangled web of emotions swirling within you. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Levi asks, his question is quiet yet weighs heavily on you. You have always been close to him, trusting him with everything and in kind, he has always trusted you with his fair share of secrets and his past. Over time, you both came to love one another, stealing away time together whenever you could, slipping secret notes under his door when you couldn’t spend the evening curled up beside him. 

A part of you wants to blame your silence on not wanting him to see you in a different light, not wanting him to think you are weak and unfit to be a scout, let alone standing proudly at his side. But the rational part of your mind, fighting for control amidst the conflict, knows that to be lies fed to you by your current state.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to worry you.” You finally lift your head to look into his eyes once more, the gentle glow of the candlelight reflecting within.

“Considering the fucked up world that we live in, I’m always going to worry about you.” This time he’s the one to glace away, the wax dripping down the side of the candle seeming to be a good distraction as he opens his shielded heart.

“You can always come to me. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’d prefer to have you in my sight during these moments. So I know you’re alright.”

You give a small nod, untangling yourself as you stand from the chair and move towards the small settee placed in front of the fire. Once you have gotten yourself settled on the plush fabric, you extend your hand, palm up, towards him. His eyes soften as he sits next to you, throwing one arm across the back of the chair behind you and you hear him let out a low chuckle as you shuffle closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

His arm abandons the back of the sofa, coming down to rest on your shoulder and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lightly drag his finger up and down the top of your arm. The action causes your skin to tingle beneath his touch. You take his free hand in yours and he quietly watches as you play with his fingers, the fretfulness finally beginning to fade away. 

“How’re you feeling now?” He breaks the comfortable silence, his voice becomes a murmur as he rests his cheek against your head.

“Better, I can still feel it, but it’s a lot quieter than it’s been all week now. Thank you, Levi.”

“Tch, I’ve not done anything for you to thank me, it’s not like I can control what you feel.” You give him a small giggle in response, not even needing to see his expression to know he’s rolled his eyes.

“We both know that’s a lie, Ackerman. You’re the only one who’s able to get my heart to flutter like this, just for an entirely different reason.”

You are met with a small nudge, the action causes you to gasp as he perfectly hits your ticklish spot and you retaliate by turning your head, letting your cold nose connect with the warm flesh of his neck and drawing out an unimpressed groan from the man.

“You have the worst timing when it comes to flirting.” Despite his words, you can hear the small grin in his voice, unrestrained in the privacy of his office. He wraps his arm tighter around you, pulling you onto his chest and holding you tight. You bring your intertwined hands up to rest on your chest before letting your mind melt away, enveloped in his warm embrace and surrounded by his scent, the mix of his soap and the lingering scent of tea pleasantly washing over you.

You let your eyes drift shut, your body begging for a nap, at the very least, and you feel him shuffle beneath you, his fingers flexing over your chest. 

“Is it supposed to be that fast? I thought you said it was better?” He tries to sit up to get a better look at you, but you refuse to let him, pushing him back down with a small whine so you can snuggle closer. He relents with a small grunt.

“I am feeling better, please trust me on that. It doesn’t physically hurt as much now and I feel like I’m finally able to relax for longer than five minutes at a time.” You nuzzle your face against the soft fabric of his shirt, claiming him as your bed for the night. He lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and your eyelids grow heavier and heavier when you feel his hand come to rest on the top of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair with slow strokes as he lulls you into a well-deserved sleep.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Shadow and Paws

Chapter 2: Trust Issues

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

AU: Hybrid 141 X hybrid reader

Warning: Mostly fluff, team building

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy this chapter, they aren’t together yet but they will be eventually. The reader’s nickname is Foxy

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist | Chapter 1 Chapter 3

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The fire crackled softly, casting shifting shadows across the forest floor as the 141 team sat in a tense circle around the fox hybrid, who had introduced themselves as "Foxy." Their first meeting had been more of a standoff than an alliance, and while Price had given the signal to work together, trust was still tenuous. Foxy seemed to sense this, their eyes flickering from one face to the next, a knowing smile curling on their lips.

Captain Price leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Foxy. “We’ll give this a shot,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. That means learning to trust each other. No surprises, no games. If you’re keeping anything from us, now’s the time to say it.”

Foxy raised an eyebrow, their expression playfully defiant. “I told you—this is my territory. The rogues have been moving in, and I don’t plan on giving it up. If that’s not good enough for you, then maybe we’re wasting each other’s time.”

Ghost huffed, his eyes narrowing. “Your territory’s just woods. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than some fox’s backyard.”

Foxy’s gaze shifted to Ghost, meeting his glare head-on. “And maybe I have bigger things to worry about than trusting a bunch of outsiders with my life.” Their voice was light, but there was a bite to their words that made even Soap’s smirk falter.

Price sighed, the tension thickening between them. “Enough. We’re all here for a reason. Let’s see if you can back up your talk.” He rose to his feet, nodding toward the dark forest beyond their campfire. “You said this is your territory. Show us.”

Foxy’s eyes lit up, a playful glint sparking in their gaze. “All right, Captain. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

They moved through the forest at a brisk, Foxy leading the way with confident steps that barely disturbed the foliage underfoot. The team followed close behind, moving as a unit, each member quietly observing Foxy’s movements. Every few steps, Foxy would throw a glance over their shoulder, as if making sure they hadn’t lost anyone.

After a while, they came to a clearing with a small waterfall cascading into a narrow stream. Foxy crouched by the edge, motioning for the others to join. “Water here’s fresh,” they murmured, dipping a hand in and cupping some to their lips. “One of the few reliable sources around here.”

Soap crouched next to them, watching intently. “You know your stuff,” he admitted with a nod. “How long you been out here?”

“Long enough to know how to survive,” Foxy replied, a hint of pride in their voice. They scanned the area, their nose twitching as they scented the air. “We’ll take a short rest here. But don’t get too comfortable. This place isn’t as safe as it looks.”

Price leaned against a nearby tree, watching as Foxy moved with a grace that even Ghost seemed to begrudgingly respect. They settled into a rhythm of scouting and teaching, the team following Foxy’s lead as they learned the tricks of survival in the wild. After a while, Foxy paused, their gaze flickering to Soap.

“You,” they said, smirking, “think you’re up for a little challenge?”

Soap grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Always.”

Foxy took a few steps back, gesturing toward the waterfall. “The stones leading across the water are slippery, and the current is stronger than it looks. But if you make it to the other side without slipping, I’ll take you all to one of my hidden lookout spots—a place even the rogues haven’t found.”

Soap’s grin widened, his tail giving a playful wag. “Watch and learn,” he said, launching himself forward, hopping from stone to stone with surprising agility. He made it halfway across, the team watching with bated breath, when his foot slipped. He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself on a nearby boulder, his expression a mix of frustration and laughter.

Foxy chuckled, crossing their arms. “Not bad. But try again, and this time… trust your instincts, not your strength.”

Soap tried again, this time adjusting his movements to match the rhythm of the water. He moved with a newfound grace, reaching the other side with a triumphant grin. “How’s that?”

Foxy gave him a nod of approval, their eyes sparking with admiration. “Not bad, soldier. You might survive out here yet.”

They returned to the group, the camaraderie between Soap and Foxy settling some of the initial tension. Next, Foxy turned to Ghost, a challenging gleam in their eye. “What about you? Think you can handle yourself in the dark?”

Ghost shrugged, his panther instincts attuned to shadowed places. “I am the dark,” he replied, his voice barely more than a growl.

Foxy led Ghost a few paces into the trees, stopping at the edge of a dense thicket. “There’s a hidden path through here,” they explained. “It’s nearly invisible, and only those with a sharp eye will notice it. You find it, you can lead us.”

Ghost examined the thicket, narrowing his eyes. His movements were measured, methodical, as he searched for any sign of a trail. After a few moments, he spotted a faint indentation in the ground—a nearly undetectable path winding through the shadows. Without a word, he gestured for the others to follow, leading them through the hidden trail with Foxy following closely behind, a hint of approval in their gaze.

As they continued, Gaz finally spoke up. “You’re good at this, Foxy,” he murmured. “How did you learn all this?”

Foxy shrugged, their gaze shifting to the treetops where Gaz often perched in falcon form. “You learn a lot when you don’t have anyone else to rely on. Out here, you either adapt, or you don’t last long.”

Gaz nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But out here… it’s better when you’re not alone.”

For a moment, Foxy’s gaze softened, their usual guarded expression faltering. “Maybe,” they murmured, looking away. “But trust is dangerous.”

Price watched this exchange in silence, his wolf instincts sensing the weight behind Foxy’s words. He stepped forward, meeting their gaze. “We’re all taking a risk here. But if we’re going to survive, we need to start acting like a pack.”

Foxy held his gaze, something shifting in their eyes. After a moment, they gave a single nod. “Then let’s make sure we all know our place in this pack. You’ve shown me your skills, but survival out here requires more than muscle.”

They turned, gesturing toward a rocky incline leading up to a high vantage point overlooking the forest. “Up there. I want to see how each of you handles an ambush scenario. You make it to the top without getting ‘caught,’ and maybe I’ll start believing you’re more than a bunch of brutes.”

Soap grinned, taking the lead, darting up the incline with surprising agility, his husky instincts guiding him. He made it halfway before Foxy, moving with fox-like stealth, appeared from behind a boulder, forcing him to retreat. Gaz went next, taking to the air and weaving through the branches, but Foxy anticipated his movements, cutting him off with quick, calculated moves.

Ghost and Price exchanged a look, understanding that this was as much about strategy as it was about skill. They worked together, moving in tandem to flank Foxy, keeping their movements quiet and coordinated. Foxy, caught off guard by their teamwork, tried to counter, but the combined effort was too much. Price and Ghost reached the top together, their breaths coming in quiet, controlled pants.

When they turned, Foxy was watching them, a new respect in their gaze. “Impressive,” they admitted. “Maybe you’re more than brutes after all.”

They returned to the campfire, where the mood had lightened, the initial tension beginning to ease. Soap clapped a hand on Foxy’s shoulder, grinning. “You’re not half-bad yourself, fox. Think you’re finally starting to warm up to us?”

Foxy smirked, their eyes gleaming with playful defiance. “Don’t get too comfortable, soldier. This is still my territory.”

Price chuckled, settling by the fire as he felt the faintest glimmer of trust begin to form between them. The fox hybrid might be an enigma, but they had earned a place among the team—for now. And as the firelight flickered, casting shadows across the forest, he couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, they were exactly where they were meant to be.

————————

End Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

[dearqueerheart]

sorry just let me infodump for one second, ok? ok.

epic the musical has me in a chokehold (spoilers ahead, PLEASE GO LISTEN if it seems like something you’d be into). and i was rethinking on the song Monster. specifically, the part where he begins to justify being cruel by comparing himself to the foes he’s faced. polyphemus, circe, poseidon (i 1000% think the order matters, ill get there in a second). and all of that just shows how his, like so many dangerously intelligent men in greek myths, big flaw is hubris. overwhelming hubris. he thinks that he’s allowed to be cruel because a cyclops, a witch, and a god are allowed to be cruel. he is just one of so many greeks who think they’re as good as — or even better than — the gods.

and there are hints of this throughout the entire show up until that point. he attempts (and succeeds in, after facing tragic losses) to deceive polyphemus by drugging him with the lotus fruit, believing that he is more powerful and intelligent than the cyclops. he tries to reason with poseidon after being asked by the sea god for an apology for blinding his son, but he does this in SUCH a manipulative way. poseidon tells him, “i won’t kill your men if you apologize to me,” and ody goes, “alright bet,” and gives him such an incredible non-apology (“poseidon, we meant no harm”). he is too fucking proud to apologize, and will attempt to MANIPULATE AN OLYMPIAN GOD in order to protect that pride. it’s wild.

he actually does successfully “defeat” circe, but only by literally begging her (“i beg you circe, grant us mercy”) to save his men and help him get home. he wins this fight because he puts his pride aside for once in his goddamn life, and rescues the scouting party because of it.

so here’s why the order matters in the song monster: he’s working himself up to comparing himself to an olympian. he doesn’t list his foes in chronological order. he lists them in amount of power and intelligence. if you just take what he’s saying at face value, he says “well, polyphemus was justified, and circe was justified, and poseidon was justified, then i must be, too!” but if you read deeper, he’s comparing his evil deeds to the evil deeds of people far more powerful and complicated and experienced than him.

in the thunder saga, both scylla and zeus manipulate this pride. scylla uses it to drop odysseus’ guard, inviting him to compare himself to her, and to find kinship with her, as they’re both “monsters” (“deep down, you know that we are the same”). and zeus tests his pride, to see how deep it fully goes, and possibly to reveal to odysseus himself how prideful he is. like poseidon and athena, zeus may be trying to teach odysseus a lesson, albeit significantly harsher than the latter. (“if i had to make you choose the lives of your men and crew or your own, why do i think they’d lose?”) it’s one of my favorite moments in that song, because it’s really just zeus pushing all of odysseus’ buttons to force him to make the choice that zeus wants him to make.

anyway that’s all. it’s just so cool and i have a lot of thinks!! i could make a whole essay just about the gods’ desire to teach odysseus but i’ll save that for another time.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Across Time (1)

A/N: Okay... I got a really good ask (found here) that inspired a whole new story. I promise I can write one shots..... long stories are just so much more fun.

I decided to give Adar the name Eruviel, meaning Spirit of the One, or Soul of Creation. I thought it was appropriately heartbreaking, as he was once a reflection of divine light but has since been twisted into the dark, scarred figure we know as Adar. But don't worry, he will eventually become the Adar we know and love.

Pairing: Adar x Former Elf! Reader

Word Count: 2K

______________________________________________________________

The firelight flickered across the cavern walls, casting jagged shadows that danced like specters. The deep, rhythmic chanting of the Uruks filled the air, their voices guttural and raw as they awaited orders. You watched them with disinterest, perched on a ledge high above the throng. The Uruks—Morgoth's twisted creations—were hulking brutes, but they served their purpose. You had no love for them, or anyone, really. Not anymore.

Not after him.

Morgoth had broken you, twisted you into something else—something unrecognizable. You had once been one of the first elves, a scout with sharp instincts and quick feet, but those days were long gone. Now, you were something far darker. He had seduced you, dragged you into his grasp with promises of power and freedom from the suffocating light of the Valar. You had followed, willingly at first, and then... not. The torture had come later. And with it, madness. Or perhaps that had been in you all along. It was difficult to tell after all this time. 

The others—your former kin—wouldn't understand. They had all been too blind to see what you saw. That the world was nothing but chaos, and that chaos was freedom.

"Still watching from the shadows, I see."

The voice cut through your thoughts like a blade, low and cold, and you tensed instinctively. You hadn’t heard him approach, which was rare. You prided yourself on knowing when someone was near.

You turned your head slowly and saw him standing at the mouth of the cave, his form half-draped in shadow, though his presence was undeniable. His face was gaunt, as if he hadn’t slept in years, and his dark hair hung in wild strands around his shoulders. His eyes, though, were sharp, penetrating—too sharp for your liking. He didn’t look like the other elves anymore, either.

Eruviel.

You’d heard whispers of him. He worked closely with the Uruks, overseeing them like a father would unruly children. It made his name all the more ironic- "Soul of Creation" Though, from what you’d seen, he was far too invested for something you knew Sauron saw as battle fodder.

His presence unsettled you. There was something about him—something that mirrored the darkness inside you, the thing Morgoth had planted and Sauron had cultivated.

“I prefer the shadows,” you said, your voice dry. “People tend to forget you, lost in the shadows.”

His eyes narrowed at that, and he took a step into the cave, toward you. “Morgoth values those who act, not those who hide.”

You grinned, though there was little humor in it. “Morgoth values power. Chaos is power. That is what I bring.”

It was true. Your methods were... erratic, unpredictable. You acted on instinct, on the whim of the moment. Some said you were mad. They were right.

Eruviel said nothing at first, merely observing you with that cold, calculating gaze. You hated it. You hated being looked at like you were something to be figured out. A puzzle to be solved. You didn’t need anyone looking that closely, leastwise the father of Uruks. 

“So,” you said, hopping down from the ledge with a fluid grace that belied the tension in your limbs, “they have sent you to oversee the Uruks, then? I heard you were a great battle advisor. I thought child rearing below your station.” Your words were pointed, meant to provoke, but Eruviel’s face remained impassive.

“I do what is required,” he said evenly. “As do you.”

“Do I?” You took a step closer, feeling the wild energy crackle beneath your skin. It was always there, just below the surface, threatening to erupt. “And what exactly is it you think I’m required to do?”

His eyes flickered, something almost imperceptible passing behind them. “To serve Morgoth. As we all do.”

You barked a laugh at that, the sound harsh in the quiet cave. “Serve? Is that what you call it?”

His jaw tightened, but still, he did not rise to your bait. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to serve him.”

The truth of it stung. You had wanted this, hadn’t you? The power, the freedom? You’d chosen Morgoth’s path willingly, but somewhere along the way, it had twisted into something darker than you’d expected.

Your grin faded, replaced by something colder, more bitter. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment to let the chaos consume me.”

Eruviel’s expression remained unreadable, but you could see the tension in his frame. He didn’t trust you—good. You didn’t trust him either.

“Do what you will,” he said after a long pause, his voice softer now. “But know that Morgoth doesn’t forget. He doesn’t forgive.”

You snorted. “Who needs forgiveness?”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with unspoken things, heavy with the weight of your shared darkness. You could see it in him, the same scars Morgoth had left on you—on your mind, your soul. Eruviel had been broken too, though in a different way.

“You’re reckless,” he said finally, his voice almost thoughtful. “But not without purpose.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Are you studying me now?”

“Only observing.”

You let out a sharp breath, pacing a few steps away from him. “You’ll find nothing worth observing. I do what I want, when I want. There’s no plan, no strategy.” Your words were laced with bitterness, and something else—a twisted sort of pride.

“Perhaps,” he said, watching you carefully. “But you’re still here. That means something.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder at him. “And what do you think it means?”

Eruviel didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost contemplative. “That you’re searching for something. Even if you don’t know what.”

The words unsettled you, striking a chord you hadn’t expected. You turned fully to face him, eyes narrowing. “And what about you, Eruviel? What are you searching for?”

He didn’t answer, not directly. Instead, he looked away, his gaze drifting toward the Uruks below, who were now moving in tight, disciplined formations under his orders. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Redemption.”

It was such a soft word, so fragile, and it startled you to hear it from him. You hadn’t thought there was anything soft left in either of you.

Redemption? You didn’t believe in such things. You believed in chaos, in destruction, in power. But you didn’t argue with him. Not now. There was something about him that felt... familiar, in a way that was both comforting and unsettling.

You didn’t trust it. You didn’t trust him.

But you didn’t leave, either.

And that, perhaps, was more telling than anything you could have said.

As you fell into step beside Eruviel, the silence stretched between you, thick with tension. Neither of you spoke, both unwilling to break whatever strange, unspoken accord had settled in the wake of your bitter exchange. The rhythm of the Uruks marching below became a distant hum, and for a fleeting moment, it almost felt as if you were back in the time before—before Morgoth had dragged you both into his orbit.

But it wasn’t long before the stillness was shattered by a sensation you had learned to fear more than any sound.

A pressure began to pulse at the back of your mind, like a hand squeezing tightly around your thoughts. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The cold, dark presence of him—Morgoth—was unmistakable, like a shadow consuming all light.

Eruviel, too, stilled, his eyes darting to yours. He felt it as well. You knew that he did.

“Go,” he murmured, his voice flat. There was no sympathy there, no concern, only the hardened acceptance of one who had also been summoned countless times before. "He is waiting."

Your skin prickled, and you felt your control slipping, the madness simmering beneath your surface rising to meet the command. You hated how quickly Morgoth could strip you of your autonomy, how his mere will could bend yours. Your lips curled back in a snarl, but you turned on your heel, not sparing Adar another glance.

The cavern grew darker as you moved deeper into its labyrinthine passages, where Morgoth held court. His presence pressed down upon the earth itself here, warping the very stones with his malice. The air grew colder the closer you got to the center, until you were nearly breathless from the oppressive atmosphere.

And then you were there, standing before the vast, empty chamber where his form lurked in the deepest shadows. In the dim light of the chamber, Morgoth’s form seemed almost radiant, like a fallen star given shape. His face, framed by silken hair darker than the void, was ethereal—carved by some divine hand that belied none of the cruelty he wielded. His skin, impossibly smooth and pale, gleamed faintly as if lit from within. Every feature of his was too perfect, too exquisite to belong to the master of such horrors.

When his eyes met yours, they were not the burning pits of malice, like you had been warned of since you were a child—they were clear, crystalline, like the deepest pools of untouched water. They held no rage, no fire, only a terrifying stillness, as if nothing inside him had ever been touched by warmth. It was this cold beauty, this haunting perfection, that made your blood chill.

He was not the monster you had once envisioned in your mind, grotesque and twisted by his power. No, Morgoth was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him. His allure was suffocating, an inescapable magnetism that drew you in even as every instinct warned you to turn away.

But you couldn’t.

You could never look away from him.

"My servant," Morgoth’s voice rumbled, soft yet echoing with the force of an avalanche, and his words wrapped around you like silken chains. The beauty of his form only made the terror underneath it more unbearable. It was both terrifying and intoxicating, every word sinking into your bones, demanding obedience.

You dropped to one knee, bowing your head. It was a reflex more than anything. The act of defiance earlier with Adar had already drained your rebellious energy, and now you felt the weight of Morgoth’s will bearing down on you like a tidal wave.

“I have a task for you,” Morgoth continued, his voice sliding across your senses like ice. “The elves move against me, gathering in secret. They think they can hide from me, but they cannot.”

Your heart quickened at the mention of the elves. The remnants of your old life stirred, long-buried memories of kinship and light. But that was a lifetime ago. You no longer belonged to them.

“I need eyes on their movements. Go to their strongholds, their camps—see what you can find. They are clever, but you are cleverer still.”

You lifted your head slightly, looking into the shadowed void where his voice emanated. "What would you have me do, my lord? Gather intelligence, sabotage—"

"No." Morgoth’s voice cut through your words with finality. "You are not to engage. Not until you have something to report. You will bring their secrets to me when you know they are prepared to act against me. But do not return until you have news to report. Do not fail me."

The threat in his voice was unmistakable, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You had seen what happened to those who failed Morgoth. Torture was not just a tool for him; it was a form of entertainment.

“As you command,” you said through gritted teeth, lowering your head again.

There was no response. Only the heavy silence that signaled you had been dismissed. You rose slowly, your body tense, and turned to leave the chamber. The weight of the task ahead pressed down on you, and for a brief moment, the madness within you threatened to spill over.

But you swallowed it down, tamping it deep inside. You would complete this mission—if only to avoid Morgoth’s wrath. But even as you walked back toward the entrance of the cave, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching you—dark, predatory eyes that had always been drawn to your chaotic energy.

Eruviel's eyes.

You weren’t sure whether you hoped to see him again, or feared it.

Either way, the first step toward the elves had already been taken. You would walk the path Morgoth laid before you, for now.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Acid Fog

Wolds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: You take the chance to bond with a new friend when the acid fog rolls in, inevitably trapping you with Bucky for several hours. Bucky has to learn the hard way, that he won't get rid of you that easily.

a/n: I'm not dead. I just have so much to do. But you best believe, once I finally finished my papers, I will work on all the stories that are already outlined in my drafts 💚 please bear with me until then...

not prooread - will do so soon

word count: 2.6k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death, dystopia, deadly fog, reader is lonely, Bucky is lonely - they're gonna be lonely together, worried CatDad!Bucky, strangers to friends (for now)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 13th 2039

Hey, Book.

I’ve decided that Bucky needs a friend, so I’m going to visit him today.

Finding the handsome not-so-anymore stranger was a challenge. But you loved challenges. It mixed up the day, made things less boring, and was a nice way to spend your time.

You had planned things perfectly. You had enough time until the next acid fog would roll through, grabbed one of the canned soups that were rarely found anymore - but you’d gladly sacrifice them for a new friend, and you had a backpack ready with some essentials in case you wouldn’t make it home in time. 

You first headed in the direction Bucky took off to the other day after falling into your trap. There wasn’t much to “detour around” where you lived and chances of him being fairly close - considering being too far from shelter was a certain death sentence - gave you confidence with that approach. 

You walked for about two hours until the tree line faded into blotchy scatters of green. There was a house - or rather ruins of one - sitting by the edge of the forest. You frowned. Bucky wasn’t stupid. At least he didn’t seem that way. He would never hide above ground. Every decent survivor that had lived up to this point knew ‘low was the go’. The chances of being killed were cut to 20% when you lived secluded and underground - the beach was good too apparently, but you were too far to see for yourself. 

Your eyes swayed to the ground. You had a feeling Bucky was here, you just needed to find out where exactly. So you approached the ruins and stepped through what was left of the doorway. Dust and dirt covered the surfaces, ripped cushioned sofas, and scratched hardwood floors. There wasn’t much left to use here. The place was looted and brittle with holes in the ceilings and missing steps. You wondered how you ever recognized it as a house in the first place - because, really, this was anything but. The bones barely held up the remains and made it seem like an oversized version of a carport. 

It wasn’t long until you had scouted the place and reached the other end of it. Now you were standing on the porch and looking out onto a wild yard that reached into the forest again. You walked down and towards it, searching the area and still feeling as though Bucky was close. He couldn’t have lived any further - it would have been crazy. 

The leaves rustled beneath your feet as you skipped vines and roots peaking from beneath. Your eyes swept the area until they landed on an odd-looking lot of ground. As if the branches were forcefully pulled to cover up a buried something, the vines stretched over a green-grayish ledge. 

Immediately you headed for it. This has got to be it, you thought until you reached an opening into the ground that revealed a heavy-looking bunker door. 

Heck yeah. You knew he wasn’t that stupid - even though he did fall into your trap...

As soon as you opened it and entered, it felt as though you had stepped several decades back. The whole interior seemed to be dipped in sepia. Old furniture crammed into odd places and neatly kept surfaces without dust made it look like an old photograph. 

You walked further, let your hand wander over the spines of the books aligned atop a lonely shelf on the wall. They were Cyril, you guessed, as you watched the golden letters shine when you passed them. Beneath the books and next to a booger green armchair was a record player, aligned with old records of people with excessively gelled hairstyles and tailored suits - ancient. 

But Bucky was nowhere to be found. 

A heavy sigh escaped you as your backpack landed on the ground and you went about scouting the bunker some more. The space wasn’t too big, and Bucky seemed to have accumulated a bunch of treasures there for some time now, so you had plenty of things to discover. Eventually, though, you just fell back into the ugly armchair and tried to start up the record player. 

Bucky’s music wasn’t particularly your go-to, but you wouldn’t complain in a world where music was as rare as a working outlet. After a while, you could even understand why Bucky resided here. It was kind of comforting - homey. Something not many people could call their own in this world.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You shot up, knocking over a couple books and earning a dark glare from the man in the doorway - Bucky. 

You hadn’t even heard him come in. “I... I just wanted to see you,” you explained with an excited smile on your face. "I brought soup!" Your hands pointed towards your backpack.

“You- you broke in!” His boots stomped over to you just as you turned to pick up the pile of paperbacks. 

“Well, it’s not so much breaking in when we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends.” Bucky reached forward and snatched the items from your grasp. He was slightly sweaty, grime covering his forehead, and settled in the harsh frown lines you could only see because he was so close. 

“Yes, we are! You fall into my trap, you are my friend.” You ticked off the points with your fingers just as Bucky threw his hands in the air. 

“You can’t just make up these ridiculous rules.” 

“Or can I?”

“No. We can’t be friends. I don’t even know your name.”

He did have a point there. For a moment you watched as he neatly stacked the Russian books back in their place and then told him your name. 

“What?” He grumbled. 

And you just reiterated the words that you hadn’t said in forever. 

He turned back to you with a poker face. “I don’t like it,” Bucky said so monotonely, it almost seemed like he wanted to tease you. 

“Excuse me?” You weren’t offended, it was hard to make friends nowadays - there was nothing unusual about a person being hesitant at first. 

“It doesn’t fit you. You should be called trouble.“ He still had that dead look on his face and you were starting to think he just didn't know anything else. You wouldn't blame him - seriously.

“See! We are friends you know me!” You chuckled but Bucky just shook his head. 

“I don’t know you,” he whispered with slumped shoulders as he lowered his bag close to yours. Then he took off his hat and ran a hand through his shoulder-long hair. 

Man, he was kind of cute. But that was probably just the loneliness talking, so you shook out of it. 

You opened your arms and sunk back into the chair. “Well lucky for you we have a bunch of time to get to know each other now.”

And Bucky’s eyes widened. “What why?”

“The acid fog is rolling in early this evening.” You looked past him and out the entrance, where a deep gray sky covered most of the view. “I thought you knew... and that’s why you’re so, well, tense.”

“What, no I was just outside it’s-” The brunette turned and you could see his shoulders stiffen when he realized you were right. “Shit.” It was a low mumble that was followed by another nervous swipe through his hair. 

For a man who seemed to be cool, calm, and collected so far, his feet were doing an awful lot of pacing right now. 

“Are you okay?” You were careful to ask. Something was wrong and you didn’t want to risk him exploding. You didn’t know how he would react and a small sadness washed over your chest when you realized that maybe you weren’t as good of friends as you wanted to be. 

“Shut up.” Yup, definitely not the talking type then. 

“Can I help you or is ther-“ You were interrupted by a soft meow sounding over the rumbling of the clouds. 

“Fuck, finally.” Bucky exhaled and knelt down, just to reveal a white fluffy cat tangling in his touch. 

“Uh...There's a cat in your bunker,” you pointed out and Bucky picked his stiffness back up ever so slightly. 

“Her name is Alpine. Touch her and you’re dead.” 

So this was what had this big, broody man’s panties in a twist. He was worried for his pet. That was super adorable, you had to admit. And it charmed you just that much more when you saw the way he cuddled her into his chest before setting her back on the ground. 

“I- Oh.”

As soon as he’d said it, Alpine had sauntered her way to you and rubbed her fluffy white face on your shin. You were just frozen in place - unsure what to do. You wanted to pet her so badly, but who knew what Bucky would do if you so much as moved now. 

“The cat has chosen. Don’t blame me.” You threw your hands in the air when Alpine started to purr and jumped only our lab. Now that she was so close to your face, you noticed that one of her eyes was missing, a darker patch of fur replacing the spot where it should have been, but it just made her that much more charming. 

Bucky glared at you for a good second and then moved to close the bunker in order to keep the deadly air out. And you took the opportunity to finally pet his cat. 

It had only been 20 minutes and Bucky was already regretting his decision not to send you out into the fog. 

First, you had broken into his home. Then you had declared you as friends, to which - for the record - he never agreed to. And then you had stolen Alpine’s attention. That was just the cherry on top of your pile of audacity. 

And though he had been told that he wasn’t a pleasant contemporary, he wouldn’t send people straight to their deaths like that. He was a grump, but he wasn’t cruel. So he settled on quietly sitting in a corner and hoping that you’d eventually grow tired of snooping through his belongings. 

But he still held a grudge. Because he hadn’t planned to spend so much time with anyone, really - except for Alpine, of course - and now he was stuck with you for at least three hours. You had basically forced yourself into his life with that agitating sunshine demeanor of yours and the annoying optimism in every single thing you did. 

You had to be broken, somehow. Nobody could be this happy at the end of the world. Because that’s what this was. The end. The time you had to wait out until you escaped the hell this world had become just to spend an eternity in the actual one. 

Yeah, Bucky believed in heaven and hell. Somebody had to be responsible for idiots like Hydra and he was sure there was an extra special lava pit reserved just for the god complex fogged imbeciles that were responsible for it all going to shit once and for all. 

Bucky huffed at your occasional ‘woahs’ and ‘oohs’ and shrugged off his jacket while you went through more of his things. There was nothing he could do anyway. Tying you up and gagging you until it was over would be incredibly awkward for both of you. So, as long as you didn’t break anything or talk to him, he deemed you safe. 

“Woahhh, that is so cool! Where’d you get that?” You suddenly said, and when he turned, Bucky saw you pointing at his metal arm. 

He looked down, turned it in the yellow gleam of the bunker lamp, and then focused on your face again. People had seen a lot these days, though none of them ever asked him about it. They either stayed silent or avoided him altogether - the latter of which he preferred. He didn't like talking about it. It wasn’t anything he was proud of for that matter.

“Nonya,” he grumbled and sat back in the chair he chose to reside in for the rest of the day. 

“What’s Nonya?” Your head cocked to the side and Bucky couldn’t help but crack a small smirk.

“Non ya business.”

And finally, you shut up. He exhaled, closed his eyes, and smiled complacently. However the silence didn’t last long. 

“Okay that was a good one but really, where did you get that arm - it’s amazing.”

“It’s not amazing and I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Now do me a favor and shut up before I set you outside”

“You wouldn’t dare. After all, I was the one that helped you out of that trap.”

Buck had already established that he wouldn’t. But the thought seemed ever so intriguing right this second. 

“That you built,” he deadpanned. “I’m done talking to you. Just be quiet for the next hour, so we both have a chance at surviving this thing.” Before I murder you or myself.  That last part only echoed in his mind before he grabbed a book and hoped deeply that you’d comply. 

You huffed and slumped in the chair next to him. Bucky only dared to glance at you once. Then he began reading, enjoying the silence you finally granted him. 

You watched Bucky read his book. Fascinated by the shapes on the page that didn't look like letters to you, you leaned over to him. Bucky was skimming the pages swiftly, turning pages before you could even look at all the lines and then starting all over again. 

When you leaned in a little too closely, he scooted back and hid the page from you with a glare. So, you stood up and sauntered over to the shelf again, tracing the printed covers with your finger. 

“They’re all in Russian,” you pointed out after you had grazed the last spine. Most of the books were bound in brown, grey, or red. 

“So?” He just shrugged, not even bothering to look at you.

“Do you know Russian?”

“The guy that lived here first was Russian.” He shut the book finally, tracing the cover with his own fingers. “So, I taught myself.”

“You know, I can get you some normal books. I can’t imagine there’s anything interesting in there.” You stared at the Russian flag on most of the books. They looked like government-issued prints. Nothing like a fun novel or romance book.

“I don’t mind them, really...” Bucky set the book down and stood next to you. Then he scratched his stubble with his flesh hand. “Though, they all have a communistic touch.”

“See!” You pointed at him. “What do you like to read? I’ve got it all. Romance, fantasy, sci-fi.”

“No sci-fi please.” Bucky rolled his eyes and you could only imagine why. You’d had enough of it in the real world, so the sci-fi book you had once acquired during one of your town walks hat sat in the corner of your little home untouched.

“So, you’re not opposed to romance?” Your eyebrows raised suggestively only for Bucky to glare at you again.

Bucky huffed and sat back down. “Forget it. I'll read my Russian books.”

You chuckled and threw your hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Fantasy it is.” And then you settled in next to him staring at the ceiling with a small smile and a giddy feeling in your chest. 

“See..,” you whispered, “I knew we would get along eventually.”

**Bonus

“Buckstar… Starbucks… Buck-”

“What are you doing?”

“I think it's only fair that if you give me a nickname, I can have one for you, too. How does Bucky-Buck sound?”

“No”

“Buckaroo.”

“Do I need to throw you out? Cause I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I thought I already had.”

"Good point… get out.”

“I can’t, the Fogg’s about to come!”

“Well, then I suggest you hurry your ass up, so it can’t kill you before I do.”

„I know you might not try to be, but you are very funny.“

*huffs in frustration*

Hey, Book,

Bucky's not that lonely anymore.

more…

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[smolstarthief]

"I hope y'know what you got yourself into... Because there's no going back now..." "I know P̶̖̘̺̲̼̀̅̎̚L̸͇̣̯̩̑̽E̷̩͕͉̐̃͛̓N̷̹͇̎͋͑̾T̸̨͕͍̖̟̆̂̽Y̵͙̭͚̬͍̽̄͌..."

A quick Aesthetic board for my own take on an Overlord!Husk AU but Alastor loses his own soul along with the ones in his possession to Husk during that fateful card game!

The working name is "Ace of Spades" AU. The name coming from the apparent fact that this particular card in Cartomancy (a form of divination/fortune telling that utilizes playing cards as opposed to tarot cards) generally means a new beginning or new ideas.

I feel like it would fit the general idea and direction I want to take these two! That and Al's card in the flashback in episode 4 was a King of Spades so it's good irony for him and his fall from grace!

Now I guess the basic idea for their characterizations is...

Husk

Now my idea for Husk when he was an Overlord has changed from time to time admittedly. So far it's mostly cold and occasionally ruthless to those that cross him but he does show respect to those that earn it. He can show a smug side while gambling though complete with snark and dry humor. Kinda going off of his, "I lost the ability to love years ago" quote from the Pilot. Once you get underneath all of the potential armor he puts up, he can be sweet and is respectful of consent among other things. He considers beating Alastor in the game to be quite an achievement and more or less initially just treated him like such. He doesn't do anything heinous, just acts indifferent and tries to ignore Alastor's taunts and insults. He does find the demon's fighting nature to be intriguing and even refreshing. He develops an attachment later on which he doesn't realize until he was barely able to beat Vox in a match for Alastor's soul one night.

Alastor

Alastor is largely the same as canon more or less. He does not take the loss well at all and would frequently act defiant towards Husk, not understanding why he keeps him around anyhow besides a potential trophy for him to parade around. He's given all the necessities and some form of luxury (a fancy room of his own, his radio tower being implemented into the casino, the whole nine yards) and yet he hardly yields. He does know that laying low is the better option however, as much as he hates it. So he plays along with whatever gets asked of him. Advertising with his radio show, dealing, muscle, scouting out for fresh souls, you name it. He's practically a Wild Card for Husk. Despite his initial misgivings and plans of voiding the contract somehow, he notices that Husk isn't exactly bad company. Especially when they're alone with a drink or two. His soul is obviously not bound to anyone by the time he meets Husk in this AU.

Phew! Yeah that was a lot more than I thought... Huh. I'll definitely consider this for a future project! This IS a RadioHusk/HuskRadio AU so... There be something that develops between them and I maaaay have this AU transition into the events of the show too. How? I'll try to figure it out along the way. ^_^

I'm not super sure how the deal would be sealed since people have commonly had Husk seal it with a gold ring with the HuskerDust AUs but I'll think about it there too. We'll get there when we get there.

[thepaintedsable]

My sketchbook is a mess. Everything is one good sneeze from flying away. ANYWAYS TF2 YAY YIPPEEE!!!

I made them animals because it brings be joy and also I couldn’t get fake lizard Pyro out of my head and that obviously meant he needed a whole team to match.

I’d like to think that reptiles are just normal animals in whatever world this is, so Pyro is fooling nobody and is also extremely scary. Why are you so tall, lizard boy? Stop that.

Also coyote Spy and coydog Scout. These two are very not related as you can clearly tell. Not one bit of resemblance whatsoever no sir.

“Skink” Pyro, Coyote Spy, Coydog Scout, Kangaroo Sniper, Stoat Medic, Bear Heavy, Mule Soldier, and Ram Demo.

Pyro was the most obvious to me. I may or may not have chosen my favorite lizard just because they are both very cool and extremely elusive to me. I know nothing about these guys (I could fix this, but I don’t) yet I smile every time I see one. They’re just silly. 5 banded because of the fun coloration!

Coyote Spy and Coydog Scout go hand in hand in terms of choice, here. I wanted a wild-type animal for Spy and some sort of mix for Scout, preferably something that could be written off but is way too coincidental when they’re next to each other lmfao. I really liked the Zorse/Zebra idea but I felt like I couldn’t have that with Mule Soldier.

Sniper is only a Kangaroo because I can’t draw a kea or a kākāpō. I will continue to figure out how to draw a kea and/or a kākāpō and also shape it properly to Snipers long face, so help me god. They’re birds native to New Zealand (Sniper was born in New Zealand), threatened to critically endangered (Sniper is, very technically in TF2, one of the last New Zealanders alive if you think about it), and he stuck out compared to his folks in Australia. Also I think he should have the right to dismantle a car (Keas are very smart :) )

STOAT MEDIC!!!! Or honestly any weasel, ferret, or martin. They are sneaky, intelligent hunters, and generally spook me. That there is a snake with fur and also has managed to take our multiple populations in multiple areas because we keep putting them places. I think a weasel would steal souls.

Bear Heavy.

Mule Soldier! The US Army mascot is a Mule, and considering how military-crazed soldier is I think it was a good fit. Coulda also done a bulldog, but his name is “soldier” not “marine”.

And Demo still needs some work because I am not at all happy with his design! Yippee!

[casualaruanienjoyer]

Flowers

"Yes, this one will do..." Armin mutters to himself as a gentle gust of wind ruffles his hair over his face.

It's early morning, the sun is lazily gliding up the horizon and there's no clouds on the sky. It's the perfect day for Armin to be off cadet duty. The perfect day for him to be out in the field.

But being off duty today doesn't mean he's not on a mission.

"This one too, for sure!"

He looks down at the small pile he's been delicately building by his side and adds yet another one on top.

Flowers. Wild flowers.

Bundles of striking colours and intricate shapes. Poppies, bluebells, daisies, buttercups... the list goes on.

He's been out and about for 30 minutes now, scouting the field for anything that catches his eyes. Anything that reminds him of-

"Aha! You, little one, are coming with me!" He reaches out for a bundle of Forget-me-nots.

He gazes at the beautiful blue petals. Blue like the ocean that he dreams of seeing one day. Blue like the sky above on a beautiful sunny day. Blue like her-

"This. She'll love this" he whispers so quietly, as though it was a secret only between him and the flowers he's turning between his fingers.

Armin reaches out for the rest of the blossoms he'd gathered, but his eyes jump to his watch.

He stands abruptly.

"Shoot! I'm going to be late!"

He starts running back towards the camp, flowers in one hand while the other reaches for some loose string in his cardigan pocket.

He tries his best not to trip while he wraps the delicate string around the flower stems, bringing them all together with a small bow.

"Perfect!"

Armin makes a mental note to thank Mikasa for teaching him how to twist, braid and knot string. He never knew it would come in handy one day.

He admires his work, turning the bouquet from side to side to fix any stray leaves, and for a second he forgets to check his steps.

"Whoa-!!"

Armin suddenly slips, losing his footing for just a second. He rapidly slides downhill towards one of the cadet cabins, though his arm stretches out just in time to stop him from running right into the wooden wall. He stops with a light 'thud'.

"That was... too close..."

He's never usually this reckless, but today he's on a mission. And he absolutely cannot be late because-

"Um...?"

Armin freezes.

He'd reached his destination either too late, or too loudly and now-

"What are you doing here... exactly?"

Now, she's here.

"Uhh..." for a moment he doesn't lift his head to meet the presence peeking out through the window above. The window he already knows too well. The same window that he's been visiting early in the morning for some time now. The window that belongs to-

"A-annie! Good morning!" he does his best to hide the flowers behind his back, laughing awkwardly.

But when he finally lifts his eyes to meet hers he can't help but blush. She's... well. A bit of a mess.

Her hair sticks up in several places, her signature tight bun is absent, replaced by waves of hair that reach just past her shoulders. She has dark circles under her eyes, darker than usual. Her gaze is sleepy and she squints her eyes as if to see him better.

Then she yawns. Annie's just woken up.

Shit.

Shit!

He's just a little too late. If only he woke up earlier himself, he wouldn't have ended up in this position. He wouldn't have had to find an excuse to be-

"Snooping around the girl dorms, Armin?"

"What!? No, that's not-!"

There's a pause. Armin's thoughts are racing, trying to find a way out of this.

When she lifts an eyebrow at him, he can't tell if she's annoyed or amused by this encounter.

It certainly doesn't help that she's so... so...close to him.

He's standing at eye level with the window sill, doing his best to look anywhere else but at her slightly open shirt and the blonde locks of hair tickling her neck. He curses his eyes for wandering.

"Well...?"

Armin's eyes land on her lips as she speaks and the redness of his cheeks instantly travels down his neck.

Shit.

There's no way out of this.

"I-I um..." he starts, clearing his throat. "I guess there's no point in hiding it." He straightens his back, taking a deep breath. He gathers all his confidence to steady himself.

"Here"

Armin pulls the bouquet from behind his back, lifting it up in the air. His fingers are a sweaty mess around the stems and his arms are shaking ever so slightly.

But despite his body language, his expression remains determined when he meets Annie's eyes.

Her beautiful blue eyes.

"They reminded me of you."

(The Aruani fic gods were with me tonight, I hope you liked this!! AAAAA. Now up on AO3 as well!)

(Also dedicated to @annawayne who encouraged me to write this fic based on a Cadet Aruani post I made not long ago. Thank you 🥺🙏)

[yandereunsolved]

.ೃ࿐ Yandere Ravio .ೃ࿐

"Oh, you are finally awake! Good. I was starting to worry about you, my treasure."

"Ravio?"

"Yes! It is I the traveling merchant. Legend must have told you about me."

He told me everything about you. I just got so interested. I had to collect a one of a kind treasure like you.

"He did. What happened to me? I was in grabbing a map for him and suddenly I blacked out."

I feel so bad for lying to both you and Legend. He'll think you've left The Chain of your own accord. You'll really just be with me for all eternity. My most precious item.

"Um— I found you passed out. Alone. Strange if you ask me. I brought you back to my shop so you wouldn't get attacked by any dangerous monsters in the wilds!"

"That is strange. No one was near me? None of The Chain? I was near our camp. I know they were scouting, but I thought they would have found me."

Heh, yeah. It's a good thing that I know how to slip past their defenses.

"Nope, nada noth— Wait! Don't leave quite yet."

"I have to go find them. What if they are in trouble?"

I took the liberty of bringing you all the way here, and you want to leave now. It looks like I'll have to readjust my plans. I wouldn't want my precious jewel to be owned by anyone else.

"Here—take this. For good luck on your journey back."

"Your bracelet? Oh, Legend told me how special it is to you. Thank you."

It's the perfect gift. You'll take great care of it, I know. It'll make it even easier to track. I've stored some of my magic in it so I can just take you whenever I please and transport myself right behind you with lavish gifts. It'll be the perfect courting method! Perhaps this kidnapping thing worked out better than I expected.

[pincushionx]

Been seeing some discussion on Hunter’s kill count so let me throw in my interpretation

…

Hunter isn’t some cold blooded killer. In fact in the show we see him avoid doing any messy work. Like having the owl gang try to kill the selkidomous or letting Luz and the Palismen go. Or the fact that during the fight with Amity he never did anything to imply he was trying to kill her, he didn’t even try restraining her. He just was trying to snatch the key and leave the entire fight. If anything, it was Amity pulling out the hurting and restraining moves lol.

But rather where I think there is violence was because of the inherent nature of the two missions. Mission 1 was him trying to kill the selkidomous, the only reason that didn’t happen was because there was people there to do it for him (even if they didn’t). So that makes me wonder, where there other beats killing missions he had to do? I’d imagine so, and I guarantee he didn’t have anyone to the work for him those times. So there’s that, Hunter killing some beasts.

Mission 2 was the palismen , and also before the mission we see him handing a palismen to Belos. So yeah, dude has probably taken ownerless palismen in the past, and has given palismen to Belos to kill and eat so theirs that. I don’t think he’s directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of palismen but numbers do add up.

Also another thing I want to mention is direct responsibility, I’d imagine a lot of the violence or deaths caused by Hunter weren’t directly from him but the consequences of his job.

Now next is where we can be a bit imaginative, I pretty sure it’s stated in the show that Hunter only goes on missions on the weekends. So dude is pretty much just hanging out in the castle in the weekdays. That means he was probably doing paperwork, and considering he’s a coven head, he has a lot of power. So on the weekends rather than him going on missions, he was sending out scouts. That means anything that the scouts did, that he may have sent was also partially his responsibility. So if the scouts where to arrest, or kill any witches, then Hunter would likely feel at minimum partially responsible (I feel like he’d feel incredibly guilty as if he directly killed them)

Now for the actual mission, obviously he’s likely captured wild witches. While he was shown to struggle a bit but learn and adapt with palismen magic. When we see him with his artificial staff, he’s highly skilled with it. He fought pretty calmly with Luz and Eda at the shores and can travel a high speeds with it. I’d be more amazed if he didn’t manage to arrest anyone. Anyways, so here’s Hunter, he’s arrested some wild witches and he’s proud of himself. He takes them to the conformatium, he thinks that’s the end of it only for those witches to be privately petrified. We know that public petrifications hadn’t happened in 30 years but we see that they still happen in private.

It’s a bit dubious if we know if Hunter knew of these petrifications or not, much less arresting witches knowing they’re going to be petrified. But I think he possibly may have considering in Hollow mind he excuses those death of the sigil witches as just Belos perfecting sigil magic and literal terrorism for the greater good.

That’s where I think a kill count comes to play, that Hunter arrested wild witches knowing there may have been a possible chance of them dying. Therefore making him a factor for death. (Not to confuse with cause of death)

Another idea is him accidentally killing, like using too much force or miscalculating a spell. Another idea is killing in self defense. Assassinations aren’t much of a surprise in the castle so I don’t doubt there’s a chance that he may have killed an assassin or someone trying to cause bodily harm on him. Again a situation of a fight with a wild witch going too far. I don’t doubt a wild witch willing to fight Hunter to death knowing it was likely he was going to arrest them and lead them to a possible death.

One more, a messed up one but one that isn’t too out of character is having Belos having Hunter test his loyalty by being able to kill for him. Or Belos having Hunter kill someone in the privacy of the castle, like a traitor coven member (I doubt Raine and the Cats are the first to attempt a infiltration) Hence, where the context I was thinking of for this drawing actually comes from. (“May Titan have mercy on you”).

Again this is me just counting deaths and not any other potential violence he may have committed (not resulting in deaths. Even if someone doesn’t die, the violence inflicted upon them could still be life changing. The idea of Hunter giving someone a disability or trauma is pretty sad :( and not even impossible). Hunter in the show is pretty desensitized to violence in the way he talks about it or thinks of it in Any sport in a storm and Hollow mind.

So yeah, that’s my Hunter kill count, a couple if beasts, dozens of palismen and handful of actual witches, my guess 3-6. Could be higher but I’m trying to be a bit more realistic, even if I admittedly want to dramatize it lol.

Anyways that my rambles, anyone have their own thoughts on this?