#Barry The Grounds Keeper

[the-burry-man-of-lavender-town]

(reference photo made by @lazy-charlie)

Name: Barry Shinigami.

Age: 32.

Pronouns: He/Him.

Pokemon: A Gengar named Kiena, and a Ditto named Dirt.

Hometown: Lavender Town.

Occupation: Grounds Keeper/Grave Watcher in Lavender tower.

Story: This is an alternate universe version of the pokemon creepypasta character the Buryman from the Buried Alive Model story.

This takes place in the normal pokemon world.

Barry was kidnapped by some unknown people who wanted something from him an old family heirloom that was worth alot of money, he never got to see their faces due to being blind folded.

Eventually they got fed up and decided to teach him a lesson and if he wouldn't tell them he wasn't worth keeping alive, so they took him to the top of the pokemon tower where an empty grave was currently being prepared.

They proceeded to kick him in the grave and covered him up in dirt he tried to kick and scream but despite his attempts on trying to escape he had no luck and was burried deep in the dirt, and they left him to die.

He was left there for a few days only surviving due to a leak in the ceiling of the tower allowing rain water to drop in keeping him hydrated enough, the fear and the pain from being buried under so much dirt slowly ate away at him.

All he managed todo was get his hand out of the ground and he hoped and preyed someone would save him, and one afternoon the local nurse was visiting the tower at the second highest floor to pay respects to her own deceased pokemon.

When suddenly she saw some of the ghost pokemon in the tower trying to get her attention she was confused wondering what they could want but decided to follow them to the top floor, there she saw Barry's hand sticking out of the ground.

She panicked and quickly ran up checking his plus he was still alive but barely she quickly used a shovel and carefully undug him he was in a horrible state and was practically starving, she fully got him out of that grave and rushed him to the pokecenter doing what she could with the supplies they had on hand.

She made a few phone calls and he was taken to a proper hospital near by and over the course of a few months was finally nursed back to as best of health as they could get him, This incident however left him with scars on his body and on his mind not to mention left him permeantly paralyzed from the waist down from the intense pressure from the dirt. He also could only see out of one eye by this point as well.

He was soon allowed to return home but due to his mental state and the fact he lived alone they took him to a daycare where they had trained therapy pokemon, none of them really caught his eye that is untill a Gengar floated up to him and stuck out it's tongue.

The workers there apologized and tried to get the pokemon away from him but he soon spoke up for the first time since he had woke up saying that he wanted that one, they explained that she was a trouble maker and wasn't fit for service but he refused to pick any other one.

They eventually gave in and agreed to let him take her home after some paper work he was taken home, after the incident he decided to dedicate his life to being the groundskeeper for the tower despite the trauma he had there the ghosts had saved his life and he owed it to them to help take care of them.

Now he watches over the tower and hopes to one day to become a gym leader inside the tower, but is currently content with his current life with his emotional support Gengar he named Kiena and his later adopted ditto named dirt.

Extra Information:

Due to the incident he is now completely wheel chair bound but thanks to Kiena he's able to get around easily. He also speaks in a low raspy voice and often complains about being cold, and has a strange craving for fresh meat but genuinely is a kind man otherwise.

Despite Kiena being a Gengar who are known to be tricksters she remains pretty loyal to him and never pulls any pranks on him and seemingly genuinely loves him as her trainer but dosen't stop her from playing pranks on other people.

He adopted dirt a few weeks after he was sent home and he often just pets the goopy lil fellow sometimes, dirt transforms itself into a strange ghostly white hand but no one not even Barry knows why.

#Pokemon #Pokemon Oc #Pokémon #Pkmn irl #Pokeblr #Pokeblogging #Pokeblog #Pokepasta #Poképasta #Buried Alive Pokemon #Buried Alive Pokémon #the Buryman #Recovery au #Recovery Buryman Au #Barry The Grounds Keeper #lazy-charlie #go check them out they are a fantastic friend and deserve some coms #art #reference photo

[rafesfavgirl]

two graves, one gun — r. cameron

sad rafe fic bc i just got my period and i'm feeling extra emotional :')

series: every few lifetimes

❝ so long, london stitches undone two graves, one gun you'll find someone ❞

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after another night of getting coked out and passing out on barry's couch, rafe realizes you deserve better than him and decides to let you go.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: drug addiction, break-up, might make you cry, ANGSTY asl

the sole of your heel taps anxiously against your living room's hardwood floor, as you stared at the time on your phone's lock screen, which lit up with a photo that wheezie took of you and rafe sitting at one of the tables at midsummers last year, looking at each other as if you were the only people there.

8:30 p.m.

your heart aches at the realization that he had forgotten your date again, but the nerves that settle in your stomach win over, as you think about where he probably is.

pushing your weight off the sofa, you grab your car keys from the hooks on the wall, and dial rafe on your way out the door.

straight to voicemail. fuck.

you skip down the steps in front of your house and unlock your car in the driveway to get in, immediately starting the engine to get on your way.

you dial rafe again as you pull into the road—to no avail.

"damn it, rafe," you mutter, eyes switching between the road and your phone as you type him a message.

you: where are you???

when the message doesn't even go through, you let out a frustrated groan. either his phone's dead or it's switched off. you step on the gas to speed up, zigzagging between cars to get there faster.

you pull to an abrupt stop in front of a beat-down house on the south side, and switch the car off before hopping out.

"mrs. country club, what brings you to this side of the island?" barry stands from the porch when he sees you walking towards him, fuming.

"oh spare me the fake hospitality, barry," you tell him. "where is he?"

"where's who?" he shrugs—but you knew he knew what you were talking about.

"don't play dumb with me," you spat, attempting to walk past him. "i know he's here."

he steps to the side to block you from going any further. "maybe so, but it ain't a pretty sight."

"ugh," you manage to walk past him and proceed into the house, with him on your tail. "rafe!"

barry catches up to you and blocks your way again. "hey, i told you-"

"barry, you're really testing my patience here, alright?" you say, refusing to back down. you weren't scared of him—okay, maybe a little, but you weren't about to let him see that. "rafe!"

you push past barry again, and make your way further inside, immediately rushing to rafe, who was passed out face-down on barry's couch.

"oh my god, rafe!" you crouch down beside him, not missing the un-sniffed lines of coke on the wooden table in front of him, and pick up his head in your hands. "baby, baby," you gently pat his face with your hand. "can you hear me?"

"told you it wasn't a pretty sight," barry leans against a wooden post and watches you, making you roll your eyes.

"rafe," you try to wake him up again. "babe."

thankfully, his eyes flutter open, relief washing over you as you let out a sigh. "oh thank god."

"y/n?" his voice is barely above a whisper when his eyes lock with yours. "shit!"

you move aside when he suddenly sits up, searching the couch cushions for his phone. "what time is it?"

"rafe-"

"no, fuck!" he shouts when he realizes his phone is dead, and looks up at barry. "i told you to wake me up if i knocked out!"

"i'm not your keeper, cameron," barry shrugs. "just take your shit and go, a'ight?"

"baby…" rafe turns to you kneeling on the ground beside him, his voice much softer now. "i swear i set an alarm— i was just— i didn't think my phone would die and-"

"hey," you place your hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly to make him look at you. "don't worry about it. let's just get out of here, okay?"

he nods, and you stand up, dusting yourself off as you do.

"i'll meet you in the car, doll," he tells you. "i just gotta take care of something."

—

the car ride back to your house is almost completely silent, until rafe breaks it.

"you look beautiful, by the way," he says, eyes shifting to you.

you glance at him, a small smile on your lips. "thank you."

"god, i'm such an idiot!" he groans, clearly frustrated with himself over the situation. "how many missed dates is that this month?"

"rafe, i told you not to worry about it," you tell him. "it's okay, i get-"

"y/n," his voice is stern now, his eyes burning holes into your skin. "how many?"

you sigh, turning the wheel towards the curb to park the car in front of your house. "four," you answer, switching the ignition off. "that was the fourth one this month."

rafe scoffs and shakes his head, eyes averting away from you. he just couldn't look at you anymore, because he knew that even if you didn't show it, you were disappointed. not only at him, but maybe even yourself for putting up with him.

"hey," you place a hand on his knee, and he glances down at the gesture, before finally looking at you. "it's okay."

"how is it okay?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing. "all i do is disappoint you."

"baby, that's not true," you try to reassure him, but he doesn't buy it.

"it is true," he tells you. "and you don't deserve it."

not knowing what to say, you just glance down at your hand on his knee. "rafe…"

"no," he cuts you off, and places his hand above yours to slowly push it off of him. "i can't keep doing this to you."

letting out a sigh, you adjust yourself in your seat so you're looking at him. "okay, rafe, before you saying anything else— i love you, alright? there's nothing you can do that-"

"and that's exactly the problem, a'ight?" he snaps. "you're never gonna walk away from me yourself! even when i bought this shit from barry after i told you to wait in the car." he reaches into his pocket and tosses the small bag of blow in between the two of you. your eyes shift from it to him, the uneasiness in your stomach only getting worse.

"i have a problem y/n," he tells you. "and it's not the kind you can just 'fix' with love."

"then we'll get you help. we'll do any-" you try to reach out to him, but he resists.

"no," he says, motioning a hand between you two. "this has to end."

the words you dreaded hearing comes out of his mouth in one fell swoop, your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"what?"

"i'm never gonna be the guy you need me to be," he shakes his head at you, and if it weren't so dark outside, you swear you'd see his eyes watering. "and since you can't let go, i have to do it for you."

tears brim along your lower lashes as you speak, "no. that is not your choice to make."

"god, y/n, can you stop making this harder than it already is?" he pleads.

"can you stop acting like it's so easy?" you retort.

"you think this is easy?" he asks, taken aback by your accusation. "it kills me to do this."

"then don't," you say, voice cracking as you reach out for his hands. "we can work through your addiction together, rafe. we'll-"

"that's not your responsibility," he shakes his head at you. "if i'm gonna get better, i need to do it on my own."

you sob, "i— i don't want this to be the end.”

rafe glances down at your hands, before bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

you lean into his touch, and a single tear rolls down your cheek—one that he wipes away with his thumb.

"i love you so much," he says, eyes closing as his head tilted down against yours. "i'm sorry."

his lips place a soft kiss on your forehead, and just like that, he's gone.

part 2.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #sad rafe #rafe angst #rafe cameron fic #obx fic

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Chaos Monster & Her English Gent (A Callum Turner x Reader Smut)

Warnings: Smut, language, kiddos under 18 do not interact!

Notes: When I said I've become a total slut for this man and his bf Austin I wasn't fucking around. Lemme know if y'all want an Austin smut/sequel because I totes have some ideas I think you'll like.

Looking back I don’t think any of us expected this to happened. I certainly didn’t and I was the one who had the most to lose if things had gone sour rather than go the way they did.

I’m getting ahead of myself though so I’ll just start where this whole mess began: the first time I visited Austin on the Masters of the Air set. I’d sneaked up behind Austin, my best friend for life and possibly longer, as he was talking to a rather handsome man with the most unimaginably contagious smile. I put my finger to my lips once he’d seen me and jumped onto Austin’s back. “’Sup Elvis!”

“PRISCILLA?! FUCK!” Austin turned and scooped me up. “YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA ME BABE!”

I laughed and squeezed him back. “Well that’s what you get for taking for fucking ever to return my texts you ass!”

“Sorry ‘bout that sweetheart but duty called a hell lot more than I thought it would,” he said once I was back on the ground. “Oh,” he turned back to the smiling man. “By the way, Callum this is my best girl, Y/N, Y/N this is my new best friend Callum.”

“Nice to meet you my handsome replacement,” I said.

Callum smiled nearly bringing out a giggle from deep inside me. Fuck, he is good. “Pleasure’s all mine love, and I am definitely not replacing you. You’re more beautiful than I will ever be.”

Struck dumb by his buttery smooth British accent and killer icebreaker I turned to Austin. “He is a hell of a keeper.”

“Yeah I think so too,” Austin laughed. “So how long are you staying?”

“I’ve taken a week off work so I’m gonna be yours until about Sunday,” I said.

“Oh sweet. Can’t wait to show you off to the rest of the boys, they’re gonna love you,” Austin said as we started towards a couple other guys in period attire.

“Only until they get to know me,” I said. “Let’s see how they react once they see the true chaos monster you know and love.”

“Well, this is gonna be a right interesting week,” Callum said walking on the other side of me.

Of course he wasn’t wrong about that. The next few days were filled with me and Austin being a chaotic duo in front of his cast mates who were also quite chaotic themselves. I’m not sure how or when it started happening but whenever Austin was away either in costume or make-up, Callum and I started to talk. Barry would sometimes be there but most of the time it was just us.

“I’m really gonna miss having you around,” Callum said two days before I was due to leave. We were in his trailer. Austin was busy talking with his manager so I figured I’d bug Callum for a bit. He was changing out of his costume and into civilian wear while I hung out in his make up chair.

“You act as if you don’t have my number and social medias,” I said. “I’m heading home, not dying.”

“Well, talking with you on a phone or in DM’s isn’t exactly the same as having you here,” Callum continued.

“What can you possibly say that can’t be said over the phone?”

“It’s not what I wish to say but rather what I wish to do that can’t be done over a phone call,” he said starting towards me wearing nothing but his boxer briefs which left little to nothing to the imagination.

“And what exactly is it that you wish to do good sir?”

He smirked and started leaning down. “This,” his lips connected with mine. His plump lips were soft and warm as he kissed me. It wasn’t enough to send me off the edge and before I knew it I had my arms around him letting him carry me to the small couch. Once there he pulled back and brought his lips down to my neck. As he left what I was sure was gonna be a massive hickey I reached down and started palming him through his underwear. He groaned at the feeling, his body trembling on top of mine.

“I’m a bit overdressed don’t you think?” I breathed. He smiled and sat up. I reached down and lifted my shirt over my head. He took it from me and tossed it to the side before reaching for the zipper and button on my pants. Not even a minute later I was fully bare in front of him.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered pecking me on the mouth. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” As he started to kiss me again I nudged at his briefs, doing my best to get them off. Callum got the hint though and pulled them off tossing them with my clothes. I think he could see how big my eyes got at the sight of him for he chuckled softly and said, “Like what you see, darling?”

I had no idea how to answer. If I’d though he was big when flaccid it was nothing compared to how endowed he was when he was hard.

I looked from his crotch up to his face as he continued to look at me quizzically with that smile that didn’t seem to go away. “C’mere,” I said moving from the couch to the floor beside it. He laid himself on top of me sending a shiver through me as his dick brushed my folds, ghosting my entrance. He reached down, gave himself a tug and placed himself there.

“Okay, love?” he asked. I nodded and just like that he was inside me. I clung to him as my body got use to the stretch. Callum cussed a rainbow of curse words in my ear as I enveloped him. His thrusting began soon after.

Turns out Callum is a gentleman in every sense of the word. He kept his movements slow at first, not daring to go faster or harder without my say so. Once the stinging subsided I brought my mouth to his, kissing him harder before telling him, “Harder… I need you to go harder.” With that he picked up the pace, almost slamming completely into me. “FUCK!”

“You’re taking me so well darling, fuck!!” He took me into his arms and slowly lifted me up, still thrusting into me. I held onto him moving up and down as he sat back. I rode him like that for a while until he lied completely back, putting me in charge for a bit.

As I moved my body conscious of the fact that I could see a small bump pulsating in my lower stomach, Callum reached down and started rubbing me with his long fingers. I bit back a scream at the feeling but let him keep playing with clit. It made me feel alive in a way I couldn’t put into words and before I knew it I was riding him like my life depended on it.

We continued like that until I began to feel the pressure build up inside me. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“It’s alright, darling, just...just let go on my cock,” he said grabbing my ass and slamming me harder on his length. The pressure continued to grow more intense, until finally I was screaming and tightening around him. As I remained clamped down on his length Callum wrapped his arms around me and flipped us back over so that he was on top.

He continued to thrust as I came down from the most mind boggling orgasm of my life. I was still seeing stars when Callum’s thrusts became sloppy. Suddenly the gentle boy I’d been falling for became beastly, almost roaring as he twitched inside me, filling me up until there wasn’t a single drop left in him.

My body was still shaking, my cunt throbbing, as he pulled out and collapsed beside me.

“That was… incredible...magical even…”

“It was the best damn shag of my life,” Callum said breathless making me giggle. I turned my body to face him and cringed at the soreness between my legs. “You alright love?”

“Mentally and emotionally speaking I’m fucking great,” I said. “Physically speaking...fuck… Callum, I love you with every fiber of my being and will gladly do this again and again with you but god damn I think you just about broke me in half.”

He laughed at that and kissed my now swollen lips. “So, you agree then? To be my girlfriend I mean.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m pretty sure I’m more than that. I mean, I did just say I love you, and lord knows those are words I don’t say to just anybody.”

“Just to the lad who shags your brains out?” I slapped him playfully on his chest. “Only joking darling. I love you too, and I don’t say those words to just anybody either.”

“Just to the girl that rode you and milked you for every last drop of cum in your body?”

“Actually, I believe I just said them to the girl I want to marry.”

“Quite the fast one aren’t you?”

“Only when I know deep down in my bloody heart and bones that I don’t want to do this with anyone else,” he said.

“Alright, but there’s something we gotta do first… Something pretty damn risky.” He looked at me questioningly.

“And that is?”

I looked up and smiled nervously. “We gotta tell Austin.”

“OH FUCK!”

#callum turner #smut #callum turner x reader #austin butler

[backtothestart02]

We Met on a Train - 7/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: I integrated this song into this chap, b/c I'm obsessed w/ this version of Cinderella lately, and it's been stuck in my head! Enjoy! lol.

...

Chapter 7 -

Barry and Iris shared a look. Barry could see Iris silently panicking that they hadn’t even discussed a meeting before joining everyone else that would’ve taken place at the very least months prior, other than just a few days ago. Unlike Iris, who knew very little about Barry up until this point though, Barry had learned a lot about Iris, and he felt confident about how to proceed.

And it had nothing to do with either of them.

“How about you tell us how you guys know each other first?” Barry asked, directing his question to his mother with a brief glance to the West’s.

Nora’s jaw was on the floor, so Henry took the lead, patting his wife’s hand.

“Your mother bumped into Joe at the grocery store. There was uh…a bit of an incident with-

“Dropping a watermelon on the floor,” Joe and Nora finished simultaneously, chuckling a bit.

Barry and Iris raised their eyebrows, amused.

“And then we bumped into each other again, do you remember?” Nora asked Joe.

“Ah, yes, I had too many bags in my hands, and your mother graciously opened the door for me and picked up a couple of the bags that had fallen to the ground on my way to the car.”

“Sounds like a meet-cute,” Iris murmured.

Barry’s eyes twinkled, as he looked at her.

“So, when we ran into each other again,” Joe said. “This time at the bank with no problems whatsoever…” He waited for Nora to finish.

“We decided to get together – with our spouses – and have lunch.”

“How…quaint,” Iris said.

“And the rest is history,” Henry chimed in, frowning a few beats later. “Though I see Cecile wasn’t able to make it. What a shame.”

“Ah yes, her daughter – our…other daughter,” Joe amended quickly, “is sick unfortunately, so she stayed home to tend to her.” He paused. “Joanie.”

“I hope Joanie feels better soon. She seemed like such a…sweet girl the one time I met her.” Nora nodded her sympathies, but even Iris could tell the word ‘sweet’ hadn’t come out naturally, and with good reason.

Joanie was anything but sweet. Fiery was more accurate. It was something she shared with her on occasion – except when it was directed at her father, of course.

“Well, Wally is here,” Joe continued, setting his hand on the back of his son’s chair. “Our son.”

“Your son,” Wally muttered, confusing the Allen’s.

“I don’t-”

“Our turn!” Iris interrupted before Henry and Nora could ask any more questions that might ruin the cheerful vibe they were going for on this pre-Christmas get together. “Why don’t you tell them, babe?”

She turned to Barry, who was taken off-guard. He quickly shut his mouth though and cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes, of course. We, uh, we met in Coast City at the Jitters there. Iris was on lunch break, and I was just leaving. I bumped right into her and spilled my coffee all over her fancy new outfit.” He winced.

“And then I asked him out,” Iris blurted, her heart eyes directed at him seen from every angle across the table.

“Wow,” Wally drawled. “He must’ve been quite a looker then.”

Iris rolled her eyes.

“He was so adorable, apologizing and offering to buy me a new drink and a new shirt. I suggested we go shopping together, and he could make it up to me that way.”

Joe and Wally shared a look.

“Shopping?” they asked, deadpanned.

“Mhmm.” Iris nodded, smiling brilliantly. “And the look on his face every time I stepped out of the dressing room…well, I knew he was a keeper.”

Nora was enraptured by their story-telling.

“Did he hold all your clothes too?” she asked.

“All my shopping bags?”

Nora nodded.

“Yes, he did.” She chuckled. “And he didn’t go near my coffee.”

Henry and Nora chuckled. Wally and Joe managed faint smiles.

“You’re sure you didn’t meet on the train over here?” Joe asked when the laughter had quieted down.

Iris’ eyes bulged.

“Dad.”

“It’s just a question,” Joe said innocently.

“It’s okay, Iris.” Barry squeezed her hand. “I’m sure, sir. We met a few months ago, but we did bump into each other on the train.”

“I’m confused. I thought you already knew each other.”

“Oh, we did. We’d been dating, but we both planned on seeing our families separately, and then we ended up on the same train.”

“You didn’t know you were going to the same place?” Nora asked, curiously.

“We hadn’t really talked that in depth about our families yet, Mrs. Allen,” Iris said.

“Oh, it’s Nora, dear, please.” She smiled, and Iris smiled back.

“Have you been with each other at all, since you were on the train?” Joe asked, and Iris sent him a glare.

“Dad. This is not an interrogation. You’re with friends and family, not on the job.”

Silence descended.

“You’re right,” he finally said, talking slowly. “I must just be confusing your story with someone else’s.”

He sent his daughter a glare of his own and took a sip of the eggnog in front of him.

“Well, why don’t we eat?” Nora suggested, smoothing over the tension rising in the room. “I spent a lot of time cooking – Henry helped. It’d be a shame if you went to waste.”

“Of course,” Joe agreed. “It looks wonderful, Nora – and Henry.” He smiled, then met his daughter’s gaze. “Why don’t we eat up and talk more later.”

Everyone started to move as dishes were passed around the table, and the little conversation that happened after that was light and surface-level and non-accusatory. Iris was grateful, though she dreaded the inevitable conversation that she’d have with her dad once they returned home.

She tried to focus on eating the delicious food instead and sharing space with Barry. She wished the two of them could run away from here and just be together instead of facing all these questions and togetherness, but then she’d have to deal with the fact that she was dipping her toe into a relationship again, as opposed to just pretending to be in one.

It was all too complicated to think about, so after a while she excused herself for the restroom and Barry excused himself to help her find it, since she hadn’t been there before – and hadn’t thought about that fact before she left.

Joe watched Barry like a hawk until he’d exited the room and was mildly annoyed when Barry shut the door behind him on the way out.

“Everything alright, Joe?” Nora asked, nudging him slightly.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, yes, of course. I just um…I feel like I’ve seen your son before.”

“Before this week?” Henry asked, curious.

Joe nodded. “Maybe before those two were even together.”

“Huh,” Henry and Nora said.

Joe shook it off and smiled complacently.

“I’m sure it’s just my memory playing tricks on me again. It’s stressful around the holidays.”

Nora chuckled. “Now that I can agree with. Just putting the lights up around the roof last night had Henry cursing up a storm,” she confided.

“Hey!” Henry barked.

“I could hear you from inside the house, darling.” She patted his hand.

“It’s hard to put those lights up when it’s cold and windy,” he muttered.

“Of course.” She smiled, then looked around at everyone’s plates. “Dessert?”

…

Barry found Iris sitting on the bottom step of the stairway heading upstairs, sniffling, and his heart nearly gave out. He came to sit beside her and wrapped his arm around her, pressing his lips to the side of her face. She curled into him and snuggled close.

“This is a bad idea, Barry.”

“What’s a bad idea?” he asked, and she sighed.

“You know what…us, pretending. My dad is gonna give me the third degree when we get home, and I don’t know if I can just lie to him. I have a good poker face, but his is better.”

“So, don’t go home. Stay here until it’s too late for him to have been up. We’ll figure out what you say to him in the morning together.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Barry, I don’t know…”

“Hey.”

He tipped her chin up, so she was looking at him.

“Don’t bail on me now.”

She sighed.

“I just…feel like I’m suffocating in here. Like I’m gonna pass out if I have to keep talking to our families together, and God, I wish my dad wasn’t a detective right now. I hate how he’s been interrogating you.” She frowned. “I hate it.”

“I can handle him. Don’t worry about it.”

She shook her head slowly.

“How can you be so…confident? And sure? And…not freaking out like I’m freaking out?” She laughed painfully.

“Because, Iris, no matter what I have to deal with between our families and your dad especially, it’s worth it if I get to spend time with you.”

“Barry…”

“I want to break out in song right now.”

She laughed. “What?”

“It’s true. I want to sing a song of how amazing and beautiful and smart and magnetic you are, and how lucky I am just to be near you. I want to spin you around this room in a waltz, so you can feel yourself floating off the ground. I want you to look into my eyes and know you’re falling in love, even if it’s all in act to make me feel better. I can deal with the hard stuff, Iris. It’s losing you before I’m ready to that I can’t handle.”

Her lips parted, and he dipped his head down to kiss her.

“God, you take my breath away.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, imagined him singing and dancing with her and almost felt herself floating right then. He was intoxicating to be around in the best possible way. It wasn’t hard for her. It was easy, and it felt like the beginning of an epic romance, if only she’d let it.

Before she could let herself get down in the dumps again about not letting it, she felt Barry get up and saw him extending his hand out to her.

“Are we going somewhere?” she asked.

“It just started snowing,” he said. “Let’s take a walk.”

A million questions raced through her mind, but instead she took his hand and stood beside him.

“Okay.”

He helped her slip into her jacket as they got their winter jackets and shoes on, and then they slipped outside the front door without telling a soul about their departure. They walked hand in hand around the block, and by the time they came back, Iris felt herself absolutely glowing with warmth and love. She had no objection whatsoever to him sneaking them into the backyard instead of going in the front door.

“Have you ever seen Cinderella?” he asked, wrapping one arm around her waist and clasping his other hand in hers with their arms outstretched.

“Which one?” she laughed, moving with him as they danced slowly in circles.

“Rogers and Hammerstein’s. 1997. Brandy.”

She giggled.

“Of course. It’s only my favorite version.”

She fluttered her eyelashes unknowingly and gazed deeply into his eyes, practically willing him to sing the song filtering through her mind at that very moment.

“Do I love you because you’re beautiful,” he sang, “or are you beautiful because I love you?”

She gasped softly.

“Am I making believe I see in you a girl too lovely to be really true?” He continued to sing. “Do I want you because you’re wonderful? Or are you wonderful because I want you? Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream or are you really as beautiful as you seem?”

“Maybe I’m imagining you,” Iris said, quoting Cinderella’s lines. “And maybe I’m imagining you too.” She hesitated a moment, then faced one of her biggest fears as a child and opened her mouth to sing. “Am I making believe I see in you a man too perfect to be really true? Do I want you because you’re wonderful or are you wonderful because I want you?”

Barry joined her again, singing as he spun her around.

“Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream or are you really as wonderful as you seem?”

They came to a stop, breathing heavily.

“You sound so beautiful, Iris,” he said, bringing her gloved hands to his lips to kiss. Then, risking everything he met her eyes. “I lo-”

The backyard lights switched on, and they turned, startled, to see everyone they’d left behind staring at them through the large picture window.

“Is this the part where I run away because the clock has struck midnight?”

“No.” He half-waved to their audience. “This is the part where we go stand on the front porch, and I kiss you under the mistletoe.”

She turned to look at him, and his dashing smile, and let him lead her out of the light to the front of the house. They walked up the steps, and sure enough hanging over the front door was some mistletoe.

“Now where was I?” He grinned, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, I remember. Iris. I-”

She pulled him down to kiss him, too afraid of what it would mean if he really said the words.

As soon as they broke apart, the front door swung open.

“Time for games!” Nora announced.

Iris shyly ducked her head, and Barry squeezed her hand as they stepped back inside.

“What’s first?” Barry asked. “I’m team Iris!”

Heat flooded her cheeks, and Nora smiled warmly.

“Charades.”

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #we met on a train #chapter 7

[city-of-november]

Welcome to Bear Inc.! These are the main 7 OCs of the Bear Inc. universe, known together as The Bears. (There's many other characters, but these are the main ones.) Initially, they were all created to represent specific personality traits (very original, I know) and were just In My Head, but now they’re just kinda.. regular folks. 

(More info about them under the cut)

Ted E. Baer is a chill, average dude representative of overall positive emotions. He works for the local package delivery, biking around the city to get folks their mail. Likes Video games, hamburgers, and Synthwave music.

Damien L. Reaper is a smooth and charming creature of the shadows, able to morph in and out of the darkness with ease. He’s representative of more negative emotions, like the voice in the back of your head. He works as an Afterlife Agent at Bear Inc., concerned with the manner of souls and their retrieval. (More info on that later.) Likes having control, iced tea, and Jazz music.

Barry Barnes is a big ol’ softie that’s often down on his luck. A hopeless romantic, Barry’s representative of romantic and depressive feelings. When he’s not bundled up in something comfy and feeling down, he works as a digital artist. Likes sleep, comfy clothes, and Lofi music.

Kevin T. Stamper is a chaotic being from The Beyond, having cartoonish properties and being made up of a black goo-like substance. Due to this, he’s able to shapeshift into nearly any form he wants, although some key giveaways include his black-and-white color scheme and a pair of bear ears being present. He’s representative of the more strange but fun emotions, often causing mischief and having fun. Kevin’s the keeper of The Void, a sub-dimension of The Beyond that exists outside of natural time and space and acts as a temporal dumping ground. (More info on that later as well.) Likes rubberhose cartoons, open spaces, and Electro Swing music (although The Void consumes all.)

Stephen R. Jarvis is a relatively plain and simple man, but he has a knack for being able to perform any voice or sound possible. He’s representative of one’s internal monologue and reading voice. Having such talent, there was really only two possible career options for Stephen; Voice acting, or Identity theft. Stephen chose the former. Likes peace and quiet, vocal exercises, and Classical music. (but he’s open to just about anything.)

Bruce G. Ashton has some serious anger issues, often getting agitated over the most minor inconvenience. Naturally, he’s representative of anger. Bruce takes up boxing practice or exerting himself at his job to blow off some steam, though the latter can sometimes cause his anger to worsen. If provoked enough, he goes into a blind fury, seeming less explosive but much more dangerous. He works as a freelance mechanic, often taking in broken down vehicles as a hobby. Likes physical exertion, video games (though he’s broken several controllers), and Metal and Rock music.

Akuma is another creature from The Beyond, but unlike Kevin, he is a being of pure torment and misery. He is the embodiment of guilt, impulsive decisions, and paranoia. In his main form, he is only identifiable as a silhouette, the only recognizable features from a distance being his stark white eyes and all-too-wide grin. His body is wet to the touch; almost gooey, but still solid. Similar to Kevin, Akuma is also somewhat of a shapeshifter, being able to shift into a sort of “lure” form. This form is more identifiable, it's prominent features including a significantly shorter height, (roughly 4'11") beady black eyes, and an inviting, almost eerie smile. His name is a play on the japanese words Akumu, meaning Nightmare, and Kuma, meaning Bear. Likes causing pain, being in the dark, and soothing-but-creepy music.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! These will be the main 7 characters used in this world, and I look forward to bringing out more content with them!

#Bear Inc. Art #Ted E Baer #Damien L Reaper #Barry Barnes #Kevin T Stamper #Stephen R Jarvis #Bruce G Ashton #Akuma #OC Art #Character Ref

[reidio-silence]

Goldwater’s success in the South was historic, to be sure. In Alabama he won 70 percent, and his coattails swept in practically an entire new House delegation, five of eight representatives, wiping out some eighty years of Democratic seniority. Less dramatic shakeups transpired in South Carolina (59 percent), Louisiana (57 percent), and Georgia (55 percent). In every Southern state he lost—Texas, Tennessee, North Carolina, Arkansas, Florida (where he won 49 percent), Virginia, and Kentucky—Republicans were elected to statewide office in unprecedented numbers. In Mississippi he got 87 percent of the vote. He even won Hattiesburg, which was rather remarkable. On October 22, scientists had set off a nuclear device 2,700 feet beneath the ground a few miles southwest of Hattiesburg to study test-verification methods. The blast created a shock wave that rippled the ground ten inches high and knocked stock off warehouse shelves for miles around. (“The South shall rise again,” read a placard a sardonic technician placed next to the blast site.) The blast was detected as far away as Western Europe. Hattiesburg didn’t mind that Goldwater was the Senate’s premier advocate of unlimited testing. They went for him 89.2 percent.

Many a Southern liberal looked upon this development with serene confidence: any step back from the big-D Democrats was a step forward for small-d democracy. A Republican institutional presence was being built that would finally force Dixiecrats to actually attend to their constituencies. Then Southern Republicans “will see that their only hope for increasing party membership and winning elections is to be ‘for something’ rather than to be consistently against Democratic programs which are now ingrained in the politics and life of the people of the region,” asserted Sam Ragan, executive editor of the Raleigh News and Observer. “Emotional issues may momentarily sway, but the pinched pocketbook nerve brings even quicker reaction.... The disadvantaged and the dispossessed will make themselves heard, and self-preservation will dictate to the politician that he must heed the cry.” Dixie’s defection to conservatism, editorialized the Washington Post, was but a “one-shot affair.” Enlightened Republicans, wrote the keeper of the Los Angeles Times’s Dixie beat, now recognize that the Negro vote “can be as contestable as the Chinese vote, the white Protestant vote, the Catholic vote, the Jewish vote, or the vote of the freckle-faced redheads and one-armed shortstops.”

“WHITE BACKLASH DOESN’T DEVELOP”: so reported the New York Times. The blue-collar Slavs, Italians, and others who delivered Goldwater their majorities when polled at factory gates gave him numbers in the twenties in the only poll that mattered. Democratic loyalty held in the Boston neighborhoods where Louise Day Hicks reigned supreme, and in the Queens ones in which Parents and Taxpayers led antibusing school boycotts. Scores of formerly Republican suburbs known for guarding their neighborhood boundaries like medieval castles gave Johnson a clean sweep. For over a year, backlash had loomed in the public imagination like a pit bull straining at the leash. Now it was judged the mouse that roared. “Leaders of both parties are confident,” Sam Ragan wrote, “that elections will be decided on issues other than civil rights.” Like most pundits, he ignored evidence around the country that didn’t fit the comforting conclusion—like the fact that California decided against open housing by 2 to 1, even while going for Johnson by over a million votes. Or Goldwater’s overwhelming success in hamlets with large numbers of Evangelical Christians, like Jerry Falwell’s Lynchberg, Virginia.

— Rick Perlstein, Before the Storm: Barry Goldwater and the Unmaking of the American Consensus (2001)

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

Internalized Repression “Predictably, where increasing politicization combines with increased institutional repression, the situation has taken a violent turn. The 'contemporary prison' (Irwin, 1980) of the 1970s in the U.S. degenerated into a racial-ethnic battleground with inmate cliques and gangs organized apolitically for the purposes of defense and attack. This new mentality erupted in Canada with the bloody escape attempt and hostage-taking at Archambault Institution, Quebec, in 1982, where the number of long-term prisoners and inmates subject to special security precautions had been steadily increasing (Amnesty International, 1983). But while serious prison disturbances continue to occur, the political consciousness of prison inmates in both the U.S. and Canada has plainly eroded. As in the 1950s Big House era, inmates, especially in the context of increasing inter-personal violence, are simply trying to survive. It is unsurprising, therefore, that prisoners are distancing themselves from the contradictions and futility of their situation. For many, a fatalistic attitude prevails which blurs any meaningful distinction between those condemned to live inside prison walls and those who believe themselves to be beyond the shadow of the penitentiary. As one inmate stated in deprecating the goal of 'freedom' (expressed by Matsqui Institution inmates at the Matsqui Educational Institute, January 24, 1985):

What we have in here is our future. Soon they'll have as intensive a surveillance out there as they do in here. We'll all be in this situation soon. This place is just a 'testing ground' for the surveillance devices that will be used outside, everywhere.

In this Orwellian void, prisoners content themselves with meagre hedonistic pleasures, preferring institutional 'privileges' to vain protest. The logic of repression is internalized precisely because it is pervasive and inescapable. Conversely, the attempts by correctional staff to obstruct politicization are not understood by themselves as a calculated conspiracy, but as earnest attempts to re-integrate the offender into the larger 'social order'. The problems facing people are the same on the outside as on the inside;i.e., everyone could either see himself as behind the societal eight ball or can decide to pick himself up by the bootstraps.

And should prisoners fail to make the required adjustment, "common-sense' logic dictates an ironically smug explanation - - "Why expect prisoners to become social in the prison when they haven't been social outside it?" But it is not only prisoners and their keepers who have embraced resignation in the wake of stifled revolt. Radical criminologists, too, have lowered their sights, confessing to a romantic overestimation of the revolutionary potential of the prisoner movement. Staunch 'liberal' criminologists, while granting the reality of massive social injustices, argue the need to persist in the struggle for reforms that would mitigate the specific injustices of the correctional system. A newer breed of sociologists question the very possibility of change, citing the ubiquity of power as evidence of the haplessness of revolt. Amidst this intellectual default, criminologists are drawn deeper into the vortex of state control, fashioning theoretically specious analyses  which lay to rest the faded rhetoric of prisoner protest in the 1980s”

- R.S. Ratner, University of British Columbia, and Barry Cartwright, “Politicized Prisoners: From Class Warriors to Faded Rhetoric.” The Journal of Human Justice, Vol 2, No. 1, Autumn, 1990. p. 86-87.

#repression #systems of control #maximum security #prisoner resistance #prisoner revolt #failure of rehabilitation #failure of penal reform #prisoner community #circulation of surveillance #circulation of control #correctional service of canada #history of crime and punishment in canada #crime and punishment in canada #research quote #academic research #archambault institution #matsqui institution #r. s. ratner #criminology #critical criminology #penology

[thatalienfreak]

Here are some of my favorite Craig of the Creek characters!!

1) Secret keeper!!

He's iconic

I love his base

He's kinda mysterious

2) Junk lord!!

He keeps a lot of stuff. Is essentially a hoarder

He's just a loveable character

3) Kelsey!!

She's just beyond amazing

She has AWESOME monologues

She's not afraid to stand her ground

She's fearless in a way

4) The elders!! (Mark, Barry, and David)

They are geeks/nerds

They love playing games

Their fort is UNDER A ROCK WHICH IS COOL

In some sense they are full of wisdom

They are hilarious

It's been a while since I stated why I like certain characters so why not explain why I love these characters in this amazing show!!

#craig of the creek #the secret in a bottle #the secret kid #junk lord #kelsey #cotc elders #elder mark #elder barry #elder david #this show is awesome

[dc-earth53]

#0006 - Aquaman (Arthur Curry/Orin)

Age: 43

Occupation: King of Atlantis

Marital status: Married

Known relatives: Atlanna (mother), Tom Curry (stepfather), Atlan (father), Orm Marius (half-brother), Mera (wife), Arthur Curry Jr. (son, deceased), Koryak (son, deceased), Mareena Curry (daughter).

Group affiliation: Atlantis, formerly Justice League of America, Others

Base of operations: Poseidonis, Atlantis

Height: 6’1”

Weight: 325 lbs.

History:

43 years ago: Orin is born to Atlanna, queen of Atlantis. An ancient Atlantean superstition stated that children born with blond hair are cursed, and Atlanna and baby Orin are cast out from the kingdom. Atlanna travels to Amnesty Bay, Maine, where she meets lighthouse keeper Tom Curry. The two fall in love, and together they raise the child, newly rechristened Arthur.

33 years ago: Atlanna dies of pneumonia, due to a weakened immune system not accustomed to surface illnesses. On her deathbed, she tells Arthur of his true nature.

27 years ago: Tom Curry dies of a heart attack. After his funeral, Arthur leaves home to seek out his heritage.

26 years ago: Arthur briefly spends time in Alaska, falling in love with an Inuit woman named Kako and, unbeknownst to him, getting her pregnant. He’s driven away by the demonic god Nuliajuk before he can learn of the pregnancy.

24 years ago: Arthur is led to Atlantis by a pod of dolphins, and there he meets royal advisor Vulko and claims his birthright, learning of his heritage and usurping the crown from the corrupt king Orvax.

22 years ago: Orin first comes into conflict with Orm Marius, his half-brother, the Ocean Master, who tries to usurp the throne of Atlantis for himself.

20 years ago: Orin teams up with Barry Allen to fight the Trickster, and Barry dubs him “Aquaman.”

19 years ago: 

Aquaman becomes a charter member of the Justice League after helping Earth’s heroes repel an alien invasion.

Orin meets Mera, queen of the exiled Atlantean city of Xebel, and the two marry soon thereafter.

Orin first encounters the undersea terrorist Black Manta.

18 years ago: Orin takes the young Atlantean mage Garth on as a protege.

17 years ago: Orin and Mera have their first child, Arthur Jr.

15 years ago: Arthur Jr. is murdered by the Black Manta as part of an elaborate scheme to take revenge on Aquaman and Atlantis for past defeats.

12 years ago: In the wake of the Justice League’s disbanding, Orin joins the Martian Manhunter’s new League, headquartered out of the Secret Sanctuary in Happy Harbor. Mera leaves him soon thereafter, wrecked with concerns over his commitment to her.

11 years ago: Aquaman is one of the many heroes involved in the fight against the Anti-Monitor.

10 years ago: 

Aquaman again fights Ocean Master when the latter attacks Amnesty Bay.

Orin returns to Atlantis to find it conquered by a race of giant jellyfish. He succeeds in driving them out, and reclaims his throne.

9 years ago: Atlantis becomes embroiled in civil war, as Poseidonis is besieged and overrun by forces from Tritonis, allied with Black Manta

8 years ago:

Orin receives the Atlantis Chronicles, learning of his relation to Ocean Master and beginning to sink into a deep depression.

Orin and his ally Dolphin are kidnapped by the terrorist Charybdis, who plunges his arm into a pool of piranhas, cutting his left hand off at the wrist. He replaces it with a harpoon.

Arthur returns to the Arctic, meeting again with Kako and his fully grown son, Koryak. Koryak chooses to travel with him and Dolphin on their travels.

Orin joins the newly reformed Justice League of America in response to a White Martian threat on Earth.

Orin and Garth reunite after time apart, and Garth takes the new title of Tempest.

7 years ago:

Orin reunites the scattered city-states of Atlantis to stand together against the threat of Tiamat.

Orin’s harpoon hand is broken, and he is given a robotic hand to replace it, indistinguishable from flesh and blood.

Arthur and Mera reconcile as Atlantis goes to war with the island nation of Cerdia.

6 years ago:

Atlantis vanishes in the wake of the war against Imperiex, hurled into the Obsidian Age by Atlantean magic and enslaved by the sorceress Gamemnae. The Justice League and Orin succeed in returning Atlantis to its proper time.

A large portion of San Diego, California is sunken into the Pacific due to the machinations of Dr. Anton Geist. Orin annexes the city into Atlantis, taking San Diego native Lorena Marquez on as the new Aquagirl. 

5 years ago: Atlantis is besieged by Lex Luthor’s Secret Society, and Aquaman leads the charge to defend it. Koryak dies during the battle.

4 years ago: 

Arthur re-joins the Justice League.

Atlantis joins the United Nations, appointing Garth as their ambassador to the world.

3 years ago: 

Orin comes into conflict with the Trench, a lost tribe of Atlanteans evolved to live in the deepest parts of the ocean.

Orin recruits a group of individuals into a team called the Others to search for lost Atlantean artifacts across the globe.

Half-Atlantean mage Kaldur’ahm comes to stand alongside Orin as the new Aqualad.

2 years ago: While Orin is on a mission with the Justice League, Orm seizes the throne of Atlantis for himself. Orin takes it back, and then decides to retire from superhero work to better rule his kingdom. Lorena Marquez becomes Aquawoman in his stead.

1 year ago: Arthur and Mera have their second child, a daughter named Mareena.

Present day: Orin and Mera begin to investigate the disappearance of the sea god Poseidon.

Commentary:

Aquaman is an interesting one, as for a long time he was a bit of a wildcard character, having many portrayals across various runs that differed wildly from one another, many of them a direct reaction to his depiction in Super Friends, which earned him a fair bit of public ridicule. What resulted was a regular cycle of Arthur being king of Atlantis and then being exiled, and he and Mera being together and then separated. This depiction aims to streamline that, with only one major period of exile from the throne, leading into the events of Peter David’s run, which are largely preserved here.

The lack of major Aquaman storylines in the twilight years of the post-Crisis DCU also allowed me to bring in several New 52 stories here, as well as introducing the idea from Young Justice of Arthur retiring from superhero work and passing his mantle on, again tying into the major theme of legacy that I’ve chosen to embrace. (Although, as Kaldur’ahm isn’t yet old enough in this timeline, that responsibility instead goes to Lorena Marquez.)

Arthur as a character is defined here by his responsibility, to his kingdom and to his family. He will defend them to the death and prioritize them before anything else, even if it causes him personal tragedy. Despite their past difficulties, he and Mera have reconciled and have a stable, loving relationship, and Arthur works hard to ensure that the disparate city-states that make up the loose nation of Atlantis remain at peace, even forsaking his duties with the Justice League to focus on his kingdom.

As far as physical appearance is concerned, the recent, Jason Momoa-inspired look DC’s been using as of late is absolutely perfect. It preserves the classic orange and green while giving him a little bit of an edge with the long hair and beard - a nice middle ground between the classic clean-cut Aquaman and the hook-handed Orin from David’s run. He’s a warrior king, he should look the part, and it’s almost a rule that every male superhero looks better with a beard.

Coming up next: Aquawoman (Lorena Marquez) and one that will sure to piss people off: Nightwing!

Got any questions? Asks are open! 

#dc #dc comics #earth 53 #profile #aquaman #arthur curry #orin #justice league of america

[the-burry-man-of-lavender-town]

How do you fare with the winter climate dear...~?

"ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪs ʜᴏʀʀɪʙʟᴇ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʀᴀɪɴ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ sɴᴏᴡ ɪs ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ, ᴇᴘɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅʏ ɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴢɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ʙᴏɪʟɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴛ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ…"

"ⁱ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵒᵖᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ʷᵉᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ⁱ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ ʰᵒⁿᵉˢᵗ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈᵉʳ ⁱ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵘⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ… ᵇᵘᵗ ˡᵘᶜᵏⁱˡʸ ⁱ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵖˡᵉⁿᵗʸ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰᵉʷˡʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵇᵘˢʸ"

#Pokemon #Pokemon Oc #Pokémon #Pkmn irl #Pokeblr #Pokeblogging #Pokeblog #Pokepasta #Poképasta #Buried Alive Pokemon #Buried Alive Pokémon #the Buryman #Recovery au #Recovery Buryman Au #Barry The Grounds Keeper

[haileygarciasunshine]

Reunion

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Word Count: 1,683

Warning: Swearing, Making out

Summary: When Tom falls ill, his estranged son comes back into the reader's life bringing more than she bargained for.

Wattpad

Buy me a coffee

Leaning against your shut apartment door, you closed your eyes letting out a deep breath. It had been a long day at the diner, with many rude customers. Tossing your bag onto the floor, you made your way to the couch, laying across it. Pulling your phone out, you began looking through your notifications. There was a voicemail from Tom Curry.

As you listened to it, you picked up your purse before you made your way back out of your apartment. Starting your beat up pickup truck, you began driving to Tom’s house. It was 11:30pm. Tom was friends with your parents when they were still alive, which resulted in you and Arthur becoming best friends. He had been acting strange as of late, but you knew not to pressure him knowing he would tell you in his own time. 

The message that Tom had left you, made your heart beat more rapid. You spent most of the drive worrying about what could be wrong. When Arthur's mother died, it took a huge toll on him and his father. Your relationship was simply platonic, although many people thought you were together due to your closeness.

Flinging open the car door, you had barely put it in park before you jumped out of the truck.

“Tom?” You called frantically. “Tom?”

Your frantic feelings coming through when you knocked on the door. It was rapid and firm. 

“Tom!” You called again. “It’s Y/N! Open up!”

Still no answer. Fear began coursing through your veins. Letting out a sigh, you kicked the door open, debris flying. 

“Tom?” You called cautiously entering his house. An odd feeling overwhelming you.

Slowing entering the house further, you glanced around the house. Stepping through the threshold for the kitchen you saw him lying on the floor motionless.

“Tom!” You shrieked, quickly kneeling beside him. Pulling out your phone you were about to call 911, before you remembered it would be at least ten minutes before they got to you. Grabbing one of his arms you hoisted him up, getting him into the truck. Exceeding the normal speed limit, it was a few minutes before you arrived at the hospital. Hosting him up again, you trudged through the emergency room. 

“Someone please help!” You called. 

A group of nurses quickly surrounding you, taking Tom and placing him on a hospital bed.

Watching them take Tom into a room, you quickly made your way back to your truck parking it somewhere safe. Making your way back towards the ER, you pulled your phone out calling Arthur. 

It was only a matter of minutes before Arthur, Clark and Bruce, showed up at the ER.

“How’s he doing?” Arthur questioned handing you a cup of coffee.

Taking a sip of the coffee, you shrugged. “I don’t know. They haven’t come out with any updates yet.”

Glancing at the clock it read 1:30am.

“It only takes your father getting hurt for you to come by and see him.” You spat raising an eyebrow. 

“Y/N…”

Huffing you shook your head. “Save it. I’m not the one that you need to explain that to.”

Frowning he glanced at his shoes. “I...I…”

“I don’t care about your excuses, Arthur.” You snapped glaring at him. “Tom deserved better.” 

“He had you.” He reasoned. “You were there to take care of him.”

“That’s your justification for running away and leaving him?” Your voice filled with anger. Challenging him, you took steps forward stopping until you were mere inches apart. “What a pathetic excuse you have, Arthur.” 

A firm hand grabbed your elbow, pulling you away from Arthur. “Simmer down here children.” A deep voice sounded.

“Don’t touch me.” You spat, heat coursing through your veins, rising in your cheeks. Your heart beating rapidly. The lights around the waiting room, bursting causing small embers to fall as the burst. The electric lines outdoors near the room doing the same.

Grounding yourself, your chest began rising and falling at a rapid pace. Glancing at the men before you, they were staring at you with widened eyes. Grabbing your purse, you swiftly making your way down the hall. As you made your way through the halls, it dawned on you that you were still in your waitress uniform.

“Y/N!” Arthur called behind you. 

Shaking your head, you didn’t care to stop. 

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

A few months had gone by since you had last seen Arthur. It killed you everyday since then that you weren’t able to reconnect with your best friend, seeing as how close you were to rekindling the relationship. It had almost been like old times, him bringing you coffee, being your rock during a drastic time.

It was one of your rare days off, you were cleaning around your apartment. A firm knock echoed through your apartment, causing fear to wash over you. You weren’t expecting anyone to come over. 

Opening the door, you were face to face with one of the men from the night at the ER. 

“Y/N?” His deep voice questioned. “I’m a friend of Arthur’s. My name’s Bruce.” 

Allowing him in, you began brewing coffee for the both of you.

“What can I help you with Bruce?” You asked, leaning against the counter not meeting his gaze. 

“It’s about Arthur.” He began hope filling his voice.

Letting out a huff you shook your head. “I don’t know what you think I can help with.” You stated crossing your arms, sending a glare towards the man. “I’m not his keeper. Nor am I his friend.”

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

After, Bruce left you with some food for thought, you began chewing on it. Arthur was one of your best friends, could you really just walk away from him? 

Bruce had offered you a spot in the Justice League seeing what you had done in the ER waiting room. Graciously you declined, not wanting to be involved with things you couldn’t handle.

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

The news of Tom’s death was felt around the world. Holding a wake for him, you were filled with an anxious feeling. Anxiously waiting to see if Arthur came or not. Hours began to pass, as your hope began to felter. Letting out a sigh, everyone had come and gone leaving you with the duty of cleaning up the space and the trash.

“Am I too late?” Arthur’s voice rang through the hall. 

Tears began pooling in your eyes as relief washed over you. Turning around, you were surprised to see everyone in the Justice League standing beside him. 

“No.” You muttered, swiftly walking towards him. “Never too late.” You threw your arms around him, pulling him as close as possible towards you. The warmth of his hug, comforted you. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered into your shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you both needed me. I’m sorry-”

Pulling away from him, you rested your hands on his biceps. “None of that.” You spoke in a firm tone. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.” You smiled, gazing at each other.

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

Arthur introduced you to the rest of the team. They were very understanding and welcoming towards you. 

“Let’s go to the bar.” Arthur spoke. 

Frowning, your gaze fell to the floor. “I...I don’t know.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer Y/N. Come on.”

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

The night coming to a close, you were a little more tispy than you were used to. Clark had insisted he escort you home.

“Why’d you walk me home, Clark?” You asked curtly.

“I..I don’t know.” He frowned slightly, not expecting your question.

You hummed in response. “You’ve never talked to me yet somehow you are always around me.” Raising an eyebrow at him, you turned toward him slightly.

Letting up on him, the rest of the walk was in an awkward silence. 

Arriving at your building, you were facing each other. Rocking back and forth slightly, you gazed at the ground in front of you. 

“Do you want to come up?” 

“If you’re okay with that.” 

Giggling slightly, you nodded leading him upstairs. 

Changing into something more comfortable, you gazed at Clark in the middle of your living room still in a tux. Since meeting, you both had been prancing around your feelings between you for quite some-time. You failed to realize you were leaning against your doorframe, gawking at Clark.

“Like what you see?” He smirked, questioning in a teasing tone. 

You hummed in response, biting your bottom lip. Clark was in front of you in a split second. One of his hands resting comfortably on your hip while the other brought his thumb up to your lip, pulling it from your teeth. Gazing into your eyes, he slowly leaned forward nuzzling his nose against yours. His soft lips touching yours in hesitation. Bringing your hands up to his hair, they locked themselves behind his head holding him to you. His tongue darted out tracing the crevices of your lip before you allowed him into your mouth. Both of your tongues prodding and licking against each other. Taking in a sharp breath, he began leading you to your bed. Your knees hitting the edge of the bed before you pulled Clark onto your bed with you. Making himself comfortable above you. His soft lips trailing along the column of your throat earning a gasp from you when he began sucking and biting in his wake. 

“Guys!” Victor boomed walking into your apartment. 

“We know you’re here!” Barry spoke. 

“Figured we could do some team building!” Arthur added.

Letting out a sigh, Clark placed a chaste kiss to your lips before standing up, pulling you with him.

Stepping into the living room, the three men dropped their gazes to you.

“We weren’t interrupting something were we?” Arthur spoke in a gruff voice. 

Clearing your throat, you spoke. “No, not at all.” You shook your head.

“Umm.” Barry started. “Are you sure? Cause Clark has some lipstick on his face and collar-”

Victor elbowed him roughly, causing him to cough.

“What’re you guys doing here?” You asked, swiftly changing the subject. 

“Movie Night!” The three of them replied in unison.

#dc #dccomics #clarkkent #clark kent #clarkkentimagine #clark kent x reader #clarkkentxreader #superman #supermanxreader #superman imagine #supermanimagines #supermanimagine #clarkxreader #henrycavill #henry cavill #superhero #superheroimagine #superheroimagines #clark kent x y/n #readerinsert #reader insert

[dykerachelsummers]

Earth-82 Teams, Part I

i actually made this post forever ago but i decided to remake it, since i’ve since changed some backstories around!

The Justice League of America (Founders) 

Bruce Wayne (Batman) - Bruce witnessed his parents’ death when he was seven years old and after that he was put into the custody of Alfred Pennyworth (his family’s butler) and Leslie Thompkins (a doctor friend of Thomas’s). During his college years, Bruce sought out training so that he could eventually return to Gotham and attempt to eradicate crime. During this time, he joined the League of Assassins for a while and fell into a brief relationship with Talia al Ghul. He became Batman at 23 and adopted Dick Grayson a year later. 

Clark Kent | Kal-El (Superman) - Kal-El is the only biological son of Jor-El and Lara-El (nee Lor-Van), who was born during Krypton’s last days. Jor and Lara sent him and his older adopted brother Val to Earth, with the hope that they would be taken in by a human family who would raise him well. When they landed they were found by Jonathan Kent and Martha Kent (nee Clark), a childless couple. Martha convinced Jonathan that they should adopt the two boys, they eventually chose to give them the human names Clark Joseph Kent and Val Harold Kent, raising them as normal humans, despite their strange origins. He became Superman at 22, a few months after being employed at the Daily Planet. 

Diana, daughter of Hippolyta (Wonder Woman) - Diana, Princess of Themyscira, was Queen Hippolyta’s and General Phillipus’s oldest daughter. Made from clay, Diana is one of the results of multiple goddesses deciding to give Hippolyta her wish to have a child. Diana grew up semi-isolated on Paradise Island, surrounded by the Amazons but lacking company her own age, other than her twin sister Nubia. She was almost three thousand years old when Steve Trevor landed on Themyscira. After a series of challenges that she won, Diana was chosen as Champion of the Gods and left Themyscira with Steve. She helped end WWI but didn’t return to Themyscira at that point, because she had fallen in love with Steve. She stayed with him until he died, before returning to Paradise Island. She did this several more times and at one point brought a young orphaned baby girl back with her to Themyscira. Hippolyta chose to adopt the girl and raised her as Diana’s youngest sister. Diana chose the name Donna, in honor of a fallen friend. Diana became known as the Wonder Woman in certain conspiracy and history circles around the time of the Gulf War.  

Arthur Curry | Orin (Aquaman) - King of Atlantis, Arthur is the son of Atlanna, the former Queen of Atlantis, and Tom Curry, a human lighthouse keeper. He was raised in the surface world but was informed of his Atlantean heritage at a young age. His father got sick when Arthur was fifteen and, afraid, Arthur fled to Atlantis. Once there, he learned his mother was believed to be dead and that her husband (Orvax) had been made king. Arthur was welcomed to the kingdom, as a member of the royal family. Arthur was there for two months before Orvax was killed by a rampaging sea monster and the Council of Atlantis was split about who should inherit the throne, but ends up choosing his younger half-brother Orm, with Nuidis Vulko as his advisor. At first, Arthur seemed welcome at Orm’s side, but he was soon informed by a mute servant that Orm planned to have him killed. The servant, an Atlantean mutant named Dolphin, helped him escape and took him to the stronghold of the rebellion that she was a member of. He, with the help of the growing rebellion led by Mera of Xebel, overthrew Orm and Arthur - now known as Orin throughout the kingdom - took his place on the throne.

Kendra Muñoz-Saunders (Hawkgirl) - Kendra is the reincarnation of Chay-Ara, an Egyptian priestess of Isis who - alongside her lover, Prince Khufu, and a priest of Hathor, Hath-Set - found Thanagarian nth metal, which turned them into Thanagarian-human hybrids and made it so they would reincarnate each time they die. This lifetime Kendra is an archaeologist, along the vein of Lara Croft. On her twenty-first birthday, she received her first memory of her life as Chay-Ara and has since retrieved many more of both Chay-Ara’s and her other past lives. 

Barry Allen (The Flash II) - Barry Allen was destined to become the Flash, not that he knows this. When he was eleven years old Eobard Thawne traveled back in time from the twenty-fifth century and murdered his mother before disappearing again. Barry’s father was blamed for his wife’s murder and imprisoned for the crime, despite Barry’s protests. Barry was adopted by Jay and Joan Garrick, old friends of his parents. Barry is a certifiable genius and managed to graduate high school at sixteen. Barry went through college and got a degree in biochemistry and could have gone farther and become a renowned scientist but instead chose to become a CSI for the CCPD. Barry became the second Flash (though for about six months he was known only as the Scarlet Speedster) when he was twenty-two, due to a lightning strike which hit him and caused him to crash into a bookshelf of chemicals. Unknown to him, the lightning was actually the Speed Force choosing him.

Dinah Lance (Black Canary II) - Dinah is the eldest daughter of Larry and DeeDee Lance, born with a dominant metagene. The metagene activated during a traumatic childhood experience when she almost fell from a great height but managed to stop herself from hitting the ground with a powerful scream. Dinah grew up in Gotham City with her best friend, Zee Zatara. She was very close with her mom’s best friends, John Zatara and Ted Grant, seeing them as her uncles. When Dinah turned eighteen years old, she left Gotham and moved to Seattle, where she started college, joined a (pretty good) punk band, and became known as the “Lady in Black” - a vigilante that stopped muggers and rapists with a single scream and a few well-placed kicks. Little did Dinah know that she was following in the footsteps of her mother, the first Black Canary. 

Zee Zatara (Zatanna) - Zatanna is the daughter of Giovanni “John” Zatara, a golden-aged superhero called the Magician who had been a member of the JSA and was capable of some magic (a descendant of the Homo Magi), and Sindella, one of the last pure Homo Magi. Zee was born with magical potential the likes of which few could compare. Due to John being close friends with DeeDee Lance and Thomas Wayne, Zee grew up as a friend of Dinah Lance and Bruce Wayne. John decided to move to Europe when Zee was ten years old and while Zee lost contact with Bruce, she stayed close to Dinah. During her time in Europe, John sought out magicians to help train Zee. When she was eighteen, Zee decided to leave Europe (and her on-again-off-again boyfriend John Constantine) and move to Las Vegas to try and get a start as a stage magician, following in the footsteps of her father. 

#tee talks #bruce wayne #clark kent #diana prince #arthur curry #kendra muñoz-saunders #barry allen #dinah lance #zatanna zatara #earth 82 #my personal dc reboot #dc

[adventuresloane]

Beyond Words

Taako & Lup

Rating: G

Words: 1.6k+

Read on AO3

((Repost from older ask meme!))

"I know it hurts," Lup says almost at the same moment he lets out another pained hiss. "I'm sorry." Both of his cheeks are scraped, and the disinfectant turns the constant dull burn into a sharper sting. This wouldn't be the first time he's been scratched up like this. It isn't even the first time he's gotten scratched up after being dragged around by the hair by a stall-keeper who'd caught him red-handed in a petty theft. By now, he knows it's got to feel worse before it feels better. That doesn't stop the tears from rolling down his face, mixing with the gritty dirt and the blood and the stinging stuff.

Her touch is ginger as the feet of a butterfly on his face. This is one of the only times she ever tries to hold back. She certainly didn't do anything of the sort when she was pounding on the fists of the shopkeeper, latching onto his burly arm and not letting go even when she was lifted off the ground. Not that it mattered.

"Sorry," she whispers with every other dab of the cloth. "Sorry."

"I know you're hungry," Taako murmurs as she feels the familiar scrape inside her belly. The hurt is low and deep, like shame. Lately, she's been turning tail on more fights than she would have liked--or, rather, Taako's been dragging her out of every potential scrap, even when she's primed to charge in screaming. It's terrible. It's humiliating, to receive parting blows to her back as they run away, and she sulks at Taako for it every time. But she knows he's right even in those moments. She couldn't very well fight when sometimes just standing up sometimes made her vision go dark.

He's sitting with his back to the fire, hunched over and turned away from her. She knows what he's doing, though, because it's the same thing he's been trying to work on for weeks. It makes her feel useless just lying there, but all the same, each one of her exhausted limbs anchors her to the ground. He's brandishing a scavenged wand that he threw together from a broken yew branch and a tiger's-eye bead that had "fallen" (been knocked) from a jeweler's stand. If he can just get the gesture right, the precise flick of his fingers, he could use transmutation magic to turn the bark in front of him to a meal for them both. She knew he could do it. She hoped.

In the past, he's succeeded some. The food he crafts from magic fills her. That's all it has to do at this point. But that doesn't stop him from doing what he can to make it taste less like cotton in her mouth. Wild onions and berries that they'd found in sparse patches, not nearly enough to make a meal but suitable for flavoring. Grasses and herbs from the roadside. A single acorn. He tries it all. They both do whenever they're able, stirring ingredients in shoulder-to-shoulder. They dip small fingers into pots together, making faces at each other in unison when the experiment ends up tasting like shit, relishing quietly when it doesn't.

"I know when you're cold, Taako," she says with not a little exasperation. For probably the eighteenth time that night, she's asked him whether he needs to share the blanket with her, and he's promptly denied it.

"What part of 'Taako's good out here' didn't you get?" he grumbles. She didn't have to be so insistent. He hasn't even been shivering--he learned long ago how to stop himself from doing it. It pisses him off, sometimes, how she just assumes shit about how he's feeling all the time. It pisses him off more that she's usually right.

"Yeah, sure." She pulls the thin wool blanket over to where he lies on the floor of the abandoned house that they've found for the night. Then she lies down and pulls it over the both of them before wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing up against him. The wool cloth is barely enough to fully wrap around one of them. The cold starts to lose its teeth, though, pulling away from his chilled skin.

Only the warmth isn't coming from the blanket. It's too immediate. It soaks into him and settles somewhere deep inside, like it's making a home, like it's always belonged there. It's centered on his belly, where her hands rest. He looks under the blanket, and it's only because of the darkness underneath that he can see her fingers, just faintly, glowing. "Lup?"

"Something new I'm working on," she says quietly against his back, and even turned away from her, he can hear the smile in her voice.

"Dope," he whispers back. On the other hand, it isn't always bad, her knowing without asking what'll make him feel better.

"Okay, I know you're tired, but listen, I finally figured it out." The slap of books on the table echoes through the floor of the library, earning him several shushes that he promptly ignores.

"You'd better have," she groans, forehead still pressed to wood grain. "If I spend another hour staring at this equation, I'm going to meld with this chair." It feels ungrateful even saying that. The IPRE Academy's dorm is both the most permanent and the most comfortable of homes they've had in years, and even if they've taken to doctoring up the bland cafeteria food with magic, they wouldn't trade their meal plan. The least she can do is put more effort into keeping the scholarship they've earned.

"Don't worry, I'll walk you through it, since as we're all aware by now I'm a goddamn genius. Hey, by the way, you look like death."

"Thanks for that," she mutters.

"You should skip class tomorrow. I'll tell the professor you were puking."

She sighs and finally lifts her head. "No, I should go, I'll just..." She trails off when she sees the cardboard Fantasy Starbucks cup that had been silently placed beside her. It smells of caramel and just the right amount of whip. She doesn't have to take the lid off to know that he got her order right.

"Koko...thanks."

"What?" he says, though she knows he heard her. "Here, let me show you how to solve this."

I know you want it, is what Lup says with the look she gives him. Her brows are arched and there's a smirk on her face and that's all the prompting he needs. He pulls the furry, five-colored, gloriously hideous jacket off the store rack and adds it to the heap he carries in both his arms. It's not like they'll have much time to shop for the two months that they'll be in space. Might as well get it in now.

Their coworkers at the IPRE will poke fun at both of them later for blowing their money on ugly crap. Let them. The only thing that matters is that the pair of them get it. Lup never asks why he needs a third pair of holographic pants. The whole point is that he doesn't need them at all, the same way she doesn't need a sequin dress she'll likely never wear--it's novelty, still, buying what they don't absolutely need. They'll surround themselves with total unnecessaries, to assure themselves that they're really and truly here, that they've made it to this place.

Lup also doesn't ask why he mends the same holes in shirts four times in a row, when he has so many others and it would be far less of an effort to just throw the old ones out. She doesn't ask why he saves everything, just like he doesn't have to ask why she dives for change she sees on the sidewalk. Nothing needs to be said.

I know you're out there, he thinks as he and Barry search yet another dripping cave. She's not here. He knows that they have to check anyway, leave no stone unturned and all that, but his gut tells him that it's yet another waste of time, that they'll hit the stone wall before long and find nothing. He would know if she were near, the same way he knows that she's not gone forever, yet. He thinks he would know right away if she were. He would cease to exist in his current form as soon as she left this world.

I know you're out there, she does not so much think as feel, because complete and coherent thought has not yet returned to her in this black place. She's a planet at the time of its birth, still formless and shifting unshaped in a lightless and soundless void. She doesn't know much yet--so little she knows, so little has come back to her--but she knows that she isn't who she was. She can't be, out of context. She can't be who she's supposed to be when she's not part of a system, when she's alone. The rest of her is somewhere among the stars that she can no longer see.

These people just don't get him. This old dwarf and beefy human he's traveling with, they ask him why he's so hellbent on stealing and raiding all the corpses for goods, why he needs to sleep near the fireplace even though the Bureau's rooms are well heated. He doesn't like questions, especially when they're about himself. He can't answer them. Why should he have to answer them? He doesn't have to explain himself. He's Taako, From TV. He's got needs.

He shouldn't get mad at them. It's not like he knows them either, or cares to. It's wrong, maybe, to expect that they should anticipate his needs, or that anyone should. But he feels like someone should. Just once, he thinks, he shouldn't have to ask before someone knows what he needs.

I know you, comes a voice from some dark place. Taako, I know who you are.

#taako #lup #taako taaco #lup taaco #taz lup #taz balance #taz fanfic #taz #the adventure zone #the zone cast #gen fic #hurt and comfort #angst #fluff and angst #fan fiction

[hornsandthings]

red in your eyes, blood on my hands;

pairing: barry berkman x reader

summary: barry forces the reader’s hand by coming home beaten and bloody, asking them to stitch him up.

tags: angst & fluff! (my staples, of course) + blood. // word count: 1.8k // ps. i was overwhelmed by the super nice feedback on my prev. barry piece, thank you so much!! x 

barry groaned as he crumpled into the couch, his eyes shut tight as you knelt before him. he was loosely tugging at his jacket’s zip, the dark metal gleaming wetly. the black clothing stuck to his torso, deceiving the casual eye but it was no absolute keeper of secrets. you touched, you felt, and your hand came away red.

he shifted and you gasped, catching sight of the wound beneath the rip, an oozing, bloody mess. “barry,” you whispered, eyes wide, “barry. i need to take you to the hospital.”

he raised his head at that, wincing. “no. no hospitals,” he wheezed, weakly nudging at the plastic bag on the ground with his foot.

“you’re bleeding, barry! it’s deep—”

“stitches. all i need are stitches,” he reasoned, so pale and so tired. your mind was racing while his movements were slow, his breaths laboured. “i’d do it myself, but my hands are shaking.”

and they were. you gripped them hard, searching his eyes before dropping your gaze to his wound. his shirt covered the gore, but the wet, darkened patch was quickly growing. heartbeat pounding in your ears, it took several moments before you realised what barry was trying to ask, making you look down at the small package that peeked out from the bag.

a sewing kit.

“w-what?” you stammered, shaking your head wildly. one of barry’s hands had since slipped your hold, gripping his middle. red seeped between his fingers. “no. n-n-no. i—i can’t—i can’t do that—”

“please,” he sighed, the pain in eyes making your throat constrict. “i’m not doin’ so hot—”

“barry!” you pleaded, desperation making you sweat. he was already pulling at his shirt, letting it tear to reveal the blood beneath. the wound gaped, swollen and angry. it even seemed to throb, barry’s blood still oozing free with every heartbeat. his head lolled back onto the seat, looking down at you with drooping eyes.

“listen, barry, i don’t know how—you need a goddamn doctor—”

“i’ll tell you how,” he said, lip curling as tried to readjust his seat. there was the grumbling undertone of annoyance and frustration in his voice, or perhaps it was only the pain. “please, baby, you’re all i—agh, fuckin’—”

the blood had left a trail, all the way down his stomach to the line of his pants, beginning to stain the couch itself.

“fine,” you rushed, swallowing hard. “shit. okay, tell me what to do.” clenching your jaw, you stared that wound down, trying to get used to the sight. it was revolting, forcing your steely determination into a grimace. when barry failed to answer, you gripped his chin with the kind of strength only panic could induce. he was your lifeline now, just as much as you might’ve been his.

“yeah, okay,” he said, nodding. “you need to sterilise the needle.”

“h-how?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as you fumbled with the little sewing kit. your hands were trembling so hard that you almost spilled it all.

“fire is the quickest.”

you nodded, hurrying to the kitchen. the drawers banged as you tore them open, utensils knocking together as you fumbled for a gas lighter. everything – your face, your skin, your eyes – felt hot as your daft fingers repeatedly missed the trigger.

“fuck!” you squeaked, and a tear burned down your cheek. you changed tactics by rinsing your hands before filling a bowl with water, then gathering some paper towel. you tried to steady yourself, but your knuckles remained white, and the painful lump in your throat was there to stay.

kneeling between barry’s legs again, you had him hold onto the needle for the moment. “clean—gotta clean—”

your words were whispered, stuttered things, barely coherent as you started wiping the blood away. barry hissed, but you were being as gentle as possible, guided by caution rather than sympathy. your alarm seemed to calm somewhat as the wound became a jagged cut as opposed to an indiscernible gory mess, but something else was stirring in your chest. you couldn’t quite identify it, but it felt hot and fast, like something building. escalating.

finally figuring out the gas lighter, both of you watched the needle glow red. “that’s good,” he croaked. you nodded mutely, preparing the thread. “alright, come—come closer.”

barry settled against the back of the couch as firmly as he could, pulling you with him. his thighs brushed either side of your middle, and the smell of sweat and iron was pungent as you leaned close to his chest. his hands settled on your shoulders; it was almost a comfort.

“okay. start at the bottom, yeah—there.” pressing a hand next to the cut, you readied the needle, listening intently. “outside to inside, inside to outside,” he was saying, but you were shaking too much and the blood was warm on your fingers—

“dammit!”he growled, and you whimpered, sight blurring with fresh tears as that needle hung limp from his skin. the single stitch was loose, and the wound was still as gaping wide as ever. he eyed the mess you made, but squeezed your shoulder in reassurance. “it’s too shallow,” he panted, and you felt horrible for causing him more pain, but you weren’t a doctor; hell, you didn’t even own a first aid kit.

“i’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “barry, i can’t—”

“you can,” he insisted, starting to relay instructions again. he often interrupted himself with little grunts as you worked the needle, grinding your teeth when you had to pinch the skin together to pull the thread through. the task itself got easier with every additional stitch, getting used to the smooth slide of metal through flesh. “th-that’s it, baby. you’re doing—ouch, jesus—g-great.”

“fuck you, barry,” you ground out, feeling that tight, pressing feeling in your chest again. what if he woke up later with infection? what if it just ripped open again, what if he had lost too much blood already, what if he falls asleep and doesn’t wake up?

but it was done. a jagged line of simple interrupted sutures kept the wound closed, the black thread in stark contrast to his pale skin. his calloused palm slid up your neck to cup your jaw, pulling you up until your lips met his. it was a breathy kiss, soon interrupted by your choked sob. barry’s brow furrowed, looking down at your limp hands. they were stained with his blood.

your head spun. releasing a shuddering breath, you shifted to rest your head in his lap, gently curling your arms around his calves. he was running a hand through your hair, allowing some of the tension to leave his body.

“thanks,” he murmured, voice hoarse. you didn’t know what to say, trembling with lingering shock. you wanted to throw up; you wanted him to leave; you wanted to kiss him; you wanted to go to sleep.

“did you have to do this in the marines?” you ventured, fixating on the plastic bag you had kicked aside in your earlier haste. it boasted one of those stupid yellow smiley faces, telling you to have a nice day, but this one was crumpled and creased and folded in upon itself.

“i never had to, but we still had to know how,” he said, his response coming quicker than you expected. perhaps he was relieved that you weren’t asking about what had brought him here tonight, and you weren’t going to, either. a part of you was furious that he had the audacity to ask you to do this, to stitch him up, keep death at the door despite being just an average person. there was this, but also the anger that came with panic.

barry had scared you.

“are you going to be okay?” you sniffed, lifting your head. he gave you one of those soft, barely-there smiles, and you wanted to sob. “i’m so sorry, barry. i messed it up. it’s probably going to scar.”

“i don’t care,” he said. “it’ll make me remember that you were there for me when i, uh, when i needed you. i don’t… i don’t really have that with a lot of people.”

your heart clenched at the words. reaching for him, you halted as soon as you caught sight of your hands again, sticky with blood. recoiling, disgust crawled down your spine as that gaping wound flashed in your mind again.

with haggard pants and deep grunts, barry lowered himself to the floor next to you. “stop it!” you rushed, “you’re going to undo the stitches.” but they held, and barry took your hands in his as he dipped them in the bowl of water. “what are you doing?”

“saying sorry.”

you weren’t expecting it to work without any soap, but some of the blood flaked off your skin as barry gently washed it. tears rolled down your cheeks as you wondered how many times he’s had to do this for himself, how often his sink or shower had run red. your gaze kept drifting to his injury, trying to determine how he’d gotten it. if it was an attack, or an act of self-defence against barry.

“hey,” he said, his hand cold and wet as it held your cheek. “i’ll redo the stitches later, but i really needed to close it up fast. thank you, baby. i mean it.” barry kissed you again, all furrow-browed and smushed nose, stubble scraping your skin. it was familiar, reassuring, and you let your lips mould to his over and over again, hands curling over his nape. he tried to shift even closer, but the strain had him groaning in pain.

“let me get you some painkillers,” you sighed, helping him to your bedroom. he was heavy as he leaned against you, limbs gangly. he fell asleep before you even got the pills to him, still sitting against the headboard in his dirty clothes.

and so things dulled to monotony again; you showered, dressed, fell asleep beside him. the next day, barry would wake up with a hundred apologies, saying things like i shouldn’t have involved you and i wasn’t thinking straight, but you’d tell him it was alright, it was all alright, even though it wasn’t. the feeling of barry’s blood slipping through your fingers was oppressive, sickening; it filled you with such regret and fear and longing. however, the thing – the most ridiculous thing, perhaps – was that you loved him. you loved barry berkman, despite his shades of grey, and you’d much rather get your hands dirty than have him struggling out in some empty alleyway.

“please don’t do this again,” you had whispered to his sleeping form, gently smoothing out those frown lines on his brow. it was a futile wish, because barry’s life was governed by murphy’s law, but if he still held hope in his heart, so could you.

#barry berkman x reader #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman fanfiction

[gilbert-blythe-ruined-my-life]

Anna watches S03xE05 for the first time (warning: spoilers!)

Costume? ON

Wig? GLUED

Shoes? LACED

Face? PAINTED

I even have a red nose and my trusty horn on standby!

I’ve got my clown dress on tonight,

Dancin’ in my tent in the big spotlight,

Got my wig on real, big circus-clown style!

Clown shoes on,

I’m feeling alive!

I’m sizzlin’ like a snare and nothin’ scares me anymore!

MOIRA CAN’T HURT ME OR MAKE ME A CLOWN WHEN I AM ONE ALREADY MUHAHAHAHAHA

I’M A CLOWN

READY CLOWNS?

LET’S GO CLOWNS!

Here it goes!

Gilbert? In a bee keepers outfit? Okay! Not what I expected, but okay!

HOW HE TALKS TO THEM BAHAHAHA.

That honey looks so good though, ngl.

WAIT, IS THIS A REFERENCE TO THE BIRDS AND THE BEES????

The awae theme song is perfect circus-clown music.

MY SON CHARLIE.

MY SON.

LOOK AT MY SON.

Is Gilbert noticing??

TELL ME HE IS.

Anne is LOVING this lesson.

TILLIE AND THE PAULS.

BIRDS AND THE BEES

Who is spying on them??

RED BREAST.

MATING SEASON?

WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON WITH THE PAULS.

OH NO MOODY!!

DR BLYTHE TO THE RESCUE!

I swear they hurt people on this show just so Gilbert can show off.

IT’S A CHILD, THANK GOODNESS.

Did Ruby just faint??

THEY’RE KA’KWETS LITTLE BROTHER AND SISTER.

When are we going to see Ka’kwet again??

When are they going to save her??

ANNE’S GIVING HIM A PIGGY BACK RIDE, MY HEART.

‘Fix him up good, this one buys my hockey sticks’, SCREAMING

Gilbert is secretly loving this.

POOR MOODY THAT LOOKS SO PAINFUL.

Is Gilbert going to get his passion for medicene back??

NO. KA’KWET IS NOT WELL AND HAPPY. I’M GOING TO CRY.

Bash and Delly!

YAY GILBERT HAS HIS PASSION BACK AGAIN.

‘I can tell you one thing, you’re dripping stew’ BASH I LOVE YOU.

Rachel and Delly? The duo I didn’t know I needed!

OH NO RACHEL’S BACK.

I COULD FEEL THAT.

OH NO.

OH NO.

OH NO.

 PLEASE DON’T TRY TO PUT BASH AND MISS STACEY TOGETHER EMMA WOODHOUSE 2.0

JERRY

Where are my Jerry and Anne scenes??

DIANA KNOWS ABOUT CHARLIE AHAHAHA

‘Here, here! Gilve me Red-breasted Nut hatchers or give me death!’ I LOVE YOU DIANA MY BABY GIRL.

WE ARE BEING SO FED THIS SEASON WITH ANNE X DIANA CONTENT. IT’S WHAT WE DESERVE.

GUYS IS THIS GONNA BE THE SCENE WITH DIANA AND JERRY IN THE TRAILER?

IS THAT WHY JERRY DECIDED TO LEAVE EARLY??

IT IS.

IT IS, IT IS, IT IS!!

HE’S GOING TO WALK HER HOME.

NO DIANA, DON’T MAKE HIM GO HOME.

Jerry taking the hay off of his jacket to show the differences in their status. I SEE YOU SYMBOLISM.

‘I’d prefer that we continue…’ YES, YES, YES, YES, YES.

YES!!!!!!!

JERRY IS SO SMITTEN, LOOK AT HIM!!

SO THEY CALL THEM “THE PAULS” AS WELL. WE WERE RIGHT GUYS!

GUYS, MY FIC PREDICTED GILBERT BEING INTERESTED IN MEDICAL RESEARCH.

IN MY FIC HE’S INTERESTED IN ANTIBIOTICS.

GO READ MY FIC ON AOOO.

I’LL SHARE THE LINK AFTER.

An obituarary for Mary!

THE SHIRBERT STARE AHH.

NO DIANA DON’T.

OH.

OH. OH.

ANNE’S ON THE BOARD.

AND GILBERT IS THERE TO HEAR IT.

DID I WRITE THIS FIC????

‘Billy has two left feet and they both smell awful’ AGAIN. WE STAN JANE ANDREWS.

NO RACHEL, IT’S TOO SOON.

‘It’s time you remarried’ NO.

GIVE MY SON A CHANCE ANNE.

DON’T BE SO RUDE.

MY SON IS A CATCH.

‘The bride of boredom’ ANNE DON’T SLANDER MY SON LIKE THIS.

DIANA IS ENGAGING IN HER FORBIDDEN ROMANCE AND SHE’S NOT EVEN TELLING ANNE. THIS IS SCANDALOUS. WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH DIANA BARRY? I LOVE THIS!!

Why is Jerry not there??

THERE HE IS!

THIS IS SOME REAL FORBIDDEN ROMANCE TYPE STUFF.

THIS IS LIKE A FANFIC.

‘If anyone saw us!’ I FEEL LIKE A GHOST WROTE THIS FANFIC.

Yay, Bash said yes to the obituary!!

BELLE IS GONNA GIVE BIRTH SOON AHHHHH.

‘A nice cup of tea will set things right’ TRUER WORDS HAVE NEVER BEEN SPOKEN, MATTHEW.

Gilbert will write a beautiful obituary, I hope they read it to us!

DIANA IS READING FRANKENSTEIN!!

RACHEL’S SON IS GONNA PRACTICE THE DANCING WITH THEM. THIS IS GONNA BE GOLD.

ANNE AND RUBY’S FACES. I CAN’T WAIT FOR THIS EPISODE TO BE GIFFED.

RACHEL’S SON I CAN’T. POOR MISS STACEY.

Guys, the kids are going to dance. This is it! 

SHIRBERT.

SHIRBERT, I CANNOT.

THIS IS SUCH A MESS.

JANE I LOVE YOU.

GUYS LOOK AT JANE.

#WESTANJANEANDREWS

‘Whose the father!?’ TILLIE. WORRYING ABOUT WHICH PAUL IS THE FATHER? I CAN’T!

IS RUBY GONNA LIKE MOODY NOW? ABOUT TIME!

SHIRBERT.

THEY CAN’T TAKE THEIR EYES OFF OF ONE ANOTHER!

THE WAY GILBERT GRABBED ANNE. I CAN’T. I CANNOT.

THANK YOU MOIRA.

THANK YOU.

THANK YOU.

THANK YOU.

THANK YOU.

MAYBE I CAN START TO TAKE SOME MAKE UP OFF?

THEY’RE SO CUTE I’M CRYING.

GUYS THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL.

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL.

GUYS.

I’M SO HAPPY.

I’M SOOOOOOO HAPPY.

THE SLOW MOTION.

GILBERT’S FACE.

SAVE ME.

I’M SO HAPPY. THANK YOU MOIRA.

I’M GONNA TAKE MY MAKE UP OFF.

AND WIG.

BUT THE CLOWN COSTUME STAYS ON.

THAT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL.

POETIC CINEMA.

I’VE NEVER SEEN SUCH BEAUTY.

IN ALL MY DAYS ON THIS EARTH.

I WILL NEVER RECOVER.

EVERYTHING’S CHANGED NOW.

NO GILBERT. I wanted you to chase after her!

Has he gone after her?

NO. IT’S MY SWEET SON. CHARLIE SLOANE.

‘Oh, Charlie’ PLEASE BE NICE, ANNE.

EXCUSE ME.

EXCUUUUUUUSE ME.

CHARLIE YOU ARE MY SON NO MORE.

I DISOWN YOU.

I DISOWN YOOOOOOU.

‘An overly active mind causes women to be barren’ I KNOW HIS FATHER PROBS TOLD HIM THAT BUT WHAT. EW. 

ANNE, MY BABY, MY FIRST CHILD, MY BIOLOGICAL DAUGHTER, YOU WERE RIGHT. 

‘If I feel something for a girl, does it mean that she’s the one that I should marry?’ YES GILBERT. YES IT DOES. MARRY ANNE.

DIANA IS AT THE CUTHBERTS TO SEE JERRY.

THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN.

ANNE’S SEEN HER.

OH BOY.

OH NO.

THE ANGST.

DIANA’S PRETENDING THERE’S NOTHING BETWEEN THEM.

DID DIANA LEAVE THAT HANDKERCHIEF FOR HIM?

YES!!!!!

YES, YES, YES, YES!!!!

‘Unless there’s rough ground!’ JANE SHADING JOSIE ABOUT HER WALKING HOME WITH BILLY.

Guys, this is so silly. Anne ALREADY knows how baby’s are made. AND THE GIRLS HAVE A PRETTY GOOD IDEA TOO. Remember S1? When they were disgusted about what Anne had seen/heard? THIS IS A CONTINUITY ERROR.

ANNE’S GOING TO ASK GILBERT ABOUT THE BIRDS AND THE BEES. WHAT.

YES THEY’RE READING US MARY’S OBITUARY.

IMA CRY.

‘That’s your mama’ STOP. PLEASE. STOP.

YES BARRY’S, FINALLY!

Okay but what are the girls doing?? Their parents are gonna kill them!

THEY’RE HOLDING SOME SORT OF PAGAN RITUAL.

THIS WHOLE THING IS WILD

‘How I love being a woman!’ MY BABY ANGEL. IF THE WRITERS TOUCH HER I WILL - 

BELLE HAS HAD HER BABY.

AH THE BEAUTY OF IT!!

GUYS I WASN’T AS MUCH OF A CLOWN AS I THOUGHT I WOULD BE. 

I WAS ONLY PARTLY A CLOWN!

YIPPEE!!!!

#anna watches anne #awae #anne with an e #shirbert #anne x gilbert #awae spoilers #anne with an e spoilers #anne spoilers #3x05

[libertasrpg]

We welcome Adam Flayman to the city. He’s 23 years old and is a assistant store manager. Adam is often mistaken for Rhenzy Feliz. He’s open.

→ Background Information

All Adam has ever wanted is an easy life. His parents had a rather turbulent marriage so he sought quiet and peace at every given opportunity to escape the noise of home. That didn’t mean that they weren’t loving though. On the odd days without an argument, the Flayman’s adored their little boy. Family day trips were phenomenal, with Adam being spoiled the entire time. Then at the end of the day Adam would immediately retire his room. This is how he’s been ever since. Even in University, he’d be happy to go and hang out for friends with a couple of hours but then would need just as many hours in his room to recover. Adam does like socialising, it just takes a lot out of him.

→ Relocation Explanation

Adam started working on the bee farms the moment he left school, and he was happy with that. He watched over time though as his friend became more and more unhappy with it. While Adam didn’t personally have an issue with the job, he knew that Barry wanted to move on to bigger and better thing. What he didn’t expect however was for Barry to want to leave town completely. Taking the way the neighbourhood was treating him into account though, it made sense. Eventually Adam realised that this, too, was perhaps his chance to start afresh so decided to move with Barry to Libertas.

→ Living Situation

They hadn’t previously lived together but Adam and Barry decided to get a place together when moving to Libertas. Inevitably it was going to be a bizarre clash of their own stuff but it’s not entirely awful. There’s an interesting variety of books on the shelves, from Adam’s biographies to Barry’s activism guides. Adam doesn’t mind it, but what he has put his foot down with is Barry plastering the walls with his placards from protests. He understands they’re important to Barry, but he has to draw the line there. Similarly, his own room is rather plain. There aren’t very many decorations or pictures to be honest. Adam just doesn’t see the point in things like color schemes or trinkets. A bedroom is just for sleeping in after all.

→ His Personality

Structure is incredibly important to Adam. Whether it’s a set of instructions set in place, or a the law. They help keep things simple, keep things safe. Rules and regulations are there for a reason. Adam never really bothers to even consider what might be outside the box. He’s often teased for being such a square. That doesn’t really bother him though. Adam can think of plenty to do within the rules. He’s incredibly clever and likes to cover as much ground as possible when thinking of solutions to issues. He’s always particularly keen to put his mind to use when solving the problems of friends. Though his set-in-stone ways sometimes make him seem cold, Adam is actually very friendly. He always makes a good first impression.

→ His Qualities

Intelligent, mature, courteous, friendly

Unimaginative, disciplinarian, close-minded

→ His Relationships

Barry Benson (Best friend & roommate): Adam and Barry have been friends since they were younger. They’ve seen each other through every up and down there could be. Had they met later in life, they may very well have not bonded. Thankfully they did meet as kids though and they’ve had each others backs since. They have changed over the years and are different people now to who they were back then, but Adam still supports Barry any way he can. After all, Adam knows Barry can change the world.

Vanessa Bloome (Frenemy): There is something about the situation with Vanessa and Barry that Adam just does not like. He’s ended up seeing the woman more and more now that she’s playing such a role in Barry’s life, and Adam isn’t really happy about it. He plays nice to her face for his friend’s sake obviously, but he can’t help but feel they’re just not meant to be. Vanessa was in a relationship with Ken when they first met after all!

Ken Summers (Enemy): There’s only so much you need to know about someone before you can tell that they’re just a cruel person. Adam hadn’t even met Ken before he knew that he didn’t like him. Vanessa and Ken’s relationship to the side, Adam just knows that Ken isn’t a good guy and that’s that. There’s a bad air about him that Adam just doesn’t trust.

→ Possible Connections

Simon Catbe (Acquaintance): As an assistant manager, one of Adam’s jobs is typically collecting the post for the manager. It’s a pretty underwhelming task as a whole but some of the mail team are pretty friendly so Adam doesn’t mind. Plus if he does happen to strike up a conversation with them, it means he can get out of doing office work.

Perrie Van Winkel (Acquaintance): Adam is a bit of a worrier and the slightest ache or pain in his joins, and he heads straight to the physio to make sure there isn’t anything seriously wrong. Thankfully she’s usually happy to humour him and rule out anything bad.

Winnie Sanders (Acquaintance): When Adam first moved to the city, he did briefly consider taking the easy option and becoming a bee keeper again. He had plenty of experience in the field after all. Adam did talk to one or two people about the job before deciding not to go through with it.

→ Faceclaim Change:

Allowed | Not allowed | POC must | Discuss with admin

Suggestions: TBA

Adam is based on Adam from Bee Movie.

#Rhenzy Feliz #adam flayman #the bee movie #bee movie #marvel runaways #male #22 to 25 #open #open male