#I HAVE RACCOON DRAWINGS IN MY SYSTEM NOW

[rayalltheway]

They’re gonna fly away together

For Batch 89

#gotg v3 #rocket raccoon #gaurdians of the galaxy #gotg lylla #gotg teefs #GotG floor #THIS MOVIE WAS GOOD FR #I HAVE RACCOON DRAWINGS IN MY SYSTEM NOW #now I can say bye to marvel forever/hj

[d10nyx]

i apologise if you feel something

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, domestic abuse, possessive leon, toxic behaviour, heavy non-con, choking, p in v, improper prep, blood as lube, creampie, physical assault, crying, BRIEF murder threat, guilt, very brief praise n degradation mixed in

a/n: hiii! this is written w re2 leon in mind!! pls be aware there are quite graphic depictions of co-dependency n abuse in this one. it's late, so pls ignore typos !! title from bmth song of the same name

word count: 1.8k words

Leon wasn't the same man you knew before Raccoon City. When he first came home after his first day, he was clingy. He wouldn't leave you alone, following you around like a lost puppy. You didn't know the extent of what he went through at the beginning, but he slowly began to open up about the horrors he saw.

You were there for him. Of course you were. You let him stay at your place now his new apartment was left in ruins after the bomb hit. Not that he could stay in that godforsaken city, anyway. He still dreamt of the infected most nights, waking up in a cold sweat.

You could have handled that, if it was all it was. You wanted to be there for him, help him recover as best he could. You loved him, and you wanted him to be okay more than anything.

But he started changing. You couldn't so much as try and leave for the store without him crowding you against the wall, demanding to know exactly what you needed. If you were out and didn't answer his texts, he'd make sure to let you know you fucked up.

He wasn't above hitting you, gripping your throat until you almost passed out. Anything to keep you under his thumb, to make sure you wouldn't leave him. He'd seen too much death so early in his life.

He wasn't going to lose you, too.

You couldn't take it anymore. He controlled every aspect of your life. It was getting to the point that you'd flinch anytime he moved too fast. You hated being scared in your own apartment.

You tried bringing it up gently, tell him it just wasn't working out for you. After all, he'd be leaving for military training soon, and you needed to finish up your college studies and think about building a career.

You regretted it as soon as the words came out of your mouth.

“You think you get to leave me?” He says with a dry, humourless laugh. He stalks towards you like a lion cornering its prey, backing you up against the wall. He cages you in with his larger frame, looking down at you with a dark glint in his eyes.

“That's cute, baby. Really. You think you get a fucking choice?” The words are punctuated with a harsh grip on your throat, squeezing you so hard that your airflow is instantly cut off. You can feel the blood rushing to your face as you try and suck in a breath, your hands clawing at his wrists to try and get them off.

Your nails draw blood, and that just pisses him off even more. He yanks you towards him slightly by your neck before slamming you back against the wall, your head hitting it with a loud thud.

Pain shoots across your system, your vision blurry with the unshed tears forming. He lets go of your throat after another minute, watching with a sadistic glee as you crumple to the floor at his feet. He squats down, watching as you choke in air to fill your burning lungs.

“You're the only good thing left in my life, baby. You don't get to leave me.”

“You're crazy…” You gasp out, pushing on the floor to attempt to stand up again. He was dangerous. You needed to get out before he killed you.

His eye twitches at your words, and a foot goes flying for your stomach before you can even register it. You fall to the floor once more, sobbing as you curl in on yourself in a pathetic attempt to protect your body from more hits.

“I'm crazy?” He says quietly, an eerie sense of calm in his voice. He stands over you, placing his foot on your wrist before grinding the sole of his boot into your wrist, making you cry out in pain.

“I'm crazy?” He repeats louder this time, almost yelling at you. He yanks you up by your hair, dragging you into the bedroom and throwing you onto the bed. “You're the crazy one! You think this is bad, sweetheart? I can make you disappear.”

"You want to leave me, huh?" His breathing is hard and fast. "I'm crazy, huh?" The veins in his neck are bulging out, his hands fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

"I'll show you crazy."

Your entire body is shaking, but you have to get out. You have to get to your phone. You look at the door, and that was your worst mistake. In a flash, he's slapping you across the face hard enough that your ears ring, blood filling your mouth.

“Cute. Real fucking cute.” He hisses, grabbing your jaw roughly so you're facing him. He seems to get even angrier when he sees how terrified you look.

“Aww… baby. You're scared?” He coos, a mocking pout making its way to his lips. “You should be grateful. I'm keeping you safe. You have no right to be scared. If you knew what I've seen, what I've been through-”

He pauses to suck in a shaky breath through his teeth, images of the horrors he'd endured during Raccoon City flashing through his mind and making him feel nauseous.

“You should consider yourself lucky.” He says in a low tone, his expression hardening as he looks down at you. “You haven't been exposed to anything worth being scared of, princess.”

“Don't worry, though. I understand. I'll just have to fuck some sense back into you, hmm? Remind you of who's been by your side since day fucking one, keeping you safe.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and it seems to renew your fight. You struggle against him all over again, crying as you push and kick at his torso, thrashing as he pins you down on the bed. “Leon… Leon, no, wait… babe, fuck I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, m'so sorry, just…”

He shoves three fingers into your mouth, the tips jarring your throat and making you sputter and choke. There's a steady stream of tears running down your face at his point, your breaths heavy through your nose.

“Do you ever shut up?” He grunts, tugging down your pyjama pants and underwear, frowning when he sees you're not wet for him. That's new. Oh well. Wasn't gonna stop him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, coated with a mix of your blood and spit. He uses that to ease his way into you, pushing two fingers in straight away and spreading them inside of you to stretch you out for him.

“Leon, stop… that hurts.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and kicking your legs out weakly. He's not doing this for you. Doesn't try to hit your sweet spot or rub your clit to ease the discomfort like he usually does.

“One more word from you, and I swear to god, I'm going to break your pretty fucking neck.” He grunts, yanking his fingers out of your pussy to free his cock from his jeans.

You're nowhere near prepared enough to take him. You cry out in pain as he bottoms out in one thrust. He doesn't give you a second to adjust, nothing. He just starts thrusting, chasing his own high as he fucks into you.

Either you're getting wet, or you're bleeding. Whichever one it is, slick lines your pussy and makes his thrusts easier. He groans as he continues to rock his fat cock into your cunt, his head thrown back in pleasure.

His hands grip your thighs as you try and close them, holding them wide apart so he has full access to fuck you as much as he wants. You give up, going limp as he takes what he wants from you.

“There we go… shit, you feel so fucking good. Even when you say no, she sucks me right in.” He moans, his hips rabbiting even faster against you, the sounds of slapping skin filling the room.

“Such a… god.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Perfect little slut for me… pussy always squeezes me so good…”

His eyes flutter open, and he tilts his head down to take you in. He finally looks at your face and sees how much you're sobbing, the pure terror in your face. His brows furrow, and he frowns. He looks down further, trailing your body and noticing the bruise forming on your stomach. When his gaze reaches his cock and he sees the blood coating it, a look of panic flashes across his face for a second.

He seems to realise what he's doing, his expression switching to one of worry in an instant. His hips stutter, but don't stop. He pulls out just enough to spit on his dick, trying to make it hurt less for you. He starts to sob, his hands cupping your cheeks and caressing them softly.

"Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me." He says quietly, voice cracking halfway through the sentence. He feels sick when he sees your blood coating his length and has to swallow down the bile that rises in his throat. Doesn't make him stop, though. What the fuck is wrong with him?

"I didn't mean it. I swear. I just love you so, so much. I have nobody. Can't lose you, too." He breathes out, dropping his head against your shoulder as he ruts shallowly into you. “My pretty baby. Such a good girl. Don't wanna hurt you… hate seein’ you cry.”

You don't know how you end up comforting him, promising him it's okay even as your whole body aches and your insides burn with every thrust. It hurts to see him hurting. You'd rather take a beating than see him this broken. All it takes for him to cum is for you to say you love him, too.

He pulls out carefully, pressing kisses down your neck. You don't move. Don't speak. You couldn't, even if you wanted to. You're limp in his arms as he picks you up, cradling you carefully against his chest.

He runs you a bath, gently placing you into the hot, soapy water. He peppers kisses all over your face as the water washes away the blood and cum, soothing your aching muscles.

He keeps saying he's sorry, his eyes filled with remorse. He promises he won't do it again, but you know he will. As soon as you step a toe out of line, he'll snap again. You know you should leave. You'd be dead if he kept this up. But seeing that pain on his face, the way he trembles as he washes your hair tenderly…

You'd stay one more day. Just one more day…

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #dark content

[noassparetime]

RUN BABY RUN . ( leon kennedy x f﹗ reader )

LISTEN : this is extremely self indulgent﹐ i read haunting adeline and i ' ve pretty much been wanting to do this for a while .

PART 2

also if you want to be on a taglist﹐ comment below . <3

word count : 1225

WARNINGS : male masturbation﹐ stalking﹐ talk about being ╱ feeling like you ' re being watched .

AS USUAL NO MINORS UNDER THE LINE I HAVE THE FBI ON SPEED DIAL

my throat burns as i swallow the whisky . it ' s my fourth glass since i ' ve been here . i can ' t stand seeing her around other men . my perfect [ Y/N ] tainted by their energy . the way their hands grip her waist makes me sick .

i know what you ' re thinking﹐ " leon﹐ it ' s a funraiser﹐ she ' s being polite . " i know she is﹐ but while she ' s out there﹐ her innocence on display for every man in this room﹐ they ' re around her like vultures﹐ waiting for the second her guard is down .

but they don ' t know her like i do . they don ' t know the dirty things she says at night . they ' re drawn to her innocence﹐ but me﹐ i ' m drawn to her darkness .

the kind she only displays in her own space .

it ' s been four weeks since spain﹐ three and a half since ashley ' s party﹐ and three since i first saw [ Y/N ] . her father is in the secret service﹐ he was one of the men who helped ashley get back home﹐ she frequently visited him﹐ bringing him lunch﹐ a coffee﹐ whatever he needed .

god i still remember it like it was yesterday . her hair﹐ the way it shined in the sun﹐ the distinct scent i now know is gabrielle chanel radiating of her smooth skin . the way you could see her tummy pudge stick out of her dress ever so slightly . she was fucking perfect . and she will be mine .

what she doesn ' t know﹐ is that i ' ve successfully hacked into the camera system surrounding her very﹐ very gated neighbourhood . i know when she leaves﹐ when she comes home﹐ and if i angle it just right﹐ i can see right into her bedroom .

she ' s a little disorganised﹐ notebooks scattered all over her desk﹐ articles of clothing littering her bedroom floor . if she was mine﹐ she ' d never have to lift a fucking finger .

i ' m snapped out of my own head as a hand rests on my shoulder﹐ my neck cranking around to see the commissioner behind me .

" mr . kennedy . " he speaks﹐ his voice raspy﹐ his tone remaining stoic . " enjoying your day off﹖"

i watched as he sat next to me﹐ i offered him a nod﹐ it prompted a bellowing laugh﹐ his shoulders raising a little too much .

" always a man of few words﹐ huh . " he said﹐ gesturing at the waiter for another round .

it ' s not that i hated the commissioner﹐ i just knew what he did in the dark . he ' s been through three divorces﹐ his kids filed for emancipation  before they reached 16﹐ and all his ex wives have restraining orders . he was a drunk with itchy palms .

my eyes drift back to my little doll﹐ a bright smile never leaving her perfectly glossed lips as she kneels down﹐ studying a drawing one of the orphans shoved in her face . she volunteered at the children ' s home three times a week﹐ she was a fucking saint . her sundress clung to her body just right﹐ her curves on full display﹐ yet﹐ she was still dressed appropriately . her tits filled out the neckline just perfectly .

the commissioner spoke on next to me﹐ mumbling something about how i ' m just about the luckiest guy on earth for surviving that fucking village AND raccoon city . i ' ve heard it all before﹐ leon the wonder cop﹐ leon﹐ the raccoon city hero . i ' m sick of it . everyone notices me﹐ everyone but her .

she sits with the kid for a few more minutes﹐ helping them neaten up the drawing . my hands grow clammy as i see her stand up﹐ her eyes immediately meeting mine . her hips sway gently as she saunters over towards me .

" commissioner jordan﹐ mr kennedy . " she greets﹐ fuck my cock strains against my jeans at the sound of her voice . it ' s like angels are singing . " here to potentially adopt﹖" [ Y/N ] teases﹐ knowing full well the answer is a hard no .

" too many already . " the commissioner chimes in and i see something shift in [ Y/N ] ' s gaze . she doesn ' t like him either . she lets out a nervous laugh as she turns her attention to me . her eyes locked on mine . i shake my head﹐ a hand raising as i flash her a smile .

her mothers voice echoes from the back﹐ calling her name . she was the small town ' s golden girl﹐ she could do no wrong . she offered us a polite goodbye﹐ wishing us a good time as she turned around﹐ heading to her mom . i practically felt my pants grow tighter as i watched her walk away .

i left soon after﹐ heading back to my apartment . i undress﹐ now in just a pair of boxers as i settle in behind my setup . about five monitors take up the space on my wall . my eyes are glued to the screen﹐ waiting for her arrival . finally after what feels like a fucking eternity﹐ she comes home . i watch her make her way to her bathroom﹐ her bedroom giving me a front row seat to the show .

she steps in﹐ the water flowing over her perfect frame . i slowly ease my hand into my underwear﹐ stroking my length as the water makes its way between the valley of her perky tits﹐ down her stomach where it eventually disappears between her thighs .

a moan escapes my throat as my thumb runs over my sensitive tip﹐ the muscles in my legs tense from the sensation﹐ my eyes shut momentarily as i imagine the hand wrapped around my dick belongs to her . i open my eyes and my breath hitches in my throat at the sight .

my little doll hunched over ever so slightly as her head hangs﹐ one arm extended﹐ her hand planted against the wall for support as the other explores her cunt . this was a beautiful fucking moment . i follow her lead﹐ matching her pace as i jerk myself in unison . i can ' t hear her﹐ but i most certainly can imagine what she sounds like . moans like honey dripping from her tongue﹐ painting the room golden as she speeds up her movements .

a feel the familiar burn in my stomach﹐ my balls growing tighter as my chest heaves up and down﹐ she ' s close too﹐ her legs are shaking . i speed up﹐ chasing my high as she chases hers . such a good fucking girl .

i let out a breath as i reach my climax﹐ the muscles relaxing as ropes of cum shoot out of me﹐ coating my stomach just below my chest . my eyes are shut as i work on controlling my breathing . i open my eyes﹐ my vision blurry as i stare at her again . her knees buckle slightly﹐ her arms extending to catch herself before she falls . i chuckle .

if that ' s how she reacts to just her finger on her clit﹐ she has a lot waiting for her as soon as she ' s mine .

[ Y/N ] steps out of the shower﹐ drying her body off before getting dressed and into bed . i clean up my mess﹐ securing my underwear around my waist once again .

i can ' t take this anymore . she ' ll be mine by sunset tomorrow . i look at the screen one last time﹐ my finger grazing the pixels that make up her face .

" see you soon﹐ baby . "

#leon kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #re4 leon #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fic #yandere #yandere leon kennedy

[talenlee]

Goblin, Vandal, Sugg

Every word you’ve ever used comes from somewhere. The structures you use to discuss ideas is informed by ideas that came before it. I’m not getting all Sapir-Worf about this (and if you don’t know what that is, you don’t have to know because it’s probably not true), but rather wanting to draw your attention to the way the world you live in is in part defined by the words you use. If you’re an English speaker, there are ways you describe food that are a byproduct of French invasion centuries ago. Words like ‘technocrat’ and ‘hyperspecialised’ are constructions that borrow from how intellectuals used to use Latin. Your swear words are almost all from the poor working class, and used to describe sex, god, or excrement, and that’s not how all swear words work in all cultures!

Your world shapes your language.

In any given fantasy setting you work on, you don’t usually have the same linguistic history to justify why the people there talk like we talk now. In fact, to be completely fair, they probably don’t talk like us at all: you have fantasy languages, across fantasy constructions. Any given phrase a character in your world says is probably not using the exact same words as we are and we’re all working with a sort of fictionalised fantasy that makes the concepts reasonably translate across.

There’s a whole treatise then about how we handle Native American names and loanwords that we italicise like etouffee.

Point is that you have words, in your world, and you can attach stories to them. You’ve probably seen me talk about Orcs and how they relate to language and stereotypes, along in my long post on the word ‘Orc’. Here’s another set of examples I like for my world of Cobrin’Seil, as they pertain to the best little evolved raccoons, the Goblins.

The word ‘Goblin’

In Cobrin’Seil, most people speak two languages. Most people who speak only one language speak Common, and Common is full of loanwords from other languages. ‘Orc’ and ‘Beast’ are well known loanwords. There is a word that has risen in prominence throughout all the common-speaking countries in less than seventy years, and the word it displaced is still even in functional and legal use.

The word is both new and old; new to common, but an old word to the language it’s from. This word is Goblin.

Goblins are by no means new. They’re one of the three great old cultures of the world, a social symbiote culture that pretty much exists in any given settlement of any size. It’s usually seen as a sign of health that a community can sustain Goblins — in the same way that communities that lack pets are probably culturally alienated from all the cultures that do keep pets — and if you encounter an enclave that lacks goblins, it’s often because that enclave is specifically for a purpose and has done proactive things to drive out Goblin presence. Goblins are a culture that’s as old as Orcs, older than Ogres and even most of what you’d consider modern-day Elves.

But the word Goblin was not a word in common language and descriptors that was used in dictionaries and education and technical words, until what are known as the Peoples Reform. Not People’s Reforms – but the legal system of the Eresh Protectorate (which tends to set precedents most of the rest of the world follows) formalised the idea of Peoples. For most cultures, this didn’t make a lot of changes, but it did peel out of the laws one of the largest and long-standing carve-outs for Goblins that eroded the idea of their own cultural identity and heritage. The word Goblin is encoded as the term Goblins use to describe Goblins.

Linguistically, Goblin is a funny word. It’s an omniterm; without modification, it serves as noun, pronoun, verb, adjective, adverb and preposition and it does so in entirely intelligible ways to those contextually familiar. The sentence ‘Goblin goblin goblin goblin goblin’ is a meaningful sentence describing a party taking care of a third party because they see the commonality they have with one another. Good luck making that make sense in a sent letter though.

Goblin is possessive; in a lot of ways it can be translated to the common term ‘us,’ with some wiggle room. It’s also a comical non-answer; guards asking a Goblin ‘what are you doing?’ will often get the answer ‘goblin,’ which in this case means something like ‘being myself and doing what I should be doing,’ which is an answer but it is also unhelpful, and you have to understand how goblins communicate to get a handle on what that might mean. Goblin language is simple but contextual and it tends to highlight that goblins are extremely prosocial. Goblin language makes very little sense without the context of who is talking and about what.

There’s a real truth to the fact that many Goblins who have taken to theatre or art will write dialogue in Goblin but stage directions in Common.

But the word is new, legally, but the people aren’t. What was the change? Well, prior to the Peoples Reforms, the term the human kingdoms used for the people known as Goblins was the term Vandal.

The Word ‘Vandal’

You can’t kidnap a Goblin.

Legally, I mean.

This isn’t because Goblins were protected under the law, no no, the laws were way too racist for that. The crime was that, wherever you transported the Goblins to, the people didn’t want Goblins there, so you were committing a crime by inflicting Goblins on them. Basically, it was considered a crime to take a Goblin from one place to another, because the place the Goblin arrived didn’t necessarily consent to the presence of a Goblin.

The term for transporting a Goblin was based on an archaic term for Goblins that operated on the assumptions that Goblins were just a problem and a pest brought into any space. They were known as Vandals, a term hypothetically meaning all nonhuman troublesome cultures including Gnolls and Bugbears, because if those people arrived in a place, they’d wreck things. Funnily enough, Gnolls and Bugbears got removed from this term over time because they would usually, if it rose to legal levels, be committing much more dire crimes, and also, guards didn’t like just bullying them at random, since they were very big and tough people by comparison to the much smaller Goblin. Over time, ‘Vandal’ came to mean ‘Goblins, and behaving like a Goblin,’ and that association meant the legal term got ensnared around it. Ultimately, dropping Goblins off in a space that did not want them was the act of Vandalism. Vandal then, was a term used to not to refer to the Goblins themselves; much funnier, instead, it was the legal term for a person who committed the crime of nonconsensual transporting of Goblins.

During the Peoples Reforms, since this law already existed, the crime of Transporting A Goblin Nonconsensually remained on the books, but Kidnapping, as defined under laws, had its historical Goblin Carve-Out. Nowadays, kidnapping a Goblin is typically treated as Vandalism (Kidnapping), because tidying up old and technically incorrect laws is a lot of a pain in the butt. This even applies when the Goblins are lawyers, who as it turns out, delight in getting non-Goblins in trouble for ‘Vandalism,’ which is a catch-all term under Eresh law for ‘general goblin-like behaviour.’ And we’ll talk more about what makes something Goblin-like in the context of Cobrin’Seil another time.

The word ‘Sugg’

But there is a word, ambiguous in meaning and origin that exists in common, that most people know and that word is ‘sugg.’ It seems to indicate a sort of laziness, a restful state. If you see a Goblin curled up on a pile of playing cards, ears out, eyes closed, you might say ‘can’t use those cards, there’s a goblin sugging on it.’ Or ‘sorry man, I’m pretty sugg.’ The word is extremely ambiguous but it has a thread throughout it of being:

Indulgently lazy

Very relaxed

Overwhelming and absolute

The thing is, nobody’s too sure what it means, and when you ask people who would know, they tell you to ask a Goblin. Goblins, after all, are where the word comes from. In fact, if you ask the right goblins in the right trail you’ll find that while Goblins use the word ‘sugg’ in the same way, they think it comes from Common. Why?

Because Goblins got the word from this thing they found in established human communities. There’d be a nice small dark box, full of paper that you could just curl up in and nest in, and on the outside of the box, there’d be a notice: SUGGEST IN BOX. So they assume the Goblin who enjoys that box the most must surely be their sugg-est Goblin. Which meant paying attention to how they all sugg, and from there, the neologism was born.

Now, non-Goblins and Goblins alike use ‘sugg’, each convinced they got it from the other.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Cobrin'Seil #goblinposting #Goblins #World Building #Games #Making #Media

[candysharkart]

hi would u be willing to talk more ab ur belcher hcs that theyre all schizoaffective? :]

i can defs try! i cant promise i have really anything "smart" or insightful to say, cuz my husband and i just kinda draw from our own experiences :o

(if u are reading this and dont know what schizoaffective disorder is, im writing this w/ the definition of "a combination of schizophrenic symptoms and mood disorder symptoms like major depressive and bipolar disorder")

bob has felt the most schiz to us from the start, he's got his voices, which feel way more like he's acting as a mouthpiece for the objects he's talking to, rather than him just doing a bit. he knows its not "real" but also. it is to him. (i think hes also had some? hallucinations? but most are drug or stress induced and he also has a lot of cartoon dream sequences so...?) he struggles with paranoia and anxiety, and he's had pretty manic and depressive episodes in the show. i think he tries his best to stay grounded and self-aware with his delusions. he's very skeptical, and gets really irritated by misinformation. (probs also an affect of his autism tbh)

we also have a hc that he's more irritable and negative in the early seasons bc he's on meds that arent a good fit for him. (we dont really have meds hcs other than that. they might not be able to afford them)

linda's symptoms arent as obvious beyond her delusions like the raccoons and the cemetery stuff, but i think she's taught herself to suppress her issues so she could better support gayle who had more disruptive ones. her parents seem like the "stop being mentally ill its annoying" types. she has her own instances of paranoia and anxiety, but she mostly tries to smother and ignore anything negative she feels. VERY manic and impulsive tho. i think she also has some hallucinations in show but im drawing blanks on specifics.....

i would personally say tina is pretty depressive, but she's good at trying to cope in (mostly) healthy ways. her family is a good support system for her! she does have the most instances of visual hallucinations that arent cartoon bits (she seems to have them a lot when shes feeling guilty...) her anxiety and paranoia reminds me a lot of bob but also of gayle. they have similar outburts

gene has the least examples that i can think of.... i think he considers ken to be pretend and is just joking about him being real bc it annoys bob (compared to tina who thinks her horse Jericho is maybe...a little real) but i think he has some other hallucinations tht arent like that. hes surprisingly anti-social! he definitely often views himself as superior to the kids he knows. gets that from his dad lol. and his mania and impulsiveness are very much like linda :) he doesnt have depressive episodes as much as the others, but they hit him really hard :(

and louise! shes paranoid and has lots of aggression issues! to me she is also very depressed. (the puppet ep is esp relatable to me lol........) and she's VERY manic in the ambergris ep! i think she also has a couple instances of voices similar to bob's? but its kinda hard to tell the difference when shes still a kid who plays pretend with her toys. her talking to the taffy dummy feels more like what bob does tho.

i hope? thats the kind of hcs you were talking about? ive been trying to think of the right words for like 3 hours now. im very bad with words and so much of this stuff can also be attributed to other brain stuff, and one person can have a lot going on in one brain! so i hope i dont upset anyone with this post. thank u for ur time :)

#also gotta remember that its a Silly Jokes Cartoon so i dont really....think most of this is intentional #bob's burgers #hope this isnt. illegible word salad also. sorry......

[theseventrumpets]

♪ ♫ The Seven Trumpets Sound,   ♫ ♪

In a world similar to our own, but full of magic and strange differences, groups of cats gathered by the Four Deities of the Plain are surviving on their own, living in fear of the ones who made them who they are.

After the treacherous Age of Sin, led by the late Gooseheart of the Black, the Decks are unsure of how to handle their current situation. Bodies pile high as a cat was given the task of a God, and now the Decks must suffer from what it caused. With Valerianspade pronounced dead, The White suffering from rampant raccoon attacks, and The Red's Face being struck by visions and absent in action, the only thing the Decks have to look forward to is the next Messaging and Calling, to try and find answers...

►► Zero Trumpets Sing. ◄◄

At long last, The Seven Trumpets is finally open! A year has passed since I began planning this story, and I’m happy to say that I’m finally opening it to the public. I’m excited for this, and I hope you all are as well! The Seven Trumpets is an 18+ horror Warrior Cats Roleplay based around the concept of a biblical apocalypse, inspired by the album 'Until The Horror Goes' by the band John Congleton & The Nighty Nite. It uses a lot of horror themes, though mostly focuses on psychological horror and the idea of unreality and fear, and how those can drive characters to survive, or cease surviving entirely. This RP will focus on some darker topics, and gore will be featured from time to time. This RP may not be for the faint of heart, and I encourage you to make sure you can handle psychological horror before coming into this server! Although this RP is horror themed, it will not be purely angst and hardship. As the goal of the story is to stop an apocalypse, there will be themes of hope and light coming through the darkness, and characters finding the strength to keep pushing on even when everything is against them. Don't expect this server to be purely dark with no happiness, as that just wouldn't be fun for anyone to constantly deal with anxiety and pain and suffering all the time! If you’re interested, read below the cut to see more in-depth details about the server and story, or check out the links right below to get started on reading the lore, about the Decks, and so on. To join the RP, just go ahead and click the link to the Discord server! After you’re in, wait some time for our mods to check you over, and give you permission to join. There are no applications during Trumpet 0, unless the count of people joining gets too high to handle. Anyway, have fun, and I hope to see you there!

♪♫♪► WEBSITE ► RULES ► SEND AN ASK ► DISCORD LINK ♪♫♪► SERVER ADOPTS ► ALLEGIANCES ► LORE ON TUMBLR

"To indeed be a god, to indeed the pale white horse, With you we turn the mountains, went upside down, with you it's a force."

Here’s what you can expect from this RP:

► Oh god, there’s elemental magic built into the cats. ► It all takes place entirely in a world of my own, so there’s a shitton of worldbuilding! ► Paranormal and supernatural activities, including Gods and... Mothman? ► Non-feline animals are allowed in limited quantities! ► There’s no Starclan, just Ad Infinitum and it’s subsections! ► A completely overhauled and hand-crafted Warriors ranking system! ► A mostly liquid time based RP, both in events, roleplay, and aging! ► Morally dubious and evil characters allowed in certain quantities! ► Neurodivergent/mentally ill/physically disabled characters are allowed with no restrictions or paywalls! ► Currency system to add rare traits to your cats, AND MORE! ► Fun games, like a drawing game, trivia game, and an in-character question game, which give you points for currency!

Here's a brief rundown of how the server and story is going to be run: There will be multiple arcs in the story, each defined by a trumpet. Each trumpet will be a different arc. Within these arcs, there will be a generally planned plot to follow, but it won't be completely set in stone, and things can change based on how the players themselves interact with the story and choose to make it flow. That's right baby, this WILL be player driven! There will be a lot of player-mod interaction as the players work with each other to make the story flow, and the mods will be there to make sure their RPs and adventures and questions will be rewarding in the end! Everyone is supposed to feel important in some way, and we will make sure everyone gets their time to shine--as long as they want it, at least.

There will be major events that players can participate in, and there will be special happenings that players can go through--kind of like choose your own adventure type scenarios, just as a special addition to the general roleplaying experience. We don't want anything to get boring or tedious, so be sure to let us know how you're feeling about the RP and the plot itself, as player feedback is VERY necessary in a place like this!

The RP itself takes place in southern Illinois, by the Mississippi river, and not too far away from St. Louis. The Plain of Revelation contains four Decks: The Pale Spades, the Black Hearts, the Red Diamonds, and the White Clubs. The White Clubs are a prideful and dramatic Deck based around secrets and facades, the Red Diamonds are a skill and family-oriented Deck based around pairings and symbols, the Black Hearts are a unified and empathetic Deck based around goals and achievements, and the Pale Spades are an orderly and strange Deck based on promises and vows. They all have their own unique quirks that make them special, ranging from some worshipping the food they eat, to others painting stories in caves to remember history. All are open to join, and all are happy to accept new members!

#wcrp #warrior cats rp #discord wcrp #discord warrior cats rp #warriors rp #wcrpg #wc rp #wc rpg #theseventrumpets #the seven trumpets #7trumpets #the7trumpets #open wcrp #open applications #applications open #open wcrpg #pin #important #t0

[demi-shoggoth]

On Role Models

I'm a Biology teacher, and tonight is open house. Because I teach AP, so I get to do much higher level stuff than the usual freshman Bio class, I'm giving a lecture instead of the more freeform approach most teachers take. That lecture is titled "How I Hacked My DNA, and You Can Too". And I'm going to talk about how your body is a constant dialog between cells of different types, including a whole ecosystem living in your large intestines. Thinking about human life in terms of evolutionary theory can help us understand those interactions better. Homo sapiens humans are the last humans standing because they were the ones that moved into marginalized habitats and found new and creative ways to gather food. There's a reason why human cities attract "specialized generalists" like foxes, rats, crows and raccoons. It's because those animals are also good at living in the margins. And so your health, mood, and life will be better if you remember that you're an omnivore with lots of different systems that draw from your diet and your gut bacteria, so take care of them. Eat more fermented foods, eat a wider variety of foods, supplement them with small doses of targeted vitamins and minerals rather than chugging down a bottle of pills every week.

And I'm introducing this with the story of Josiah Zayner.

If you watched "Unnatural Selection" on Netflix, Zayner is a major figure. They are a biohacker, and were experimenting with using CRISPR to modify the genes of people in vivo. Specifically, by selling DIY CRISPR kits at cost, and injecting themselves with myostatin blocking genes in order to give themselves huge muscles. And I watched "Unnatural Selection" and thought, that's a supervillain origin story. That's if the Green Goblin was a hipster.

But Zayner also recognized that they were on a dark path. Once they realized that letting untrained people possibly do permanent damage to themselves was a bad idea, and when corporations started sniffing around on how to monetize it, Zayner took a step back. And understood that their attempt to go full super serum was because they were dissatisfied with their appearance.

This is Jo Zayner now. She/they, emphasis on the she, just like I am. And now they're working on projects to make transition and playing with gender expression safer and easier, like biochemical breast implants that degrade in 48 hours. And she's working on making vaccines that are safer and have less side effects and you don't have to go through a big corporation to get them.

Now, Jo Zayner is one of my heroes. And I'm going to share that story with a roomful of parents and students, and I wanted to share that with you.

#self care #biology #jo zayner #biohacking #biochemistry #science side of tumblr

[eddiemunsxn]

eddie seeing reader isnt having the best day so he leavers her love notes everywhere and by the end of the day she just in a puddle in eddies lap

— don’t dream it’s over.

masterlist. / nav.

warnings. fem!reader, depression, angst

word count. 1085

note. expanded the timeline a bit i hope you don’t mind, nonny ♥️

That old villain, your own mind, dragged you down to its lair—full of darkness the sun couldn’t kill, and echoing with cruel taunts; a deeply set cave system you tried to get out of. But there were so many tricky passages.

You were quiet, even in company—even during D&D, and that’s how Eddie knew. It was the first sign.

As one often looked to the sky for weather, he noticed any change in you right away. The moment your clouds grayed and smothered the expansive blue, he was there to make sure you didn’t cry your rainfalls alone. He didn’t stay out from under your skies, no matter how dark. He would stand in your tears and listen to your thunder because he loved you.

“I’ll catch up with you sheeps in a bit.” Eddie lightly smacked Gareth’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

The boys and Erica left the theatre room, their clamor muffled as the doors closed.

Lingering with you, Eddie turned to you, the overhead stage lights haloing him. He reached a hand up to your face, grazing the back of his knuckles against your cheek—his rings a cool kiss. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, his softness echoing in his eyes.

“I don’t feel good,” you said. “In my head.”

His hand fell away to draw along the length of your arm, and he took both of your hands in his. “Do you wanna talk about it, or be distracted?” He rubbed a thumb over your knuckles.

“I think…distracted. I don’t have the energy to talk about it tonight.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled, dimples pinching his cheeks. He understood, and he’d wait for you.

The next day during lunch, as you opened your bag of food, you noticed he kept glancing between you and the bag. He nibbled on his pretzel, eyes alight and smiling beneath his lashes.

You pulled out a piece of paper, and his messy handwriting read: you look pretty today. I like you in blue.

The compliment was simple, but enough to beckon tingles of tears to your eyes. You smiled wide, pressing your lips into a thin line as your throat tightened. You had needed such soft things right now.

Eddie reached over to you, taking your hand in a firm, but gentle hold as if to say, I’ve got you.

During class he always passed notes to you (which is why his notebook pages looked as if they were ravaged by raccoons), but this time they weren’t just flirty or funny.

As usual, he was casual about handing the folded note to you, staring forward to act as if he was paying attention to the blackboard. Once you had the note, he hunched forward, hiding behind the student in front of him. He rested his cheek against his hand and angled his head to look at you.

Keep going. You’re not alone. I’m here for you, and so are so many others. Here’s some paper kisses until I can give you real ones.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you felt a little more energized. You met his eyes.

Eddie shaped a heart with his hands and playfully peeked through, closing one eye and puckering his lips.

You tried to stifle a bubbling giggle, and blew him a kiss.

He made a catching motion, and—pretended to eat the kiss? He ballooned his cheeks and chewed, the edges of his eyes crinkling from his smile.

He was doing it on purpose. He wanted to make you laugh and smile, and it was working.

Both of you almost got in trouble.

After the night’s D&D campaign, it was you and him in his room. Lying down, you were tucked under his blanket, having it pulled up to your nose. It smelled of him; weed and cheap cologne.

Eddie sat criss cross next to you with his Warlock NJ. He played the chords to Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over”, softly singing the lyrics.

You watched the way the Metacarpal bones in his hands moved—admired the swell of his veins, like swollen scratches.

“There's a battle ahead. Many battles are lost, but you'll never see the end of the road while you're travelling with me…Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over…”

Your battle was with your mind—that old villain, the Captain Hook terrorizing your Neverland. You wanted to enjoy your youth without the cruelty of growing up with these thoughts. Why did some kids have to get so wise, so young? Why did some have to fight more than others?

But Eddie was there with you. Battles were never fought with just one soldier.

“You know they won't win…Don't let them win.”

Those lyrics did you in. Don’t let those thoughts win. Hot tears blurred your vision, and something squeezed your chest—strained noises of pain. You tried to restrain them, and pulled the blanket up over your face.

Eddie stopped playing the song, set his guitar on the ground against the mattress edge, and moved closer to you. He gently pried away the blanket from your wet face, and brushed away strands of hair sticking to your skin.

“C’mere, c’mere,” Eddie soothed, gathering you onto his lap.

You girded your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and trembled as if plagued by low blood sugar.

Eddie placed a hand on the back of your head, rubbing your back. His rings bumped over your spine. “Let it all out,” he whispered, laying his cheek against your head as he rocked you side to side. “Let it out. You’re safe.” He angled his head to touch his heated lips to your temple. “You’re loved. I got you, I got you.”

As your body calmed from twitches and deep, shaky intakes of breath, Eddie moved his hands to your face—gently encouraging you to look at him.

You were raw—pink and puffy like a newborn. Not everyone cried as pretty as an actress, or a woman in comics.

“You’re beautiful to me. Don’t let those thoughts win, okay? Easier said than done, I know. But you’re not fighting alone. You never are, and you don’t have to. Don’t be afraid to ask me for help. I’m always here.”

When he saw more tears gloss your eyes, he pressed his lips to your forehead, and then peppered butterfly kisses on your nose, mouth, and the pulse below your jaw.

He hugged you to him, arms tight around your waist. “I love you.”

tags. @lilywoood

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[thefeathercollective]

"ohhhh why do I feel like shit with no motivation and it's only me when I front" excuse me eva I get that our life is a bit of a mess rn but you have not been drawing in your style, you haven't been eating the snacks you like, you're barely dressing like yourself, haven't been watching stuff only you enjoy on youtube, haven't listened to your playlist lately, haven't done your stims and your fav blogs haven't updated in a while (the latter is the only thing you have no control over). "why is screen enjoying himself so much in the same situation what's his secret" dude I'm valuing my individuality here!! this is the secret! when-- I think it was the equinoxian systems who posted it? when they posted the thing about it being so important to be yourselves, to have your own silly little items and hobbies and things that are yours, this is what they meant! you're miserable because you haven't been allowing yourself to be you!!

where's the eva that's so loud and out there about punk stuff, making patches, picking things off the street? where's the eva that identifies as dead but has never been more alive? where's the eva with the wonderful and unique art style and appreciation for every tag and piece of graffiti you see? where's the eva that takes so much joy in that tank top that makes us look masc and in painting eyebags on our face to the point where we look like a raccoon?

I get that you're in a bit of a rough spot right now and I'm here with you through it but nothing's gonna change if you're just doing the bare minimum to keep us alive and not enjoying the fact that you're here, y'know? I don't want you to forget what a wonderful person you are..

umm this has been an open letter lmao

#screen.headmate #pluralgang

[yama-uba]

Mystery Ranch by Midjourney

This was the most interesting interaction with Midjourney. I described my fantasies to the neural network and offered references, and it drew something third, at the same time similar and different from the original idea. So that's how it feels to write a book and then make a movie out of that book. ATTENTION: this selection of pictures is desirable to listen to the accompaniment of Bryan Adams - Where I Belong.

Of course, the tags did not leave any intrigue, but still it would be interesting to go from the opposite: to imagine the personality and appearance of the owner of this whole place.

Why does he live so far from civilization in the space age?

What is he hiding here? Who is rich enough to own all of this? Did he build everything himself?

Who owns all these colza, corn fields and elevators? (Yes, I think Durossian fields look like this because of the irrigation system and the convenience of agricultural droids)

We're getting really close...

Here is the place. It seems that the owner is not at home, otherwise, as befits local customs, he would have already shot us on the way to his property.

Especially now, in the spring, when his 11 milky "lil ladies" are preparing to become mothers. In no case should they be disturbed. By the way, an interesting fact: Midjourney perfectly understands the difference between black angus and jersey breeds of cows, drawing some rectangular and triangular, respectively. However, the neural network does not understand what a bifalo is and always draws bison.

Okay, if we are still pulling "our death" by its breathing tubes, then why not look through the windows of the first floors?

This is where Midjourney and I had a misunderstanding. I didn't know how to remove the stuffed of "sacred cow" for gray aliens from the pictures (you know, gray aliens, crop circles, sounding and stealing cows...they adore cows so much that they have learned to metabolize lactose). And American rustic implies an abundance of stuffed animals and horns in itself. The hunter is such a hunter. And I was never able to squeeze a good photo out of Midjourney with "a collection of Stetson and Akubra on the walls and in the showcases." Once ai showed me a classic American Boy Scouts raccoon hat with a striped tail, but I couldn't get it to repeat.

The most important thing is not to start looking at these pictures, so as not to see strange things (especially with stuffed animals).

Guest bathroom. Looks cozy... and extremely illogical.

Next comes the memory loss. And, if we see this, it means that we are either one of the Nelvaanian women that Bane bought for himself as domestic housekeepers, or we were left in the meat ripening chamber so that the corpse would not spoil until the ranch owner returned.

I am absolutely convinced that duros adore earth cows to the level of absurd stereotypes.

Okay, this was Cad Bane's house. Otherwise, everything is with his "working lairs", of which he has a myriad of in all corners of the galaxy, even on that unknown side of the galactic attractor. And the contents of these apartments are more... ascetic .

I think it’s better to describe even just a photo from the Internet:

The box is the property of Todo. He's charging into it.

And this is what Boba's room looked like when the duros was his mentor. These spartan conditions prepared the guy well for the fact that then he had to live in Sarlac for some time, until finally dropped that damn rope to him)

Most importantly, men really do not see anything strange in this.

It's all drawn by Midjourney, it's all yours and Midjourney's.

#star wars #ai art #ai generated #cad bane #boba fett

[caffeinated-rants]

Those of you who still have grandparents to visit, to share memories with, and to spend time with... cherish what time you have left with them. You never know how fast life can turn them into someone who doesn't recognize you or them into someone you don't know.

.

I never, ever would wish dementia on anyone. Not even those who to this day I still hold a deep anger and disdain for. Watching someone you love wither away before their body gives out is worse than having their death be sudden. You essentially have them die twice, first figuratively and then literally.

.

Friday, my grandma fell and fractured her hip. Saturday she went in for surgery and had 3 screws put in. Mom and I visited her after I got off work today and I have NEVER seen my grandma this bad off...

She was weaned off of the morphine, and they tried to give her Tylenol and she's refusing the meds. She's refusing to eat or drink. She hardly can keep her eyes open. He can barely talk more than a few words. When I was in the hall talking with my grandpa she started yelling for him to help her and save her.

They even had my grandpa fill out that pink paper already regarding what to do if her heart stops. He already has it to not resuscitate and not to implement any feeding tubes.

They've tried to at least get her to sit up to hang her legs off the edge of the hospital bed and she even refuses that...

They have her hooked to an ice machine for her hip, they plan to do an IV drip for the Tylenol since she wont take the pills, and they have something similar to a cathedar for her since she keeps wetting the bed. It's like a pad with suction that drai s the urine into a container. Over that pad she has a second, normal pad to keep any urine from getting on the bed.

I know it's only the first day after her surgery, and my mom is hoping her behavior is just because the morphine is still working it's way from her system, but... after seeing her like this.... I really don't think she has that long....

My grandpa even said he doesn't think she's going to recover from this...

My grandpa doesnt let anyone see him emotional. He didn't even let himself choke up in front of us when his own mother passed. He was talking to me while my mom was trying to get grandma to talk to her and I hugged him and he cried. Not hard, because he did hold back, but he choked up and shed a couple tears... and that got me.

My grandma is the one who really encouraged my artwork and was enthusiastic about my progress... she bought my first drawing tablet because she saw the mouse-done stuff back when me and my friends were all doing bases... She didn't understand anime all that much, but she knew Sailor Moon... and she really encouraged me to go down this style path... and she always defended me when I brought up the fact that my teachers discouraged it... and she was an artist in many forms, herself. She had done fantastic oil paintings and did almost realistic animals on rocks based on the size of rock... frogs... raccoons... deer curled up to sleep.... she made my sister's clothes for a while when growing up... she did jewelry making and made clay beads herself and worked with metals and leather for bracelettes... she even did glass blown beadwork for a while and made her own glass bean necklsces.... and now she can't can't color in a coloring book....

[the-dead-skwad]

Rewind X Bucky Barnes X Reader

Hello again, apologies this is a little rushed I did it all in a day. Let e know if I should do a part 2 because I'm thinking about it.

Summary: A hangover from hell, was last night worth remembering?

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, implied sex

His hand tightened in your hair, a soft moan escaped your lips. “Bucky.” You whispered.

You reached down to touch the bulge in his pants “Y/N” He moaned back. “Y/N!” His voices got louder “Y/n!”

You opened your eyes to Steve “Y/N?”

“God my head hurts, what you doing Steve?”

“You were talking in your sleep and I made you coffee.”

“Oh thanks,” You sat up and looked around “Why am I on the couch?”

“Just before I went to bed I saw Bucky bringing you back in over his shoulder. I don’t think you were sober enough to make it to your bed.”

You flopped back into the couch “Looks it, hang on did you say I was talking in my sleep?”

He coughed uncomfortably and took a sip of his coffee “Yep.”

“Oh shit, sorry. Thank you for waking me though.”

“Didn’t think you would want anyone else to hear you.”

You would have been more embarrassed had you not been so hungover. “So..” He quickly tried to change the subject “Remember much of last night?”

“Bits and pieces.. Dancing, shots.. a lot of shots. Did I go to a night club?”

“Yeah you said that Shuri had never been to one, so you made Bucky take you, Sam came too. I think they tried to watch over you.”

“Oh Shuri! Did she get home ok?”

He shrugged “So so, she did throw up on the way home.”

“I tell you what I wouldn’t enjoy a spaceship in the state I was in.”

“You know if you don’t remember much you could always you know… do the thing.” He gestured to your eye.

You laughed lightly “You know I only have a robotic eye, it’s not that weird.”

“When you get to my age it will be.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be that old, unless I become full cyborg, and besides I’m not sure if I’m ready to relive last night just yet.”

Chuckling he got up from his seat “I’m going to make a dirty fry up, you want one?”

“You life saver, I’ll jump in the shower while you do that. Need to wash last night off me.”

He shook his head at you as you left. “Get Sam and Bucky too I bet they’ll need one.” He called after you.

You walked slowly down the hallway. Different noises came from each room, video games was Peter, Sam was snoring, Nat was working out, god knows what noises were coming from Rockets room and then Bucky’s. You stopped for a second outside his door. Should you say thank you for helping you last night or did you make a massive fool out of yourself. Probably should find out what you did first.

Stripping off in your bathroom you got your dress up passed your face and then nothing. You stood there, eye fogging up, dress trapping your arms in the sky. You pulled pushed and wiggled. Standing on a slippery tile your legs went from under you. As you went to the floor your head hit the sink. “Ah fuck!” You shouted. You lay there with your dress still stuck over your head contemplating your options when you heard a voice from your bedroom.

“Hello?” You called out.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky! I’ve fallen.” You called out to him.

Your door swung open and you felt his hands pull the dress off you. “What the hell are you doing?”

“My dress wouldn’t.. the water .. floor tiles.” You made a weird gesture and noise simulating you falling.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” You were suddenly aware you were just in your undies.

“Your heads bleeding.” He grabbed a towel and put it against the wound on the side of your head.

“Thank you,” You put your hand over his that was holding the towel “And thank you for last night.”

“Don’t be silly, the state you were in I was not letting you run wild through the city.”

You laughed “Smart choice. How bad was I?”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Bits and pieces, Caps making me a fry up. I told him I was going to jump in the shower then get it.”

“You sure you’re ok? I can get someone to look at your head.”

“I’ll be fine.” You started to get up.

He stopped you from wobbling “You sure you’re good?”

“No idea till I watch the night again.”

The colour drained out of his face “You sure you want to see that? I can give you the highlights.”

“Maybe that’s a better idea.” You took the bloody towel from him “Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it.” You smiled as he left you in the steamy bathroom.

Finally stepping in the shower you let the water cascade over you. You could almost feel the alcohol washing off your skin. Opening your eyes you almost wobbled again. The alcohol and the head wound were really making you dizzy. After washing out all the shampoo you jumped out.

You wrapped the towel around you and stepped carefully back into your room. You threw on some sweatpants, vest and a soft cosy cardigan. You searched the desk by your bed until you finally found the paracetamol. Throwing some back you flopped onto your bed.

Images flashed in your mind. The dream you had had felt so real. You saw yourself dancing in the club but in your mind you could feel a hand. It started soft and then slowly worked his way over your hip. Maybe that’s why Bucky didn’t want you to watch it. Maybe he got jealous and fought the guy.

You constantly glanced over to your desk. Steve would have saved your food by now and if not it was burning. You had made this mistake before, watching after a night out, seeing how embarrassing you were. You even got into a fight with a man dressed as a Raccoon. Something about it being offensive. Which Rocket found highly amusing. This all felt different, like you were forgetting something important.

After a few moments of contemplating you dragged yourself off the bed. Sitting at your table you called out “Hey Friday.”

“Morning Miss Y/L/N”

“How many times have I told you to call my Y/N..”

“How can I help Y/N?”

“I’m about to plug in my eye, can you show me the footage of last night.” You took your eye between two fingers and pulled it out, then put on the patch from your desk draw. You plugged it into the system.

“Where would you like to start?”

“Ermm,” You moved your patch around till it stuck in the right place. “Let’s start at around 1am I’m sure that was around the time I left for the city.”

“Oh god,” You laughed at what you saw.

“Shhhh. They have no idea.”

You were pouring shots in the back of the car. Shuri was up front hanging her head out the window while you and Sam were doing ‘secret’ shots. It was very obvious that Bucky could see what you two were doing. Looks like you had gotten Sam drunk too.

“Forward 2 hours please.”

Now at the bar, probably not the best idea. Music booming through your speakers was making your head feel worse. “Friday can your turn it down please.”

“Of course, your vitals are looking low do you need me to ask someone to make you food?”

“No I’m…” You stopped as you saw what you were looking for. You were dancing your hips swung back and forth to the music. Sam and Shuri were having a blast by you. But you were looking across the room, Bucky sat there looking at you. Swirling a glass of whiskey. You turned and danced even more. That’s when the hands found your body, you saw the shine of the metal. You turned in his arms and danced with him, your body entwined with each other and the music.

You thread your hands through his hair and brought your face closer to his. Before anything could happen you pulled away. Taking his hands in yours you walked together to a back VIP room. The pair of you leapt at each other pulling and grasping at your clothes like animals.

“Pause!” You called out. Putting your head in your hands you took a deep breath in. It wasn’t a dream. You turned your head towards your door. “Bucky?”

Leaning on the door frame he smiled at you “Hey.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #bucky barnes #mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #the avengers

[thefanficmonster]

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear  📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go. 

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

#resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re8 #re village #re8 village #resident evil chris #resident evil chris redfield #re chris redfield #re chris #chris #chris redfield #chris redfield fanfic #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x oc #chris redfield imagine #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #leon kennedy #ethan winters #mia winters #rose winters #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #fluff #romance #request

[robots-and-writing]

You're Holy to Me pt.2

Human AU! MTMTE Tarn

_ woke up to the warmth of sunlight hitting their face. Yawning languidly, they had never felt so comfortable in their life. Since when was their bed this plush? They couldn't bring themself to care until they attempted to find their phone on their nightstand and were met with an empty table. Not only that, as they opened their eyes they were shocked to find that they weren't even in their own house.

The room they were in reminded _ of a castle, luxurious and grand. It was practically fit for royalty with its four poster bed cozy lounging area. But when _ sat up to look around, they swayed in their spot. Their body felt weak and their head swam, but with a few more attempts _ managed to stand up only to fall flat on their face. I... why can't I move?

"Oh dear, are you alright?" _ grasped the gloved hand that reached out to them, but when they saw who came to help them their blood ran cold. A dark purple mask may have concealed his face but _ wasn't stupid. Even babies knew not to mess with a Decepticon, much less the Decepticon Justice Division.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" They couldn't stop their voice from quavering, or their body from trembling, but that's only natural when you're face to face with a murderer. The terrifying man shook his head, still holding his hand for them to grab.

"I am not here to hurt you, _."

"But that's what Decepticons do!"

"Now isn't the time for assumptions about my cause, _. You're here for a very important reason which I will explain in due time. Might I be able to help you up?" _ accepted, letting Tarn pull them up and assist them in walking to the couch. It's not like they could refuse the leader of the DJD. He was oddly gentle with them, making sure they didn't collapse again as they sat down.

"Now I'm sure you were startled to wake up in an unfamiliar room but I can explain why you were brought here."

"You're really not going to hurt me?"

"I won't let anyone harm you as long as I live. That's a promise. In fact that's precisely the reason you're here." Tarn had seated himself across from _ and leaned towards them ever so slightly. "_. You are someone I can't bear to lose. From the moment I met you, I knew I had to do anything to keep you at my side. After all, the only way I can completely assure I never lose you is to protect you myself."

"Then where am I?"

"You're at my base. I can make it so everything you could ever want is at your fingertips here. We have a pool, state-of-the-art sound systems, and an entire library of music and literature for-"

"I want to go home." Tarn didn't seem surprised to hear _'s protests at their new situation. He only leaned back in his seat with as far as _ could tell was a smile on his face.

"Oh _. This is home." His tone was soft, but firm. He would not be budging on this. He moved on quickly to the next topic, likely trying to distract them. He made sure they were alright, asking them if they were in any pain and if they remembered at all how they arrived at their new room. _'s responses were short as Tarn expected. It would take some time before they would trust him enough to confide in him but he was happy to wait. He had all the time in the world, and with no one in his way to get in the way of the two of them it was only a matter of time before they stayed with him out of sheer isolation.

"Now _, I am afraid I must take my leave. Besides I'm certain you're anxious to explore your new living quarters. If you need to talk to me all you need to do is text me and I'll be here in a flash, alright?" There was nothing _ could do but nod as Tarn bid them goodbye. At least whatever chemical was used to subdue them had mostly worn off by the time he was gone. And after a detailed examination of the room they were in and the rooms connected to it _ had made a few observations.

First was that the door their captor had left through was locked tight with only a tiny gap underneath. There wasn't even a way to pick the lock, as it was likely located on the other side of the door. The windows were a bust too, as though they were open, they had a protective screen on the other side that would need to be broken to get through. It probably wouldn't be best to anger Tarn by even trying as he seemed incredibly insistent that they stay in their suite.

They also figured out that Tarn wasn't lying when he said that everything _ had ever wanted was there. There was a kitchenette with every one of their favourite snacks, a wardrobe full of clothes on their shopping list, (Notably all the clothes would be impractical to attempt an escape in.) And a beautiful artists desk complete with all the most lavish and expensive art supplies they had only dreamed of before. It was uncanny really, how Tarn knew every one of their wants. That was most likely not a coincidence considering who he is and how seemingly obsessed he was with them.

The third observation was not only was there everything they had ever wanted, there was everything they would ever need. Tarn had certainly planned for every possible outcome. There was a first aid kit, fire extinguisher, air conditioning and heating control, and there was even a tablet left on the table that could only do one thing. Call Tarn.

It was sickening really, the lengths he went to make everything perfect. The entire time _ was searching the room it was all so eerily familiar until a nauseating realization hit them at full force. All the clothes? _ had bookmarked them online or mentioned them at some point. The snacks? _ had been dealing with what they assumed was a raccoon digging through their food trash, but the reality of it was far, far more disturbing. Even the desk was something they had been saving up for for a long time, something they assumed they would never be able to afford. "From the moment I met you, I knew I had to do anything to keep you at my side."  Tarn hadn't been lying about doing anything to keep them.

He was watching me.

He was listening to me.

Once again they dropped to the floor but this time it wasn't because of any chemical. Their thoughts were racing faster and faster, trying to think of any time they had seen him before, any break ins, but their mind was drawing a blank. It made sense really. He's the leader of the DJD, stalking is what he does. It wasn't like setting up bugs and cameras would be all that hard for someone like him to get done. For all they knew he could have gotten one of his lackeys to do it for him. Considering their situation, it was likely Tarn was still watching and listening now as they cried on the floor.

Not that he particularly cared. He could lounge in his office and watch _ as he pleased. A few tears were expected in the long run. His plan had worked. _ was with him, and they would never leave.

#tw: kidnapping #tw: manipulation #tw: stalking #tw: possessive behavior #tw: yandere #tarn no #mtmte tarn #idw tarn #mtmte #maccadam #Transformers #djd #Decepticon Justice Division

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Liftoff

Summary: An alternate Infinite Darkness in which Shen Mei chooses a different person to partner with, Claire takes a more active role, and Leon turns to the dark side (only for a little while).Or: What if Jason had gotten to Leon with his 'fear into terror' speech, and Shen Mei had teamed up with Claire to put a stop to them both?

Notes: Canon typical violence, guns, explosions, threats. Spoilers for Infinite Darkness. (Help I’ve only loved Cleon for a day and I’m already writing angst fic for them!)

AO3

~

T-minus 30 Seconds

The first time Leon pointed a gun at her, fear flooded Claire. She’d barely heard his command until it was too late; her nervous system was going haywire, lighting up like a Christmas tree. He had shouted for her to duck and Claire had and Leon had pulled the trigger and saved her life. It’s been the same way the whole time they’ve known each other since; she gets into trouble and Leon tells her to get to safety and she listens or sometimes she doesn’t and sometimes it’s the other way around and she saves Leon instead, but in the end they both survive. That’s how they work. That’s how Claire thought they would always work.

This time, staring down the barrel of a gun with Leon S. Kennedy at the other end of it, Claire isn’t so sure they’ll both get out of this.

~

T-Minus 72 Hours

Witnessing a dead body is something Claire hates she’s gotten used to. Chris always gets that pinched, wan look on his face when she talks about what sights Raccoon City had to offer her, but she can’t help what happened any more than he can. The dead walked and Claire witnessed and then the whole thing went to hell in a handbasket all thanks to the U.S. government. If they had it their way, Penamstan is going to go the same way.

Claire resists the urge to tear down the papers swimming before her eyes. Instead she groans and rips her glasses off her nose, pinching her forehead. Her eyes throb but she knows she won’t find any sleep soon. The answers are here, have been staring her in the face for days or weeks, and she still can’t see them. “There has to be something I’m missing…”

A thump on the stairway outside has her spine snapping straight, ice flowing in her veins. Hurriedly, she snatches a lamp from the bedside table and yanks the cord out of the wall. She just has enough time to slip behind the door and ready herself before it opens with a quiet creak. The person on the other side is light-footed and sure, moves with the grace of years of training. They’re smaller than Claire thought they would be, just a slip of a shadow in the dark of her motel room. They are alone.

Claire lets out a grunt as she knocks the door closed with her elbow and brings the lamp down as hard as she can. The ceramic cracks and splinters from the force of her blow, but even though the body goes down with Claire on top of it, whoever it is still struggles. A fist catches against her shoulder and even though Claire manages to catch the other fist in her own hand before it connects, she wishes she had any of her firepower from Raccoon City with her now. The person beneath her bucks and twists, wiry muscle instead of the bulk Claire is used to fighting against. They slip their wrist from her hold before she can let out more than a cry of frustration, and a punch to the solar plexus doesn’t seem to slow them down for but a moment.

The darkness whirls in front of her eyes as Claire is flipped onto her back. Her head knocks harshly against the bureau in the room, stars erupting in her vision. Claire gasps, gags on the sudden nausea, and kicks out. Her foot connects with something boney, but it’s a glancing blow at best. Claire has survived too much to die in some shitty Washington motel room.

Long hair brushes Claire’s cheek as the person leans down; dark eyes glitter in the low light above her. “I don't want to hurt you,” the stranger says, and Claire laughs in her face.

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that before,” she spits.

“You are Claire Redfield.”

“Yeah, no shit!”

“You are investigating the Mad Dogs and their involvement in Penamstan. You know there was an outbreak there.”

That brings Claire up short. Her lungs burn and her breath is coming too fast, but the knock to her head doesn’t smart enough to make her believe she’s got a concussion. Hell, her ears aren’t even ringing. “So what? You gonna kill me for what I know? What I’m getting close to?”

“Claire Redfield, you know nothing.” The stranger raises her head and suddenly her weight lifts off of Claire. Claire struggles not to gasp in a huge breath of air, feeling like a beetle stuck on it’s back. The woman holds her hand out in offering. “Not yet. But I would like to tell you what really happened in Penamstan. I would like to tell the whole world.”

This could easily be a trick--but then, she could easily have killed Claire here in the lonely darkness without leading her on a wild goose chase first. Claire accepts her help and hauls herself to her feet. She straightens her jacket, brushes her fingers over her forehead, and is pleased when she finds no blood there. “I can help you with that, then.”

The other woman is not much smaller than she is, long black hair pulled into a sensible ponytail and leather jacket zipped all the way to the base of her throat. “My name is Shen Mei. My brother was in Penamstan when the outbreak happened; he was--”

“Turned,” Claire supplies, ash in her mouth.

Shen Mei nods, solemn and stony. “I thought one of the Mad Dogs--Jason--was helping me, but he is not. He wants to expose the use of bioweapons but he will get people killed to do it. And he has recruited an agent onto his side that I am afraid of. If we do not move quickly they will harm others so the truth can get out.”

“And cause mass hysteria as a result,” Clare finishes. “Then you can tell me the rest of what’s happened as we move. Let’s go.”

~

T-minus 68 Hours

Shen Mei is quiet, practical, and deadly with a knife. Just as she predicts, agents come after them. Shen Mei needs no help in fighting them off.

“You can’t--!”

The blood spills from the soldier’s throat as he twists, gasping, in Shen Mei’s hands. Claire lunges, trying to get her hands on his neck, trying to staunch the blood, but Shen Mei uses her shoulder to shove Claire back, shielding the dying man from her sight. “They will kill us before we can get to the chip in my grandfather’s safe.” Shen Mei hisses. “They will kill us for even suspecting what was done to those people, to my brother. They know now that I am a rogue agent, and they will come after me. You need to keep your hair and prints away from the crime scene so they do not come after you, too.”

Claire stares at the man’s eyes, glassy and empty, and breathes shallowly. She thanks whatever is out there that it isn’t Leon’s body cooling on the pavement at Shen Mei’s feet. Could she have stopped her if Leon were the one under the knife?

But Leon wouldn’t have tried to kill her in the first place. Claire breathes in, breathes out. Shen Mei sheathes her knife and beckons. “Our plane is on the tarmac. We don’t have much time.”

Claire leaves three dead agents behind her. She tries not to look back.

~

T-Minus 41 Hours

Shen Mei pockets the chip her grandfather passes her. Behind the sheer curtains, a heart monitor beeps steadily. Shen Mei’s grandfather motions Claire forward. The curtain pulls back and Claire tries not to gasp as she recognizes the grey flesh, the growths, the slow blood leaking through the sheets.

“My grandson.” he tells her quietly. “I used up my savings to help him. I failed--”

Even as Claire raises a hand to place on the old man’s shoulder, Shen Mei and the other man in the room stiffen. The doors slam open, rattling on their hinges as Claire whips around, eyes wide and hand going to the gun Shen Mei lent her. But she’d know those blue eyes anywhere, and they have always been safe for her. Claire doesn’t draw on Leon.

She doesn’t, but Shen Mei does. Leon’s gun is trained on her, dead center between her eyes, and Claire’s brain stalls. Why would Leon shoot Shen Mei? She’s good, she’s one of them. She needs protection just like Leon and Claire did during Raccoon City.

The other man tries to rush forward, but Leon growls at him and he subsides, eyes flicking between Shen Mei and her grandfather, looking for instructions that won’t come. Claire almost wants to shoo him out. This is no place for young blood.

“Leon!” She doesn’t wait until his eyes light on her, but pushes forward, placing herself squarely in front of Shen Mei. She might not be the one with army training, but she knows this man. She’s the one who can get him to see sense, not Shen Mei. She sees his face go a little slack in surprise as she raises her hand and curls it around the gun barrel, not bothering to push it away since he’d do it himself in a second. “Don’t shoot!”

“Claire.” Leon sounds like he’s grinding his teeth. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping, like always.” She rolls her eyes, tries to lighten her tone. It doesn’t work. His feet shift a little, but he plants himself again. He hasn’t lowered the gun. Something quivers in alarm at the back of Claire’s mind, but she ignores it. “Shen Mei is going to expose the outbreak in Penamstan I told you about, but we’ve got to move fast, because this Mad Dog agent, Jason, he’s--”

“Coming after Shen Mei for the chip. He’s going to expose the bioweapons for good,” Leon finishes. “I know.”

Her mouth feels cottony, her head stuffed with too much input to make sense of it. Leon is still and steady as a stone in the middle of a rushing river. His gun presses against her collarbone, the metal cool and frightening against her skin. His hair is lank and damp with sweat like he hasn’t had time to stop and rest for days and his eyes look wild in his face. Claire doesn’t--can’t--understand. Faintly, she tries, “Leon?”

Leon lets a gust of air out of his mouth, an explosive sigh, and he jerks his gun out of Claire’s face. Before she can even breathe out her relief (how could she have thought he’d do it? She chastised herself. It’s Leon.), he moves. His fingers curl, unforgiving, into the lapel of her jacket and jerk her forward. Surprised and off-kilter, Claire stumbles to Leon’s side. Anger and no small amount of worry at his aggression and strangeness course through her; Claire slaps at his hand but Leon refuses to let her go. It doesn’t take a genius to tell he’s moving her out of the way, moving her behind him, putting himself between her and Shen Mei--

“I told you she’s not the issue--”

“Yes,” Leon snaps, near snarling, his face so animalistic Claire doesn’t recognize him, “she is. I told you not to do anything stupid.”

Claire opens her mouth, about to retort hotly, and shuts it when the ground rolls beneath their feet. Shen Mei lets out a cry and her grandfather throws himself bodily onto what used to be his grandson. Beside her, close enough that Claire can feel his breath (when had he dragged her so close?), Leon curses.

“Damn it Jason, I said I needed more time.”

The house collapses down around their heads.

~

T-Minus 37 Hours

Shen Mei finds her in the wreckage. “You are lucky,” she says as she pulls Claire to her feet.

Claire knows she isn’t. She knows that because Leon had thrown them both behind one of the tables in the bedroom as the fires started. She knows that Leon had hauled her as far as he could from the blast, even as Claire ripped her throat to shreds screaming for Shen Mei and her family. His grip had been bruising. He hadn’t responded to her at all. He’d covered her as much as he could with his own body when the tremors took their legs out from under them. She thinks perhaps she remembers the feeling of weightlessness that comes with being carried in someone’s arms.

“Where’s Leon?”

“Gone,” Shen Mei tells her, grim. “We have to act quickly; he’s got the chip. He’ll bring it to Jason and set the world on fire if we don’t stop them.”

Every cell in Claire’s body screams at the wrongness of her statement; she wants to spit and rage and cry that Leon wouldn’t do this, that he’d never hurt people just to expose bioweapons, that he wouldn’t do this to her--but she just woke up alone after her world caved in. Leon left her here.

Leon left. If Claire wants answers from him, she’s going to have to follow after him--it’s almost just like old times.

~

T-Minus 5 Minutes

“The control room,” Shen Mei shouts as they run. Jason stands on one of the catwalks, Wilson struggling fruitlessly in his hold. A dark corner of Claire thinks about waiting until he’s dead before stopping Jason.

“I’m on it!” She answers instead, hopping one of the railings and hauling ass to the small booth Shen Mei had pointed out.

But when she bursts through the doors, Claire realizes she’s too late. Leon stands in front of the control panel, his back to her; Claire knows his eyes are on the dying man above him, on the bioweapon threatening to end the lives of innocent people for the sake of the greater good just like in Raccoon City. In his left hand, there’s a glint of light as the chip catches on the low fluorescents in the room. He flips the chip almost carelessly between his fingers.

“Leon.”

“Claire.”

Even now, with her heart in her mouth, Claire can’t stand to believe it. She moves forward, until she’s standing across from him, so close she can smell the dust and smoke on his jacket. He smells like the rubble of Shen Mei’s home.

“Listen, I don’t know what your game plan is, but we don’t have much time.” She says quickly, trying to outrun the alarm bells ringing in her ears. “I couldn’t tell Shen Mei what you were doing because you didn’t tell me, but she’ll understand once we stop Jason together. We can talk to her and she’ll forgive you--”

“I don’t want to be forgiven,” Leon says, calm as the moment before the storm hits, “and I don’t want to stop Jason.”

He turns then, and the gun’s metal is warm now when it presses into her skin. “And you won’t either,” Leon finishes. His eyes are still too wide, the white showing all around the iris and his pupils tight and small. He looks like a cornered animal, like a dog about to snap its jaws at her. Claire forgets how to breathe.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to finish this, Claire. We have to put a stop to it all.”

“By killing innocent people?” She spots it the moment he balks; it’s so small no one else would see it. A tremble in his fingers, a stiffening of his mouth where it settles in his face. Claire’s world is spinning, the fundamentals are changing, the foundations are rending, but some things stay the same. Even as Leon rips apart all she knew of him, he’s still the same. “Leon, this isn’t you. I don’t know what happened, but I know you wouldn’t want to hurt people even if it meant stopping bioweapon productions for good. We fought for more than this.”

“When will it end?" He snaps. Claire tries not to flinch. He’s never been sharper with her, never been so manic and wild. “When do we stop fighting, Claire?”

“When we finish it,” She answers. Behind him, acid begins to flood the production floor. How long do they have until it reaches the level she can see Shen Mei scaling up? How long until Wilson’s skull gives under the pressure? How long until Jason grows tired of toying with them?

Leon shakes his head and the barrel of his gun shakes with him. He wavers, and Claire's confidence in Leon wavers with him. “Don’t you see? This will finish it.”

“If you think that, you really have gone insane.” Claire shakes her head, and, slow as she can, reaches up, a mirror of just yesterday. This time, she cups his hand in hers, fingers overlapping on the butt of the pistol. “Leon, if you let Jason do this, it will only be the beginning.”

“Everyone will know, just like you wanted.”

“Everyone will be dead,” Claire replies, letting her tone get as harsh and abrasive as it wants to be. “God, Leon, what the fuck happened to you? This isn't the person I know. This isn’t my friend.”

His lip curls and the barrel grows steady again. Claire doesn’t recognize the man threatening her anymore. “Maybe this is who I’ve always been and you’ve just been too blind to see it.”

“If that’s the case, you might as well shoot me now,” Claire argues, feeling her own lips pull back from her teeth. “Because I’d rather be dead than know I love someone who could do this.”

The world stops spinning on its axis. Claire fights the urge to run, to hide, to bite her lip and drop Leon’s gaze because she hadn’t exactly known what would come out of her mouth when she opened it. Too late now, though. Go big or go home, that’s what Chris always told her.

Leon moves before she can register it.

~

T-Minus 30 Seconds

The gun clatters against the metal as it lands on the floor, bouncing once, twice, three times. It slides away from their feet and rests by the door, harmless.

Kissing Leon is not at all like Claire would have imagined it. She’d learned to shut that idea out of her mind quickly; she’s not blind and she’s not stupid and she has better things to do than pine after a man who will never give her the time of day. Still, in the glimpses of fantasy she’d allowed herself, she’d seen candlelight and romantic music. She’d seen herself brushing his hair out of his eyes and him smiling that goofy, wide grin of his. She’d seen softness.

Kissing Leon is like pressing on a bruise to test its tenderness. It makes something sweet and painful twist in her chest when he presses close as he can. Her hand does slide into his hair but she twits it into knots around her fingers instead of smoothing it out like she wants to. His hand does dip into the small of her back like they’re about to dance together, but he’s balled it into a fist in the leather of her jacket. His mouth is hot and devouring, but he takes and takes and takes and gives nothing in return, leaving Claire gasping for air and feeling something closer to despair than she’d like.

His breath is warm and wet when he pants against her mouth. “Everyone could know without you releasing the chip,” Leon says, quiet in the middle of destroying her world. She’s in the eye of the storm and it is so very lonely. “You’d be safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe,” Claire tells him, achingly slow, feeling as if her heart is being ripped out of her piece by piece.

He doesn't fight when she laces their fingers together, just pulls her closer. His heart beats a tattoo against her ribs. “I can’t protect you if you’re the one who breaks the story.” Leon's voice strains, cracks, breaks. Perhaps she’s not the only one feeling desperate.

Claire shakes her head. “I only ever wanted to help. If you won’t let me, then I’ll do it myself.” Slipping from his grasp, she palms the chip she took from the nerveless fingers of his left hand. With her other hand, she brings Shen Mei’s gun up and clocks Leon across the jaw as hard as she can with the butt of it. Surprised, he stumbles, slumping across the control panel. She hurries to shove him away and, praying her glances at the platform names over Leon’s shoulder during their conversation were enough, begins pressing buttons rapidly.

Shen Mei screams as the platform under her feet falls away. Jason’s center of gravity is lower than hers, and he’s heavier; even his claws and strength and agility and determination cannot save him. As Claire swings another platform around to catch Shen Mei, a faint groan rips through the air behind her.

It’s time to go. (If she stays for when he wakes, Claire isn’t sure she’ll survive. Her heart’s too weak for that.)

Shen Mei slumps on the platform Claire slid under her to stop her fall. She has to collect the agent and flee before anyone finds them down here. Claire hits one last sequence which will give her a path to Shen Mei and the exit, holsters her gun, and doesn't look down as she steps over Leon.

“Claire…”

It feels like her bones are all broken, or have been replaced with shards of glass. It feels like her muscles are being rent from her flesh one at a time. It feels like she’s being dragged beneath the waves of the ocean and the light of her only salvation is retreating, retreating, retreating, so far away. Claire turns her head, just enough to catch the glint of his eye in the corner of hers. She can’t look at him, not now. She might stay if she does.

“When you’re ready to make it right,” Claire says, ignoring how her voice quivers and her mouth twists. “Then we’ll talk.”

~

After Launch

Leon brings one last drink to his lips. He ignores the looming and the badgering. He ignores the yelling and insults. He ignores the way his companion slams his fists into the wooden tabletop and rattles the bottles in front of him. Instead, he thinks about the pounding of Claire’s heart against his own. He thinks about pointing a gun at her. He thinks about her sharp eyes and the way her mouth had twisted in disgust. He thinks about how there wasn’t fear in her face but anger, hot and terrible and poisonous. He drinks until the drink is gone.

“Are you ready to make it right?” Chris demands.

Leon thinks of Claire--of the way she turned from him there at the very end of it all. At the end of the world she left. But that isn't fair: he’d left her first. Leon stands.

“Let’s get started.”

#claire redfield #leon kennedy #shen mei #chris redfield #jason (infinite darkness) #wilson (infinite darkness) #resident evil #resi #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fic #resident evil fanfiction #infinite darkness au #cleon #claire x leon #infinite darkness #resident evil (netflix) #resident evil infinite darkness #resident evil code veronica #pre-code veronica #resident evil au #unrequited love #requited love #blood #body horror #guns #threats #violence #explosions #friends to enemies to lovers to strangers #leon x claire

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch51: Captain America Homecoming

Intro: The team at the compound begin their experiment with the Quantum Tunnel, but it doesn’t all go according to plan. But just as everything seems lost, Tony appears having rethought his initial stance. And he has a little surprise for Steve.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: I can’t give @angrybirdcr​ enough credit…she makes my images into, well, erm, images…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 50

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Bruce needed a day to calibrate the computer and systems to the right configuration to use with Scott’s Quantum Tunnel (which was, amusingly yet completely unsurprisingly, in the back of his ugly brown van). Katie took the chance to head into the office to catch up and then inform Soraya she didn’t know how much she would be available in person over the coming week.

They had another day before they were due to collect Emmy from the train station, her five day trip to Philly was drawing to a close and when they had spoken to her last night she had been equal parts excited to come home and fed up that it was ending. But she would be back at school soon, and she had an important few weeks coming up as she was studying for her end of year exams. Neither of them were particularly concerned about that, however, as Emmy was a complete brainbox. Although she was only a freshman, she was taking APs in Human Geography and Psychology (having told her parents she wanted to be a Therapist) and was already being touted by her tutors as Harvard potential. Steve wasn’t overly keen about his daughter being in a different state, but all things considered, Boston wasn’t too far. And he knew he had to let her make her own decision so they’d cross that bridge when they got there.

For the time being, the only bridge Steve wanted to cross was the one he and Natasha were currently planning on making to reach out to the remaining original Avengers, Thor and Clint.

“Thor should be easy, surely?” Nat asked, swinging her feet up onto the table as she sat back in her seat. She looked to Steve for confirmation, but instead he sighed and shook his head.

“Has Katie not told you?”

“Told me what?”

Steve scratched at his chin. “He had a disagreement with one of the Elders about three months back. From what Valkyrie told Katie, there was a bit of an argument over the rebuilding of their army and the elder took a shot at Thor, saying he wasn’t fit to lead any kind of battalion as he had failed to keep them safe from Thanos.”

“That’s harsh.” Nat frowned.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve bit his lip. “I think it was more anger speaking than the guy actually thinking that, but it sent Thor into another downwards spiral and he’s ignored Katie’s attempts to reach out to him again so she’s given in.” “Okay, so, maybe a little harder than we anticipated.” “Least we know where he is. Any luck on Barton?”

“Rhodey thinks he’s targeting a gang in Hong Kong.” Nat sighed. “But I won’t know for sure until he arrives.”

Steve, nodded. “Well when we find out where he is we can scramble a jet and…” “No.” Nat shook her head “Not we, me. I’ll go alone.” “Nat.” Steve frowned “Clint, he’s been leaving a trail of utter carnage behind him, I don’t think you-“

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“It’s not him I’m concerned about, more the people he’s taking on.” “I can handle myself.” Nat replied, firmly as she looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling with that Black Widow venom Steve had to admit he had missed over the past few years. He took a deep breath and against his better judgement conceded.

“Alright. We’ll do it your way.”

Natasha frowned, and smirked. “Really? That’s it, no argument?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You want an argument?” “Not really.” She shook her head, smiling.

Steve gave a chuckle and then they were cut off by an incoming call springing up in front of Natasha. She swiped to her right and the hologram form of Rocket appeared on the desk.

“Hey Nat.” He nodded, turning to Steve, “Cap.We’re wrapping things up on that latest lead, then we have to nip to Contraxia as I need a few things,” he Raccoon explained, looking at them both, “should be with you day after tomorrow lunchtime, ish” “Rocket, you were close to Thor right?” Steve spoke, an idea coming to him.

“Kinda, why?” “We need him.” Steve stated simply. “He knows about the stones, but convincing him could be a bit of a task. So I was thinking maybe you could help and go with Katie to New Asgard.” The animal pondered for a while before he shrugged. “I can try.”

“That’s all any of us can do.”

The raccoon nodded again “Alright.” He turned to Nat. “We’ll see you soon.” And with that he disappeared.

Steve stayed at the compound until late afternoon, popping in to see how Bruce and Scott were getting on, before he made his way home. Katie and Jamie were already back and he could hear the two of them in the living room.

“Who’s that?” Jamie asked as he pointed to the photo in the album that his Mom had open on her lap.

“That’s your Uncle Sam.” She smiled at the photo of Steve and his best man at the reception of their wedding “You know you get your name from him, well one of them anyway.”

“Where is he now?” Jamie asked.

“He err…he went away” Katie said slowly as she tried to figure out how to explain this to a three year old. “You know how daddy has told you about his friend, Uncle Bucky?” “Yeah.” “Well, a few years ago, before you were born, The Avengers, well they had a fight, with a nasty man, and your Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam, and one of our other friends, a lady called Wanda…they had to go away afterwards.”

“Was Uncle Tony in the fight?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“And Auntie Nat-Nat?”

“Yeah. And Thor. There were a lot of people involved?”

“Did you and daddy fight with the Avengers?” Jamie asked, his eyes wide.

At that point Katie looked up and saw Steve hovering in the door way. He swallowed and walked into the room.

“A long time ago buddy, yeah.” He nodded.

“Did you know Captain America?” Jamie’s eyes were now almost the size of dinner plates.

“I did yeah.” Steve nodded, kneeling down in front of his son. “But he gave up fighting.” Jamie pondered something as Katie looked at her husband. “Not for much longer though.” She locked eyes with him.

Steve took a deep breath and swallowed once more. He wasn’t sure he’d ever hold that shield again.

“Maybe.” he said, shrugging, before he stood up and settled on the couch at the other side of his son.

Jamie made to turn the page in the album and the next photo was one of Steve’s favourites and one they had a large framed version of on the mantel piece. It showed him and Katie at their first dance, heads pressed together, huge smiles on their faces as he held her close.

“Momma you look real pretty!” Jamie smiled and Katie dropped a kiss to his head.

“Thanks, Baby.” “Your momma always looks pretty.” Steve smiled “She’s the most beautiful girl on the planet.” “Charmer.” Katie looked at him as he stretched his arm over the back of his son and pulled her in closer.

“Only for you.” He winked, dropping a kiss to her cheek.

****** Tony stood at the sink, rinsing down the dishes from dinner whilst Pepper settled Morgan down for the night. He’d spoken to Kiddo earlier, she’d told him they were running the first Time Travel trial tomorrow. He’d managed to push it out of his mind for most of the afternoon but now, as he stood alone, he kept thinking about it over and over again. He knew Bruce was clever, but this really wasn’t his area…

What if something went wrong? Not his problem.

Tony’s grip on the attachment to the tap slipped and it jerked out of his hand, spraying water all over the place. With a sigh he turned it off and grabbed the tea towel, mopping up the water from around the sink and then the shelf which it had squirted all over. He glanced at the photos, and paused for a moment at the frame that was placed just to the right of the one which held a picture of his dad. He took a deep breath as he wiped the water off the faces- him and Peter Parker holding the fake Stark Internship Certificate upside down, each one pulling peace signs behind the other’s head. He swallowed.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back.”

Tony looked around his kitchen, his stomach turning slightly. Yes, he had something to fight for, something personal, the kid. They all had something personal right? Natasha had Clint’s family, Rogers and Kiddo had Barnes, Wilson and Wanda… Scott had his girlfriend, or whatever. But he couldn’t risk it. He shouldn’t risk it….

But they were going to risk it. He knew that. And they could, probably would, fuck it up without him.

“Damned it, Rogers.” He mumbled, placing the photo down and heading into the dining room.

Two hours later, Pepper was out in the greenhouse as she often was later at night and Tony was talking to FRIDAY, with whom he had been brainstorming a number of ideas for the past hour and a half. He looked the holographic model in front of him and tapped at the pad on the table.

“Look at a mod inspiration, let’s see if it checks out.”  He instructed, watching as the image changed in front of his eyes. “So…” he pressed a few keys again, “run one last sim before we pack it in for the night,” he clapped his hands together and paced round the side of the table, “this time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing.“ FRIDAY replied as Tony crossed his arms and watched.

“Give me that Eigen value,” he reached out to spin the image with his hand, “that, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp,” he grabbed the bottle on the side of the table to take a drink of the smoothie he had made, “that will take a second.”

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out,” he replaced the top on his drink and grabbing a blueberry from the packet he had been eating, “I’m just kinda…” he trailed off chewing the fruit, as he watched FRIDAY do her business.

“Model rendered.”

The red words ‘Model Successful’ with a rating of ‘99.987%’ flashed in front of his eyes and Tony felt his mouth drop open, utterly bewildered by his discover. He fell back into his chair, looking up at it and his mouth flew to his hand. He, Tony Stark, had figured out how to do exactly what Lang had proposed, how to safely travel time.

Despite himself, he felt a certain level of pride and smugness, and he threw his arms out to his side. “Shit!” He laughed out.

“Shit.” A voice spoke from behind him, followed by a giggle. He paused, and turned to see his daughter was sat on the bottom stair, grinning at him.

He held his finger to his lips and shook his head. “What are you doing up, little miss?”

“Shit.” She repeated again.

“No, we don’t say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?” Morgan looked at him.

“Cause I got some important shit going on here,” Tony jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the hologram, “what do you think?”

Morgan shot him a frown and he took a deep breath, when she pulled that face she looked ridiculously like her Auntie. ”No, I got something on my mind,” he explained in a softer tone.

“Was it Juice Pops?” Morgan asked, hopefully.

“Sure was.” Tony looked at the other side of the room before he turned back to his daughter, “extortion. That’s a word.” He stood up and looked down at her. “What kind you want?” He asked, taking her hand and she stood up. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on-” he looked back to the model then turned towards the kitchen “-my mind.”

A little while and a juice pop later Morgan was back in bed, demanding a story.

“Once upon a time, Morgoona went to bed. The end.” Tony grinned.

“That is a horrible story.” Morgan looked at him with a glare.

“Come on, that’s your favorite story.” He grinned and as she rolled her eyes he smiled. “I love you tons.” He made it clear that was the end of the conversation by standing up, kissing her on the forehead.

“I love you three thousand.” Morgan looked at him and Tony smiled.

“Wow.” he said, quietly. His daughter had an ability, very like Kiddo, to say things that sideswiped him, and made his chest burst with love, and this was one of those moments. He contemplated that for a moment before he stood up and turned off her lamp. “Three thousand, that’s crazy.”

He walked to the door, and closing it behind him, still grinning he told her “Go to bed, or I’ll sell all your toys, night night.”

By the time he reached the living room Pepper was back inside, sat on the couch reading a book.

“Not that it’s a competition-” Tony spoke and Pepper looked up at him “-but she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh does she now?” Pepper smiled.

“You were somewhere on the low six to nine-hundred range.” Pepper laughed and turned back to her book. Tony, still chewing on the juice pop stick looked back to where the model was still projecting over his table.

“What you reading?” He asked, although he wasn’t particularly interested. His mind was racing once more.

“Oh, it’s just a book on composting”.

“What’s new with composting?” His eyes were still on the image. “Interesting science…” she began, but he cut her off.

“I figured it out, by the way.” Tony looked back at her, removing the juice pop stick from his mouth.”

“And, you know, just so we’re talking about the same thing –“

“Time travel.”

“What?” Pepper whispered as Tony glanced back at the hologram, arms folded. “Wow,” her gaze dropped down slightly, “that’s amazing, and terrifying.”

“That’s right.” He dropped down beside her, his left arm hanging over the back of the sofa.

“We got really lucky.” Pepper said, stroking his arm.

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.” 

“No, but I can’t help everybody.”

“Well, it sorta seems like you can.” Pepper pressed again.

“Not if I stop.” Tony shrugged, and Pepper gave a small huff of a laugh. “I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my entire life.”

Tony gave a soft laugh and his right arm gently rubbed the hand that was laid over his left arm.

“Something tells me I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of the lake, go to bed.”

There was a pause, before Pepper looked at him again, her eyes soft and her face rearranged into a knowing expression.

“But would you be able to rest?”

Tony didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. They both knew the answer was no. *******

“Alright, Emmy, remember what I said?” Katie looked at her daughter who was sat on the couch in the living room of their old quarters.

“Yeah, I can’t leave here until someone comes to get us.” Emmy nodded

“No matter what.”

“Yeah mom, I got it. We’ll be fine, wont we Jamie?”

Jamie nodded, grinning up at his mother “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay, love you both.”

With one last glance over her shoulder at her kids, Katie made her way back to the hanger.

“Breakers are set. Emergency generators are on standby.” She heard Steve call out as he strode back towards the computer. Katie couldn’t help but admire his ass, he looked pretty good in a pair of black denims, light blue shirt as always tucked in, belt circling his toned waist. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow with a smug smirk as he caught the expression on her face and she shrugged.

“Good, ‘coz if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950s,” Bruce said through gritted teeth, jerking his thumb at Scott, only his comment wasn’t quite as quiet as he thought. Scott, who was stood in his suit, fiddling with something on his helmet heard perfectly.

“Excuse me?” Scott glared at Banner as Katie and Steve exchanged a glance. .

“He’s kidding!” Natasha said in a playful voice, shaking her head as she tapped on the tablet she was holding which would be used to track Scott. She looked up with a smile, which Katie knew perfectly to be false and laughed. “You can’t say things like that.” Natasha looked at Bruce.

“Yeah, sorry, it was…just a bad joke.” He smiled as he looked at Scott. Scott nodded once as he walked back to the van.

“You were kidding right?” Katie looked at Bruce.

“I have no idea!” Bruce hissed. “We’re talking about time travel here, either it’s all a joke or none of it is!”  He looked away from Katie and flashed Scott the thumbs up. “We’re good.”

Steve crossed his arms and let out a breath as Scott pulled his helmet on. He gave Bruce a double thumbs up and Katie smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“Alright Scott, we’re gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in ten seconds. Make sense?” Bruce asked as he tapped at the keys on his desk with a pencil

“Perfectly not confusing.” Scott shrugged.

Okay, so now Steve was nervous. He took a deep breath and looked at the man stood by the back of the van, his hands dropping to his hips.

“Good luck Scott. You’ve got this.” He refrained from adding I hope.

“You’re right. I do Captain America.” Scott grinned, proudly, as Bruce hit a button, sucking him into the tunnel.

“On the count of three-“ Bruce called, and Steve dropped his hands, his fists clenching, mouth open slightly as he watched . At the other side of Bruce, Katie and Nat shared a nervous glance. “Three… two…one…” Steve breathed a sigh of relief as someone appeared but it was short lived as he realised the person in front of them could be no older than Emmy. Katie frowned as did Natasha, confusion etched across her face and next to them, Bruce adjusted his glasses.

"Guys, something doesn’t feel right.” The boy informed them nervously.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, as Bruce set about pressing a load more buttons. “Hang on…”

“Is that Scott?” Katie’s eyes grew wide as she looked at Bruce, who ducked down to hit something on the console, her eyes locking with Steve who looked as utterly perplexed as she felt.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” The boy exclaimed.

Teenage Scott was sucked back into the tunnel, Natasha watching Bruce as he straightened up and the four of them looked back to the tunnel to see another person thrown out, this time an elderly man.

“Ow, my back!”

“What is this?” Steve asked

“Can I…I need a little space!” Bruce demanded as he moved to his right.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Steve hastily moved out of the way and going to stand in between his wife and Natasha. “Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Bruce hit one of the screens. Katie, Steve and Nat shared another panicked look as Old Scott was yanked back in only to this time reappear as…

"That’s a baby.” Steve deadpanned.

“It’s Scott!” Bruce defended.

“As a baby!” Steve snapped as the infant looked up at them wide eyed.

“He’ll grow!” Bruce said, attempting a joke.

“Bring Scott back!” Steve instructed sharply.

“Nat, when I say kill the power, kill the power!” Bruce called and Natasha ran off to the breaker at the side of the hanger.

Katie and Steve watched as Bruce jabbed more buttons, before he yelled out “Kill it!”

Natasha pulled the lever down and Bruce slapped a large red button. This time Scott Lang returned exactly as he had been before he left.

“Somebody peed my pants.” He called out loudly, standing stiffly still. “I don’t know if it was baby me, or old me. Or, just… me-me.”

“Time travel!” Bruce beamed excitedly, throwing his hands out to the side as Katie, Steve and Natasha looked at him. “What? I, I see this as an absolute win.”

Steve simply stared at Bruce in silence for a moment, before he shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. He looked down at the floor before he walked off, Katie watching him as he left the hangar and stepped outside.

“I think we should take a break.” Katie took a deep breath. “Nat can you check the kids, I’m gonna…” She jerked her thumb after Steve and Nat nodded.

Steve stood outside by the large metal pillar at the side of the building, hands still on his hips as he stared at the floor. What was the point of being able to time travel if you couldn’t control it? The worse thing being that he wasn’t even sure if they would be able to perfect it with practice, and was he willing to keep risking Scott to do that? They had been so close, but Tony was right, it had clearly been a pipe dream.

“Hey.” Katie’s hand fell gently to his elbow. “Honey, we knew it was a long shot.” “I know.” He sighed, looking at her. “But I thought it might have worked, you know. That we might have had a chance to…”

He was cut off as a loud engine growled in the distance. They both looked out over the compound to see a familiar Audi R8 speeding down the drive towards the hangar. Katie and Steve exchanged a glance as the car pulled up to where they were stood, but overshot their position slightly. Steve followed the car with his eyes as it backed up and Tony rolled down the window and looked at them both. Steve raised his eyebrows, looking away.

“Why the long face?” Tony asked, directing his question to Steve. “Let me guess: He turned into a baby”

“Among other things, yeah.” Steve replied, an edge of frustration in his voice as he looked back at Tony. “What are you doing here?”

Tony opened the car door and climbed out, walking to the back, completely ignoring Steve’s question as he spoke.

“That’s the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up pushing time through Lang.” Tony looked at Steve “It’s tricky. Dangerous. Somebody shoulda cautioned you against it.”

“You did.” Steve deadpanned, not in the mood for a lecture.

“Oh, did I?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow and Katie felt a grin cross her face at her brother’s sarcasm “Thank God I’m here. Regardless, I fixed it” Steve raised his eyebrows as he glanced at his brother in law who held up his right hand which bore what looked like a watch of some description. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS.

At this Steve let out a genuine smile as he realised Tony was here to help. Tony returned it with one of his own

“I just want peace.” He made the sign with his fingers. “Turns out, being angry and bitter is corrosive, and I hate it.

“Me too.” Steve nodded softly, recognizing this for what it was. An apology for the other day, and he was happy to provide his own.

“Guys, we got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities.” Tony urged softly, looking from Steve to Katie and back again “Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs”.

“So do we, Tony.”  Katie implored. “Our Kids, they’re the most important thing to us.”

“Nothing we do can jeopardise them.” Steve dropped his left arm round Katie. “Any of them.”

“And maybe if we could manage to not die trying, that would be nice.” Tony shrugged.

Steve smiled and held out his right hand. “Sounds like a deal.”

Tony shook it, before he smiled, cheekily, and headed to the trunk. Steve looked at his wife and she shrugged, before the two of them followed him, Steve watching curiously. Tony lifted something out, turned it upside down to dislodge the teddy bear sat on it and Katie’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw it was Steve’s shield.

Steve hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Tony… I don’t know..” He swallowed, the nerve twitching in his jaw. He wasn’t worthy of that shield, not anymore.

“Why? He made it for you.” Tony held Steve’s gaze. “Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.” Steve looked over his shoulder at Katie, who was fighting back her tears and she gave him an encouraging nod. He lifted his arm and Tony slid the shield straps over his shirt and Steve looked down at it, taking a shaky breath. It felt like slipping into a familiar pair of sneakers. 

“Thank you, Tony.” Steve looked up at his brother-in-law, his voice choked as behind him, Katie dropped a hand to his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the spot between his shoulder blades, her face resting on his shirt.

“Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn’t bring one for the whole team.” Tony hesitated for a moment. “We are getting the whole team, yeah?

“We’re working on that right now.” Katie moved so she could see Tony, before she heard a yell behind her.

“Uncle Nee!” Jamie shot straight by her and launched at his Uncle.

“Hey, Sport!” Tony grinned, picking him up. “What you been up to?” “Me and Emmy were colouring and making dinosaur models.” “Wow!” Tony nodded, turning to Emmy who was walking towards them.

“Mom?” Her voice was a whisper as she spotted what Steve was holding. “Dad’s…” “Yeah.” Katie smiled at her, dropping an arm round the teenager’s shoulders as she continued to glance at his shield. Never one to miss anything, Jamie glanced at his Sister, then his dad and his eyes widened. 

“Why you have shield like Captain America?” Jamie frowned as Steve ran his fingers over the edge of the Vibranium before looking at his son as Tony placed him on the floor, struggling to find the words to explain.

Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder “Alright, I’ll leave that one with you. Time to go see what a mess of my compound Brucie has made. ”He walked passed Emmy, dropping an arm round her shoulders. “Walk with me kid, tell me about Philly.” He shot a glance at Katie who smiled as he steered the teenager back to the compound whilst she began excitedly telling him about her trip.

Steve turned to look Katie, his eyes glistening with emotion.

“Still suits you.” She smiled to him and he gave a little chuckle.

“Daddy!” Jamie insisted, tugging on his trousers, annoyed at his question being ignored.

“Sorry Pal,” Steve crouched down, shield still on his arm. “I have a shield like Captain America because I was Captain America.”

Jamie frowned before his eyes grew wide. An older kid might have laughed and told his dad to stop being silly, but Steve had never lied to Jamie before and it would never have occurred to the three year old to ever think he would.

“You were Captain America?” Jamie frowned. “When you fighted with the Avengers?”

“Yeah” Steve sighed, running his hand through Jamie’s golden hair. “I was.”

“Are you still Cap now?”

“I dunno.” Steve glanced back at his shield before he looked at Jamie, smiling gently.

“I think you are.” Jamie cocked his head to one side as his hand reached out to touch the shield. “Because Cap’s a hero and you’re my hero”

Katie saw Steve’s eyes water instantly as he pulled Jamie closer to him, dropping a kiss to the side of his head as the boy’s arms wound around his dad’s neck. He glanced up at Katie and she swallowed, leaning against the column to her left, wiping her eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had called any of the Avengers that, and to hear it from his son meant more to Steve than anything.

“Daddy?” Jamie mumbled against his dad’s shoulder, where his head lay.

“Yeah?” Steve cleared his throat.

“You got a helmet too?” Jamie pulled back to study his father’s face as Steve gave out a soft laugh

“Yeah buddy. I do.”

“And a uniform?”

“I have a few.” Steve nodded.

“Can I see?” Jamie’s face lit up and Steve glanced at Katie who smiled, nodding encouragingly.

“Sure… come on.” Steve stood up, Jamie easily lifted in his free arm. “You coming?” He stopped at his wife’s side as she reached up a hand to smooth down Jamie’s jumper which had ridden up slightly.

“I think this is a hero to son moment, don’t you?” She smiled, standing on her toes so she could give his lips a peck. “Besides, someone’s gotta stop Tony creating havoc in there.” “Good luck with that.” He muttered, giving her another kiss before he carried Jamie into the compound, striding through the hangar doors and across to the corridor. Katie waited for a moment, composing herself before she headed back inside.

**** True to their word, Nebula and Rocket arrived the following lunch and it wasn’t long after that Katie and Rocket headed off to New Asgard, along with Banner. Banner and Thor had shared a lot during the events leading up to Thanos’ attacking the Asgardian ship and Katie was hoping that together they stood a better chance of convincing the God to help. Katie sat in the passenger seat of the truck belonging to one of the Asgardians who had come to greet them. She couldn’t help but smile as they rolled past the sign at the side of the road WELCOME TO NEW ASGARD, PLEASE DRIVE SLOWLY. They stopped at the small port, and Katie hopped out of the truck, thanking the man, whilst Bruce and Rocket climbed out of the back.

“Kind of a step down from a golden palace for an Avenger highness and whatnot.” Rocket mused, looking around.

“Hey, have a little compassion, pal.” Bruce said gently. “First they’ve lost Asgard, then half the people. They’re probably just happy to have a home.”

Katie spotted Valkyrie who smiled at her, and then her face rearranged into surprise as she saw Bruce.

“You shouldn’t have come!” She warned as they approached her.

“Ah, Valkyrie! Great to see you, Angry Girl.” Bruce smiled.

“I think I liked you better either of the other ways.” She almost chuckled, taking in his appearance.

“This is Rocket.” Katie gestured to the raccoon.

“How you doin’?” He greeted her.

Valkyrie nodded at him before she turned to Katie. “He won’t see you.

“Still that bad, huh?” Katie folded her arms.

“We only see him once a month, when he comes for-“ she looked over to the pile of kegs on the side of the port, “-supplies.

“It’s that bad?” Bruce mumbled.

“Yeah.”

“We have to try.” Katie bit her lip, looking round before she turned to Bruce and Rocket. “Come on.” She led them down the side of the harbour and they walked up the small, cobbled street towards the fishing hut Thor was living in. Katie paused, and tried the handle. It opened and Rocket stepped in first. Instantly, Katie was hit with a smell that made her nose wrinkle. It was a combination of dirty clothes, stale beer and old take-outs.

“What the… woo!” Rocket grimaced, waving his paw in front of his nose. “Something died in here.”

“Hello? Thor?” Bruce called.

Thor’s voice rumbled through to them from another room. “Are you here about the cable?”

They made their way into the main room and Thor, who was shirtless, having definitely put on more than a couple of pounds since Katie had last seen him, was walking across the room gesturing to the TV.

“The Cinemax ran out about two weeks ago, and the sports are all kind of fuzzy.” He grabbed a beer from the ice bucket and Katie looked at Bruce who was frowning.

“Thor?” He asked, his voice disbelieving.

Thor turned and took a moment to look at the three of them, before his face cracked into a smile

“Boys!” He laughed out. “Little Stark! Oh my God! It’s so good to see you!” He crossed towards Rocket, trying to hug him, his knuckles rubbing the raccoons head. “Come here, you little rascal!”

“No, I’m good. I’m good. That’s not necessary.” Rocket groaned, wriggling away.

“Hulk, Little Stark, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?”

Miek and Korg were sat on a couch, the Rock creature in a Hawaiian shirt, play station controller in his hand playing what looked to Katie like Fortnite- one of Emmy’s favourites.

“Hey guys!” Korg raised his hand in greeting.

“Hey!” Bruce smiled. “Long time no see.”

“Beers in the bucket. Feel free to log on to the Wi-Fi. No password, obviously.” Korg said cheerfully as he turned back to his game, growing suddenly serious. “Thor, he’s back. The kid on the TV that called me a dickhead again.”

“Noobmaster.” Thor growled out as he spun round. Miek threw a piece of pizza towards the TV in disgust, giving a little click.

“Yeah, Noobmaster69. Called me a dickhead.”

Thor stomped over to Korg, took his headphones and spoke loudly into the mic.

“Noobmaster? Yeah, it’s Thor again. You know, the God of Thunder? Listen, buddy. If you don’t log off this game immediately, I am gonna fly over to your house, come down to that basement you’re hiding in, rip off your arms and shove them up your butt! Oh, that’s right. Yes, go cry to your father, you little weasel!”

Katie and Rocket exchanged a look as Thor returned Korg’s head set, before she glanced up at Banner who was watching, a look of disbelief on his face and Katie couldn’t help but echo his feelings. Seeing their friend, their once mighty Avenger partner, in such a state made her beyond sad.

“So you guys want a drink? What are you drinking? We have beer, tequila, all sorts of things.” Thor asked, using Stormbreaker to open a bottle of beer. Bruce walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Buddy, you all right?”

“​​​​​​Yes, I’m fine! Why, don’t I look all right?” Thor frowned.

“You look like melted ice cream.” Rocket crossed his arms, but despite his joke Katie could tell he was concerned.

Thor simply laughed and looked at them all. “So, what’s up?

“We need your help” Katie spoke gently “There might be a chance we could fix everything.”

“What, like the cable?” Thor burped. “Cause that’s been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“Like Thanos.” Bruce spoke and Katie saw Thor’s smile slowly disappear. He put a shaky hand on Bruce’s shoulder and pointed at him.

“Don’t you say that name.”

Behind Thor, Korg stood up, taking off his headphones. “Um, yeah. We don’t actually say that name in here.”

“Please take your hand off me” Bruce’s tone was quiet as he brushed away Thor’s grip on his shoulder. “Now, I know that… guy might scare you…”

“Why would, why would I be scared of that guy?” Thor scoffed, turning away. “I’m the one who killed that guy, remember? Anyone else here killed that guy? Nope. Didn’t think so. Korg, why don’t you, tell everybody who chopped Thanos’ big head off.”

“Umm… Stormbreaker?” Korg offered.

“No, who was swinging Stormbreaker?” Thor shot back.

“Thor.” Katie started gently. “I get it, we all get it. You’re in a rough spot right now-”

“I’ve been there myself.” Bruce picked up from her “You wanna know who helped me out of it?”

“I don’t know…Natasha?” Thor snorted and Katie rolled her eyes.

“It was you. You helped me”.

Thor walked back over to Bruce and pointed out of the window with the hand holding his beer. “Why don’t you ask the Asgardians down there, how much my help was worth?” he dropped onto the chair “The ones that are left, anyway.”

“We think we can bring them back.” Katie looked at him.

“Little Stark, please stop. Stop, okay?” Thor pleaded, opening a packet of M&Ms. “I know you think I’m down here wallowing in my own self-pity, waiting to be rescued and saved. But I’m fine, okay? We’re fine, aren’t we?”

He looked at Korg and Miek eating pizza and playing once more on the Playstation.

“Nah, all good here, mate!” Korg nodded.

Katie looked back at Thor as he stared up at her. “So, whatever it is that you’re offering, we’re not into it, don’t care, couldn’t care less. Goodbye.”

“We need you Thunder God.” Katie swallowed as she shook her head sadly. ”Please.”

Thor shook his head and ignored her.

“There’s beer on the ship.” Rocket broke the silence, crossing his arms.

Thor paused, and without looking up he spoke again, this time his words softer. “What kind?”

**** Chapter 52

 **Original Posting**

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