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muchosbesitos · 7 months

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powerless part 2

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: pre-spider society miguel, jealous reader 🫣, smut, mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v

author’s note: sry i took a lil break, i had a bit of a writer’s block when it came to this part 🫡 part no one rly asked for but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless

word count: 4k

powerless part one

You and Miguel had been dancing around that line between being friends and being something more for the past few weeks. You could forgive him for that given the fact that he's been busy with a new prototype at Alchemax and he's been out saving the city. Your friends had stopped speaking to you after what happened, immediately choosing to side with Krystal despite them telling you that they'd never pick a side beforehand. You tried to keep your mind busy, to fill in the void with empty projects and your work, but nothing seemed to satisfy you.

You were in the middle of cooking up something for dinner when you heard a knock on your window, noticing Miguel leaning against it. You opened it up, noticing that it was starting to rain outside. "What is with you coming to my place whenever it's raining?" You asked him with a small giggle, stepping back to let him come inside. He pulled away the mask and only then did you notice the pained expression on his face, your eyes drifting down to the gash on his abdomen. You laughter died off and you helped him lay down on the couch, going to your bathroom to get something to clean him up with.

You poured some rubbing alcohol into a rag, starting to clean up the wound and blood surrounding it. Miguel let out a hiss as the alcohol seeped through the wound, stinging him and you shot him an apologetic look as you continued to clean him up. "How'd it happen?" You asked him once the blood stopped, stepping back to give him some space as he healed. "Just a fight with Doc Ock, the usual," he responded, his breath shallow. "Feel free to use the shower whenever you're ready," you told him, going back to the kitchen to make sure the food didn't burn.

He came back a little while after taking a shower, smelling like your body soap and he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind as you were just finishing up the meal. "What are you making, hermosa?" He asked you, his words coming out muffled given that he'd buried his face in the crook of your neck. "I watched Ratatouille the other day so I decided to try out the dish. Turns out, it's not as easy as the stupid rat makes it seem but I don't think it looks too bad," you respond and he looked over your shoulder at the food baking. "I'm sure it's delicious, little chef."

"Oh come on! It's not that bad," you protested as Miguel spat out the first bite he'd taken of the food. "No, no. It's just.. too much for my taste buds to handle, y'know? It's just so good that I can't contain it," he responded, avoiding eye contact with you as he spoke. You rolled your eyes, putting a piece of eggplant in your mouth just to prove a point to him. You quickly spat it out, taking a sip of water to wash down the taste. You look up to see Miguel looking at you with a small smirk on his face, like he was daring you to try and defend the dish. "Alright, come on. I’ll help you make it again," he told you, gesturing you to join him in the kitchen as he stood up.

You began chopping up the eggplants while Miguel chopped up the onions, claiming that he wouldn't cry because of them. A couple seconds pass before you pick up sounds of him sniffling as he's cutting, though he did pretty well at masking it. You opened up the faucet next to him, a trick that your mom had taught you as his sniffling started to stop. "Thanks," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed and you go back to chopping the vegetable. "Why do these things have to be so big?" you whined as you cut the pieces into thin slices. "I'd say my eggplant's bigger," he responded, laughing at his own joke.

"Miguel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Never say that again."

"Yes ma'am."

Eventually after a series of jokes and chopping up vegetables, the two of you were waiting for the dish to finish up. You were setting up the table while he was responsible for making sure that it didn't end up slightly burned like last time, his attention solely on the oven. The two of you sat to eat and he began telling you about his day, how he'd basically swung around the entirety of Nueva York. "How about you? Have your 'friends' called you?" He asked, putting the word in quotation marks as he rolled his eyes. "No, they haven't. Probably still pissed off that I won't apologize to them for pursuing something with you," you responded as you were finishing up with your food, taking a sip from your drink. "I know you didn't ask for my two cents, but if they were okay losing you in the first place then maybe they're not your friends."

A couple of days passed by before you had the opportunity to see Miguel again. He'd texted you early enough in the day to tell you that he would be taking you out tonight, to dress up in something nice. You headed out to the mall in hopes to find something adequate to wear, since most of your clothes weren't suitable for going to nice places. You were walking around the mall for some short time while you stumbled on your group of friends giggling and talking amongst themselves. You were planning on ignoring them, but your plans were quickly changed when one of them called you over.

Your throat bobbed as you walked over to them, trying to see what they wanted from you. "All you have to do is apologize to Krystal and we'll let you back in our group," one of them told you and you couldn't help it anymore. "Why not ask Krystal to apologize for the way that she treated me? For the way that she treated all of you? You all defend her actions but the only reason that she pursues the men she does is because someone else has interest in them," you respond and you could tell that their patience was running thin. "Either you apologize to Krystal right now or you're dropped from the group," the same one told you, her eyes boring into you.

You looked at the satisfied look on Krystal’s face and decided that it wasn't worth it anymore. "I'm sorry for sending you that picture, it was really petty of me. But I'm not apologizing for pursuing something with Miguel," you spoke to Krystal, looking at her directly as she scrambled to look upset when all eyes turned to her. "And as for the group, you can drop me. You're all hypocrites, getting pissed off when someone does something wrong but being perfectly okay when Krystal does it. She's not even supposed to be in this group, the only reason she's in it is because her sister wanted us to pity her," you finished off, not caring if you went too far and walked away.

Though the memories that you shared with your friends was something that you would miss, you felt a sense of relief at finally letting them go. You walked into a couple other stores and ended up buying a new dress and a set of lingerie just in case. When you got home, you decided to do something you'd been meaning to do for quite some time now since you were running on that 'high' of how good it felt to defend yourself. You grabbed your name tag and apron and took the train to the restaurant you worked at, confident in the decision that you were taking.

You walked to the back of the restaurant and sat down while you waited for the boss to come in. "What are you doing here? You have the day off today," your boss told you once he stepped inside the office, sitting down behind his desk. "I wanted to tell you that i'm quitting. I appreciate the opportunity that you gave me but I don't think this place fits my needs anymore," you told him, handing over your stuff. He shrugged and gave you your last paycheck before you were dismissed out of his office. You were thankful that the exchange had gone fairly well since your boss wasn't exactly the most pleasant person to work with.

You got ready for your date with Miguel as soon as you got back home, a little giddy as you took a shower. You couldn't help but wonder if this was the date where he'd make things official, to ask you if you wanted to be his girlfriend. On another part, you couldn't help but think if he was just taking you someplace nice to break up with you so it wouldn't hurt as bad. You decided to just go along with the flow and brush those thoughts out of your head. You finished up just in time, your doorbell ringing as you put the finishing touches on your outfit.

"Wow, chaparra. you look.. phenomenal," he told you as soon as you opened the door, butterflies taking flight in your stomach. You stepped aside to let him come inside and he handed you a bouquet of flowers. You thanked him and went to go set them in a vase, putting them down on your dining table. "Ready?" He asked you once you finished up and you nodded, grabbing his hand as he led you out. You locked up behind you and the two of you headed to the date he had planned out.

He ended up taking to you to the art museum and you had a suspicion that it'd been because you mentioned that you wanted to go. "So, how was your day today?" He asked you, holding your hand as the two of you started to walk around the museum. You told him what happened today and you expected him to call you out for quitting your job, but he did no such thing. "I'm proud of you for finally standing up for yourself. You've been miserable at that job for months," he told you, stroking your hand as he walked next to you.

Though he protested some, he still let you take some pictures of him with the paintings. You had to step back a couple feet just to capture his entire frame and he couldn't help but laugh at the distance that you'd created. He took some pictures of you as well, capturing you in the frame perfectly. "Y'know if this whole Alchemax thing doesn't work out, you should be a photographer," you told him as the two of you walked through the exhibits. "With all the technology available, you seriously think there's a need for photographers?" He asked you, looking down at you as he held your hand. "Well, just because it's available doesn't mean that everyone knows how to work it," you responded with a small shrug. “Touché."

He ended up taking you to dinner after the two of you finished walking through the museum, taking you to a nice area of town. "Hi, what would you like to order today?" The waitress asked, facing Miguel as she placed her manicured hand on his shoulder. You had to restrain yourself from saying something to her especially given the fact that Miguel wasn't committed to you yet, but you couldn't help the jealousy brewing in your stomach. "I'll have a medium rare steak with a side of rice, please. And a coke," he ordered and the waitress scrambled to write it down on her notepad. She started to walk away, not paying any mind to you until Miguel called for her to come back.

"What do you want?" She asked you, the annoyance on her face evident as she looked at you. "I'll have a shrimp alfredo with a coke, please," you told her, trying to remain polite. "Are you sure you don't want a salad? You look like you could benefit from it," she responded, letting out a laugh at her own joke. You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked up at her, still trying to restrain yourself. “No, what I ordered will be fine," you told her through gritted teeth, clenching your fists together.

Though you were aware of the struggles that waitresses went through as a previous one yourself, you felt no sympathy towards that woman with the way she acted towards you. The worst part about it was that Miguel seemed to be oblivious to the way that she acted around him, making a point to come to the table every 3-5 minutes to check up on him or see if he needed anything. He noticed the expression on your face and his brows furrowed, his hands holding yours now. "What's wrong?" He asked you, his eyes trying to read you properly. "That waitress keeps flirting with you and you don't even realize it. And the worst part about this whole thing is that I can't even be jealous because you're not even official with me," you told him, letting go of his hands as the waitress came back with the food.

The rest of the dinner was a bit awkward, with some minor conversation about how the food was. Though, you could appreciate that Miguel told the waitress that he wasn’t interested. He escorted you home and he lingered for a couple seconds in front of your door, his hand not letting go of yours. "I was gonna ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend today. Not because of what happened at the restaurant or anything, but because I can't think of wanting to be with anyone else other than you. I’m sorry if you didn't really feel that way," he spoke up after a while of silence and you turned to look at him, feeling guilty for snapping at him during dinner. "I'm sorry if I ruined dinner, I didn't mean to. I was just.. confused about where we going in this whole thing," you told him, rubbing his hand reassuringly.

"So, will you be my girlfriend?" He asked you, a little smile appearing on his face. "The answer was always yes, idiot," you mumbled, holding on to his shoulders for support as you kissed him. You opened up the door to your apartment and led him inside, thankful to the gods that you'd cleaned up the apartment and bought that new set of lingerie. He closed the door with his foot as he kissed you, locking the door with the best of his ability before he hoisted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you to your bedroom, your lips intertwined on the way there.

He placed you down on the bed, hovering above you as the two of you continued to kiss, your hands intertwined in his soft curls while his rested on your hips. He slowly pulled the dress down, his eyes widening a bit as he saw the lingerie you were waiting. "Should've skipped dinner and just went straight to dessert," he mumbled, his lips running through your neck as he kissed it. He bit down on some spots, careful not to inject you with any of his venom as he left some marks on you. "Just in case you're ever confused about who you belong to again."

He stripped off his clothes and sat down next to you, spreading your legs so he'd get easy access to your wet cunt. He brought up a finger to your lips, tapping on your bottom one so you'd open up. You wrapped your mouth around his finger, looking at his eyes as you coated it with your saliva. He pulled away and ran that finger down your folds, collecting extra slick. He pushed the tip of his finger inside, teasing you as he pushed it and out slowly. You let out a small whine for him to do something more but you only received a laugh in response. "Use your words," he cooed, his thumb gently pressing against your clit. "Please," you begged, looking up at him with your best 'fuck me' eyes.

"Please what?"

"Please use your fingers."

"Is that not what I'm doing?"

You wanted to let out a whine at his relentless teasing, the words in your mind turning to mush already from how needy you were. "Please fuck me with your fingers," you managed to tell him and he kissed your forehead. "You should've just said so," he responded condescendingly, stretching your cunt out with this one finger. Your hand wrapped around his cock, collecting some of the precum that was leaking out and lathered it all over the shaft. You kept a steady pace as you tightened your hand around him, just enough to simulate the feeling of your cunt. Your hips began to ride Miguel’s finger, your cunt eager to receive some sort of friction. He let out a moan as you cupped his balls with your other hand, your thrusts never halting.

Miguel’s palm worked up against your clit, providing you with stimulation as he pushed another finger inside of your cunt. Your walls clenched around his fingers, a tight grip around them as he moved them in and out. You curled your toes as you felt his thumb rub small circles on your clit, the sensation filling your veins with need. Your mouth was parted as you begged him to keep going, your moans filling up the room. You gripped his forearm as you came, your vision spotting as your juices coated his fingers. He brought his fingers up to his lips, sucking your juices off like you were the finest nectar.

You used both your hands to jerk Miguel off now, a tight grip on his shaft as you moved your hands up and down. He let out a small hiss as you brushed up against his tip, being a little sensitive there. You brought your mouth down to it, swirling your tongue as your hands worked to get him to that climax. He held your head in place as spurts of cum flew in your mouth, your cheeks hollowing to receive everything that he would give you. You eagerly swallowed down his cum and he pulled you in for a kiss, the taste of you and him combined overwhelming your senses.

He laid you down on the bed and kissed down your body, leaving small marks on your breasts and your stomach before he sat up. He gave his cock a couple pumps before he kneeled closer to you, placing just the tip in. You let out a small grunt as your walls fluttered, trying to accommodate to his size. "Hey, calm down. Take a couple deep breaths for me and try to relax," he tried to reassure you, his hands rubbing small circles on your thighs. You nodded and began to focus on your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly. You did this a couple more times until you felt relaxed, gesturing Miguel to move afterwards.

He pushed the rest of his cock in one swift motion, giving you some time to adjust to the stretch. "You're so good taking me like this, mi vida. We have all night, there's no pressure," he whispered, leaning into give your neck a couple kisses. You did the same thing as last time, focusing on your breathing rather than the stinging between your legs before it started to morph into pleasure. You nodded and looked over at Miguel, and he started to slowly move his cock out of you. He started off slow, giving you plenty of time to adjust as you found necessary.

"You can speed up," you told him and he complied, his thrusts getting faster and deeper the more your cunt swallowed him up. Your hands went to his back, scratching him as he thrusted deep into you. He leaned over, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples as he ran his mouth on the neglected bud. You couldn't help but moan at just how stimulated you felt, your hand reaching down to rub circles on your clit. He swatted your hand away and replaced your hand with his own, his mouth moving to the other breast. "You just lay there and take it, baby. I’ll do all the work," he mumbled, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he sped up.

One of the ridges of his cock brushed up against your g-spot as his thrusts got deeper and you gripped his shoulders tightly. He took that as an indication and adjusted the angle so that his cock would brush up against the gummy spot with every stroke that he took. His thumb worked on rubbing quick circles on your clit and you felt that knot inside of you tightening up, threatening to snap loose at any time. "That's my girl. taking it so well," he told you and you came with a moan of his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you did. You could hear a squelch with each thrust that he took as he chased his own orgasm, his thrusts getting sloppy quick. You looked up to see his blood-red eyes already looking at you and you brought him in for a kiss.

He came as soon as your lips came in contact with his, overwhelmed by everything around him. He managed to pull out in time and his cum was leaking onto your stomach. You picked some of it up with your pointer finger, licking it clean as you looked directly at him. He kissed you as you did, the taste of him and his essence intoxicating. He pulled out of your cunt slowly and walked to the bathroom, bringing a small towel to clean you up. He led you to the shower and lathered you up with soap, going for another round after he saw how eager you were to take him.

You woke up the next morning and frowned upon not seeing him there next to you, not expecting him to leave in the middle of the night. You got up and walked to the kitchen, seeing your boyfriend cooking breakfast in the kitchen. "I didn't wake you up, did I?" He asked when he turned to look at you, his hair sticking up in all directions. "No, I just thought you left," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you took in the sight. Miguel had stayed and he was dancing to a bachata song playing in the radio as he cooked breakfast. "I'd never leave you, mi amor. Breakfast's almost done, just sit there and wait," he told you, kissing your forehead.

He ended up making huevos rancheros for the both of you along with some fresh coffee. "Did you mop?" You asked, looking up at him as the smell of lavender Fabuloso filled your nostrils. "I did, yeah. I accidentally spilled some of the milk," he responded, taking a bite out of his eggs. The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a couple minutes before he spoke up. "Did you like last night? Is there something you'd like me to improve on?" He asked you, taking a sip from his coffee. "No, it was good. I liked it. You were attentive to my needs and everything," you assured him, finishing up with your food a couple seconds later.

He ended up calling sick to work that day and spent the day with you in your apartment. He sat down with you on the couch as he looked through job postings with you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. "You're too smart for another waitressing job. You didn't get a college degree to settle for less. Choose something that's gonna make you happy," he told you as your fingers hovered through a restaurant gig. "But what if I'm not good enough?" You asked him, still stuck in that bubble of wanting to do something familiar. "You're going to be more than good enough. And if one job doesn't like you, then there are more jobs out there," he responded, kissing the top of your head.

"Miguel?"

"Yeah, chaparra?"

"Te amo." (i love you)

"Y yo también te amo." (and i love you too)

@skulfan1

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zombiigrll · 27 days

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LONELY ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1061 ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst to fluff, swearing, depressed/traumatized reader, reader is glenn and maggies adoptive child, intended lowercase, the walking dead 7x1 spoilers, death mentions, lack of eating, suicidal thoughts, use of y/n .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hi! this is my first time writing and posting anything on tumblr so im sorry if its not the best </3 ive never really done oneshots before either so i dont really know what im doing LMAO hope you still enjoy!

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it was supposed to be an easy run. get maggie to the hilltop and get her help, that's all it was supposed to be. but, of course, nothing could ever be that easy. not for you. the last thing you expected to see, however, was your father-figure getting his skull beaten in, and almost having to witness your boyfriend getting his arm chopped off. you were distressed. you couldn't function properly. you had already lost your family once before at the beginning of the outbreak, and all of those same feelings came back after losing glenn. he had been there for you since the start, saving you from dying with your family. and now he was gone and there was nothing you could do.

you had fallen into a deep depression, similar to the one you had before. you locked yourself in your room, not eating, not drinking, occasionally getting up to use the restroom, but other than that, you were bedridden. you hadn't even changed your clothes from that night. the clothes that were stained in glenns blood. hell, even his blood remained dried across your face. you felt as lonely as ever, but at the same time, you knew you weren't. because every single day you heard knocks at your door. it was carl.

"y/n, please. just open the door. i can help you." he desperately spoke from the other side of the door.

you felt like shit for making him continue to come to your door everyday just for you to stubbornly remain in your room, but it felt like nothing mattered anyways. eventually, he'd give up, right? that's what you thought. "go away." you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. "just open the door. please." he begged again. he understood your struggles. he was aware of why you were acting this way, and he couldn't blame you. he knew how it felt to lose family members and people close to him. unfortunately enough for him, you stayed where you were, not opening the door for him yet again. but after almost a week had passed, he began getting more worried. he begged at your door for you to open it, he tried opening it himself but you had locked the door, blocking it as well so no one could enter. you didn't care. you were isolating yourself, barely sleeping. the only times you slept were when you cried so hard you fell asleep. you felt miserable. you were giving up on everything, hoping one day it'd all just end and you wouldn't have to worry anymore. you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else dying, because you'd be with them. no more funerals, no more fighting for your life... you laid awake on your bed, tears silently falling from your eyes as you stared blankly at your ceiling, those terrible thoughts swirling through your brain. but this night was different. you had opened your window, which carl took as the perfect opportunity. he was tired of not being able to help you due to your stubbornness, so he decided to crawl through your window. *thump!*

you quickly jolted up at the sound, staring at carl who was slowly sitting back up after not-so-gracefully falling into your room. he grabbed his hat and placed it back on top of his head before looking over at you. you stared at him with tears glazing over your eyes, your face scrunching up as you brought a hand to your mouth. "i..." you were speechless. your emotions got the better of you and you began sobbing. he quickly walked over to you, cupping your face with his hands as he looked down at you sympathetically. "don't cry..." he softly spoke, but his eyes quickly noticed the dried blood that was still on your face. "y/n..." "i-i'm s.. sorry." you sobbed, averting your eyes as you crossed your arms around your waist. he shook his head as he softly acknowledged your beat-up appearance, moving your arms from covering your waist as he pulled you in for a big hug. "don't be sorry."

you quickly returned the hug, squeezing him tightly as you sobbed into his chest. he broke from the hug, looking back down at you and your bloodstained clothes. "let's go get you cleaned up, yeah?"

you silently nodded. he helped you stand up and you almost fell over, but he quickly caught you. "...let's get you something to eat, too." ... the two of your were now in the bathroom. he helped you sit down on the seat of the toilet before grabbing a rag, getting it wet before walking back over to you. "this is gonna be really cold." he smiled warmly, slowly bringing the rag up to your face and wiping the blood off. you flinched slightly at the touch. as he's cleaning your face, his face turns a bit perplexed. "why... why didn't you open the door?"

you avert your eyes to the ground as you begin messing with your hands. "i just wanted to be alone, i don't know." carl looks at you with a bit of a somber gaze before continuing to clean you up. "i'm sorry for breaking in. i was worried about you. just... please, don't do that again. if you ever need help, i'm here. you know that, right?" "i know..." you looked up at him. "i didn't want you to see me like this. i..." you began tearing up again as you spoke. he quickly sets the rag down and puts both his hands on your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. "i know, i know. it's okay." shortly after, he pulled you in for a quick kiss, his hands remaining on your face as he pulled away. he uses one of his hands to wipe away the stray strands of hair over your face, tucking them behind your ear. "you're so pretty. you know that, right?" he smiled warmly. "i love you." you laughed with a smile, a tear rolling down your cheek. "i love you, too." "let's go get you some new clothes, okay? and some food. i'll make you whatever you want." carl asks, grabbing both your hands. you nod, standing up in sync with him as you followed him back to the room. god, you were so lucky to have him. ─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

#🌙 — maxines fics #the walking dead #carl grimes #twd #carl grimes x reader #carl x reader #carl grimes one shot #twd x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead oneshot #the walking dead imagine #twd fluff #twd angst #fluff #angst #carl grimes x y/n #carl x y/n

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months

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hii! it’s me yet again. just resending the link. thank you!! 😊

https://www.tumblr.com/little-miss-dilf-lover/740301214616616960/hi-how-are-you-ive-been-reading-your-fics-for-a

hii angel!! really loved writing this!! link - but will summarise to save the search. thanks for requesting, hope like it💌 not back yet, this was in my drafts

MISSED CALLS.

tangerine x fem!reader

summary. tangerine doesn’t answer your calls when he’s away on work. one night you think you hear a someone breaking in

word count. 968

warnings. angst!! little bit of hitting (reader hitting tan) hurt comfort bc it heals my heart and wound cleaning

The severity and extreme conditions of Tangerine's job often left you feeling vulnerable - alone hundreds of miles away as you wallow in worry. Castaway with no way of keeping tabs on him, no way of confirming whether he was dead or alive.

This particular mission had you in all sorts of perpetual grief - in an everlasting spiral of dread as you await his calls. For the last week, you eagerly lingered by the phone, waiting for him to give you updates - anything to let you know he was okay. But you never once received a call - not even a quick, measly text.

It was late, the evening dark and quiet as you set up in the kitchen, wanting to distract yourself from the fear of him being gone by making a hearty dish - cooking your favourite meal to ease the ache in your heart.

Pulling out the ingredients from the fridge, you place them on the counter beside the board and knife, setting everything down on the surface. You pause, stopping still as you hear the sound of faint scuffling from behind the front door - the noise of heavy footsteps.

You grab the large knife from the chopping block, clutching it tightly in your fist as you back away from the window, shrinking in on yourself to minimise being seen. Without a second to think otherwise, you find yourself following the sound, territorial footsteps leading the way.

Standing beside the grand wood door, clasping the chef's knife with the blade pointing down - holding it in the angle Tangerine taught you. Stilling your erratic breath, you pause, hearing a familiar groan from behind the oak.

The jingling of keys confirms your theory, and you yank the door open, the immediate feeling of relief easing your shoulders when you see him on the other side.

"Oh my god," you gasp, dropping the knife to the floor - pulling him in for a hug. "Oh my god," you repeat, shock evident in your breathy tone.

Tangerine drops his duffle bag, gripping you tighter, hands clasping around your mid back - holding you like he didn't want to let go. "I'm so sorry," he mutters, his words full of sorrow. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, clutching you in a tight embrace.

"Why didn't you call? I was so worried," you whisper, squeezing him, relishing the feeling of his upper body. "You didn't even text... nothing," your tone subtly changes, the juxtaposing emotion of anger slowly creeping in. "You didn't text."

You back your head away from its spot in his neck, pulling away. "A whole week— nothing. How could you do that?" you remark, tone growing pointed.

"I know, love. I know—" he starts, his words soft and heartfelt though you were in no mood to hear it this second.

"That's so fucked up," you retort, trying to pull away from his tight hold. "So selfish," pushing and hitting at his chest, attempting to free yourself. "Let go— you're so selfish. You— how could you do—" you continue, words breaking when he doesn't release you - his hold still firm around you even with your hitting. "A whole week."

"Darlin'," he coos, pulling you back in. "I know," he adds, words faint as he mutters them into your forehead - clear regret in his voice.

He slips his hands from their hold on your back, moving to the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks as if to calm you - ground you. Making you look him in the eye, and only then do you really see his face, finally taking note of the cuts and scrapes and bruises marking his skin.

"You're hurt," you mumble, teary eyes darting over his face.

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead. "Bit of'a bosh," he weakly smiles, trying to lighten the mood.

You give him that all-too-knowing look, a faint grin lining your lips as you slip from his hold, weaving your hand into his. Leading him into the kitchen, you guide Tangerine to the table, making him sit.

You rummage the cupboard under the sink, collecting the medical kit and a glass of water - setting it all down on the table before washing your hands. You pull out a chair beside him, dragging it closer to take a seat.

You tear open an antiseptic wipe and carefully dap it around the gash above his eyebrow, cleaning the bloody skin. "Lucky it doesn't need stitches," you murmur, eyes focused on the wound.

Tangerine doesn't respond, not even a hum - appearing as though he was preoccupied, just intently gazing at you as you mend him.

You part focus from his eyebrow and sift through the first-aid box. "I'm sorry for hitting you," you whisper, keeping your gaze down. "That was..." you raggedly exhale as you squeeze antibacterial cream onto your index, reaching to smear it on his skin. "That was stupid of me— shouldn't have done it," you shake your head, brushing off the thought.

His head cocks to the side in disapproval. "Don't say that," he softly scolds, his tone still warm and loving. "You don't need to be sorry... for anything."

You slump back into your seat, finally looking Tangerine in the eyes - finally meeting his gaze. "I thought you were dead," you admit, fidgeting with your fingers.

He notices your uneasy hands and places his over yours - large palms engulfing yours, the sentiment immediately comforting you. "I'm okay, darlin', I promise," he says softly, squeezing your hands. "I ain't ever gonna let that happen, okay? Ya'hear me? I will never let that happen."

"But what if when—"

"No," he cuts you off, his single word firm and gentle. "I will never put you through that."

#request #abbiesrighttoe #tangerine #tangerine angst #tangerine x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine bullet train

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skzcollision · 2 months

Text

take the breath that's true | lee felix (1/2)

pairing: non-idol!lee felix x fem!reader

content info + tw: time travel, angst, fluff, felix is called yongbok in this, wrote this when i was sleep deprived lol, violence + bullying

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

It had begun as a small lie, really. A lie so good, you believed it yourself.

"I'm taking a semester off."

You would be doing a paid internship to fill that time, so it's not like you're not doing anything because god forbid you take a break from your studies to backpack through Europe or something so useless. Your parents would have a stroke.

And then, you did the unthinkable.

You dropped out of university.

Got a full-time job at a bookstore. Began living life peacefully, all the while deceiving your parents who lived a few hours away.

The liberation you felt by doing this was nothing you had ever experienced before.

Of course, it had its drawbacks. You were practically living a lie. Because you dropped out of school, you no longer saw your friends every day. They often hung out without you, and over the years, you eventually turned into something of a social recluse.

You had one good friend from work who invited you to go out every once in a while. Each time you declined because blowing out your eardrums whilst standing in a room packed with strangers either drunk or high on something never really appealed to you.

Soon enough, you reached a place of discontentment.

Would your life have turned out any better if you pushed through with school?

That was something you wondered about every single day.

"Are you eating well?"

The line fell silent, save for the distant sounds of your mother chopping up something on her cutting board. You could hear something boiling on the stove.

You stared blankly at the bowl of instant noodles by your sink.

"Yes."

Another small lie amongst all other lies.

"You sure?" She pressed, disbelief evident in her voice. "Why don't I come over there sometime, fix you up a proper meal-"

"No. Mom, you don't have to do that. It'll just be a waste of gas, I'll be really busy these upcoming weeks."

"Well, when is your break? It's been a while since you've last visited us, you know. Your poor father has been wanting to see you, he misses you."

Your mother knew just how to pull at your heartstrings.

"I know, I miss you guys too. I'll visit on my birthday, okay? In a couple of months, I promise."

Seven years ago;

They were at it again. The three biggest pompous assholes of your grade.

This time, it was this short, lanky kid. You recognized him from homeroom.

Your eyes flitted to his so-called friends, turning away sheepishly when he looked to them for help. Just one moment ago, they were all at their table, talking and laughing.

Why was no one doing anything?

Just as you were lifting yourself from your seat to inform a teacher - someone, anyone - another boy stepped in front of the smaller one.

The bullies were blocking him from your line of sight, but you could see that he wasn't much taller than the former. They were still towering over him.

"Isn't that Yongbok?" The girl behind you whispered to her friend. "He does taekwondo, right?

"Yeah... but there are three of them. And they're double his size."

You promptly slid out of your seat, gripping onto your metal lunch tray. Your friends glanced at you in a snap, all visibly concerned. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just..." You didn't get to finish your sentence as you neared the guys. Not that you knew the answer to that anyway. You were acting on pure impulse.

Now you could fully hear what they were saying.

"Rich guy, huh?"

They were apparently laughing at the boy's choice of accessories. He wore a gold watch on his wrist. It did look quite funny on him - only because it seemed a bit too big and grown up for the boy.

Something did surprise you, though.

If he was intimidated, he was great at hiding it. It was as if they were all having a normal and friendly conversation. On the other hand, the kid behind him was close to wetting his pants.

"So, if you're done talking to my friend, we would like to have our lunch now."

This did nothing to defuse the situation.

"What did you just say?"

Sweat pooled between the palms of your hands, the utensils clattering as they shook in your tray.

Your mind flashed to the first week of school. That kid, who got beaten up so badly he was coughing up blood.

Was this just going to keep on happening?

Without much thought behind it, you drew your arms back and flung your tray at them as hard as you could.

It made an audible plunk as it collided with the back of their leader's head.

There was momentary silence before the cafeteria exploded with stunned gasps and sputters of laughter. You remained frozen at your spot, arms still above your head. Your lunch was now on his white shirt, staining it orange.

"Who the hell-"

Everyone in the room was staring at you. Your gaze fell to the boy with the gold watch. He looked afraid now.

But not for himself.

You were so, damn lucky.

One second, you were receiving the deadliest stare from the scariest guy at school, and the next, a teacher had come to break them up.

For the next few days, you went everywhere with your friends. Needed to use the restroom? Needed to grab something from your locker? The whole group was coming with you.

You had never once been so scared for your life.

One afternoon, one of your friends had overheard the bullies talking. They were teasing their leader for letting you off the hook so easily. He apparently refused to bully a girl - a cute one at that.

"Oh my god, ew. Unbelievable." You shook your head with an expression of disgust. "There's no way. You made that last part up."

"He really said that!"

Your friend next to you released a wistful sigh, pursing her lips. "I wish someone would fall in love with me right after I'd just chucked a full tray of food at them, too..."

Things weren't so easy for gold watch boy, though.

He became their target. And he made it so easy for them, too. Every time any of them had a problem with anyone, he would be there, at their rescue. Taking their place. He didn't fight back either.

You just didn't get it.

How could someone possibly endure that much? That had to have taken a physical and mental toll on him. Yet you would see him in the hallways every single day, with that same bright smile. Despite the cut on his lip.

They kept getting interrupted on school grounds, so the bullies had made it routine to take him somewhere after school. You decided to follow them one day, and you were led to an alleyway just a couple blocks away from school.

Why didn't he just run away? You had seen him on the track. He was one of the fastest in your grade.

"... just not on my face, guys."

You ran and snuck up behind some stairs, peeking over the railing.

Whatever he had said earned him some scoffs.

"Pretty boy doesn't want his face ruined."

"What a vain little shit."

Yongbok blinked widely, almost innocently - as if it was all just one little misunderstanding.

"Oh, it's not like that at all. It's just my mom... I don't want her to know about any of this."

"Alright," the biggest of them all chuckled, lip curling smugly.

Your heart twisted in anger.

"We can have that arranged for you," he ambled towards the boy.

"Sike!"

His body turned, and his foot suddenly shot up out of nowhere.

You winced with your entire self as the boy stumbled back, holding himself up against the brick wall.

"Shit..."

From your angle, you couldn't tell what exactly happened. But you knew you had to do something before the situation escalated.

You could swear your whole life flashed before your eyes as you sped towards them, yelling. "Stop!"

"The hell?"

"It's that bitch that threw the tray!"

You stopped just a few feet from them, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. A deep sense of regret - then anger, at these stupid bullies, and at yourself for not knowing what to do next and just charging at them like an idiot.

Someone then yanked on your wrist, ending your train of thought. You were forced to move on your feet again as Yongbok dragged you with him through the alleyways. Several voices followed, hollering at you - but you couldn't register anything they were saying as you were focused solely on getting away.

It felt like it had gone on forever. Fortunately, you had run into some policemen, and that managed to scare the guys away.

You now sat at a convenience store, icing Yongbok's jaw where a bruise was starting to form.

"Man, what am I going to do about this?" He clicked his tongue as he stared at his reflection. "This isn't gonna go unnoticed - and I'm running out of excuses."

You were brimming with anger once again.

"Why do you let them do that to you?"

He stared at you, dumbfounded.

"If they don't pick on me, they'll just pick on someone else."

He had said it so plainly and simply. It was mind-boggling. You genuinely could not tell if he was the bravest and most selfless person you had ever met or just an idiot. Somehow, you felt he was both.

You walked away momentarily to pick up something from the cosmetics aisle, paid for it and went to sit back down again.

"So..." You began as you gently dabbed some coverup on the bruise. "You think this makes you like some sort of hero then?"

"Hadn't thought about it that way," his eyes darted across your face absentmindedly. "I'm sorry I didn't get to thank you, for the other day. In the cafeteria."

You waved him off, cleaning your finger on a piece of napkin. "You take their hits on purpose, don't you. I can tell."

He bobbed his head, looking down at his shoes.

"And you dodge some so you don't end up seriously injured."

You sighed through your nose in exasperation. "Why haven't you reported them?"

"You don't know, do you?" He gazed out the window. "Nothing will be done about it. One of them - his father donates large sums of money to the school."

"Doesn't make him untouchable."

"It kind of does."

You hated it. That deep down, you knew he was right.

Yongbok slid a packet of ice cream towards you. "Here," he grinned. "For saving me from the bullies, twice."

Present;

On the ride home, the car passed by your old high school. It did - every time you came back.

And you were always left wondering what ever happened to that freckled boy since you last saw him.

If he was happy, and if he was doing better than you now. You hoped so.

It was comforting how much had remained the same, as if you had never left - a time machine in a way.

You longed to go back.

To the summer before you began your first year in university. The last time you were ever truly happy.

Despite it being the night before your actual birthday, your parents had thrown an event for you. So many people had shown up - neighbors, old friends from high school that stayed back.

It felt very reminiscent of the past when everyone would get together, and you slept that night content for the first time in a very long time. You dreamt of your life before, how those warm memories felt closer than ever now that you were here.

Such happiness...

"Wake up, my precious girl~"

A grin was spreading across your face before you could even fully open your eyes. You ignored the ache behind them as the sun greeted you first thing.

Your mother smiled kindly back at you, her fingers gently combing through your bedhead.

"Mom..."

"Hm?"

"Can't I stay here..." You mumbled. "Stay here forever?"

She laughed softly, and your smile grew at the sound. "Don't you want to see your friends today? They must have something planned for you."

"My friends?" You rubbed at your eyes, still disoriented from sleep.

"C'mon," she stood, patting your leg. "Let's get up. I've prepared breakfast."

With your eyes half-shut, you felt your way out of the room and sat yourself on a wooden chair.

Your mother settled a bowl of soup in front of you on the table. "Happy birthday, sweetie..."

"I have something for you." Excitement shone in your father's eyes as he pushed a dark blue box towards you.

He didn't... again?

"Dad, you don't need to get such expensive gifts."

He chuckled heartily. "Can't I get something nice for my only daughter just this once?"

You flipped the lid open and grew puzzled at what was inside. It was a simple, silver necklace with a round diamond pendant. The one you wore every single day.

The one your father gifted you a few years back. It was the first time he had spent so much on a present.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, but dad - isn't it..."

Everything felt eerily familiar.

You shot up from your chair, and headed back to your room.

"What's wrong?"

You searched for the necklace on your nightstand where you had placed it last night, then on the floor, if it had fallen by any chance.

It wasn't there.

As you rose to your feet, your eyes caught the screen of your phone.

What? It couldn't be right. Yesterday was Friday... so shouldn't it be Saturday?

"You guys aren't... playing some sort of prank on me, are you?"

Your parents glanced at each other with momentary confusion, then back to where you stood in the hall.

"Are you that surprised with my gift?" Your father laughed, then beckoned you over. "Come on, you can put it on now. Then we can eat."

It was happening again - all of it.

The things your parents said at breakfast, you wouldn't have been able to recall it but now that it was in front of you all over again, there was no doubt about it.

Everything was the exact same.

You looked in the mirror and had bangs again.

Your phone was blowing up with the same messages from your friends in that old group chat.

This only meant one thing.

He was still here.

⭒

#lee felix #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #skz fanfic #skz felix #lee felix fluff #skz fluff #stray kids #skz x reader #skz

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breadandblankets · 18 days

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CivE Duke - inspired by this post by mysterycitrus

This was one of Duke's favorite parts of his job. Not that one, the other one, the civilian one.

"Duke Thomas," his mother had told him when he got his engineer's seal crimp in the mail. "Is every bit Gotham's hero as much as The Signal is."

Every other week it seemed he donned his steel toed boots, hard hat, and high vis and went to look at the bones of some old building.

Most days were sat at his desk in a nice comfy high rise in Old Gotham, eyes glued to the searing white of some ancient as-builts on his screen. (As-builts, especially in Gotham, were more of a suggestion than a rule, his team had started calling them "Maybe-builts" and it fit more than he'd like.)

Gotham, in Duke's experience, had good bones for the most part. Even caked in years and years of grime, asbestos, and mob snitches, there was beauty in pulling away the facade to look at all that union-made bessemer steel.

Today on the chopping block was a Park Row mid-rise, slated for either refurbishment or demolition, all depending on Duke's word.

It wasn't anything even close to the rush of saving a life, but there is a light feeling he gets, knowing that some old structure can be reused.

Duke knows its a little silly to get sad when something old is beyond saving, especially when he signs over it's death.

"It's like a forest fire," his dad had told him once, after he watched his first controlled demolition. "You gotta burn out the dead things so new things can live."

This building though, Duke has a good feeling about it. Or at least that is what he tells his trainee, Ines, while he scans the building with his X-ray vision.

Ines Borja is a bright kid fresh from the hell that is Gotham U's CivE program, she's not a Gotham native but while living here she fell in love with the city (and it's cost of living). According to her, New York isn't much worse, Gotham's just weirder.

Weird is, unfortunately, Duke's bread and butter. They pick through delapidated rooms with crumbling sheet rock with mostly intact concrete encased steel. He spots some areas with crumbling concrete that he points out to Ines, who dutifully takes photos.

"Those are areas we'll need to test for water penetration and corrosion," Duke explains.

He's explaining other testing that will need to be done, radar of the foundation, metallurgical testing, etc, when they hear yelling outside.

For a moment Duke ignores it, but the hard walls carry echos of what's being said.

"I'm not going to ask again, your money asshole!"

The flat thud of a notebook hitting the ground is the last thing Ines hears as Duke takes off like a shot.

His site walk boots are heavy, much much heavier than his Signal boots. They're for protection and insulation from the hard concrete he has to stand on all day. They're so not meant for running, he thinks as he barrels out of the survey site and around the corner.

There are two figures in the alley when he stomps into the scene, slipping his hard hat off. The mugger is on the younger end, thats about all the analysis Duke gets to do before he sees the gun.

It's nice sometimes, Duke things, as he spins like a discus thrower, to fight normal city problems. He's liable to get bogged down in big world ending shit that sometimes its just nice to save a mugging victim.

The reinforced plastic leaves his fingers in a rush, aimed straight and true, slamming into the gun in the mugger's right hand.

Both the mugger and muggee have a moment of shock before Duke slams into the first guy like a freight train, knocking him out of the confrontation and onto the ground.

"I'd advise you sit down for a moment," Duke says to the would-be mugger, flatly. He turns to the shaking older man.

"Sir are you alright," he asks politely.

"I am now," the older man, well dressed but not wealthy in the way that Duke knows people in the town are. "Thank you very much."

"Alright then," Duke says calmly, he fishes in his pockets for one of the many business cards he always keeps on himself. It's for a therapist, and a good one in Duke's opinion. A profession in too short supply in Gotham. "Might be best if you get on with your day, I'll stay with this young gentleman here."

The older man is clearly a true Gothamite, because he doesn't protest, just moves along. Probably not even the most traumatic thing the guy's witnessed in the last year.

Duke turns to young man on the ground, who hasn't moved a muscle from where Duke put him just a second ago.

"Hey man I don't want any trouble."

Ines chooses this moment to catch up, her skin flushed and she's panting, She is still carrying all the gear with her, which no doubt slowed her down.

"Bit late for that yeah?" Duke questions with a raise of his brow, he motions with his chin in the direction of the gun. It's a couple yards off, resting comfortably with his hard hat. "What's your name?"

"David sir, i-its not even loaded, just to scare people a bit," all comes out in a rush, the young man, David, is clearly terrified.

"Hey, I know, it's hard out here," Duke placates. Out of one of the seemingly endless pockets on his work pants he pulls out his wallet. Out comes two more cards and a couple of bills. "Listen, here's fifty bucks, go get yourself something to eat."

"I-"

"Hold on, I'm not done," Duke says. "This is the information for Leslie's clinic down the street, she can help you with a lot, or just point you towards someone who can. If you need anything else this is the Wayne Ent outreach office, the director there is Elaine, tell her Duke sent you."

"You- you're not going to call the cops?" David asks, bewildered.

"And have them do what? You're robbing a man for twenty dollars with a gun that has no bullets," Duke observes. "You clearly don't need jail time you need a hand."

As if to illustrate his point, Duke reaches out to help him up. David hesitates for a split second, before accepting the offered hand.

"Seriously thought," Duke continues. "Leslie and m-Elaine helped me though some of the worst times of my life okay, reach out to them, they can help, you're not in this alone."

David looked like he was about to cry.

"Thank you man, just thank you."

"Just looking out for my fellow man," Duke replies. "Now get going I got work."

David laughs a little at that before shuffling awkwardly by Ines. Duke turns to look at her.

"You are like, officially the coolest boss I've ever had," she tells him seriously.

"No way, didn't your last boss bow hunt wild boar?"

"Yeah but that's jack all compared to my Apparently incredibly based current boss."

Duke chuckles: "You don't even know about my teenage years."

"What, you were doing child anti-cop anarco-communist action?"

"More or less."

"Based as fuck," she says, amazed.

Duke just shrugs.

"My mom always said: never accept the world as it is, make it better. And so I do, so i will."

Duke turns a little, to look back at the mid-rise that will have new life breathed into it sooner or later.

So I will.

#duke thomas #batfam #duke practiced extensively to get that hardhat throw down btw #hes a bat he's prepared for anything #bread talk #my fic #i wrote this on the clock #so if its bad at least i got paid #ask me about construction engineering lmao

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abarbaricyalp · 4 months

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Written for the @sambuckylibrary Valentine's Bingo fill: Secret Admirer

5 times birds try to tell Bucky he has a secret admirer and 1 time a human does

Rated T for brief Canon typical violence AO3 Link

Blithe Spirits, Higher Still and Higher

Truthfully, Bucky was hiding. Not well. Not in any substantial kind of way. He was sitting on a bench almost directly outside the front door of the New Avengers Compound. Anyone on the south side of the building would be able to see him. Still, he was not anywhere near any kind of AI system that could tell people where he was or could ring out to him to join some inane meeting or the other. Bucky was not very good at the bureaucracy of this job. Sam said he was an excellent trainer and he established good relationships with the younger heroes that came through the compound, but Bucky was fairly certain that was where the compliments ended as far as his work here was concerned.

He hated it. He hated the building. He hated being in DC. He hated the transient nature of everyone who came through the door. He had a house in Louisiana where he was close enough to the Wilsons to stop by when he wanted. The only good thing about being here was that Sam was usually here as well.

So he took breaks outside as often as he liked. The bench was just big enough for him to lay out on without having to incline either his head or his feet on the armrests and the backing was tall enough to block out the sun after 1:00pm. He really liked this bench.

He was absorbing enough sunshine to stave away the AC chill in his fingers when a bunch of rustling interrupted the otherwise quiet afternoon. He dropped his arm away from his eyes and glanced to his left, searching for the intruder to his quiet afternoon. He expected one of the kids trying to wrangle him into a sparring match, or a handler trying to wrangle him into a desk.

Instead, there was a crow bouncing towards him with a bundle of wildflowers in its beak. It kept throwing its head back at him in some sort of display. He sat up on the bench and the crow jumped up to stand next to his leg. It deposited the flowers on his thigh.

“Where did you get these?” he asked with a small smile. The flowers were nothing extraordinary, so he didn’t assume the bird had taken them from anyone’s hands. Except maybe a nearby child who’d been collecting them on a walk. But Bucky disregarded this theory. They were of the usual suspects as far as flowers went. Some yarrow and laurel and even bluebells. The stems were chopped fairly neatly, which didn’t suggest that the bird had ripped them from the ground.

Actually, if he thought about their origins much more, he was probably going to get a headache.

“What’re you gonna do with them?” he asked the bird instead, like it could answer him. He collected the flowers in a loose grouping and held them back out, but the bird didn’t take them. Instead, it hopped away again. “You’re leaving them with me?” he surmised.

The bird bobbed its head. It cast one more glance over Bucky and then flew away. Bucky took the flowers and, after glancing around to make sure no one could see him, closed his eyes and pressed them against his nose.

II.

Being back in New York felt much more comfortable than being in DC, even if he was once again stuck in a stuffy building. This time, he was doing more paperwork than he thought should be allowed of one person after saving the world for the umpteenth time. As soon as their assigned agent had turned his back, Bucky had vacated the office seat and headed for the nearest food truck.

He’d asked Sam to come along, but had been flatly denied. He was trying very hard not to take it personally, but he wasn’t really succeeding. Sure, he wasn’t half the flirt he’d been in the 30s, but he held his own in this brave new world. He picked people up fairly easily when he wanted to.

The only problem was that he hadn’t wanted to. Not for a long time. His attention had quickly and fully shifted to Sam. But Sam was remarkably resistant to Bucky’s attempts to woo him. Despite the fact that they got dinner together all the time, or went to see a new movie often, as soon as Bucky started asking with the express intent to make further moves on Sam, Sam became absurdly good at skirting his invitations.

This wasn’t even a move. He just really wanted a hotdog. He figured a walk in the sun would be good for Sam too. But, no. The paperwork and their deadlines and getting shit done.

Whatever. Bucky was in New York again. He wasn’t going to waste the precious few hours he had in his loud, noisy city again. Certainly not by embarrassing himself in front of Sam or pushing his boundaries.

Bucky knew this food truck and he was more than a little obsessed with it. When he’d been goading Sam into coming with him, he hadn’t lied by saying he literally dreamed about these hot dogs when he was in Louisiana. This line, the warm summer sun, it was all worth it as he got to the front of the line and reached for his wallet as he began to order without looking at the menu.

He stopped halfway through, which the vendor didn’t even clock, just mumbled, “Yeah, with the relish and extra mustard, I remember.”

“No, wait,” Bucky said and patted his pockets down again. The back ones and then the front ones and then his own waist, where his jacket would usually sit if he was wearing one. “I don’t have my wallet. I must’ve left it in my coat.”

“I think I can spot ya’ this time,” the vendor said in the sarcastic, but loving way, of a brash New Yorker. “You just knock my truck outta the way next time aliens attack.”

“No, no, I can’t,” Bucky insisted, the ghost of his mother’s good manners curling low in his stomach. “I was gonna get a handful. I don’t wanna put you out. Just give me a second. I’ll be right back.”

“Barnes!” the man called after him, but Bucky was already striding away.

He didn’t get very far. A very large pigeon posted up in front of him. Bucky tried to sidestep it, but it followed him across the sidewalk.

“I’m not in the mood,” he told it, which made someone walking past him snort. “Actually, I’m kind of in a rush and I’m starving.”

The pigeon didn’t budge. Instead, it reached under its wing with its beak and produced a twenty dollar bill. It threw the bill on the ground between them.

Bucky blinked at the bill and then at the bird. The bird cocked its head back at him. Did birds blink, he wondered. Surely they must. Flying in the air and everything. They’d need to protect their eyes.

“Go return it,” he said, nudging the bill back towards the bird without actually stepping closer to it. This bird was clearly a criminal. Who knew what it’d do next.

The bird picked up the bill and flung it at Bucky with a palpable distaste. What was going on here? Bucky was in a hunger and hotdog aroma fueled dream. His stomach chose right then to growl like he hadn’t eaten in years. He’d literally had a huge bagel this morning. (There’d been a point to prove to Sam about the frankly appalling bagels in DC.)

Still, his stomach was growling and no one was shouting about theft by bird or chasing this pigeon down. So…he took the bill and got back in line. The pigeon followed after him, letting itself get distracted by the scraps on the ground along the way.

“Found a twenty in my pocket,” he explained to the vendor when he got back up to the front of the line.

The man looked like he may have been skeptical but wasn’t interested enough to actually care. Bucky ordered two hotdogs with the promise he’d come back tomorrow for his handful. Not that he was going to get away with feeding Sam hotdogs two days in a row. Not unless one of them came with broccoli instead of mustard.

He started away from the food truck with his semi-ill-gotten gains in hand when all of a sudden a sharp pain stabbed through his ankle. He looked down with a scowl and found the pigeon basically glaring up at him. Again, with the birds having eyelids thing. He was going to google it as soon as he got back into the room him and Sam were locked in.

“What?” he asked. “It’s a barter system. I don’t have the money anymore.”

The pigeon bobbed its head like it knew what a barter system was. Then it looked pointedly at Bucky’s hotdog. Ah, Bucky thought. It was a barter system. He tore off a piece of his bun and tossed it at the pigeon. Without another look, the pigeon grabbed the bread and flew away.

Literally what was going on?

Read the rest on AO3 here!

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #sbvday2024

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betbeton · 1 year

Text

𓆱 Survival of the Worst

Strade × Reader

Beast Y/N Series

Warnings - Blood, Violence, Cannibalism, Elk Y/N, Prey Becoming Predator Trope, Mildly Sexual Content (Described Male Arousal, Groping), Strade

18 + Minors DNI

Enby Y/N

✎ i will never write a cat y/n 🔪

Links are broken - other works are linked in BtD & TpoF Masterlist

It was wrong. The way blood and meat were forced down your throat. The metallic tang so inherently disgusting to your, once plant sated, stomach that bile rose up from your throat whenever he came down to feed you. The disgust running rampant in the very crevices of your psyche had a dry heave rocking your now ghostly body. You were a litch in all, but name. An elk that was sustained on the flesh of the people they were forced to gore with their beloved horns... It was wrong. You didn't like this, it all made you want to curl up and die... Or worse it made you want to become the predator.

Your life wasn't always these several concrete walls, stained with blood and other bodily fluids. It wasn't always the Red Room you were forced to participate it. You had been content and happy once, a bloom amongst the muck and grime of the world. A soft hearted person who went out of their way to help others... Now though? You were barely a wisp of the person you once were, there wasn't any of the proper you left. It had all been taken, perverted, into a sick caricature of the elk that stood proud with their chest puffed out. You were prey, a glorified toy who once they lost their shiny charm would be sent to the chopping block like every other poor unfortunate soul to be dragged down those stairs.

Once you were dead, then what would you be? Freedom was an illusion even when off the physical spectrum. Certainly you would be a tortured spirit left to roam the lands wailing for retribution... Screaming for revenge. Was that your future to be the wailing elk ghoul who haunted an upper class neighborhood? To be the poor lost soul talked about at campfires to frighten children... To be that monster's next meal?

It was WRONG. You were a person, sure you had large antler and floppy elk ears, but you were more human than he ever would be. The beast that stalks the streets at night, a greased monster who's perverted gore slut mind ruled his world... And by proxy your life. Even that damned fox, skittish and demur wanting more to be a human and shed his animal visage was slowly becoming a power hungry monster - you could see it in his eyes. Both of them disgusted you. This new bastardized version of yourself disgusted you.

The world disgusted you.

Every last person in it was horrible, selfish, worthless. You didn't truly believe that... not yet. Not with a man screaming and crying for his god to save him while staring directly into your eyes. No, some people had worth just not those two creatures. They deserved one another. Strade and Ren. Ren hadn't harmed you yet, but you could see the predatory glint in his eyes each time you were brought up those gods damned stairs. He wanted to rip your throat out with his teeth and consume you whole. Just. Like. Strade.

The beast that you so tried to ignore began gnawing away at your very sanity when a large blood soaked hand clasped around one of your antler tips. Your head jerked forward and a sickeningly sweet pat pressed to your shoulders before you were urged forward slowly. The tear of flesh and muscle almost deafening as the man prayed to a higher power for salvation and rescue. Gods didn't exist, surely if they did they wouldn't have created Strade... Then again many gods are described as cynical and cruel... It doesn't matter in the end though. Everyone ends up stuffed down your throat after they're dead.

The hands on your back urging you forward moved in tandem as a sweaty, warm, body pressed to your bare back. Blunt fingernails digging into your skin hard enough that blood welled and dribbled down grease and gore slicked hands. Body stilling on its own you could feel your own tepid fear clawing away at the back of your throat, that little voice telling you to rear your head back and stab Strade, but you couldn't. There were too many what ifs, you could miss or worse he could enjoy it and you end up strangled to death all while a greased rat bastard of a man ruts away in your hole seeking release.

You didn't have time to spiral into a hole of what ifs or disassociate as your head was ripped back, the antlers you so adored goring the poor sod man further as his intestines threatened to spill out of his body. It always amazed you how much abuse person could take before they died. At one point this curiosity had been just a mild morbid interest... Now though as your chest and genitalia were groped while Strade watched the man writhe and scream in pain you wondered how much more you could take. Surely you were nearing your limit... Right? Yes that had to be it. You had to be near death yourself to find the way the poor man's organs strained against his slashed gut as they tried to spill out fascinating.

The man finally passed out - or died - from blood loss mere moments before his lower intestine finally spilled out of the quickly widening cuts on his stomach. The disgusting hard arousal pressed into your back as you were fondled like some type of toy had bile rising up in your throat. Hands clenching and releasing as you tried to will away to homicidal thoughts and disgust plaguing your tormented mind. It didn't work. The thoughts only grew as your body twitched violently enough to dislodge Strade's hold on your slightly... That was the only opportunity you needed as you reared your head back and stabbed your antlers into his shoulders. The angle of your neck was painful, but that only fueled the adrenaline and the monster in your mind more.

Turning quickly as Strade stabbed his pocket knife into the side of your arm you dislodged your antlers and stumbled backwards falling onto your butt as you stared at the greasy bastard of a man. He had an irate expression as he held a hand to his throat, a horribly familiar gargling noise leaving his mouth as he wheezed in a breath... You had hit something extremely important in your blind attack. It took several long seconds before his eyes dulled and his body slumped, but finally you were free. Though your ears flattened to the sides of your head as soft clawed footsteps descended the stairs.

#btd x reader #btd strade

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yuriskies · 11 months

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CSM and Film Language

Gonna step outside the yuri bubble for a moment and talk about how I really like Chainsaw Man and how Tatsuki Fujimoto makes it so expressive through a particularly thoughtful use of film-inspired visual language.

There's a really nice example in the most recent chapter (#135). Spoilers after the break

Here's a quick recap for those who don't follow or haven't kept up with Chainsaw Man. Asa is a teenaged girl who is partially possessed by the War Devil, who forms an alternate personality named Yoru (depicted as a version of Asa with a scar across her face). Yoru has promised to give back Asa full control of her body once she has fulfilled her role in a plot to kill Chainsaw Man. At this point, Asa's life has been saved multiple times by Chainsaw Man, and she's getting increasingly hesitant about killing him. Only one of them is in charge of the body at a given time, but they spend their time bickering with a visualization of the other. In chapter 135, another devil (Famine), shows up offering Asa and Yoru a chance to both get what they want.

The chapter starts with Asa and Yoru arguing with one another about Asa's feelings for Chainsaw Man. They're shown standing on opposite sides of a table, and subsequent panels have a shot/reverse shot composition. It's a pretty direct visual indicator that their viewpoints are completely opposed to one another.

After a few pages arguing back and forth with one another, Famine interrupts their argument by suddenly appearing at the table. They're both surprised, and are subsequently framed side-by-side. They're now both on a similar wavelength: figuring out why Famine is there. In the final panel of this page, the framing also is used to show that Famine is now in control of the conversation.

I really like the gag on the next page and want to take a second to call out how nicely the paneling works to complement it, and how the gag also works to emphasize that Famine is now running the show. It uses the same shot/reverse shot framing from the earlier argument, with increasingly close shots of Famine's face to emphasize her insistence. The zoom in is mirrored in the first two Asa/Yoru panels, and then suddenly a far shot in the last panel. Each of the shot/reverse shots show Famine taking up more of the page, visually showing that her resolve to have her question answered first is winning.

A neat little touch here is that Asa is standing in a karate-chop fighting stance and Yoru in a fists-balled fighting stance. These kind of symbolize their differing approaches to managing conflict, with Asa's open hands representing appeasement and/or a technical approach, and Yoru's fists representing brute violence.

Famine remains in control of the conversation by getting up and digging through Asa's refrigerator, only looking at Asa and Yoru to make a point. Finally, Famine lays her offer on the table: a way for Asa and Yoru to both get what they want. During this entire conversation, Yoru has been in control of Asa's physical body, but once Famine makes her offer, she cedes control to Asa. There's a nice little visual touch of Yoru closing her eyes, and Asa appearing when she opens them.

Famine talks to Asa for a moment to convince her to go along with the plan. When Asa appears to be convinced (in part because Famine has played on Asa's sense of guilt), Yoru seizes control of the body again. This is shown in the opposite way of the graceful, multi-panel composition of Asa taking control, instead it's a jarring, single-panel transition.

Famine then convinces Yoru of the plan by revealing that the Chainsaw Man Asa wants to save and Yoru wants to kill are actually two different entities. Asa and Yoru's mutual acceptance of the plan is shown visuall Asa is shown standing just over Yoru's shoulder with her face slightly blocked by Yoru's. The location of Yoru's eye overlaps with Asa's eye, symbolically showing that they're now more or less on the same wavelength.

In a nutshell, this chapter highlights one of the things I really love about Chainsaw Man - the use of cinematic language to efficiently portray character dynamics and to show without telling. Chainsaw Man is by turns gory, juvenile, goofy, tragic. What keeps it together is a core thoughtfulness to the storytelling conveyed through the careful use of the form. It makes any one part of the story - even the goofiest, most juvenile gags - feel less like they're in there just to get a cheap reaction from readers, but instead a core part of the story. Chainsaw Man wouldn't cut nearly as deep otherwise.

#chainsaw man #tatsuki fujimoto #visual language #cinemetography #manga

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kosmic-arts · 6 months

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It is Once Again Time To Complain About Things That Don't Matter

358/2 days is definitely one of the better written kh games, but don't let that fool you. its not like the bar was very high to begin with (i am only partially joking).

i love days, but there is so much wasted time and space in that game. i despise how much characters fainting, falling asleep, having amnesia, and gotdamn brainblasts, are constantly used as plot devices because the writers don't know how to organically move characters along to the next plot point(this goes for all of kh, not even just days). the entire novelty of days is getting to play on the bad guy's side while getting an intimate look at all the cool badass org members, and yet you hardly get to know any of them over the course of the game. barely any time is taken to flesh them out, which is a complete travesty btw, and even axel- who is one of the major supporting characters- ultimately takes a backseat to roxas and xion's emotional angst. its good emotional angst, but theres no reason for it to overwhelm the entire game. and honestly, even roxas himself takes a backseat to xion's even bigger emotional angst! roxas hardly gets to know who or what he is, whats going on, or what for. roxas is a complete passenger, and as time goes on i struggle to see the value in that, even if it does feed into the overall themes of his story and his own emotional angst.

because, look: xion was a passenger as well; she had no choice in her situation, only the illusion of one that riku offered her. and yet, she still was allowed a moment of agency. roxas tried to do the same after xion's death by going to kill the organization(which frankly, he could've killed every last one of them- get real), riku stops him and refuses to explain or reason with roxas to get him to consider another way. riku just proceeds to taunt him. whwhy i find it hilarious that riku took pity on xion because she reminded him of kairi, but the guy who's literally his best friend's nobody whom he is currently fighting to save-... he acts like a bitch to, and refuses to give him any of the same consideration that he gave to the girl. what the fuck is that

what is with the complete and utter disrespect of roxas in his own game- >>specifically<< by the people who should be his allies. remember that bit at the end of days where roxas is about to leave and confronts axel for answers, and practically pours his heart out begging axel to help him?? axel refuses to tell him who sora is and that he’s sora’s nobody, etc. ok.. maybe he’s afraid of getting shot by the organization because it’s classified information. no, fuck that. its a major part of axel’s character is that he puts his own desires and wants before his job or duty. and! he also cares a great deal about his friends, even above his own wellbeing. he helps xion escape the organization when he was on that mission with xigbar. he didn’t even have an excuse to protect himself when xigbar interrogated him for letting xion go- axel could’ve gotten shot then and there for helping the traitor. he straight up put his neck on the chopping block for xion’s sake.

so then, why now with roxas, does he refuse to do anything at all to help him? he’s done shit before like lie to roxas in a vain attempt to make him happy- axel cares about him! he wants to help him, especially when hes sad- and in this final moment, roxas is in complete despair. axel could’ve very easily been like “well i cant tell you,, but maybe some other guy could… uh idk his name starts with an R”. god almighty it would’ve been so easy to just nudge roxas in a direction while still covering for himself if he was still worried about that. but no, completely out of character, axel just abandons roxas to possible execution(of which he would likely be the one to carry out) by the org for rebelling, without even giving roxas the slightest lifeline to find the answers that he deserves.

man i just lost the entire topic going on an whole ass side tangent…. what even was the topic to begin with idk im complaining about days. i'll proceed with a spicy hot take! get ready. when xion died, all memory and evidence of her existence shouldn't have been erased. yes. as depressing of an idea as it is- like, her friends aren't even allowed the luxury of cherishing her memory when she's gone, i think we all know why it was a bad move in the long run. xion getting wiped from existence was a poorly veiled excuse to avoid having to explain why nobody talks about her in other games- while also just straight up being able to get away without really mentioning 99% of what happens in 358/2 days to begin with. even as a kid i knew this was shit and i still think it's shit now, and the fact they had to pull a memory wipe trick like this is even more proof that the writers of kh are absolutely abysmal at tying their stories together or thinking ahead at all. or more like, they shot themselves in the foot daring to implement important plot details into spin-off titles in the first place. chain of memories started this trend, and even that game had to pull the memory wipe trick at the end of the game so as to not stunt players who didn't happen to own both a ps2 and a gba.

its a really asinine trend that has indisputably ruined kh with each installment. like, you can't be serious. in order to understand the main villian's(xehanort) motivations, i have to play 2 games and a casino, to have a full understanding as to why this old fuck wants to blow everyone up. for the longest time, i didn't understand why xehanort was concocting this decade long masterplan to attain kingdom hearts, UNTIL i happened upon the kh wiki. this is so sad you cant make this shit up you can figure out within the space of kh1 why ansem wants kingdom hearts. he's a power hungry mad scientist that went batshit insane in pursuit of knowledge. a classic victor frankenstien-esque character archetype. its so easy! I understood that without issue even as a child. too bad they couldn't just do that again with the next major villian! tbf, even xemnas' goals were extremely simple-...... until they added in the bit where he was lying to the entire org about them not having hearts or the ability to feel and yadayada... what was he trying to accomplish with that stunt again? don't get me started how stupid xemnas lying is. you've gotta be shitting me. like, are you saying that intelligent scientists like zexion and vexen wouldn't figure out such an obvious lie? what about lexaeus? luxord? really?? these aren't stupid people. at least one of them would have figured it out. would've been a good opportunity to give marluxia a reason to have been trying to pull a coup(besides wanting power???) because he figured out xemnas was a manipulative fuck and marluxia decided to take initiative and overthrow him. i love marluxia, but damn, the entire time i was playing com i had no idea what the fuck his motivations were.. why does he want to take over the organization... was that ever mentioned? …huh

but wait wait, i just went on another massive side tangent. i want to go back to talking about xion. i would've much preferred if we got to see moments of roxas and axel struggling to come to terms with losing one of their only friends. like, how would axel handle being completely powerless to save her, and frankly unable to even be there in her final moments? maybe he would've turned on the organization much sooner, because how could he ever continue working for the group that split him apart from the 2 people that really matter to him. that'd be interesting. roxas could eventually cool down, and simmer into a depression AND NOT GET THROWN INTO A SHITTY SIMULATION BECAUSE RIKU SHOULDVE BEEN NICER TO HIM. huh what- and maybe roxas might feel inclined to give up, but meeting with namine could be some reassurance to him because she tells him all that stuff about how he won't disappear and there's hope for nobodies like them!! honestly, just seeing the characters having to grapple with the pain of their past and actually talk about it instead of vaguely wincing about things they feel but can't remember would've been so much better. i get it, it's a mildly entertaining trope- characters suffering emotional wounds they don't remember receiving, or acting in strange ways in deference to old traditions they can no longer recall... yeah i get the appeal, but it doesn't make for a very strong story in the long run, especially with an event as major as xion's sacrifice. why can't characters be allowed to grow from their past and have character development. i like it when a character's history influences them in meaningful ways that isn't entirely superficial.

heck man, idk. you get the point. days is full of amazing ideas and has a fantastic premise, but like all things in kh, it struggles to hold up as soon as you examine it with the barest amount of scrutiny. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#kingdom hearts #kh #kh 358/2 days #roxas kh #xion kh #axel kh #ramblings #ive decided to supplement my ultra long rambly posts with a line break and some gifs to make the experience of reading less excruciating #hope its better than my other unedited walls of text #it feels good just to rant into the void though #ive had these thoughts for a long time man #i love days but why does it have so much untapped potential #why does every game in the franchise have so much untapped potential this is why i hate it. and why i love it #i hate it

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mae-i-scribble · 2 years

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Random thoughts about the orv epilogue pt. 1/??? After finishing orv a few days ago I have so many thoughts circling around my head and I’m hoping by posting them I can help internalize the mass of emotions sitting in my chest because this novel has fucking destroyed me. First thing up on the chopping block: kdj scattering his soul and how it seems that hsy and yjh misinterpret it initially.

From the moment we see kdj get on the train, we know that above anything else, he wants to be with everyone and the only reason he’s becoming the oldest dream is to keep the universe working so that they can keep on living. He sends out the memories he thinks will be needed (and even then he isn’t able to give away all of the memories, he cherishes them too much to make it a 50/50 split). It’s so incredibly telling that even when he supposedly sent away all his memories of their time together, the very first thing kdj does after breaking down is to go watch their story, the one of his companions. And then immediately has to pull himself back out because the *longing* is so strong it literally manifests in a physical breakdown. He distracts himself by going back to the story he’s always loved, ways of survival, and spends his probability to make everyone as happy as he possibly can (notably yjh bc yeah they are the emotional core of this novel but i digress), even if it doesn’t matter, even if no one will remember it besides him, he does it anyways.

On the other side of things, kimcom is eternally torn up about this choice. Hsy and yjh want kdj back whole, while others seem to be okay with just having the part of kdj that remembers them, because it was the choice he made and they want to respect it. Here they understand that kdj becoming od was done for their sake, and they despise it. They decide to get him back because they cannot have kdj if he isn’t whole. However, when they finally manage to get there, to see kdj as od, they can’t get him back. The fourth wall says it’s because they were greedy, and that kdj knew they would come for him and scattered his soul to prevent them from ever finding him. And hsy and yjh *believe it.* Not only do they come home empty handed, they come home thinking that the person they did this all for never wanted them to do so in the first place. It’s reflected in the way that yjh says “Do you think that fool has become a little bit happier” after he and hsy fight at the museum. At first yjh saw it as another sacrifice kdj made on their behalf, but even after 2 years, he’s still questioning, still wondering if this isn’t what kdj wanted all along. It’s not enough to stop him from trying to get kdj back, but it’s enough to leave him questioning.

With hsy on the other hand, she comes to terms with that same idea very differently. She puts all thoughts of saving kdj to the side, because she can’t deal with the idea of trying and failing once more, it almost seems that to her, failing again would only solidify what the fourth wall said. But even more so it shows in her eventual plan to get kdj back. She wants to read him his story in the hopes that it will make him *want* to be with them, and thus come back to his original body.

Both reactions show that everyone is missing a fundamental portion to kdj’s motivations: the reason why he scattered his soul is because he wanted to be with them too much. The loss of his memories and the scattering of his soul was a natural effect of being od, but he makes the choice to scatter his soul so that he won’t have to deal with the agony of being alone for any longer. It’s also why hsy’s plan is destined to work. The epilogue to her story is the same one kdj has always truly wanted to see, but never allowed himself to imagine.

Part 2 | Part 3

#orv #omniscient reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv spoilers #omniscient reader spoilers #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #han sooyoung #anyways throwing myself into the nearest river im so emo #im not being very smart or eloquent but yknow #this is mostly just me screaming about emotions #if i was being serious i would have looked up novel quotations exactly #im so normal about the ending of orv #obviously

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jvolt04 · 10 days

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An excerpt from my Fate/Stay Night x Fire Emblem Fic:

The Ruined Future - Ylisse

(Lucina P.O.V.)

"So, what do you think our parents were like back then?"

I looked at Inigo, grateful that he had tried to lighten the mood. He, Morgan, Brady, and I are on our way back to Ylisstol, Naga's mission in mind. "Well," I reply, "Mother used to say she was a lot more cynical before she met Father. I also remember her saying that Father was more impulsive before his injury."

"Y'know," Brady added, "I heard Aunt Cordelia and Aunt Sumia both had crushes on Uncle Chrom."

Well, that's surprising. Inigo, voicing our disbelief, says, "Seriously?"

"I know, right?"

"Wow, they really just said "screw the love-triangle", huh? Or would it be a love square, because of Aunt Rob-"

At the snap of a twig, a decade's worth of experience got the four of us into fighting stances, facing the noise. A group of Risen warriors appeared from behind the trees to our right.

Inigo and I immediately get in front of Morgan and Brady, the latter two ready to support while we prepare to confront the Corpse Soldiers. Before they can reach us, however, the space above us starts to crack open. Lines of multi-color light appear amongst the treetops, like the air is being cut by a blade of rainbows. My friends and I back away from whatever this is, and I would seem that our undead foes have enough sense to follow suit. Eventually, the lines converge into the shape of a person before it shatters like a cocoon, revealing a red haired boy with a white cloak. He stays in the air for a split second before he falls to the ground with a surprised yelp.

"Ow..."

The Risen, now with a new target in mind, rushes red head while he's getting up from his prone position. Another victim to the Corpse Soldiers. Another head chopped off by an axe. Another stomach skewered by a lance. Another body riddled with arrows. Another person I couldn't save.

"NO!"

Before I can even register what I'm doing, I'm already rushing to the boy's aid. The first of the Risen brings its axe down, but the Falchion blocks the blade as I kick the undead dastard into its comrades. Some of the others try to flank the two of us, but are stopped by a wave of Elfire to our left and Inigo coming to protect our right.

"This is why Eisen makes the plans." the latter jokes while slicing off the head of a Risen.

I start to go through the motions, tearing through the servants of Grima. One of the zombies blocks my strike, and the redhead takes the opportunity to slip behind it with speed that would make a myrmidon jealous. Is he trying to flank it? Doesn’t he know that there are more behind-

“Trace. On.”

A curved white sword slices through the Risen at the waist. The two halves turn to purple mist before they can hit the ground. As the mist before me fades, I see the cloaked stranger sliping between the Corpse Soldiers, slicing them with dual blades. It’s hard to tell, but I think those blades are cutting through the Risen more easily than the average sword. An enemy axe slices him on the arm, but a blade comes out through the wound and skewers the foe who wounded him. He is a blur with his blades, cutting up his enemies as he works his way to the Risen Chief.

The Corpse Commander brings down its axe, the stranger blocking it with his swords. He kicks his undead enemy in the shin with enough force that I hear the rotten bone crack, the Risen falling (ironic, I know) to the ground from the shift in balance. The blade protruding from the redhead’s arm flies into the head of a Corpse Soldier behind him as stands over the Chief. The stranger puts his swords into a reverse grip and stabs his foe through its empty eye sockets, purple mist once again replacing the slain zombie.

The rest of the grunts were easily disposed of, especially with the strange redhead. When the last of the Risen are dealt with and Brady heals whatever wounds we may have sustained, the cloaked warrior turns to us with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, a smile all too common in this world.

“Uh, hi,” he says, giving an awkward wave, “I’m Shirou Emiya. It's nice to meet you.”

#fanfiction #fanwork #fate series #fate stay night #heavens feel #shirou emiya #lucina #fire emblem #fire embem awakening #crossover #crossover fanfiction

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notsolocalsimp · 6 months

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Rotten Ribbons

Chapter Eight

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

he tried to cook, but it didn't go as planned. he had made a mess of his kitchen, flour was scattered on the apron he wore, and all over the counters, who knew making bread rolls was so hard! he already prepared a simple meal of ramen, but he wanted to add something more to it. and now his kitchen was a mess he'd have to clean up later, the ramen was getting cold since he made it to early, and he just used brick ramen anyway. . . he can't cook for shit!

with a frustrated huff, he threw the ramen container in the trash, grumbling under his breath about how shitty this was. he had barely managed to keep a lid on the ramen after pouring it all over the counter. what a mess.

"ugh, why is this so horrible" he sighed, pulling his hair into a messy bun and looking at the recipe again, "why do I even need salt for something that's supposed to be sweet? it's banana bread!"

there was a knock at the door, and it happened to be you, he rushed over to the door, not even bothering to take off the flour covered apron. when he opened the door you took one look at him and began laughing.

"You look like a mess Aizawa!" you snickered "anywho, how's the cooking going?"

"oh it's. . . fine." he lied, avoiding eye contact.

You raised an eyebrow at his response, clearly not buying his lie. "hm. . . okay?"

"Look, I'm just. . . not the greatest at cooking. . ." he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I can tell" you chuckled again, setting the box you were carrying on the flour covered counter. "I also made some mint scones for dessert, but I think we might have to clean this mess up first. . ."

"We? no no no, I made the mess, I'll clean it up" he insisted, grabbing a small broom and dustpan from the linen closet, and began sweeping the mess off the counters "we can just order takeout"

"or we can cook together?" you offered with a grin, picking up the ramen and rice ball ingredients. "I know your favorite food is ramen, so I thought we could start there."

"...i guess you're right..." he relented.

"good!" you grinned at the defeated tone he spoke with and set the groceries back on the counter before heading towards the oven and grabbing a pot to boil the water. as you wanted for the water to boil, you offered a scone to Aizawa while he waited.

"I feel like I should be helping, not eating the scones you brought." he deadpanned, shaking the flour off his apron

"I don't trust you near an oven, Aizawa." you deadpanned "not after what I saw"

"wow" he had a hurt expression, before sighing "I mean I wouldn't trust myself near an over either. but still."

you chuckled, shaking your head before continuing to gather ingredients. after the water had begun boiling, you had managed to gather everything you needed, which included a large bowl of water, a wooden spoon, a plate of maruchan noodle bricks, and two plates that you filled with the extra ingredients.

"can you cut these?" you gestured to the two plates of extra ingredients.

"yeah, sure," aizawa grabbed a knife from the knife block and began cutting the Ingredients at the dining table as you cooked the noodles

once the noodles were done you added the broth seasoning packets because you were too lazy to make regular broth. Aizawa handed you the chopped ingredients and you began preparing the bowls.

"And. . . Done!" you said happily as you set the two bowls on the table before looking for the silverware. "uhh. . . where's your silverware at?"

"that drawer." he gestures to the drawer between the fridge and oven.

"thanks." you went to grab two forks, and handed one to him.

He slid the fork into the bowl of ramen and stirred the noodles before adding a bit of sauce.

the two of you ate quietly for a few moments.

"hey um, about the other day. . ." he began "I'm really sorry for taking you for granted even though you cooked for me, and then saved this night by cooking for us. . . again"

"oh it's fine, it's really not a big deal," you smiled, before taking another bite of ramen. "really"

he stared down at his bowl in disbelief. "so you just forgive me without a second thought?"

you rolled your eyes playfully before taking a bite of noodles. "of course, why wouldn't I?"

". . . because I was an asshole who took what you did for granted, and then when I try to properly thank you you have to go and save the day" he deadpanned

"well don't you need a break from saving the day? Mr underground hero." you laughed, pointing your fork at him teasingly.

"what's that suppose to mean?"

you looked up at him, feigning innocence and shrugging "you've been working hard lately."

"so you think I haven't worked hard enough?" he smirked mockingly.

"no way, you're working harder than ever!" you retorted defensively. "your literally a teacher and a pro hero! how are you not exhausted?"

"I mean I get 8 hours of sleep every day. . . I think" he admitted, blushing lightly and running his fingers through his dark hair, scratching lightly at the back of his head.

"okay, whatever you say Aizawa." you shook your head and picked up your drink. "now, about the normal dinner topics, what are your interests?" you asked curiously, leaning forward and resting the plastic rim against your lips once more.

he shrugged. "I mean I like cats." he then stood of and made a pot of coffee

"uhh, you realize it's like 7pm right?"

"yeah? and?" he turned around to face you with a mug full of hot coffee in hand.

"and what do you plan on doing for your evening once I leaveif I may ask?" you asked.

a mischievous grin slowly spread across his face as he walked towards your, standing behind you. "sleeping, I'm exhausted"

"I mean I can leave now if you want."

"no, finish eating at least while I think of conversation topics" he protested

"I can just look some up" you pulled out your phone and searched 'conversation topics for dinner with a friend' and quoted one "number one, what's a super common thing you've never done or experienced?"

"getting shampoo in my eyes" he curtly responded drinking his scorching hot coffee with a deadpan expression

"two things" you began "one, how the hell have you not gotten Soap in your eyes with that mop on your head? and two, that just come out the pot, isn't it hot?"

"how dare you speak to my hair like that!" he exclaimed, acting offended. "don't talk about my hair with such disrespect!"

"sorry" you chuckled "so, number two, opinion of pineapples on pizza" you asked

"never." he answered simply, sitting back down at the table. "I feel like the only fruit that should go on a pizza is tomatoes, and that's only for the sauce"

you continued to scroll through questions "number three, If you could choose anyone, who would you have narrate your inner monologue?"

"Kevan Brighting" you both said at the same time before laughing a bitawkwardly.

"um... okay." you giggled nervously, not used to having conversations quite like these with someone you didn't know very well yet. it wasn't like your relationship was completely new, you had met before, but it seemed like you would have to reacquaint yourself with each other sooner than later...

"these questions kind of suck. . . maybe we could just watch a movie or something" you offered "Maybe The Mask?"

"sure, I like that movie" he kneeled down to go through his CDs, and pulled out The Mask after a minute or so of searching. "here it is."

after putting on the DVD, you turned towards Aizawa and noticed he was already asleep. you decided to sit and finish the movie after covering him with a blanket covered with kitties.

you then wrote a note that said: 'I took care of the dishes and then went home, I hope that was okay!' before standing up and grabbing your bag, and heading home

once you got home you greeted your Norwegian Forest cat, Fudge, with a smile before feeding them and heading to bed. as you stared up at the ceiling, you thought about how funny it was that Aizawa wasn't great at cooking, maybe you could teach him sometime? or at least, he'd get better if you helped him a lot more often

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #bnha aizawa #ao3 #mha aizawa #writers on tumblr #writing #archive of our own

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aria0fgold · 2 months

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I dreamt about Detective Conan in which my brain made up an episode where Kogoro, Ran, Conan, Kaito (disguised as Shinichi), Megure (+some other supporting cast) are all in an isolated location figuring out a murder of a famous actor with the 2 main suspects being famous actors too and 1 of them is someone Kogoro idolizes (all male actors so it's not Youko) and is hoping to prove the innocence of but Kogoro being Kogoro, found incomplete evidence pointing to his idol as the suspect and was going through it while Kaito and Conan is figuring out the Actual culprit.

And then since Conan also doesn't have the full evidence yet, can't really put Kogoro to sleep so Kogoro got everyone back to the room where the crime happened for his deduction show while setting everyone's position up cuz he deduced that the culprit will be ambushing them first. It's like a small tatami room with a closet, there were people positioned by the window (that leads outside. by a cliff side. crazy house position), Conan positioned in the closet and Kogoro telling him to protect Ran by jumping out once the culprit arrives, "Shinichi" by the closet door teasing Conan, Megure and Kogoro is by the door that leads to the outside... cliff side... Also in my dream, Ran knows that Conan is actually Shinichi. Conan shoos Kaito away, called over Ran and was like "There's something I want to tell you in my original body." (Cuz he imagined Kaito with the Shinichi disguise wearing the Kaito Kid suit and immediately thought marriage)

And Ran was giggling all giddy bout what it could be, leans her back to the closet door, "Really? Can you give me a hint?" But then before Conan can reply to that, the door got busted down and in came the culprit, which were two, one was a kid. Both were wearing all black clothes with a black mask and had blond wigs (they aren't actually the actor "culprit" cuz that one was like a middle-aged man. The older one here looks like a teenager). Everyone was shocked like "Who are you?!" with Conan immediately coming out of the closet to jump in front of Ran protectively. And the two "culprits" said some short villain speech and pulled out a phone each (The older one's phone showed a timer, the younger one's phone showed a button). When the younger one clicked the button, the timer started (It's a bomb!).

Kogoro tried breaking the phone in half (karate chop!) but the older culprit was like: "Even if you break it, the bomb won't be stopped." And maniacally laughed and left with the younger one in tow (they apparently have a motorcycle outside). And before anyone can figure out their next course of action, Conan and Kaito were already moving to follow the two. They jumped out the window and Conan was like "Old man, throw the phone at me! Both pieces!" So Kogoro did, Conan threw the other half to Kaito (they're planning to throw it somewhere farther). Conan hopped on his skateboard waiting outside and Kaito got his windglider out. Buuuut, Conan put his watch by the bottom part of it (where a string is attached???) And when Kaito pulled on that string, the watch blocked the mechanism and the glider retracted again so he fell. But! He's safe. Cuz he fell not from a far distance and into a spring (yaknow that body of water type where it's like a small pond but not really??? I don't actually know. It was called spring in my dream).

When Kaito fell there, Conan watched just in case he needs to save him over something he didn't quite expected to happen (glider falling apart), Conan was like "Whoops," with a lil smirk then continued the chase towards the culprits while Kaito pouts at him all sopping wet. Buuuut, it was actually a good thing he fell there cuz dun dun dun! He found a folder dropped there which contains some heavy evidence bringing a step further on who the Actual culprit is. While Kaito was checking for other possible stuff also thrown in the water, he found a hidden safe, which is built pretty futuristically, but it's Kaito! He can open any safe with a proper amount of time given, so he gets started figuring out how to crack the safe, which seemed to be finding a 8? 10? digit code via it's minigame system. The minigame it has is like, for genuis type thing (even I didn't understand it, Kaito was just doing things and my brain was like: Okay he finished that section, and that, and that-- What he's doing? Don't think about it).

And then, just as he was about to open the safe... It ended D: Not my dream yet, but turns out "I" was watching a two parter episode of Detective Conan with my older sister sitting beside me on a pretty old model tv (yaknow the big boxes one) placed a little high up the wall. And the episode ended right at the good part and I was like reaching towards the screen like whyyyyyy and my sis was like "Time for bed." Cuz we were watching it pretty late already and I was like "But one more episode..." But well, my older sis won and it was time for bed and THEN I woke up. It was a pretty sweet end to my dream but also... THE EPISODE? D: WHAT ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT???

#aria rants #i woke up and immediately picked up my phone to write all this down before i forget bout it #i think this is a sign for me to watch detective conan again. its calling me #but also..... i want to know what happens next in my dream maaaaaan this is torture bro #my brain is torturing me giving me such a pretty good story and not even giving me the ending!#literally a cliff hanger that i wont even be able to know cuz i never had a dream continue in the next sleep!

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i-eat-deodorant · 2 years

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(snippet of something i’m working on. it’s coming along well, i think i’m around 1/3 of the way through. i’m excited!)

Their flock was gone. The ancestral lands they grazed on razed by trampling armies, the once-blue sky dark with soot coughed up by burning bluegrass. One by one, their parents, their siblings, their friends, their teachers–one by one the executioner’s great axe came down on their necks, until all they remembered was red.

Last of their kind. The guards pressed their body into the chopping block; they felt blood soak into their front, wet and thick and still very warm.

Nothing left to fight for anymore.

Lamb closed their eyes.

And when they opened them again, there stood The One Who Waits, chained and resplendent.

Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight. Maybe they were tangled up in some convoluted worship complex between the saved and their savior, the lost and his last hope. He waited for them–for centuries, for lifetimes; chose them amid millions of animals like blips beneath the stars–and they would make it worthwhile.

What Lamb knew for certain was that when they woke up from their death (death!), his gentle touch guided their hands onto the grip of a sword, empowered them to swing an arc in front of them. His voice was the lingering companion in their ear, urging them to settle down and rebuild their flock, recover what they lost and find who needed to be found. Purpose took form in the crown clung heavy atop their head, the unholy fire within their veins, the preternatural strength of their bones and muscles as they steeped in the power he gifted to them.

Years blossomed into decades, decades bloomed into centuries. Followers lived and died, faces blurring into one another until all they saw on those hopeful expressions were an obituary. Lamb crusaded, unrelenting: Darkwood, Anura, Anchordeep, Silk Cradle. And when they perished he was always there, waiting, time and ceaseless time again.

They got to know him well, in those countless years. Familiarity breeds contempt, the saying goes, but all Lamb was left with was a want to know more, to finally part the gaps of his veil and see him eye to eye. In his vast kingdom of nothing, his megalomania and desperation festered like menticide mushrooms.

Lamb would die, then he’d be left almighty and alone.

“This isn’t what you truly want.” They were not afraid of death. It just saddened them that this was it. “It took me the deaths of everything I loved to realize it. I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

He fought, of course. Lamb knew these incantations–the same ones coached to them through whispers, back when they were still stumbling like an hours-old foal with their newfound curses.

When they parried his strike, it was like they’d known him all their life. Step by step they danced this whittling dance, this rehearsed choreography.

But like all things, everything must come to an end.

And at the end of everything was Narinder.

#cotl lamb #narinder #narilamb #true devotion #my shit

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overdevelopedglasses · 8 months

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Tojoctober Day 17 - Sport

(It's a fight for our paradise)

Alt title is from “Savior”, the opening song of Astral Chain

While on the run after the 3K plan is enacted, Daigo makes a visit to someone who could at least assist in taking his mind off of things. Baseball ensues.

(Yakuza 5/6 spoilers)

—-----------------------------------

Daigo walks up onto the rooftop of a familiar building in Kineicho. He really hadn't moved all this time? Daigo wondered, looking at the small squat room in front of him, blocked by a door he didn't really recall being that put together. Still, it had been seven years since he was here last time, and he had told himself he'd visit more often, but business with the Tojo Clan had kept him within the confines of Kamurocho. Even now, things were happening in a very strange way, and Daigo was once again making a huge gamble, with only a few people even in the know.

If anything, this trip was to clear his head before he had to put it on the chopping block.

Daigo walks up and raps on the door twice. He hears a bit of shuffling, a swear, and the door opens.

The man on the other side doesn't seem to have changed too much. His shoulder length black hair is a bit more put together than it once was, and his scruffy mustache and beard were a bit more grown in. His brown suede jacket is entirely zipped up, which complimented his nicer pair of black pants he has on.

This man, one Tatsuo Shinada, doesn't say anything, but stares at the chairman, eyes and mouth wide.

“Um…. hi, Tatsuo.” Daigo shuffles around awkwardly, not entirely sure how to go about anything. He was too used to the yakuza, which is an even harsher adjustment when he's the one sitting at the top of the pecking order. He has to discern the people kissing up to him with the ones actually worth a shit. So, to speak to someone who's his equal, that's not something Daigo’s accustomed to, especially when they aren’t yakuza.

“Well, holy shit! Dojima-kun, you should’ve told me you were coming!”

Shinada's expression broke into a big grin as he enthusiastically clapped Daigo on the shoulder. "It's been too long!"

Daigo let himself chuckle, a bit of relief washing through him. "It really has. Sorry it took me so long to get here."

Shinada spins around and lets Daigo into his abode. It looks even better than when he was here last. All of the furniture that was now in the space looks more new than the dinky stuff Shinada had in here seven years ago. His futon, cabinets, everything just had a little bit more class to it. Shinada pulls out two different cushions, places them next to each other at the table, and the two men sit. Daigo stares at the table, a nice walnut finish, not exactly sure what to say or do. Shinada, thankfully, picks up the threatening slack.

"So, what brings you to Kineicho?" Shinada looks at Daigo quizzically. Daigo knows he can trust Shinada, at least, so there’s no need to beat around the bush. He makes eye contact with his former classmate.

"Well… there's a lot happening within the underworld, especially the Tojo Clan. I wasn't safe where I was, so my best men and I went into hiding."

Shinada looks bewildered, "So, are you supposed to be here, Dojima-kun?"

Daigo shakes his head "Save for the ones I left Kamurocho with, no one knows I'm here. Have to keep a bit of a low profile, sure, but no one said anything about not having a bit of fun," Daigo flashes a mischievous smirk, and Shinada begins to laugh.

"Well, damn, never expected you to be a rule breaker!"

Daigo starts to chuckle again, and the room is filled with laughter.

When the laughter dies, the two men quickly begin to fill the space with conversation. Daigo tells Shinada that he had gained and lost a father, which left Shinada looking both confused and worried. Daigo was quick to assure him that his advisors, sister's family, and uncle have been keeping him company. The Tojo Clan was a subject Daigo avoided, but after what happened in 2012, he is a bit relieved that Shinada didn't poke into that heaping mess. He does mention his trips to Okinawa, and Shinada asks if he could potentially join him one day, which brings a smile to his face.

Meanwhile, Daigo is shocked to hear that Shinada and Milky are planning on getting married, despite Shinada's living situation. Apparently he had been saving his money and hopes to get a house with her by the end of the year. He had started writing creative stories a few years ago, and was starting to make a name for himself as a writer. He had really found a second home within Kineicho, and Daigo’s heart warmed at this fact. He was already proud of his friend and former classmate before this impromptu visit, but he could sense his pride growing as their conversation deepened.

The long conversation found its way to passions, and Daigo mentioned baseball, as that was the start of everything for the two of them. Well, that and the yakuza. Daigo doesn't want to think about the second thing right now. Thankfully, Shinada answered his question with enthusiasm.

“Yup! I still frequent the batting cages, although it feels nice that I don't have to play it in secret. I've been coaching a few of the kids in town too! Wait a sec… Dojima-kun, do you even know how to play baseball?”

Daigo gave pause. Sure, he liked watching the local team, and his advisors (along with Akiyama and Haruka's unit) dragged him to a game one day a couple years back for his birthday. However, in terms of the game itself, he barely knew a baseball glove from a bat, let alone how to swing it outside of a fight. “...No?”

“NO??? Well, I know what we’re doing!” Shinada leaps from his seat and snags a bag sitting near his bed. He darts behind Daigo, grabbing both of the baseball bats that hang by the door.

“Tatsuo, I just said I have to keep a low profile!” Daigo shouted, but his words are lost on the man, since Shinada is sprinting out the door. All Daigo could do was sigh to himself and follow after him.

After a cab ride, where Daigo somewhat scolded, somewhat laughed with Shinada, they arrive at the baseball field just outside of town. The stadium is empty, as the baseball season hasn’t started yet, according to Shinada. Daigo stood in the middle of the field, on what Shinada described and he remembered as the pitcher’s mound. The winter air was cold, but refreshing, and Daigo finds himself enjoying the peace and quiet the field held within. All he could hear were birds and the occasional car passing by.

That is, until he hears his "coach" grunting in the distance.

“Dojima-kun! Could you help?”

Daigo looks to his left, and sees Shinada pulling on… a pitching machine? He only knows what that is from seeing one in the 80s at the batting cages.

“Where the hell did you find that, Tatsuo?”

Daigo walks over to grab the other end of the machine, and Shinada leads them back to the pitcher’s mound.

“I had a feeling there was one around here, at least there was one at my old field, and it turns out there was one here too!”

Daigo almost drops his side of the machine, “You mean to tell me you had no idea if there was actually one of these here?” “Doesn’t matter now!”

The two men place the machine on the pitching mound, and Shinada runs off to go grab some balls. Daigo is put in charge of getting the machine to turn on.

He looks around the machine, and finds a switch on the side of the machine. Flicking it into the “on” position didn’t do anything. He shakes the machine slightly. Nothing.

“Well… maybe this?”

Daigo decides to take a page out of Majima’s book, and kicks the machine at its base.

It roars to life.

“Nice job, Dojima-kun!” Shinada emerges from inside the stadium with a bag full of baseballs.

Daigo decides not to tell Shinada how he made the machine turn on.

“Thanks. Works like a charm.”

Shinada pours the bag of balls into the machine, then goes to hand a baseball glove to Daigo.

“Knowing how you were built several years ago, and from the looks of it you haven’t changed too much, I think the best fit for you is fielding. Essentially, take that glove- no, it goes on your other hand. I’m going to hit balls into the field and your job is to catch them.”

“Uh… I won’t get hurt by this, will I?”

“If you don’t get hit!”

While the statement doesn’t encourage Daigo one bit, there wasn’t a better way to spend the evening. He takes off his jacket, the T-shirt underneath not doing much to shield his upper body from the wind chill.

“Let’s do this thing, Dojima-kun!”

With the pitching machine fully working, the baseball field is filled with the noises of machinery, cracks of a baseball bat, and various noises from both men. Daigo doesn’t do too great fielding at first; some of the balls do smack him in various parts of his upper body, earning a loud laugh from the batter. Daigo soon learns where Shinada is most likely to hit the balls that come towards him. He ends up throwing the balls into the center of the field, sometimes landing them back into the machine, and Shinada always shouted in joy when he noticed it happening.

There is a point in their practice where Daigo decides to completely take his shirt off, the promise of unhindered sweat winning against the discomfort of the winter chill. He hears Shinada shout something about his tattoo, but he ignores it since he’s almost hit by another wayward ball.

After a long while, the last ball Shinada hits is a pop-fly, and Daigo, to his surprise, catches it, throwing it swiftly back towards Shinada.

“Nice one, Dojima-kun!”

Daigo shouts in victory, “Yooooooou’re out, Tatsuo!”

Tatsuo lets out a loud laugh, “You got me. You had great form at the end.”

Daigo meets him in the middle of the field, both men breathing heavily. The evening had turned into night, and the floodlights of the stadium were not turned on, leaving both men only illuminated by the moonlight.

“That was really fun, Dojima-kun. Thank you for indulging me.”

Daigo finds himself smiling. “No, thank you. I think I needed that. I’m supposed to be here for a few days… maybe we can come back out tomorrow?”

It’s hard to see in the darkness, but Daigo can just make out a sharp smile emerging on Shinada’s face.

“Of course! We’ll do it every day you’re here!”

The two men shared another laugh, and Daigo gets the feeling that this outing, the calm before what Daigo only assumes will be a storm, is going to be even more important than it already is.

#yakuza #tojoctober #rgg #ryu ga gotoku #daigo dojima #tatsuo shinada #let shinada out of the basement rgg #I know he's down there #give me a daigo/shinada LaD: Gaiden game or something #alright it's almost 1am and i'm eepy. time to sleep.

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