#and they replace it with some funny dark shit like ''spider-man kill him and his family'' or ''spider-man fuck this guy's ass''

[stairset]

I do feel like the way Kyoshi was written in the Avatar reboot was lowkey influenced by the fandom's perception of her. Cause like in the original show she's really just portrayed as a pragmatist who's willing to kill if necessary. Like Aang is conflicted about killing the Fire Lord and she's like "well if I were in your position I'd do it but that's just me. Good luck." And then people started making memes where she's like a murderous psychopath who thinks extreme violence is always the solution. And it was funny at first cause it was just exaggerating for comedy but now everyone thinks she was actually like that in the show when she really wasn't. And then in the remake her introductory scene is her angrily yelling at this 12 year old that he needs to stop being a little pussy and be a ruthless warrior or whatever and the only explanation I can think of is that someone in the writer's room maybe looked at a few too many of those memes.

#she had an awesome fight scene though so there's that #disclaimer i own both the kyoshi books but haven't actually read them yet #so this is just going off how she was written in the original show #i'm working my way through all my books that i haven't read yet so i'll get to the avatar novels soon #but i gotta get through a couple more star wars books first lol #but yeah you know those spider-verse memes #where they take the scene where jefferson says ''spider-man why did you create that guy'' #and they replace it with some funny dark shit like ''spider-man kill him and his family'' or ''spider-man fuck this guy's ass'' #that's basically what people seem to think kyoshi is like #avatar the last airbender #avatar kyoshi #shut up tristan

[guideaus]

tristamp ep 10 thoughts

zazie is info dumping again

idk if the orange writers think this makes sense, or maybe its wrong of me to use irl logic, but vegetation would not replace a magical resource that gives u water, electricity, etc., i think at best the air would get better lol

i dont know why conrad is info dumping either lmao

i cant say i like july's generic cyberpunk vibe. ik i saw a lot of ppl after tristamp wonder how anyone can even build anything in this world, and then tristamp does this with july lol

vash's sneeze was funny to me

vash is spider-man now fhdfjdsfds??? his flimsy little arm looks like it wouldve broke w 2 ppl

i just think its crazy they have a character finally say smth significant to vash and its another faceless goon

vash does not fucking respond to anything in this series

and that scene somehow felt like nothing

conrad's operation room has got some violations

and him just being like "yes, and here's where i do my experiments..." is so funny

i HATE eg mine being included. originally before any tristamp nonsense, i was like "hmm, wonder if knives shared some tech w his guns" but here eg mine apparently being associated with them... when knives just kills him. it makes no sense 😭😭

AND WASNT CONRAD JUST SHOWN TO APOLOGIZE TO KNIVES IN THE LAST EP??? in tristamp the plants arent really human (in the way that theyre probably fucking aliens or some shit 100%, not like in trimax where theyre experimented on humans to become something more, but thats how i always interpreted it), but even still why would he keep doing it lmao. "sorry, we're terrible" *keeps experimenting but in a slightly different way* ???

if he wants humans to basically become independant plants, wouldnt that be helping humanity in a way, why would knives allow that. i might be basing this on trimax's knives, but still. i think tristamp knives still hates people right? i dont think he'd be like "oh, so you're a plant now? sure, thats fine, whatever."

roberto adding to the inexplicable Perception, too, i see

i think it kinda sucks that tristamp kinda connects all the antagonists? EoM and Knives' gang. i think Livio and Chapel indirectly work for knives, but through Legato's commands, but they dont really have a shared goal? while in tristamp it feels direct... if that makes sense, idk

ww is still an asshole :(

vash's body looks weird. does meat look like that?? is that normal?? and wtf is the random lines and shit. i feel like im watching cyberpunk edgerunners

not to be one of those ppl who blame everything on the mcu, but why tf is this scene so dark. cant see shit

vash's scars revelation here is also just strange in general. in the manga it was a good early prompt into vash's issues, meryl & milly see and meryl insists he should retire from his life, and vash says he cant bc of his bro, but vash is also a pacifist so thats his price, this moves milly and meryl. while here its just... idk. feels random, and another excuse for tsundere ww to call out passive vash

conrad being fucking mad scientist AGAIN is so funny. he looks like he turned evil here. yesterday i had a post cooking up abt him and knives' relationship, but this just feels funny. how is knives allowing him to live here, even if its with the humans

cocoon knives back at the piano

tree. who knows if it means anything or if its like the previous imagery used so far

some cute elf bitches

expecting me to believe knives would willingly help him experiment on anything is just... knives i think is a hiuge hypocrite, judgemental, and reactive and those are flaws i like about his character, i dont think he'd allow this LMAO

are they gonna kill vash

is conrad transphobic here or is elendira's gender changed? and was she like. fake napping just to wake up to be like "um, who are you calling poor" and attack or fjsdhsjds

i dont even get what theyre pushing. tristamp LOVES having characters throw "monster" around, but then also elendira is attacking while saying they judge her. what theme is being pushed lol. and why is she even attacking

i forgot to say, but i hate what they did to elendira, btw.

ROBERTO IS NOW DYIGN FHSDJSKKJDS no one saw him injured... vash just waved their asses off fshdjsas???

i think her expressions are good there

i cannot say how much i disagree with wolfwood's initial ideals being overlayed with meryl's apparent newfound determination in response to her senior dying. ww's "you need to kill to survive" is his own lie to himself to cope with being a child soldier, called out by vash in the beginning of trimax and serves as character development he moves on from. having meryl take that as a lesson is incredibly strange. i strongly disagree with that take. her just going to a shooting range and maybe learning the basics would arguably be more significant for her lmao

tristamp just does not do a good job w vashwood's relationship. at all. if i just saw this i'd roll my eyes at shippers. theres nothing there

why did knives ask why he's there. isnt ww implied at least to have brought him there on orders from him

where are zazie and legato btw

did conrad just fucking leave to his office lmao. "oh no the people i was info dumping to are getting attacked by elendira! ...eh"

is that tesla??

whys his knife got an eyeball. whose is it

CONRAD IS BEGGING FOR FORGIVENESS AGAIN IN THIS SCENE. DOES KNIVES KNOW ABOUT TESLA?? HOW IS CONRAD STILL DOING THIS FJHSDJDS

tristamp loves just throwing around aspects of catholicism without actually... fitting it in. like they just use it when its convenient, eps having antagonists preach it

the piano activated floor trap is funny

idk what knives could be referring to, so we'll see i guess

#personal #trigun stampede spoilers

[lilyswritings]

late.

synopsis: your boyfriend’s superhero antics give you a fright, and it’s up to him to reassure you of his well-being when he returns home from the fight. 

author’s note: i’ll admit, this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time... likely since no way home came out! but i’ve been trying to get back into the swing of writing, and i figured it was a good idea to start with finishing up some works in progress before diving into anything new. so here’s some peter angst and fluff, just like the good ol’ days. enjoy!! 

wordcount: 1,613 

18. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 25. “What the hell were you thinking?!” 48. “Why are you crying?”

Peter Parker x Reader

      The window to the bedroom slides open, a figure in blue and red quietly stepping through the frame and carefully sliding the window shut behind him, all the while listening intently for any signs of life in the apartment beyond. Satisfied that he hasn’t woken his aunt, Peter turns around only to be startled by a figure sat in the darkness of the room, criss-cross on his bed. 

      “Shit.” He curses, huffing out a laugh when he realizes it’s only you. “It’s late,” Peter starts, tugging his mask off and tossing it onto his desk as he turns towards his closet to grab a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

      He doesn’t notice how silent you are until you don’t respond, when he turns around mid-unzipping his outfit to find you staring at him — like you’ve seen a ghost. Later, he’ll blame the shadows in the darkened room as why he didn’t immediately notice the shine of dried tears on your cheeks, or the way you’d bitten your nails down to the skin like you always did when you were panicking. 

      For now, though, he’s too focused on getting out of his suit and into comfortable clothes, the events of the evening still making his brain run haywire as he runs everything that he did that went wrong through his mind, planning for next time. 

      “Look, I’m sorry for returning so late,” He begins, tugging the suit off. “I lost track of time, I meant to text you but I think my phone got smashed in the fight and I’m probably going to have to at least replace the screen if not the whole thing.” He rambles, until finally, he’s changed entirely into casual clothes, and he lets out a sigh. When he turns around, finally, your expression has morphed from one of shock into anger, and he frowns at the sudden shift in emotion. 

      “What?” He asks, immediately wracking his brain for what he could have done to piss you off in the last few minutes. In response, you push yourself up and off the bed, coming to stand face-to-face with him as you take in his injuries, brow furrowed and arms crossed.

      “What was that?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to the window in reference to his escapades of the night.

      “Oh, it was just that Rhino guy again, turns out he escaped from prison and was trying the same ol’ shtick of—”

      “Rhino?” You cut him off, hands moving to your hips, and Peter winces, realizing his error. 

      “Yeah, uh, I know I said I wouldn’t take him on again by myself, but he was actively driving away with some radioactive materials and the police weren’t even close to him at that point so if I hadn’t stepped in chances are he would have gotten away and—”

      “So you went alone? What the hell were you thinking?” You demand, not letting him finish, watching his eyebrows tug together as he becomes defensive. 

      “Hey, come on, I can handle myself. I’m Spider-Man.” Peter retorts with a cocky smile, although still evidently confused, and you shove at his chest. “What the hell—” He begins to argue, smile dropping.

      “It’s not funny. You could have been killed!” You hiss, barely containing an angry shouting match as you try to keep your voice down to not wake Aunt May up. 

      “Are you— Why are you crying?” Peter asks, finally, and you freeze, only now noticing the feeling of tears running down your cheeks. He steps forwards delicately, hands up, and you step back, watching his expression morph into one of hurt.

      “What’s going on with you?” He asks, obviously confused, and you fling a hand out towards your open laptop as your other hand comes up to hastily scrub at your cheeks, as if to erase the tears altogether. 

     Peter, still looking at you with concern in his eyes, hesitantly sits down on the bed and turns the laptop on. The blue glow of the screen lights up his face as he reads the open article, mouth opening slightly as he pieces together your reaction. 

      The headline ‘Spider-Man: Gone For Good?’ stares back at him, along with an attached video of himself in his costume being smashed into the side of a building and remaining there, unmoving, until the video cuts out. ‘Spider-Man severely injured... Worried crowd of onlookers... Has the city’s hero been defeated?... No sign of hero since the incident...’ Peter’s eyes skim the article, before he turns to face you with a softened expression, noticing that you haven’t stopped crying, though you’re frustratedly scrubbing at your face in hopes of wiping away the evidence.

      He stands up from the bed and approaches you, and this time, you let him place his hands on your shoulders as you wipe at your face. “I’m so sorry,” He starts, voice quiet, moving to tilt your chin up with his hand. “That must have been really scary for you.”

      You swallow thickly, taking in a shaky breath as you lock eyes with him. “It said you were dead.” You whisper, voice breaking slightly on the last word. “The video—” You stop yourself, tears beginning to well up anew in your eyes, and Peter winces.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a news station, I was just— I needed to rest for a minute, that was it. I had no idea...” He curses himself internally — he should have been on the lookout for cameras, what if he’d taken his mask off? He never wanted you to see him in a fight, let alone see him get hurt that badly. 

      You nod, hand coming up to rest on his cheek, eyes skimming over the bruise on his cheekbone that seems to be disappearing with each passing second. Yay healing powers, you think sarcastically. “Okay. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” You take in another breath, this time less shaky. “I was just so scared.” You admit, and there you go again, fresh tears falling as you curse and look down at the floor.

      Peter takes that as his cue to envelop you in a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and tugging you closer, arms locked around you protectively. “I’m here. I’m okay.” He utters the affirmations into your neck, pressing a feather-light kiss there as if to prove it. 

      “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” He huffs into your hair. Though his words are obviously meant to lighten the mood, the cocky attitude reminds you one again of your initial frustration, and you impulsively pull away and launch your first forward to punch Peter in the shoulder. 

      Of course it only ends up startling him, and the impact feels like you just punched a wall — curse you, superhero muscles — and you pull your hand back with a muttered curse. His dark eyebrows tug together as he holds a hand over the spot you hit. 

      “What was that?” He asks, eyes darting from your fist to your face, tone concerned although you detect a hint of amusement in his soft brown eyes at the instant repercussions for your outburst. 

      “It’s not funny. You fucking scared me.” You grumble, cradling your now-throbbing fist against your chest, and he huffs out a short laugh. “Don’t laugh at me.” You scold, though your anger is dissolving by the second just due to his reassuring presence. 

     “I already said I’m sorry—” You frown at his casual attitude. “—don’t punch me again—” He interjects hurriedly. “—but I am sorry. Really sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

    “You’d better.” You frown, still trying to eradicate the image of his prone form lying among the rubble, no sign of movement or life. “Or at least fucking text me, or, or call me, or— send a Spider-signal or something! Next time your phone breaks, I want you to use a payphone.” You decide, nodding, and he laughs under his breath. 

      “Okay,” He concedes, stepping closer to you and kissing you on the forehead. “I’ll build a little pocket into the suit to hold some quarters.”

      You roll your eyes at the sass, but your smile betrays you as you lean into his touch, his arms coming up to encircle you. “Don’t be a smartass.” You mutter into his shoulder, and he laughs. 

      “Can we go to bed now?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you nod. “I’m wiped, and I think you might be too.” You nod again, sighing and going to pull away from him, but he holds you tighter and your brow furrows in confusion. 

       “I thought you wanted to go to bed—” Your words are cut off by a squeal of surprise and he holds you fast to his chest and shoots a web at the wall above his bed, tugging the both of you onto the bed in one swooping motion. 

      You land sideways, eyes wide, and erupt into a stifled laugh at his antics. “You’re insane, it would have taken us all of ten seconds to walk over and get in bed!” You scold, and he finally lets you go and shrugs, pulling the blanket up and over the both of you.

      “And this way, it took us one second.” He smirks, and you smack him on the chest. 

      “Okay, Spider-Man.” You retort, voice mocking, but he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you once more. The room goes quiet, your breaths slowing and deepening as you lie in Peter’s arms, and just as you are about to fall into a deep sleep, you smile as you hear him utter three lovely little words.

      “I love you.”

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spider man imagine #spider man x reader #mcu imagine #marvel imagine

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

“Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky’s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.

#my writing #tfatws #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Joaquin Torres #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

[gloriainalbis]

Strangers

Part 3 - Grand Illusion (S1E1+S1E2)

Nathan Young x Reader Words: 4k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex and nudity, drugs  Songs:  Too Much On My Mind - The Kinks I Won’t Hurt You - The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band

“Where are you going, I don't mind I've killed my world and I've killed my time”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Ao3

--

    You’re just about done changing, closing your locker and stepping away to zip up the front of your jumpsuit and fix your hair. It’s just you, Nathan, Curtis, and Simon remaining when Nathan whistles and motions for everyone to huddle up. “So…” he begins seriously, an emotion one does not typically expect from Nathan. “If anyone asks what happened yesterday, we say nothin’, right? It’s just a completely normal day.” You nod in agreement as he looks at each of you in turn.     Having left the locker room, you are now all standing together to await whatever new probation worker was sent to replace Tony after his mysterious disappearance. You try to look as normal as possible, leaning casually against a pillar and definitely not making any sideways glances at your fellow young offenders. It‘s hard to resist the urge.

    A woman walks up to stand before you all, she looks to be about in her early thirties and is dressed simply but well. Her hair is dark, long, and some of it is pulled away from her face. She’s pretty, but by all accounts, a remarkably normal person. You assume she’s the new probation worker, and you’re right. “Gary and my colleague Tony have both been reported missing. Their families are very worried about them. Have you seen anything unusual? Anything at all?” Nathan raises his eyebrows and holds up a finger to catch her attention. “You saw something?” she asks. You desperately want to stop this. Nathan has just told you, moments ago, that you should act like nothing happened yesterday, and yet here he is. He probably isn’t going to tell her the truth, you can’t imagine him ratting everyone out like that, but you can’t imagine him saying anything that would make the situation better, either. “A few days ago…” Kelly shakes her head slightly, trying to get him to stop, and you try to catch his eye to send him a harrowing gaze, but he just barrels on. “I go into the toilets, Tony and Gary were in there. They’re butt naked.” You breathe a sigh of relief that luckily sounded remarkably close to exasperation, which is probably because it was. “Tony has Gary by his hair, like this, an’ he’s just doin’ him, doggy style!” He starts to thrust and grunt, and you put a hand to your cheek, half over your mouth to suppress your involuntary grin. What he’s doing was disgusting, but oddly entertaining. It’s like watching a trainwreck. “And Tony is like ‘Aaagh! Who’s your daddy? I’m your daddy, I’m Big Daddy!’” It’s vulgar, honestly. Nathan gets really into it, making crude motions and grunts, chanting, “Oh yeah, oh yeah, ooooh yeah!” before calling out “I’m daddy cool!” Tony would have presumably finished then, because Nathan stops thrusting to put his hands on his hips and return to his normal posture. “So I’m guessing they’ve ran away to continue their illicit homosexual affair. And I ask you, in this world of intolerance and prejudice, who are we, who are we to condemn them?” He’s on point with the social justice, but now is decidedly not the right time, place, or circumstances. The probation worker says nothing and just walks away. You reach out and shove Nathan. “What the everloving fuck was that?” He gasps indignantly. “I was just trying to act normal!” “If that’s your idea of normal, then there’s somethin’ seriously wrong in your head,” Kelly scolds. “I thought we already knew that,” Curtis agrees, earning a giggle from Alisha.     You all congregate on the roof, standing together, overlooking the lake and office buildings on its far side. Ah, the charming sights of Wertham, an army of identical fifteen-story grey blocks. Nathan takes a drag from his cigarette before smiling, “Well, I think we got away from it.” “Do you actually believe that, or are you just really dumb?” Curtis asks sarcastically, and you snicker. “I actually believe that!” Nathan insists. You had just laughed at him, but there’s something in Nathan’s earnest voice that makes you want to believe it, too. “I mean I was there, right? I should have one of these bullshit powers.” “You can have mine,’ Kelly gripes. “You want to hear what people are thinkin’ about you?” “Not so much, no. I want something good, you know? Something from the A-list.” “Maybe you can fly,” Simon offers quietly. Nathan’s face lights up. “He’s not going to be able to fly,” Alisha reasons. “Yeah, there’s always someone who can fly, check it out!” His confidence in this proposition seems inordinately inflated. “We don’t need you trying to jump off buildings like superman to test it,” you add, knowing full well that Nathan could and would. “Ah, I won’t!” He walks over to a nearby chair, far away from the roof’s ledge, and climbs up. “This has no chance of working, right?” You lean in to whisper to Kelly. “None,” she agrees. Nathan leaps into the air, raising his arms up hopefully, but he just falls to the ground like a sack of bricks, except with the addition of a nasty smack. “Ow! No, that’s not it,” he groans, picking himself up with a childish expression of annoyance on his face. “So what happens now? Is this it?” Curtis asks, turning to look at everyone. “Are we gonna be like this forever?” “What if we’re meant to be, like, superheroes?” Now, you really do want to include Simon more, he seems like a genuinely nice, if chronically shy, person, but his suggestions today are horribly lacking. “You lot, superheroes?” Nathan asks, sounding more jealous than anything. Kelly looked worryingly contemplative, and you’re bothered by how well the story seems to fit. “No offense, but in what kind of fucked up world would that be allowed to happen?” “This world is pretty fucked up,” you point out. “I did not sign up for that,” Alisha exclaims. “Superheroes!” Nathan continues with the thinly-veiled jealousy. “I love this guy, you prick!” “What if there’s loads of people like us all over town?” Kelly askes, and she has a point. It had been a pretty large storm, you couldn’t be the only people who had seen or experienced it, right? Are there other people going about their normal, daily lives discovering their powers right now? “No,” Nathan scoffs, cigarette smoke billowing from his nose. “That kind of thing only happens in America. This will fade away. I’m telling you, by this time next week, it’ll be back to the same old boring shit.” Needless to say, this would not prove to be at all true.     Your task that day is picking up litter, each of you are given a large plastic bag and trash grabber before being set loose on the city, to collect trash with reckless abandon! In reality, you probably won’t even stray far from the community center. As you follow along the edge of the lake, Nathan continues to complain about his lack of a cool new superhero ability. “And what? Because you’re all special and I’m not? Yeah, well I doubt it. You can think what you like, but I have a ‘superpower’” he uses air quotes and says the word in a comically high-pitched valley-girl voice. “I just need to find out what it is.” “Maybe you’re just super retarded!” Alisha proclaims, and a cursory glance at the rest of the group would tell you she isn’t the only one growing annoyed at him. “Maybe I’ve got a whole Spiderman vibe going on, you know?” he continues unabashed. “Maybe I can climb stuff and do spider shit.” “Yeah, cuz that makes perfect sense,” Curtis cuts in. “Why would you be able to climb stuff?” “I don’t know!” Nathan calls back. “How is it that you can turn back time, apparently? And weird kid can turn invisible?” He pokes Simon in the back of the head with his grabber. “It’s not like this whole situation is backed up by a wank-load of logic.”     Later in the morning, you’ve moved all the way from right outside the community center to a tunnel under a nearby bridge. It’s a disturbingly gross place, but its inordinate abundance of trash has led you there, calling to be picked up and sent away to landfill. Curtis peers curiously at something he’s picked up with his grabbers, some sort of melted hunk of plastic. But as he peers, he notices something tucked into a corner not that far away. Something that looks fleshy and pink and remarkably human. “What is that?” he asks, voice dripping with disgust. You scrunch up your nose and move in to get a closer look. “Oh, god…” you groan. It’s a human man, completely naked, lying face down on the pavement. You are suitably disgusted. “Is he breathin’?” Kelly asks. Alisha strides forward without much hesitation and pokes his bare ass with her grabber. “Hey, nude guy!” she calls. “You’re naked!” Your eyes widen and everyone, yourself included lets out cries of protest as he rolls over to reveal himself, full-frontal. It’s not a pretty sight. Simon snapps a photo, you’re not exactly sure why, but documentation seems to be his response to everything so far. “Good lord!” Curtis protests, turning away. “Oh my god!” Alisha laughs, finding it funny more than anything else. Kelly actually turns around completely to avoid seeing any more of it. Nathan’s jaw, however, drops. Realization spreads over both of their faces and Nathan points an accusatory finger at the naked man before crying out, “You?!” The man stands up as fast as he can and bolts, but Nathan is outraged. “Hey!” He tries running after the man, but it’s too late. “Do you want to tell us who that was?” Curtis questions through a chorus of laughter. “He’s my mum’s– He lives with my mum.” He eyes everyone defensively. Alisha chuckles before proclaiming matter-of-factly, “Your stepdad has got a massive cock.” You snicker, even though you don’t want to have to think about it much. It was quite a disturbing image, even more so now that you know he’s close to Nathan’s mum. But… it was true. “Jesus!” Nathan cries in objection. “And he’s not my stepdad, alright?” You hold up your arms in mock surrender, “I assure you, I’m completely ready to forget about that picture, it should be purged from my mind.” Alisha leans closer to you and Kelly, guffawing. “Did you see that thing? That was like monster big!” She locks eyes with Nathan and hisses as if in pain, lowering her voice suggestively. “Your mum will hurt.” “La, la, la! Shut up!” He closes his eyes and literally sticks his fingers in his ears to block out her nasty comments. “Why’s he naked?” Kelly asks, turning to Nathan for the answers he doesn’t have. He gapes, trying to piece it all together, but Alisha speaks up before he can be given the chance. “Well he’s obviously some kind of pervert. Or he’s gay.” You wince at the presumptive, nay, offensive comment, not exactly fond of how it perpetuates harmful stereotypes. Curtis scoffs at her remark, “That follows.” “Well, he was cruising for rough trade!” she explains indignantly. “They love that shit!” “Oh, a little light homophobia? Go for it!” You have to agree with Curtis’ sarcastic reply here for a multitude of reasons, one of which being because you highly doubt Natha’s stepdad is secretly gay. “Or he could be a rapist,” Kelly muses with far too much nonchalance. “There’s loads of ‘em ‘round here.” “Maybe he’s a werewolf,” Simon posits seriously. Everyone sort of sneers at the idea and Nathan certainly isn’t pleased, exclaiming, “Twat!” “It’s what happens in films,” Simon tries to elaborate, growing visibly more nervous by the second. “You turn into a werewolf, you kill someone, an’ then you wake up somewhere naked… Like a zoo.” “He’s not a werewolf, alright?” Nathan protests hotly, defensiveness creeping into the edges of his voice. With the recent storm and all these odd powers, it’s all too likely that Simon’s right, or at the very least eerily close. “This guy is such a pussy, he needs my mum to open jars for him. I’m sure if he was a werewolf, he’d be able to open a jar of peanut butter for himself!” “What happens if the storm messed him up?” Kelly interjects. “Yeah,” you add, agreeing with her not only because it does make some sense, but also because you really want to bother Nathan, “he’s probably only been a werewolf for two days.” “What do you mean probably?” Nathan proclaims. His growing look of disbelief is incredibly amusing. “Well, Alisha had a point…” You look away and raise your eyebrows to insinuate what you mean. “Oh, fuckin’ hell, y/n! You, of all people?” he gapes, and you try not to laugh at his expression. This is far more fun for you than it should be. “Thank you!” Alisha cries, feeling vindicated by your agreement. It isn’t fun to say, but she wasn’t wrong. “That’s bollocks, the storm didn’t do nothin’ to him,” Nathan insists, but it’s starting to sound more like he’s trying to convince himself than you. “What are the chances?” The question hangs uncomfortably in the air. No one answers, and Nathan ends up just rolling his eyes and scoffing before stalking off and getting back to work, picking up trash.     You take a quick shower at the community center before heading home, feeling pretty grimy from searching for and collecting trash all day. Toweling off and gathering your things, you wonder if Nathan’s still around. He walked home with you the past few days and you really did enjoy his company. You decide to take a cursory look around, running into Sally in the process. “Oh, y/n, why’re you still here?” She’d looked to be pretty nice, so you’re surprised by the scrutinizing and cold tone you can hear creeping up behind her words. “I decided to shower before heading home,” you explain, trying to keep your voice as level as possible to allay suspicion. “Have you seen Nathan around?” “Yeah, he was by some vending machines a few minutes ago,” she tells you. “Okay, thanks! Have a good one.” You give her a small wave as you turn down a nearby hall, wondering why her smile doesn’t feel genuine. After about five minutes of searching, you enter a large common area with a raised loft in one corner. It’s there you find Nathan, sitting on the floor with arms resting on the railing and legs dangling over the edge. He’s surprised to see you, suddenly sitting up straighter and adopting the expression of someone caught in a nefarious act. “Oh, Nathan! There you are.” You approach him on the ground below, looking up with a smile. “Y/n!” He looks pleased, but notably apprehensive. “I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to walk home with me?” you ask, growing increasingly suspicious. “Uuuuh, well, I don’t know...” It’s then that you notice the duffel bag and mattress behind him. “Wait, why do you have a mattress? And a bag?” You start to piece together a few pieces of this puzzle. “I’ve only known you for three days, I don’t think we really need to know the intimate details of each other’s personal lives,” he stalls, leaning back to push the bag out of your view. But you aren’t about to give up that easy. “Screw that, what about being bonded by our shared traumatic experience?” You thought you were becoming friends with Nathan and don’t want to give that up so soon. And besides, you feel like you’ve known everyone in your service group for far longer than three days. It’s probably the superpowers and experience of burying your probation worker and fellow young offender together, but you want it to be more than that. Nathan gives in, “Alright, fine, come on up.” He patts the space beside him and you grin, turning to walk up the stairs and join him. Once up there, you have a better view of things. Not only is there a mattress, but also a pillow and blanket, and his half-unzipped bag, which appears to be full of clothes. You sit down next to him, dangling your legs over the edge beside his own. You don’t speak, allowing him to open up when he wants to. A few tense moments pass. “My mum kicked me out after our first day of community service,” he finally admits in a small, defeated voice. “I’m sorry, that sucks,” you murmur in response. While you’ve never actually been kicked out, you always felt that it was just about to happen, and you’ve used up all your chances with your dad and stepmum, once you move out, you know you’ll never be able to live with them again. He nods, “It does. I’ve been sleeping here.” “That’s why you were sneaking out of here yesterday morning,” you realize. “Yeah,” he chuckles, remembering how you caught him climbing out of a window. Then you recall what Nathan said when Tony was taking everyone’s phones. “Is that also why you were expecting a call from your mum?” He nods wordlessly. “Well, did she?” “No,” he shakes his head bitterly. “She’s cut me out.” “That’s bullshit,” you counter. Nathan turns to look at you, perplexed. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.” His face lights up in a worrying surge of confidence. “Yeah! I mean look at me,” he holds his arms up in a strongman pose and grunts while trying to flex. You cannot for the life of you tell if he’s being serious, but he looks absolutely ridiculous, so you burst out laughing. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” he continues, unphased. “It’s pathetic!” you wheeze between laughs. He almost snickers, half a chortle making it through his poker-faced veneer. “This’s one’s smasher,” he nods to his left bicep and you snort. “This one’s basher,” he nods to his right bicep. It’s redundant to say that you devolve into a fit of hysterical laughter. “And this one…” he points to his crotch and you shake your head, already wheezing, “is The Destroyer!” That absolutely does it in for you, and Nathan can’t hold it in any longer either, he breaks down laughing with you. After a while, the laughter dies down and you’re simply sitting beside one another in amiable silence. Nathan jumps to his feet and holds out a hand to help you up. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” “But what about…” you motion to all his stuff, but take his hand anyways and stand up. “I’ll walk back later. Now that you’ve become acquainted with where I live, I’d like to see your humble abode.” He grins and begins to walk down the stairs to the room’s main level. “Alright, but beware, my stepmum’s a bitch,” you warn, following after him. “Well, have you ever found her butt naked in a dark alleyway and come to the sudden and disturbing realization that she has gorgeous tits?” You cringe at the thought, “Can’t say that I have.” Nathan is curiously silent for a few moments. “Does she, though? I’m curious,” he muses with a cheeky grin. “Nathan!” you gasp, punching him in the shoulder. “Ow! Point taken! Why do you keep punching me?” he curses, glaring at you with playful indignance. You smile to yourself, pleased. “Because you deserve it and someone has to.”     Together you walk to your house, entirely unsure and uneasy about what will happen next. You grow increasingly anxious as you approach your house. There isn’t really a nice side of Wertham, but your stepmom likes to think you live there anyways. She is wrong, suburban Wertham is just as grungy and seamy as the city itself, it just looks marginally more pleasant. Once you’re at the front door, you stop and turn to Nathan. “Okay, here’s the plan. We go in, we try to get upstairs as quickly as possible. If we see my stepmum, we stay civil and try to get away without offending her. Sound good?” You exhale a deep breath, unsure of whether you should be amping up or calming down. “Yeah, but why do we need a plan?” Nathan asks innocently. “You’ll see,” you explain, opening the door. You aren’t really sure what to expect, to be perfectly honest. Your stepmum barely even wants you there, so you never really push it by bringing home anyone else. In secondary school, the only people you had over were friends you’d made before she married your dad, and thus people she had no real control over your relationship with. But once she was in the picture, you suddenly preferred going over to other people’s houses rather than having them come to yours. Hopefully, things would be different now, with you being an at least semi-autonomous adult. But probably not. You lead Nathan inside the front hall, so far so good, and turn to go up the stairs when things go south. “Ah, ah, ah! Who’s this, y/n?” your stepmum stops you, rushing out from wherever she’d been to literally stand between you and the stairs. “Hullo!” Nathan perks up, smiling broadly and sticking out a hand. “I’m Nathan.” Ah, so when you said ‘civil,’ he’d heard ‘unnervingly polite.’ “He’s from community service,” you explain. She glances down at his hand with mild disgust, and so he drops it. “Well, I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring those people to his home,” she sneers with a fake smile. “I’m those people,” you point out. Talking back hadn’t been in the plan, but the plan was never going to work anyways. She casts a derisive glance between you and Nathan, “Evidently.” Your dad walks in, then, from the kitchen, holding a casserole between oven-mitted hands. “Oh, y/n! Are you gonna have dinner with the family?” his tone is cheerful, but the insinuation behind his words stings you. “No, I’m clearly not a part of this family,” you murmur, hoping someone will contradict you, but your dad just squirms and looks sort of uncomfortable. No one says anything, even Nathan remains gloriously silent. “Wow! Okay, so we’re going. Bye.” You grab Nathan’s hand and he lets you drag him away. Once outside, though, you drop it and stalk down the street, just trying to get away from your house. Tears prick at your eyes as you allow yourself to break down. It hurts. It hurts to not be included, even if you expected it. That woman had taken so much from you, had pushed you to become what you were and live the life you’d lived just because she expected it. There are people around you, of course, saying that you’re more than that, but when she looks at you like you’re nothing, you feel like nothing. Nathan follows after you, “Hey, y/n, where are we goin’?” “Away!” You call after him. He catches up to you soon after that, when you’re about a block away from your house, grabbing your arm to get you to stop. Neither of you say anything, but he sits down on the curb and motions for you to join him. You do. He puts his arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. He smells like cigarettes, bandaids, and sharpies, and you wonder why, but it distracts you, and so you revel in it. This is the closest you’ve ever been, and even though you’ve only known each other for three days now, you seem to fit perfectly there. Nathan leans his head in closer to you, “You know, if it makes you feel any better, she had really wack tits.” You laugh despite yourself, “It does, actually.” You smile and close your eyes, allowing yourself to become lost in the feeling of his arm around you and the smell of his clothes, which remind you of the community center and of him. You sit there for a few moments, in comfortable silence. “What’re you gonna do now?” he asks. “I’ll just sneak in through my window, the lock’s broken,” you murmur in a quiet voice. He nods but doesn’t move. Eventually, you say your goodbyes and sneak back into your respective living spaces, but for now, you remain in his arms. For now, you’re together.

#misfits #misfits tv #nathan #nathan misfits #nathan young #nathan young misfits #nathan young x reader #nathan young imagine

[babybottlepop96]

Jorogumo

Summary: You and the Attack on Titan gang go on adventures to visit murder sites, but on one trip, nothing is as it seems

A/N: This will be multi chapter, and probably the first of a series I’ll do involving mythical creatures and beast. Please let me know what you think of it!

Jorogumo: A mythical creature from Japan, described as  spider woman. It takes the apperance of  a beautiful woman to lure in unexpecting men.

(picture drawn by me, don't judge lol)

Chapter One

Ten Years Earlier

Emilee stuck her hand out the window of the beat up, old, green pick up truck, letting her hand fly through the air. Her boyfriend, Jason, in the driver’s seat, window down singing to some song she didn’t know the name of. The two were on a road trip, camping here and there in the back of the truck. Their destination unknown, for the two had taken the essentials and whatever money they saved up and left. No notes, no goodbyes, just left the world they knew to start a new life together. Stopping for some gas, Emilee runs into the small run down shop to get some snacks. “Will that be all?” The woman behind the counter asked as she rang the items up and placed them into a bag. 

“Could I also get a pack of Newport Menthol one-hundreds?” She asked as she handed the woman her I.D., looking out at the darkening sky. The woman took a look and grabbed the cigarettes.

“That’ll be thirty-two dollars and forty-six cents.” She tossed the smokes in the bag with the rest of the things. Putting the money in the register, she handed Emilee her bag. “Your man’s a looker, better keep him close unless you want to lose him.” She spoke seriously. 

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Emilee asked defensively, she knows Jason is downright one of the most handsome men out there, but obviously this man knows he is taken, so why would she come out and such a thing?

“There’s something that lurks out in these parts at night. Something evil, people say it likes to take handsome men. Just be careful.” The woman spoke again, her voice was serious, lacking any other emotion. 

“You have got to be shitting me, you're a crazy bitch.” Emilee grabbed her bag and left, lighting a cigarette as she walked towards the truck, Jason patiently waiting for her in the cab.

“You okay, babe?” He asked with an eyebrow raised, his hand out asking to bum a smoke from her.

“Yeah,” She handed him a cigarette. “But the bitch behind the register tried saying some shit about keeping you close because something evil lurks in this area and takes handsome men.” She took a drag and slowly blew the smoke out. “I’m pretty sure she was just interested in getting into your pants.” Jason laughed, leaning over to kiss his girlfriend on the cheek.

“No crazy bitch will be getting into my pants anytime soon. Except for you of course.” Emilee gasped, smiling and playfully slapping her boyfriend on the chest.

“You asshole, just drive. I want to get the back set up before it gets too terribly dark.” Emilee stomped out her cigarette and got into the truck.

“Anything you want, babe.” Jason smiled and started up the truck. They drove for another thirty minutes before finding a spot just inside a wooden area. The roads were deserted, but in case any car decided to pass, it would be more comfortable if they were somewhat hidden. Laying in the bed of the truck, air mattress blown, pillows lining the bed walls and blankets haphazardly thrown on top of the couple. Legs and arms tangled with one another, Emilee laid her head on Jason’s chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Fuck, I gotta take a piss.” She sighed, gently pushing herself up and making her way towards the back of the truck. 

“Don’t get lost babe!” She heard Jason call.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily!” She continued for a moment before she felt safe enough to drop her pants and squat. As she held the roll of toilet paper in her hand, she heard a rustle in the bushes not far off to her left. “Jason?” She asked, but received no reply. “Jason, if that’s you, this isn't funny!” She wiped herself briefly before pulling up her sleep shorts. The bushes rustled once again. “Jason?” She asked once more, making her way to the rustling branches of the berry bush. Suddenly, a squirrel ran out from underneath causing Emilee to let out a small squeak and then chuckle to herself. “Fucking woods. I feel like I’m in some cliche, shitty horror movie” She turned and stared into the eyes of the woman from the gas station. 

“Told you to keep a close eye on your man.” 

After a few minutes, Jason sat up from his comfortable position, looking towards the area Emilee had walked towards. “Em?! Baby?! You okay?!” He called, eyes looking around the surrounding area. 

“I’m okay, babe. Just… Ran into an old friend.” Emilee suddenly appeared next to him. 

“Jesus fucking christ!” Jason rested a hand over his chest.

“No. Not quite.”

~~~~

“The police never found Jason’s body. It’s like he just… vanished. Emilee’s body was drained of her blood, not even a trace of it on the ground where she died. Only thing they found was some puncture wounds on her arm, but other than that… nothing.” Jean spoke to the group of his friends while they sat in a rounded booth at the local diner.

“Come on, Jean. You're telling me that a girl was bitten by a vampire and her boyfriend just vanished? I bet it was the boyfriend. Kill the girl and just leave.” Connie spoke as he took a bite from his burger, his girlfriend, Sasha stealing some of his fries.

“See, I thought about that too. But that wouldn’t explain how she was bled dry with no traces of it anywhere, nor does it explain the puncture wounds on her arm.” This was a normal thing for the group, it started after they graduated, traveling around to visit certain murder areas. They been to Lizzie Bourden’s house, the Amityville Horror house, they even been to the sight of the Murder Hotel H.H. Holmes created. Mazes and trap doors, dead ends and torture rooms where countless victims had suffered. But this one was knew, this was a murder that happen only ten years earlier, but what was strange was the fact that there was multiple similar cases scattered across the united states over the last couple hundred years, all unsolved.

“Jean makes a good point, even if I hate to admit it.” Eren spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you, Eren! Finally agreeing to something my brother said without calling him ‘Horseface’!” You exclaimed while clapping your hands. The rest laughed while Eren grumbled.

“Come on, Brats. It’s getting dark and I want to get to the motel early enough to clean it and get enough sleep.” The group's driver, Levi, spoke as he came from the restroom. Levi was older than the rest of the group by a couple of years, but he was the only one with a R.V. that could transport the entire group around. He was also there as a “chaperone” due to the fact that Eren, Jean, Connie and Armin somehow always got themselves into trouble. 

With Levi in the driver’s seat, his best friend and forensic major, Hanje in the passenger seat, the rest of you in the back, you headed off You had your legs across Eren’s as he, Jean and Connie played among us and your head rested in Armin’s lap as you two talked about conspiracy theories.

Sahsha was raiding the mini fridge, Marco fiddling with his camera, Ymir and Krista doing something in the back room, no one cared to figure out what, and Mikasa sat reading a book. How she never got motion sickness you would never know.

“Okay, brats. I gotta get gas. Someone go inside and pay and grab some more snacks. I think Sasha ate them all.” Levi grumbled as he pulled into a shitty little gas station.  Connie and Sasha quickly ran in and got snacks and paid for the gas. 

“Will that be everything?” The woman behind the counter asked, a smile quickly replacing her scowl upon noticing the boy with the buzzcut. 

“And these snacks please!” Sasha yelled as she threw the chips, nuts and can of soda and energy drinks onto the counter. 

“Can I also get a pack of smokes? Whatever the cheapest is, menthol.” The woman nodded kindly, grabbing the pack he got for Levi, knowing that may be the only way to keep his rage under control. “You better be careful out there. Wouldn’t want a handsome man like yourself to get lost.” She winked at him. Connie gave her a weird look before looking at Sasha, “Imma head back.” He nodded towards the RV and Sasha nodded quickly.

“I’ll be right there, I’m debating if I want to get these weird looking candies.” He shook his and gave a smile. 

“Don’t be too long! Levi won’t hesitate to leave you behind!” Sasha waved him off, too busy with the treats. Sasha decided she was going to buy ten bags, even if she didn’t like them. Who the hell is she kidding, Sasha liked everything she ate. She went to the counter and put the candies down, pulling her wallet out and putting thirty bucks on the counter.

The woman bagged the snacks and put the cash into the register. Handing Sasha back the change, she spoke. “Better keep an eye on your man. He is cute and I’d hate for anything bad to happen to him. 

“Fuck off, freak.” She grabbed her shit and made to leave. The cashier grabbed her arm with a wicked smile taking over her face.

“Where the fuck is Sasha?” Eren grumbled.

“I told you, she was eyeing the candy. You know how she is with food.” Connie defended though it wasn’t to any one’s surprise. Everyone knew Connie had a thing for her.

“Hey! I’m back! Sorry, the cashier was being fucking weird.” Sasha said as she scrambled back into the RV snack bag in hand. 

“About fucking time. Lets go brats! The motel is just up ahead.” Levi said as he started up the engine, driving ten minutes to the motel. 

Once in the rooms, everyone got who they were rooming with and what room. Armin and Eren, Connie and Jean, Ymir and Krista, Mikasa and you, Sasha and Hanje, and then Levi and poor poor Marco in another. Everyone settled down and began to discuss what they hoped to find. Not like they would be able to find much after ten years, but the thought was still thrilling. 

As Hanje was falling asleep she swore she heard giggling from Sasha, not bothering to even spare a glance, figuring it was just her texting Connie. Sasha looked at the ceiling, her smile forming. “So…. hungry.”

Ten Years Earlier

Emilee stuck her hand out the window of the beat up, old, green pick up truck, letting her hand fly through the air. Her boyfriend, Jason, in the driver’s seat, window down singing to some song she didn’t know the name of. The two were on a road trip, camping here and there in the back of the truck. Their destination unknown, for the two had taken the essentials and whatever money they saved up and left. No notes, no goodbyes, just left the world they knew to start a new life together. Stopping for some gas, Emilee runs into the small run down shop to get some snacks. “Will that be all?” The woman behind the counter asked as she rang the items up and placed them into a bag. 

“Could I also get a pack of Newport Menthol one-hundreds?” She asked as she handed the woman her I.D., looking out at the darkening sky. The woman took a look and grabbed the cigarettes.

“That’ll be thirty-two dollars and forty-six cents.” She tossed the smokes in the bag with the rest of the things. Putting the money in the register, she handed Emilee her bag. “Your man’s a looker, better keep him close unless you want to lose him.” She spoke seriously. 

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Emilee asked defensively, she knows Jason is downright one of the most handsome men out there, but obviously this man knows he is taken, so why would she come out and such a thing?

“There’s something that lurks out in these parts at night. Something evil, people say it likes to take handsome men. Just be careful.” The woman spoke again, her voice was serious, lacking any other emotion. 

“You have got to be shitting me, you're a crazy bitch.” Emilee grabbed her bag and left, lighting a cigarette as she walked towards the truck, Jason patiently waiting for her in the cab.

“You okay, babe?” He asked with an eyebrow raised, his hand out asking to bum a smoke from her.

“Yeah,” She handed him a cigarette. “But the bitch behind the register tried saying some shit about keeping you close because something evil lurks in this area and takes handsome men.” She took a drag and slowly blew the smoke out. “I’m pretty sure she was just interested in getting into your pants.” Jason laughed, leaning over to kiss his girlfriend on the cheek.

“No crazy bitch will be getting into my pants anytime soon. Except for you of course.” Emilee gasped, smiling and playfully slapping her boyfriend on the chest.

“You asshole, just drive. I want to get the back set up before it gets too terribly dark.” Emilee stomped out her cigarette and got into the truck.

“Anything you want, babe.” Jason smiled and started up the truck. They drove for another thirty minutes before finding a spot just inside a wooden area. The roads were deserted, but in case any car decided to pass, it would be more comfortable if they were somewhat hidden. Laying in the bed of the truck, air mattress blown, pillows lining the bed walls and blankets haphazardly thrown on top of the couple. Legs and arms tangled with one another, Emilee laid her head on Jason’s chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Fuck, I gotta take a piss.” She sighed, gently pushing herself up and making her way towards the back of the truck. 

“Don’t get lost babe!” She heard Jason call.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily!” She continued for a moment before she felt safe enough to drop her pants and squat. As she held the roll of toilet paper in her hand, she heard a rustle in the bushes not far off to her left. “Jason?” She asked, but received no reply. “Jason, if that’s you, this isn't funny!” She wiped herself briefly before pulling up her sleep shorts. The bushes rustled once again. “Jason?” She asked once more, making her way to the rustling branches of the berry bush. Suddenly, a squirrel ran out from underneath causing Emilee to let out a small squeak and then chuckle to herself. “Fucking woods. I feel like I’m in some cliche, shitty horror movie” She turned and stared into the eyes of the woman from the gas station. 

“Told you to keep a close eye on your man.” 

After a few minutes, Jason sat up from his comfortable position, looking towards the area Emilee had walked towards. “Em?! Baby?! You okay?!” He called, eyes looking around the surrounding area. 

“I’m okay, babe. Just… Ran into an old friend.” Emilee suddenly appeared next to him. 

“Jesus fucking christ!” Jason rested a hand over his chest.

“No. Not quite.”

~~~~

“The police never found Jason’s body. It’s like he just… vanished. Emilee’s body was drained of her blood, not even a trace of it on the ground where she died. Only thing they found was some puncture wounds on her arm, but other than that… nothing.” Jean spoke to the group of his friends while they sat in a rounded booth at the local diner.

“Come on, Jean. You're telling me that a girl was bitten by a vampire and her boyfriend just vanished? I bet it was the boyfriend. Kill the girl and just leave.” Connie spoke as he took a bite from his burger, his girlfriend, Sasha stealing some of his fries.

“See, I thought about that too. But that wouldn’t explain how she was bled dry with no traces of it anywhere, nor does it explain the puncture wounds on her arm.” This was a normal thing for the group, it started after they graduated, traveling around to visit certain murder areas. They been to Lizzie Bourden’s house, the Amityville Horror house, they even been to the sight of the Murder Hotel H.H. Holmes created. Mazes and trap doors, dead ends and torture rooms where countless victims had suffered. But this one was knew, this was a murder that happen only ten years earlier, but what was strange was the fact that there was multiple similar cases scattered across the united states over the last couple hundred years, all unsolved.

“Jean makes a good point, even if I hate to admit it.” Eren spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you, Eren! Finally agreeing to something my brother said without calling him ‘Horseface’!” You exclaimed while clapping your hands. The rest laughed while Eren grumbled.

“Come on, Brats. It’s getting dark and I want to get to the motel early enough to clean it and get enough sleep.” The group's driver, Levi, spoke as he came from the restroom. Levi was older than the rest of the group by a couple of years, but he was the only one with a R.V. that could transport the entire group around. He was also there as a “chaperone” due to the fact that Eren, Jean, Connie and Armin somehow always got themselves into trouble. 

With Levi in the driver’s seat, his best friend and forensic major, Hanje in the passenger seat, the rest of you in the back, you headed off You had your legs across Eren’s as he, Jean and Connie played among us and your head rested in Armin’s lap as you two talked about conspiracy theories.

Sahsha was raiding the mini fridge, Marco fiddling with his camera, Ymir and Krista doing something in the back room, no one cared to figure out what, and Mikasa sat reading a book. How she never got motion sickness you would never know.

“Okay, brats. I gotta get gas. Someone go inside and pay and grab some more snacks. I think Sasha ate them all.” Levi grumbled as he pulled into a shitty little gas station.  Connie and Sasha quickly ran in and got snacks and paid for the gas. 

“Will that be everything?” The woman behind the counter asked, a smile quickly replacing her scowl upon noticing the boy with the buzzcut. 

“And these snacks please!” Sasha yelled as she threw the chips, nuts and can of soda and energy drinks onto the counter. 

“Can I also get a pack of smokes? Whatever the cheapest is, menthol.” The woman nodded kindly, grabbing the pack he got for Levi, knowing that may be the only way to keep his rage under control. “You better be careful out there. Wouldn’t want a handsome man like yourself to get lost.” She winked at him. Connie gave her a weird look before looking at Sasha, “Imma head back.” He nodded towards the RV and Sasha nodded quickly.

“I’ll be right there, I’m debating if I want to get these weird looking candies.” He shook his and gave a smile. 

“Don’t be too long! Levi won’t hesitate to leave you behind!” Sasha waved him off, too busy with the treats. Sasha decided she was going to buy ten bags, even if she didn’t like them. Who the hell is she kidding, Sasha liked everything she ate. She went to the counter and put the candies down, pulling her wallet out and putting thirty bucks on the counter.

The woman bagged the snacks and put the cash into the register. Handing Sasha back the change, she spoke. “Better keep an eye on your man. He is cute and I’d hate for anything bad to happen to him. 

“Fuck off, freak.” She grabbed her shit and made to leave. The cashier grabbed her arm with a wicked smile taking over her face.

“Where the fuck is Sasha?” Eren grumbled.

“I told you, she was eyeing the candy. You know how she is with food.” Connie defended though it wasn’t to any one’s surprise. Everyone knew Connie had a thing for her.

“Hey! I’m back! Sorry, the cashier was being fucking weird.” Sasha said as she scrambled back into the RV snack bag in hand. 

“About fucking time. Lets go brats! The motel is just up ahead.” Levi said as he started up the engine, driving ten minutes to the motel. 

Once in the rooms, everyone got who they were rooming with and what room. Armin and Eren, Connie and Jean, Ymir and Krista, Mikasa and you, Sasha and Hanje, and then Levi and poor poor Marco in another. Everyone settled down and began to discuss what they hoped to find. Not like they would be able to find much after ten years, but the thought was still thrilling. 

As Hanje was falling asleep she swore she heard giggling from Sasha, not bothering to even spare a glance, figuring it was just her texting Connie. Sasha looked at the ceiling, her smile forming. “So…. hungry.”

#attack on titan #reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan eren #armin #jean aot #marco #mikasa aot #hange #ymir #krista #connie #sasha aot #mythical #creatures #death #horror #suspence

[l0uk45]

If students from class 1A and 1B were part of the Riordanverse:

Yuga Aoyama: Son of Aphrodite. Not even a good one, unless you need someone blinded by his glitter-gun. Oh yeah, he has a glitter gun with lasers for maximum flare. Is he completely over-the-top? Absolutely. But is he good in a fight? Surprisingly, yes.

Mina Ashido: Daughter of Hermes and legacy of Hecate, capable of inhuman movements and can produce a slime that magically dissolves anything. She also tattooed her eyes black and yellow for some weird masochistic reason.

Tsuyu Asui: She’s a frog-turned-human by Ochako. She still has her tongue, leaps, hops, camouflage, a reversible stomach and poison that can kill a group of whales. And he can still inflate her throat like a balloon, which makes for good scares.Very good scares…

Tenya Iida: Son of Mercury, he never skips leg day. Never. Seriously, have you seen those legs? He could crush a car with those puppies! Or crush monster heads! Which he does do quite often! He doesn’t skimp out on upper body exercises either, but LOOK AT THOSE LEGS OF THUNDER!

Ochako Uraraka: Daughter of Hecate, she specializes in a set of spells that manipulate an individual object’s or being’s gravitational pull. It’s gotten to the point where she makes anything she touches with five fingers on one hand, it will float, no matter what, which is why she wears gloves all the time.

Mashirao Ojiro: Son of Mars, he’s an expert martial artist and very, very good at multiple of them. He’s lost multiple sparring partners because of his profinity with a number of weapons, and his lethality without any weapons.

Denki Kaminari: Legacy of Zeus and Apollo, each by about 50 generations. About as bright as his godly ancestors (not very), but he still makes one Hel of a lightning bolt, and he’s also pretty good with a guitar and lyre. 

Eijiro Kirishima: Son of Vulcan, his blood and skin are pure liquid gold, bronze and diamond he can infinitely harden for a period of time. It also obtains unnaturally sharp edges, and given his tendency to go hard when excited, he has made his friends frequent the infirmary for cuts and broken ribs.

Koji Koda: Son of Actaedon, he can talk with wildlife. He’s also a Legacy of Heracles, hence his size. His hugs are nice, war and gentle.

Rikido Sato: Son of Mars, this guy has a serious sweet tooth. He’s also surprisingly gentle for a guy that can decimate an opponent with a single hit.

Mezo Shoji: Son of Ares, he’s surprisingly level-headed. And malicious. Seriously, this guy always has at least ten different weapons on him, on top of him knowing a variety of potentially lethal moves. His arms are known as the Anacondas for a reason.

Kyoka Jiro: Daughter of Apollo, she’s a top-tier musician, singer and is moderate with a bow and arrow. She can whistle in the ultrasonic range, clap like thunder, sing and play like either a sweet little bird or a whole-ass heavy metal choir without ruining her vocal cords, and she gives the opposite amount of fucks that Zeus does (ie. zero).

Hanta Sero: Son of Hermes, he inherited a pair of magical tape dispensers that can dispense any tape in any amount of any properties he chooses. He uses them to swing around like Spider-Man, which made him a regular visitor of the infirmary until Momo made him a special harness to keep his joints from dislocating. 

Fumikage Tokoyami: Son of Erebos, he suffers from split-personality disorder, but it’s fixed nicely by his inner demon incarnate made of pure darkness he calls Dark Shadow. They have a strangely healthy relationship for a boy and his literal inner demon.

Shoto Todoroki: A Legacy, descendant of Hel and Surtr, capable of making ice that freezes fire, and fire that burns ice. He gives so little shit he’s actually oblivious to social cues, which makes for more than a few funny moments on quests with him.

Toru Hagakure: Legacy of Iris, she can manipulate light around her to turn invisible or project bright flashes

Katsuki Bakugou: Son of Ares, with rage and instincts of war so strong and powerful he can convert his sheer rage into explosions in the palms of his hands. He generated more than one explosion with the explosive yield of a nuclear weapon in his life. How he hasn’t gone deaf yet is beyond most people, though he does still know a variety of sign languages.

Izuku Midoriya: A mortal, capable of seeing through the mist, was gifted the Spartan Spirit, a spirit formed by Kratos, Nike, Bia and Zelus, to protect humanity in its greatest times of need. He ends up breaking his bones an absolute shitton, and is a regular at the infirmary.

Minoru Mineta: Died on a quest. His quest-mates say ‘by accident’. Everyone knows it was very deliberate, but then again, everyone hated him and is fine with him dead. Some people wanted to be the ones to kill him though.

Momo Yaoyorozu: A Legacy, granddaughter of Hephaestus and Athena, capable of making virtually any machine. She’s also very fidgety, and once made an entire army of fully autonomous grass soldiers that went on to terrorize the other campers for a bit. In thirty minutes.

Class 1B:

Yosetsu Awase: Son of Hephaestus, he also likes to make stuff. Though mostly he combines already existing tools, gadgets and machines, and makes weird amalgamations. He once fused an automaton bull, an automaton dragon and a school bus, and it actually works.

Sen Kaibara: Son of Ares, he’s pretty chill compared to his kin (especially Katsuki and Setsuna), mainly due to him bottling up his anger. Which he can unleash as tornadoes around his limbs, which he can use to drill through walls. Thank gods he doesn’t lose it too often.

Togaru Kamakiri: Son of Ceres, he likes farming tools. Especially ones with blades. That’s lead to him using all kinds of sickles, scythes (both farming tools and war scythes) and even a few lawn mowers, shovels, axes...

Shihai Kuroiro: Son of Nyx, him and Tokoyami get along exceptionally well. Given his ability to shadow-travel and use shadows and darkness as materials to make some pretty nifty weapons only he can use.

Itsuka Kendo: Daughter of Athena, she excels in critical thinking and a variety of martial arts. And knocking out her piers with precise attacks when they start to get exceptionally annoying.

Yui Kodai: Daughter of Trivia. She excels in potions and spells that manipulate the size of objects, so much so that she has to resort to gloves because she now naturally makes things smaller with her left hand, or bigger with her right hand. She’s the calm one.

Kinoko Komori: Daughter of Demeter, she has a soft spot for fungi and mushrooms. Which she can make grow rapidly. Very rapidly. She’s fun at parties.

Ibara Shiozaki: Daughter of Demeter, she dyes her hair green with actual chlorophyll for some reason (“To feel one with the beautiful plants,” she says), but she can also grow and manipulate vines and other vine-like plants, along with trees, quite effectively, and she has some rose and poison oak (she’s immune to it) seeds in her hair. Don’t ask, her answers are just as ridiculous as the chlorophyll-dyed hair.

Jurota Shishida: Son of Mars, he’s been cursed by most likely Hera to be a humanoid boar/dog thing. He’s especially good at wrestling, and is very diplomatic in his approach. Until he gets pissed, then he charges like a boar and yes, he keeps those tusks of his sharp on a regular basis.

Niregeki Shoda: Legacy of Hermes, son of Hephaestus, he likes to make explosives and plant them everywhere. More than a few campers were scared. Except Katsuki, who tried to outdo the ground (Niregeki’s mine) in explosive yield and put skylight access in the roof of Bunker 9. Niregeki had to repair it.

Pony Tsunotori: Legacy of Poseidon, she can shapeshift. She likes to shapeshift into horses, bulls, deer and goats (including mooses and buffalo), and she has a nifty gadget from the Hephaestus and Vulcan campers in the shape of horns that transform with her, giving her detachable remote-control horns. 

Kosei Tsuburaba: Legacy of Jupiter, son of Ares, he’s competitive and can make walls and blades out of air. Especially annoying for monsters because they can’t get to him, period, and every time they try, they don’t get past his walls of air for a whole minute before someone either cuts/hacks/slices them to bits, freezes/burns them alive, blows them up with their fists/explosives/expanding stones they previously ingested or some other way of disposing a monster.

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu: Son of Vulcan, capable of turning to pure steel over his entire body, also increasing his strength. Because of this, and his tendency to go hard whenever he’s excited, he’s made his friends frequent the infirmary for bruises and broken ribs.

Setsuna Tokage: Daughter of Ares, she’s actually been hurt pretty badly in one of her fights (she went on a Quest with Katsuki, and no, it wasn’t him who hurt her) and had to have automaton grafts to replace her limbs, a part of her lower jaw, her eyes and the muscles around her spine, along with parts of the vertebrae. Which she asked to be detachable and splittable in as many pieces as possible, which she can control telepathically and uses to troll other campers. A lot. Especially two certain sons of Vulcan.

Manga Fukidashi: No one knows what he is, they just know his head is a speech bubble and he can make anything he writes real.

Juzo Honenuki: Legacy of Gaia, he can virtually liquify the ground (does not work on metal or wooden floors). He trolls a lot with this ability. And I do mean a lot.

Kojiro Bondo: A golem? A person? His head makes it hard to tell whether he’s a demigod or a monster to be honest. And his glue-like spit doesn’t help much either.

Neito Monoma: Legacy of, you guessed it, Zeus! He has a superiority complex because of this, and he frequents the infirmary on the basis of Itsuka or whoever he was annoying KOing him constantly. All that brain damage probably isn’t helping his mental issues...

Reiko Yanagi: Daughter of Hecate she can make things she touches float and fly around using some sort of incantation. The biggest she can do is double her own body weight, but that doesn’t stop her from delivering high-speed flying punches and scaring other campers.

Hiryu Rin: Son of Mars and Legacy of Poseidon, he can shapeshift into various animals. Most notably a mix of human, hedgehog and a lizard. Sharp, painful and deadly precise. And also meditating. And a lot of it.

#my hero memes #my hero academia #riordan universe #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #magnus chase #the kane chronicles

[babbushka]

Silver Bells

Pale (Burn This x Reader) ; 2k

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style

In the air there's a feeling of Christmas

Children laughing, people passing, meeting smile after smile

And on every street corner you hear…

 He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doin’, out in the city with you like this. Doesn’t know one fuckin’ bit. It’s dark and cold and snowing and he wants nothing more than to just bring you home and make you cry on his cock, but instead you’re walkin’ around with him, hand in hand, arm in arm, whatever. He doesn’t know why you wanna hold onto him like some fuckin’ spider-monkey or something, but. You are.

You are and he doesn’t dare let you go.

You wanted to go into the city. Wanted to go into Manhattan and look at the tree in the plaza, maybe go ice skatin’. There was no fuckin’ way he was going to get on two thin blades and try to balance on a sheet of frozen fuckin’ water, no way. But he’d watch you, if you wanted. He’d do anything you wanted.

The little man on the street-light turns green, and you’re already walking ahead of him, tugging him behind you as he sucks down his cigarette, your hand squeezing his excitedly as you cross the street.

“Is this it?” You ask with eyes wide at the huge display of lights that absolutely covered every available square inch of the buildings that lined each side of the street.

“What, 5th Ave? Yeah, this is it.” He asks, flicks the ash off his cigarette and gives a nasty glare to some schmuck who has the audacity to look at you for too long.

You look good, real good, in your shiny red trench coat that you won’t let him replace, bundled up in a scarf and ear-muffs so you don’t fuckin’ freeze your face off. You turn to glance at him over your shoulder, give him one of those too-warm smiles that makes him sweaty, and he swoops down to plant a kiss to your cheek as the two of you evade getting run down by tourists.

“There’s a lot of people here huh?” You laugh as Pale steers you off to the sidewalk, crowds you up against a light-pole and kisses you nice and proper.

You smile against his lips, still not letting go of his hand, holding his cigarette in the other before flicking the ash and giving it back to him when his tongue starts to get a little too insistent.

“Yeah welcome to Manhattan.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh with a teasing shake of your head, pulling him along the sidewalk.

“Don’t be mean.” You tell him playfully.

“Me?” He asks with mock-surprise, pointing to himself.

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes and Pale feels his whole fuckin’ chest go warm and fuzzy. Always something about you that seems to heat him up inside in more ways than one.

“Can we go look in the windows?” You ask, already trying to look over the heads of the tourists, trying to see the lights and decorations.  

“No.” He says, and you laugh, and pull him along anyway.

 Silver bells, silver bells

It's Christmastime in the city

Ring-a-ling, hear them ring

Soon it'll be Christmas Day

 Pale walks with you hand in hand up and down the street, lookin’ at all the stores.

There’s mechanical santas and reindeer, moving angels and blinking flashing lights. There’s metal snowflakes that glitter and gleam, snowmen that wave and doves that flap their wings. There’s small figurines and nutcrackers and sugar plum fairies and you’ve got your eyes glued to all of it, like you ain’t never seen any of it before.

He thinks maybe you haven’t, wonders why you’re suddenly so interested in it now.

“Hey you know I was reading this thing in the fuckin’ paper at work that it’s the one-hundredth year they’ve been doin’ this shit? Can you believe that? One hundred years of putting up lights in windows on 5th. Macy’s started it way back in ’84, and it’s ’84 again. I wonder if they ever figured they’d be doin’ it for this long. You know, I don’t get why the fuck we had to come all the way out here anyway, aren’t you Jewish?” He asks randomly.

You pause for a moment, squint your eyes to try and see better, before smiling triumphantly and pointing across the street.  

“Look.” You say smugly, a single solitary window decked out in Hanukkah colors and ornaments, an electric menorah with fake flickering flames proudly on display.

“You planted that.” Pale grumbles, smokes his cigarette.

“Mhm, sure.” You tease, but you are only half-listening, having stopped in front of Tiffany’s of all places.  “Oh, wow.”

You stop in your tracks once again, something catching your eye.

“What?” Pale asks, immediately interested.

He always has such a hard fuckin’ time getting you to want things, nice things, expensive things. You always tell him no, you don’t need it. No, there’s no point to it. No, you’ve got him, and that’s enough. But he wants you to have expensive pointless needless things because he’s got all this money and no one to spend it on and he wants to spend it on you. So you stopping in front of a store and catching your breath with your eyes wide has him already scanning the display for what could have sparked your own interest.

“Nothing, it’s just so…” You shake your head, already starting to walk away.

“Which?” Pale keeps his grip on you firm, plants his feet and stops you from leaving, not giving a shit about tourists who rush around you, the two of you like stubborn stones in a current.

“It’s nothing, Pale, really – ” You say, but he lets a small (the fuckin’ smallest) smile crack at the corner of his lips and he pulls you back close to him, close enough to his side that he can wind an arm around your middle and keep you from running the fuck off somewhere else.

“Which?” He asks again, softer but insistent, and you sigh, point right up to the glass but not touchin’ it. You didn’t like smudged windows, he knew that.

“That one.” You say, pointing to the mannequin right up front.

It’s wearing a deep blue dress, pinned with a golden brooch that looks like a spiral flower. The dress itself is a glittery fabric, and the brooch has diamonds and sapphires on it and Pale can’t get the picture of you wearin’ in out of his head, and he thinks you look damn good, and he doesn’t even bother looking at the tag because he’s going to get it for you no matter what.  

“You been a good girl this year?” He asks cheekily, kisses the corner of your mouth and you grin into his embrace.

“I don’t know, have I?” You ask, kissing him back and searching his gaze.

“Yeah, you have.” He says with a nod, and you can only blush.

Satisfied for now, Pale lets you lead him further and further down the street, off to see whatever else there is to see.

 Strings of street lights even stop lights blink a bright red and green

As the shoppers rush home with their treasures

Hear the snow crush see the kids bunch this is Santa's big scene

And above all this bustle you hear

 You had dragged Pale into John Wanamaker, and are watching the light show. Pale ain’t so sure how it actually works, but there’s moving pictures and lights up on the screen, lights on the tree, jets of water that spray and music that plays and you and he have a perfect fuckin’ spot right on the second level to see how it all changes.

He’s payin’ much more attention to you, as he always is.

“You didn’t answer me earlier.” He says, as he situates himself better behind you.

He’s got his arms around your middle, his chin resting on the top of your head. Your hands have come up to cover his, and you keep tappin’ his knuckles to the beat of the gentle Christmas music.

He thinks it ain’t so fair, that it’s all about Christmas all month long. Ain’t fair to the folks like you who don’t actually celebrate any of it. But you seem happy enough to appreciate the light show, the spectacle of it all for what it all is.

“Hm?” You ask, craning your neck around to look at him.

Pale’s stunned into silence for a moment just because of how fuckin’ pretty you are. The lights have you washed in all sorts of real nice colors, golds and reds and greens and he kisses you because holy shit, how can he not kiss you? You chuckle against his lips but keep the kiss chaste, much to his disappointment.

You’re both surrounded by people and he knows that you know that he doesn’t give a shit about that, would bend you over and fuck you right there. Probably for the best then, that you keep him under control.

“How come you wanted to come today?” He asks, trying to get back to his original point.

You shrug, settle back against his chest and hum to yourself as the snowmen on the screen light up and dance.

“I know you leave to go see the kids in what is it, two days?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Pale replies with a frown, not really wanting to be reminded about any of it.

“I thought might be nice to get you in a decent mood before you have to leave. You know, do all the holiday traditional things here since you ain’t gonna have a traditional Christmas down there.” You say, and Pale really does frown then.

“You wanted this…for me?” He asks, turning you around fully now, his chest doin’ something funny.

He ain’t so convinced that you’re not gonna kill him, with the way you make his chest and stomach do these little fuckin’ flips. His brother the doc told him it wasn’t nothin’ to be worried about, but sometimes when you go pullin’ stunts like this, he can’t help but think he’s gonna keel over with whatever this feeling is for you.

He knows, and you know, you know he knows and he knows you know he knows, what the feeling is.

“I wanted it for the both of us.” You say softly, almost drowned out by the music, before gesturing to the whole thing, the whole ordeal of leaving the apartment and venturing out into the snow, into the world. “But yeah, mostly for you.”

He doesn’t know what to do then, doesn’t know what to say. You’re too good for him, way too fuckin’ good. He wanted to tell you that, wanted to shout it and scream it out loud and interrupt the show to let all of the department store know how you’re the real fuckin’ angel.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t know how he could ever recover from that, so he just clenches his jaw instead and wills his eyes not to sting from the sudden wave of emotion that hits him from just that simple gesture, that simple wish for him that you had.

“I wish I could bring you down with me, I don’t like the thought of leaving you up here by your fuckin’ self.” Pale says instead, but he really means, I don’t like the thought of not being with you.

You hear it anyway, and smile sadly, and Pale wants to kill something at the way your eyes are sad like that.

“Maybe one of these years it can happen.” You whisper, and then the show is over, and there’s a thunderous applause, and people start to file out of the department store, off to do their shopping or their packing or their wrapping or who the fuck knows what else.

“Yeah, maybe.” Pale says, holding you tight, not letting you go anywhere just yet, not until he kisses you.

“We gotta cross the street to see the other side. I want a better look at that menorah.” You say when the kiss breaks, and he groans, lights a new cigarette and sticks it between his teeth.

“No.” He replies, but he’s already tugging you along, wanting to give you anything, wanting to give you everything.

You’re too good for him, way too fuckin’ good.

But maybe, just maybe, you think he’s good for you too.

And you do. He doesn’t want to believe it, but.

You do.

 Silver bells, silver bells

It's Christmastime in the city

Silver bells, silver bells, silver silver bells... 

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

Tagging my Pale lovin’ pals! <3  @fullofbees​​​​ @spinebarrel​​​​ @dreamboatdriver​​​​ @thecurlycaptain​​​​ @bourbonboredom​​​​ @driverficarchive​​​​ @rosalynbair​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​ @adamsnackdriver​​​​ @glitzescape​​​​ @adamsnacc-kler​​​​ @kyloxfem​​​​ @fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne​​​​ @attorneyl​​​​ @jedihbic​​​​ @bens-rose​​​​ @callmehopeless​​​​ @formerly-anonhamster​​​​ @thepilotanon​​​​ @hippieface​​​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​​​ @satansstrawberry @riseofkylo​​​ @whiskey-bumblebee​​​ @helloimindelaware​​ @magikevalynn​​ @scheherazades-horcrux​

#reader insert #pale x reader #pale burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver #my writing #12DoO #12 days of oneshots

[land-of-brains-and-chocolate]

alright alright alright alright alright. that’s it. alright. i read it.

pros:

both eddie and the symbiote are A LOT like themselves. like a lot. like this is one of the eddie-est adaptation eddies. it’s probably the most symbiote-esque adaptation symbiote...

i like to be like ooohhh i don’t care if it’s like the comics so long as the character works but reading actual “verbosely horrifying and having a grand old time” venom in a movie script made something happen in my heart and soul.

THE VISUALS? the ridiculous funny as fuck creative visuals? the constant looney tunes shit? venom is just goo. literally this is the number one thing i feel BETRAYED over not getting in venom (2018). he splattered against a fucking windshield and peeled himself off of it.

there’s like every miniseries that was out at that point in here. really you can break the first two points down to just. it’s really based on venom.

it’s way more unhinged than venom (2018). like it’s hama levels unhinged.

the symbiote... and its intact backstory and motivations... and that first fucking sequence literally i would kill to see it curl up and sleep. i would. “it felt safe with me like it finally had somewhere to belong” IMAGINE

separation anxiety sequences were. cool and good. like when their life signs and traumatic flashbacks synchronised. even it sacrificing itself was good, if underacted on eddie’s part. the jerk.

neutral:

they go for the “symbiotes amplify the host’s impulses and take on their characteristics” take, which is not my favourite, but is also understandable enough character development-wise. it ends up with eddie Facing His Inner Darkness, not eddie Equating Another Living Being To His Inner Darkness, so it’s on him to change and they’ve avoided the worst nastiness of it.

anne is replaced with kafka, but she’s not, you know, actively his psychologist and committing a crime in this version, so whatever.

eddie’s backstory changes, but it works out well enough, it connects him to cletus so he can have a spider-man-style obsessive nemesis.

eddie is SMALL and venom is just HUGE WISH FULFILLMENT.

i keep saying eddie but it’s “eddy” for some reason.

i know. i know. Is It Gay? it’s an amalgamation of pre-hunger books, so it’s as gay as those. lots of symbiote pining, marriage metaphors, the she-venom kiss originates here. eddie gets with kafka but she also says she wouldn't want to have to "share him" with the symbiote. do not ask me how it compares because i am in the minority in never having thought venom (2018) was all that gay.

cons:

hey? hey? did we have to reference the madness? did we have to? did we have to have eddie Overcome By Passion, her being scared and pushing him away, and then, her, as she-venom, equally Overcome By Passion, implying she Wanted It All Along? you can literally just cut the scene and they’re fine. they’re a thousand times less creepy. it adds nothing.

kafka gets verbally sexually assaulted by cletus, too, and i’d thought they’d at least let her have the she-venom lines about how YOU WANT CARESSES? for it, but nope those are the only ones they left out. there was no reason for it at all. stop assaulting dr. kafka please and thank you.

i can fucking tell dr. kafka versus the symbiote would have been SOUL-CRUSHINGLY EXHAUSTING in the sequels if there’d been any, but we only get the ending scene as a preview of that, as it is.

god, it’s so funny thinking of them trying to pull the visuals in this movie off in 1997, with flubber-level cgi. it would have been best animated, but then most comic book things would be.

would i rather have had this than venom (2018)? like, on some level, yes??? jesus. i would have loved 90% of this movie like my firstborn child. it’s incredibly stupid in the perfect way. it’s such a whole-hearted tribute. it certainly feels more creative and exciting, primarily through being stupid.

on the other hand, we would never have gotten the phenomenon and the community that were spawned by venom (2018). the new characters people grew attached to. the host and symbiote’s relationship was completely different and more straight-forwardly the focus there, giving the symbiote a voice and all. they’re not all that comparable, really.

they only took two scenes from this script, but since it’s a carnage script, i’m REALLY interested to see how much they take from it for the next one. there’s already the burning orphanage.

#GOD! #what a ride.

[sparxwrites]

(once upon a time, i watched this video, fell in love with everything about it, and ended up enthusiastically discussing the mighty mein going noodling with @ladyofrosefire. when i outlined the fic below to her, she then very ill-advisedly encouraged me to write it. so. here we are. in advance: i’m so sorry, and also you’re welcome.

[ao3]

“So– how does this work, again?” asked Fjord, with more than a little hesitation, watching Yasha strip off her armour and shirt until she was left standing in her breastband and trousers under the midday sun. “I mean, obviously, I’ve done this before, but, um, it’s been a while. Little rusty, you know? Just wondering if your technique is any different to mine…”

He himself was already down to just trousers, and Caduceus – ever unashamed – was already buck naked and floating in the creek, straw hat over his face as he let the lazy current tug him gradually further downstream.

Yasha gave Fjord an odd look. “There’s catfish in the holes along the bank,” she said, lowering herself carefully into the creek from the high bank and shivering at the cold of the water on bare skin. The sun was high in the sky, the day hot and bright – Jester was sunning herself on the bank, as a matter of fact – but apparently little of that heat had leeched into the river. “Other creatures build them, and then the catfish take them. So when you find a hole, you put your legs in it, and just sort of… kick around, until the catfish tries to come out. And then you grab it and pull it out of the water.”

“And then you eat it!” cried Nott, triumphantly. “Far away from the river, hopefully.”

“And then you eat it,” agreed Yasha, absently, wading her way into the centre of the creek and submerging herself up to the neck. The look on her face was nothing short of blissful, her hair fanning out behind her atop the water like tendrils of smoke. “Oh, and Fjord? Be careful grabbing the bank. There might be snakes in the grass. Or spiders. Big spiders.”

Fjord swallowed, hard. “Right. Yes! Big spiders. And snakes. Of course. Pretty, um, pretty standard noodling dangers. You know.”

“…You’ve never done this before, have you?” asked Yasha, as Fjord slid gingerly into the water after her.

Hissing at the toe-curling crispness of the creek, Fjord cast a brief, furtive look at the others on the bank. Caleb was engrossed in his book, Beau was busy stripping off, and Nott was arguing with Jester about something or another. They were safe from prying ears.

“Nope!” he said, quietly, and the forcible chirpiness in his own voice made him wince. “Not a clue what I’m doing. Complete beginner.”

Yasha’s face softened a little, as much as it ever did – a slight easing of the tension around her eyes, the barest un-furrowing of her brow. “It’s not that hard,” she offered, tilting her head back to wet the back of her head. The heat and high sun had not agreed with her, the past few days, and it was nice to be cold again. “I’m sure you’ll do–”

“Cannonball!” yelled Beau, which was all the warning any of them got before a monk-shaped blur bombed into the water. Her impressively powerful impact threw up enough of a splash to sprinkle Jester, and nearly enough to spatter Caleb’s book with water. Nott hissed, baring her teeth, and hid herself a little more carefully behind Caleb’s back.

“There go all the fish,” said Fjord, idly, as Beau resurfaced, pink-cheeked and gasping with her hair slicked back against her head.

“Oh, fuck, that’s cold!” she yelped, frantically treading water with half-numb limbs and no breath in her lungs. “Shit.”

“Beau, the fish!” yelled Jester, from the bank.

“Oh, fuck, the fish– oh shit, sorry, my bad–”

Yasha sighed, and submerged herself entirely, letting the water close slowly over her head and silence the noise.

When she re-emerged, Beau was treading water in a slightly more sedate manner, and Jester had stopped shouting quite so loudly. Fjord had made his way over to the bank, a little ways downstream, eyeing the dirt and water in front of him with both determination and trepidation as he began awkwardly hunting for catfish holes.

“Why’s it called noodling, Yasha?” called Jester from her place in the scrub grass, kicking her bare toes idly in the air. She too had stripped down, to just bloomers and a breastband – even Caleb, sat beside her with his nose in a book, had shed his customary coat and undone the front of his shirt. Only Nott was still fully dressed, and glaring at the water like it might bite her. “It’s such a weird name, you, know, like you could call it, oh, catfishing, or fish tickling, or just, like, grabbing fish in holes and wrestling them, or-”

“In my tribe, we always used to say it was because you had to use your noodle,” said Yasha, absently, rapping her knuckles lightly against her skull. She was already combing the opposite bank to Fjord for likely fish-spots, moving this way and that in the water, occasionally pausing to prod at the bank with one leg. She looked focused, but at ease, the tension gone out of her shoulders in a way none of them had seen in a while. “But you’re right. It’s a pretty funny name, when you think about it. I–”

Her words, however, were cut short by a blood-curdling howl.

Every member of the Mighty Nein turned, in unison, towards the source of the noise. Those on the bank who had weapons drew them, and those in the water immediately regretted voluntarily disarming themselves when it seemed clear they would need to fight– something. Some awful, unseen monster, that was apparently attempting to drag Fjord underwater and into the bank, as he clung white-knuckled to an exposed tree-root in an attempt to resist. His screaming was terrible, full-throated and pained, his face twisted in a rictus of agony.

“Oh, oh gods!” he yelled, voice a full octave higher than usual. “I- I found a catfish! And it’s– got my testicle– Oh god, oh dear lord– dear Wildmother, please let it let go, oh-hhhho fuck–”

There was a long moment’s frozen silence, broken only by Fjord’s continued, hollered curses.

“Your… testicle?” repeated Beau, lowering her fists slowly. The look of shock on her face was sliding away, replaced by a twitch at the corner of her mouth that curled into a slow, incredulous grin. “Holy shit, wait, a catfish bit your balls?”

Over on the bank, Nott began to cackle.

With a final, strangled noise of pain, Fjord shot free from whatever hole he’d half sunk into, kicking frantically away from the bank and towards the shallow slope where he could exit the water. His swimming was made distinctly ungainly by the hand dipped low between his legs, cupped over the fork of them in a meagre effort to protect his balls from any other hungry catfish that might be lurking nearby.

“Over here, Fjord!” called Jester, from the bank, helpfully waving her arms above her head in case he had forgotten where they were. “Over here, I can heal you! I will save your balls, don’t worry!”

“No, it’s- I’m fine!” managed Fjord, as he hauled himself out of the creek. As he staggered to his feet and towards their little encampment, there was a distinct limp to his walk. “You really don’t have to– I’ve got it, it’s fine, really! No cleric needed!”

There was the faint, familiar glow of the Wildmother’s healing magic around his fingertips, and the painful stumble of his steps got a little more relaxed.

That didn’t deter Jester, though, from immediately reaching for Fjord’s pants when he flopped down next to them all on the bank. He batted her hands away, flushing a dark copper, his own palm still cupped tenderly between his legs – to protect himself not only from any catfish that might attempt to brave dry land, but from the overly enthusiastic cleric in front of him.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Fjord?” asked Nott, managing to control her laughter for long enough to form words, wiping tears from her eyes. “Maybe Jester should take a look. I mean, it’s not like you can afford to lose a nut, when you’ve barely got a pair to begin with–” She broke off into howls of amusement once more, doubled over with the force of it.

If looks could kill, Fjord’s glare would have dropped Nott dead on the spot.

“Leave the poor man’s testicles alone, the pair of you,” said Caleb, idly, though there was a certain sparkle to his eye as he watched the indignant half-orc drip onto the grass, rubbing at the crease of his thigh. “They have suffered enough already. Bad enough they were used as catfish bait – they do not need you bothering them too.”

In the water, Beau was laughing so hard she was struggling to stay afloat, forced to stop treading water and actually put her feet down to avoid drowning.

Fjord, for some reason, didn’t seem to find the situation quite as funny. “Look, it’s– I’m fine, yes, ha ha, Fjord got his testicles bitten by a fish, can we move on…?” he said, testily, one hand still cupped half-protectively by his crotch. “It’s really not that amusing, Nott, you really don’t have to laugh–”

“The fish only bit one ball, though,” Jester interrupted, ignoring him completely. “…Oh my gosh, Fjord, do you have a ball that’s, like, your juicy ball? Is that a thing? Caleb, is having one really big ball a thing?”

Caleb, his nose back in his book to hide his own amusement, wisely chose not to answer.

“Where’s Caduceus?!” demanded Jester. “I feel like he should, you know, be an expert on this. Since he’s a cleric, and he also has balls, and everything.”

“Ah, Caduceus is– gone, I think.” Caleb didn’t look up from his book, flipping a page as he spoke – more for show than anything, still trying to stifle his own chuckles. “He left a while ago.”

Jester blinked, looking around frantically as though Caduceus might materialise from one of the scrubby bushes around them if she looked at it hard enough. “Gone? What do you mean, gone? Why would he leave? When is he coming back?! Oh my gosh, is he gone forever, I never even-”

“Nein,” said Caleb, finally glancing at her for a second in fond exasperation, “not forever. He just went off downstream. I’m sure he will be back in his own time.”

It took Fjord, distracted by his still faintly throbbing testicle, a moment to parse that particular comment. “Off down… you mean, Caduceus just drifted off?” he asked, slow and incredulous. “And no one thought to, I don’t know, go after him, or stop him? You just let him go. Down the river. That’s full of vicious catfish. And we have no idea where it goes.”

“He looked so peaceful in the water.” Jester pouted, clearly offended at the implication that losing Caduceus was even partially her fault. “Like he was asleep, or something! I didn’t want to wake him up or, you know, disturb him, or…”

“He was asleep?! That makes it worse!”

“I didn’t think he would just drift off, Fjord, oh my gosh–”

There was a distant splash from the river, some soft cursing, and some more splashing. “I got one!” called Yasha, a moment later, mild delight colouring her usually flat voice. “A catfish, for dinner. A big one.”

The others turned, as one, to the creek. There stood Yasha, chest-deep in water, sopping wet, and holding a catfish over her head. An enormous catfish. It was easily longer than Nott was tall, thrashing indignantly in Yasha’s grip with an alarming amount of power in its fat, slippery body. Her fingers, hooked into its mouth and wrapped around its tail, were grazed bloody from the same powerful jaws and sandpapery teeth that had menaced Fjord’s testicle.

“Holy shit, Yasha!” yelled Jester, delightedly. “It’s huge! I didn’t know fish even got that big!”

Beau whistled low and long in the water, drifting to one side to let Yasha pass. “Maybe even as big as Fjord’s ball!” she called, grinning as Fjord flipped her an obscene gesture from the catfish-free safety of dry land.

Yasha waded her way through the creek to the bank, Beau trailing a few feet behind. Exiting the water was something of an adventure, with both hands full of squirming catfish – but, between her and Beau, they managed it, Yasha scrambling out with her fingers hooked in the creature’s gills as Beau supported the tail.

“It was a good fight. This is going to make beautiful food,” said Yasha, quiet pride in her voice, as she heaved her prize down onto the blanket next to Caleb, much to Caleb’s visible displeasure. It gave a single, deeply half-hearted flop, and then fell still, one beady eye staring balefully at the wizard as he shuffled over to put a good foot-and-a-half between him and the fish. “I hope Caduceus will cook it for us, even if he doesn’t–”

She paused, mid sentence, looking over at Beau clambering out of the otherwise-empty creek. Her gaze slid back to group clustered on the bank, counting over them, marking the absence of a certain, conspicuous, pink firbolg. “Hey,” she asked, frowning, as Beau flopped down next to the fish, dripping wet and pink with the cold of the creek. “Has anyone seen Caduceus…?”

#critical role #critfic #critical role fanfiction #fjord stone #yasha nydoorin #critrole 2.0 #fic #guys PLEASE go watch that video. i know it's 40mins long but it's So Fucking Funny #anyways this is like. pure dumbassery. not quite crackfic but close #fjord... i'm So Sorry.....

[spongeekat]

Life as a Super powered Omega Sucks (Chapter 3)

read on ao3

Masterlist Here

“So we’re just hanging around until you need us?”

“Pretty much. Is that an issue?”

“No, Mr. Stark.” Peter answered immediately, before the dejected tone in his voice could be called out. He glanced over at Wade, who was grinning mockingly at him.

“ No, Mr. Stark .” Wade repeated in a whispered girlish tone, and Peter grabbed a pillow to launch at his face. It was a little harder than he intended, he could admit, especially when the impact caused Wade to go tumbling off the side of his bed.

“Great. Things were a little difficult today with Romanoff and she had a close call when she was nearly discovered. Once we verify that our blueprints of the armory are correct, we’ll commence with our plans. Until then, we have to assure that we have no chance of alerting these guys to our presence. You two have a funny way of drawing attention to yourselves.” Mr Stark paused on the other end of the line, and his voice lowered suspiciously. “You haven’t done anything to make people notice you, have you?”

“Uhhh…” Peter paused thoughtfully, scratching the side of his head. The bed shifted underneath him, Wade pathetically crawling back up onto the mattress like a wounded puppy. “I don’t think so. Besides like, the usual going out for food and stuff.”

“Terrific. So you’re already pulling your weight. Sorry, kid, I know this probably sounded faster paced and more exciting at the meeting, but things sometimes have to take their time. SHIELD has been planning the dismantlement of these terrorists longer than you’ve been Spider-Man.”

“It’s okay. Just happy to help.”

“If babysitting Diaperpool gets too annoying, call me or Steve. We’ll send someone over to muzzle him until he’s needed.”

“Wade’s been fine. Annoying, but fine.” Peter returned, snickering at Wade’s offended expression.

“I gotta go before Barton and Romanoff decide to sneak off and mess with Coulson. Stay safe.”

“Will do, Mr. Stark. Thanks.”

Mr Stark hung up with a click, leaving Peter to stare at his burner with disappointment. He’d hoped things would maybe have progressed further, especially considering he was usually consistently busy in his daily life, and at the present moment, he was so insanely bored he almost wished he had a term paper due tomorrow. It wasn’t like they could go sight-seeing, either; the others had made it painfully clear that they were to stay put in the small city until someone came to collect them.

He still had more pressing matters hanging over his head as well, and every hour he spent on suppressants he felt like he was going insane.

Peter had taken his fourth dose of suppressants a few hours back, and he could already feel his body begging to be let off of them. His skin was hypersensitive, and even the brush of a blanket was enough to make him throw the entire comforter onto the floor. Wade had been his only distraction- his presence somehow endearing despite the fact his scent was overwhelming at times- but even witty banter wasn’t enough to keep his focus entirely off of the symptoms plaguing his system. He quietly turned his head towards the window, peering past sheer curtains to stare at the sky dripping with thick, grey clouds. The dreary town seemed just a bit heavier, especially with the trickling of rain pattering against the paths and pulling up dirt into the air.

He just wanted to feel needed. Was that too much to ask?

“Sooo, we’re sitting ducks?” Wade asked from behind Peter, and he felt Wade inching closer towards him. He shot a look back at the man, who retreated to instead stand a foot or so away. “Wanna go out?”

“We’ve looked through the entire place twice. I don’t think we’re gonna find any new food places just because we walk around again.” Peter groaned.

“No, no, no, I don’t mean here. We’re, what, 45 minutes out of Moscow? You’d love it there, Pete! I know you said some other time, but I can tell you’re going crazy here, and I’m supposed to be the only unstable one.”

Peter sat without a word, waiting in amusement for him to say he was joking. The look of determination on Wade’s face made him realize he was dead serious. “Moscow? Just so we can mess everything up if someone recognizes you?”

“Not the nice parts with cameras and mafias, obviously. The shitty parts is where you have all the fun. And anyone who recognizes me there probably paid me to kill their rich cousin at some point. We could find a party, or an orgy if that’s more your style. Oooo, you’ve never been to a party, have you? It’d be so fun!” Wade didn’t respect Peter’s wish for space this time, bounding directly onto the bed to sit inside his personal bubble. “Russian parties are the coolest, because there’s no rules and everyone here is fucking depressing. So they go hard to have a little bit of fun before drowning their sadness in vodka.”

“I’m not going to a party. Or another city. I’m not leaving the hotel room. Mr. Stark would kill me.” Peter said in irritation, rolling off the bed to stand near the window. The breeze coming through reminded him of his pathetic blanket and uncomfortable bed he’d have to huddle for warmth again that night, as he grimaced. “This is my one chance to prove I can do things right.”

“And you still will! Just after having a wild night.”

Peter stared at him wordlessly.

“Okay, a slightly crazy night that you don’t wake up too hungover from.”

“Wade.”

“Fine, fine, Pete, be a drag. But I’m getting on the next party train to Moscow with or without you. And I really hope it’s with you, because I need my arm candy to get into these things. Looking like a burn victim only gets me so far, honey buns.” Wade jumped off Peter’s bed, crossing towards the door. When he reached it, he threw a look back over his shoulder with the saddest puppy-dog look he could muster. “You can still go on this infiltration mission later. You’re travelling. I know you don’t usually have the money to do that. Why not enjoy it for one night? You deserve a reward for being a hero every once in a while.”

Peter sucked in a breath, but didn’t comment. He didn’t deserve anything. He had the power to help people, so he was obligated to do whatever he could.

But as Wade left, Peter could feel the comfort he’d had in his presence ebbing out of his body as well, being replaced by the tense achiness he’d been feeling for the past 2 days. Being left alone sounded like the last thing he wanted right now- even though it was usually how he preferred to spend days he didn’t feel so hot- and he wasn’t so sure Wade would even make it back to their motel in one piece if left alone to make bad decisions.

If Mr Stark were here, he would tell Peter not to listen to Wade and to stay put as he was instructed to do. But Mr Stark wasn’t here, and Wade’s reasoning for why he should go was weighing heavily on his mind. He didn’t get to travel often and so far he was spending this vacation couped up in a small town waiting to be useful for an hour. Who cares how he spent the other 96, so long as he didn’t jeopardize the mission?

He was pulling his shoes on quicker than he could make a decision, and had his door locked and a dose of suppressants in his back pocket a moment later. Wade lit up when he stepped out into the hall to find Peter already waiting for him.

“Glad to see you still know how to have fun.” The merc beamed, extending an escorting arm to Peter he refused to take. “I promise I’ll make rebelling worth it.”

“No Moscow.” Peter said, his voice stiff. “But there was that cool looking bar up the road- the one with the skylight? - and we still have enough cash to get both of us at least mildly drunk, right?”

“I like the way you think, Spidey.” Wade chuckled, leading them down the grimy hallway towards the exit of the hotel. “I’ll drag you to Moscow or Paris some other time. And if we run out of money for drinks, I’ve got a few Xanys in my back pocket. Either way, I can’t wait to see what you’re like when you’re fucked up, baby boy.”

--

Wade spent the entire walk there detailing his past crazy adventures and near-death experiences when visiting Russia. Peter nearly regretted agreeing to follow him, particularly when he started to delve into the R-rated details, but he had to admit the distraction was nice. Even the worry that Mr. Stark would find out where they’d gone was preferable to sitting alone in his room, trying to ignore the cramps deep in his abdomen.

The bar exterior was a bit busier than it had been the night before, but this spot seemed to be the only social gathering place in the entire town, so it wasn’t a surprise to find a mixture of people of all ages laughing and drinking with one another. Music played faintly from inside- some Russian pop music, Peter guessed- and the lights inside were dim, making it conveniently easier for Peter and Wade to keep up some anonymity.

Wade pushed through the doorway with a grip on Peter’s wrist to drag him, the back of Wades body melting into a dark blob as they entered the space. As they approached the actual bar, Wade drew Peter up next to him, giving him a toothy grin. “What do you normally order?”

“At..bars?” Peter asked, hushing his voice. “I’m 20. I’ve never been inside of one.”

Wade chuckled in a way that made Peter’s face immediately light up in embarrassment, leaning cooly against the counter. “You’re a superhero, friends with a billionaire scientist that has access to all his cool gadgets and gizmos and shit, and spend your nights probably stopping bar hits, and you don’t have a fake ID?”

“No? I mean my friend and I have drank like wine coolers and stuff before from her parents’ fridge.”

“You’re lucky the drinking age here is 18, you’re cute enough that no one can say no to that face, and I can speak the language.”

Wade turned to speak to the bartender as Peter’s stomach twisted, and he waited impatiently beside him to get their drinks so he could get some space back between him and Wade’s overpowering scent.

It took a minute of negotiation for Wade to finally get the man to fork over 2 double-shots and 2 mixed drinks, and Wade passed him a bill that looked way too big for the amount of alcohol they were handed. Peter grabbed his offered glasses and they picked their way through the crowd to an open loveseat furthest from the speakers to protect Peter’s sensitive hearing, and give them their privacy from the rest of the bar goers.

“Bottoms up, Petey pie!” Wade saluted with his shot, making Peter mimic the motion.

As they both chugged their shot, Peter couldn’t help but think that was definitely how he wanted to be right now with the hormones raging through his system, effectively making him choke on the last ounce of alcohol.

“Whoaaa, you really are inexperienced, huh?” Wade laughed, patting Peter on the back as he sputtered for air. “You gotta hang out with me more if you can’t even handle a vodka shot.”

“I-I’m fine.” Peter gagged, finally managing to get oxygen back to his lungs as his throat stopped spasming in alarm. He settled back into the cushions of the loveseat as far from Wade as he could get without making it obvious he was avoiding him, but the merc made no comment on the increased distance.

“You can wash it down with your martini.”

“I at least know what that is, and it’s definitely not gonna help.”

“Worth a try.”

Peter rolled his eyes and reached for it anyways, to give him something to do with his hands. The feeling of the alcohol sitting warm in his stomach at least helped to mask some of his other symptoms, which he was grateful for.

“So, I know they gave you the choice to stay in an actual house and not in some sleazy town more infested with bugs than Stark’s pubic hair.” Wade mused as he took shockingly large drinks of his own martini. “Why’d you pick here?”

“They don’t know my face or name or...anything else about me. At least, everyone but Mr Stark.” Peter stared into the glass, briefly considering telling Wade the predicament he was in. Wade was kind, and he was the one who was least likely to judge him for being an omega, or try to get him to drop the mission. But he was also a blabbermouth, and Peter wasn’t sure he wouldn’t sell his secret out for street cred with the rest of the team. “Plus, I don’t think I’d ever have the guts to do this if I was stuck in a house with Natasha. She’d have me running laps for hours or Clint would make me clean his bows or something.”

“While they got it on in the other room?”

“Ew.” Peter reeled automatically, then really considered it and looked incredulously at Wade. “You don’t think they’re…?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wade laughed.

“I didn’t think about it.” Peter paused, then repeated, “Ew.”

---

An hour later, Wade had spent way too much of their money shoveling shots down Peter’s throat, and the both of them had successfully gotten pretty tipsy.

The later it got, the louder the other patrons grew, which meant Peter and Wade could giggle stupidly over cheesy jokes while remaining inconspicuous among the public eye. Peter could feel a slight tingle on the surface of his skin, which meant he’d have to head back to the hotel soon, but he was admittedly having too much fun to be overly-cautious. He hadn’t let go and relaxed like this in over a year, and sitting so close to Wade just felt good in ways he couldn’t really explain.

And of course, as soon as the universe had handed him one good moment, it was ready to give him two bad ones.

The chorus of Take on Me started to play from Peter’s pocket, his burner ringtone, and he reached clumsy fingers to dig for the device.

“A-ha! Gotta say, I love your choices.” Wade drawled, strewn out over the loveseat.

Peter managed to fumble the cheap flip-phone open, and the initials TS made his heart stop in his chest. “M-Mr. Stark.”

Panic punched into Peter’s gut, and his stomach gave an unbidden lurch. He gaped at the screen, feeling as if the phone call was his martini playing with his eyes. Yet, after a few gasps of air to steady his nerves, he determined it really was Mr Stark calling him.

“You gonna answer?” Wade was gazing down at the name over his shoulder, closer than Peter remembered, which only served to make him jump.

“I have to, I think.” Peter swallowed, hopping off the couch as his mind whirled. The heat symptoms were a bit worse now, amplified by the sudden panic. “Um, I’ll be back.”

He staggered to the entrance of the bar, past a few concerned onlookers that whispered incoherently- likely about the stress evident in his expression. Peter stepped out onto the lightly populated street, gulping down frozen air, before he finally clicked the green ‘answer’ button and pulled the phone to his ear.

“H-Hi, Mr. Stark.” Peter smiled stupidly into the air, trying to remember what he sounded like sober. “Um, what’s up?”

“Checking in. I feel like I was too short with you earlier. I know it can’t be easy to sit around in a gross hotel and being kept in the dark due to SHIELD clearance.”

“I’m okay!” Peter insisted in a forceful manner, biting his lip to keep from letting his mouth wander into a tangent as he often did when nervous. “I mean, I’m having a good time.” He stopped. “I mean, it’s not that bad.”

“Right.” Mr Stark responded with apprehension. “I just wanted to be sure. Surprisingly. I do have a shred of a conscience and know you weren’t entirely thrilled about this mission in the first place.”  

“Yeah, yeah but I’m like totally glad to help.”

“And it’s appreciated. ”

Peter didn’t have a good response, so he fell silent for God-knows-how-long, unable to actually tell due to the alcohol in his system.

“ Are you drunk right now?”

The accusation made the vodka that had settled in his stomach turn ice-cold.

Peter wracked his brain for an answer, though it was clear Mr. Stark had already made up his mind.

He disappeared from the line for a moment, cursing with a hostile tone under his breath, before returning with an aggressive hmph of breath. “ You’ve got to be shitting me. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I-I, I was just-”

“ You weren’t thinking is the simple answer. You never do. You know this isn’t just about you, or the Avengers, or proving to SHIELD I wasn’t completely insane for thinking a 20 year old was competent enough to work with us. This is about proving to me you weren't the child you were when I met you. But it looks like I was wrong. ”

Peter felt a stab of pain in his gut, and tears sprung to his eyes. Oh god, he couldn’t start crying now, standing outside of a bar and looking pathetically out of place. Mr Stark’s words hurt, and they made him feel sick to his stomach. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was break his trust or disappoint him.

“ I’m sorry, Mr Stark.”

“Sorry’s aren’t good enough. You’re too smart for this, Peter. I’m disappointed.”  

Peter felt another sharp strike in his abdomen, and he faltered. It was different. This wasn’t just guilt wringing his insides. Below the top layer of his skin, he could feel a slight fever beginning. Shit.  

“ I’m coming to get you.”

“ No!” Peter blurted out, berating himself silently a moment later. “I-I mean I’m...I’m not at the hotel right now. Wade and I went out to a bar in town and he’s in the bathroom right now. Plus I-I still gotta pack.”

Mr Stark made an upset noise. “ Fine. I’m driving over when the sun comes up in the morning, then. Don’t do anything else to fuck up any worse, got it? ”

“Yes, sir.” Peter swallowed, curling his fingers tighter around the phone. The cramps were hitting hard. His entire stomach felt like it was being flooded with fire. “I’m really sorry.”

“ Drink water and try to eat something before you go to bed. The last thing we need is to explain a hangover to Coulson in the morning .” Mr Stark paused with a sigh, clearly distressed. “ I know you’re young. I know you wanna do things kids your age should be doing. But you can’t be both a kid and an Avenger. You have to pick one or the other. I’ll call you when I’m almost there.”

The phone call ended as Peter’s breath hitched, and he leaned back against the wall of the bar, clutching his stomach. His eyes burned and his body was giving clear warning signs of impending heat symptoms. They had to get back, before Peter threw up vodka and everything he’d eaten for 2 days in Shcherbinka, or worse- broke down into tears.

He just had to find-

“Ooooooh shit. Did I get you in trouble?”

Peter started as he stood straight, Wade watching him from the entrance of the bar.

Peter ran fingertips fast under his eyes but it seemed to be too late, the merc striding towards him with concern strewn across his features.

“Petey, hey, what’s up?” Wade asked in a softer voice, maintaining his distance but holding out a comforting hand. “Was he that mad? Fuck, baby boy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d find out.”

“Let’s head back.” Peter muttered, brushing his hand out of the way so he could head down the sidewalk. He could feel Wade walking behind him, but was grateful that he gave him his space.

------

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a pounding at the door.

In reality, it was likely just a normal-volumed knock, but the pressure in his head was growing exponentially, and coupled with his distraction, he hadn’t heard anyone approaching. His grasp tightened around the syringe in his fingers, feeling the glass splintering slightly, but he finally released it onto the top of his TV stand and pulled himself to his feet. For reasons beyond his control he felt annoyed at being interrupted. Even if the person on the other side of the door didn’t know the suffering he was subjecting himself to at the moment, his shoulders were tense and he was ready to give them an earful about invading his space. It was close to midnight. Who felt the need to show up and bother him now? All he wanted was to crawl into bed and wind the covers tight around himself, so tight he would be unable to breathe- just to feel surrounded by warmth and darkness. Not answer the door to some late night housemaid or the receptionist trying to remind him he was checking out tomorrow.

He yanked the door open until it nearly slammed against the wall, ready to snap, when Wade’s face came into view. He stopped, swallowing back all the surprise rooted in his stomach, and managed a meek “what?”

“I forgot to give you back your wallet.” Wade said as he held out the pleather tri-fold, staring strangely at Peter. He knew he probably looked wild-eyed and angry, but he was barely keeping himself in control at this point. Everything felt uncomfortable in his body, as if his muscles couldn’t find a point in which they didn’t feel strained. “Petey? You look like shit. Is Iron Man being an Iron Bitch still bothering you?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Peter muttered and reached for his wallet. He tensed when Wade’s gloves wrapped around his lithe wrist, squeezing lightly. The pressure was enough to set his skin on fire, and he couldn’t bring himself to move away from the contact.

Alpha…

“Hey, hey, you’re shaking.” Wade’s voice was clearly concerned now, and Peter cursed his inability to drop things. He made another move for his wallet, but the other drew it further back. “Are you sick? Peter?”

“I’m fine.” Peter grunted, his eyes blearily focusing on the texture of Wade’s sleeve. This close to Wade his scent was intoxicating, stronger than it ever had been, and the smell of burnt pine and expired rain wafted up through his head. It made him dizzy, and electricity sparked over his arms and down into his stomach. His scent alone was enough to make him quiver.

Suddenly, his pants felt too tight, and the realization of what Wade’s presence was doing to him had his dreary vision snapping back into focus. But it was too late, because the taller man was already steering him back into the room towards the bed.

“Do you need anything? I can run to the store, or call Daddy Stark or something. I don’t want you dropping dead on me, baby boy.” Wade’s mouth was so close behind his head, Peter imagined he could feel his hot breath on his ear and neck. Every step they took towards the bed was another cramp knotting in his stomach, and he wanted to scream from the pressure. Suppressants were supposed to eliminate the symptoms of heat, not just stop it in its wake. But he’d also never been on them for 2 days before, so he wasn’t sure when their effectiveness started to falter. “Here, lay down. I’ll get you all snug and then I’ll grab anything you want.”

Alpha… smells good.

Peter’s body moved on its own, making the painful crawl into his covers, before he collapsed in the middle of the bed onto his back, dropping his head back in the pillows. The world spun a bit before his eyes finally settled on Wade, who was sitting on the edge of the mattress staring at him. He gazed down at his arms, his pulsing muscles begging to be released from the tight hoodie material, and trailed back up to his broad shoulders and neck. Everything about Wade screamed dominance and strength, and his omega side was begging him to reach out to be held. Still, Wade didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, his eyes cast lower down on the bed. Peter followed his gaze, trailing over the blankets and down to his hips, where the blankets had stopped.

His erection was standing tall in his jeans, making every effort to escape the confines of the uncomfortable fabric and seek out Wade’s attention. And Wade was staring directly at it.

His expression was unreadable,  but Peter assumed he was completely freaked out as to why his friend had a clear hard-on after being touched by him, and he grabbed a pillow to shove down on his waist.

“Oh my god.” Peter whispered in mortification, his voice gravelly. He squeezed his eyes shut as the heat in his stomach rose to mirror on his cheeks, rolling onto his side just so Wade would stop gawking at him. “I-I’m so sorry, I’m just tired and you showed up and I can’t help it-...”

“Me?” Wade finally asked, his voice a pitch lower and focused. Peter felt the bed shift, and then a hand lightly settled onto his shoulder, as if he would break him if he put any weight on him. “Pumpkin, hey, it’s okay, look at me.”

Peter shook his head, refusing to face the humiliation as he buried his face further into the pillows. He wanted to scream and cry at the same time, and curse his biology for being so fucking inconvenient it was ruining everything about this weekend. Why couldn’t he just be a beta? Why an omega? Why did the world hate him so much?

Wade applied a bit more pressure onto his shoulder and forced him to return to laying on his back, his other hand moving to lightly rest on Peter’s abdomen. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” He murmured, his gloved fingertips rubbing light circles right on the spot there was the most tension in his stomach. “Can I help?”

“What?” Now Peter finally looked back up at him, red eyes widening drastically. The question sent another wave of warmth crashing through his pelvis, and he knew the swelling wasn’t about to go down any time soon.

Wade’s hand inched lower, grazing the waistband of his jeans, though his fingers didn’t dip inside, clearly waiting for full, and clear, permission. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you here alone like this.” He murmured, his voice sounding tighter. Peter swallowed back his jumpiness and looked down at the hand dancing over his hips, willing his body not to buck up needily for the attention it craved. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. But if you want me to make you cum, I will. Just say the word.”

I need it.  

“Wade, I…” Peter didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have the strength to tell him no, to save himself from the humiliation of letting his friend get him off, but he also didn’t know if he wanted to tell him no. Maybe it was his heat still getting shoved back in his body, or the nights he’d spent jerking off to thoughts of Wade (only on occasion; he had said some pretty suggestive things in the past) but denying him felt like the wrong option.

“If you don’t want to see me you can keep your eyes shut and pretend it’s someone else. I won’t mind. This doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Peter knew that wasn’t true, that taking this step would result in a lot more confusion and tension filtering into their relationship, but the thought of Wade’s warm mouth swallowing him down his throat sent a shiver up his spine.

If there was anything he knew about Wade, it was that he had a lot of experience in that department.

Peter nodded numbly, draping one arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to face reality.

“I need to hear you say it, angel. I don’t want to cross any boundaries unless you’re sure you want this.” Wade added as his fingers tugged and undid his button, the zipper audibly being drug down.

“I want it.” Peter croaked, instantly feeling his temperature spike. “Please don’t make me say anything else.”

Peter couldn’t see Wade, but he could practically feel his smirk of satisfaction. As promised, Wade moved on the bed so that his weight was bridged over Peter’s legs and pulled his pants and boxers down without asking any more of him.

The cold air rushing over his dick almost made Peter moan in relief, but he bit his lip to keep the sounds at bay. In the darkness he could hear every movement Wade was making, from the rub of denim against itself to the creeks of the cheap bed springs underneath them. Wade’s mouth was absent, and the only real reminder he had that he was there was a hand pressing steady into his thigh, gripping bruisingly against the skin, while his other hand fondled with part of his own clothing. He almost wanted to ask if this was alright, reassure Wade he didn’t have to do this, but then, God , Wade’s face returned close to his pelvis with a hot breath brushing over the tip of his cock.

Peter almost came right then.

“Just try to relax,” Wade spoke lowly, each word sending a puff of breath over his sensitive flesh that had him twitching. “You smell delicious.”

He didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before an overwhelming warmth enveloped the head and continued down. Each inch Wade took into his mouth sent more and more stars flashing in Peter’s eyes, and his entire body went tense. Whatever self control he had before melted away, as his mouth hung open in utter awe at the sensations. He’d gotten head before, though he was in his heat, so he didn’t quite remember it. Now, however, when his nerves were extra sensitive from his symptoms falling off but he was otherwise mentally alert, he was choking on the pure bliss. Eventually he felt Wade’s nose press snug into his pubes, and he realized, with an embarrassed gulp, that his dick was pressed in the back of Wade’s throat.

Then the mercenary swallowed, and Peter’s voice shot out in utter ecstasy.

“G-God, Wade, p-please…” Peter didn’t know what he was begging for, possibly relief from the mind-boggling fever he felt twisting his gut, but Wade seemed to comply. His mouth retreated until his cock once again bobbed free, and Wade tongued precum dribbling from the slit. Peter picked his head up in reaction only to drop it back against the pillows, a groan echoing from his chest. Wade hadn’t been exaggerating when he said his scars were everywhere. His dick once again penetrating his mouth and brushing along the inside of his cheeks proved that. The texture had him crooning instantly.

Wade apparently decided that toying with Peter was more important than actually pleasing him, if his slow, firm pace was any indication. Everything about Wade normally was erratic and unruly, dangerously unpredictable, and yet now he demonstrated perfect control, unwilling to let the twitches or whines leaving Peter’s throat to deter him from his perfectly measured beats. His lips tightened and a slight suction drew more pressure to the surface of Peter’s groin.

There was a low grunt from Wade’s mouth, almost like garbled words attempting to be formed around the length, and Peter drew his arm away enough just to glance down at him. The scandalous sight that met him as his vision readjusted to the light had his heart leaping up into his throat, a throb echoing through his limbs and making his stomach churn. “What?” He panted, on the edge of going absolutely insane from his taunting.

Wade repeated his hum, the vibrations enough to make Peter jolt, but he maintained eye contact, growing a bit annoyed as all he wanted was to focus on chasing his orgasm. “I can’t hear you.”

Wade’s lips drew back, his tongue being the last to peel away from his cock, as he swallowed back the mixture of fluids that must have been gathering on his tongue. He looked rather flustered himself- from what Peter could see of his exposed nose and chin from under his mask. “I asked if you just showered.” He grinned, teeth flashing bright as ever into a crooked, but breathtaking, smile. “Whatever soap you use is really working for you. You smell just..” His nose pressed into the crook of his thigh, causing Peter to tremble from the tickling sensation. “Like dessert.”

Peter didn’t want to ask him to elaborate, knowing that whatever scent he thought he smelled was pheromones playing tricks on his brain, so he flopped back against the pillows instead. “That’s all you had to say?” He asked impatiently, toes burying into the cheap polyester sheets under him.

Wade’s laughter had Peter self consciously curling back into himself, but then his hands were tugging his thighs back open until he was in a vulnerable position, similar to earlier. “You’re wanting more?” He asked in a low, but teasing voice. Despite all his pride, Peter nodded weakly, throwing both arms back over his face to cover as much of it as he could without suffocating. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop playing. I’d rather hear you screaming my name, anyways.”

This time, when Wade took him back into his wet mouth, he didn’t give Peter any mercy or room to breathe.

Fingers dug hard into Peter’s hips, anchoring them down to the squeaking mattress, causing a frustrated huff to leave his lips. However, his complaints fell short when that wonderful pleasure blanketed his shaft again, warming his body from his toes to his chest. Wade’s throat opened to allow nearly every bob to force more of his dick to cram down into the tightness, not an inch left unattended to. Any rational thought floating in Peter’s head was obliterated, replaced by the image of red fire, of a tingling spreading through his fingertips and his feet, and the twisting of his stomach.

And by Wade, abusing his cock and forcing so much sensation onto Peter he thought he might cry.

It didn’t take long for Peter’s orgasm to build. He had already been on edge for days, and he didn’t doubt even a brush on his shoulder or a grab of his hip could have made him break down by now. But this was oh so much better than any feeling he could have jerked out with his hand. This was ecstasy, and he wasn’t just going to get off. He was going to cum, and he was going to cum hard.  

Peter’s arms found Wade’s head on instinct, his fingers gripping tightly at his temples. Wade noticed, his tongue putting in twice the effort and one hand raising to squeeze lightly on Peter’s aching balls. He mouthed Wade’s name, though no sound was able to escape his lungs, his voice strangled in his tight airway. His muscles clenched, his hands held harder onto his skull, and a second later his back slammed again into the mattress before bullets of hot cum shot down Wade’s throat. Peter squeezed his eyes shut so hard he could only see crimson, the other man’s mouth greedily sucking down his semen without so much a sound of disgust or displeasure.

Wade didn’t release his overly sensitive dick from his mouth until he was sure his quivers had stopped, and he took his sweet time doing so. When he finally released him, his grip disappearing from Peter’s hips, he realized how empty he felt, and his hands twitched with the need to reach out to Wade, to ask to be held by the alpha, but he suppressed every indecent desire and instead settled for opening his eyes.

Wade was redressed fully by the time he looked, and disappointment shot through Peter’s chest.

“Hopefully you feel better now, Spidey.” Wade hummed in clear amusement, adjusting his sleeves so they went back down to the joint of his wrists. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. If you need anything else, well, you know where I am. Feel free to crawl right in.”

Peter watched in silence, unable to fathom a proper reply or reaction now that his heat was finally withdrawing. Every step felt like a heavy weight on his chest, and he felt the need to say something, anything, even if it was to confess everything that he had been suffering through. He rationalized that was just the needy omega side of his brain, though, and some things were better left unsaid.

Peter tossed himself onto his side, his back facing towards the door, to try to get proper rest. The door squealed open behind him as Wade started to exit, and he swore he heard Wade pause in the doorway to take a breath.

But then the door shut lightly a second later and Peter was bathed in darkness. Alone, exhausted, and his mind struggling to make sense of everything that had just happened.

#omega peter parker #alpha wade wilson #spiderman #deadpool #omegaverse #marvel #my fic #abo #spideypool #mcu #peter is 20 #iron dad

[shinobicyrus]

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My Christmas Truce fic for @rainosa, who asked for “Danny & parents angst.” I angsted the best I could manage this close to Christmas.  

 “...You redecorated.”

Tucker turns around and furrows his brow at him. It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s the first thing Danny can think of as he stands in the doorway to Tucker’s room, the strap of his duffel digging into his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tucker looked around for confirmation. “Oh! Right, yeah. I moved some things around like...last semester? I think?”

Last semester? Has it really been that long since he visited Tuck at his house? New anime scrolls have replaced the last of the posters that had been around since middle school. The bookshelf has been moved to make space for a brand new desk, where Tuck’s computer is humming and idle. At least that was the same- unless Tucker’s been replacing its innards again.

No, except for the bed in the same old corner, Tuck’s room is practically unrecognizable. It’s been a lot longer than just one semester since Danny’s stepped foot in his best friend’s room, and he never even realized. 

Too busy with ghost-drama, probably. 

Tucker opens his arms to indicate the room, still littered with rumpled old clothes, comic books, and tech magazines. “Well, mi casa and whatever, I’m failing Spanish.”

“Tucker, you speak fluent Esperanto with Wulf. How are you failing Spanish?”

“Can never find time to finish the homework. It’s okay, I’ll just ace the final and squeak by.” He sweeps aside some t-shirts to excavate the carpeting  underneath. “Uh...you can put your stuff here. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting-”

“It’s fine.” Danny throws his duffel bag down on the cleared floor space and braces for the inevitable question. 

Instead, Tucker asks: “You want to watch a movie or fight off a demon-invasion on Mars?”

Danny releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Maybe just a movie. Scientists accidentally opening a portal to hell sounds a little too...”

“Relevant to our current situation?”

"Yeah. That.” Danny sits down on Tucker’s bed and winces when he feels something very not-cushiony or bedlike. He rummages underneath and pulls out a thick comicbook with a werewolf-looking woman in frayed clothes on the cover. Tucker practically dives across the room to snatch it out of Danny’s hands as he just starts flipping through it. 

“Ha-ha that’s not a movie what’s this where did it even come from what a mystery.” Tucker quickly banishes it to his bookshelf. 

Danny raises any eyebrow. “The Den of Empress She-Wolf?”

“I am invoking the ‘no-judgements’ clause of our friendship.”

“Wow, it must be really bad.”

Tucker scowls in a vain effort to hide the blush coloring his cheeks, making Danny laugh. It feels good, feeling the tension from the past few hours dissolve in a short fit of giggles.

Yeah, coming here had been a good idea.

He lets Tucker choose the movie, and they both sit down on the bed with their backs against the wall. At least the TV hadn’t been moved since the last time Danny had been over.

He doesn’t really pay attention to the movie. It’s difficult to focus on anything for too long. At some point, Tucker’s Mom knocks softly and shows up with a gigantic bowl of stovetop popcorn. Danny doesn’t know what cover story Tucker fed his parents, but it had to be close enough to the truth, judging by the concerned look she thinks she’s hiding.

“Thanks, Mrs. Angela.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. Just made a little too much, is all. You boys are settled in for the night?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tucker groans like he’s suffering. 

“Fine, fine, I won’t keep bothering you.” 

Danny’s phone pings in his pocket. Without even looking, he reaches in and silences it. He doesn’t need to see who it is- all of his friends have their own ringtone. 

Tucker looks at him, wearing the exact same look his mom just had. “Are you gonna check your-”

“Hit play, we’re in the middle of my favorite scene,” Danny says. It’s not a lie; Andrew Garfield really shines with classic Spider-Man sass against that carjacker.

Tucker looks like he wants to say something, but finally relents and starts the movie back up again. Danny releases another breath he’d been holding.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. The room’s dark when he jolts awake; still muddled, Danny briefly thinks just for a moment, that he’s home. 

Tucker is sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed near Danny’s feet, the light from his laptop screen painting deep shadows and harsh digital. The memory of where he is and why he’s there settles back into his headspace like a sharp slap of focus. Danny knuckles at the crust and dark circles around his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little past one.” Tucker keeps his gaze on the screen, keeping the manic tempo of clacking computer keys. Danny has no idea how that didn’t wake him. Maybe he’s gotten too good at grabbing whatever sleep he can, or his subconscious finds unmistakable Tucker-noises comforting.

Danny sits up and reaches out blindly for his phone, but this isn’t his room and Tucker keeps his nightstand on the other side, so he just ends up slapping his hand against the wall. Tucker wordlessly pulls Danny’s phone from someplace and hands it to him, somehow still typing one-handed. 

“Thanks.” He looks at the blanket pooled around him that wasn’t there before. “I took your bed,” He says it like an apology.

“S’okay. You looked like you needed it. That thing was buzzing up a storm, by the way.”

He’s right. The lockscreen says Danny has fifteen new messages. Sighing, Danny plugs in Sam’s birthday and checks them. Text messages from Jazz and Danielle, updating him and asking if he’s okay. No missed phone calls from his parents, thank God. 

The last call made on the phone was technically yesterday, when he called Tucker and asked if he could stay the night. Thirty seconds was all his voice could manage, at the time.

Even though Tucker had told him the time, it hadn’t registered until Danny’s looking at the clock on his phone and sees the missed notification he scheduled. Danny sits up straighter. “Patrol!” He blurts out. “I completely-”

“Already taken care of,” Tucker keeps coding. “Val and Sam are handling it.”

“Those two...together?”

He shrugged. “I dunno man, I think they had a secret meeting and hashed out their differences when we weren’t looking.”

Danny double-checked his messages, but there wasn’t anything from Sam or Val.

“So...uh.” Tucker clears his throat. “Jazz filled me in. While you were asleep. Actually, before you got here, too.” 

“She...did?”

“Yeah....her, Sam, and me kinda had this planned out for a while, now. For when it happened.”

“Oh.” He can’t quite look Tucker in the eyes. It’s...he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. He’s actually really touched, that they had his back when he didn’t ask for it- that they were ready for whatever happened and never told him so he wouldn’t feel any more pressure than he already was.

“You told them.” Tucker says it not like a question.

“Yeah.”

“And...now you’re staying here.”

“It...didn’t go well.” Danny finally drags his eyes up to Tuck’s. “How much did Jazz tell you?”

“Just that shit went down and Operation We-Never-Decided-On-A-Name was in effect. She didn’t think it was right to say anything more unless you were ready.”

He should have guessed Jazz wouldn’t just blab about everything. His big sister was a lot of things (see also: meddling, anal, way too cheery at seven a.m.) but she’s been surprisingly good with boundaries and keeping his secrets, after the first few hiccups. “Wanna know the funny thing? It wasn’t the half-ghost thing.”

“But...what else would it be?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it just about gave them a heart attack, but things didn’t get bad until I told them everything.”

Tucker’s eyes widen. “Everything, everything?”

Danny chuckles sadly. “Turns out, finding out your best friend from college is secretly a ghost-monster trying to kill you and/or destroy your marriage is one thing, but your own kids knowing about it and lying about it?”

“Ooohhh.” Tucker nods. “That.” 

“Yeah. That. And since things couldn’t possibly get any worse, I thought: ‘why not just rip off the filthy band-aid that is my life all at once and tell them about their clone-daughter, too?’”

Tucker winces. “Ooohhhh crap.” 

“And that’s when the yelling started.” Danny changes his voice in a poor imitation of his mother. “’She’s just a little girl, how could you let her run away on her own!’ I mean, yeah, I definitely deserved that- but she had Valerie looking after her, and it’s not like I could force Danielle to do anything she didn’t want to do! And with Vlad I tried to explain how I had it under control, like, we had a mutually assured secret identity thing going on- he stopped trying to actively murder Dad years ago. All our stuff was strictly foiling evil plots and him beating the crap out of me sometimes.”

“And the cloning.” Tucker adds.

“Okay yeah that too, which is sort of how Danielle got name-dropped by sorta accident in the first place, but then they had the gall to berate me for not trusting them!” It’s like being back in the living room all over again. Danny’s fist is balled so tight his nails are biting crescents into his palms, and in the dark he can tell his eyes started blazing green again, which probably hadn’t helped things with his ghost-hunter parents, much.

“Trust? I’m like, Trust?! How can ever really trust people that have tried to shoot me on sight, before? That have spent whole family meals talking about dissecting me ‘molecule by molecule.’ How can I trust people that build a goddamn portal to the netherworld in their basement and put their family and the whole freaking town in danger every. Single. Day?!”

They’d been appalled when he exploded on them, even Jazz  looked uncomfortable, even if it was all thing’s she’d been saying for years- if a bit gentler. Looking back on it- replaying the whole thing over again- made his heart pound with residual panic.

But Tucker? Tucker just nods and listens.

Danny has to swallow down the sudden dryness squeezing his throat. “I blamed them.” He manages, throat hoarse. “I blamed everything on them. I told them their stupid portal turned me into this, and I looked them in the eye and said I saw the first accident, the one that made Vlad, and I said that if they wanted to angry at anyone, they should look in a mirror first.”

“Ouch,” Tucker says. “Not exactly inaccurate, but ouch.”

“It was around then I decided staying there was probably a bad idea and packed a bag.”

“That’s...probably for the best.” Tucker nods. “Get some distance, clear your head.”

“You and Sam kind of came up too.”

“We did?”

Danny makes sound resembling a laugh. “They asked if you guys knew. I don’t think I laughed harder in my entire life.”

Tucker blinks at him, slowly processing what he’d said, then bursts into a shoulder shaking laugh. “Oh my God. They actually asked if we knew?”

Danny chortles. “I know, right! I was like, ‘how do you think I even survived this long without going crazy’?”

Tucker’s so far gone he’s slapping his eye and wheezing desperately. “You literally yell ‘I’m Going Ghost!’ in the hallways at school! Even if you didn’t tell us, we’d have figured it out in like, a week!”

“I know!”

“Jazz figured you out!”

“I knooow!” Danny keels over with laughter, tears streaming down his face. 

Tucker wipes a tear from his eye. “And-heheh- and I think Sam would have noticed that her boyfriend’s eyes freaking glowed whenever they- wait- did you tell them you and Sam are-”

“God no, are you kidding? What am I, nuts?”

That just ignites a whole new round of laughter- they’re probably too loud, Tucker’s parents are two rooms away and might be wondering what sounds like a pair of cackling lunatics coming from their son’s room. But Danny and Tucker surrender to it and fall together in a heap on the bed, still shaking with little leftover giggles.

They lay there quietly in the dark on the bed like they used to in grade school. Back then staying up into one-am was a huge deal, devouring junk food, playing video games, and watching gory age-inappropriate movies action movies.

Now they usually stayed up this late hunting ghosts and cramming what little homework they could manage before falling asleep in exhaustion. 

Danny suddenly feels very tired. 

“What are we supposed to do now, Tuck?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Stay here the rest of the weekend, eat unhealthy shit, and bingewatch bad anime from my hard drive?”

“God yes. You’re the best.”

“Hahah, hell yeah. Who’s best friend now?”

“Still Sam, but for completely different reasons.”

“No fair, I think I’ve proven I can totally pull off that same skirt.”

“I love you, Tuck, but that was so wrong.”

“Don’t shame me I got fifty bucks outta that deal and my legs looked great.”

Danny snorts back a laugh- and freezes when his phone buzzes.

Tucker waits a few moments for Danny’s head to stop pounding quite so fast before asking. “That Jazz again?”

“...no.” Danny’s shaking fingers fumble the password twice before he manages to bring up the single text message:

Mom [1:37am]: Never forget you’re my baby boy and I will always love you 

Tucker might be right about the best friend thing after all. He doesn’t say a word while Danny cries quietly on his bed. Just sits up, pulls the blanket over the both of them, and starts typing a comfortable rhythm on his laptop again.

#christmas truce 2017 #rainosa #danny phantom #tucker foley #merry christmas #hope you enjoy it #i did my best to angst #but about 50% of how *i* deal with personal crisisies is to ignore them and sleep until they go away #(spoiler: that usually doesn't work) #also sorry i guess my subconscious solution to angst is friend-bonding and laughing to make the hurt go away #i make a terrible #phantomrose96 #my writing #my fanfiction

[horrible-monstrosity]

end of omori: meh edition

an incoherent mess of unconnected themes and bullshit that I almost feel like people only think is good because ZA TWEEEZT is so absurdly extreme.

There was one additional layer of edje to ZA TWEEEZT that I didn't see coming but it's about what I expected, and it's really... shit. For some thing it's almost completely a plug-and-play sort of thing, where you could swap it out with almost anything fitting the general framework of "mari dead mori sad" and it wouldn't really change anything. There's the spooky hanging shadow monster but you could literally replace that with a picture of a penis and it wouldn't change anything. It's all just really generic spoogy shit. At the very least you could integrate the tweeezt into the dreamworl plotline more, to imply that it's always on Funny's mind even if he tries to forget- like, one plotline ends up with you dragging around a very corpse-like or bodybag-like object, or you comedy kill a dreamworl character and have to hide the body which is played for funny because dreamworl but which has unsettling implications... more substance than just random spoogger blobs happening sometimes and like also creepy hands for some reason.

I don't feel like mori/funny's phobia plotline ended up having anything to do with anything either besides being le generic fantasy rpg psych horror dude spiders lmao. I also really hate that scene with Hero and the spider that was all HA HA WACKY FUNNY!! but at the cost of him not getting over his fear and instead it actually getting worse... or so we're told. Really you could fix the entire scene by just having Kel say that Hero's getting better about it, which still gives you the joke of "this is better?? how bad was it??" but implies that no matter how bad it is, he's still making baby steps on it. Which ties into the whole theme of the thing. Oh, and Aubrey... she neever actually atones or gets called out on being a bitch. She just randomly decides to be nice and have perfect advice to give on moving on and shit. So she never actually has to be wrong; she's abrasive and then she's suddenly entirely correct.

I'm also really not liking the "heal the violing with your menories lmao" conclusion either. It really feels like just ignoring reality. "Just forgrive yourslef of your MI NS T A K ES" seems a bit fucking weak for what Funny did. Actually, I'd like to know how he fuck he got the idea to do that in the first place. Kid's fucked up to begin with. Also I can't help at laugh at how he dragged her corpse all the way up the stairs just to end up dragging it back down again anyway. What a waste of time and effort just put her on the couch man > actually forcing funny a crush on abbrey omocat you've failed me as a fujoshi fuck you you disgusting whore

ZA TWEEEZT really didn't need to be as much as it was. Funny accidentally killing sis by shoving her down the stairs would have been enough; or if you want to keep the sudoku plot have her hang herself after an argument with Funny so he thinks its his fault. Then like, he gets up at night, finds her hanging, goes back to sleep terrified, the parents find her next morning, think they've prevented Funny from seeing anything but he already saw it all, and it was made even more horrifying by the dark of night too. And maybe he thinks if he had gotten her help then she would have survived as well. There, lotsa guilt and trauma without some convoluted mess that raises endless more questions about whether he can actually be forgiven for it that just gets brshed over in the end. I might even steal that for something I also like how the so-important real-life skillz end up useless in the end against Brazil, that's real funny While I'm at it, whatever the fuck Brasil was gong through had nothing at all to do with Funny's shit because there was no actual supernatural way for their hallucinations to be connected so it's just kinda pointless final fight is just mori going "BLA BLA GENERIC AAANGST" at you and i don't give a fuck there's a fucking random fucking broken balcony with easy access at a fucking hospital because DUDE SUIICIDEE LMAOA ALSO HAVE YOU EVER PLAYHED YUGMNE LIKA NIEDBVGIKSDVG?/?? sigh you don't even have to win the final fight just lose and then press the "win game" button afterwards why even have an alternate ending for this

I- I don't know man, it just doesn't hit for me. Most of the game is pointless filler, the conclusion can't actually work because the story went too far in a few places, bla bla bla also just let the kid just fucking not play the cello if he doesn't want to ffs

[theperksofbeingyourmum]

The Four Times Spider-Man Wore His Mask and the One Time He Didn’t // Part 3/4

Part ONE / Part TWO / Part FOUR

Summary: After saving your life in a chance encounter, you start to see the Spider-Man everywhere. Fluff. Spider-Man x Reader fic. 

A/N: OKAY so I was NOT expecting the reaction I got for this mini-series and I am sooo happy you all liked it! So this is part three, one of my faves, and part four should be up later today I HOPE YOU LIKE IT???

Warnings: Light swearing

Less than a week later, and the Spider-Man was becoming more popular than ever. It was as if people waited until you were near to start discussing him. Or maybe everyone was just constantly discussing him. You had no idea. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

You looked for him everywhere, for some sign of the hilarious, dorky hero you’d come to idolise. You looked for him on top of buildings, in the sky, on every news segment and paper you could get your hands on.

But you were nothing if not proud, and you would not turn into one of those creepy fans who analysed and hypothesised and obsessed day in and day out, just waiting for another heroic act to fawn over. You just liked the guy.

He was kind. He was genuine. He was funny. He was cute. In a personality way, obviously. You’d never seen his face. You wondered if anyone ever had…

But no matter how much Spider-Man seemed to want to take over your every waking moment, your vow to improve your grades and chance at life was still ringing strong, and you were more determined than ever to make your life a life worth saving. That was why you were still up at 2am on a Thursday, finishing an extra-credit report, eyes burning from the light of the computer screen, when you heard it.

It’d been an uncharacteristically warm March day, so your window was open, and from the window came the sound of someone talking.

Obviously it was not unusual to hear the noises of New York at night from an open apartment window. From shouts on the ground below, to trucks, car horns, sirens, and even the occasional screaming match from the apartments either side, you were no stranger to a noisy night’s sleep.

But this talking wasn’t coming from an adjacent window, nor was it the voice of any of your neighbours. This voice was young. And male. And coming from… the roof?

Ever so carefully, you pulled the window further open and poked your head out into the cool night air. And there, right above your top-floor apartment, were a pair of red and blue legs, swinging precariously. And the person the legs belonged to was… on the phone.

“Yeah, Ned, I promise I will be there. No, I do not want to do that! Because…” the voice became muffled as he whispered his answer to Ned, whoever he was. You heard a chuckle and a “Yeah, right,” before deciding that, really, what did you have to lose?

“Hey,”

“Holy shit! Ned, I got to go.” He hangs up the phone and scrambles to his feet with some serious speed, body poised in fight-or-flight mode, clearly trying to work out if you’re a threat. You clamber out onto the fire escape with both hands above your head in surrender.

“Sorry, man! Didn’t mean to scare you, please don’t take off. It’s me… balcony girl?” He breathes a visible sigh of relief and makes an action as if to wipe his forehead (again, dorky). As his figure is moved into a beam of light you can see that his mask has been pushed up to his nose, leaving his mouth bare and way too human. It was disconcerting, all that time spent thinking about someone, but never imagining what they could actually be like underneath the alter-ego. He’s white, his chin is dimpled (also stubble-free), and his lips are thin but curved almost to the side. He sees you staring, and quickly pulls the mask down once more.

“Sorry for panicking, you scared the shit out of me. How much of that call did you hear?” he asks, seeming worried.

“Not a lot. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone anything I’ve heard or seen. You can trust me.” In a moment of bravery, you offer your hand, almost to the sky, for him to shake. A sign of trust.

He considers this for a moment and then seemingly deems you worthy, takes your hand and pulls you easily to the roof with him, one-handed. You feel the breath being knocked out of you just like the first time you met. Woah.

“Okay. I believe you, balcony girl. Even though now I could call you ‘roof-girl’.” The side of his mask raises slightly, the eerily human spider-eyes crinkle at the corners and you know he’s grinning. What a dork. This is surreal.

“What do you mean?” he says. Crap. You said the ‘surreal’ thing out loud.

“Well I mean… you’re Spider-Man. Like the Spider-Man, you know? The guy everyone is obsessed with, you’re like this insane superhero with cool powers but you’re here. And you’re talking to me? It’s like… being in a room with Captain America or something.”

“I was in a room with Cap once. Well, more of an airport, really.” He says this modestly, but this is clearly something he takes a lot of pride in.

“Are you serious?!”

“Uh huh. It was pretty awesome. I almost beat him, too.”

“So if I’m not allowed to tell everyone you have a friend called Ned, am I allowed to tell them that you got your ass handed to you by Captain America?”

He shakes his head, still grinning, “Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Hey I have a reputation to uphold in this city. I can’t have every bad guy knowing that all it took to defeat me was an eighty year old veteran with a big metal plate. I’d be a laughing stock.”

“I highly doubt that. People in this town practically worship you. You’re the Joan of Arc of Queens, everyone wants to know who The Spider-Man is.”

“Well that’s the price of fame, you know” his spider-smirk grew wider, “But if this city wants protecting, it’s gonna have to accept that Spider-Man is just that. Spider-Man.”

“So no one knows who’s under the mask?” You’re suddenly serious, almost whispering, but trying to hold onto the light-hearted conversation. He’s so easy to talk to, which is weird for someone you’ve never truly met. You don’t want to ruin this.

“Very few.” He replies, also serious. And then, “All Spider-Man stuff aside, why are you up so late?”

“Ha,” You suddenly felt shy, disconcerted thinking that he wants to talk about you. Why? You’re nothing special. “I was working on a paper for school.” You wanted to talk more about his life. His superhero life. Did he not see that it was the coolest thing, possibly ever? And you had the chance to ask all the questions that kids all over the world would die to ask. You were not going to waste it.

“What’s the paper on?” He seemed genuinely interested. You let out a laugh.

“Why? You seriously can’t tell me you’re interested in my lame high school crap? It’s a paper on To Kill a Mockingbird. Super interesting.”

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“The book. Do you like it?” He’s serious again. His voice is quiet, his dorky demeanour replaced with something more mature and careful. This isn’t Spider-Man, you realised, this is the person underneath.

“Uh, I guess? It’s hard to like something when you have to study it with thirty other teenagers, but I think it I’d read it on my own I probably would, yeah. Do you?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never read it. Wondering if maybe I should so that I could have more in common with pretty girls on the tops of buildings.” The smirk was back. Spider-Man returns.

“Very smooth, Spider-Dude. But are you this cool and collected when the mask comes off?” This flirting was weird. Technically this guy was a complete stranger. A stranger that saved your life. But it was fun. What did you have to lose?

“Uh absolutely. The great thing about wearing a mask is that you can be whoever you want to be. It just so happens that I, both masked and unmasked, am awesome.”

And so it continued. For hours, you joked back and forth. You flirted back and forth. By the time the darkness of the night gave way to the pale grey of almost-morning, you were certain that you would recognise his voice in the middle of a crowd, that you could pick up on his jokes from a mile away. Which was good because, really, that’s all you had to go on.

Every so often he’d almost let something slip. Something personal. Something real, but to no avail. He’d always catch himself, fake a cough, make a joke instead. He was good. But that’s not to say you didn’t learn anything. He was still a kid, and he really seemed to like you. So, the longer the night wore on, the more open he became. He deflected less and started to talk about his life. His superhero life, that is.

He mentioned how hard it can be, but how rewarding. He mentioned a few stories from his live-saving, the little kid who squared up to his bullies with Spider-Man’s help, the old lady who thought he was a mugger. And you couldn’t get enough. His life was something right out of a movie, or some nerdy comic-book, this wasn’t real.

At one point, when the sky above you had turned a pale pink, and there was a hint of sunrise just below the Manhattan skyline, you started to talk about his powers.

“How did you get like this?” you asked, ever so carefully. You were never sure if what you said might make him run, feel like you’d gotten too close. He didn’t run. Instead, he sighed.

“It’s a long story. Way too long for this time of night… Or should I say morning.” He picked up his phone, which had lain dormant on the ground next to you for the past four hours. “We should probably get going. Look, balcony-girl… I know what you’re trying to get at, asking about the mask. And I’m flattered, really.” He smirked, but only slightly, ”But… once people started noticing Spider-Man, realising what he could do, they felt threatened. All the petty criminals and scary monster guys out there, they didn’t like it. Which means that the person is under this mask is in just as much danger. And so are the people I love. Do you understand?”

Speechless, you nodded.

“Okay, good. Because honestly, this night has been crazy ridiculous, and you’re… amazing. Like so cool. And understanding, which is hard to find in a place like this – believe me. But this is all it can ever be for Spider-Man. Because if anyone else I love gets hurt…”

You are stunned. He’s speaking so quietly, so carefully. His head is bowed and you could swear you heard a faint catch in his voice, like he was holding back tears. You finally understood why he’s been holding back. If the bad guys knew who he was, who this kid was, they would do anything they could to stop him, and you could only imagine the ways they would try. You shuddered, suddenly cold in the fresh morning air, and watched from above as the city started to pick up speed.

“I understand.” It came out as a whisper. And it was true, you did. But that didn’t mean it was any less of a blow. As the night had worn on, you’d started to wonder and dream about what might happen next. Whether you might be the one to finally learn who the Spider-Man really is. The one who could help him, maybe even save him. But that’s all it was, a dream. You realise now why you could never know the Spider-Man like you want to know him, and now you’re wondering if it was too hard to hear.

Throughout all this silence, all these thoughts swirling around your head, one phrase remains: “If anyone else I love…” Love.

His voice cuts through your thoughts, snapping you back to the rooftop, “I have to go. And so should you. Thank you, though.” He stands up, offers his hand, “For the best night I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something because, did I mention I’ve met the Avengers?”

You laughed, both glad to have the carefree and cheeky Spider-Man back after everything you’d just heard, but also sad. Your night, your perfect night, was coming to an end. And everything he’d said just minutes before made you realise that there was every chance you’d never see him again. Honestly, you couldn’t imagine life going back to normal after this, but it had to.

“Thank you again, for the whole ‘saving my life’ thing. I guess I owe you my life now, which is pretty scary. But now you know where to find me. If you ever need someone to be your eyes and ears down here on the ground, or even someone to talk to at 6am, or whatever really, let me know.” For the thousandth time that night, you saw the corners of his mask crinkle, and you knew he was smiling.

“Thanks balcony girl. Honestly, people like you are the whole reason I do this thing. It’s nice to know it’s worth it.” With that, he wound his arm around your waist and, quick as a flash, dropped lightly down onto the fire escape below, letting you go so you could clamber back into your room. Into your normal life.

Just before you did, just before you opened the window and crawled back into the mundane, everyday worries and fears, like homework, school, and parents, you reached up to lightly kiss the side of Spider-Man’s mask, right where his cheek was. Right where it was under layers of technically enhanced fabric, there was someone you wanted to feel loved.

And once he was gone, swinging over the rooftops on the way back to his own extraordinary life, he did.

 ***PART FOUR UP LATER TODAY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IT???***

#spiderman #spider-man #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman homecoming #spider-man: homecoming fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man x reader #spiderman x reader #fluff #writing #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #fanfic #imagine #spider-man imagine #peter parker imagine #the amazing spider-man

[wbwest]

New Post has been published on WilliamBruceWest.com

New Post has been published on http://www.williambrucewest.com/2017/08/04/west-week-ever-pop-culture-review-8417/

West Week Ever: Pop Culture In Review - 8/4/17

In movie news, Sharknado 5: Global Swarming premieres this Sunday, and The Hollywood Reporter had a great article about the history of the franchise. For one thing, Donald Trump was originally approached to play the President in Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No!, but his people were stalling because he was mulling a run for the actual presidency. When the producers moved on to cast Mark Cuban, Trump got pissed and his people threatened to sue (on what grounds, nobody knows). Also, the production was renamed to Dark Skies because the name Sharknado was turning off potential actors. To the cast’s chagrin, however, it was changed back to Sharknado at release.

The main takeaway from the article is the pay situation. In the beginning, star Ian Ziering was offered $100,000 to do the first film. He reportedly only took it because his wife was pregnant and he needed to keep up his SAG membership for the health insurance. Over time, however, his pay ballooned and he currently makes about $500,000 a film – which, as folks point out, is more than the $300,000 Gal Gadot reportedly made to star in Wonder Woman. This really shouldn’t come as a surprise, though. For one thing, superhero films kinda pay on the low-ish side because there are so many moving parts. The pay tends to start low and then grows over time. By the third or fourth movie, the stars are, then, basically too expensive to keep, so it becomes renegotiation or reboot time. Plus, as I said on Twitter, washed up TV star in a “water cooler” franchise outranks unproven movie star in unstable cinematic universe. Yes, Wonder Woman was a great film, but to say that Gadot deserved more money is simply Monday morning quarterbacking. Nobody was worried about her pay before the film came out because, frankly, nobody gave a shit about her. She’ll eventually make her money, while Ziering will be begging for a Sharknado revival, as the series is clearly on its last legs based on the ratings. Sharknado is a funny thing because the social media impressions actually outnumber its ratings. So, folks feel the need to talk about Sharknado even if they’re not watching Sharknado.

The real crime about pay, though, is that Tara Reid only makes about $125,000 to Ziering’s $500,000 (his salary is about 1/6th the budget of Sharknado 5). When she spoke up about it, they created a poll to the public following Sharknado 3, asking whether or not her character should die. Lucky for her, the fans wanted her back (Production company Asylum claims the poll and her request were unrelated, but we aren’t stupid here).

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll watch even though the last installment was a chore to get through. The franchise really peaked at Sharknado 2: The Second One, but they generate buzz, so they keep coming. I’m still pissed about the last movie, where Ziering’s character, Finn, has a Black daughter-in-law who gets killed by a shark. Not only does the family not react, but she’s never mentioned again. It’s clearly the result of some terrible editing, but I can’t tell if they edited out reactions to her death OR if they edited in the character after the movie was basically done. I figure we’ll get to 6 and then they’ll have to think of something else. It’s too bad the Lavalantula franchise hasn’t enjoyed the same buzz, as I enjoy those pseudo Police Academy reunions.

In TV news, a LOT of folks are upset about that Confederate show that I mentioned last week, even calling for a boycott of HBO. Some folks have reminded the boycotters that their actions would hurt other Black shows on the network, like Insecure and Ballers. Instead, they encouraged that folks make their voices heard directly to HBO, using the hashtag #NoConfederate during its most watched hour last week, Game of Thrones. Well, in seeming retaliation for the show, producer Will Packer and The Boondocks creator Aaron McGruder are creating Black America for Amazon. Whereas Confederate would follow a United States on the brink of its 3rd Civil War, Black America would follow an alternate reality where freed Blacks were given Alabama, Louisiana, and Mississippi as reparations, and the sovereign nation of New Colonia is formed. Meanwhile, its neighbor to the north, The United States, is in a bad state of affairs.  New Colonia is about to become a world power, while the US is slipping. Due to their proximity, their fates are tied together, but clearly the Black folks are doing better than everyone else.

Is it wrong that I have no interest in either show? I mean, I have no desire to see slavery still going in Confederate, but the whole premise of Black America just sounds like it’s doing too much, and feels more reactionary than anything. I mean, why didn’t we hear about this project before Confederate was announced? And the problem is that both projects are so far in their infancy that they won’t be happening any time soon, if they happen at all. I know the announcement appeased a lot of the anti-Confederate crowd, but neither sounds like a “good” show from what we’ve heard, and I almost feel like they take us away from having the race dialogue that a lot of folks feel we so sorely need as a country. What are y’all’s thoughts on these shows?

In other TV news, it was announced that ABC’s The Middle would be ending after its upcoming 9th season. This elicited to a lot of responses of “That show’s still on?”, and I immediately understood why Trump won. As the title suggests, the show focused on a middle class family, in the middle of the country, as they struggle to make it through. Over the past 8 years, they have been emblematic of the types of voters who feel their voices aren’t being heard as their situations get tighter. That’s the show’s audience, even though they’re not the glamorous demographic that Madison Avenue covets. I actually really enjoy the exploits of the Heck family, but I understand that the show’s not “hip” or “cool”, so it flew under a lot of folks’ radar. The upcoming Roseanne revival has been described as focusing on the Conners as they try to make their way in Trump’s America, but I’d argue that The Middle did it first, and will probably be looked upon as the most accurate depiction when the dust settles.

Across the dial, it was finally confirmed that Erinn Hayes’s character on CBS’s Kevin Can Wait will, in fact, be killed off. The show will pick up after some time has passed, paving the way for Kevin James to reunite with his The King of Queens costar Leah Remini. I understand shows sometimes need a retool, but all evidence was pointing to the show as a moderate success. The only sticking point was Remini guested in the season finale, and suddenly everyone wanted that chemistry back. To me, I’m good. I still have 8 seasons of The King of Queens to look back on (I don’t count that last season because it felt like they hated each other by that point, surprising me that they’d reunite. To me, this is almost like Martin Lawrence and Tisha Campbell doing a new show together). Hayes will bounce back, as she’s already been cast in Amazon’s The Dangerous Book for Boys, but I still don’t feel like the show did her right.

In comics news, it was revealed that the Milestone comic line’s reboot has been stalled because the creators behind it were trying to cut out the estate of co-creator Dwayne McDuffie. If you’re not familiar, the Milestone line was comprised of a bunch of minority-focused superhero books from the early 90s. There was Hardware (Black Iron Man), Rocket (Black Captain Marvel?), Blood Syndicate (Black…I dunno. I didn’t read that one). Oh, and Static (Black Lightning Jr, basically). The original creators were Dwayne McDuffie, Denys Cowan, Derek T. Dingle, and Michael Davis (if we ever meet, ask me my Michael Davis stories. Dude is crazy, but I ain’t putting that stuff in writing for him to find it).

A few years back, they announced a revival of the Milestone brand, but Davis had been cut out and replaced by former BET head Reginald Hudlin. They kept saying an announcement was forthcoming, while Davis took to the internet saying it’ll never happen. He was hurt he’d been left out of something he’d had a hand in creating, but he also knew there were roadblocks that the group wouldn’t be able to get over.

Well, this week, McDuffie’s widow sued the group because his estate had been left out of recent negotiations, as Cowan, Dingle, and Hudlin were going to create a new entity to cut out McDuffie’s stake. There’s a lot of potential in the franchise, with recent cries for representation in fantasy media, but I’d like to go on record and say that those books just weren’t very good. They were just Black characters the same quality of the Image output of the time. I used to read Hardware and that book, ugh…Maybe they’ve got some fresh new takes on the characters, but I don’t think they’re even interested in comics at this point. They just want to control the intellectual property. Anyway, for all McDuffie did in the comic industry, it seems like he was constantly screwed over, even in death. I hope his estate is at least getting some money for the use of Damage Control (which he created) in Spider-Man: Homecoming, but I know it was work-for-hire blah blah blah. Anyway, here’s hoping Mrs. McDuffie gets what she’s owed.

Things You Might Have Missed This Week

Divergent franchise sequel, Ascendant, is now being developed as an ongoing TV series for Starz

The Black-ish spinoff, college-ish will now known as grown-ish

Vin Diesel is reportedly working on a Miami Vice reboot on NBC for the 2018-2019 season. I really hope they set it in the 80s. Otherwise, it’s just gonna be nothing but Pitbull and Flo Rida cameos…

The Will & Grace revival has already been renewed, despite the fact it hasn’t aired yet. It was also revealed that it will ignore the series finale, just like Roseanne…

Late 90s MTV staple, Total Request Live (TRL) will return in October, with FIVE hosts. I guess they’re trying to bring back that VJ position again.

Speaking of MTV, hot on the heels of removing gendered categories, MTV has changed the coveted Video Music Award from the Moon Man to the Moon Person. It will be able to use any space bathroom that it chooses.

Soap actor Hartley Sawyer will recur as The Elongated Man this season on The Flash

Speaking of the Arrowverse, the next 4-show crossover will take place over two nights this season, November 27th and 28th

Apparently hot ass Scientologist Catherine Bell from JAG has been on a show on Hallmark Channel called Good Witch for the past three years. Who knew? Anyway, it’s been renewed for a fourth season

Aussie actress Teagan Croft cast as Raven in the Titans series

Amazon is adding Carsey-Werner shows such as Roseanne, 3rd Rock from the Sun, A Different World, Cybill, Grace Under Fire, and Grounded for Life to its streaming library

Pacific Rim: Uprising‘s release has been moved from Feb 23 to March 23

Hasbro has called off talks to buy Lionsgate. In other news, apparently Hasbro was trying to buy Lionsgate.

Agent Carter‘s Hayley Atwell will reportedly join Ewan McGregor in Disney’s Christopher Robin 

Formerly a staple of Baltimore Comic Con, the Harvey Awards will move to New York Comic Con in 2018

They’ll be calling it Hawaii Five-WHOA, as Joey Lawrence is slated to guest star on the CBS series this season

Because he’s never turned down a job, Nick Cannon will host Lip Sync Battle Shorties, a kid-centered spinoff of Lip Sync Battle to air on Nickelodeon

During the 2017 Teen Choice Awards, Fox will experiment with 6-second commercials. This is how that subliminal programming shit starts!

Remembering where he came from, Kenan Thompson (who’s also now the longest-standing SNL cast member) is reportedly developing a live action sketch show for kids.

Transformers spinoff, Bumblebee, will open against Aquaman on December 21st, 2018

Blumhouse Television is bringing horror reality show Scare Tactics back to TV

Due to how he perceives Starz doesn’t appreciate his show, 50 Cent has threatened to snatch Power off the network.

Pokemon: I Choose You will get a two-night theatrical run in November. I’m not telling you the dates because the movie is a retelling of Ash & Pikachu’s meeting, yet it removes Brock and Misty from the story. Fuck this movie!

So, there was some crazy stuff in the comic industry this week, as a picture of of some women Marvel editors brought out the crazies. It all started with this pic:

Marvel editor Heather Antos and some other female editors got together for milkshakes, and based on the hashtag, it was to honor recently deceased former Marvel secretary “Fabulous Flo” Steinberg. A seemingly innocent thing, right? Well, here was the reaction on social media:

Wow, right? From dudes making inappropriate sexual remarks to folks blaming this on Social Justice Warriors, a certain corner of the internet lost its mind over some damn milkshakes.

But then came the backlash to the backlash. Fans and creators started posting pics in solidarity with the ladies.

The support even came from the “Distinguished Competition”, as they tweeted the following pic:

What started out as a snake bed for trolls turned into a show of solidarity that not only shed light on what women editors face on a daily basis, but also seemed to strengthen some relationships “across the aisle”. I mean, this is the best Marvel/DC crossover since Amalgam! As I said on Twitter, when history classes look back on this period in time, they will see that it was not blockbuster events but milkshakes that saved the comic industry. That’s why female comic editors had the West Week Ever.

  By the way, I’m apparently 16 years old because I just signed up for Sarahah. So, swing by and leave me some anonymous comments. Oh, and please don’t make me cry!

#80s #Comics #DC #Image #Marvel #Movies #Music #Pop #Race #Social Media #Television #West Week Ever

[not-close-to-straight]

Bad Ideas (Chapter Three)

If you need to catch up, Check out the completed MASTERLIST

**********************************************************

The days started blurring together as spring fell into summer and business picked up. Road trippers, tourists, summer residents all flocked to the town just fifteen minutes away from the shop, and they started working longer days to keep up with the tows, and flat tires and oil changes.

Thanks to a few quick lessons and a healthy dose of his own common sense and brilliant mind, Peter became fairly useful around the shop. He spent more and more time working next to Wade instead of closing himself up in the office all day, and more nights than not now he crossed the drive to Wade's house and had dinner and a drink. Every once in awhile Wade asked if he wanted to talk, and Peter always said no. He didn't want to bring Wade into the mess that was his past. Didn't want to burden a man who already had secrets, with even more.

And he knew Wade had secrets. Even without those scars that spoke of something terrible, one look at the way Wade never completely relaxed, the way he was constantly watching everything, the way his eyes always looked haunted, told Peter that the mechanic had seen much more than he let on. It made Peter feel closer to him, like they had bonded over awful pasts, even if they never talked about it.

And this was easily the most at peace Peter had felt since… well since he had been bitten by that stupid spider, really. He had found a home here with Wade, far away from New York, far away from the daily reminders of his failures, far away from the pretty headstone that marked Gwen’s grave. He had burned his suit, packed a bag and hopped on a bus, and for whatever reason landed in Wade’s life and it was...so good.

Peter hadn't ever been around an Alpha that was so completely Alpha like Wade was. Even if the man had been a beta he would have been the alpha male in any situation. For the first time in his life, Peter was drawn to an Alpha, feeling his omega stir and stretch every time Wade smiled at him. He didn't even notice the scars anymore, just wanted to brush his fingers over all of them, wanted to be close enough to scent the Alpha, wanted to press himself against that big body and made to feel safe in a way that only an Alpha could do.

But Wade wasn't interested, so Peter tried to downplay it, tried not to let his rushing thoughts and growing interest affect their working together and their calm life. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this, to ruin whatever this friendship, flirty, thing was they had going on.

He didn't want to lose that.

But tonight--tonight was different.

Tonight the nightmares had been worse than usual and Peter had woken up crying out, soaked with sweat, and reaching out for ...nobody, because he was alone.

Pulling a pair of sweatpants over his boxers, he stumbled to his little kitchen searching for something to drink, only to realize he didn't even have water in his damn fridge.

Fuck. Fuck this. Wade. Want to be with Wade. Need to be with Alpha.

His needy omega overrode his common sense and without even really thinking about it, barely remembering to stop and grab a shirt, he headed down the stairs and across the lot to Wade's house. The door was unlocked and Peter slipped in as quietly as he could, opening the fridge for a bottle of water, then slumped into chair and rested his head on the cool table.

Just being in the same house as the Alpha had an instant calming effect on him, and Peter tried his damndest not to whimper as he finally started coming down from his nightmare. They were never this bad anymore, not since he'd moved in above the shop at least. But this time it been all screams and broken glass. All that perfect beautiful blond hair soaked with blood. That heart breaking look on her lovely face when she realized Peter couldn't catch her in time.

He did whimper then, his shoulders shaking as he tried to muffle it, tried to stay quiet. More than anything he wanted to run up the stairs and crawl in bed with Wade, but there was no way in hell that was happening. Not only would the Alpha probably drop kick him out the door, but weak, needy, omega had never described Peter, and it wasn't about to now.

But then… thank god...then Wade came downstairs to him.

His senses picked up on the Alpha a full two minutes before the man said anything at all. Peter had heard him come down the stairs, knew he was just standing there watching. Spidey sense and all that, with the added bonus of his omega being hot wired to the alphas presence meant that Peter was aware of every breath Wade took, every time his dark eyes traced over his body, every time the man crossed and uncrossed his arm trying to make up his mind about whether or not to speak.

So, Peter didn't say anything, barely even breathed, until Wade shifted against the door jam and sighed loudly.

“Do you want to talk about it? You're just about reeking of hurt and sad and… just talk about it, alright?” Wade folded his arms and waited, fighting every instinct that told him to go hold the kid. “Come on Petey. Spill it so we can both go back to bed. My Alphas not gonna let me sleep until you're ok, so just… out with it.”

“Yeah. Out with it. Alright.” Peter took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to begin. “There was an accident. Um. A few years back? Her name was Gwen. And she… she was my whole world. Um, she was beautiful and perfect and blond and funny, and I...I killed her.”

He waited for Wade to yell something, for the comfort that the Alpha was projecting to change to disgust, but nothing happened. If anything, Wade leaned in a little more, rumbled something undecipherable and Peter relaxed a little bit.

The words came faster now, tumbling out of him now that it felt safe to talk. “It was an accident, I know it was, but it was still my fault. I just couldn't save her. She used to--used to talk me out of fighting in school, and we were like, smart as hell together, and taking pictures of her was my favorite thing to do, and all she wanted to do was go to Oxford to study, and I didn't want her to go. I didn't want her to leave me.” The story was pouring out now, and Wade could hardly breathe through the pain washing over the omega.

“I didn't want her to leave me, Wade. Everybody always leaves me and I couldn't handle her leaving me too. I couldn't. But then-- But then it was too late, and then she was gone and now I wish more than anything she was at Oxford without me because good Christ at least then she'd still be alive. And breathing. And still so beautiful.” He dragged in a shaky sigh. “Wade, she was so beautiful. That fucking smile. She had perfect hair. You like my hair, but her hair was worthy of angels. And the laugh. The cutest laugh, and made me laugh so hard, and all I did was make her cry so many times before the end. So many times. I always made her cry.”

“But it wasn't your fault if it was an accident.” Wade stated, and Peter shook his head, his forehead rubbing against the table.

“But she shouldn't even have been with me. Should have been at university charming the hell out of some English boy, eating crumpets and tea or something. But she was with me. I couldn't save her, man. I tried. And I just couldn't. Not even with--” even with all my strength and speed and powers and reflexes-- “I couldn't go on after that. I tried to keep going to school and working and--and everything else? I tried so hard, but I just kept staring at her grave every time I drove past, and I just kept dreaming about her and thinking I saw her on the street, or walking through a store, and finally I-- I couldn't take it anymore.”

“So you picked up and left.”

“So I picked up and left.” Peter repeated dully. Of course that wasn't the whole story but it's not like he could tell Wade about his powers, about the insane monster that had replaced Harry, about the fall, and the web that didn't make it and that horrifying, nightmare inducing snap that took Gwen from him. No he couldn't tell Wade about any of that.

“Is she who you dream about?”

“She's who I dreamed about tonight. Who I dream about most nights.” Peter told him quietly. “Most of the time.” And Wade knew that meant that there was so many other things keeping the kid up at night. Way too many things.

Wade watched Peter tried to keep himself together, watched his shoulders shake with each breath, watched his hand clench and unclench around the plastic water bottle. So much hurt, sad, save me Alpha, came from the boy, and it was actually physically painful for Wade to not go to him, it actually hurt to just stand there and see the kid fall to pieces in front of him.

So he didn't just stand there. It was a really bad idea, but Wade was a step past caring because he just couldn't help himself anymore.

“God dammit Peter.” He sighed. “Dammit. I shouldn't do this, but I can't handle all this emotion, all this crap coming from you. This is an awful idea. One of my worst.” He ran a hand over his head and groaned. “Shit shit shit, okay I have to hold you right now, and probably all night so can you walk or should I carry you? You know what, I'm just gonna carry you because that's easiest. Okay? Just gonna put my arms around you and hold you all night because you freaking out is freaking me out, so come on.”

Before Peter had a chance to react or even ask what the hell Wade thought he was doing, the Alpha had scooped him up in his arms and cradled him close to his chest.

Wade didn't stop talking as he made his way back up the stairs heading towards his bedroom, keeping him as close as possible, pressing one big hand to the back of Peter's head, until the boy nuzzled into his neck and took a deep breath. “Yeah, there you go. It's alright, Petey just put your nose in my neck, just like that. Just scent me a little, it will calm you down. I'm gonna hold you all night okay? Can't handle you feeling like this, making my Alpha crazy, so sad, such a sad omega I can't handle this at all. Come on we’re just gonna lay down. Watch your head honey, on the door? Okay here we go. Alright now, come on.”

He lay Peter down carefully, calming him with soft words and soothing strokes down his legs, and pulled the sweatpants off, leaving him in just boxers and a t shirt.

“Isn't that better? So much better, need you to be comfortable right? We’re just gonna lay here.” Wade lay on the bed next to him, and Peter made a noise close to a whine and curled close to him. “I got you honey, you're fine. Just come here and take what you need from me. We can figure this out. Just get close to me, you just need an Alpha to comfort you? it's fine. We're fine. It's all good baby. Get over here with your lanky ass. Is that better? That's better.”

He just talked quiet, comforting, nonsense until Peter had settled against him, long legs wrapped through his own and his head settled over Wade's heart. He still seemed tense though, so Wade slipped his hand up and under the t shirt so he could press firmly against the small of Peter's back.

It was like flipping a switch, the skin to skin contact, and the Omega melted into him, his breathing slowing almost instantly as he fell back into an exhausted sleep.

Wade managed to relax just a little, just enough to make sure Peter was comfortable against him. Now that the omega was sleeping, Wade's Alpha receded, settling back so he could breathe normally.

He wasn't one for soft words and pretty speeches, but comforting the omega had come so naturally, for once he hadn't felt awkward around the beautiful boy. For once Wade had given in to that often completely overwhelming urge to hold him, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief that Peter hadn't rejected him right off the bat. He knew he wasn't easy to touch, not with all the scars and dry skin, but Peter had plastered himself up against Wade's body without hesitation, had lay his head in his neck without flinching, and it was the most Wade had been touched in years, and he both loved and hated how much it affected him.

So yeah, Peter might freak out in the morning, but for right now, he was lying trusting and calm in the Alphas arms and Wade held the omega close all night, because he needed this too.

In fact, he might need it more.

*************************

Peter came back to himself slowly, sluggishly, wondering why he was so warm, so content, feeling so heavy and unwilling to wake up.

The many years as Spider-Man and being used to snapping awake at the smallest noise seemed to disappear as he struggled to even open his eyes. Everything was still dark, and warm and comfortable, so Peter just snuggled back down, digging his fingers into the pillow under him and ----

--------and freezing when he realized the pillow was a chest, rising and falling beneath him as the other man breathed.

It took every scrap of his self control not to lash out, not to jump away and stick himself to the ceiling, all of his restraint to force himself to just wait a moment and assess the situation.

“Back to sleep, omega.” Wade's husky morning voice rumbled from the body below him, and a hand Peter just now noticed was rubbing small circles low on his back slipped a little higher to push Peter back down on top of him. “Still early. It's a Sunday. Back to sleep.” The deep voice trailed off as Wade slipped back under and Peter tried to tell his muscles to unlock so he could try to sleep again too.

But he was… straddling Wade, legs on either side of his waist, his hands flexing and curling into the thin t shirt Wade wore. One big hand was settled on Peter's slim hip, the other still pushing gently, coaxing Peter down against him again. They were close, and Peter knew it wouldn't take much for his body to realize how close they were and then things would be awkward. This was a bad idea.

“Why am I- why did you let me--” he started to ask, but in an entirely Alpha move, Wade just growled his displeasure at being woken up, so Peter shut up, gingerly laying his head back down and trying to stay still, his mind racing as he went over what had happened the night before.

“Sleep, omega.” Wade insisted, his voice still overly growly from sleep and his Alpha lurking so close to the surface. “I still need to hold you, so just hang tight until I'm ready to let you go. If you didn't want a clingy protective Alpha you shouldn't have showed up here last night all upset and shit. You're just going to have to wait until I'm ready to let you go.” He was trying to sound annoyed, but his grip on Peter never loosened, and his eyes were shading red at the idea of the omega leaving before he was ready, so Peter just  blew out a deep breath and forced himself to stretch out again, his face tucked into the crook of Wade's neck. It felt so good, and he relaxed all the way, laying their bodies together and sighing contentedly.

“Better.” the Alpha crooned. “Sweet sleepy omega, just lie here with me. Let me hold you, take care of you.”

Peter tried not to smile at the over the top Alpha behavior, because it was so different from how Wade usually was, but it was hard not to be pleased. Hard not be flattered. Hard not to be thrilled that the Alpha was finally reacting to whatever was happening between them.

So he let himself smile, and closed his eyes.

**********************

“You good?”

The next time Peter lifted his head, Wade was wide awake, dark eyes watching him closely. “You alright, Pete?” He had lost the growly tone, and his grip on Peter was decidedly looser this time around.

“Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. You okay? You ready to--?” Peter didn't try to move, waiting for the Alphas permission before pulling away, not wanting to risk irritating the man by trying to leave too quickly.  

“Yeah I'm good now. You can leave, go ahead.” Wade slid his hand out from under Peter's shirt, freeing him, but raised an eyebrow when Peter started to slide backwards. “Maybe don't move that way though. Off the side. Yeah, that's better.”

Heat, and awareness and oh shit ratcheted through Peter as he realized why Wade had warned him against that particular movement and he didn't quite meet the alphas gaze as he carefully stepped over him and off the bed, running his hands down thighs that were sore from straddling the man all night.

“Go on then.” Wade jerked his head towards the door and Peter nodded, then sent him a hesitant smile and left quickly.

As soon as the door closed behind Peter, Wade was scrambling for his bottle of lotion, shoving his pajamas down to his knees and stroking over himself frantically.

Fucking omega disturbing my whole life. So pretty so pretty he's too much can't fucking help wanting to hold him such a good omega lovely omega want that boy so---

When he was done, Wade threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

This was such a bad idea. Such a fucking bad idea.

#spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson #spider man #deadpool #abo dynamics #alpha wade #omega peter