#cause that means: this in better quality is forever lost

[joghurt-und-glas]

#JustCoupleThings

#ich kann nicht glauben dass die das nur im tv gezeigt haben #cause that means: this in better quality is forever lost #joko und klaas #klako #joko winterscheidt #klaas heufer umlauf #jokla #jkvsp7 #Video credit: @Content_Corinna on Twitter

[twotangledsisters]

How are your 2024 art goals going? Or is it too early to ask?

It's not too early! Though it may be too late... because I can't remember WHAT my goals were...

I remember answering an ask not long ago about my art plans for 2024 but all I remember from my answer was 'more animatics'. I did search for the ask but I can't find it, so I'm sorry I can't offer the BEST answer...

But the short answer is... YES. With no clue what my goals were, I'm very happy with how my art is going this year!

Like... we're not even a month and a half in and already my top four drawings of the year are really beautiful:

(organized from least to most fave)

And I have some promising sketches too (if I ever complete them):

Like my art just feels GOOD this year.

I feel like for the first time in a long time, I know how to draw. Do I know how to make my art eye-catching? How to do good composition? Colour? Not as well as I'd like... but I CAN DRAW. And that feels like the base I need to move forward!

When I do the lineart and it looks good, I no longer wonder how I did that cause I've done it enough times, I can just accept, I know how to draw! (Does this whole ramble make any sense???)

Point is, I am happy with the quality of my art so far this year.

I still have a way to go, I'm still touching up on anatomy, still figuring out how to get colour right without toooo much back and forth. Backgrounds.... I hate backgrounds.

But I am getting better and that's amazing.

Plus, I'm finally, slowly, posting art on Instagram rather than tumblr. Way behind, still uploading old pieces, but I think that's going to be a huge step in the right direction for my art because I get to have this page that is just art, which means, when I upload something and it gets zero likes, it doesn't feel like it's now lost forever, it isn't a failure? Rather it's on my page, it's in this sorta public portfolio of my work. It just feels right in a way tumblr never did.

I hope that answers the question... if you want to know specific things like... Have I done any animatics? (I have not) then please ask because I can't find the original post of my goals XD

I'm so sorry for my lack of organisation, but yeah. I'm very happy with my art right now. And thank you so much for the interest!

#ask answered #art 2024

[mlobsters]

supernatural s11e14 the vessel (w. robert berens)

don't judge, nic. (generally historical fiction is not my jam. the sigh i sighed when the title screen with nazi-occupied france came up... also why i immediately get tired over old timey men of letters stuff)

hold the phone, i know that music intro! it's non, je ne regrette rien by edith piaf - which was used to wonderful effect in inception. spent far, far too long trying to find a clip of it, everything is garbage quality and it's not streaming anywhere i can get it easily

well, i am definitely on board with stabbing nazis, with impunity. (and gee, men of letters related, color me surprised :p)

haha ok but wait

SAM 'Cause I found something. I mean, we need something. Magic. A weapon strong enough to give us a shot against Amara. So, I've been looking outside the lore in history. And I found this, the Vichy Memorandems. They were Nazi communications that puzzle historians to this day. And they speak of a super weapon obtained by the Ahnenerbe, said to be strong enough to win the war.

reminds me of the magicians rhinemann ultra

the magicians s2e2 hotel spa potions

I mean, it was amazing reading about how you used the Rhinemann at Gettysburg to help win the war for the Union. And it was you who slipped it to Rupert Chatwin for the Battle of the Bulge. I mean, you changed history.

the magicians s2e3 divine elimination

The spell that won World War II is called the Rhinemann Ultra? Sounds like a not-so-great beer.

and someone had to power-up with god .... juice (semen) to be able to cast it. anyway. god this is going to take forever.

SAM Well, these memos refer to it as "The Hand of God." I mean, that was sort of a catch all term for several objects he touched on Earth in Biblical times. But they're believed to contain traces of His power. DEAN Yeah, well the Nazis believed a lot of things. SAM Dean, Lucifer's caged. God's MIA, the only beings strong enough to battle Amara are gone. If we're gonna fight her, what better way to arm up than with an actual dose of His power?

just sayin. familiar!

so dean i got a pro-tip here for you. have more than one source of caffeine on-hand at all times. that way even if you're out of power or machine breaks or no grounds or whatever, you can have coffee. personal fan of starbucks doubleshot cans. and it reminded me of the self-heating coffee cans in the neuromancer universe way back when they first came out and i've been drinking them for my first coffee of the day since :p (william gibson writes about coffee a lot.)

answers the incapacitated crowley question i had

distressing. i generally like crowley, even if i don't like what he's getting up to. and having him in this forced pet play torture thing is pushing some really upsetting and unpleasant buttons for me. at least they let us know he's still in there fighting i guess sooner rather than later

DEAN Just in case things go sideways, somebody needs to be left standing to take care of the Darkness. We can't risk us both! And at the moment, I'm the least valuable player! You both know that I can't kill Amara, so the least I could do is get the thing that we need so that you can! SAM So you expect me to sit here and ride pine while you can Cas go play Jules Verne? DEAN Yes! No. I - who?

so he just used a 20,000 leagues under the sea reference but doesn't know who jules verne is? sure, jan. anyway. sure, yes, get dean and lucifer!cas alone on a sub together, sounds great. handwave away sam's confusion about logistics of time travel without wings

SAM (Resigned) Be safe. DEAN When am I not?

ha ha.

oh, sam, i feel you.

LUCIFER Right. We'll double down on what screwed us the first time. You're really bringing your A ideas today. I can't believe I lost it. (sighs) Him. Can't believe I lost Dean.

and now dean is alone there, great. trying to figure out what submarine movie this is reminding me of but all i can figure i've seen enough is the hunt for red october (which is cold war) mashed with some vague memory of enigma machine on a sub thing - maybe from cryptonomicon? (book by neal stephenson which was kind of a mashup of current and historical fiction)

jackles is doing a good job with this and the production quality is nice but i'm emotionally detached and just want it to be over with. lucifer isn't even half assing his castiel cosplay but i guess sam is too distracted with imminent death for dean if they don't fix the problem

SAM Wait a second. I remember Bobby told me when you needed strength to retrieve us from the past, you used him to power up, you touched his soul, right?

LUCIFER That's right, I did that. But that procedure can be fatal. SAM Use my soul. That way maybe you'll have enough power to wield the spell. LUCIFER That isn't necessary. SAM It's worth the risk. Cas, Dean needs our help. I trust you.

ugh. the unknowingly begging for torture from the thing that tortured you for (an unknown but presumably) very long time, yeah. turns my stomach. is this over yet. at least the cat is out of the bag right after.

DEAN So. Cas. SAM Yeah. What do we do? DEAN What else? We hunt Lucifer, trap the bastard, and save Cas. SAM Like I said. Lucifer may be in control now, but Cas may not come back willingly. I mean he chose it. DEAN No. No, not possible.

guess we're not mad about him saying yes to lucifer? all righty.

getting in a lingering beauty shot

and closing with non, je ne regrette rien again

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 11x14 #robert berens #non je ne regrette rien #music #tm spn thoughts #is my tag for the magicians spn parallels or whatever #the magicians #very vaguely

[liarian]

What does it mean to be dangerous?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

"What did he come here for?" Arataka frowned, still following Hanazawa's figure walking away down the hallway. "Is he still insisting on his stupid show?"

"My brother asked him to come." Kageyama-san shrugged and kept filing the invoices that were beginning to pile up on his desk. "You still don't like him at all, huh?"

"He's just a show-off who thinks he's better than everyone else because he's on TV."

"He's not that bad," Kageyama-san shrugged. "When you bother to get to know him, he's got a good heart."

"If you say so," Arataka muttered through his teeth.

Hanazawa's qualities had to be deep down because Arataka had never been able to see them. All he knew was that every time he showed up there, Kageyama-san ended up in misery.

"And couldn't your brother come directly? Someday it would be nice to meet him." Arataka grunted. " Apparently, you've already met Serizawa."

"You're talking to each other again, then?" Kageyama-san put down the papers on the desk table and walked over to him, messing up his hair. "I'm glad."

"Let go of me, it takes forever to get it back under control!" Arataka shrugged, hands on his head, trying to shield himself from Kageyama-san. "You could have told me something about Serizawa. Did you two have a good time at my expense?"

"If I had told you anything, the same day you would have broken down the door of his house demanding that he explain himself."

"And?" Arataka folded his arms. "What would have been wrong with it, five months! He could have been lying in a ditch and I wouldn't even have known about it! Didn't I at least deserve to be told that he was fine?"

"People deserve their privacy and Serizawa had his reasons for vanishing." Kageyama-san leaned against the edge of the desk. "Serizawa knows he' s dangerous."

"Dangerous? He's no more dangerous than you!" Arataka raised his arms in despair. He felt like he was talking to a wall.

"Exactly. He's as dangerous as I am. His power is no joke. We are dangerous. Just because it's been years since I lost control doesn't mean it can't happen again." Kageyama-san massaged his temple. "Serizawa knows that too."

"And I'm too much of an idiot to understand, is that it?" Arataka sat back in his chair and started looking at the web hits.

"Taka, I didn't mean."

"Whatever, leave it." Arataka interrupted him. He didn't need to hear anything else.

Kageyama-san left him alone. Silence was an oppressive presence in the office. Arataka typed angrily, trying to push away the depressing thoughts that tried to creep into his mind.

Arataka was not like Kageyama-san. Or like Serizawa. Arataka had no powers. He couldn't help in exorcisms. He couldn't notice the presence of evil spirits. Nor cleanse bad energies. There was nothing that made him special and Kageyama-san had had no problem reminding him of that. Arataka had forcibly created a place for himself within those four walls but that place had never belonged to him. Arataka was never going to be able to understand them. Maybe his mother was right. He was already a high school student and maybe it was time for him to start taking his future more seriously.

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

For once, the supposed curse that had been causing the customer nightmares had been real. Shigeo hadn't had much trouble taking down the evil spirit attached to the small ceramic figurine. His power still sizzled around him as he sat back down in front of his desk.

Taka didn't flinch, his gaze riveted on the computer screen as he typed. Tension could be breathed in the air. Shigeo let himself slump against the back of the chair and sighed defeatedly, his gaze glued to the ceiling. As much as it pained him to think about it, it wasn't the first time Shigeo wished someone else had been the one to walk into Taka's life. Anyone else would have been a better influence on that kid than a social inept like him. 

"Tomorrow's client called to cancel the appointment. He said he'll call back to reschedule another time."

Taka stood up, grabbing his coat and slung his backpack over his back. His gaze seemed far away. Shigeo felt like a complete good-for-nothing.

"Taka, you were right," Shigeo said before Taka walked out the office door. "I should have told you."

"Right." Taka turned, hand still gripping the doorknob tightly. "You should have told me. Why didn't you?"

"I was afraid it would all happen again." Shigeo massaged his temples. "I just wanted Serizawa to have some more time. He's been repressing that power inside him for a long time, hiding from the world. When his mother called me, there were so many things that reminded me of how things were when I was still at home. Repressing never ends well."

"What do you mean?" Taka let go of the knob and took a step, moving closer. "Serizawa would never have hurt me. Things float around him when he gets nervous but"

"Ritsu ended up in the hospital because of me." Shigeo hunched over the desk table, elbows digging into the wood, his monotone barely reflecting how much saying that was affecting him. "I could have crippled him or even killed him. I'm sure Serizawa knows what it's like to live with that fear."

Shigeo knew he should have told him much earlier. Taka had a right to know what kind of person he was. Maybe it would have been a good idea to accept Hanazawa's offer but Shigeo could also be selfish.

"Is that why he never comes to see you?"

Shigeo nodded his head. His mouth tasted like bile. Shigeo was barely able to raise his eyes, too scared to find out what he would see on Taka's face.

" He could at least call" Taka replied with a snort. "What a jerk."

"I don't know why I expected any other reaction." Shigeo laughed. "You know the rest of the world would think we're the idiots, right?"

"Like I care." Taka shrugged. "It's not like people need to be psychic to hurt you. I'm sure it was just an accident."

"Serizawa is lucky."

" Yeah... now try to fix it." Taka tried to hide but the blush was tingeing the tips of his ears.

#mp100 #mp100 ageswap #serirei #reigen arataka #shigeo kageyama #fanfic #my own writing

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Texas health officials have missed a key window to complete the state's first major updated count of pregnancy related deaths in nearly a decade, saying the findings will now be released next summer, most likely after the Legislature's biennial session.

The delay, disclosed earlier this month by the Department of State Health Services, means lawmakers won't likely be able to use the analysis, covering deaths from 2019, until the 2025 legislative cycle. The most recent state-level data available is nine years old.

In a hearing this month with the state’s Maternal Mortality and Morbidity Review Committee, DSHS commissioner Dr. John Hellerstedt said the agency wanted to better align its methodology with that of other states, and that there hadn’t been enough staff and money to finish the review for a scheduled Sept. 1 release.

“The information we provide is not easily understood, and not easily and readily comparable to what goes on in other states,” Hellerstedt told the committee. “And the fact it isn’t easily understood or easily comparable in my mind leaves room for a great deal of misunderstanding about what the data really means.”

In a statement, DSHS spokesman Chris Van Deusen said the agency is reviewing its “internal processes” to try to develop more timely data.

“I expect we’ll be having conversations with legislators about what could be done to speed up the lengthy review process,” he said.

The setback comes four months before the start of the legislative session and two months before the midterm election, which has been dominated in part by the state’s new Republican-led abortion ban. Those restrictions have placed more scrutiny on the state’s maternal mortality rate, which is among the 10 highest in the country, according to national estimates that track pregnancy-related complications while pregnant or within a year of giving birth.

“There are a lot of us that want to know whether or not pregnancy in Texas is a death sentence,” said state Rep. Ann Johnson, a Houston Democrat and member of the Texas Women’s Health Caucus. “If we’ve got a higher rate of maternal mortality, we sure want to figure it out. You can’t figure it out if somebody’s sitting on the numbers, and that’s my worry.”

Like in other states, maternal outcomes in Texas are worse for Black women, who have died at about three times the rate of non-black women. This year’s findings were expected to drill further into the causes behind those disparities.

Rep. Shawn Thierry, a Houston Democrat who has described going through her own dangerous birthing experience, said the data is critical for understanding the role cesarean sections play in maternal deaths and whether implicit bias is playing a factor in the quality of maternal care for Black women.

“There is so much to unpack from the data,” Thierry said, adding that “no woman who chooses life should have to do so in exchange for their own.”

Members of the state’s maternal mortality committee, which compiles the official report, said they were disappointed by the decision to hold the preliminary findings.

“(We) do the work to honor the lives of women who lost their lives, and families that are forever impacted by the loss of a mother,” said Dr. Carla Ortique, the committee chair. “So there’s disappointment on both fronts: that we’re not honoring those women and families, and that we may be negatively impacting efforts to improve maternal health outcomes in our state.”

Ortique said the state has already identified 149 potential maternal deaths in 2019, of which 118 have been analyzed by the committee to see if they were pregnancy-related. Six newly identified deaths may be added to that group, she said. The numbers cover deaths during the pregnancy through one year after giving birth.

The state has published a maternal death report every other year since 2014, often based on preliminary data updated later. For example, the maternal death report in 2018 identified 29 deaths in 2012 that were not included in the previous report. The committee also released updating findings from its most recent report, studying deaths from 2013, at the Sept. 2 meeting.

Out of 175 potential maternal deaths in 2013, 70 have since been determined to be pregnancy-related.

The state has been collecting the updated numbers as part of the requirements of a new CDC grant, awarded to the DSHS in 2019. The balance, according to advocates, is in making sure data is as accurate as possible, but also released quickly enough to be of use to researchers and policymakers.

The reports usually come with wide-ranging recommendations to improve maternal health in the state, including expanding Medicaid to one year postpartum, proactively treating chronic conditions and addressing the disproportionately high number of maternal deaths among Black women.

Texas has extended Medicaid coverage for pregnant women until six months after they give birth or miscarry, but the state has declined to expand coverage to the recommended 12 months.

The unexpected delay has frustrated advocates, who are gearing up to push Republicans in the Senate and the Governor to back the full 12-month extension, as many other states have done.

“State leaders will be able to make better policy decisions for Texas moms if they have more recent data on maternal deaths as well as health challenges like infections or postpartum depression that new moms are facing in Texas,” said Diana Forrester, director of health care policy at Texans Care for Children.

Republican leaders, including Gov. Greg Abbott, who is running for re-election, have celebrated the overturning of federal abortion protections this summer by the U.S. Supreme Court.

Many have committed to boosting resources for pregnant women and new mothers. A spokesman for Abbott did not respond to a request for comment. Republican House Speaker Dade Phelan, who supports the 12-month extension, was critical of the delay, saying it “comes at a time when Texas must support moms and families.”

“Our work will start with passing legislation that further extends postpartum health coverage for new Texas mothers to a full year, which our chamber approved overwhelmingly in 2021 and I expect will do so again next year,” Phelan said in a statement.

In addition to providing updated recommendations for lawmakers, the report also helps nonprofits compete for grants that support new or expectant mothers, said Nakeenya Wilson, an Austin-based maternal health advocate and member of the state’s maternal mortality committee.

Her group, the Maternal Health Equity Collaborative, used data from past reports to earn a $1 million grant that provides childcare for new mothers in Central Texas.

“If they don’t have the most up-to-date information, then we run the risk of disenfranchising some of the most vulnerable in our state,” she said.

Johnson said the delay was “unacceptable” given the high rate of maternal mortalities.

“It is a crisis that we claim on bipartisan grounds to want to investigate,” Johnson said. “And yet here we are told at the last minute on the date that the report was supposed to be due, ‘Sorry, we couldn’t get around to it.’”

#us politics #news #houston chronicle #2022 #texas #maternal death data #maternal mortality #maternal death #abortions #abortion bans #Department of State Health Services #Maternal Mortality and Morbidity Review Committee #Dr. John Hellerstedt #Chris Van Deusen #Rep. Ann Johnson #Texas Women’s Health Caucus #Rep. Shawn Thierry #Dr. Carla Ortique #center for disease control and prevention #medicaid #Diana Forrester #Texans Care for Children #gov. greg abbott #rep. Dade Phelan #Maternal Health Equity Collaborative #Nakeenya Wilson #2022 midterms #2022 elections

[dogproofer]

Fences for Dogs: Reserve Fun Outdoor Time for Your Pets

“Cause a little bit of summer is what the whole year is all about.” – John Mayer (Source: https://www.countryliving.com/life/g3499/summer-quotes/) 

The summers are finally here! This is the time to venture out and explore under the bright sun. It also means you can do a bunch of fun stuff with your pet outdoors. Winters are harsh on your furry friend, with extremely low temperatures making it almost impossible for them to spend quality time outside. Luckily, as the cold transitions into warmer weather, you can make up for the lost time. Besides going on a hike or camping with your dog, building a no-dig dog fence in the backyard gives you much-needed open space. 

If you are too busy to go all outdoorsy, you get a chance to ensure your dog doesn’t miss out on the summer sun. They will play around within the enclosure safely without the risk of getting out. What more can you do this summer with your furball? 

Swim Time

While it’s true that not all dogs are swimmers, you can always make them more comfortable around water. If your pet is not an avid swimmer already, you have a milestone to achieve this summer by teaching it how to swim. The cool waters of the swimming pool, a nearby lake, or the beach (if you are visiting one) are soothing to dogs, and they enjoy it thoroughly, provided they know how to swim.

Camping with Dog

Feeling adventurous? Plan a weekend camping trip, and who better to accompany you on this exciting quest than your dog? Some quality time exploring the woods, chasing rabbits, staring at the clear starry night sky like Mufasa and Simba, and then curling inside the tent as nature’s symphony plays in the background. Can you think of anything better? It will create some amazing memories you will cherish forever.

P.S. Make sure that you take all necessary pet supplies with you.  

Hike Time

Get out your hiking boots; it’s time to travel along nature’s trails under the summer sun. Your dog will be a tag along, breathing in the fresh air, playing, and jumping around you. Hiking and camping are great activities for larger breeds. However, that does not mean smaller breeds cannot experience the same. You might have to make different arrangements, like carrying them in a pet carrier or visiting a place that is safer for smaller pets. 

Dog Park

Dog parks are great for meeting fellow pet parents and finding your dog a playmate. These parks are designed and maintained to ensure absolute safety. Instead of taking your dog on a walk in just any park, why don’t you try taking it to a dog park this summer? Let it make some friends. Like you, dogs need socializing too.  

Backyard Playtime

If not anything else, you still have your backyard to play fetch. If letting your pet play in the backyard unsupervised is an issue, try installing a dog barrier or enclosure. It will give your dog sufficient space to play and lounge under the sun. And you won’t have to worry about it wandering away in the streets or the road.

It’s a Wrap!

So, what would you do with your dog this summer? Will it be a new adventure or installing fences for dogs so it has a permanent playground within the house? Whatever you choose, we wish you enjoy a fantastic summer with your furry friend! 

#no-dig dog fence #dog barrier #fences for dogs

[keuraecray]

Everything is too much today.

My cat hasn’t been eating which means she doesn’t hydrate well being she won’t drink from a bowl. She’s lethargic and nauseous. Vet ran blood work and other tests and $300 later, said she’s perfectly fine. She still looks just as awful. I feel like she is suffering and in pain but everyone tells me to wait it out and she’ll be fine. A fat cat who’s only pleasure is gorging on literally anything that will barely eat anything is clearly not okay. I feel deep remorse thinking about how little I could do for my last cat who I may have prematurely put down. I’m miserable every day over it. And now I can’t afford to do anything but the bare minimum. I know something is deeply wrong and that she has some type of heart issues but I can’t afford anything and it makes me miserable.

I’ve been sick for years with no known cause and my sister I live with has had her own pile of issues that aren’t as straightforward and mess with her mental state. To my family its a strange mystery. To me it’s an insufferable thought always on my mind. I feel like I know the exact root cause.

I firmly believe we have a hidden mold issue causing all our health problems but everyone tells us off saying it’s not possible. My health issues started years ago and we’ve moved multiple times. But people never consider that they could be living in it themselves.

All of my health issues started when I was living in my aunts basement while I was figuring out housing (which is frequently flooded when there’s heavy rain). I was waking up at night gaping for air and went to my original family doctor who said I had anxiety and slapped some meds on me. That was my first apnea. I don’t have them severe enough to be diagnosed with sleep apnea but it is unmistakable.

I’ve always had some level of gut issues but I had always associated it with stress and nerves being things were oh so peachy as a kid. As you get older and the gut issues worsen with or without that original cause, you realize something else is up.

Fast forward to nearing the end of the pandemic. I started having severe brain fog. After countless specialist visits and meeting multiple deductibles, since getting in to specialists takes forever, I was left with no answers. We all chalked it up to long covid since I had at least one confirmed case.

The brain fog had gotten so bad while I was at work I literally felt like I had dementia. Couldn’t remember conversations I’d had with coworkers. They were starting to talk to me about it being an issue with my quality of work but they already had unreasonable expectations to begin with so I just found ways to get around it. I was miserable there and they knew it so I lost my job last month.

My coworker was studying Eastern Medicine and invited me to a student clinic where I had acupuncture at an affordable rate. I felt like I was getting better but as soon as we stopped it would all creep back up. My acupuncturist had asked me if I’d been exposed to mold. She lived through it and thought she saw the symptoms in me. I brushed it off like my family did, in part because I didn’t think it was possible and in part it was just purely denial.

I’ve looked into how to remediate on your own but can’t even afford the basic protective equipment necessary to avoid landing myself in a hospital for it. Don’t have health insurance and have been too depressed to try and apply for low/no cost insurance.

Then there’s the wildfires wrecking havoc on my lungs. There’s a gap the size of my pinky nail in my window of my bedroom so smoke gets in to the house on the bad air quality days. I stuffed a cloth and plastic bags in it with no relief. Ran our air exchange to try to filter what I could out. Filters were black with ash. I found scraps of plastic for sealing the windows in the winter months and have since taped off the window in the hopes that it will help but still feel awful on the bad days.

We have insurance that supposedly covers mold (whether its to replace belongings or to remediate I have no clue) but I’m paralyzed to do anything because we have no money or income even if insurance will help. I feel sicker and sicker each day. The only sleep I seem to get is when I pass out from exhaustion. Even before the health issues started causing me insomnia my cat wouldn’t let me sleep because she would get hangry between 4-8 am. We wound up saving an injured kitten since we didn’t want them euthanized being all the shelters are full. While my big fat cat has been sick he’s taken over in waking me on the few days I actually sleep decently.

Mold is naturally occurring and is present in every home at lower levels but I firmly believe everyone in my family has been living in stuff that’s beyond the point of “healthy”. Friends have their own families and no space so I really feel like I have nowhere else safe to live. I just can’t keep it together. I thought things were going so well when I started my last job despite the foggy brain but it seems like everything is going to hell rapidly in the last couple of months.

#and I post this here knowing no one can help #and few will read #but I don't have anything to fall out on and feel hopeless

[forabetterlifethanthis]

Stuck on the Floor

Stuck on the Floor

The mind.  The soul.  The spirit.  Consciousness.  Being.  The head, the heart, the brain.  Different words to describe two diametric parts of our existence.  The first is the one we all know; that little light behind our eyes.  The second one is the deeper, more opaque one.  The thing that makes us who and what we truly are.  That which there is no evidence of.  So it probably doesn’t even exist.   Do I believe in a soul? No.  So why begin with a monologue of existence?  Not quire sure, seemed to be a grabby overture at the time.  But if life and existence is meaningless, then discussion of life and existence is meaningless.  Should I go into meaningfulness?  No, because that would be meaningless.  I’ve really gone down a rabbit hole here.  My point was going to be that there is no point, but I have bedazzled myself with my own confuddling words.  My mind is a maelstrom of madness, and occasionally some unedifying wisdom is thrown out, but today doesn’t seem to be one of those days. 

The last few days haven’t been those kind of days.  There I am constantly telling myself that things can and will get better.  And surprise of surprises, they don’t.  I think I’m on the floor, and I am very much on the floor.  But the floor keeps getting lower and lower.  And I am stuck to it.  I talk of the triumvirate forces that dictate my future being my vision, my pain and the world in general.   But I think there is a more sinister power, with hegemony over the three.  My mood.  It is my mood that actually affects my quality of life.  If I could be blind and in pain but not be chronically depressed about it, then it wouldn’t even be an issue.  It’s the pain in the mind that it causes that makes me long for an absence of existence.  If only there were a way to pick my mind off the floor and start enjoying life again. 

This is what brought me to writing these posts.  Because I have tried everything.  From all types of medication to all forms of meditation, from exercising to extra-sizing.  Freezing cold showers and boiling hot baths.  Talking to family but never about ends, screaming at my pillows and at all of my friends.  Positive thinking, gratitude, and acceptance.  Releasing tension, anger and frustration.  From walking my dog, to writing this blog.  Finding purpose, meaning and more.  To avoid being forever stuck to the floor. 

I have become so used to feeling hopeless and lost that when I do manage to get a sweaty hold on happiness, my thoughts inevitably turn to how it will not last and my heart rate rises, anticipating the depressional reset.  I speak of a floor.  The lowest the mind can go.  Where gravity crushes all hope and the nothingness beneath swallows it up.  But there is also a ceiling.  Where you feel great.  And great about yourself.  You congratulate yourself on your charmed existence and feel you have really aced that thing called life.  But in Newton’s glorious Earth, what goes up must come down.  And this is particularly true of the mood.  And the higher you soar, the harder the thud when you hit that floor. 

But for me, for the last few weeks, the floor has very much been a place of permanent residence.  I have been in more pain in the last week than ever before in my life.  Even writing this brings so much pain, sometimes I question whether the cathartic relief is even worth it.  I spent the weekend crushing it with drugs, but that very much is short-term gain for longer-term pain.  And today I tried.  I really did try.  I did all the things I could to take my mind off the pain.   I exercised and played my guitar, both bringing pain.  I walked Branston (my guide/therapy dog) and wrote this.  I used to find I could distract myself enough through work and the prospect of getting drunk, but now my time is only free time and I am stuck with my pain and with my thoughts.  There’s nothing anatomically that has shifted within me that has made the pain worse, so it must be all psychological.  I had the same body now as I did six months ago, but that body could run ten miles and go to the gym at 6am.  Now I can barely sit upright for more than a minute. 

It staggers me how much I have fallen.  How hard I have hit the floor.  And I feel so bruised and battered that I’ll never be able to get back up.  If you could see my face, the physical trauma that I have had is obvious.  But I feel like my mind has been more brutally excoriated and bludgeoned.  Not only have I lost the physical strength to do things, I have lost the mental strength as well.  I cannot find enjoyment in anything, or from anyone.  Even the doleful eyes of Branston fails to penetrate the love within me.  All I feel is loss and pain.  I know that it almost definitely would get better if I gave it enough time.  But I don’t know how much more time I can give.  It is really hard, and I know I am not alone and there are those of you out there who understand just how hard it is.  And I send all my best to you.  I really want to try to get off the floor.  Right now, however, I am very much face-down stuck to it, and I feel like I will need something special to lift me up.            

#shitfriends #depression #anxiety #EDS #blindness #grief #pain #chronicpain #chronicillness #death #fun

[mars1oliverrose]

MARS DAWN RESEARCH...

2012s ark, they resemble the style of a cruise ship that is designed to combat the harsh icey waters of Antarctica or any cold sea climate, it's got a sci-fi theme to it as well looks like a ship off of Star Citizen. (A video game about space)

The USSCS Alien Covenant ship was designed to fit 2000 colonists and 1,140 embryos, the purpose of that vessel was to scout out new planets to call home

Two by two animation style is has low quality animated characters and is very childlike in its animation, but that's the intended style so I can let that go, but the animals themselves are quick and have a slight cartoonist style to them.

Catastrophes...

The moon makes are planet more liveable by maintaining our planets wobble on its axis which leads to a more stable climate, it also causes tide's by leading it using it's gravity. The moon supports the wobble of the earth using it's gravity to stabilise the Earth in its orbit.

Unreal and real animals...

Examples of real and real animals are the chigeon or pickons (chicken and a pigeon) it was believed that seeing this animal back in the day would have meant u lost Ur sight, Beefalo (cow and a bison) a big fluffy cow designed to survive cold climates and bred to have better quality meat, and Lygers or leopon (Lion and leopard) these creatures are rare and can only be artificially bred, they have the usual characteristics of a lion's mane mixed with the spotted pattern of a leopard.

Behemoth... A behemoth is referred to as being a big unstoppable force of God's chaos and usually takes the form of something big scary and with horns. In the Bible Behemoth, in the Old Testament is a powerful, grass-eating animal whose “bones are tubes of bronze, his limbs like bars of iron” (Job 40:18). Among various Jewish legends, one relates that the righteous will witness a spectacular battle between Behemoth and Leviathan in the messianic era and later feast upon their flesh.

The Tundra...

Tundra is the coldest of all the biomes. Tundra comes from the Finnish word tunturi, meaning treeless plain. It is noted for its frost-molded landscapes, extremely low temperatures, little precipitation, poor nutrients, and short growing seasons. Dead organic material functions as a nutrient pool.

Apocalyptic landscape art

Bottomland...Flat land along a river, lying a few feet above normal high water, often consisting of alluvial deposits and naturally fertile. It's very ideal for plant life growth since it has most things needed for flora to grow and other creatures to prosper.

THE DARK CRYSTAL...

The dark crystal is a fictional Jim Henson film, "on a fictional planet, the damaged Dark Crystal marks the onset of the age of chaos. If the crystal is not healed during the great conjunction of the three suns, the evil Skekses will rule forever"

"The Gelfling are a race of elf-like creatures native to the planet of Thra. The term Gelfling derives from the term "Ghel-lflainngk" roughly translates to "those who live without knowledge of the future," according to The World of the Dark Crystal documentary." In the film the Gelfling is a boy who is accompanied by another Gelfling with wings so that they could put back the shard of the dark crystal.

"The Skeksis are a fictional species that serves as the main antagonists in the 1982 film The Dark Crystal and its related franchise. The word "Skeksis" serves as both singular and plural form for this species, with the singular being pronounced and the plural." The skeksis themselves are the rulers of the world Thra in the film and take on the appearance of a big ugly bird most time's, they guard the dark crystal and in the film are greedy, disloyal and basically just bad.

"The urRu, more commonly known as Mystics, were a race of natural wizards that lived during the Age of Division. Like the Skeksis, they were offshoots of the urSkeks, personifying their wisdom and spirituality, but lacking their passion and innovation." The mystics were the literal opposite of the skeksis having a more clean and docile look to them, and In the end of the film the two join together Into a type of tree alien.

Brian Froud art...

His work consists of mystical tree people, that also have fairies, goblins, gremlins and dwarfs, basically a bunch of creatures that would look like they could be from the medieval period.

[colorprintingstickers]

How To Choose The Right Paper For Your Photo Printer

Paper is one of the most vital elements of a photo printer’s production workflow. When choosing a paper for your photo printer, you need to make sure that the paper you choose is denser and smoother than your competition’s papers. If this isn’t important to you, keep reading, because there are plenty of affordable choices out there that still deliver on both counts. But first, what exactly does “top-notch” mean? When defining top-notch photo paper, many photographers and printing pros have in common the feeling that something isn't quite right when they see photos printed on inferior quality paper. While some may question why anyone would spend money on photos printed on inferior quality paper, the answer lies in four simple principles: 1) Less Is More Photos don't last forever. The moment they leave your camera's sensor, all of their vibrant color has been reduced to an image storage medium called "print pigment." While less expensive photo printers produce high quality prints with little to no visible pigmentation difference between different types of print pigmentumanovels and white backgrounds - it doesn't mean those same printers can produce top-notch photos from start to finish. In other words: less is more when it comes to choosing a photo paper for your photo printer. 2) Denser Than Your Competition Denser doesn't just mean more expensive; It also means better. When printing photos on cheaper refills vs high-end

 

High-quality prints with minimum visible

For a high-quality print, choose a paper with less visible pigment (or dye) than your competition. This is because cheaper refills usually contain more pigment than the recommended amount, causing the print to appear grainy, even when printed on a professional printer. If you don’t mind this effect, consider switching to a premium photo paper if you’re looking for really high-quality results. But for the majority of users, the extra cost of a higher-quality paper will be worth it when the prints are finished.

 

Color accuracy and deep color

When printing photos, you don’t only want to make sure the color is accurate; You also want it to be saturated and vivid, without being too bright or dark. The best camera settings for producing high-quality photos are determined by trial and error. It’s not something you can sit down and plan out, so don’t worry if you’re not an expert when it comes to shooting and printing photos. In fact, you probably won’t be an expert at it until you’ve printed thousands of photos! This is why selecting the right color temperature and saturation for your photos is so important. The right combination of these two factors will produce images that are true to life, while also delivering a rich, deep color that is beautiful to look at. If you find yourself frequently shooting images with too-bright or dark colors, it’s worth investing in a more light-sensitive paper to prevent over-exploitation of available light.

 

Avoid Backlit photos for best results

Backlit shots of buildings, signs, and other scenery are tricky to print because the contrast between the sky and the building or sign is lost. It’s not just the silhouettes of the structures that are lost; The colors, too, are different when shot from above versus below. To avoid this problem, try to shoot images with the walls and signs behind the subject. If this is tricky to do, or you simply don’t feel like sitting behind a sign, you can substitute a backlit background with a white or light-colored wall. If you’re still struggling with the results, try shooting images with a different light source, like a flashlight, so there’s less contrast between the light and the subject.

 

What is the difference between matte, glossy and super glossy paper?

The main difference between matte and glossy papers lies in their sheens. Matte glossy paper papers are usually considered more professional, while a glossy paper has more sheen, which is desirable for artistic shots. You can also look for additional keywords like “matte finish” or “high gloss” to find papers with the perfect combination of sheen and grip.

 

Conclusion

Choosing the right paper for your photo printer can make or break your image. The combination of paper type, quality, and thickness you choose can have a huge impact on the overall look of your photos. Don’t settle for inferior quality prints when you could do better with a simple change in paper type!

#glossy paper

[kneeeklaus]

You Are Not A Monster - Klaus Mikaelson

General Info:

TW: Swearing

Type: Angst, fluff

Summary: You have to make a tough decision after Klaus makes a daring confession. 

*I wrote this from a female’s perspective but tbh, I don’t remember using any gendered language. Could be wrong tho...

You were speeding down a winding road, which probably wasn’t a smart decision considering the low visibility caused by being out in the middle of the night during an epic rain storm. You didn’t have a choice though, when Klaus calls, Klaus calls. 

And so, you put aside every anxious thought and moral violation to sneak out in the middle of night and meet Klaus, in hopes that he wouldn’t hurt anyone you cared about. 

Your relationship with Klaus was rocky, to say the least. On one hand, he was a good friend, when he decided to be. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily define your relationship with him as friends - maybe more casual acquaintances who sometimes enjoyed each other’s company,  and other times argued incessantly. 

There were times when you saw straight through him. When you saw his humanity. Times when his wide smile made you feel like there was sparkling water in your stomach. Times when you laughed together at stupid things. Times when he actually seemed to appreciate you, and enjoy the time he spent with you. 

But most of the time, it was just you struggling against him, like a fish swimming up stream, or two magnets with the same charge. For every time he proved to you there was more to him than maliciousness and manipulation, there were two more times when he proved to you he may be unsaveable after all. But you never gave up, no matter how mad you were at him. 

He’d caused you unspeakable pain, but you somehow still believed in him. Even after he tried to use one of your closest friends as leverage, you still believed he could do better - be better. 

You arrived at his home, and sat in your car for a moment. You wondered for the first time since you’d up and left your house in such a hurry you’d think a tsunami warning had gone out, what this was all about. It was nearly two a.m. What did he need to discuss so urgently?

A knock at your window startled you, and your head whipped to your left to see Klaus. You sighed, and shut your eyes tightly, trying to shake off your sleepiness, before opening the door of your car. Klaus was already pretty wet, and he didn’t look happy, which scared you. 

“Y/N” He said “We have to talk.”

“Can’t we go inside, Klaus?” You asked, cutting him off. 

“No, Elijah and Rebekah are in there, I don’t want them to be eavesdropping.” Klaus stated bluntly. 

“But I don’t want to be drenched.”

“You’re soaking wet already, don’t be so sensitive.” He said. You reluctantly sighed, he was right. 

“Alright then, Klaus, what was so important you called me in the middle of the night to discuss, in the pouring rain, away from anyone who could possibly be listening?” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, you see, I had an epiphany. When I first met you, I was so frustrated by you and I never understood why. It could’ve been anything really, your attitude, probably.” You narrowed your eyes at him “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wasn’t frustrated because you were frustrating, I was frustrated because, well, you uh-”

“Out with it, Klaus, I’m tired, I want to go to sleep.” You almost growled. 

“Well why didn’t you just say that? Let’s get you inside, I’ll have a bedroom prepared for you.” He immediately ceded.

“Wait- What? Klaus I thought this was important? And now you’re inviting me inside? Just tell me, god damn it.” You said, frustrated. “What the hell did you wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me?”

“I-” He paused as you began to anxiously tap your foot on the wet concrete below your boot. “I like you” He almost whispered, as if ashamed. 

“Wait- I thought this was business-”

He cut you off “Y/N...” His voice trailed off, his hair now sticking to his forehead. His eyes seemed to bore into you, and his brow bone dipped with anxiety. His bottom lip quivered, as if he was unsure of what to say next, and all the while, you stood there, silent, not believing the words that had just spilled from his mouth. “I realized the reason I was so flustered whenever you were around was because you make me feel things I’ve never felt before - good things.”

You were confused. This was the kind of shit you hated about Klaus, he was so unpredictable. You never knew how he felt unless he said it, and he was saying it now, but even still, you were confused. If he liked you why did he yell whenever you two argued? If he liked you why did he hurt the people you love?

“Please say something, Y/N.” He pleaded. For a moment, you wanted to melt into him. You wanted to forget the past, and let him become your world - because you knew you felt it too, even though you wouldn’t ever allow yourself to acknowledge it. 

But you knew better, you knew who you were, and you knew what you deserved. And you knew what you had to do next, even though you’d rather time stop forever and never have to say those words. 

“I can’t” You stuttered “I don’t know what you want me to say!” You said, overflowing with emotions. 

“Do you not feel the same?” He asked, stepping closer to you. 

But you turned away from him. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Of course I do, but Klaus-” You were cut off abruptly as he spun you back towards him, your chests just inches apart. He looked from your eyes to your lips, and he moved closer, his mind lost in the idea of you. “Please don’t kiss me...”

Immediately, his body went stiff. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion, and he took a sheepish step back. You’d never seen him like this, knocked off his pedestal. “I’m sorry I woke you up, you can leave now.” He said harshly, before he turned away. 

“Klaus, stop!” You raised your voice, and he turned back towards you hesitantly. You weren’t exactly sure of what to say next, but you knew how you felt. “Do not think, for one second, that I don’t want you too.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” He said, his attitude poking through his vulnerable exterior. 

“Because, Klaus. As much as I want to, I can’t”

“Why?”

“Because I know who I am, and I know I deserve better! You might be the original hybrid, and probably one of the most attractive and charming people I have ever met in my life, but that doesn’t mean shit to me if you’re going to act like a piece of shit person.” He looked stunned at your outburst, but you weren’t done. “When we get along it’s the best feeling in the world, but when you’re against me, or the people I love, or against my morals, it makes me feel like shit. I don’t deserve to feel like that. Think about it, Klaus, there’s currently no version of this where both of us end up happy.” 

For a moment you both stood there in silence, just looking at each other as if it was the last time you’d ever meet. “You’re right.” He said lowly “You deserve a better man than I am. I’m a monster.” 

Part of you wanted to burst into tears and apologize to him for the next five years. He looked devastated, heartbroken even. You’d never seen him look like that before. Hell, you probably just scraped the tip of the iceberg. “Klaus...” you said, not knowing what else to say, but by now, he couldn’t look you in the eye. 

“Forget I said anything, I’m sorry I bothered you.” He said as he turned around and headed towards his residence once again, but you couldn’t help yourself, and your body sprung in motion. 

You took his hand in your own, and he stopped, but he didn’t look at you. “You are not a monster.” You said seriously, and finally his gaze met yours. 

“How do you know that?” He asked, his voice sounding like it was about to break. 

“Because I see good in you. You don’t like bullies, and you protect those you care about, and you’re good with children. I mean, your favorite character in the Bee Movie is Ken, do you remember why?”

“Because I felt bad. He lost his wife to a bee. That’s got to sting.” Klaus said, a slight grin pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“And you’re funny!” You pointed out. “You have so many good qualities, Klaus, but you choose to hide them. You choose to be the monster people think you are. You’d rather be feared, than revered. I don’t want to be afraid of my own boyfriend.” You sighed. 

He looked at you with fondness, as much as his heart ached, he respected you for being honest with him. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to be better. He wanted to become the man you deserved. He pulled you in and placed a soft, tender kiss on your forehead, and wrapped his arms around your frame. He could stay like this forever, and never be tired of it. 

She knew what he was thinking by the look on his face, and after he released her, she nodded at him, before making her way back to her car. “I’ll still be here, waiting for you, Klaus, I will always wait for you.”

#klaus #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #niklaus x reader #niklaus mikaelson #the originals #tvd #fluff #angst #klaus oneshot #oneshot #vampire #klaus x y/n #klaus angst

[nothing-but-dreamy]

HC: s/o is dying in their arms

A/N: So..... I got this request:

"If you have the time do you think maybe you could do a headcanon with the resident evil boys reacting to their s/o dying in their arms? That angsty stuff ya know?"

And, here you go! I took Leon Kennedy and Chris Redfield. Enjoy...?

Words: 3.135

Warnings: angst, mention of blood, mention of death, raw emotions (the whole palette; gender neutral reader

Leon Kennedy:

- before Leon even can react, the infected has bitten you, digging its teeth into your flesh what caused you to cry out in pain and in surprise because you haven't noticed it behind you at all

- Leon kills the zombie or infected or whatever it was Umbrella had created this time before he runs to you

- you are already coughing blood; you press your hand on the wound but you are already spilling the blood on your bulletproof vest - ironically that you thought a bullet would kill you when you are fighting against BOWs

- you see Leon's concerned expression and that is the only thing that is really hard for you in this moment - to see him suffer; he is the last one who deserves any of this because he is too nice, too lovely, too handsome and too precious

- because deep down inside of you, you know that it is over; this is the end of your journey; the BOW didn't just take a little bite to taste you - no, it took the whole buffet and a refill on top

- you already feel the virus spreading through your veins, nagging on the healthy blood cells to change them into something nasty, at least you imagine it to be like this; it is just a question of time what happens first: that you become one of these undead monsters on your own OR that you die of immense blood loss - internally, you hope for the second option because the last thing that should ever happen is that Leon sees himself forced to kill you

- Leon kneels next to you; he doesn't even care if he is already covered in your blood, the only thing he is trying is saving your life

- he tries to give you the anti-virus but you stop him what makes Leon even more furious, a state you barely have witnessed before from this skilled, composed but also cheeky agent who always has some funny words on his lips to make you smile

"Could you please keep still so I can help you?"

"Leon, n-no... just ... don't.", you breathe, stopping his hand while you get shook by new waves of coughing.

"YN, we don't have much time. So, please, be smart and listen to me just this one time.", Leon says composed but you already see the tears glittering in the corners of his eyes - these beautiful, bright eyes you will miss the most because they held the promise of your shared future in them.

"It... it would be just a- a waste..", you choke out, taking the anti-virus to throw it out of reach for Leon who stares at you in shock, "The blood lo-lo... the loss is faster than the virus. At.... at least, I- I'm not turning into ... into...", your voice breaks as you become short of breath.

- Leon already sits on the ground, ignoring whatever happens around him; it doesn't matter at all; he just sits down, pulling you onto his lap while enclosing you with his arms as strong as he can to pull you close to his chest, the place where you have been preferably when you two were together, spending quality time in bed together

- this time, it is the same; your hands already find their way to his chest so you can feel his heartbeat while you try to breathe and live a little bit longer; you fight till your last breath just to look into Leon's handsome face, framed by these always so soft fringes; that is the last wish you have to whatever entity that might be out there - that Leon's face would be the image that will burn into your mind that it will persist till you reach the afterlife

- Leon tries to stay strong for you but it is not working; the tears are already running free as he realizes that you are right; no help would be fast enough to save you; so, this is the last opportunity he has to say things; things he always had on his mind when he saw you, when he was with you but he never found the right moment to say them; Leon was sure he would have all the time in the world to show you what you meant to him if he wasn't able to tell you that - now, he had to realize that he was wrong

"Leon... p-please, look at me...", you plead softly, seeing his eyes is something you cling to as if they are the lighthouses which would guide you back into life.

Leon smiles weakly at you and strokes bloody strands out of your face, "Don't worry, you have my whole attention like always. I always had eyes just for you, sweetheart.", he whispers.

"Oh, n-no... y-you won't start now with the-these cheesy nicknames.", you choke out, accompanied with some more blood.

Leon chuckles softly about the fact that you are still the same, talking back like always, "Fight me. When you decide to leave me, I can decide to call you 'sweetheart' as much as I want.", he says and shows you your favorite smirk even through tears.

You chuckle, "Yeah, blame me for that, Kennedy.", you whisper.

Leon leans closer to you as he notices that you become weaker, even the grip of your hands becomes less, "There are so many things I always wanted to tell you and now, you... you-", but his voice breaks because no matter how tough he wants to be it is you he is losing right now. You are his partner as an agent and in life, working side by side and living even closer.

With your last strength, you raise your hand to cup Leon's cheek, "Then tell... tell me the most imp-important thing...", you say slowly to get the words out as clearly as possible.

Leon leans against your weak touch, already feeling how your skin becomes colder. You also start to shiver and he brings you even closer to keep you warm with the body heat you were always searching for, "The most important thing? That I love you, YN. I lost my heart on you the moment I met you no matter how frustrating you were with your trouble-making attitude. As we started to date, I was the happiest man on this planet and this never changed. You just make me so damn happy. I should have told you that so much earlier.", he whispers.

You smile weakly at him, "Better now th... th-then never...", you whisper. Actually, you want to say more but you can't.

Leon, who sees it, leans down, raising your chin with his forefinger softly lying underneath it so he can reach your lips for a longing, loving and caring kiss. He feels you responding to his lips. You kiss him back. He continues to kiss you with more force, with more emotions until he notices that there is no reaction from you anymore.

- Leon squeezes his eyes shut, leaving your lips slowly and resting his forehead against yours while countless hot tears are running down his cheeks; he covers you with his tears, a veil of undying love Leon carries for you

- he's clinging desperately on your lifeless body in his arms; his fingers are digging into your skin in hope to jolt you back into life but nothing happens

- he even sobs ugly and muffles the sound as he buries his face into your hair to take a deep breath of your scent for the very last time

- he just sits like this for no matter how long, embracing you, until medics come to bring you away - or at least, they try because Leon won't let go of you; only as another agent comes to remind Leon of the rules and the protocols they have to follow, Leon gives in and let go of you but just very reluctantly

- in the end, Leon Kennedy stands there, covered from head to toe in your blood with dark gleaming eyes and a grim expression on his face with the strong determination to destroy Umbrella and everything else which fault it was that he had lost the love of his life forever

Chris Redfield:

- as Chris hears the shot, it isn't just the sound of a bullet leaving a gun;

- it is the sound that will burn itself forever into his mind, into his memories and into his heart because the moment he hears it accompanied by your muffled scream, a big part of his life will change within one second

- Chris turns around and sees you slowly slumping down on your knees before you fall to the ground, lying on your side and gasping for air

- the Umbrella subject the team was chasing is already on the run with the gun still in his hand; two members of Chris' team are running after him, catching and arrest him

- but Chris doesn't care for the mission any longer as he sees you nearly unconscious lying on the ground, a puddle of blood already forming underneath you; seeping from the nasty gunshot wound in your body

- with long strides, Chris is next to you in just a few seconds; he throws his rifle aside; undressing the protected jacket he is wearing to press it onto your wound to stop the bleeding but he already has noticed that your aorta got hit; blood is already everywhere and still pouring out of you very quickly

"YN! Open your eyes! Now! That's an order!", Chris says serious and slaps softly on your cheek to wake you up.

Very slowly because you already feel weak, you open your eyes just to see his worried expression, "That didn't go as planned, right?", you choke out with a strained voice.

- The other members of the team are in some distance just watching helplessly the scene; the medic feels frustrated and angry because there is nothing he could do to help you; he already had seen that you will die within the next few minutes and in the way Chris treats you in front of everyone, the medic knows that Chris is aware of your death as well

- Chris knows what such a wound means and so, he doesn't want to waste any precious moment with you; you, the one person he kept the closest to himself; it were against a bunch of rules to start something with a team member and Chris always was dutifully enough to stick to the rules until you showed up; you changed the game the second Chris had laid his eyes on you;

- you were the best explosive expert he could ask for; your personality was just as spicy as your grenades and first, Chris thought you were just toying with him but quickly, during a mission where the two of you had to save each other asses, he realized that you weren't just flirting out of fun instead, you really wanted him; Chris was sure with his assumption as you were kissing him;

- that was you and your character - cheeky, playfully, bubbly, maybe a bit too over the top but straight forward if you really wanted something; mostly when you wanted him

- all this is swirling through Chris' mind as he kneels next to you, scooting you up into his lap to have you closer; he doesn't care if someone sees the two of you; he already expected your relationship to be an open secret to the other members of his team; they all knew about the two of you and secretly, they were all shipping you two so hard; destroying any kind of rumors in the beginning to protect the two of you and that no superior would notice the tiniest bit

You look into his beautiful but concerned eyes, "Chris, I'm sorry, I fucked up.", you whisper, your voice is layered with pain and agony; you even try to move but you give up as you already feel your body becoming numb

"Shh, everything will be good again, you will see. Don't worry.", Chris whispers and strokes softly over your back. He's lying, he knows it, you know it, the others know it, but no one cares; you know he needs that to stay strong for you or otherwise he would break in front of you;

- no matter how tough Chris Redfield seems to be on the outside, you know how soft he is on the inside; you discovered this side on him very quickly because he couldn't keep up his resistance in front of you; this tough, tall and broad guy turned into a soft, passionately and cuddly teddy bear in your hands and you wouldn't want to have it differently

"Yeah, you know, Captain, there are still a few things I wanna do with you.", you say low with a soft smirk, using your favorite 'nickname' for him to produce a weak smile on Chris' lips; you always used his military rank as a teasing nickname when you two were in bed, knowing exactly that it turned him on to get called that from you in a sexy voice

"What things do you wanna do? Tell me so we can plan something for the next week. We all need a break.", Chris asks, his voice just a whisper because he can't speak louder anymore or otherwise the raw emotions would take control over him completely.

"Showing you my home town. My mother wants to meet you so desperately.", you say before you hissed with pain, "You know, I told her a few things about you."

"Oh, already? I had no idea you're so serious with me.", Chris says, his voice heavy with tears while he strokes beads of sweat out of your face.

"Obviously, I fell in love with your sexy ass and now, there's no turning back anymore for me because I just love you, Chris.", you whisper weakly, one single tear is running down your cheek because the last thing you want is to leave this incredible man forever.

- that you address him by his name is almost too much for Chris to handle because you just do it when you talk about important, serious things; he swallows thickly because your confession is everything he always wanted to hear no matter how sure he was to have you; to hear these three words coming from your lips was everything Chris was longing for and now, as they came, he would have done everything to switch these words with your life to keep you by his side a little bit longer

Chris pulls you even closer, "I know you will hate it to hear but I won our bet that you would say 'I love you' first. Gotcha.", Chris breathes, nudging your nose with his and now, he even can't stop the tears anymore from running freely down his cheek, soaking his shirt and even your combat clothes

The blood loss is already too heavy and so you claw your hand into Chris' shirt to pull him down to you because you can't move properly anymore, "I can handle losing this silly bet because I already got the jackpot of my life a long time ago.", you breathe before you connect your lips with Chris’ for the most passionately and longing but at the same time desperately kiss the two of you have ever shared.

- all the love you feel for this soldier is lying in your lips which are getting colder with each passing second. Chris' lips are hot against yours, the stubble he sports as a beard, because you like to see it on him the most, is already wet with heartbreaking tears; you try to deepen the kiss but the dizziness in your head is already too much; Chris encloses your face with his free hand, supporting your neck with his long fingers and kisses you stronger than before; your tongues are caressing each other lovingly before Chris breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours

- You feel Chris' warm breath fanning over your face while his heart is racing under your weak grip of your hand. You hate to see him suffer like this, knowing that he has to live with the pain to lose you, to be alone again. You hope he finds someone else even if you already know that Chris will have a tough time while coping with your death, maybe even using your death as the cause to start a vendetta against Umbrella and everything they do.

Your vision becomes slowly blurry and the edges of your sight are already black, "Chris, promise me that you won't do reckless things...", you choke out, followed by some coughing.

"Stay by my side and I won't do anything, I promise.", Chris whispers, offering you a solution.

"I will always be by your side, Chris. I will be watching over you.", you breathe before Chris kisses you again until there is no more reaction from you.

- Chris rests his forehead against yours, clinging to your dead body and crying silently with closed eyes; his face is a mask of pure agony and despair while he grit his teeth; his veins are filling with anger and hatred for what has happened to you; he still can't believe that you are gone, that you have left him just like this, leaving him alone in this crazy, cruel world of living nightmares

- the team is speechless about the whole scene; to see these two lovers getting separated far too early hit all of them; just the medic is able to function, knowing what kind of protocols they have to follow; the medic tries to get Chris away from you but the huge Captain is not moving; so, the three others have to drag him away from you with all the power they can find

- reluctantly, Chris let go of you, standing up with shaking knees; while he tries to catch his breath, his eyes are landing on the suspect who had shot you; before someone of the others can stop him, Chris, feeling like a blank nerve, storms over to him, pushing him up against a wall, beating into the man's face what brings him down to the ground with a bleeding nose and eyebrow; Chris even wants to kick him but the team mates can hold him back, bringing him away so he can cool down somewhere else

- but Chris won't ever cool down again; he promises to himself to use your death as the fuel to keep the fire burning to fight until the last BOW and even Umbrella would have paid for what they had done to you

- You didn't want him to do something reckless but Chris wouldn't do anything reckless, he would be merciless till the moment he would see you again

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon resident evil #resident evil leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanon #leon kennedy vendetta #leon kennedy damnation #chris redfield #resident evil chris redfield #resident evil infinite darkness #resident evil chris #angst #pure angst #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral fanfic

[butwhatifidothis]

So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it. 

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.” 

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take."" 

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”" 

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior. 

#anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard critical #o captain my captain #<- borrowing nilsh's tag for this lmao in case I do end up continuing this #but yeah from just the latest chapter there are characters that 100% cheerlead for the pure righteousness that is Edelgard #so yeah that's... gonna be fun lmao

[spunkpunx]

Say You Love Me - Jimmy Darling

Plot: Reader is heartbroken when she hears Jimmy has lost his hands, but when they're replaced he decides to make up for lost time

Word count: 3105

Warnings: Smut, Smoking, Mild violence

The words hit me like a ton of bricks when Dell brought the news. Jimmy's hands were gone. My Jimmy's hands were gone. Taken. That no good piece of shit Richard Spencer and his lies. I couldn't believe Elsa had fallen for his bollocks, but I supposed that was his game. The rest of the freaks stood in shock.

"Oh no, not Jimmy!" Ima cried over dramatically. I felt my blood boil. My skin crawled as she wailed. I felt my ears burn up with my rage. She'd been here not five minutes and here she was, caterwauling over what they had done to him. I couldn't out loud admit what I felt about Jimmy, but I sure as hell could let it be known how I felt about her. I ran at her and swung one hard punch to the side of her head. The force did not knock her over, but the shock certainly did. 

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" I spat out the words repeatedly as I continued to hit her face and chest once she had fallen. I felt my eyes prick as I screamed at her, before Paul and Eve pulled me away. The second the anger cleared I collapsed in tears. Penny came over to me as Eve followed Dell out the tent. She held me tight as I sobbed into her chest. Ima was taken out the tent, bloodied and bruised and sniveling. I lifted my head only to spit in her direction.

"Shh, shh," Penny cooed, stroking my hair. 

"What have they done to him?" I whimpered, my voice coming out far more feeble and cracked then I had ever heard it. "How's he going to survive in there without his hands?"

"I don't know," Penny told me, honestly. "I'm sure he'll find a way."

She took me back to my caravan and I poured myself a drink. I pulled an ashtray out the cupboard and lit a cigarette.

"You don't have to watch over me Penny. I'm sure you probably best go check on your man."

"I don't want to leave you like this," she admitted, sat delicately on the edge of my bed. She was still so beautiful, despite the lizard tattoo, and so kind as well. I couldn't bear to be around anyone at the minute though.

"I'll be fine," I told her softly, but when she didn't move I snapped at her. "Piss off! I don't want you here!" I hadn't meant to be so harsh, but she gathered herself up and left. I knocked back my drink in one. It burned my eyes and stung my throat but I hoped for my own sake it would help me sleep.

I went through more alcohol and more cigarettes. My ashtray overflowed. My head was spinning as I reached toward the bottom of the bottle. With my head heavy I fell over into my bed and pulled the covers round myself, only bothering to clumsily remove my shoes before shutting my eyes tight and trying to forget my thoughts. I lay there, my mind playing a reel of horrors of what could have happened to Jimmy. I pictured him beaten in a jail cell, battered to death like Meep was, or sat in despair at his own situation. I knew he couldn't have killed those women, even if he didn't, because he was here in this caravan when it happened. I knotted my fingers into my hair, reeling drunk. I was just as bad as he had been. 

I eventually passed out, but kept waking, sweaty and restless after nightmares. At one point my stomach turned and I chugged up my guts off the side of my bed. I rolled back over after that and caught half an hours rest before I woke again. The night went on like that until the sun rose and Eve came in to get me up. 

"Oh sweetheart," she muttered upon seeing my sorry state. She delicately picked her way to the bed past the vomit and brought me out of bed to go sit on the seat I had. I blubbered pathetically while she tossed a towel over my mess and brought me a glass of water. I was still slightly drunk, but tried to be as co-operative as possible. Eve sat next to me, pulling me in for a hug while I continued to feel like a maudlin burden on her. She took me over to have breakfast with the others, and I hiccuped my way through some bread and butter, as everyone threw pitiful stares my way. I began to sober up. 

"I'm sorry, Eve. I'm sorry I'm so useless."

"Don't be silly, come with me," she directed, taking my hand and leading me away from the show ground. As we walked further away I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

"It's awful nice of you to try cheer me up but I'd rather not go anywhere," I told Eve, following her through the undergrowth. We passed the spot where Ethel had ended her life, which brought back more memories of how Jimmy had been after she passed. My eyes welled, but I tried hard to keep it suppressed. I didn't want anyone to think I was being such a pathetic mess over Jimmy Darling. I didn't want to be another of the freaks that he's fucked and now loves him.

"It's Elsa who said you ought to come here," Eve explained. It was probably her plan to distract me from my wallowing, or punish me for what I did to Ima. I expected hard labour ahead of me.  We reached a small barn with the doors locked. Eve produced a key, unlocking the chains. "Now listen. Elsa says its your job to look after him," she instructed pulling the door open to let me see inside. It took me a minute to realise there was a bed, a bed and a familiar face. 

"Jimmy!" I gasped, rushing to his side. I burst into tears again, this time from pure relief. "Oh baby your hands!" 

By his side lay two bloodied stumps wrapped in bandage. His eyes filled with tears when he looked at me. 

"Princess I haven't ever seen you cry before," he told me lightheartedly, but his voice cracked and he wept. I placed my hand on his face and he leaned into my touch as I wiped his tear with my thumb. I turned back to give Eve a thank you but she had left. I turned to Jimmy. 

"I thought you were gonna be gone forever," I told him, sniffling. 

"Me too baby." I bent down and pressed my lips down against his. We shared a salty kiss. I felt him flinch hard and cut off the kiss when he lifted his arm hold me. He immediately broke down in tears again. "I'm never going to be able to hold you again," he whimpered, and I sensed that there was certainly more to it than that. It stung to see him in such a sorry state.

"Oh Jimmy don't upset yourself," I tried to comfort him. "I have to change your bandages. Okay?" He shook his head. "I let you do it for me," I reminded him.

"Well you have no fucking idea how much it hurts," he snapped. I understood his frustration, but I couldn't help but pull away, hurt. His eyes softened. "I'm sorry (y/n), I just... I just don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Hold, still." I ran my hand down his arm slowly until I reached the bandage trying to cause minimum pain. I unwrapped it slowly, Jimmy putting on a brave face. As I pulled the bloodied part away from his wound he flinched and gritted his teeth. "This is really gonna sting," I warned as I poured alcohol onto cotton to clean his injury. He bit down on his pillow and nodded for me to go ahead. I wiped it as gently as I could and tried to ignore his muffled howl. "I'm sorry." He let the pillow from his teeth.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, doll," he assured, breathless from pain. I took his stump in my hands, wrapping it in bandage.

"I tried to tell the police it wasn't you, but they wouldn't listen."

"It might have been me, I was there, I was blind drunk."

"It wasn't, Jimmy. You were in my caravan. You said you loved me."

"I do." He looked at me sincerely. I avoided his eye, focusing my attention back to binding up his arm.

"You don't Jimmy, you love Maggie, you only wanted me because you were scared she might leave you and you thought I wouldn't." I sighed. 

"That's not true, I kept coming back because I love you." Tears pricked my eyes again. He probably thought Maggie had left and was settling for me. I tied off the bandage and he raised his arm up to my face, sucking in his breath sharply as his stump brushed my cheek. "And you love me too."

"No, I don't," I lied. He watched me, his stare breaking me apart like it always had.

"Paul came by before you. I haven't seen you cry once before, (y/n), but he said you have been tearful all morning. He also told me about Ima," he teased, smugly. I didn't know it was possible to sound both so weak and so smug at the same time. 

"I was worried, it doesn't mean-" 

"Please just tell me it does. Just tell me you love me, it's all I ever wanted to hear." I let out a breath I never realised I was holding.

"I love you, Jimmy Darling." He smiled at me. I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before taking a few draws. I put it between his lips for him so he could take a puff. 

"Look at me," he complained. "Can't even hold my own cigarette."

"Hush now Jimmy. Things will take time," I reassured him, to little effect. We shared the rest of the cigarette and I moved round to change the bandage on the other side. Jimmy didn't speak until I'd finished and stood up to leave.

"Thank you, (y/n)," he said sincerely. I went back to his bedside, leaned down a pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I'll be here to change your bandages again tomorrow,"  I told him softly.

Although Elsa had not left, she had still sold the show to Chester, who although had a definite screw loose, seemed harmless enough. He was bright, chirpy and certainly not bossy. His odd qualities only came from the wooden ventriloquist doll he was so attached to. The twins seemed quite smitten with him, and, if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were screwing him. 

I was civil with Maggie after her trickery, especially knowing how difficult the world could be, but Jimmy had far from forgiven her. This was a hard situation to negotiate. She had asked about him, and I knew she cared, but Jimmy was set in his hatred of her. It was hard to sympathise with a woman who had been part in a scheme resulting in the death of Ma Petite and the loss of Jimmy's hands. For the most part I told the truth. Jimmy was not going to soften any time soon.

I apologised to Ima too, hard as it was. She didn't really take my apology, but it hardly bothered me. It was mainly for the sake of the others, and to keep the peace. 

That night, Dell was shot. He, it turned out, had been the one to kill Ma Petite. I felt bad for his death. As shitty as his actions were, I always felt he was trying his hardest for a better life. Still, killing another freak was unforgivable, and Ma Petite was innocence itself. It was my job to deliver the news to Jimmy, which was horrible.

"He was my father!" 

"I know Jimmy! I'm sorry!"

"Don't you dare start apologising for those murderers, (y/n)!"

"Jimmy he killed Ma Petite!" I ended up snapping. "He killed an innocent and he paid the price." Jimmy broke down into tears again, and I ended up wrapping my arms around him.

"I'm losing everything."

"Come on, baby. It hurts to see you cry so much," I mumbled into his neck. He sobbed into my shoulder.

"Don't ever leave me (y/n). Don't ever break my heart.”

The day Jimmy's hands were ready was the happiest I had seen him in months. I came into the barn again to see him, when I spotted him sat on the bed. The moment he saw me he stood up and rushed toward me. I opened my arms to him and he caught me in his grasp, lifting me off my toes. He kissed me, properly. His dark eyes seemed full of hope. I took his arms from around me and held one of his new hands in mine. Mr. Dolcefino had created perfect wooden hands, still with Jimmy's finger shapes. They were works of art.

"They're beautiful, baby," I told him, smiling.

"They ain't half as functional as they were, but my hands have never looked so good."

"Your hands always looked good." I kissed him again, harder this time. He pulled me flush against him.

"It kills me I can't touch you the same baby," he told me, running his wrists down my side in place of his hands.

"I don't care, Jimmy. I love you," I said, and it was the first time I'd said it since he asked me to. He pulled me in again for another kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth and pushing the backs of my knees against the bed. "Easy tiger," I teased.

"I haven't held you in so long (y/n)," he replied, pushing himself even closer to me, my body flush with his own. I felt him, hard against my thigh. I kissed him again, hard, and let him push me onto the bed, his own weight on top of mine. He began to nip at my neck, and I sighed contentedly. He went to cup my breast with his hand, but came short when he realised his hands could not move the same, could not feel. "Baby, I'm sorry," he apologised, sitting up on his knees and pulling away. I sat up with him and put my hands around his neck, fiddling with the hair at its nape.

"You aren't giving up that easy are you?" I jibed. "After all, you have a mouth in perfect working order." He grinned at me, pulling me into another hungry kiss. He nibbled down my neck again.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to undress yourself, doll." I did as instructed, pulling my jumper over my head while Jimmy watched. He returned to kissing my collarbone as I undid my bra. His kisses travelled over my breasts, wooden hand against my side. He kissed along my chest, eventually moving to take one of my nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it as I sighed. He bit down on it and I yelped, scolding him lightly by giving him a little slap on the arm. He grinned again at my reaction, before kissing his way down my sternum. He stopped for a second, giving me an opportunity to pull my trousers off for him. I went to pull my underwear down but he stopped me, instead using his teeth to pull them down and bringing them the rest of the way with his prosthetic. I laughed at his actions, until he buried his face into my heat, licking over my clit again and again. I felt myself get quickly wetter as he flicked his tongue up my slit. His attention went back to my clit, circling it as I dug my fingers into his hair, pulling at it and moaning as I did. I felt my cheeks flush when he came back up the bed to kiss me again, my taste still on his lips. "I'm feeling a little uncomfortable in these pants, do you think you can help doll?" he asked. I happily obliged.

"Of course baby." I pulled his shirt of his shoulders slowly, the removed his vest, taking my time to run my hands all across his chest and take it all in again. I ran my hand over his stomach and reached to palm him through his trousers. He groaned and closed his eyes. Then I took off the trousers, getting him to sit up in order to help me. I could see the shame in his eyes so as soon as they were off I kissed him hard and put my hands into his pants, stroking his cock. He let out the most delicious moan into the kiss. After a minute of this we were both desperate for it so I bit his earlobe and pulled his cock out of his pants, guiding it to the right place. He pushed into me slowly.

"Fuck," he swore, before capturing my mouth with his and thrusting again. I let out another moan into his mouth as he bit down hard on my lip. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, speeding up his thrusts with considerable lack of control. It had been a while since we had sex, so the desperation in his movements was very apparent. He let out the most beautiful gasps and moans, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair as he continued to nip and suck at my collarbone. I tugged at his brown curls and he groaned breathily. He recaptured my lips in his own and I let out a moan as he pushed deeper into me.

"Jimmy," I panted into his ear, before pulling on his earlobe with my teeth. He let out what was almost a growl and fucked me even harder. I felt myself drawing closer to finishing and let out a desperate string of swears.

“Come on, baby doll, fuckin finish for me,” Jimmy murmured deeply, kissing along my jaw and neck before biting down on my collarbone. I let out a gasp as I felt a wave of pleasure over me, clenching around him and digging my nails into his back. He kept going, his thrusts sloppy, coaxing me through my orgasm until a faltering moan fell from his lips and he pulled out, spilling his load onto my stomach. He lay on top of me, spent, and I pulled my fingers through his hair, running my nails against his scalp.

“You really love me?” I asked, as his hot breath brushed my neck. Before he answered he pressed soft kisses against my shoulder.

“Of course I do, doll face.”

#jimmy darling #jimmy darling smut #jimmy darling x reader #ahs smut #ahs freakshow #ahs x reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader #american horror story

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

#catfa 10th anniversary challenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #barton reader #barton reader fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fafiction #steve rogers fanfic #my timid hello my clumsy goodbye #anika ann

[ninacarstairss]

Say you won’t let go

THOMASTAIR WEEK — day 4, song association @youngreckless

“Can you sing something for me?” Thomas asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

Alastair raised his head and his eyes met Thomas' over the cup of coffee he was jealously holding in his hands. A smile tugged at Alastair's sleep at the sight of the other boy's disheveled hair and the faint gleam in his hazel eyes.

It was a cloudy day and the dim light of morning flooded the room. Alastair let his gaze rest on Thomas for a moment and his lips curved upwards. They'd barely seen each other for the past week: Thomas coming to bed at ungodly hours because of his internship and his despotic boss and Alastair having classes all day long and exams coming up. It was the first time in a week they'd woken up together and could sit at the table to have breakfast at the same time.

He stood and pressed a kiss on Thomas' forehead before taking his hand and leading him to the small space they'd called the music room. Thomas was still clutching tightly his coffee and Alastair couldn't help but smile at the sight, as the taller boy sat on the stool near the piano. Alastair sat in front of the instrument too, his bare knee grazing Thomas', a simple gesture of comfort he had greatly missed in the last few days. “What do you want me to sing, azizam?” he asked, a hand going up to cup Thomas' nape, fingers brushing his hair softly.

Thomas closed his eyes at the touch and Alastair felt the other boy's posture ease under his fingers like a reflex. “Whatever you want” he answered. “I just want to hear you voice for the next three minutes. Or maybe for the next three hours.”

Thomas grinned at him and Alastair thought he might just do anything for that smile. He placed another kiss on Thomas' cheek and then positioned his hands on the piano. His mind filled with notes and melodies and he searched for something that would fit the moment. As soon as his fingers started moving, Alastair noticed Thomas recognized the song.

I met you in the dark, you lit me up You made me feel as though I was enough We danced the night away, we drank too much I held your hair back when you were throwing up

Alastair turned his head to look at Thomas and saw the mirror of his own expression on his face. He was looking at him as if he was the only person that mattered in the world. He wondered if he would ever get used to the feeling of being loved by Thomas Lightwood in such a singular way. It still felt bigger than himself, and he was ready to get lost in the vastness of that emotion.

Then you smiled over your shoulder For a minute, I was stone-cold sober I pulled you closer to my chest And you asked me to stay over I said, I already told ya I think that you should get some rest

Thomas eyes fluttered shut again for a moment, then he opened them and a smile broke across his face. A shiver went down Alastair's spine at the sight. Thomas set down his cup of coffee and started singing with Alastair.

I knew I loved you then, but you'd never know 'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go I know I needed you, but I never showed But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go, just say you won't let go

As their voices became one, the words of the song hit Alastair fully, the truth behind what they were singing. He and Thomas had started as an accident, a twist of fate that had barely any meaning, and Alastair had wondered way too often when Thomas would tire or be overwhelmed with everything that Alastair was or needed and leave. But it had been four years and Thomas had seen all his lights and shadows, he'd wanted to know the worst part of Alastair and he'd loved them all as if they were his best qualities. In those four years he had taught Alastair to let go of his fears and to accept the love Thomas wanted to give him. And somehow, it had been possible: Alastair knew Thomas wouldn't leave, just as surely as he knew he himself wouldn't.

I'll wake you up with some breakfast in bed I'll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head And I'll take the kids to school, wave them goodbye And I'll thank my lucky stars for that night

When you looked over your shoulder For a minute, I forget that I'm older I wanna dance with you right now Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever

Thomas leaned in and whispered the next lines in Alastair's hear, giggling softly and giving him a peck on the cheek.

And I swear that everyday you'll get better You make me feel this way somehow

I'm so in love with you and I hope you know Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold We've come so far, my dear, look how we've grown And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

The song went on and memories of those four years started playing in the back of his head: breakfasts in bed and late night drives around town to look for a 24h store to buy snacks or to go wonder around the deserted places in the city, days snuggled on the couch having movie marathons and their travels around the world, the day Thomas first told him he loved him and the time Alastair surprised him with a trip to Paris and kissed him on the Tour Eiffel. The time they fought for days because everything seemed impossibly complicated and difficult but, against all odds, made it through the pain and found a new balance, a new home for their love to grow into.

I'm gonna love you 'til My lungs give out I promise 'til death we part like in our vows So I wrote this song for you, now everybody knows That it's just you and me 'til we're grey and old Just say you won't let go

When the song ended they fell into giddy kisses and blissful laughter, Thomas' coffee forgotten on the piano and probably cold by then. Thomas pulled Alastair onto his legs and put his arms around him, the feeling of his warm skin like a steady certainty wrapped around Alastair's heart.

“Hey, hold on” Alastair said, pulling back from the kiss and earning a grunt of protest in return. “It's your turn now,” he added, a grin breaking across his face. “Tell me something in Spanish.”

Thomas smiled back at him and leaned in to lay a gentle kiss on his lips. “Te quiero” he murmured against Alastair's lips.

Alastair brought a hand up to touch Thomas’ silken hair and locked his eyes with the clear hazel of Thomas'. “I love you too.”

“Y voy a quedarme, siempre.”

Tag list: @cordaisya @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @surrounded-by-exquisite-clutter @stxr-thxif @icycoolslushie

The two lines in Spanish are “I love you” and “I'm going to stay, forever”

#cece writes #thomastair week #i had this idea in my head and i tried #but i’m not entirely sure i like how it turned out #i just wanted to do something really cheesy and fluffy #thomastair song association #thomastair song association day #thomastair #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #modern thomastair #tlh #the last hours #tlh fic #tsc #shadowhunters #tsc fic #userrlucie #userfandomsnett #my writing