#the pain had me thinking about atoms like crazy

[moldhoney]

bro honestly why was I even talking to someone that didn't know that three mile island 1. wasnt that bad bc of engineering and 2. happened like 7 years before chernobyl

#i'm still thinking about one of my tattoo artists #the pain had me thinking about atoms like crazy

[needle-noggins]

(CW for SA, suicidal ideation) Here we go. My favorite and simultaneously least favorite panel of Vash and Knives.

I've seen a few interpretations of this scene and before we dive into the one that really struck me, let's start with the more... chill one. We're finally introduced to the third gun of Trigun, Vash's angel arm. And the way we're introduced to it involves Knives forcing him to pull the trigger. Of course, since no one knows anything about Knives, the people of Noman's Land blame Vash for Fifth Moon, and Vash likewise blames himself (this is kinda a spoiler but if you've been paying attention, it's just par for the course). However, he's not the one who pulled the trigger, Knives is. It brings up an interesting moral question of blame - do we blame the gun (and Vash, who is being used/objectified as a weapon here), or the person who wanted it to happen? Guns don't kill people, genocidal twins do!

Now for the awful interpretation, the one that makes me cry and wish Vash was real so I could hug him and pay for his therapy. And really highlights how awful Knives is and how far he'd go for his brother in his own, fucked-up way. I touched on this in a previous post about Legato and the Murder Cafe, and the whole time I was thinking about Fifth Moon but didn't want to say anything for the sake of spoilers.

So. Pay attention to the way Vash and Knives are standing. Knives, when he first grabbed Vash's head, was standing in front of him. He moves behind him to better control him and yeah, he's still controlling him via hand on head, and now he's got his other hand gripping Vash's chest, where feathers/wings are manifesting. Knives is assaulting him. If you wanna get crazy with it and say that the angel arm is kinda phallic, you could say... yeah. This is rape. I heard that specific interpretation once and while I accepted it I also don't know if that would be generally accepted or if I'd be called out for it, so I'm trying to tread lightly here.

It also doesn't escape me that of course the angel arm has feminine features like the plants - the plants that, again, humans are exploiting for their ability to create. There's a lot of feminist commentary to be made here but many people have said it better than me. Specifically I'm thinking of this one post I saw about gender fuckery and Tristamp Vash. Anyway.

Also, the atomic bomb/black hole/sun/whatever that is in the middle... It's just so powerful. It's terrifying. The eldritch body horror here is a punch to the gut. What the fuck, Trigun? I thought this was a funky space western!!!

Oh, and here's more commentary on the following few panels:

Vashussy shot, Knives is still right behind him. Yeah, I wasn't kidding about how bad this pose is for them. Knives, you sick fuck.

Vash shoots himself in the leg (a key difference from '98 trigun, lol), because of course he does, but it doesn't free him from the arm.

The arm's getting darker/the light inside is getting lighter! Stampede did an awesome job with their interpretation of the angel arm and I don't think I would have understood it without that. Also, on my first read I didn't notice that Vash is literally levitating, which is cool, but also terrifying because ?? he's not in control of that either??

Finally. A super painful, minimalist, double-page spread. Nightow loves 'em. Vash thinks he's dying (maybe?) and he wishes he had never existed. It's not suicidal ideation per se, but he wishes he didn't exist at all because he's already caused enough suffering. This is a low for him, because he believes so strongly in the concept of the Blank Ticket. (Come on, soupy brain bitch boy, get it together!) He's a monster, it's just how he was born, and he's not in control. Very specifically too, he says "we", and then changes it to "I"... he doesn't blame Knives at all, and that's very him. I want to shake him! Stop playing the martyr, Vash!

#trimax #trigunbookclub #cw assault #cw sa #ive never tagged content warnings before please help if i didnt do it well enough #cw sui ideation #vash the stampede #millions knives #also if you say ONE WORD about plancest i will kill you with my mind because you have sorely misunderstood the point here #posting this makes me so nervous ngl #dont hate me

[espinosaurusrexex]

The Trap - Introduction

Worlds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: Welcome to the apocalypse. This is the introduction to the new world you're about to enter. Let's see what your life is like. Do me a favor and be open, and maybe there'll even be a handsome stranger to meet...

a/n: so this is heavily influenced by The 100 and Love and Monsters and I guess also Maze Runner, if it seems chaotic at times, that’s because it is. With that being said: have fun reading i’d love to hear what you think 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death and misery, loneliness, dystopia, nuclear weapon and monster stuff, obnoxiously optimistic reader (give her a chance okay)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 10th 2039

Hey Book,

Here are the things that happened today:

found a new pen (that’s great because this one is running out)

watched the acid fog from the building with the tall glass roof (pretty dope if you ask me!)

went to the west border and saw new tracks

finally got the nose right on that Gordon Ramsey sketch (it’s finished, yay!)

gave Berty a makeover

The day has been pretty sweet. I’m thinking of going out tonight to watch the meteor shower. Hope I don’t die.

Anyway, see ya tomorrow!

   ~You know who :)

The notebook closed with a loud thud that made even you twitch. Your eyes went to the basketball on the shelf above the makeshift bed.

“Sorry, Berty.” The ball didn’t respond, obviously. Its plastic wig shifted slightly further over the marker eyes, making it seem all crooked and funny looking. You weren’t crazy. You just preferred not to talk to yourself. 

A look at the window told you that it had gone dark by now. The weather conditions weren’t too great for another acid fog so your plan was good to go. You grabbed your backpack and headed out to the cliffs where you had the best view. Ever since the apocalypse started, there were a lot more stars visible at night. Half the population had been wiped out with the Hydra nukes and the rest played survivor with the mutated animals roaming the earth due to the atomic bombs that had been fired on that day. 

You remembered it vividly actually: Bright beams shooting through the sky and then it rained down like hellfire. Green glowing stripes covered the horizon from where you looked down onto the city.

The world hadn’t been that great to begin with to be honest. People were suffering, water and food supplies had shifted into the negative, and don’t even get started on climate. Humans had collectively decided that their planet was going to waste anyway. So, where was the harm in a little more destruction, right?

It’s not like you or any other normal citizen had had a chance to decide on another outcome anyway. The united governments of the world had been infiltrated by an organization with fucked up values and no sense for common human decency. They didn't care that their bombs would wipe out half of the world’s population. Hell, you’d be surprised if they even considered this an argument for their ‘cons’ column. But, hey, it had one benefit after all: if this was the worst it could get, there was nothing left to lose.

You kicked open the door of the buried school bus that had become your temporary home for a while now. Temporary in the sense that there was no way of knowing what would happen or when something would attack. You tried to make them all as cozy as possible though. Berty was a big part of that attempt. The painted basketball had become a loyal companion in your ever-shifting habitats. And even though it was a pain to transport a so unfortunately shaped object, you would never dare leave it behind. 

The humid evening air hit you like a broken fan. It was springtime, but that had stopped to matter many years ago. The weather merely shifted between scorching hot days and bearable nights. Though the wintertime was making being outside a little more doable. The trees hung low over your head when you stepped past the traps you had laid out around your home. You lived at the edge of the forest, which wasn’t the most secure place of all the ones you’ve had so far, but it was a little cooler. Most of the dangerous things out there hid several miles from the tree lines anyway. 

A dark sky stretched over your head as your feet dangled off the cliff by the forest. You were munching off an old can of beans that you had found on your stroll through the cities as the bright streams of light shot through the sky. It was beautiful and thrilling. Teetering you on the edge of remembering the very day that made this whole shit show go down. The sky was lit up back then too, but it wasn’t half as beautiful as this.

You could have sat like this for hours. The meteors wouldn’t stop passing until the sun rose, but there was a danger of being tired in broad daylight in this world. You couldn’t risk strolling through the morning with half a working brain. Especially because the morning brought a routine acid fog with its sunlight. You took a look at the tactical watch on your wrist. It was 3:30 am - Probably best to head back to safety.

As you stepped through the dried ground, you hummed a song from the old record in your bus. It didn’t work great and it was broken in several places which had you always listening to a slightly messed-up remix of the actual song, but you liked it anyway. Close to the bus, however, there was rustling from the side. Your body went into surviving mode immediately. There was a routine: hide, listen, escape. Only idiots fought whatever was out there. 

So that’s what you did.

The tree you hid behind was wide enough to cover you whole, which gave you easy access to sneak your head past the trunk and see what was making the noise. It came from about 20 feet before the buried bus, but there was nothing to be seen. The rustling continued though and as you stepped forwards from your cover, you noticed that it came from underneath. Something had fallen into your trap! It was foolproof of course, but you still approached it with care, fearfully and intrigued all together as to what you had caught this time... well, it was the first time here to be perfectly honest. Even more exciting to say the least.

Your feet crunched the dried leaves beneath you as a mumbled curse reached your ears. That was weird. Last time you checked, monsters didn’t talk. You were even more surprised, however, to find a broad man tangled in the hole you had dug outside your home. Of course, a person had been stupid enough to walk into your trap. You had been so excited about something more dangerous. 

The man had not noticed you standing above the hole just yet. He was still working with the net you had splayed out beneath the fallen leaves, too busy cursing his life away in the dirty opening. You cleared your throat after a minute, though. And as amusing as the whole scene had been, the man looking up at you wiped the smirk off your face immediately. He was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes gleamed up in the moonshine, a deep frown on his face as soon as the surprise to see you had faded.

“You got caught in my trap.” You said blankly, still captured by his face. You had not seen another person in nearly a month. It was strange, to say the least. That’s why you weren’t really expecting your mouth to say anything smart.

“This is supposed to be a trap?” The brown-haired man huffed before cutting through the last rope to free him from his restraints.

“Well you can’t get out, can you?” There was a short silence in which you caught the slightest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“If you wanted to catch a monster with that, you wouldn’t be making such snarky comments. It’s barely deep enough for them.”

Anger crept up your neck. Who was this stranger to not only fall into your - awesome - intruder trap but also criticize your work even though he was the idiot stuck in it? “Why do you think I wanted to trap monsters? Maybe my trap was for people, which, in that case, it is brilliant.”

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled. 

“Oh come on give me a little credit, I only had spare materials.”

There was the confused glare again, and you couldn’t really place it just yet.“Yeah, yeah. Trap’s great now get me out.”

“That wasn’t genuine.” Your arms crossed before your chest, but you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips. This was fun.

“You know what’s gonna be genuine? My foot in your ass once I get out of here.” Oh, not so fun.

“That's not a really good way to make me help you, you know?” You were about to step away when you heard him sigh deeply beneath you. A triumphant smirk appeared on your face before you held your head over the hole again.

“Can you please help me out of this genius trap?” The Brunette was rolling his eyes, but it was good enough for you - after all, you didn’t want to make enemies just yet.

“Why of course! I love people that appreciate good handy work!”

You nodded appreciatively and reached for the net he held your way. It took a little bit to get enough momentum but then he jumped and dug his boots into the soil walls and within seconds, the stranger was pulled up from the ground. 

“Drop the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

Now that he was standing in front of you like that, you noticed how tall he was, and built, too. It was a wonder you had managed to pull his weight out of there now that you thought about it. He was really handsome, too. His dark hair fell into his face and his eyes were bright blue, staring down at you with a gloomy expression. It didn’t scare you, though. You were more... fascinated by him, really.

He looked at you for a second, and the gears were literally turning behind his eyes. But he caught himself quickly, shaking his head and making his way out of the forest. You weren’t ready to have him leave, though. It was rare to meet people now, and this one seemed entertaining enough.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Away.” You barely heard him over the heavy footsteps he pressed into the ground.

“You can’t go!”

That made him stop. The stranger turned around with an unfazed expression, his shoulders hanging low with annoyance, but you wouldn’t let up. “And why’s that?”

Shit, you hadn’t thought it would get this far. Your hands wrung the net as you stood there looking for an explanation. But the guy turned around with a condescending clicking of his tongue. “Wait! You haven’t told me your name.” You shuffled over to him in haste, you steps faster than his, but it was difficult to catch up to him, still.

“I don’t have to.”

“You do, actually. It’s a rule.” He stopped again, and you almost fell at the abrupt halt.

“A rule,” he repeated in disbelief, his face still unimpressed, but he was quite pretty this way.

You smiled. “Yup. You fall into my trap, you tell me your name.” To be honest, you were a little proud at how fast you had come up with the idea, but it seemed the stranger was still not impressed. He just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at you almost amused.

“That's not a rule.”

“It’s my rule.” Was that a tiny smile creeping onto his features? You liked it - looked way better than those broody anger lines.

Then he huffed and shook his head. “Bucky.”

“Gesundheit,” you answered immediately, but that seemed to stick that annoyed look right back onto his handsome face.

“No. Bucky is my name.” Oops.

“Oh. Sorry.” You tried it out in your head, then. And it suited him quite nicely. It was a little odd but witty - just like him. 

“Whatever.” His arms untangled before his broad chest and Bucky looked ready to leave again. You didn’t want that, though.

“Would... uh.. would you like to come in?” Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? Your hands were a little sweaty, but talking to someone that actually responded felt so good...

You earned another look with that question. Really, you’d already gotten used to those in the three minutes you knew him - seemed to be his M.O. 

“What?” He wasn’t confused this time, at least you didn’t think so. It sounded more like he hadn’t heard you.

“You know... be my guest.” A bright smile spread on your lips, but Bucky wasn’t buying it, and frankly, you were running out of ideas to keep him here. Normally, people were happy to see others around here, but Bucky? He didn’t seem to like talking very much.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

Your eyes found the ground as you heard his steps distancing from you again. “Oh, ok.” You mumbled to yourself, and with a last wash of hope, you called out again. “Will I see you again?”

“No.” He was already by the tree line, now. And Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to run back the distance in slow-mo like you had seen in those old films. 

It didn’t discourage you, though. “Okay, you know where to find me!”

“Not gonna visit you!”

“See ya soon!” You waved and bit back a triumphant smile when you heard him chuckle before he disappeared out of the woods. 

Hey, Book, It’s me again.

And, man, what a great day!

more…

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @blackhawkfanatic

#megs imagines #worlds collide #apocalypse au #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x reader

[burningvelvet]

excerpts from lord byron’s letters that read like tumblr posts from the 1800s

(diary version: https://www.tumblr.com/burningvelvet/708562718092836864/random-excerpts-from-lord-byrons-diaries-that)

“We of the craft (poets) are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.”

“Remember me to yourself when drunk. I am not worth a sober thought.”

“Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go, it is useless to inquire. In the midst of myriads of the living & the dead worlds — stars, systems, infinity — why should I be anxious about an atom?”

“I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.”

“I have imbibed such a love for money that I keep some sequins in a drawer to count, and cry over them once a week.”

“I do not believe in any religion. I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.”

“Venice and I agree very well - in the mornings I study Armenian, and in the evenings I go out sometimes - and indulge in coition always.”

“The great object of life is sensation — to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming — to battle — to travel — to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment.”

“If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.”

“When I am ill or unlucky I philosophize as well as I can.”

“Cant is so much stronger than cunt.”

"I have such a detestation of cant ... that I make myself appear rather worse than better than I am."

“There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.”

“Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.”

“I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion, and that there is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?”

“Why should Queens not be whores? every Whore is a Quean.” [Context: 1. Queen Caroline was being tried for adultery 2. “Quean” was another word for “prostitute”]

“But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.”

“To be perfectly original one should think much and read little, and this is impossible, for one must have read before one has learnt to think.”

“I doubt sometimes whether a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me - yet I sometimes long for it.”

“I think the worst woman that ever existed would have made a man of very passable reputation. They are all better than us, and their faults such as they are must originate with ourselves.”

“I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law.”

“Hate is by far the greatest pleasure; men love in haste, but detest in leisure.”

“Like other parties of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then disputatious, then unintelligible, then altogethery, then inarticulate, and then drunk.”

“In the last two years I have been at Venice, I have spent about five thousand pounds, and I need not have spent a third of this, had it not been that I have a passion for women which is expensive in its variety every where, but less so in Venice than in other cities.”

“I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long, – I am such a strange mélange of good and evil, that it would be difficult to describe me.”

[on a lover, Margarita Cogni] “I forgot to mention that she was very devout, and would cross herself if she heard the prayer-time strike — sometimes when that ceremony did not appear to be much in unison with what she was then about.”

[on his future wife] “I am quite irresolute — and undecided — if I were sure of myself (not of her) I would go — but I am not — & never can be — and what is still worse I have no judgement — & less common sense than an infant — this is not affected humility…”

“I was the fashion when she first came out; I had the character of being a great rake, and was a great dandy — both of which young ladies like. She married me from vanity, and the hope of reforming and fixing me.”

“I read ‘Glenarvon,’ too, by Caro Lamb — God damn!”

"I have seen three men's heads and a child's foreskin cut off in Italy.”

“What could I do? – a foolish girl – in spite of all I could say or do – would come after me... I could not exactly play the Stoic with a woman who had scrambled 800 miles to unphilosophize me.”

“I have fallen in love, which, next to falling into the canal (which would be of no use, as I can swim), is the best or the worst thing I could do.”

(on the possibility of spies being sent for him during the Greek Revolution) “If these Gentlemen have any undue interest and discover my weak side — viz — a propensity to be governed — and were to set a pretty woman or a clever woman about me — with a turn for political or any other sort of intrigue — why — they would make a fool of me — no very difficult matter probably even without such an intervention. But if I can keep passion — at least that passion — out of the question (which may be the more easy as I left my heart in Italy) they will not weather me with quite so much facility.”

[on a Venetian lover, Marianna Segatti] “I am sure if I put a poniard into the hand of this one, she would plunge it where I told her, — and into me, if I offended her. I like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should have preferred Medea to any woman that ever breathed.”

[in response to a fan letter] “You tell me that you wished to know me better, because you liked my writing. I think you must be aware that a writer is in general very different from his productions, and always disappoints those who expect to find in him qualities more agreeable than those of others; I shall certainly not be lessened in my vanity, as a scribbler, by the reflection that a work of mine has given you pleasure; and, to preserve the impression in its favour, I will not risk your good opinion, by inflicting my acquaintance upon you.”

#and indulge in coition always. #literature #english literature #aesthetic #dark academia #poetry #lord byron #romanticism #byronposting #writing #history #funny #quotes #reading #lit #letters #1800s #byron #humour #meme #history meme #litblr #literature quotes #books #quote #words #writers #art #literary history

[merv606]

I kinda wish there was a one-off chapter in Mercy from the POV of a long time guard who’s on a first name basis with Terry.

And over the many years he’s known him, he’s never once seen him take a threat in stride. Laugh it off maybe, but never actually back down from one.

Until this man he brought home.

In all his years, only this guy has bitten, scratched, burned, almost stabbed, and threatened to cut off Terry’s dick… and gotten away with it.

He’s never seen him take a hint of attitude from anyone.

I guess love really does make you crazy-ER.

Ask and ye shall receive.

First time that Daniel throws something at Terry, Tom, the guard on Daniel duty that day, as they have taken to calling it, thinks this is it. Already mentally preparing the steps to have the clean team assembled; they’re about to have to dispose of a body.

It’s only been a few weeks since this turn of events, being summoned here for this, and Tom had been the first one allowed into the room, normally standing vigil outside instead.

There’s something about the man though, and Terry himself for that matter, his behaviour around him and about him that Tom can’t quite put his finger on. None of them can. It’s like Terry becomes another version of himself; a version no one has ever seen let alone can recognize.

Short and SFW

Despite it all, no matter what Daniel dares to dish out to awards Terry, whether it be vitriol and threats, or attempted physical assault, Terry does nothing, simply taking whatever Daniel dishes out towards him.

Then there is the attitude he gives Terry that he would never stand for from anyone else. Attitude that, when given to Terry by people in the past, Tom has broken teeth over.

But now here, Daniel already at the beginning of what atom can tell is going to be another meltdown, Terry simply ducks out of the way, the glass shattering against the wall. He doesn’t even concern himself with it, all his attention on the smaller yet very irate man, speaking softly and calmly, like Terry’s trying to both not spook him while also trying to soothe him, approaching slowly.

Daniel stands stock still, watching Terry inch closer.

Next thing they both know, the smaller man is moving faster than either of them were expecting, trying to dodge past Terry, but Terry is quicker, easily stopping him from leaving, but in the ensuing melee, a fist catches Terry in the cheek.

Spitting and snarling like an enraged animal, Terry tries to subdue Daniel without, from what Tom can tell, causing any harm, despite the fact that a small cut is already visible on Terry’s cheek, appearing from where the fist caught him.

Clearly not attacking back, only defending.

“At least you’re showing some spirit,” Terry remarks almost delightedly, once he has Daniel on the ground, his legs trapped under his, his arms trapped under the tight hold Terry has him in.

Tom knows better than to step in.

They are to let Terry handle him, and only intervene if necessary, and even then there are strict rules, rules that, in the ten years he has worked for Terry Silver, were never given for any prior situation or person.

So he stands, watching Terry quickly get the upper hand. Watches as the older man smiles - smiles - when Daniel tries to rear back and hit him with the back of his head.

“I need you to calm down for me ….”

It has the opposite effect, of course, so much so that they fall over on their sides, but Terry is still holding on.

The guard grabs a sedative, they’re all required to carry them, knowing Terry will not be able to get his from his pocket. Once he gets the nod of approval from Terry he steps forward, quickly injecting Daniel who is too busy trying to break free to maim Terry that he doesn’t even notice. That is until the familiar feeling of a needle pricking his skin registers.

For his part, Daniel manages to sink his teeth into Tom’s hand, who, despite the pain and urge to back hand him for it, doesn’t react.

Part of those strict rules are that they, none of the guards, are to react or hurt Daniel, under any circumstance, unless it it to prevent Daniel from hurting himself. One guard used a bit too much force, leaving slight bruises on Daniel’s arm and he was never seen again.

“I’m going to kill you,” Daniel says evenly, in direct odds to how hard he is struggling against the older man’s oppressively claustrophobic hold.

The guard doesn’t react - it isn’t the first time this man has threatened to kill Terry either.

Any other situation and Daniel would have been taken care of already, and the guard would have gotten his for the teeth marks in his hand, courtesy of the little shit. He supposes though, were situations to be reversed, he wouldn’t be taking it nearly as well.

“I know you’ll try,” Terry chuckles, a quick kiss placed to the mop of his hair, his struggling slowing down, movements more and more sluggish, until it stops entirely as the drugs take over entirely.

Tom wouldn’t say Terry is cooing to the younger man the entire time - Terry Silver doesn’t do such a thing - but he can’t say Terry isn’t doing that exact thing.

“So stubborn,” he murmurs. “Going to fight me at every point aren’t you?” There is a blissful look on Terry’s face that Tom doesn’t think he’s even seen before; a peace there that doesn’t make sense, given the situation. He seems completely content, like a man who has everything he’s every wanted.

Terry loosens his grip and Daniel pulls an arm free, but he’s too out of it to do anything, and Terry laces their hands together, bringing their clasped hands to his mouth, kissing each finger on Daniel’s hand.

Once he’s sure Daniel is out, Terry picks up the smaller man, laying him gently down on the bed.

“Need that looked at? Tom asks as Terry finally emerges, a suspiciously long amount of time later, Tom having stepped out as soon as Terry had laid him down on the bed.

“No it’s fine - he’s given me worse,” and Terry chuckles again.

Tom wonders if he’s fallen into the twilight zone.

A decade he’s worked for Terry, and done some crazy shit because if it, and he has never seen anything like this. Never seen Terry react to something Like this.

Terry has certainly has done worse for less; far worse for much much less.

For lack of a better word, Terry seems besotted with the smaller man; obsessed in a way Tom has never seen.

“I’m just glad he’s showing signs of life. He’s always been a handful. It’s the temper. Seems it’s only become worse the older he gets,” and that expression is back on his face, a happiness Tom has never seen on his face before, and that tone it’s so damn fond.

“I’m going to feel it tomorrow though, and you should get that checked out though,” Terry says, finally noticing the damage inflicted on Tom by his boy.

Tom nods. He also knows there will be a handsome bonus in his pay for following the rules and not retaliating, as he would have with anyone else.

“Are you able to do the night rotation?” Terry asks as he locks the door, before moving away as soon as another guard comes to stand watch. “I have a feeling he’s going to be no easier to control when he wakes up and I trust you the most around him. We must be careful that …”

“He doesn’t get hurt. Yes sir. That’s no problem.” They fall in step together. “I’ll wear gloves,” he smirks.

Terry claps him on the shoulder with a laugh. “That would be advisable. Maybe I’ll do the same.”

They head back to the control room, video monitors with various camera feeds, Tom prepared to go over the security details surrounding Daniel and the house, as they do every night.

#ask #I got an ask 🤩 #cobra kai #daniel larusso #karate kid #terry silver #silverusso #silverrusso #mercy is a sharp knife

[bobbole]

I know we have well and truly Wuthered the boys beyond repair. 😅 But I'm curious, what novels would you equate your other favorite ships with?

@windsweptinred Emily Brontë, our queen of the Whutered Boys and honorary president of the Corinthiel fan club 🤍💚🤍💚 I'm convinced now that Heathcliff has small mouths instead of eyes, but that's another story 😅

Answering your question, my dear, was really difficult because for each pairing I could think of an infinite number of titles and couldn't decide! Going 'off the top of my head', I would say that for Dream x the Corinthian, the novel that first made me think of them is Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. There are passages that simply scream 'corintheus' to me!!

“You know how they say you only hurt the ones you love? Well, it works both ways.”

“How everything you ever love will reject you or die. Everything you ever create will be thrown away. Everything you're proud of will end up as trash.”

“Hey, you created me! I didn't create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. Take some responsibility!”

and I could go on! What is Tyler Durden if not a black mirror? The relationship between him and the protagonist reminds me so much of the one between Dream and Corinthian!! 👌👌

For my little hearts Dream x Lucienne I return instead to the Brontë sisters and say Jane Eyre :) I was watching Cary Fukunaga's film a few weeks ago and thought Morpheus would be a perfect Mr Rochester and Lucienne a sublime Jane! There is something about Jane's proud, dignified and sensible character that reminds me a lot of Lucienne 💖💖

"Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear."

"I have little left in myself -- I must have you. The world may laugh -- may call me absurd, selfish -- but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame"

"I loved him very much - more than I could trust myself to say - more than words had power to express"

Gooodddd!!! Please, sedate meeee!!! Once again, a Brontë lady wants to kill me 💘 💘

Finally, for the Corinthian x Lucienne....for them it's more complicated, because on the one hand I see their relationship as like in a sit-comedy, on the other hand as a subtle tension destined to remain unexpressed: for this reason I think about this poem by Federico García Lorca rather than a novel

I did not mean. I did not want to tell you anything.

I saw in your eyes two crazy little trees. Breeze, laughter and gold.

They wiggled.

I did not mean. I did not want to tell you anything.

What about you my dear? 😊 Which novels do you most like to associate with the ships of your heart? 💖💖💖💖

#blorbology #ships&novels #corinthiel #corintheus #morphienne #corinthienne

[armed-with-knitting-needles]

DP Side Hoes Week 2023 Day 5! Fright Knight/Invasion! This is out really late, but better late than never, right? I had so many ideas with this that just went everywhere and it took forever to write. At least I now have an idea for how it's going to end.

Ao3 Link, then full story.

Tucker trudged down the stairs to meet Danny at the end of his driveway. He was not looking forward to school. English class was going to be hell. Tucker was honestly thinking of skipping, except that would probably make things even more awkward. To make matters worse, Danny was going to be more overly protective than usual, though not without good reason. 

“‘Sup, Tuck,” greeted Danny. “Have any more issues last night?” There was a nervous energy coming off of him in waves. Tucker resigned himself to Danny’s hovering. Or, at least, most of it.

“You’re hovering, dude. Literally,” he said instead of answering. 

“Oh, right, sorry.” Danny put his feet back on the ground. “So?”

“Yeah, I caught another one around midnight. It was watching me sleep,” Tucker shuddered at the memory of waking up staring directly into a single giant eyeball. “Seriously, how does being ghost king translate to being stalked?”

“Beats me. All I know is I beat the last one apparently.”

“Actually,” said Tucker, “No one has told me anything about this kingship thing. They just want me to go to a coronation. Is that weird? I mean, I know it’s weird, but is that weird for ghosts?”

“Honestly, this tracks with what I’ve seen from ghosts… They don’t start giving you information until halfway through the fight.”

“I was afraid of that.”

The rest of the walk to school was silent. Tucker could practically feel Danny thinking. This wasn’t a problem he could just punch and Tucker knew his friend was feeling protective. It seemed to be a thing. At least Danny wasn’t the one dealing with Observants. Speaking of. 

“Hey, dude,” Tucker started to ask just as they arrived at school, “Could you trade thermoses with me?”

Danny looked over to him in confusion, “What, why?”

“I have three Observants in here and I don’t think we ever actually tested what the max capacity was on these things.”

“I just hope sending them back into the ghost zone isn’t going to lead to more trouble. Observants are organized and vicious.” Danny looked tense and started to hover again. Tucker put a hand on his shoulder and pushed down until Danny’s feet were touching the ground. 

“I just need to figure out how to get them to go after someone who doesn’t have a history of going power crazy.”

“Tucker…” 

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” The look on Danny’s face said that he didn’t believe him. Thankfully, the bell rang before any painful discussions could take place. And Tucker had science first period whereas Danny had Spanish. Usually, he was disappointed by that fact. Today, he was thankful.

—

The Fright Night appeared halfway through Mr. Trent’s lecture on atomic structure. For a few seconds time seemed to be frozen. Ice pumped through Tucker’s veins. This could not be happening.  

“Tucker Foley,” the Fright Knight boomed, “Come with me to meet your destiny.”

The classroom erupted into chaos. Tucker’s classmates were screaming around him, scrambling over desks and trying to flee out the doors and windows. Mr. Trent was getting the fire extinguisher in what Tucker was sure would be a reckless attempt at distraction. Danny was across the school and probably wouldn’t get there in time.

Well, there was one way to solve this, but it was not happening here. 

“Okay, no.” Tucker said in a voice that was definitely not shaking, “How about you come with me instead and we have a nice chat that isn’t going to turn into a kidnapping?”

“What?” the Fright Knight asked. 

Tucker breathed in and out. The last of his classmates had fled and it looked like Mr. Trent had decided that survival trumped any possibility of heroism. That was good. Hopefully, everyone would just forget what the Fright Knight said upon entering.

“I have questions and I’m betting you have answers. But we’re not doing this here. There’s some room in the basement with some seats and stuff.” And no witnesses, Tucker added to himself.

The Fright Knight stared at him. And kept staring. Finally, just as Tucker was thinking of bolting, he said, “Fine.” Abruptly, Tucker felt himself being picked up and made intangible. Well, that was one way to avoid other people. 

The basement space was a tiny bit of room in the basement storage space with all the equipment that the school no longer had a use for, but weren’t worth trying to deal with the disposal paperwork for. He, Danny, and Sam had laid claim to it by putting in some camping chairs and a microwave. The teachers knew about it, but didn’t seem to care as long as they kept it clean and didn’t smoke or drink. Besides, he knew Lancer used their microwave whenever there was a line in the teacher’s lounge. 

The Fright Knight set him down near the camping chairs and Tucker did not ask how he knew exactly where it was. Instead he brushed himself and took a seat. The Fright Knight remained standing. 

“My Liege,” he started and Tucker did not like that. He did not like that at all. It sounded way too much like Hotep Ra. 

“No,” Tucker said, voice firm, “I am not your liege. I am not your king. I am just some human boy that won a game of Mario Kart.”

The Fright Knight stared at him with burning eyes. “You may not accept me as your vassal, but you are my king. You are all ghost’s king. You must accept it.”

“Sit,” Tucker said, gesturing to the camping chair to his right, “I’m sure we can work this out.” 

The Fright Knight sat. The camp chair squeaked. Tucker was so in over his head. He still remembered the nightmare zone from Halloween. That had been terrible. And then there was that whole thing with Pariah Dark. Wait.

“Didn’t you try and stage a coup with Vlad against the last ghost king?” Tucker asked, very suddenly not sure if being down here alone was a good idea. 

“Well. Er.”

“Like, I specifically remember you going with the other ghosts to fight Pariah Dark.”

“Well. You see-”

“You know,” said Tucker, hoping that maybe this time he could actually get out of this horrible situation, “If you want the throne, you can have it.”

“I would never betray you, my king. I’m- What?” 

“I don’t want the throne. You can have it.”

The Fright Knight just sat there and Tucker could only wonder if he’d broken the ghost. And honestly, he could understand his hesitation. It probably sounded like a trick. It would have probably been a trick if Tucker wasn’t so desperate. But, out of all the ghosts they'd fought, the Fright Knight was not the worst choice. Even if he decided to do something crazy like invade, they had an easy win scenario. The only trick would be finding a pumpkin for the sword out of season. 

“You want to give the throne to me?” the Fright Knight finally asked. 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Tucker sighed. “Look, man,” he said, “I’m not good with power. You could even say I’m evil with power. Just about anyone would be better than me and at least you're actually a ghost.”

The Fright Knight nodded solemnly. “I understand.” He knelt before Tucker. “It is a mighty responsibility for one so young. It is no wonder you don’t want it.”

Tucker looked away awkwardly. 

“Now, bequeath your power to me, so I may begin my reign.”

“Um.” Tucker realized he might not have thought this through all the way. “I don’t actually know how to do that?” 

“You just-” the Fright Knight paused, looking lost. 

“I just?” Tucker asked, leaning forward. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but it was the only one he had. 

The Fright Knight tilted his head and stood. “I don’t think anyone has actually given away the title of ghost king before.”

Tucker groaned. Why was this never easy? Did he have to lose a challenge? He guessed that would work. But, what could they play that wouldn’t put him in the hospital and that he knew the Fright Knight could win? Preferably it would also be close so he didn’t have to worry about being spotted with one of the ghosts that had invaded town. 

The Fright Knight was pacing. Tucker needed to solve this fast before the ghost decided to just beat him into the ground and call it good. There. In the corner. There was a game of table soccer hidden behind a stack of out of date biology books that Ms. Hernandez was trying to claim were lost. That would work. 

“Hey, help me get that table out of the corner.”

“What?” the Fright Knight asked, obviously confused. 

“If I can’t just hand it over, you’re going to beat me in something. Table soccer is easy. As long as I don’t try, there’s no way you’ll lose.” Of course, Tucker had thought the same thing about Connect Four.

Before Tucker had even gotten started trying to tug the soccer table out of the pile of stuff, the Fright Knight just phased it out and placed it in the center of the room. One of the legs was broken, but that was easily fixed with a couple of textbooks. Thankfully the little wooden soccer balls were in a container in one of the goals. At least they wouldn’t have to go hunting for those. 

“Okay,” Tucker said as the Fright Knight took a position at the opposite side of the table, “The goal of the game is to hit this little wooden ball with the little dudes on the sticks to get it into your opponent's goal. Every time you score a goal you move one of the wooden counter things in front of you to the other side. The first one to move all the counters to the other side wins.”

“Isn’t this too childish to decide the fate of the Infinite Realms?” The Fright Knight looked at the game dubiously. 

Tucker was unfazed. “I won in a game of Mario Kart.”

The Fright Knight nodded. “I accept your challenge.” 

That was a weird way to put it, but whatever. Tucker put the ball in the center of the board. He nudged it slightly toward one of the Fright Knight’s players. The Fright Knight wrenched the bar against the other side of the table, almost breaking it and missing wildly in the process. Tucker winced. Okay, maybe this wouldn't be such an easy loss. 

“Maybe a little gentler? It doesn’t take much force.”

The Fright Knight nodded and Tucker could feel the determination coming off him in waves. Tucker nudged the ball again. The Fright Knight hit it back towards Tuckers goal. It bounced off the far side, but Tucker hit it back into his own goal with his goalie. The Fright Knight hesitantly moved a wooden counter. Tucker nodded and put the ball back in the center. 

“So,” Tucker said as he resigned himself to a game of actively helping the Fright Knight win, “What does the ghost king actually do?”

The Fright Knight paused and Tucker stopped the ball from rolling into the ghost’s goal. “He acts as final arbitrator. Someone for ghosts to go to when disputes get out of hand. Historically, he has also subjugated most of the ghost zone.”

Tucker chose to ignore that last part. “A final arbitrator? Don’t ghosts usually solve disputes by fighting?”

“Pariah Dark was the last, well second to last, ghost king. He was locked away in the sarcophagus of forever sleep for a very long time.” The Fright Knight scored another goal and moved another counter. 

“That makes sense. Anything else?”

“Well, sometimes he makes or enforces laws. And he has an army he may use to invade any realm he pleases.”

Tucker once again chose to ignore that last part as he nudged the ball towards his side of the field. “Cool. Cool. And how do you actually become ghost king. Because, I won in Mario Kart, but any time I lose it doesn’t seem to count.”

The Fright Knight paused again and Tucker wasn’t quite able to make a save before the ball rolled into his goal. He reluctantly moved a counter. “Well, first a challenge is issued either, usually by the rival, but sometimes by the king.” Tucker nodded. From his experience that could be as simple as saying “You’re on” or “Sure”, which seemed a bit casual, but whatever. “Then, the challenge happens and the winner is the ghost king.” Right, Tucker had figured out that much on his own.  

“But, how did I win in the first place? I didn’t challenge Danny for kingship. And why can’t he win it back.”

The Fright Knight stared at him and Tucker shot the ball back to his own goal. The Fright Knight wasn’t moving so Tucker moved his counter for him. “Any challenge to the king is a challenge to the throne unless some other prize is decided on. Nobody would challenge the ghost king if they didn’t want the throne,” the Fright Knight said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was not. 

“And why can’t Danny get it back?” Tucker dropped the ball on the field and hit it again. At this point he was just playing a one sided game against himself. 

“It’s to prevent constant regime changes.” The Fright Knight was looking at him like a very stupid child. Tucker decided he did not care. “It’s the same reason a rival cannot challenge again for a century.” Great, well, that limited his options if this didn’t work out. 

“Okay, no take-backsies, time-limit between rematches. Anything else?”

“Yes, a servant to the throne cannot-” The Fright Knight suddenly groaned and dropped to his knees. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Of course, this is going to work,” said Tucker, willfully ignoring the implications of “servant to the throne” as he scored another goal for the Fright Knight.

“You, don’t understand,” the Fright Knight wailed, “I’m-”

It was at that moment Danny decided to come barreling through the ceiling and into the Fright Knight, destroying the soccer table in the process. 

“Danny, no!” Tucker yelled far too late. It wouldn’t work anyway. 

“Stay away from Tucker you melodramatic Halloween decoration!” Danny growled and Tucker just knew this was going to escalate. The Fright Knight pulled himself free from the books and blasted Danny with his sword. Danny flew back into a pile of old overhead projectors. The Fright Knight widened his stance as Danny drew himself up, hands and eyes glowing. 

Nope. This was not going to escalate. Tucker threw himself in the middle of the fight, going against every instinct telling him to run.  “Stop!”

They both froze. “Tucker?” Danny asked and there was still too much growl in his voice for this to be safe. 

“You completely destroyed our game!” Tucker yelled, trying to throw Danny off enough that he would calm down. 

“Game?” It worked. Oh, thank God it worked. “Why were you playing a game with the Fright Knight?” 

Well, that was a question Tucker did not want to answer. “You see,” he started glancing around desperately for an excuse.

“Tucker,” Danny said, unimpressed, “Were you trying to get out of being ghost king by passing it off to the Fright Knight?”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” the Fright Knight interjected glumly before Tucker could come up with a response. “I am already bound to the throne. I can never become king. The king before Pariah put it in place to prevent any more coups.”

“Dude,” Tucker groused, “Couldn’t you have remembered that before we started playing table soccer?”

“Oh, why don’t you try remembering every detail of a defunct monarchy after thousands of years trapped in a pumpkin? See how you do.”

“Guys, knock it off,” Danny said looking thoroughly annoyed. “Tucker, were you seriously trying to make the Fright Knight the ghost king? Do you not remember the whole forever transforming the world into a realm of nightmares situation? You know, the one where you were sent to the Nightmare Realm?”

Tucker rubbed the back of his head, “I mean, yeah, but he can be trapped in a pumpkin. How bad could it be?”

Danny gave him a flat look. “Do you remember how hard it was to get Pariah back into his sarcophagus?” 

“It doesn’t matter now.” The Fright Knight moaned from where he was now sitting on the floor, “I’ll never have my realm of nightmares with a human on the throne.” 

Danny paused. “Why was he even here?”

“We sent him.” Tucker jumped. There was a group of three Observants. Danny’s hands lit up again and Tucker was tempted to just let him beat them up and thermos them. But, that hadn’t been working. He didn’t want to wake up staring into an eyeball again. 

“Danny, no,” Tucker said calmly. He looked towards the Observants. “I think we need to talk. All of us.” As he said that, he heard a door close above them. Probably Wes again. At least no one would believe him. “Not here, though.”

Danny nodded. “My house?” he asked.

Tucker thought about it. On one hand, it was a ghost hunters’ house. On the other, the portal was right there and they’d have all the weapons they needed if things went south. Tucker nodded. “Yeah, your house.”

#dp side hoes week 2023 #danny phantom #danny fenton #tucker foley #fright knight

[hologramcowboy]

https://at.tumblr.com/hologramcowboy/httpstwittercomditchlilytigerstatus162733189/wnyptttbl66d

I saw this photographer complaining about your use of the picture, too. Reading the comments was just …

Instead of calling someone a creepy conspiracy theorist because they interpret a photo (and real life comments and actions) differently than themselves, maybe they should try looking at things from another angel. This obsession with seeing Jensen as perfect and constantly having the time of his life is ridiculous and points to a huge bias. I’ll be honest, the particular picture in question, where Jensen looks in pain, could be him "living the music" but to me, he does not look like he’s just grooving. Also, there is video of the concert, so it’s not like people’s opinions are only based on photos.

The last time Jensen performed at a con, he was yelling, not singing, and yet they praise his amazing performance. Jensen has a lovely voice when he isn’t straining it, and is a good performer (usually), but that doesn’t actually mean he is an amazing, Uber talented singer. He was very good as Dean, but to say he never had over the top moments or ones that didn’t quite connect, is just not true. Saying he’s liberal and a huge ally is a huge stretch seeing as he is very closed mouthed on politics in general (I don’t actually blame him there, as if I were famous I’d want to appeal to the widest audience and would stick to discussing my art). Saying he likes Destiel now because he learned the hard way that criticizing the stupid ship gets him outright hate and death threats, is embracing willful ignorance. Jensen and Danneel can only be viewed as couples goals, despite the fact that their body language screens anything but affection. Jared is the bad guy because he cracked the illusion that Jensen is a perfect friend, professional and gentleman, and had a "tantrum" on Twitter because he didn’t let Jebsen off the hook or bail him out, for once, for his shitty actions around the prequel. Jensen supports Ukrainian and really cares about the issue, despite the fact that he starred in a commercial promoting Atomic Heart. Anyway, my point is the man is not perfect, no one is, but as soon as they see any criticism, they call the person delivering it crazy, a hater, or a miserable person who is just projecting.

I love my family, but that doesn’t mean I think it or each family member (myself included) is without flaws.

I started watching Supernatural as a Dean and Jensen fan. I was crazy about Dean until later seasons when he just got angrier and more hypocritical. At first, I admired Ackles for his love for Jared and humility, but his behavior (his inconsistency at cons, and how he talked about Jared lovingly one minute, then criticizing him at JIB or joking at his expense when he’s not there, while calling him brother in the next breath) would not allow me to keep blindly sighing over him. Not to mention, I noticed how his stories were always humble (or not so humble) brags. He isn’t consistent and changes for the crowd he’s in.

I’m sorry, but if you are the one who only sees someone as perfect and can’t acknowledge any flaws to the point that you need to attack anyone who dares mention one, then you are the one without a balanced view. Our observation are subjective, obviously, and you don’t have to agree with how someone elde interprets something, but to instantly write them off as just a hater or lying (unless it’s a provable lie, or delusion with no proof like hellers and cockles shippers) maybe take a look at your own objectivity and need to go to battle for someone you don’t actually know.

It saddens me that Jensen has such judgemental, toxic fans that only care about fetishiz*ing him. Then I remember there are also fans like you, who are able to see him as a real and complex person. Thank you for this beautiful post! 💕💕💕

I think the reason why they immediately resort to bullying and gaslighting is because they know they stand no chance of making eloquent, balanced arguments because they lack objectivity. I mean all they do is project, not only on others but on Jensen especially, he needs to be the fantasy they created and is not allowed to stray from that perfect image. I cannot imagine how painful that must be to him. No human is perfect and we all just want to be loved for who we are, not for some false image others build in their attempt to exploit our beauty, like in his case.

#anti AAs #jensen critical

[emma-frxst]

Something in the Orange (part 1/3)

Pairing: Nathan Summers/ Cable x reader

Summary: after losing his long time partner and wife somewhere in time, Cable will stop at nothing until he finds her. Loosely based off Zach Bryan’s “something in the orange”.

Warnings: angst, language. (I think that’s all let me know if I missed anything)

A/n- love me some Cable. Was in the mood to do a mini series. Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!

Part 2 here

He greeted the dawn every morning with a lonely sigh and cup of black coffee in hand. Cable wasn’t sleeping much these days. Call it restlessness or old age, he didn’t care.

He sighed yet again as the old rocking chair creaked under his weight.

A cool breeze sent a chill down his spine, but the rising sun sent its warm rays to heat him.

The warmth of the sunlight reminded Nathan of her; everything did. He’d lost count of how many years it’d been, it didn’t matter though, every day felt like an eternity.

But I miss you in the mornings when I see the sun

Something in the orange tell me we’re not done

Before you were Nathan’s wife you were his long time partner, sliding through time together, taking names and kicking ass.

That was how he lost you though. The device he used to glide through the timeline malfunctioned, leaving you lost somewhere in the vastness of time. Cable always believed some ill-intentioned someone had tampered with it. The two of you had made your fair share of enemies throughout your timeline escapades.

Cable searched every crack and crevice of time trying to find you, called for you until his lungs gave out. But you never answered.

His device wore down over time and being stuck in the 21st century meant he didn’t have the technology to repair it to its full potential. So there he sat in his cabin in the woods, alone. He glanced over at the empty rocking chair next to him, anger and grief filling his chest.

Cable knew in his heart you were still out there. You were a survivor; someone who was fierce and untamed, and, albeit, bullheaded at times. That was one of the many reasons he married you. He’d find you, even if it took until the end of his days, he’d find you.

Your voice only trembles when you try to speak

Take me back to us dancing, this wood used to creak

Cable didn’t dance, but he did just this once only because you two were in the privacy of your living room and it was your favorite song.

You smirked at him, knowing he was actually enjoying himself.

“What?” You questioned him as his eyes weren’t leaving you, not even for a moment.

“Nothing” he smirked. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout marrying you one of these days.”

The biggest smile crossed your face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Cable replied, spinning you around.

“Well…” you spun back around into his embrace. “You’ve got yourself a deal Nathan Summers.”

It'll be fine by dusk light I'm telling you, baby

These things eat at your bones and drive your young mind crazy

When Cable did sleep, he was plagued by nightmares, often waking up in a panic about losing you.

It was painful when he moved through time, feeling the atoms of his being shifted as he slid through time. But the worst pain was watching your hand slip from his as you disappeared into God knows where. He tried going back in time to prevent it from ever happening. But each time he went back, you weren’t there. It’s like you were a ghost.

Cable awoke from a bad dream, your last words carved into his brain

Cable?!

That was all, just one word. His name. Instead of you whispering his name in a sweet, soft song, it was being cried out at the top of your lungs, panicked.

He rolled over to grab the unfinished beer from the nightstand. He chugged it, hoping it would help erase that memory, at least for the night.

A faint beeping interrupted the lonely silence that lingered.

It progressively got louder.

What the fu-? Cable muttered to himself

The temporal dial.

It was flashing red; A distress signal.

The year 2093.

It was her, Cable was positive.

He scrambled to put on his suit and gather his weapons. It had to be her. Had to be.

-

Tags: (tag list of open, send me an ask if you want to be tagged, removed or only tagged for certain characters.) @chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine-blog  @super-darkcloudstudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @leo-writer @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife

#cable x reader #Nathan summers x reader #mcu cable x reader #deadpool fanfiction #Deadpool 2 fanfiction #Nathan summers/ reader #mcu!cable #mine #kacceywrites

[heckyeahponyscans]

 Okay, my thoughts on the “Make Your Mark” special! (Will contain spoilers.)

1. Animation - Kind of janky. There are parts that look fine and parts where ponies will suddenly move WAY too fast or their physics will be off. Hopefully this is just due to growing pains. (The CGI models were created by Boulder Studios, but MYM is being animated by Atomic Cartoons--using Boulder’s CGI models-- so maybe they’re still learning how best to utilize them.)

Zipp looks the best out of the ponies.  Sunny looks odd in some scenes . . . I think because they darkened her coat color without darkening her lip color.

2. Characters - Zipp is the standout and definitely the main protagonist.  They made her shoulder the burden alone a bit too much.  But I did find her very relatable.  The way she felt directionless, yet unable to bear returning about her royal duties, was compelling.  (One thing I would’ve changed: I would’ve had Queen Haven call her Zephyrina the whole way through until the very end where she asks to be called Zipp. As it was the Queen had already called her Zipp at least twice.)

I thought Hitch was handled very strangely.  The two moments that really didn’t strike true were Hitch leaving the beach without resolving the parasol conflict, which seemed out-of-character (if anything Hitch takes his job TOO seriously) and Hitch not telling his friends about the egg.  Like, I don’t think anything would’ve changed narratively if he’d said, “Whoa guys, has anyone ever seen an egg like this? No? Well, I’m going to take care of it.”

Posey was a really fun character, I enjoyed seeing a G1 pony reinvented.  I thought it was funny how everyone (including myself) expected her to be soft-spoken and then she turned out to be SUPER AGGRO.  Posey is ready to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. 

IMO they could’ve been more specific about her motivations; they gave her like seven different reasons to dislike magic.  So does she actually think it’s dangerous or does she think it’s annoying? It’s important because the script has to answer Posey’s objections and show why she’s wrong.

The dragon character, Sparky, is a baby gargoyle from Gargoyles and no one can convince me differently. ;)  I thought they should’ve had the egg hatch way earlier and had Sparky be the catalyst for the dislike of magic.  Like maybe Sparky keeps toddling away and, idk, setting things ablaze with his / her fire breath.

3. The Plot - I felt like most the parts of the plot worked well individually, but they didn’t synchronize well.  Kind of like a puzzle box that’s been shaken.  It can make a harmonious picture, but you have to arrange them properly.  

For example:  What if Hitch found the dragon egg first and then the squabble broke out at the beach?  Then he has a concrete reason to leave the beach (he needs to put the egg under a heat lamp right away) and it’s not just a weird, unmotivated thing he does.

Basically, I think the script needed another pass to tighten it up.

About the crystals, I wish the problem had been that disharmony made magic go crazy and become super-charged instead of making magic disappear.  IMO this makes more sense with the Earth pony “hooves stuck to the ground” problem. (They were trotting around just fine without magic before the crystals were reunited, sooo . . .) Also it just seems silly that magic can be disrupted by five ponies having a mild argument. Kind of seems like magic is doomed if that’s the case.  I dunno, it just felt kind of lazy as a source of conflict.

4. Songs?? - It’s really weird to me that there’s only one (very short) song in this special.  We don’t even hear Pipp’s Maretime Bay Day song.  Makes me wonder if the script was originally intended to be longer and was pared down.

5. Random Notes - I’m FLOORED that Sprout wasn’t in the special.  I figured they were either going to set him up as a recurring town antagonist or have a redemption arc for him.  Never did I expect him to just be absent without explanation.  I know he shows up in the video game, but you can’t count on your entire audience having played that.  (Weirdly, I think the video game is set on the same day as the MYM special.  Or maybe it’s a year in the future or something?  But I’m pretty sure it involves Maretime Bay Day.)  

They could’ve at least said, “Wow, I can’t believe Sprout missed Maretime Bay Day, but I guess he’s having fun on vacation” and then cut to him and Phyllis comically lost in a tropical jungle or something. 

6. Things I Liked - I liked how much was left unsolved at the end of the special.  I like this “Detective Zipp” thing.  Zipp and Pipp continue to be the powerhouses of the show in terms of their relationship and their voice actors.  Loved the last scene with the mysterious evil alicorn (I just really REALLY hope she’s a new character and not “Flurry Heart grew up and became eeeevil” or "Luna and Celestia merged into one being!” or something stupid like that.)

Oh!  We finally got confirmation that magic has been missing from Equestria for generations (as no one has seen a dragon in that long.)  Which is fun to think about.

It had never occurred to me that the crystals might have been purposely separated, but I found that quite the intriguing idea.  If the three pony tribes were at war then, yeah, that would actually be an amazing (if stone-cold) strategy:  separate the crystals and suddenly your foes don’t have magic.  It would especially make sense if Earth ponies did it.

6. Overall Thoughts - Overall it felt far less nuanced than the G5 movie (both in animation and writing).  I didn’t hate it, I didn’t love it . . . It was fine, and that was kind of it. But it did give me a lot to muse on and generated some ideas of how I would’ve scripted it, and I appreciate that.

And still a hundred times better than Netflix’s “War for Cybertron” in case anyone is wondering, lol.

#My Little Pony #G5 #Make Your Mark #spoilers #Make Your Mark special #MLP #I will roast War For Cybertron at every opportunity

[delta-83]

Even though the lamp shines a bright light,

It's always the deep night, eternal twilight.

Try to write what I think is right, always failing with my sight.

Soon all of those demons watching shall unite, soon they'll bite.

Maybe I should ignite the light so I can fight and rewrite,

But it's too late to incite courage, to gain insight.

So here with a keyboard I write here in the daylight,

Although all that exists is twilight and night.

Try to mask it all,

Yet to no surprise I fall.

Grown up too fast,

Memories I hold close to last.

Have to be the best,

Ace every test.

Now I look back and all I see,

Is someone that doesn't look like me.

Hold it all inside,

Despite being what I abide.

My mistake,

I let it all out in one take.

I try to pay attention,

But all I focus on is inner tension.

Trust me please when I say I try to try.

It's not visible to the naked eye.

I'm not made of atoms but of remorse,

Gaining more with each painful course.

I ponder my death often, all the ways

Never with caution, the wasted days.

Although, I should be safe from the Reaper.

You can't kill what's been killed, sorry creature.

He can collect the corpse, all of it.

I've apparently already sold my soul for a profit.

Every night, making a vow.

To change my ways.

Although somehow,

That 'vow' withers and decays the next day.

I need will, I need motivation,

Something to prevent further devastation.

Act like I've done a one-eighty,

Yet all I've done is a three-sixty.

Slowly going crazy,

Now I've started to hate me.

I need will, I need help,

Soon enough I can't be dealt.

I write poetry about my woes,

Praying that they'll magically go away.

Thou fine being above who knows,

Help thy child, show her the way.

But reward never comes without work,

Work that'll surely cut the heart like a dirk.

Twinkle twinkle little star,

Why must you stay like a scar?

Up above the world so high,

Like my dreams that said goodbye.

To reach it, I crawled up the water spout,

Heavy was the rain that washed me out.

Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain,

Only in dreams did that happen though, with no pain.

Just to think, I sat on a wall of buried emotions, quite very tall,

Soon, the dark caved in and I lost sight, had a great fall.

And nothing at all,

Was able to put me back together again.

Stay back, stay away,

Don't say sorry, some advice.

Leave me be, just please.

A simple design,

Compressed and cold, hold it in.

What can I say, really.

The sun and moon swap,

And everything gets worse here.

So lonely, cold, dark.

It fills, the feeling trills,

It encases, coming anew with new faces,

It's what kills, interesting skills.

Plagues the mind of all places, no traces, heart races.

Pace raises, simple phases.

My strongest fears contained in nimble phrases.

The sweetness of knowledge.

Everything has a sensible answer,

One that will be found I pledge, almost fall off the ledge.

And everything must have a paired question I swear, right there.

Everything must have reason, no teasin',

Everything I must doubt, no way out.

Only things that's pleasin' my mind, disease ridden,

Although what is this route, what am I going without, what is this all about?

I fear I'll be consumed by this need and desire,

That it'll go higher, transpire, turn dire.

But why should I worry when I got my friends,

They got my back now right?

Not when I pain them again and again, no end.

"Nono it'll be alright, don't fight, it's alright," I recite.

Try to change my ways, many days, time withered away.

Am I supposed to be alone, deaf to lovely major tone, lost out in the zone?

At night, fears come out to play, in the absence of day, while I lay.

And this amongst them has been grown, the idea of lone, engraved deep into the bone.

Nothing suffocates more, nothing has debates galore,

Like this idea of being alone forevermore.

Contradictions tear my sense of self apart, damaged soul and broken heart,

Can barely remember what I was like, broken psych,

Somehow can break a self with simple thoughts, many parts, a fine art.

Hits like a strike, struck by a spike, unlike many of the like.

Should I even try anymore?

Shouldn't I at least make an attempt?

Reality isn't real, not now, not before, not at my core that's been tore.

Yet I may be wrong, just a thought unkempt, from order an exempt.

I should stop writing, fighting, inciting, igniting,

I should be rewriting, righting, alighting the mind, might be delighting.

In a coffin six feet under, a horrible blunder, body and soul asunder,

A love for death yet a fear for its arrival, the rival of my survival.

Dream of it day and night, always in wonder.

When I get the chance, I'll run away from the final trial like a scared coward, no denial.

I fear my heart making its last beat, the final feat, the sizzling heat of Hell beneath, need I repeat?

Yet always I recite "Take me away Death," with every breath.

How about I go take a seat before I call defeat and retreat,

Before I descend into the pit of incredible depth.

And let's not forget my aching heart,

Hit by Cupid's own sneaky dart.

A simple art,

Always lingering in my mind, it simply tears me apart.

Letting go and dismissing all these feelings would be smart,

Yet here they remain, a subpart.

And what would happen if they knew?

The tension is thick, and I have no clue if it shrunk or grew.

I know I don't deserve them anyway, through events true,

Yet no matter what I do these emotions, I can't subdue.

To deserve this, what did I do?

No matter, I'll just keep my affection hidden from their view.

I'm on the tightrope ready to fall and shatter,

Cause deep inside I've damaged myself, that's the matter.

Been beating my own dead corpse, making myself sadder.

Just one slip up and I fall, tattered and battered.

Deep breaths, deep breaths,

It's either stress or death and I'd rather not take the latter.

Yet, some days I wonder if that's even a choice anymore.

#poem #poetry

[nicklloydnow]

“Yes, I just didn’t recognize myself anymore. Did you feel the same way? I would look in the mirror and not really know who was staring back. I just seemed like a different kind of being. Grief is extraordinary in its capacity to completely alter us on an almost atomic level. Suddenly, we inhabit a different body. Our relationship with everything seems to change. It’s as if we’re simply a different person. I meant that quite literally. I changed from one person to another person.

(…)

For me, it became essential to work out a way of doing that. I needed a way to articulate grief. I did the in-conversation events, which, to me, were a not always successful attempt at expressing these things. I don’t know really what I was trying to do when I did those; I’d gone a bit mad. They were strange things to do. So it was really with “The Red Hand Files” that I learned how to write about it—even though I couldn’t really talk about it, at least I could develop a language around grief. It took the conversations with Seán—and they were sometimes quite painful—to work out, over time, a way of adequately describing the mechanics of grief. Seán allowed me the time, the room. We are often hyperconscious of the way our grief makes others feel. We become like antimatter sucking everything into the vacuum of our anguish, the air, the life. I don’t know. I just found it difficult to talk normally to people about it. I had to work out a way where I could talk about it without driving myself and everyone else crazy. It’s easier to talk to you about these sorts of things, Amanda, because I know you’re in, as they say, “the club.” The club no one wants to be in.

(…)

My belief in God—well, that’s a little complicated. I’m full of doubt in that respect, but replete with belief, too. Full of both things. Mostly, I inhabit a space between belief and unbelief. But, look, even if it turns out there is no actual divine dimension, music feels touched by something else. The creative process—especially original creation, which, for me, is writing words and music—can feel like hard labor and much of the time is as far away from anything you might call spiritual. I find it can be an agonizing and debilitating and solitary business. But there are sudden mystifying moments of spiritual freedom, where I am lifted from my feelings of inadequacy and I am suddenly flying around the room like a giggling fool, rapturously transported. That’s not just the creative process—that’s life in general. We lead our common lives, but all around there are hunches and intimations and whisperings of something else. These small, softly spoken suggestions are enough for me to feel that there is some enigmatic otherness to be experienced, and that’s where my belief lies.

I understand where atheists are coming from. But I think the relentless shutting down of the idea of the divine is, for me, just bad for the business of songwriting. It feels limiting and uncreative. I think that many musicians are more prone to spiritual ideas because they are naturally closer to the mysterious act of creation. It’s part of our occupation to inhabit a place that is at least adjacent to these ideas. So many musicians I know have a sort of unspoken, unannounced spirituality, which they experience naturally through the making of music.

(…)

Yeah, I totally agree with that. I totally agree with myself. [Laughs.] But, of course, I don’t think anyone who is serious about these matters doesn’t doubt on some level. And, at the very least, doubt is the antidote to dogma and fanaticism and reductionism. This position—and this is not just a religious point of view; I would say, personally at least, this is where I sit on most things—is a place of uncertainty. This uncertainty or unknowing, which I equate with creativity, comes from an understanding of loss. We understand that life is not stable or dependable. This doubt feeds into everything I feel spiritually. I try to approach these matters with humility and uncertainty and to not be dogmatic. That’s my problem with militant atheists: their lack of humility. But, in the end, I don’t think atheism is the real problem. The atheist’s point of view is weirdly sustained through the imagination of other people and their beliefs. A demoralized indifference to spiritual matters is the problem.

(…)

Because grief doesn’t just go away. You become more resilient; you become more effective at navigating and dealing with your feelings. Yet the fundamental loss remains—it doesn’t just dissipate—and, in a strange way, I think it can become a magnet for other losses. We come to see we are all simply creatures carrying around our ever-deepening loss. Small griefs seem to collect around the bigger primary grief. I think this realization allows us to become a true human being.

And I don’t think this situation resolves itself as you grow older. In fact, more people just die. Loss becomes the primary condition of living. That doesn’t mean you’re in a hopeless, grief-stricken state all the time; it just means that you carry a deeper understanding of what it is to be human. We suffer as human beings, but out of that can come enormous joys, and genuine happiness, too. It can run in tandem with this ordinary sense of suffering. Otherwise, joy doesn’t resonate fully. Joy seems to leap forth out of suffering. Regardless of your loss, you see how beautiful, how meaningful, how joyful the world can suddenly be. Human beings in general, you know, are fleeting things. That’s something to understand on a fundamental level. That we have value. That we are precious.

(…)

My objection is not with A.I. in general. For better or for worse, we are inextricably immersed in A.I. It is more a kind of sad, disappointed feeling that there are smart people out there that actually think the artistic act is so mundane that it can be replicated by a machine. I find that insulting. There’s no earthly reason why we need to invent a technology that can mimic this most beautiful and mysterious creative act. Particularly writing a song. The thing about writing a good song is that it tells you something about yourself you didn’t already know. That’s the thing. You can’t mimic that. The good song is always rushing forward. It annihilates, to some degree, the songs that you’d previously written, because you are moving forward all the time. That’s what the creative impulse is—it’s both creative and destructive and is always one step ahead of you. These impulses can’t be replicated by a machine. Maybe A.I. can make a song that’s indistinguishable from what I can do. Maybe even a better song. But, to me, that doesn’t matter—that’s not what art is. Art has to do with our limitations, our frailties, and our faults as human beings. It’s the distance we can travel away from our own frailties. That’s what is so awesome about art: that we deeply flawed creatures can sometimes do extraordinary things. A.I. just doesn’t have any of that stuff going on. Ultimately, it has no limitations, so therefore can’t inhabit the true transcendent artistic experience. It has nothing to transcend! It feels like such a mockery of what it is to be human. A.I. may very well save the world, but it can’t save our souls. That’s what true art is for. That’s the difference. So, I don’t know, in my humble opinion ChatGPT should just fuck off and leave songwriting alone.

(…)

Things are a little different now than they were when I was making “Ghosteen.” I was inside—deep inside—my grief. There were all manner of things that seemed possible in that space. I don’t reject those feelings at all. In the book, I call it the impossible realm, which is not the imagination—it’s adjacent to the imagination and in close proximity to death. It’s a place where one has a sharpened awareness of the essentialness of things, and of the divine. I had a very real feeling at that time that I could help Arthur’s spiritual condition—which really worried me—by creating beautiful music to surround him with. It upsets me when people wave this kind of thinking away as if it’s just magical thinking, as if it’s intellectually dishonest. Because these things helped me enormously. I would put religion in there, as well—religion can be extraordinarily helpful to people. I have a lot of time for religion, in all sorts of ways, but especially in the sense that it is a lifeline to people who really need it. There’s an idea that religion is just a crutch—this is true, actually. Religion is a crutch, and a much-needed one. And I find the radical atheist idea of kicking out the crutches from under people with rationality is mean-spirited. That point of view—I hear it a lot. It feels unkind, ungenerous, inhumane.

(…)

People harden around the absence of a person they loved who has passed on. There’s a deification of this absence. I think this is an extremely problematic situation to get yourself into, and it’s not uncommon—living your life inwardly, focussing in on the dead rather than focussing outwardly on life and living. It’s a difficult thing to negotiate early on. But it’s essential that that happens. It can be difficult and sad, because it is the kind of letting go that no one wants to do. But necessary.”

#nick cave #grief #loss #death #god #religion #art #music

[chronocidalrage]

My best friend and brother died so I’m gonna talk about it a lot, sorry!

The last movie we went to together (Rise of Skywalker) didn’t go great. But we both did what we do when we’re faced with disconnection from each other. I pulled away and he drank. We were both upset about the same thing, we just had different reactions.

We spent our lives feeling connected. Neither one of us knew how to handle it when that changed.

I have a strong capacity for connection. On the upside, it feels amazing, on the downside I’m very open to pain. So I’m overprotective of myself. Atom and I were the same in that way. I was just even more protective because I got to see him get hurt and I learned from it.

It’s crazy to think I’m still here without Atom, but it’s also crazy to think I spent almost 30 years of my life without Susie. Think of all the times I wished she had been there with me, to help her or get help from her, to teach each other that we both deserve better and can be loved and love safely.

It’s weird. It’s just like this chapter of my life is the “Alex and Susie chapter” and it just happened to overlap with the “Alex and Atom chapter.” Lucky me that they got to meet and coexist at the same time briefly. That’s technically amazing.

I feel a strong urge to be distracted today. Just constant distraction is all I want. I’m avoiding something.

I think it’s house shit. It’s the realization that I’ll end up living in that house again and Atom will never see it. He’ll never step foot in that house again. Never be at Thanksgiving. I won’t be able to talk to him about it. He’s the one I shared that house with the most and now it’s gonna be only mine. So weird.

Dad will never see it. Dad will never see me washing dishes in front of that window, just like him all those years ago.

I know I want to make the house mine, but it’s weird to realize it really won’t be that same house anymore. Not the house I grew up in. No more dad or Atom. Only I can carry on the memories I shared with the two of them. So weird.

I’m all for making it new and making it mine. But that means I have to say bye to the old house and I’m not quite ready for that. It’s good, this is what I should do, but I don’t feel ready. I guess I’ll have to manage.

And I’ll have to say bye to this apartment at the same time.

This has been hanging over me. A lot of endings. The end of this apartment. The end of the house being my mom’s house. That’s a horrible feeling that I hate that eats away at me and makes me want to avoid house shit even more.

And be patient. If you were moving into Susie’s grandmother’s house or something, you would be happy and grateful, but it would take some time to make it feel like your home.

I wish I never got rid of that couch. The couch Atom found in the trash, used for years and then gifted to me. I sat on the edge when Atom comforted me after I got upset about Cassie’s dad calling mom and I punched through the glass door. I slept on that couch for 6 months after Cassie and I stopped talking. It’s the couch I was on when I fell asleep on Cassie’s lap after my grandparent’s wake and she let me sleep there all night even though we were broken up. I spilled fake blood on that couch making movies with my friends. It made it all the way to Taber Street. Really wish I had kept it. It was a great couch.

I don’t want my nephews to grow up because they were just these little humans that I got to know with Atom. I think this house shit and camp and things getting more back to normal is really putting Atom on my mind. I’m just thinking of him more.

Being at a party at a house that we almost put an offer in for (the party at Susie’s friend Jess’s house), that definitely had an impact on me today. Stephan talking about having kids and two huskies. Future was on my mind. Just scary is all.

PASSENGER BEHAVIOR Watch out for “passenger behavior.” It’s when you behave as if you aren’t in the driver’s seat of your life but it’s all bullshit that you’re bringing onto yourself.

It’s this thing when I make myself a passenger in order to get the reward of connection, and when the expectations of my time as a passenger change, I get upset. But it’s kinda my fault for agreeing to be a passenger when I didn’t actually want to.

If I really were a passenger, I wouldn’t care what we do, but I obviously do care. I MAKE myself a passenger even though I don’t want to be one.

BODY SHIT Honestly the reason I can never feel okay with how I look is because of my gut and love handles. As long as I can see those, I won’t be satisfied. Remember that every time you wanna eat shit: you’re making yourself more “pear-shaped.” EATING JUNK = LOVE HANDLES!

LOSS I just feel a lot more loss in my future and fewer gains and I don’t have a lot of confidence in my ability to handle all that loss.

Life is loss, and I don’t believe in myself. So I idolize lone wolves, but I always love seeing people gain things and have things because that’s what I really want.

THE SUNSET MOMENTS You spend all this time trying to get to a moment where everything feels perfect and you know it’s the (or a) climax of your life, but that’s not how it works. You probably won’t know when your climax is. It could be a small moment that only seems super significant years later.

I knew walking up to Susie at that holiday party would be meaningful, but I had no idea how meaningful. I knew it meant a lot when Atom told me he still believed Susie and I were perfect for each other, I just didn’t realize how right he was. Time decides your sunset moments so you can’t chase them. In the mean time, chase what makes the most sense to you. Live authentically and if you’re lucky, you’ll be paying attention when some of those sunset moments happen.

So yeah, stop looking for the moment and make the moment instead. Figure out what you want your moments to be and try to make them that way.

AVOIDANCE A lot of my shit is avoidance. Odds are, I’m trying to avoid something. House stuff makes me think of the future and having to let go of the past.

In my mind, I think I always imagined I’d be making comics with Atom or at least working in a studio together like the early Image Comics days. If I ever was successful in movies, I always imagined Atom would be at least my assistant if not my partner. We literally talked about him being my assistant. Makes all that stuff less fun.

I always wanted to play or make something that Atom liked. A band, a song. I can’t do that anymore. These new sad realities are really bringing me down.

[mythiccheroacademia]

— embarassing sex stories

𝕙𝕠𝕥 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤: 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕚𝕖 <𝟛 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝕤𝕖𝕩𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥, 𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕕 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕, 𝕡𝕦𝕜𝕖 (𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕔), 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪, 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕟 𝕨𝕒𝕪 :’), 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕦𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕡𝕤

𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝟙𝟠+

Todoroki Shouto:

so there shouto was holding your legs wide and beating that pussy up till it was red

you were very exposed and you queefed here and there but it was more of something that you felt rather than heard

that was until a bunch of air got into your vagina

and you let out the biggest queef of your life 

shit sounded like an atomic bomb

your bf paused 

todoroki made a sound of surprise as you gasped

you were aboslutely horrified 

you did not just let out a queef that big 🙃

it was a natural thing but that didnt make it any less embarrassing 

“i am so sorry” you said, unable to hide your giggles bc of the sheer embarrassment you felt 

and ofc shouto’s dumbass thought you actually farted

“um no. it’s okay. if you need to go to the bathroom, we can stop,” he politely said 

he’s such a sweetheart omg 

you laughed harder, hiding your face in your hands

youve never wanted to end it all so badly 

Midoriya Izuku:

sex is really wet and slippery if you’re doing it right 

usually that works in your favor

but this time, it worked against you

izuku was kissing your neck as he lined himself up at your entrance 

he wasnt paying too much attention as he was too wrapped up in your moans

when he pushed his hips forward, his dick slipped and the tip went into your butt

you let out a scream of surprise 

and then you fucking blacked out 😭

the shock of it was too much for you and you were dead weight in his arms 

a minute later, you regained consiousness and saw him crying, pleading for you to wake up 

you tried to calm him down and get back in the mood but he was too freaked out to continue 

it was a total turn off but a funny story to tell your friends

Bakugo Katsuki:

bakugo’s favorite position is doggy style

there’s something about the way your ass slaps against him that drives him insane

you don’t really care for the position bc “it was just too much dick” (actual words) but you let him hit it from the back when you felt he deserved it

so bakugo was going crazy that night

the man was basically jackhammering into you 

and ofc he made sure you were enjoying it as much as possible 

so as you were getting into it, he keeps going faster and harder 

until he gets a charlie horse in his hamstring 

he curses really loudly and falls on top of you, gripping his leg in pain 

you try and get up to see what was wrong but he just pushed you back down and shushed you

“just...don’t move,” he hissed

so you two literally lie there for a whole 60 seconds before it goes away

you defintely laughed in his face for what seemed like forever and he was red for the rest of the night 💀

katsuki makes you swear never to bring it up again

Natsuo Todoroki:

you and natsuo had a two week dry spell bc of classes

when you finally got the chance to get together, you got straight down to business

one of your legs was over his shoulder and the other was wrapped around his waist

he’s got you in the ✨baby making position✨

youre having an out of body experience before you notice that your bf slows down to a stop 

you look up at him with confusion and ask why he stopped 

natsuo presses his lips in a line and his eyes flicker between where you’re connected and your face

it’s a hot second before he goes, “don’t freak out but, i think...i think you’re bleeding” 

in the next second, a metallic scent hits your nostrils and you nearly shrivel away in horror 

you were so desperate for some dick (like the whore you are) that you completely forgot that you started your period today 

you wanted to die from the embarrassment 

you both stopped and showered deciding to end it there for the night

natsuo was very sweet about it and assured you that he didn’t care 

meanwhile, you couldn’t look at him even as you cuddled 

“dont worry about it, babe! it kinda felt cool. like i was in a can of hot soup!”

you pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned

Tamaki Amajiki: 

it’s no secret that tamaki’s got a huge dick 🥴

like that thang be thanging yfm?

and that’s cool and all, but it almost killed you 

you were going down on him with that triple gwak gwack 4000 combo houston texas style 

tamaki was on cloud nine 

this was possibly some of the best head you’ve ever given him--and you give good head 

so as you’re throwing neck, his fingers are gripping your head 

he’s usually pretty good about not forcing you down bc he never wants to hurt you

but he was just so overwhelmed by the pleasure that he accidentally shoved your mouth further down his dick

and when it hit the back of your throat w that much force, you kinda threw up 🤧

you jerked your head back and covered your mouth

it was only a little bit that went up your throat and you swallowed it down before it came out but you still felt horrified

tamaki didnt care about the puke part but was all over you, asking if you were okay and profusely apologizing 

you said you were okay and tried to go back to what you were doing, but he said that he didnt deserve it 

bless his heart 💀

Sero Hanta:

it was your first time and you were nervous as fuck

and hearing stories of how badly your friends’ first experience with penetration hurt terrified you

sero knew you were scared and did his best to prep you 

he kept asking if you wanted to continue and you said yes 

you backed out like four times before and decided tonight was the night

when it got to the part where he puts it in, you clenched up like a clam

he couldnt put the tip in even if he wanted to  

“babe, i know youre nervous but you have to relax,” he chuckled

“i know i know. okay, just give me a second” 

scary ass 😂

you took some deep breaths and relaxed a little 

he kissed you to help distract you

then he proceeded to slowly enter you

he didnt even get the head fully in before you felt a sharp pain that made you gasp

then your overdramatic ass deadass punched him straight in the chest 😭

you swore it was a reflex

sero nearly flew off you and doubled over 

once you realized what you did, you frantically apologized

he took it like a champ

“nice punch,” he coughed. “I think you just concaved my chest in”

it’s something you laugh about now 

#bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #shouto todoroki #shouto x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #todoroki natsuo #natsuo x reader #tamaki amakiji #tamaki x reader #Sero Hanta #sero x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #guess which story's mine lmao :')

[writing-in-april]

Unwinding in the Vines

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader can’t get enough of cuddling Spencer.

A/N: Hey Heyyyy! Here’s my twenty-third fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! Sorry this one is again out a little later than usual- I’ve started a new job and it was my mom’s birthday today! This ones based on this request from @lexieshuntingsstuff- it’s a user smol sweet moment between Reader and Spencer. Feel free to send me an ask here (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Vague mentions of death (of minor characters & a tree lol) & Reader is overprotective of Spencer after he had a run in with an unsub- other than that it’s just a smol fluffy moment.

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.2k

His arms were wrapped around my torso tight. They wound around to hug every dip and curve of my body, like the vines of ivy trailing up the tree he was resting his back on. Unlike the tree, who was being choked slowly to death by the vine, I thrived under his hold.

His hold on me made me feel safer than I ever had been, grounding me. Him being clingy also assured me that he was real, I could feel his skin on mine, even when his touch was dampened by our clothing. Though I craved him being closer, even more clingy than he already was being, I’d have to settle with how we were. I tried to sink into his touch even more despite it not being possible, winding my own arms up around his to create vines of my own.

I often felt unsafe, specifically at my job which was also Spencer’s. He was by my side through every investigation, through thick and thin, willing to do whatever it takes. It didn’t matter whether we were personally involved or it was the most routine case we had all year, he was always by my side. Though I often craved for him to be closer to me, to smother me with his whole body twisted around me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

I then hooked my legs around his, intertwining myself even further into him, no longer knowing where I stopped and he began. It had been too close of a call during the last case for me not to want him so close. He was the one holding me, but really I was protecting him from the man who dared pull a gun on him even though he was dead.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer spoke up pulling me out of my daydream for a moment.

I fiddled with my fingers that I had intertwined with his, assuring me that he was here, safe and here to keep me safe. He nudged my side as I started to drift off back into my thoughts to prompt me to give him an answer, “How much closer I want you,” Was the first answer that came to my mind, until the true answer came to me. I hesitated, reluctant to spill my guts even though I knew he wouldn’t be mad, “ and- how glad I am that you’re safe…”

His breath hitched, probably him thinking back to his brush with death, all because of some cocky unsub so chaotic he had been hard to predict. I wanted to apologize for bringing it up, but Spencer had already moved on from the subject, choosing to focus on the positive, “I don’t think I can’t physically be closer- unless you want our atoms fuse.”

I giggled a little along with Spencer, making our chests vibrate with one another. Twisting myse a little around for just a moment I booped the tip of his nose delicately before teasing him with my tongue stuck out just a bit, “Think you could figure that out doc?”

“Maybe- I could probably do it with an assistant.” He teased right back, with a boop on my nose too as revenge.

“Only if it’s me.”

“I’d never be able to do anything without you.” My heart swelled at the affection, just as it always did around Spencer. He always leveled attacks of affection on me, which some would find obnoxiously overbearing. I thought those people were crazy. I loved him so much, letting him go or him letting me go sounded sad. When we were unable to touch each other at work I always felt a slight pain in my chest at the thought of it. Guess that probably made me clingy as well, but Spencer loved it just as much as I did.

My mind had shifted back to thinking about the BAU, our job that caused constant turmoil within me. Ever since he had nearly been fatally wounded I couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything else for us, something safer. Looking up at the clouds floating along without a care in the sky, I envied their ability to be carefree, to be able to see where the wind takes them.

“Did you ever think this was where you’d be?” He looked up at the clouds with me, perhaps also wishing life would be just as easy and carefree.

“No.” It was true, and also not surprising. Whether his answer was about his job or about me, I knew that even not that long ago he never would have imagined being here underneath the tree with me. Though, I was still worried that he no longer wanted to be a part of the BAU, especially after the recent fiasco. I did not want him to stay only for me.

“Do you want to be here?” My meaning had a double entendres, at surface level meaning his time with the BAU which even with my anxiety over recent events, I knew realistically we were meant to be there. Suddenly I was now anxious for his answer to the other meaning, whether or not he wanted to be here tangled up with me. We had said the words I love you out loud, and even then self doubt liked to poison me.

“Yes.” His arms choked around me tighter, but I never felt more free to be me. I never felt more alive than when I was close to Spencer, thriving with him. My own arms were holding Spencer down to me, but he had told me once that I was the only reason he ever grew to be better which I happily did along with him.

My stomach rumbled, interrupting our deep conversation. It was loud enough that Spencer could hear it even with the breeze that was muffling almost everything. He moved his hand down to rub my stomach, soothing it for the time being. “Do you want to eat the rest of the food?”

Wistfully I looked over to the picnic basket that we had packed for our time to unwind. We had eaten only a small portion of it before he had pulled me back to rest on his chest. My stomach may be slightly rumbling, but I wouldn’t want to give up my hold on Spencer or have him give up his hold on me. “No, you’d have to let me go if I did.”

I felt warm, almost hot, his arms insulating all the heat inside me along with what I produced on my own. My cheeks were definitely burning, but I didn’t care, I felt safe here away from the horrors I faced everyday with him. I never wanted him to stop clinging on to me like a koala bear or like the vines around us. He brushed a finger along my cheek, which was probably hot to the touch as he then asked, “Are you sure I’m not holding you too tight?”

Nuzzling my face on the side of one of his arms, I then squeezed my palms around him three times, a silent confession of my love. Turning my head up I saw him looking down at me in adoration, not at the other beauties of nature around me. I squeezed him tight once again, trying to entangle us permanently like a vine to a tree before I told him, “No, it’s perfect.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join):

Strike through means tumblr won’t let me tag you- check your privacy settings

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @katexrichardson @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #30 fics in 30 days

[favefandomimagines]

Enigma (b.b.)

Summary: you’re Bucky’s enigma. and he finally finds out why

AN: i love bucky barnes ALSO who says i can’t write about the multiverse?? there are no rules anymore! 

i’m also thinking about making this a little ongoing ‘series’ kind of like the tom holland one i’m doing. same characters, same characters plots, just different plots for each part, if that makes sense. 

taglist: @amourtentiaa

You and James Buchanan Barnes had a complex relationship. And that was putting it lightly. Ever since you joined the team, Bucky had some sort of hesitation towards you. You didn’t know why, you were always nice to him but he just shrugged you off. 

You tried not to take it personally but it was hard when he seemed to be the only person who didn’t like you. The reason he was so standoffish was because you were an enigma to him. You were something he hadn’t really seen before. 

Mainly due to the fact that you weren’t given your powers in an unfortunate circumstance. No one really knew how you got them, it was like you were just born with the power to control the cosmos or anything with cosmic energy. Which was something unheard of. He didn’t understand how someone could just be born with powers. And what he didn’t understand, he was scared of. 

But his constant distaste towards you began to deter you. You were beginning to want nothing to do with him and he could sense that. You would stop greeting him in the kitchen every morning. You’d stop offering to go on jogs with him and you barely spared him a second glance. 

Add that to the list of the things Bucky didn’t understand about you. 

__

You woke up one morning feeling off. Something seemed wrong but you couldn't quite figure out what it was. Pins and needles were creeping up your spine and into your neck and your fingers kept twitching. 

You've been able to safely control your powers for some time now so you didn’t know why you felt as if you couldn’t. 

Exiting your bedroom, you were too busy shaking your hands out to rid yourself of the tingling feeling, you weren’t watching where you were going. 

You ran right into someone and looked up slightly, seeing Bucky  standing before you. “Oh, sorry.” You said quietly, moving around him. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked, grabbing your elbow gently. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You lied. 

Bucky knew something was off. Your usual sunny disposition was replaced with a solemn attitude. Which was very rare for you. But you weren't going to tell him what was wrong and he didn’t blame you for that. 

He watched you walk away, walking like you were at a constant level of pain or discomfort. He walked down the hall towards Steve’s room, seeing that the door was open and invited himself in. 

“Hey, something’s going on with Y/N.” Bucky announced. “What do you mean?” Steve asked. “I ran into her in the hall and all she did was say sorry. No conversation, no attempt at telling me a joke.” Bucky explained. “Well, she did say she was going to give up on making you like her. Maybe that’s it.” Steve replied. “This was different. She looked in pain.” Bucky rebutted. 

“I’m sure she’s fine, Buck.” Steve said. The rest of your day seemed to go on like normal, minus the dull ache in your body. You did some reading, helped Bruce in the lab like you always did. Until Steve scheduled you for training. 

The thing about Steve, was that he wanted  everyone to be in fighting shape. So, he’d schedule everyone for training sessions designed to focus on their strengths. On any other day, you wouldn’t complain, but today was not your day. 

You reluctantly walked into the training room, finding both Steve and Bucky present. “Alright, Y/N, you ready?” Steve asked. “Want the truth or just what you want to hear?” You questioned. “I know these aren’t everyone’s favorite thing to do but they’ll make you stronger which makes us stronger as a team.” Steve explained. 

“Now, your powers are very multipurpose. So, I just want to start on the cosmic defense, okay?” He added. “Is that why Barnes is here with a gun?” You asked. “He’s just here to help.” Steve said. “Yeah right.” You muttered. 

The training session began and everything was going okay. You harnessed the right amount of cosmic energy to block Bucky’s bullets and Steve’s shield. 

But soon, it became too much too fast. You could practically hear your heart beating in your ears and the pins and needles sensation became a million times worse. You couldn’t focus due to the pounding in your head. 

You stopped defending yourself as you gripped your head out of pain. You could feel the meteor showers, the solar flares, everything the pain was causing. You were reducing the objects in the training room down to the atom. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Steve asked, him and Bucky approaching you. “It hurts. It hurts so bad.” you cried. “I told you there was something wrong.” Bucky told his friend. 

He moved to pick you up and rush to get you help wherever he could find it. 

“Banner, can you help her?” Bucky questioned, entering the lab. You had curled yourself into Bucky, trying to relieve some of your pain. 

“What happened to her?” Bruce asked. “I don’t know. We were just training and her powers went out of control. But something was wrong this morning.” Bucky explained, setting you down on the table. “That explains the cosmic phenomenon no one can explain. Meteor showers, solar flares. NASA reported three cosmic storms in the past five minutes.” Bruce explained. “I need to sedate her before it gets worse.” He added. Bruce stuck a needle in your arm and you soon visibly relaxed. 

“Do any of us really know anything about her powers?” He questioned. “You don’t, but I do.” Tony announced, standing in the doorway. 

“There was no crazy experimentation, no cosmic event that gave them to her. She was simply born with them, because her father had powers too,” Tony started. “It’s called the X gene. A genetic mutation that gives the person different and unique abilities. They were all wiped out years ago by the US government. She’s the last one and her father came to me to keep her safe.” He added. “She’s a mutant?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, she is. And no one knew until now. The thing about the X gene, is that it makes it harder to learn control. The more the body changes the more the mutation changes. I thought she had a handle on her powers but I guess not.” Tony explained. “Will she be okay?” Bucky asked. “She just needs to sleep it off.” Tony said. “Who was her father?” Bruce asked. “His name was Erik. That’s all you need to know.” Tony answered before leaving the room. 

You were unconscious for hours. The much needed sleep completely calming your powers down. When you awoke, you were back in your bed and it was already dark outside. You looked over and saw that Bucky was asleep in the blue chair you had sat in the corner. 

“Bucky,” You spoke gently. The man stirred slightly before coming to. Bucky noticed you were awake and moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “Are you okay?” He asked. “Wasn’t sure you cared.” You answered, sitting up straighter. 

“Believe it or not, I do care. I’ve been this way towards you  because how you make me feel scares the hell out of me. I call you an enigma. Because you’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. And that’s before I knew you were a mutant.” Bucky said. 

You looked up at him at the sound of the ‘M’ word, not remembering having told him of your mutation. 

“Did Tony tell you?” You asked. “Yeah. Told me and Banner.” He said. “Now you know. The crazy genetic mutation that made me the  last of the mutants. What made me feel alone once again.” You laugh bitterly. 

“You’re not alone, Y/N. As long as you’re here, you’ll never be alone.” Bucky told you. “How can you promise me that?” You asked. “Because I’m going to try like hell to make sure you never feel that way again.” He answered. 

You gave Bucky a look of disbelief at his words. “You really do care don’t you?” You asked quietly. “It’s been really hard not too, doll.” He told you. 

You gave him a warm smile, one that Bucky had never seen you use towards him. “Who was your father? Do you know?” He questioned. “All I know is the name they gave him. Magneto.” You answered.

“But he’s gone now. I don’t know what happened to him or the rest of the mutants, but I’ve never met him.” You added. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you.” Bucky said. 

You didn’t believe him though. You don’t think your father would be proud. How could he be proud of the daughter he left behind? 

“I know I’m proud of you.” Bucky added. That’s all you needed. You didn’t need your absentee father’s approval. If you had Bucky, that was enough.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #marvel imagine #tony stark #erik lehnsherr #magneto #xmen #imagine #imagines