#hi guys is anyone else ensnared by these two things in particular

[time-slink]

(my two interests flying around my skull and crashing into each other) wgere am i

#my art #ethoslab #handy writing because every art of either of these guys ends up mistagged x) #hc x nrt #<- sigh. #hi guys is anyone else ensnared by these two things in particular #also don’t ask what scroll that is i don’t know. hence the lack of writing. but i think he would use seals #i think he would be really good at seals actually

[appples]

Oh, Cats (4/10)

pairing: Aizawa x Reader (OC)

genre/warning: 18+

words: 1535

summary: An average girl with a cat quirk starting over in a new city, as typical as usual. Until it’s not. You drop into someone’s life unannounced and not necessarily wanted.

Walking past the UA gates, you felt invincible. Since your confrontation with Aizawa, you launched into training in the evenings; self-confidence inflating rapidly. This was the first time you had left UA without hiding any of your features. Although you didn’t often go, if at all. Feeling like you don’t need to hide was still a very new sensation. People always looked as you walked by, but fewer than you remember pointed. It’s not often cat feature quirks manifest in this particular way. The heavier cat-like influence was more common, resulting in realistic heads of paws.

Out of all the things you could have missed the most, it was merely sounds of everyday life. People were so happy and oblivious to what heroes had to do to protect them. Without a plan, you wander the streets. Meandering in back alleys, meeting some local cats. Hours passed before you knew it and started to look at going home. Abruptly a bad feeling washed over you as you stood still. Unaware until now, there had been a coordinated effort to try and funnel you to a specific location where you currently were. How could I be so naïve to think this wouldn’t happen? People don’t change. Looking around and surveying the area gave you a brief advantage. You saw something racing towards you on the ground and jumped to the side. As you jumped, you saw it was a tentacle; aware, there must be a second coming soon. It wrapped itself around your ankle and pulled you backward, you tried slashing at it, but it made no difference. Knocked down, you try to break free. Another man emerged from the shadows holding his hands forward in front of himself. Nets eject from his fingertips, ensnaring you further. Finally, the third accomplice appeared, pleased with the finished task.

“Bind her hands, watch she doesn’t scratch you” the three men laughed above you. The tentacle began to move its way up to your legs, searching for something.

“No, stop! Please stop!” you were trying to kick at the tentacle with your free leg, but it only continued to rise. Inching closer and closer to your underwear, snatching at them in attempts to pull them down. There was a swift thick, wet sound. You looked down at the tipoffs, the tentacle still hanging on to your panties, now detached from the arm it belonged to.

“Ahh, what the fuck, man?! That was my fucking arm!” The tentacle man was screaming over his loss.

“It’ll grow back.” Aizawa emerged from the shadows. Unfazed, he practically danced in front of you. Releasing his capture weapon, he sent it around the man's throat with the net finger quirk, then another around the third man. Aizawa crossed his arms over, sending the two men crashing into each other. Having wounded the last man already, Aizawa bound him with the capture weapon. You were still on the ground when he walked up to you, standing up, avoiding his gaze.

“T-thank you.” You squeaked. “I was in a little over my head.”

“What the fuck happened” he snapped at you. Until this point, you had never actually seen Aizawa angry. You thought you did but had now been shown how incorrect you were.

“I just wanted some time away from UA, a -and they followed me” your words shook as a response to the ordeal you had just been through.

“If you can’t protect yourself, maybe you shouldn’t be leaving campus. What if a student saw you and decided today they were going to be the hero? What if they were hurt or killed?” Staring at the ground, you bit your tongue in an attempt not to cry.

“Did you even think of that?” He had moved closer. His shouts grew louder and more accusatory in tone. “Did you?!”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t give a fuck, how sorry you are.” He paused and collected his thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose. Stepping back from you as he realized how close he had gotten. “If you can’t take care of yourself off-campus, then maybe you shouldn’t be teaching,” his words stung like the tears in your eyes. You knew he was right, as much as you hated to admit it. You were too weak to keep yourself safe, so why should you have any agency over students. You’re supposed to be protecting them, not the other way around.

“Just go back to campus. I will take these guys in and leave you out of the incident report. Neither you nor the school needs the extra attention right now.” You nodded your head and turned to leave, digging your claws into your fists as you stiffly held them by your sides.

Aizawa watched you leave before returning his attention to the task at hand. He hadn’t realized how furious he was with you at first, and it caught him off guard. It wasn’t logical. But how could you be so careless, had your time at UA really taught you nothing? What if he hadn’t shown up or showed up too late? The thought made him sick to his stomach. There were reasons why he didn’t have close relations with most people in his life. Aizawa always tried to maintain enough distance between the two of you, but it didn’t seem to be making any difference. He still refused to admit to himself how much he cared about you, instead following the safe route and shutting you out.

To get ready for the workweek, you had come up with responses to just about any question someone could ask about the injury’s leftover. Most of the noticeable abrasions you were easily able to hide under clothing. Unfortunately, some around your neck and face were a little trickier. Your colleagues left you alone for the most part, merely asking how you were g. It gave the impression that these sorts of things operate on don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Once the initial discomfort went away, you were left with your classes with Aizawa. You would have just about traded for anything else right now. Neither of you went out of your way to speak to the other, interacting as minimally together as possible. Thankfully it did provide some reprieve. At the end of one of your shared afternoon blocks, you had to turn over some marking you had completed, making eye contact as you place them on his desk. He stared up at you. Tired would be an understatement; he looked exhausted. Eyes redder than usual, and his facial had was longer than you had ever seen him let it go. Ripping your hands away from the paper, your fingers yearned to reach out and touch him, but you turned towards the door and left before your heart could overrule your mind. Despite having walked away from Aizawa, you could see your last conversation with him on replay.

“What if a student saw you and decided today, they were going to be the hero. What if they were hurt or killed?”

“If you can’t take care of yourself off-campus, then maybe you shouldn’t be teaching.”

Could you have had made the wrong decision when taking this job? What were the students even gaining from you being there? Sitting back down at your desk, you start to seriously consider quitting your job. Brows furrowed deep in distress. After turning your computer on, you make quick work to find a resignation template. Writing it made you feel good, like you were in power, that this was your decision to make. Finishing it, you read it over. It kind of felt like you were running away. This wasn’t supposed to be about you. It was for the students. Your feelings for the final decision should take second priority.

Forging on, you sent the document to the printer, waiting for the finished product. Holding it in your hands made it feel much more real, heavier. Sighing, you lean on the nearest desk. Something rustled as you leaned up. Without realizing it, you had sat at Aizawa’s desk. It was full of papers with coffee ring stains and empty jelly drink containers���a reminder of his bad habit you had picked up. You hated cooking, and the supplement drinks weren’t the worst. Aizawa knew what these kids needed better than anyone. And he spoke the truth about your lack of self-reliance and ability being a hindrance to them. It started to feel like your head might burst. You had been thinking about this so hard over the last few days. Is it okay to continue believing that I add value to their education, something because of who I am and cannot be replaced with someone else? With another sigh, you look up at the ceiling, lights screaming at you. But what was really bothering you, what were you avoiding?

Of course, it was Shouta. You wish you could take back how you felt, gather it all together in your arms and pull it back in. Sometimes it bordered on hating how you felt. Giving someone that much power and influence over yourself only ever ended in anguish. Then what do you do? How do you continue to move forwards and push past these obstacles? What is it that I can’t stop myself from falling for? Could it be something I’m searching for and missing in myself?

Your eyes closed as you stood up from the desk. Opening them, you walked back over to your desk and began to open your bag.

“I think there should be…Aha!” you withdrew two jelly pouches. Assessing the flavors, you chose your preference and placing the other on Aizawa’s desk, separate from the empties. The poor guy really did need to talk better care of himself. At least you seem to hold that advantage. Feeling a little more optimistic, realizing that Aizawa was also human. He didn’t have everything covered all the time. You left work for the day reviewing and reanalyzing everything you had just thought about.

#my hero academia #bnha #mha #fanfic #fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #aizawa x reader #aizawa x oc #smut #angst and smut #angst #mha smut #bnha smut #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta

[heli0s-writes]

IV. I’m in the mood for love

Summary: Beyond the sass and the crass lies a tender moment Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Maybe I wrote myself into a pickle? Idk but I teared up a little at the end. Also this is the most politics I’ll ever put in my work-- let’s keep it civil and chill if we disagree.

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

 It’s a miracle that you had worked up the courage to trot downstairs to return the only covering that separated two bare-ass naked men from your eyes. And not to mention yourself, who was only covered in a towel, too.

You make Steve stand so far around the corner of the doorframe that all he can do is stick out his hand. Bucky rustles the shower curtain impatiently and makes a comment on how “non-hyperverbal” you’re being and you’re too nervous to even respond back. When Buckyeye starts looking at you and the swinging white hem at your shins, you shoo him up the stairs before he gets any other bright ideas.

“Didn’t know you were such a prude.” Bucky comments later as you fiddle around in the kitchen, “But I guess it makes sense-- you still have those stuffed animals on your bed.”

You bristle and glare at him, “Just because you didn’t have a childhood doesn’t mean I can’t.”

It’s a little too mean, and you hear the venom that shoots right into him as soon as it leaves your mouth. “Sorry.” You comment. Damn it. He grew up in the fuckin’ Great Depression where everything was dusty and shit.

“Not all of us can travel the world eating caviar at the ripe age of four.” Bucky snarls. Ugh. Why’d he have to do that?

“Oh, fuck you.” You retort the same time Steve sharply calls Bucky’s name to reel him back in. It doesn’t work, as Steve knows, because when you and Bucky get into it—you get into it.

“You wish, princess. Wait, you’re such a goddamn prude, anyway--”

All Steve can do is cross his fingers and bark, “Buck!”

It’s too late. You’re across the room before Steve can say much else and you’ve launched yourself over one empty couch and straight into Bucky sitting on the other. The force knocks it slightly and it teeters before flopping back with a muffled thud.

Buckeye begins to run around in circles, unsure of the kind of play this particular moment is.

You have no idea what you’re doing, and you doubt you even want to—or can-- hurt him in any way, but you are so finished with his bullshit. You death-grip his hair as you jab both knees into his abdomen. Bucky moves to rip you off, but you clamp your teeth over his wrist and he yelps.

“Fuck you!” You scream, “fuck you so much! I—ow! I fucking apologized, you—Ugh!”

Buckeye, ever the perfect audience member, begins to bark to the rhythm of your screeching and aggressively nudges Bucky’s foot with his snout.

Soldat’s metal hand pushes your face back until its tilted up to the ceiling and further beyond, precariously suspended. The only thing keeping you from cracking your skull on the coffee table is your clinging to his hair. Steve’s concerned expression is upside down and his arms are outstretched, trying to determine the right configuration to pry the two of you apart. “Get that fucking! Aluminum foil finger the fuck away fr---”

“Shut up!” Bucky’s palm smashes against your mouth as his legs wrap around your back until you’re a squished human pretzel inside of him. You’re too crushed even to make any sounds and behind you Steve is sputtering vowels and consonants but not stringing together any real words. Finally, he nearly shrieks,

“Bucky! Jesus! You’re gonna actually kill her!”

Yep. This is how you’re gonna go, you think. The Winter Fucking Soldier has officially had enough of your bullshit, too, and he is going to bear-hug you to death. Who would have thunk it? Your fingers disengage and fall uselessly over his arms.

When time begins to slow and your soul starts to yeet itself from your body, Bucky blessedly lets go. “You’re bluer than I was in cryo.” He sneers.

Steve gasps, scandalized by the comment. For whatever reason, he’s covered Buckeye’s ears, too. You would send him an incredulous look, but you can’t feel your face.

With a pathetic whistle of air, you flop backwards and hang upside down over the couch, thighs gripped tightly by Bucky, heaving deep breaths until your lungs feel like they might burst through your rib cage. No wonder you are not a superhero—fuck the hubris, you are physically not built for this shit.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” You mutter when Steve’s face begins to spin alongside your dog who slobbers all over your nose. Bucky yanks you up by the front of your shirt and the cough that blasts from your mouth goes right into his face. His smug expression twists into one of disgust and you take the moment to waggle your eyebrows suggestively.

Your sour mood has fled and now that you’re absolutely sure you cannot kick his ass—you return to the one thing you do know you’re capable of:

“Hey, baby. Is that a glock in your pants or are you just really happy to see me?”

To drive your point home, you bounce on his lap with a wide grin, wiggling your butt in exaggerated motions.

“Okay! That’s enough!”

Steve scoops you up and plants you back on the other side of the coffee table. “That’s too smart! Too smart!” He scolds as you pat your bottom and then curtsy. Bucky only huffs and crosses his arms, refusing to meet your gaze. Ha-ha. Winter Soldier, meet your match—Ass Woman. No, that just sounds like a porno.

“Alright, fuckers.” You declare, stepping over to the built-in bookshelf around the flatscreen and retrieving a leather-bound copy of The Wizard of Oz. “Ready for chili?”

They watch you open the front and stick your hand inside the false pages and retrieve a roll of bills. “What?” You ask nonchalantly. “Oh—shut up, Barnes. Like you guys really need me to pay back the vet fees. Technically, my tax dollars pay you.”

Steve shakes his head no. So, you casually toss him the roll of cash and then pull out another one.

“Jesus! Will you put these back?”

“Look,” You say, “For every month I don’t come home my mother puts another wad in this box.” You show them the pile of rolled bills, each encased in varying sizes of rubber bands. “She thinks it’ll ensnare me, but joke’s on her, the more I’m away the more there is to spend. She’s not very smart—a consequence of never having to think for herself.”

“And you’re fine with spending it?” Bucky ponders. The relationship you have with your family grows more confusing the longer they spend in your parents’ house. The memorabilia littered in your childhood bedroom seems to suggest that you aren’t completely detached from your family or your childhood. The way you respond to being home is paradoxical, too—disgusted at the excess one minute, reveling in it the next.

“It’s just fucking money. They make so much of it. I couldn’t bankrupt them if I tried. My father has offshore accounts in the fucking Caymans. I literally could not.”

They both pause before Steve speaks up, “Are you an only child?”

You frown. “No.” Then you aggressively push him by the shoulder and toward the exit, motioning for Bucky to follow. “It’s fucking Skyline time.”

Suddenly, you pause at the door and turn around to put both your hands on your hips. Looking both of them up and down, you shake your head impatiently. Steve is wearing his civilian Captain America outfit again. And Bucky, honestly, Bucky looks like someone cosplaying Bucky.

“Who dressed you?” You demand, exasperated, “You guys like, do spy stuff? It’s baffling to me that you don’t get caught immediately. Steve—khakis?”

Upon being admonished, he scoffs and looks around, “What’s wrong with my khakis?”

“Will you please tell him something?” You ask Bucky, who only rolls his eyes as if to say, you’re fuckin’ telling me. When it’s obvious that Steve’s poor choices are solely the result of him being an old fuck with no fashion sense, you mumble. “At least switch shirts. I’m going to take Buckeye out… please… fix this.”

-

When you come back, the sight of Steve wearing black and Bucky wearing light blue is so discomforting you cover Buckeye’s eyes. “It’s okay, boy.” You whisper loudly. Bucky flips you off but fixes the hem of the shirt he’s sporting. Steve—for whatever inexplicable reason, has decided to tuck… You quickly yank his shirt from his waistband and shake your head. “Christ, why are you like this?”

--

Untucked and uncomfortable in black, Steve looks at the menu as if the letters on it were runes from an ancient past. He doesn’t understand at all what Skyline Chili is or why it is. They’re coneys—this he does understand. But the rest of it—nope. Why would anyone ever need that much cheese? Bucky mirrors his sentiment by shutting the menu and crossing his arms.

The small bowl of oyster crackers in the middle of the table is being torn apart as you shovel handful after handful into your mouth. There is an inordinate amount of hot sauce sprayed on the top of the crisps, and you wipe your hands haphazardly on a napkin when you’re finished.

“Okay. You feelin’ spag or nah?” You ask, not even looking up. “Spagbol.” You continue, “Spag-y. SPAGHETS!” Then, in a terrible and very offensive Italian rendition, you pinch your fingers together and enunciate, “Its-a-spha-ghetta!”

Bucky slumps down into the booth until you stop. Steve puts his hand over his eyes.

“Why would you put chili on spaghetti noodles?” Bucky hisses.

The waitress arrives right after his question and you reach over to take his hands into your own— still reeking of peppers and vinegar from the hot sauce. “Shh,” You say almost tenderly, “Adults are talking now.”

“I hope you rub your eyes with that hand later.” Bucky snarls.

“I’ll cup your balls with it, instead.” You respond.

The waitress whimpers at the conversation she’s just stumbled into.

--

Six coneys arrive and as well as two plates of spaghetti. You explain to the boys that the Skyline specialty is steamed buns, mustard, special secret spice chili, raw onions, and hella shredded cheese. The noodles come with the same, sans mustard, and if you’re feeling extra frisky— beans. One plate is extra frisky today. Then you unscrew the cap to the hot sauce and shake the shit out of it onto everything.

They are bewildered at the sheer excess of American consumption as you shove almost half a coney into your face. Cheese flops down onto your plate.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” Steve whimpers.

“Big baby, wimpy, Stevie can’t eat the cheesy?” Between mouthfuls, you’re still a dick. “Just try it! What are you, six?”

He glares at you and then sends a puppy-dog look to Bucky who already is lifting a coney to his face. You take another bite and watch them do the same.

Immediately, Steve coughs. Bucky starts laughing so hard he drops the pile of shredded cheese all over the table. You tuck into the overflowing plate of spaghetti, hot noodles melting the cheddar on top into an amalgam of gooey yellow. “I can’t do it.” Steve groans, “This isn’t right. This isn’t what God wanted.”

“God is dead, bitch.” You reply, “There is only Skyline Chili.”

--

“So what’s your deal?” Bucky asks from the couch.

The three of you have returned back to the house, winding down for the night. It’s eight now, and you’ve driven them around the city just to show them the sights. The gentrified downtown with its bustling crowd of young, white party-people interspersed with streets of dilapidated buildings and homelessness. There’s a bitterness to your voice when you talk about the changing scenery—but a kind of sadness, too. You admit you don’t really know the solution. The business brings in money to the city, but all the people left behind are really getting left behind.

You show them the more relaxed areas, like Over the Rhine and point out its massive brewery. You promise to take them there soon. There’s also the famous Cincinatti Zoo, and King’s Island, where you swear is better than where Steve wanted to go- Coney Island #2. There’s no point in taking him there, you declare when he starts to sputter, because he only wants to go to shit all over it, and because King’s Island is way cooler.

“What do you mean?” You ask back, flipping through the stations with your feet propped up on the coffee table. Steve and Bucky are sitting side-by-side under a blanket. There is a bowl of chips and hummus shared in their laps since Steve refused to eat during dinner and is now very cranky.

“All of this. Excess. Money. And then... you.” he waves to the house, then to you, sprawled out carelessly on a leather couch in mismatched pajamas. Buckeye’s head is faithfully in your lap, big eyes peering up at you, as if he’s waiting for an explanation too.

“You hating on my penguin top and pumpkin bottoms or what?”

“C’mon...” Steve beckons, knowing that your deflection is just another cop-out.

So, you groan, because they’re teaming up on you and after almost three months it’s bound to happen. They’ve told you so much about themselves already. You’ve learned all about the personal lives of the Commandos, the war stories, serums and experimentations, the cryo, the trial after the Triskelion... the blood, and sweat, and all of Steve Rogers’ tears.

“Well... it’s not as exciting as you think it is.” You mutter, tugging on Buckeye’s ear, finding the texture comforting under their persistent gaze. “Just a dumb girl born into an obscene family.”

But you tell them, truthfully and genuinely. Your family has old money- oil, or steel, probably both. As a result, you grew up in the lap of luxury, private schools, language programs, singing classes, dance lessons, horseback riding, trips to Europe and Asia, enormous birthday parties and a line of suitors as soon as you started growing breasts. The worst part, you admit, is that you loved it.

The picture they picked up in your room was from junior prom, and the date was a boyfriend- family friend- you’d been with for about six months, and he already planned on proposing. That was just how it was. Rich people marrying other rich people continuing the line of one-percenters.

Really, you say, your family was maybe the 10 percenter-range. As rich as maybe low A-list movie stars, not quite Jeff Bezos. But you know him, too.

“What changed?” Steve wonders out loud for both him and Bucky.

“Living in New York.” You half-smile at the memory of Union. “After Ohio State, I went to Union for my graduate studies and it blew my shit wide open. But that’s what happens when you start opening yourself up to other realities.”

You tell them about the immense struggle the first year at Union, feeling ostracized and realizing that your life is nothing like most peoples’ lives, and then beginning to frame your understanding of the world in a different way. You tell them you got mugged once and you felt like you probably deserved it.

“Then the election happened.” You sigh, and they both groan at the reminder. “As you know... it’s just been downhill and fucked. We had a big falling out here over Thanksgiving holiday.”

You didn’t come home in almost two years. You took out loans, you worked two jobs, took a full course load and wrote a thesis, and then went on to your Doctoral program. Your parents reached out to you and you eventually came half-way back into the fold.

“And spending their money?”

Most of the money you get you give to the local shelters. “That’s just direct action, baby.” You laugh. “We go at it, all the time. But you know, I figure... If I have to live in this shit world, might as well be a bastard about it.”

That earns a hearty chuckle from both your guests. “Jesus, that explains a lot.” Bucky grins as you nuzzle Buckeye and plant a kiss on his wrinkly face.

It feels so much better now that you’ve aired all the dirty, 1000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

Steve hops up from the couch and runs downstairs, “Be right back!” He yells. You and Bucky narrow your eyes at the trail he’s padded into the carpet. In the distance, you can hear his rummaging and then thumping footsteps back up into the living room. He’s perfectly in one piece, because he’s Captain Damn America and nearly flying up a flight of stairs ain’t shit.

“I figured this would happen.” He grins, holding up a metal flask. “It’s time to break out the Asgardian mead.”

--

The three of you are drunk on whiskey and space-juice, tumbling around the downstairs living room. You are banging on the piano keys, tapping out a stuttering and off-kilter rendition of The Magic School Bus theme song while they wrestle. Why is it that no matter how old boys get, they still love to wrestle? Around their legs is Buckeye, running around in circles and panting, like a racecar at the Indy—only making left turns, having the time of his life.

“Get a fuckin’ ROOM!” You scream, throwing another shot down.

“You mean your room?” Steve laughs back, head under Bucky’s arm, tapping uselessly on his ribs.

“Captain America, fuckin’ in my room. Carve that on my grave, baby.” You mutter, as the piano lid slams down and you take a bow, knocking the bench over with a crash. “Oops.”

“Thas direct action, baby.” Bucky parrots you, “You’re so fucking lame.”

Buckyeye leaps into the air and licks him on the face. “Fuck!”

“Yeah, defend my honor, Buck!” You whoop. “Not you!” You point to Bucky, who flicks you off with a cackling laugh. The sound of it flutters into your ears like a ghost- leaving cold trails down your back. Suddenly, you get an idea.

“Hey-- you guys on Twitter?”

--

They sit crosslegged on the floor flanking you as you scroll determinedly through what seems to be endless tweets. There are other tabs open, too, of compilations of these. Thirsttweets, you explain. The internet loves and wants to bone the hell out of Captain America. Some of them want the Soldier there too—just watching, apparently.

Steve is seventeen shades of red and a little bit of purple. Bucky keeps cursing under his breath and at one point, you think, is reciting Hail Mary. It’s a million times worse than your playlist.

Who’s Got the Biggest Dick in Baseball is nothing compared to captain america could spit into my mouth and id say thank you

“I would never!” Steve gasps. “Or that!”

The tweet in question says: ruin my life big dorito daddy

“What does that mean?” Bucky groans, a little ruffled by all the lewd attention Steve is getting.

“His back is shaped like a Dorito, duh. Don’t get jealous, big boy. You’re next.”

For whatever reason, Bucky’s tweets are way worse. Maybe it’s his persona—that redeemed baddie type of thing. People eat that shit up like chips and dip—and apparently want to eat him too.

As long as I have a face, Winter Soldier has a seat rearrange my guts, Sargeant Sexy When will James Buchanan Barnes put his fist in me? WHEN? I didn’t know I was into getting choked until I saw that metal arm.

You snort whiskey into your lungs in the middle of reading one out loud and spend the next five minutes with your insides on fire. Steve has his head in Bucky’s lap and there are tears coming out of his eyes both from Bucky’s clenched jaw and you, crumpled into a heap spewing amber.

--

A jazz tune belts out from the surround sound system. Steve has picked a Music Choice station from the seemingly endless list of cable possibilities and of course, being a nostalgic thing, chose Swingers — wait, Singers and Swing. Your brain is loopy with joy.

“Didn’t you say you took dance lessons?” Steve asks nonchalantly.

“Uh-huh,” you sigh on the floor, legs crossed over Buckeye as you pull him down on your tummy. Rolling side to side with you, your dog begins to groan and flop, aggravated at your antics.

“You know, Buck used to dance.”

“Uh-huh, you sure did, didn’t you, big baby?” You kiss Buckeye on the nose.

“Bucky. Bucky, not Buckeye.”

He returns from the restroom with his hair pulled away from his face, changed into a long sleeved soft shirt and sweats. “What?”

“You used to dance!” Steve urges with a flick of his wrist, “Get on out there!” He waves his finger to the carpeted living space where you are spread-eagled, trying your best to keep your dog next to you. Damn it, you want cuddles!

“You want me to lead her? Stevie, I couldn’t lead the girl to water if she were a horse.”

“I am not a whore!” You cry indignantly, shooting up from the carpet and knocking Buckeye over with a yelp.

“A horse! Jesus H. Christ, ya deaf!”

You probably are, you think, as the music slurs itself into one long whine. Bucky grabs you by the hand anyway, determined to prove some point to Steve. He turns you around until you face him and takes a second to start on the right beat.

It’s like a switch has flipped and he becomes all step and sway as he moves to the music, leading you, too. Some vestigial memory digs its way out of your muscles from all those damn dance lessons and your feet point and tap along with him, hips rocking when he spins you around and pulls you back. A grin slowly breaks across his face, big and lopsided, all teeth.

You feel like a little puppet in complete submission to him as he expertly uses the perfect amount of momentum to change your course.

Laughter bursts forth from your mouth as you whirl dizzily around Bucky, hands clamped tightly in both of his. The room is a blur of colors and the blue of Steve’s eyes, watching.

At one point, you stand hip-to-hip side-by-side and kick your feet together before he takes you by the waist and dips you low. You’re breathless as he laughs, mirroring your puffs of warm air from above, wild with motion— his hair slipping from behind his ear to hang over your forehead.

“Holy shit you got moves.” You proclaim as the song finishes and he tugs you up with a satisfied chuckle. A slower melody comes on and you move to return to the couch where Steve is sitting with Buckeye, but Bucky tugs you again, closer.

He places one hand behind your back, resting on the ridged thread-bare waistband of your pajama shorts, and the other one he holds up to his chest. You blink away the fuzzy spots from your eyes and peer at him, looking so far away even though he’s just inches apart. His expression has changed, dropping into something distant and removed and staring straight through you.

You see it now. He’s not Bucky anymore.

It hits you like a bag of bricks, that this is James Barnes, in all his glory as a beautiful Brooklyn boy. Out dancing with a girl. Laughing, just like this: bristled, square-jawed and cleft-chinned. Wide, pouty lips. Bright steel eyes. Before he was a soldier, he was just a boy.

Before he was The Soldier, he was just a boy.

His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes a deep breath. The crooning in the background is tender, melodic, with the singer’s sweet voice pining for her loved one accompanied by delicate plucks of a piano.

Once, too, he pined.

The tears in your eyes spill over when you press your mouth to his. Bucky lets go of your hands and you catch his face with them, instead, holding onto his head, fingers grazing his ears and neck and brushing away his hair. You kiss him as if he might be shipped out to war tomorrow. It hurts even more to know that he probably had a night just like this, in the arms of a girl he loved, right before his entire life changed.

And then, you tear away and look at the couch where Steve sits, chewing on his lip, red-eyed too. You sob uncontrollably when you rush around the table and into his arms. He wraps them around you, pushes his face down into your shoulder.

“I love you guys.” You whisper, curled up in Steve’s lap, because the story of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter was never explicit in the history books, but you know it too. “Oh God. I’m so sorry it’s like this. I’m so sorry.”

Steve forgets sometimes, that they were ripped out of time. He forgets the torment and tearing of Bucky’s entire being. They busy themselves in tomorrow and moving forward so much that they bury how the things that made them also broke them.

You are clinging onto his shirt, crying for him now, for both of them. Two handsome soldiers, living, dying, resurrected again. Having only each other to know and hold.

Sergeant Barnes of the 107th closes his eyes and presses his lips together. When he opens them, he is Bucky Barnes of the terrible, modern age once more. He crosses the room quietly, as he always does, as he was made to do. He sits down next to Steve as you look up at him with love and sympathy and so much sadness he can’t stand it. He links his hand in yours and smiles in a way that cracks your heart right open.

“Don’t get weird, kid.” Bucky whispers with moist lashes. Your laugh is strangled when it escapes your throat, all wet and whine as you squeeze his fingers tighter.

“I love you. You don’t understand.”

Steve breathes a sigh into your shoulder and rubs his damp cheeks on the penguin print of your sleeping shirt. From next to him, Buckeye looks up quizzically and gives his arm a long, slow lick.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mutters, swatting at your dog’s snout lovingly, lips pressed into your collarbone. Then, he kisses you too, tipsy and torn open. In the background, Julie London sweetly croons:

If there’s a cloud above and it must rain, we’ll let it.

But for tonight, forget it.

I’m in the mood for love.

Next Chapter

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky #self insert #fanfiction #FiMS

[clericbyers]

I just feel that the fandom really needs someone to rewrite the movie date byler scene except when they're looking at each other's lips they actually do something about it

then i hope the fandom may be pleased

————————————————

Mike biked under the pink and blue neon lights that spelled Starcourt up above on the entrance to the new mall. He was panting from the ride, the summer night’s warm breeze not enough to cool his body from the exertion he put into the ride. He skidded to a stop and hopped off the bike seat as Lucas approached him, Max and Will flanking either side of him.

“You’re late. Again.” Lucas announced as if Mike didn’t know that already. Mike turned to him, noting his irritated posture and Max’s equally irritated raised eyebrows. Will was a bit more patient, he always was when Mike was concerned, but he knew the brunette was just as irritated as Lucas and Max, he just wasn’t prone to showing it.

“Sorry,” started Mike with a heavy huff. He slid his bike between the metal bars next to Lucas’ bike and turned to face his friends.

Will stepped forward with a small frown and Mike’s gaze moved to him without a second thought. The lights tinted his face blue and made the shadows in his gaze darker. Mike felt a bit guilty about his lateness just looking at Will but he stuffed that emotion down and refused to let it cross his face when Will spoke up. “We’re gonna miss the opening.”

“Yeah,” snorted Mike, “if you guys keep whining about it. Let’s go.”

“If you guys keep whining about it,” Lucas mimicked as Mike approached by him. The immature urge to stick his tongue out at the other boy struck Mike but he shoved it aside as he patted Will’s arm in a motion for him to follow his lead.

Mike shoved a little at Lucas when he wouldn’t move and kept making faces during his Mike mimicry. “Just please stop talking about it, dude.”

Will laughed. It was a light chuckle that mostly went unnoticed in the bustling crowd but Mike could always hear Will’s voice no matter what other noises surrounded them. He turned on his heels and walked backwards for a few steps to send Will a returning small smile, only turning back when Lucas shoved him a bit and grumbled under his breath for him to keep moving.

“Let me guess though,” Lucas began after clearing his throat, “you were too busy fawning over El to remember to check the time?”

“Oh yeah, real mature, Lucas,” snarled Mike. “How many times do I have to tell you we’re just friends now?”

Lucas kept making kissing sounds and Mike really wanted to punch him. “Mwah, mwah, mwah; Oh El, I want you back so we can kiss forever and ever like we used to and never hang out with any of our friends.”

Mike turned on Lucas with a glare. “I do hang out with you guys even when we were together; what do you think this is? Me and my imaginary friends?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re imaginary to you now.”

That stung a lot. Mike grit his teeth and increased his stride as he turned back toward the crowds. His eyes followed the messy lines and jumbled colors of typical modern fashion and it was an easy distraction from Lucas’ words even if it spiked his anxiety. He could hear Max reprimanding Lucas but he didn’t bother to comment on anything and simply forged the path ahead through the crowds for his friends to follow. Will came up beside him and his simple presence managed to calm Mike down for reasons he didn’t understand and didn’t really want to understand. It was completely normal that Will helped Mike’s negative emotions dissipate, right? They’d been friends forever and Will knew what to do to help Mike as much as Mike knew how to help Will. They knew each other like no one else—hell, he was the only one in the Party who knew exactly why Mike and El broke up two weeks ago.

I don’t think you like me enough for this, Mike.

Distracted by his thoughts, Mike stumbled off the escalator and bumped into a teenage girl, who glared at him as he apologized and regathered his balance. Embarrassment coursed through his veins but he trudged on, keeping his head down as Lucas bickered with his younger sister. Will’s hand brushed against Mike’s when he nervously brought a hand up to play with his bottom lip and he turned to face the shorter brunette, eyebrows raised even though Will wasn’t looking up at him. The distraction was enough though and Mike felt not an ounce of anxiety as the quartet turned into Scoops Ahoy.

Mike quickly strode to the countertop bell and tapped it 7 times as Robin rolled her eyes. She never seemed to like them when they arrived; her mood almost constantly dropped once she spotted them enter the ice cream parlor. Mike was never quite sure why but she seemed to always target her irritation toward him in particular. Secretly, he wondered if Robin had some unresolved girl business with Nancy and he found himself caught in the middle of it by being Nancy’s brother. “Hey dingus, your children are here!”

The back window slid open and Steve Harrington appeared looking displeased as always. He obviously hated working here, looking dorky in his white sailor hat that had Ahoy blazed across the fabric in a cheerful manner that contrasted the annoyance on his face. “Again? Seriously?”

Mike pursed his lips and gave Steve an unamused look, ringing the bell one last time.

Steve let them through the back of the shop with the usual reminder. “I swear if anybody hears about this, you’re dead.” Mike smirked to himself though; they knew how to be sneaky, more than anyone in this town probably knew. Some of the largest government secrets were secrets held by them, nightmares that followed them in shadows in the months since the Mind Flayer possessed Will and El closed the gate. The Party knew how to keep quiet so Steve had nothing to worry about, yet it still humored Mike that he felt a need to constantly give them a reminder.

The group rushed down the halls to the theater’s side exit and Mike opened the door to check and see if anyone was coming. When the coast was clear, he motioned for his friends to follow him into the theater playing Day of the Dead. They arrived just as the final preview was ending on screen, Mike making his way toward a pair of empty seats as Max and Lucas did the same two rows ahead of them. It was always like this; Mike and Will, Max and Lucas. No one had to say a thing about how they arranged themselves from even day one. Even when Dustin had joined them the week before he went to camp, he sat with Lucas and Max on Lucas’ other side and kept bickering with him about the snacks he had snuck inside. Now though, without Dustin there to be a buffer to Lucas and Max’s movie date, that changed the way Mike and Will ended up pairing themselves. Or at least it did in Mike’s mind. He couldn’t speak for Will. Did Will even realize how they were paired up like this, like couples? Even if he and Will weren’t a couple—which Mike still didn’t know how to feel about, which was even more confusing because shouldn’t his answer be that he’s completely fine with not being with Will that way?—they still never bothered to sit separately or even sit in the same row as Lucas and Max.

When the boys settled in, Mike called out to Lucas to bite back about how they made it on time. Lucas made some side comment back that Mike couldn’t really hear, but it had Max giggling so he wasn’t too unnerved by what he could have said. Will shifted beside him so Mike turned his attention on him, ooh-ing when he noticed Will was the one who had brought snacks this time around. He reached into the bag to grab a soda can and a bag of Skittles, raising an eyebrow at Will’s D&D character binder inside the backpack. He tapped at it, curious as to why Will was carrying it around, but Will merely gave him a look before grabbing the rest of his goods to distribute to Lucas and Max. Mike settled into his seat and cleared his mind of the day’s grievances, letting the hours he had spent at Hopper’s cabin helping teach El a little bit more about the basics of the world wash over him as the theater dipped into darkness and the feature film projected onto the screen. His concentration was ensnared by the movie and when the film suddenly flickered to a stop and the screen blanked, he was snapped out of the slight hypnotism and felt exasperation fill his chest with a displeasured moan.

The theater was filled with people protesting the sudden black out. Mike hated the noise and he rather wished everyone would silence and simply wait for the theater staff to fix the problem. A shiver went up his spine at the thought of this darkness lasting for the rest of the night and he fought against his eye’s natural inability to see in darkness to spot Lucas and Max talking between themselves as everyone waited. It didn’t take long for the projector to start back up and the film wound itself where it had stopped. The theater broke out into cheers and excitement and Mike smiled to himself, chancing Will a glance to spot the other boy smiling softly yet not as enthusiastic as everyone else. He watched Will for a moment longer, unsure if everything was really as fine as the crowd seemed to think it was. Will brought a hand up to his neck, rubbing slowly as if feeling for something and Mike leaned in.

“Hey,” he started softly, kindly, gently, lovingly, like he spoke toward no one else.

Mike was worried; Will’s face had gone slack with something akin to horror but the darkness of the theater left Mike unable to know for sure. Will gasped at Mike’s voice though and started to pull his hand away as he turned to face Mike. He seemed discombobulated, yanked from his thoughts violently enough that his face was left vulnerable to any and all emotion. When he looked at Mike, his eyes began to soften and Mike felt his heart repeatedly cartwheel in his chest from the intensity of his gaze. Will’s lips softened into a gentle smile and Mike couldn’t help but look down at the curvature of his lips, his thoughts racing at the proximity between them as the crowd continued their noise.

A beat passed. Will parted his lips, tongue peaking out to wet the pink flesh, and Mike’s heart jumped off a cliff. Will suddenly shook his head and grabbed his backpack. He stuffed his things inside as Mike watched him wordlessly with a crease in his brow. “Will?” he whispered, hesitant to get up yet his legs did so without conscious action of it. “You okay?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he panted, which was odd given his breathing had been fine just a few seconds ago. Will pointed toward the exit. “I just need a breather.”

Mike heard someone in the row behind him whisper at him to sit his tall ass down but he sent the owner of the voice a glare before reaching out toward Will. “You sure? You can leave your bag with me you know.”

Panic returned to Will’s face like he had something in his bag that he didn’t want Mike to see. He clutched the backpack closer to himself and stood up. “Of course; I just need…I need air.” Mike frowned. Will was rarely this flustered so it would be hard for him to convince Mike he was truly okay. “I’ll be back.”

Mike followed him anyway, pretty sure the people behind him hated his guts for standing up for so long. And with Will gone, Mike wouldn’t be to concentrate on the movie anyway. His mind would be too worried about what exactly was troubling Will. Mike clambered over people’s laps and apologized as his legs knocked their knees but he had to quickly make his way after Will. He called out for the boy once he reached the theater lobby, brown eyes searching through the night crowds for the familiar face of his best friend. He turned on his heel to rush toward the bathrooms, figuring Will might had hid in there to avoid people and find some solitude. Mike felt a bit guilty about possibly breaking Will’s solitude but he knew Will wouldn’t really mind. He was comforted by Mike’s presence too and that similarity between them would always ensure that Mike would be there for his friend as much as Will was there for him.

“Will?” he asked once the bathroom door closed behind him. It was surprisingly empty—he expected more people inside but was grateful that he hadn’t simply stumbled into another crowd. One of the stall doors was closed so he went to the plastic door and knocked three times. “Will, are you there?”

“I thought you were gonna stay and watch,” came Will’s weak response. He didn’t sound like he had been crying—Will was a very strong-hearted boy and tears only came in the most emotionally draining of times—but he sounded very exhausted and defeated.

Mike leaned against the door. “Maybe if you hadn’t bolted from the theater like you did, I would.”

“I’m sorry.”

Guilt punched Mike’s stomach. “No, no, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” He turned to face the door and pressed a palm against it. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Will shuffled on the other side. “I’m fine, Mike. You don’t need to harp.”

“Can I come in then? I know you’re not taking a dump.”

Laughter. Sweet, refreshing laughter even if it was tainted with a bit of hysteria from emotional distress. A click came next. “The door is unlocked.”

Mike opened it and clambered inside. He somewhat regretted the decision when he turned to lock the door and found they really didn’t have much room between them like this. Will was seated on the commode, knees pulled up to his chest as he rested his chin on his knees. Mike felt his heart squeeze in sympathy at the sight. His eyes caught Will’s backpack on the cold, tile floor beneath them and he pointed to it. “What’s in the bag you don’t want me to know about?”

“What?” Will looked over at it and his cheeks went pink. “Oh. Nothing important.”

“Your D&D binder is in there.”

Will shrugged. “That’s nothing to write home about.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I just,” and Mike knelt down to grab the backpack, only stopping when Will cried out and untangled himself to reach down and grab it before Mike could.

Will’s hand fell on top of Mike’s and Mike could feel his cheeks burning with heat at the feeling. He was often the one always reaching out, always touchy and comforting in the way he knew worked best with Will, but Will rarely took his hand first, rarely nudged him first, rarely touched first in general, but then Mike was reminded of Will’s fingers brushing against his hand when he was anxious in the mall’s crowds earlier that night. He tried to think back on all the little things Will did to comfort him as he stared at Will’s unmoving hand, and when he looked up, Will was staring right back at him. His eyes were large, green-hazel irises vibrant under the fluorescent bathroom lights. Pink dusted his cheeks in a flush that alluded more toward blush than any physical exertion. His nostrils flared once, flashes fluttering when his eyes darted down to Mike’s lips and—oh, they were so close like this. If Mike really thought about it, he could faintly feel Will’s breath on his lips, more of a ghost feeling than anything, and he…he liked it.

“Mike,” croaked Will. His voice was filled with fear and uncertainty. Mike wanted to wash it away and fill the boy’s soul with comfort and nurtured protection.

Mike slowly turned his hand so his palm was up against Will’s and he didn’t break eye contact with Will as he arranged his hand so he could slip his fingers between Will’s own. He squeezed once, watched the pink in Will’s cheeks turn red, and he knew exactly why he was bothered by the fact that he and Will weren’t together that way. “Whenever you get that view-master feeling,” he started, watching Will’s eyes comically widen, “and you feel stuck between the slides—,”

“—remember you’re not alone.” Will whispered along, his voice shaking at the edges. “Crazy together.”

Mike squeezed Will again, letting his thumb rub the back of the other boy’s hand. “Never forget it’s crazy together. Not just you, not just me. Both of us.”

And then Will kissed him.

Mike’s eyes widened and he released Will’s hand out of shock. Before he could even physically react—mentally, he was jumping between absolute elation and pure fright—Will pulled away and started climbing off the toilet seat. His face was vibrant red and he refused to make eye contact with Mike as he grabbed his bag and stood up, making his way around Mike toward the door. When he heard the click of the door unlock, Mike quickly stood up, gangly limbs flailing as he reached up to grab the top of the door and keep it shut. This pinned Will between the door and Mike’s chest, which had the brunette panicked when he spun around to protest Mike’s sudden actions. Mike reached down to lock the door and then grabbed Will’s face before leaning in to kiss him. He probably looked stupid, eyes squeezed shut and lips puckered like an idiot even though he knew he should let his lips relax and melt against Will’s own. He knew how to kiss and how to let someone kiss him, but nervousness had him acting like he was 12 again.

Maybe it was apropos that he was kissing like a 12-year-old: sloppy, miscalculated, too firm with pressing their lips together and pressing his nose into Will’s cheek. It made Mike feel like he was having his very first kiss all over again; a rebirth of sorts if he really thought about it. Eventually he relaxed and loosened his lips until he had Will’s top lip between his own. He sighed as he pressed in gently, gasping when Will squirmed against him and deepened the kiss as his fists clung to the lapels of Mike’s jean vest. He kissed Will again and again, each kiss belaying a promise to be together, and Will kissed him again and again, repeating the promise and making his own in turn. It was slow; each boy caught in the overwhelming feeling of their lips pressed together and tasting each other and the sizzling emotions that buzzed through them from the constant yet morphing contact.

Mike never wanted this to end. He never wanted to stop tasting Will on his lips but the bang of the bathroom door opening combined with hearty, loud laughter had them splitting apart with a quickness. Will paled so fast Mike thought he would go dizzy from the blood loss but Mike motioned for him to sit on the toilet and pull his feet up so people could only see one pair of legs under the stall as they walked by. Only the sounds of the intruders filled the air. Mike and Will weirdly avoided eye contact with each other until the bathroom emptied out and Will let out a held breath. Mike wasn’t sure if the kissing mood was back—kissing in a bathroom stall was a bit gross anyway—but he really wanted to kiss Will again and ensure that what happened between them wasn’t a dumb vision in his head. He couldn’t find the words to ask though and Will was already climbing off his seat and silently squeezing past Mike to open the door.

They didn’t speak anymore as they left the bathroom stall. Will stood beside him as they both examined themselves in the mirror, fixing their hair and washing their faces so the fish looked more natural in case anyone started asking questions. Mike could feel Will’s body heat like a heater and he wanted to tuck himself next to it for the rest of his days. They walked out the bathroom together too, still silent as they made their way back to their theater and returned to their still empty seats. Lucas and Max watched them with worried gazes but Mike waved them off and they turned back to the movie with shared shrugs.

Mike had practically convinced himself that making out with Will in the bathroom had been a trippy hallucination by the time the movie reached its final scenes. He felt weird, disappointed almost, that he finally realized what he wanted and figured out why El was right when she said he didn’t like her enough to be her boyfriend. But then a calm warmth covered his hand on his thigh and Mike quickly turned to Will, who was blushing but still watching the movie. Will’s fingers started tapping against Mike and it took him a moment to realize it was Morse code.

Is being together okay?

Mike nodded and used his other hand to tap Will in return. More than okay. A pause. What was in your backpack though?

Will sent him a shy smile. I’ll tell you later.

And later, when Lucas and Max left Starcourt before they did, Will opened up his backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper from his D&D binder that he quickly folded and pressed it into Mike’s hand. “Don’t be grossed out or whatever when you see it.”

Mike watched blue and pink dance on Will’s skin, giving him an enchanting glow that added to the surreality of the situation. He tucked the paper into his jeans’ pocket with a shrug. “I had your tongue in my mouth earlier so I don’t think a love letter is gonna phase me.”

Will swatted Mike and grabbed his bike. “It’s not like that! Just a stupid doodle.”

The ride back into the resident part of town was spent with Mike teasing Will and trying to guess what exactly was on the paper. Will wouldn’t budge with the details but he did whisper a small thank you when Mike wordlessly passed by the Wheeler’s house and followed Will all the way home. On the Byers’ porch, Mike teased Will with one more joke before kissing his cheek and wishing him a goodnight. Will’s eyes were glowing so bright he could probably outshine the stars and Mike felt cozy inside knowing he had a part in making Will this happy.

At home, Mike unfolded the sheet of paper in the privacy of his room and laughed. It wasn’t much—just their initials in some fancy calligraphy with a heart drawn around it—but it certainly would have been embarrassing for Mike to see without Will’s explicit permission. He traced the letters with a steady finger, thinking about how Will had spent his time drawing this out with the idea that it would be something he could never confess yet kept it close to himself in his backpack for who knew how long. Mike wondered if Will ever planned to show him but figured that was a question that didn’t need an answer. He refolded the sheet and tucked it in the back of his dresser before climbing into his bed to sleep on the exciting and life-changing fact that he, Mike Wheeler, was together with Will Byers.

(The next morning, when Jonathan was stopped by Joyce and she smeared Nancy’s lipstick from his cheek, Will called it gross because, well it kinda was. Joyce claimed that he wouldn’t find things like that gross once he fell in love. Will paused as he grabbed the maple syrup bottle, acted as if he was deeply contemplating something, and then shook his head as he began to pour. “It’s still gross,” he replied, smiling when Joyce’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to ask who Will had fallen in love with, only to be distracted by the fallen magnets on the floor near the fridge.

She never did get to ask but it wasn’t necessary when she reunited with the kids at Starcourt and watched how Will and Mike gravitated toward each other. They weren’t subtle even when they were trying to be, just as kids usually are about their romantic entanglements, and Joyce could do nothing but smile despite the seriousness of the situation as the two boys tried their best to hide the affectionate gazes they couldn’t help but exchange.)

#byler #byeler #yams writes #been sittin on this for a hot minute so!! #here u are anon #if u know how i feel about d&d being code for byler then you know will keeping his semi-confession in his d&d binder had to be done #it just had to #anon #yams answers

[sepublic]

Rough Draft for a Venom Sequel Plot

So in light of Andy Serkis being set to direct the upcoming sequel to Venom, and other similar news, I thought it’d be fun to bring up a rough draft I made for a Venom sequel, shortly after I’d watched the movie in theaters.

It’s actually the first of a few rough drafts I had in mind for Venom 2, as well as a  Venom 3. I also had ideas for a Venom 4, and maybe even Venom 5 and 6, but I’m not entirely sure.

For now, though, I thought it’d be fun to share some of these ideas had! I hope anyone reading this enjoys!

Warning: Mentions of Abuse, Bloodshed, etc. below. The idea is that this film will be Rated R, so expect some heavy content.

           The movie starts off with a prologue of the initial origins of the Carnage Symbiote (AKA Red). Perhaps it was born of Life Foundation scientists scraping together bits and pieces from Venom and Riot. Alternatively, Red lands on Earth on its own. Either way, it has arrived, or is about to.

           Cut to a scene of an abusive husband doing typical horrible things in a poor neighborhood apartment. The poor wife is screaming for help, and the terrified son is watching. Eventually, the son musters up the courage and yells at his father to stop.

           The abusive father, in a calm rage, turns around and advances, lashing out and asking if the son ‘wants some’. Right on cue, the wall bursts, and in comes Venom with the biggest, dumbest, shit-eating grin on his face. “I want some!” He muses. The abusive man screams and tries to run, but Venom ensnares him.

           Venom tells the man that he will never hurt anyone again- No doubt due to the fact that he’ll be eaten. Venom then opens his mouth and lunges in, but instead bites the man’s arm off instead. The man, terrified, runs off, trying to staunch the bleeding. Within, Venom complains that he only got to eat PART of the guy, and Eddie muses that the two shouldn’t abuse their power too much.

           The terrified son, meanwhile, approaches Venom and asks who he is, and what else to do. Venom tells the son to always protect his mother –unless SHE abuses him, too- and then turns to leave, before adding the iconic “We are Venom” line. Then Venom swings away, having developed web-slinging as a technique.

           Cut to a montage of Venom going about, helping in whatever anti-hero way he can. A would-be rapist is quickly gulped up by Venom. A corrupt corporate dude manages to cheat people out of money, but Venom crashes in and forces him to return the money, threatening to eat the guy. Said dude questions how Venom knew of this, and Venom muses that he has ‘sources’ (AKA Eddie’s investigative journalism). A person is selling drugs and ruining lives and is predictably devoured, as is a human trafficker.

           Throughout the montage, we have Venom cracking really cheesy, edgy one-liners that he unironically enjoys and thinks are actually cool. Eddie can’t be bothered to break the truth to him, not that it matters all too much.

           The montage ends with Eddie and Venom overlooking San Francisco. The two discuss their recent string of crime-fighting, as well as subtler affairs involving Eddie’s own journalism. Venom is occasionally used to do things Eddie can’t legally do. All in all, it’s a good life, and Venom agrees with Eddie that their symbiosis was quite beneficial.

           Suddenly, the two spot some generic bank robbers getting away with a heist. The pair give chase, but are soon hindered due to disagreements on how to act. This slows down the duo and causes them to freeze up in vital moments, and it ends with Venom crash-landing in an alleyway while the robbers get away.

           Miffed, Eddie and Venom ask each other what the hell was THAT?! The two begin arguing over how they should’ve done this, or that… Their debate cools down with Eddie trying to break it simply to Venom, and Venom in return admits that back at his home, just called Homeworld, things are rather different. Recalling this, Eddie asks Venom what his home was like.

           Right on cue, we cut to an unknown alien space craft infiltrating earth’s atmosphere, undetected by satellites and sensors. It lands somewhere, and out come a group of Klyntar. Among them are Plague, the Apocalypse group, Clash, etc. (Basically some Symbiote OCs I made up) It’s clear some are currently inhabiting alien hosts, while the others find hosts in humans and even animals.

           The group talks with one another mission-style, trying to find Riot, and they decide to use the knowledge of their hosts to figure out where he is. Eventually one host reveals a memory of a news article about alleged alien sightings, one of whom resembles Riot. It also mentions another black Klyntar, whom the Homeworld squad deduce is Venom. They decide to head to San Francisco, having found a lead.

           We cut to a maximum security prison. We get a look at Cletus Kasady’s daily routine. Because it’s from Cletus’ perspective, he comes off as a cheery dude with a lot of interest in bloodshed, with everyone else exasperated. Other prisoners are creeped about him- Cletus likes to creep them out with smiles, stares, or friendly gestures. We see how carefully guards restrict Cletus, and we find out why. Cletus finds some unorthodox method to badly stab and wound a fellow prisoner, shedding lots of blood.

           As Cletus is restrained, he muses that he loves the smell of blood like coffee in the morning, stuff like that. From the shadows, some scientists watch and mark down Cletus as a candidate for testing.

           We cut back to Eddie and Venom going back to regular life and routine. We get to see Anne and Dan again- Dan helps Eddie and Venom with check ups to make sure the two are fine, and regularly prescribes chocolate, having deduced that it has a Klyntar-friendly chemical. Anne uses her abilities as a lawyer to help Eddie take down corrupt people. It’s a very odd sitcom of sorts between two couples, one of which consists of a human and Symbiote. We also get to see some of Mrs. Chen, and Richard. Both are doing better as of late, and we get to see more of Richard’s family and how busy he is. Eddie always makes sure to help, and Venom remarks that he likes the guy.

           We then get (in no particular order) various scenes. We see Cletus be rudely awoken and seized for an experiment, which he cheerfully ponders about. Cletus is tied down to a chair and injected with something, and in typical Cletus fashion reacts enthusiastically to the procedure. Nothing happens, and scans show the ‘Proto Symbiote’ apparently dying. Giving up, the scientists send Cletus back to his cell. [Alternatively, Red just finds Cletus and bonds to him in his sleep]

           It seems to be worthless, until Cletus awakens to hear a voice in his head. Unfazed, he muses about gaining schizophrenia. The voice clarifies itself as a Symbiote, it thinks… To be frank, it’s not sure. Either way, the two interact, and Cletus explains himself and his world view. Red gets to see Cletus’ life and memories, questioning him on things as Cletus goes through his routine. The regular guards, unaware of the experiments, assume Cletus has gone even crazier. Soon, Cletus and Red hit off and become friends, and Red expresses its own desire to kill. The two experiment on their abilities, and are blatantly peas in a pod.

           Eventually, Red and Cletus decide to act. The old guard that hates Cletus mocks him, and in response Cletus cheerfully lashes out with a long red spear, impaling the guard and killing him. As blood spurts crazily and Cletus cheers, Red becomes exhilarant and enthusiastic. However, their celebration is cut off when alarms sound, and as they hear guards storming in, Cletus bemoans a potential separation.

           Red reassures him, and spawns hands that tear the cage apart. Guards come in and confront Cletus, telling him to put his hands up. Cletus and Red more or less look at each other knowlingly and are all, ‘Ready, Partner’ when Cletus suddenly forms into Carnage. We first see Carnage as a shadow stretching over terrified guards.

           Cut to prisoners just mulling about on an enclosed courtyard, guards nearby, when a guard flies in and hits the wall like a fly, bleeding and torn apart. As everything stops to note, other bloody body is tossed in, and in steps in Carnage- We get to see him in his fully, bloody crimson glory.

           Carnage gleefully greets everyone, expressing a desire to kill- And then goes on a massacre. Because this is from Carnage’s viewpoint, the whole massacre is played off as enjoyable and humorous, probably with an inappropriate song like Mr. Blue Sky playing in the background.

           Prisoners and guards try to escape or fight back, but it’s for naught. One tries to access an elevator, but Carnage is all ‘No no no!’ playfully and kills the schmuck. It ends with the entire floor smeared and awash in blood. Carnage laughs gleefully and dubs itself by its name, due to Cletus noting Carnage to be his favorite word, followed by Massacre, Bloodshed, etc.

           Carnage prepares to leave, declaring “We… no, I am Carnage!” before breaking out of prison and into the night.

           We get a scene of Eddie and Venom’s domestic life and their constant arguing. At one point Eddie questions why the two are together, and Venom muses that it’s because they are the only ones for one another. Next is a cut to Mrs. Chen, taking out the garbage or some other mundane task. She smells something funny and hears dripping, rounds the corner…

           And sees a torn-apart corpse, blood smeared everywhere, the word Carnage painted above the dead body. Mrs. Chen screams, and then we see Eddie and Venom in the midst of an argument, only to get a call from Eddie’s boss about a murder he needs to see.

           Eddie heads off and arrives at the gruesome scene, surrounded by police. He sees the sight and is disgusted, and even Venom is repulsed, noting it to be such a waste of good food before Eddie corrects him.

           As people question who could have done this, Eddie hears about Cletus’ escape and realizes that he has a Symbiote. As the two question how this is possible, Eddie gets notifications of more and more similar corpses being discovered across San Francisco. As this horrifying realization dawns in, we then cut to Carnage happily and darkly slaughtering a victim before setting to work writing his name.

           Eddie and Venom put together a team plan. We see stuff from Anne, Dan, Mrs. Chen, and Richard. The next night Eddie and Venom set out in Venom form, tracking down Carnage, when they’re suddenly ambushed by the Homeworld squad.

           They interrogate Venom, demanding to know why Venom is being a freak and wasting perfectly good food like this, where Riot is, why they fought, etc. It’s clear that neither group is thrilled to see the other, and Venom explains that he found an awesome host named Eddie. The Homeworld Squad is repulsed by the idea, and then hear that Venom killed Riot.

           They all laugh this idea off in disbelief. They’d rather believe that Riot accidentally killed himself, and this irks Venom. Eddie and Venom try to fight, but are clearly outmatched and are forced to retreat. Police rush in and the homeworld squad decides to retreat.

           As Venom escapes, they come across Carnage finishing a murder. Carnage notes Venom and mocks and challenges him before escaping. Venom tries to chase, but isn’t fast enough. Eddie asks Venom if he recognizes Carnage, but he doesn’t.

           Eddie and Venom devise a plan to lure in Carnage. It works- They confront Carnage in a power plant overlooking the sea or something. As the two circle and trade words, Venom asks what’s the deal with ‘I am Carnage’, not ‘We are Carnage’. Carnage explains that Cletus and Red’s symbiosis is so pure and complete that they’re practically singular.

           Venom and Carnage fight, but Carnage is the clear winner in this fight. Venom is constantly struggling and panics, which leads to Eddie and Ven fighting and hesitating. Carnage senses this and acts on it, pinning down Venom. Carnage brags that Venom’s bond is not as strong as his.

           Cue the classic comic scene of Carnage prying Eddie and Venom apart. The two try to keep connected by the tips of their fingers but are torn apart. Venom is flung aside, and Carnage dangles Eddie over a cliff, deciding to spill his blood into the ocean below. Venom attacks from behind, causing Carnage to drop Eddie into the sea below.

           Eddie loses consciousness, and comes to in the hospital with a concerned Dan and Anne. They explain how Eddie was found, and Dan reveals he snuck Venom in to heal Eddie. Ven explains that Carnage left. Venom offers to bond with and heal Eddie, but when he tries the two have issues. Venom is rejected, and the two realize they’re becoming incompatible. The duo becomes frustrated and angry at one another, questioning their bond, and as they fume, Dan timidly suggests they take some time off. The two consider it, but Eddie asks who will defend San Franscisco. Anne volunteers to be She-Venom, low key enjoying the power rush and freedom.

           Eddie heals and decides to take a few days off to recuperate. He interacts with his friends, and Chen and Richard can tell Eddie is down. Meanwhile, She-Venom operates. Ven questions why they should even fight Carnage, who wants humanity alive as much as Venom- Anne tries to explain it in Eddie’s terms, but Venom doesn’t understand. The two at least bond over a mutual love and frustration of Eddie, however.

           Meanwhile, a store owner checks their chocolate stores to see the Homeworld squad devouring it, and is eaten. As Homeworld Squad discusses the delights of chocolate and argue over who got to eat the human, they consider what next to do. Riot apparently is dead- So what now?

           Well, they can at least tell that this planet has plenty of food, so perhaps they can feast- And maybe even head back to Homeworld and bring everyone else. Carnage is listening in on this and acts, tracing the squad to their ship and destroying it, enraging them. Carnage escapes, with Cletus and Red happily noting that Earth must be protected.

           Carnage escapes… only to run into She-Venom, who tries to fight him with a police squad. Carnage pins her down and kills several policemen in a big action sequence.

           We get more Eddie and Richard interaction. Eddie talks to Richard, who has a wife, about relationship issues, avoiding explaining how Venom is an alien symbiote. Richard provides his own advice, while Anne gives Venom her own insight. The two also note that they have greater differences than Eddie and Venom, and laugh over it.

           Eventually, it all culminates in She-Venom trying to fight the Homeworld Squad, being outgunned and outnumbered, until Carnage comes in. Carnage’s bond and skills allows him to defeat the Homeworld squad, with him slicing Plague in half for example. He also utilizes a flamethrower and even a sound device against Apocalypse- Carnage has the stronger bond and outlasts Apocalypse, who gives in and splits before Carnage. Carnage turns off the device and defeats the individual War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death symbiotes. Deprived of hosts, all of the Klyntar retreat into the sewers.

           Carnage is triumphant, and then She-Venom hits him over the head with something. It breaks and Carnage is unfazed, because his bond is stronger. He fights She-Venom, pinning them down and mocking Venom for resorting to a c-list, bootleg relationship. She-Venom reactives Carnage’s device, and while Anne and Venom split, they keep the device on long enough to force Carnage to retreat.

           They agree that they need to get Eddie and Venom back together. Eddie and Venom meet up and try to sort out their differences, but when they try to refuse, they reject one another. It seems neither has sorted things out yet.

           This leads to both getting frustrated again and even lashing out at Dan, before apologizing to him. Anne angrily criticizes Eddie and Venom’s egos, and Eddie storms off.

           He soon gets a call for a job, and gains an informant. This anonymous person asks Eddie to meet at a place, and Richard gives him a drive because Eddie’s bike is busted. Richard waits outside and Eddie confronts the informant in a shadowy parking lot, only for Carnage to emerge, revealing it was a trap.

           Carnage muses that they hated to leave a job unfinished and have come to finish off Eddie. Eddie tries to avoid death, with Carnage playing a game of cat and mouse. He decides to finish things off, when Richard drives the car into him.

           He yells at Eddie to get in, but when Carnage lashes out, Richard takes the blow for Eddie. Eddie is horrified, even as SWAT reinforcements come in. Carnage laughs and decides to let Eddie wallow in misery a bit before leaving.

           Richard dies in Eddie’s arms and asks for him to get back with his friend, before recalling his own wife and kids. Eddie genuinely sobs as the uncertain SWATs surround him, concerned, and the camera pans up to the lonely night sky.

           Cut to Richard’s funeral. A somber Eddie gives a speech, and Anne and Dan arrive. Anne and Eddie discuss, Venom in tow, and Eddie and Venom reach a consensus on stopping Carnage when Venom notes how he liked Richard, giving Eddie a chance to explain things to Venom in more Klyntar terms.

           It’s decided- They have to stop Carnage once and for all. A plan is devised- Dan supplies Eddie with a REM scan machine to hurt Carnage. The plan culminates in She-Venom luring Carnage to some fancy skyscraper.

           Carnage defeats She-Venom, but Eddie comes in with a flamethrower and the REM scan machine. Carnage is seemingly subdued, but She-Venom is split apart. At the last second Carnage lashes out, breaking the flamethrower. The ceiling collapses on Eddie, but not before Venom reaches out to him and vice-versa.

           The rubble lands, and Carnage turns on a vulnerable Anne, musing about her poor life choices and the weakness of Eddie and Venom. On cue, the rubble rumbles and clears apart to reveal a newly-formed Venom and Eddie, now back together and stronger than ever before. As Anne gets somewhere safe, Venom and Carnage circle one another, with Carnage mocking and questioning Venom’s newly-fixed bond.

           In response? Venom challenges Carnage, leading to a climactic final battle beween the two. Floors and windows are shattered, but Venom manages to keep up with Carnage and even land several good hits. It’s clear that their bond has been restored to greater lengths than ever before.

           The battle leads to the basement of the building and its power source. Carnage redoes the tear-apart move on Eddie and Venom, but they remain attached by the fingers. Annoyed, Carnage tries to split them with a knife, but it rebounds, not strong enough. Sure enough, Eddie and Venom fuse back together, and in a smooth motion slam a punch into Carnage, sending him flying into exposed circuitry.

           As it electrocutes Carnage, Venom acknowledges the strength of his bond, before telling him not to underestimate their bond as well. Red fluctuates to reveal a similarly shocked Cletus, and Venom escapes as the building collapses on Carnage, seemingly killing them.

           The protagonists celebrate, as authorities return to report a charred corpse and ashes. The epilogue has Eddie and Venom celebrate their reunification, while visiting Richard’s family to see that they are well.

           As they leave, they notice another robbery on the news. Looking to one another, Eddie asks Venom if the two want another go, and Venom agrees with “With you? Always.” Venom forms and swings off.

           Cue credits. Then there’s an end-credits scene with a wounded, burnt Cletus being interrogated in a lab. Apparently the corpse was a fake. As far as Cletus knows, Red died taking the damage from the shock and collapse to protect him, and he mourns as scientists analyze him. In a dark spot, he closes his eyes, dozing off, and the last thing he hears is Red’s voice reassuring him that they’re ALWAYS there for him.

           In another end-credits scene, a sewer worker is heading down to the sewers to check an issue with the system. Cue a horror scene where he’s cornered in the shadows and drops his flashlight, picking it up just in time to see the Homeworld symbiotes closing in on him. Cue a scream, and darkness once more.

-Additional bits;

-There’s a corrupt tech ceo that Eddie is trying to take down. Perhaps he is the one that Venom intimidates into giving back money. Later, Carnage attacks the person and forces them to create a sound-device against Klyntar for him, as well as explosives to collapse the sewer tunnels on the Homeworld squad under the impression it would kill them. When Carnage lures Eddie in by pretending to be an informant snitching on said CEO, he drops the CEO’s bloody body to reveal that he killed the man shortly after.

-Potentially, Carnage could be the result of scientists implanting ‘Symbiote embryos’ into test subjects, hoping to create a Human-Symbiote bond that is formed through biology. Only Red and Cletus bond, and it’s left ambiguous as to why they worked- Was it luck, or was it because the two genuinely match and enjoy each other? Either way, Red and Cletus’ bond means the two can’t separate from one another, ever. Red, after being implanted into Cletus’ bloodstream, slowly develops and grows within him and initially manifests as just a voice before the two perform their prison break.

-The Scientists responsible for Red are members of some strange cult that worships Symbiotes. They’re led by a masked, cloaked figure with a distorted voice who has an uncanny understanding of Symbiotes despite being human.

-There’s probably going to be a subplot involving Jenna Cole, Andi Benton, and/or Tanis Nieves.

#venom #venom movie #venom sequel #carnage #movie plot #rough draft #writing ideas #eddie brock #symbiote #cletus kasady #klyntar #anne weying #dan #mrs chen #richard #TW abuse #tw blood mention #tw gore mention

[lurafita]

Petvengers Chapter 4

Read chapter 1 here: Chappy 1

Read chapter 2 here: Chappy 2

Read chapter 3 here: Chappy 3

 Bruce/Hulk

If anyone were ever to ask Peter, what it had been like the very first time he met Dr. Bruce Banner face to face, he would tell them that he was the embodiment of sophisticated professionalism, and not at all embarrassing.

If they were to ask anyone else that had been present at the time, however, they would tell a quite different story.

 - (about 2 years ago) -

“I'm really not sure about this, Tony.”

Bruce said, as he was led through the halls of the tower's common floor, by the far too excited engineer.

Tony just grinned.

“Relax, Brucie Bear. I'm telling you, you are going to love the kid. Fair warning though, he can talk. Like, boy, can he talk. If he starts rambling, don't try to get a word in edgewise, just let him get it all out. He will run out of oxygen at some point, and that's when you seize the opportunity to get the conversation back on track. Because, believe me, Pete will somehow manage to totally derail the topic. Like yesterday, when he came over after school, he started out telling me about his and his friend Ted's AP chemistry project, and suddenly we are in a deep, philosophical discussion about the representation of real life issues in children's cartoons. By the way, you should absolutely watch more cartoons in your free time. Some are surprisingly deep. Did you know that Sailor Moon was way ahead of the curve on LGBTQ relationships? And considering the time period in which it first aired, that's saying a lot. And Captain Planet was actually taking on AIDS hysteria in 1992. Not to mention the fact that in Steven Universe, child heroes have to deal with trauma, instead of things just getting swept under the table. Really, this stuff is more educational than you might think.”

Bruce side eyed his friend.

“So the kid goes off on a tangent suddenly and just keeps going, huh? Completely disregarding the topic you were just talking about right before, huh? Wonder where he gets this from. This sounds in no way familiar. At all.”

Tony either didn't catch the sarcasm, or ignored it, and nodded.

“Beats me. Can't be his aunt, that woman is scarily on point. She never let's you forget, or talk your way around anything. She is just like Pepper in that regard. I think its the Italian blood in May.”

Before the billionaire had the chance to get lost in that particular line of thought, Bruce cut in.

“Look, Tony, I'm not worried about whether or not I will like Peter. From all the proud dad raving you have been doing since I got back, I already know that he is a great kid.”

 (“Excuse you! I do not rave! Least of all proud dad like!”)

“I'm far more concerned about the kind of impact standing in a room with the man who turns into a giant, green rage monster at the drop of a hat, will have on a 15 year old. I'm really not looking forward to watching the kid run away in a panic.”

Tony scoffed.

“Oh please. If you turned Hulk at 'the drop of a hat', my tower would have crumbled years ago. Also, the kid is a superhero. He fought a maniac with alien weapons and a metallic bird suit. I'm gonna eat my 1.500,00 $ Italian leather shoes, if the Hulk scares Pete even a tiny, little bit.”

Bruce would have balked at the money that Tony spent on footwear, but at this moment, the two men stepped right into the living room. They were greeted by the sight of Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Colonel Rhodes, and one brown haired teenager. Which might have been a normal enough scene, if said teenager wasn't sitting cross legged on the ceiling, clutching a bag of marshmallows to his chest and alternating between stuffing one into his mouth, and trying to convince both Steve and Bucky that it counted as a healthy snack, since it was blackberry flavored.

And even though Bruce wasn't 'that kind of Doctor' he couldn't help but clear his throat.

“Actually, since the manufacturers have most likely resorted to using artificial flavors and food coloring, you probably have about the same health benefits from those, as if you just ate the sugar straight out of the container.”

Everyone turned to look at the two newcomers, and as the adults all smiled and stepped forward to welcome their friend, a wide eyed Peter lost his grip on both the bag of marshmallows and the ceiling, and fell to the ground in a heap. Before anyone could start panicking though, he was back up and with a kind of chocked off, high pitched scream/gasp, pointed his finger right at Bruce, and exclaimed “Don't move!” Then he ran out of the room.

And while Bruce had mentally prepared himself for just such a reaction, it still left him feeling rather disheartened. A quick glance around at the other people in the room showed three very confused Avengers (they had evidently not expected that reaction out of the boy), one Air force Colonel who was trying very hard not to laugh, and a grinning Tony Stark.

“So, should I be getting you some water to wash your ridiculously expensive shoes down with?”

Bruce asked the billionaire with a dispassionate sigh, but Tony was completely unconcerned.

“Just wait for it.”

They didn't need to wait even a second more after Tony had spoken, as Peter came running back into the room, arms overloaded with books, stacks of papers, and what looked like posters, which he all dumped onto the nearby couch table. Then the teen was suddenly right in front of Bruce and vigorously shaking his hand.

“Oh my god, Dr Banner, this is such an honor. You are like my favorite scientist ever! (Tony's indignant “Hey!” went ignored) I have read every one of your published papers and my friend may have hacked into your old university and found some of your papers that you didn’t publish, and now I realize that that’s not something I should tell you probably, please don’t sue us, but can you please sign everything I own and oh my god I’m shaking your hand and I’m never gonna wash that again ever. And can I get a photo, oh my god Ned is gonna be sooooo jealous!”

All the while Peter had been holding his phone in his other hand, blindly dialed a number and waited for the other person to take the call. Then he pressed the phone excitedly to his ear.

“Ned! Ned! You will never believe who I'm talking to right now! Think of the greatest scientist you know!... Okay, the greatest scientist you know who is currently alive... EXACTLY! (Once again, Tony's “It's like I'm invisible”, was ignored) Dude, I'm looking right at him. I'M SHAKING HIS HAND! … No, I'm not being a creepy fanboy... No, I have not yet let go of his hand...”

Rhodey laughed, Tony was jealously grumbling under his breath, Steve fondly shook his head, Bucky smirked, Natasha examined the impressive pile of things the teenager had brought for Bruce to sign, Peter continued shaking the scientists hand, while staring at him with awe-filled eyes and all but screaming into his phone, and Bruce... Bruce smiled.

 - (back to the present) -

It was one of the rare, lazy, late afternoons on a weekday, that found most of the Avengers hanging out on the newly built terrace behind the tower. The strangling hold that the high temperatures of summer had held over New York city for the last few days, was finally ebbing away and Peter had seized the opportunity to take Hope for an extended walk. (Steve had declined Peter's invitation to tag along. Colonel, Bucky and him had risen early as ever, and already run a few miles) He had also somehow managed to ensnare Bruce in a discussion about something that had gone over the collective heads of everyone around (Tony was still stuck in a board meeting that Pepper had dragged him to), and the dark haired scientist had seemingly unwittingly followed the teen and dog out of the tower.

The two super soldiers had curled up together in the porch swing, Bucky carefully keeping track of Arthur's progress, as the little raccoon tried scaling the garden table that held the snack food. Steve with a sketch pad in his lap, drawing the image of Eames the cockatoo, hopping around said table while chanting “Posh tosser, bloody wanker”, and occasionally dropping down a blueberry to Colonel, who was happily waving his tail at the treats.

Sam, for some reason, found his bird's antics endlessly funny, and was filming the whole thing with his phone.

Clint and Laura had spread a brightly colored blanket over the grass and were having a picnic with Nathaniel and Lila, while Natasha was showing Cooper some easy self-defense moves a few feet away.

When Hope's familiar barking and running feet were heard, the assembled group knew that Bruce and Peter had gotten back from their walk. The over eager Pitbull ran out on the terrace, greeting everyone in turn with happy licks and a wagging tail (he jumped first into the laps of the two super soldiers, let himself be scratched behind the ears, then ran right at Sam, nearly forcing the man to lose the grip on his phone when he licked him right across the face, then launched his furry body onto the blanket with Laura, Clint, Lila and Nathaniel, and patiently waited until all had pet him at least once, and finally trotted over to Cooper and Natasha to join in on their play fight.)

This had been expected.

What was not expected was watching Peter come walking out to the terrace, carrying a huge tortoise (about 25 to 30 inches in length), and grinning widely when setting the reptile down on the grass. Bruce was following close behind the teen, his face a curious mix of shell shocked and confused.

Peter straightened up from his crouch and addressed everyone, while Colonel and Arthur (who was riding on the dogs back), came over to examine the new, slowly moving animal.

“Everyone, meet Bruce's new friend, Speedy Gonzales!"

“She is a 33 year old Sulcata Tortoise. Sulcata Tortoises can live up to 70 years and above, and weigh up to 120 pounds. Speedy isn't that big yet, though. She did grow a bit too big for her previous owner, and the guy was too cheap to invest in a bigger terrarium, because she needs hot temperatures to stay healthy. She will be okay to roam freely during the summer, but we will have to turn one of the guest rooms into a heated enclosure for her when it gets colder.”

The still completely baffled looking Dr. Banner turned to face his friends and coworkers (the Barton's and Natasha had come closer to inspect the newest addition to their home).

“...I don't even know how that happened. … We were talking about the latest research on cross-species genetic transfers, and all of a sudden I'm standing in an animal shelter and signing adoption papers for a tortoise. … I didn't even know shelters had tortoises...”

Sam, Bucky and Steve, who had already been victims of Peter's crusade against a pet-less existence, held up their glasses in a silent salute to the doctor. Natasha proudly nodded at Peter's accomplishment, and he respectfully bowed to his Sensei. Eames had landed on Speedy's massive back, and was seemingly taunting Arthur from his perch. The little raccoon shot the bird a nasty look, and climbed up into Lila's embrace. Cooper and Clint both seemed fascinated with the size of the tortoise, while Hope jumped between the father and son to get back rubs. Nathaniel laughed happily as his mother helped him feed a banana to the reptile.

Speedy Gonzales brought honor to her species, by patiently tolerating the chaos all around her, and chomping down on the yellow fruit.

-

 Bonus: The Hulk!

"Uff!"

Spiderman shook himself free of the last remaining dust particles from the pile of debris he had dug himself out of, only a few minutes ago. All around him were the webbed up enormous bodies of the mutated rats. Some of them were twitching against their spidery cocoon, trying to get out of their bindings. Peter had done his best not to kill any of them, knowing that the animals had been victims of the illegal experimentation of the deranged Professor Stollack.

It wasn't everyday that a hoard of wild, three feet tall, rabid rats tried to take over Brooklyn. The whole team had been called in for some extreme pest control.

While Black Widow and Captain America had gone in search of the perpetrator behind this particular madness, Iron Man, Hulk, Falcon, Hawkeye, Thor, the Winter Soldier, Antman, the Wasp and Spiderman had taken to the streets and taken care of the mutated and very dangerous vermin.

Peter really felt sorry for the rats. While they weren't exactly among his favorite animals, they weren't evil. No animal was. And they didn't deserve to be experimented on and used like this, for one madman's twisted plans. He really hoped they could be returned to their original forms, and not have to be mercy killed.

/"Widow and me have taken the Professor and his underlings into custody. Everyone alright? Status report!"/ Came the Captain's voice over the comms that kept the team connected during battles.

/"I'm good, so is Feather-head."/ It was impossible to miss the smirk in Bucky's voice.

/"You won't be good for much longer if you keep it up with the nicknames, Frosty."/ As long as those two still argued, they were okay.

/"I'm fine, though Legolas might need to be checked for rabies. One of those things got a bite out of him."/ Peter would be way more worried, if Tony wasn't laughing as he said it.

/"My pants, guys, don't worry. No skin was breached. Mighty Mouse over there tore a fucking hole in my pants."/ Came Clint's answer.

/"His ass region, to be more specific. If anyone was wondering, Robin Hood is wearing Paw Patrol undies today."/

/"Look, Nathaniel likes the show, okay? How about we move things along?"/

/"Paw Patrol is cool. Call me when you watch it! I will bring Cassie!"/ Scott's joyful voice sounded.

/"Cassie only watches to keep you company, you know? By the way, Antman and I are both fine."/ Trust The Wasp to keep things under control.

/"I do not know this 'Paw Patrol', but I will gladly join you and your son for a viewing, if it is impressive enough for you to decorate yourself with."/ Fighting alongside the God of Thunder would never be not cool.

/"I'm okay, and I'm totally joining you for Paw Patrol. Got a bunch of the rats webbed up. Maybe Bruce can find a way to turn them back to normal. You know, once he has turned back to normal."/ Peter finally chimed in.

/"Speaking of, does anyone have eyes on the Hulk?"/ It was sadly impossible to equip the green guy with an earwig.

Spidey took a careful look around himself.

/"He was with me for most of the fight... Wait! I see him!"/

He had spotted the big guy a little ways away from his position, seemingly crouched over something. The part-time Avenger and full-time vigilante quickly swung his way to the Hulk.

/"Just... be careful, Spidey."/ Steve's cautious warning almost made Peter roll his eyes. He knew the team worried about his easy and unconcerned interactions with Hulk, and he couldn't really fault them. After all, the Hulk was the embodiment of Dr. Banner's uncontrolled anger, and was therefore, dangerous. But Peter's Spidey-sense never went off when he was around the big guy, or rather, it never went off because of the big guy, so Peter didn't worry. He knew though, that Tony was probably already on his way to them, just in case.

He landed beside the hulking giant.

"Hey buddy! You okay? Something wrong?"

The Hulk looked at him, and then slowly turned, so that Peter was able to see what was before him. The teenaged vigilante paled behind the mask.

On the ground before them laid the remains of what must have been a carton box. One of the pieces was large enough to read the handwritten 'Free to a good home', scribbled on it. Some of the carton pieces were drenched in red. And tiny bones could be seen among them.

Hulk's grumbling voice thankfully pulled him away from the grizzly scene.

"The evil mice were eating them... Hulk was too late to save the others."

Then Hulk turned further, and revealed a small, softly mewling kitten in his palm. The giant, green hand, made the little kitten look even tinier than it probably was. And Peter's heart just melted.

"I'm really sorry, bud, but you managed to safe this one! That's great! You are a hero! Do you mind if I took it for a minute? Make sure it isn't hurt anywhere?"

The Hulk grunted his agreement, and with a gentleness few would ever associate with the big guy, handed the little kitten over. Neither of the two turned around when Iron Man landed just a couple of steps behind them.

"Hey there, big guy. Spidey. You both good? You know, because you might want to let the team know that you are both good. So that the team doesn't worry."

Instead of answering his adoptive father, Peter addressed Hulk.

"She looks fine to me. But we might want to let a doctor check up on her. Just to make sure nothing is broken."

He placed the little kitten carefully back into his green friend's big hand, and the little fluff ball immediately curled up and started purring. Peter pat Hulk's shoulder in congratulation.

"She likes you!"

Iron Man had come closer.

 "Is that a cat?"

Hulk smiled.

"Hulk likes her, too. She is tiny... Like Bug-boy. Hulk likes Bug-boy."

"You know, big guy, I don't even mind you calling me that. I like you, too."

 "No, seriously, where did the cat come from?"

"Puny Banner is a doctor."

"Well, I was thinking more along the line of a veterinarian, but Bruce should be able to tell if anything was wrong with her. Especially with the equipment at the tower. And if all else fails, there is still Helen. She is the best doctor ever."

 "Okay, one, Bruce would throw in that he is 'not that kind of doctor', right about now. And two, what is the deal with the cat?"

Hulk grunted.

"Hulk will go now. So that puny Banner can take care of her. Bug-boy tell puny Banner that Hulk is keeping her."

Peter nodded enthusiastically.

"Great! What do you want to name her?"

 "Am I invisible to you people? What the hell is the deal with the cat?"

Hulk looked down at the purring kitten in his palm, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Little Smash."

Peter grinned.

"That's a great name!"

 "Seriously, am I invisible? Did I die without noticing and am roaming the streets as a ghost now? Were those rats magic? Is this a curse?"

When the Hulk shrank back into his other half, Bruce found himself even more confused than he usually was after a transformation. Beside him, Peter, in his Spiderman suit, was trying to calm down a comically panicking Tony, who was still in his Iron Man armor, and apparently convinced that he had been turned into an astral projection of himself.

He was standing in the middle of a street in Brooklyn (in only his thankfully very stretchy pants), there were big, twitching web cocoons some feet away from them on the ground, and in his hands was a sleeping little kitten, purring up a storm.

Peter paused long enough from reassuring Tony that he was, indeed, both visible and audible, and definitely not a ghost, to quickly address the confused Bruce.

"That's Little Smash! She is Hulk's! He said to take good care of her! Oh, and she might need an x-ray."

Then he was back at pointedly not ignoring Tony.

Bruce looked down at the sleeping kitten in his hands and sighed.

Oh well,... at least she was cute.

#petvengers #fanfic #peter parker #tony stark #bruce banner #hulk #DOMESTIC AVENGERS #pets #turtle #kitten #dog #Hope the dog #clint's underwear #clint barton #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bucky barnes #steve rogers #thor #scott lang #hope van dyne #peter is a little shit #peter tricks ny heroes into adopting pets #tony being ignored #funny #crack #iron dad #spider son #op lurafita

[jamesonward]

The hotel room smelled just like the barn, if not worse, because public school kids were used to the stench of their own filth and apparently were too poor for accommodations with open windows or air con. Jamie could relate, even if he didn’t really want to. A flock of students that he didn’t recognize seemed to leer at him when he entered, their beady eyes flicking towards his knuckles to search for something that he could only assume was booze. Someone clapped him on the back and welcomed him by a name he’d never heard before, to which Jamie returned with a judgy stare and a rough elbow to the ribs.

“C’mon, man,” the kid hollered, seemingly unphased by Jamie’s hostility as if it were something expected of him and thrust a red solo cup into his hands. Jamie looked hunted, bewildered that none of his usual tactics were working in warding off unwanted attention. If anything, they appeared to endear him more to the party and before he knew it, he was getting roped into some stupid party game that became two party games, beer pong and a testy game of poker that Jamie was suspiciously good at.

The party with the Wisconsin kids became the closest thing to home he’d had the opportunity to be part of since he started high school with no air of pretense or the sticky tendrils of expectation. For the most part, Wisconsin appeared to have accepted him as one of their own, even going so far as to make a few off-beat comments about how sharp he looked without any bruises on his face and congratulations on not having gutted anyone with the bottle opener yet. (Jamie thought that was weird, but decided not to ask because something told him that he didn’t really want to know what kinds of things public schools let their kids do in Small Town Wisconsin.)

The night carried on and on and on, and while Jamie caught a glimpse of people he knew through the sea of bodies, his persistent need to investigate simmered down to a mild curiosity as long as he was ensnared in a winning around of cards. He saw Gwen and her dumb boyfriend go into the bathroom at different times, Emma with the manic cat kid, Hugo and Gwen’s cousin, Raquel and Goth Barbie. Then, Damian and Kat which he thought was mighty convenient after uncovering what he had, but a hearty pat on the shoulder by a kid with soft eyes and broad shoulders kept him anchored in place.

As the night wound down, Jamie’s pack of buddies dispersed among the room in a drunken attempt to find people they’d lost to Pitbull remixes and their things. Jamie hadn’t come with much else but his clothes and an overwhelming sense of dread that he had no intention of retrieving after a busty brunette spilt it all down his pant leg. He was feeling pretty high on the party, something that he never thought was possible, so when he saw a pack of guys on the Wisconsin football team crowd around a particular blonde, Jamie only felt a morsel of trepidation about approaching them. He looked to the one ginger who had been flanking his side during poker and tipped his chin at him in bro-like acknowledgment, even if they weren’t really bros. Or friends. Or anything other than two dudes with two blondes to take back somewhere safe.

“I’ve got this one. We’re heading back to the same place,” he said, glancing at Kat. Jamie hesitated when he was met with blank stares all around, slowly deciding to drape an arm around her shoulders. “We’re related,” he added. Then, after another skeptical look, Jamie raised his eyebrows. “Ever read Flowers In The Attic?”

Nothing.

“You know how Cersei Lannister and her brother...”

As soon as the reference hit them, the boys dispersed, half disgusted and half still confused as to what Jamie was talking about. Either way, it didn’t look like anyone was hankering for a fight and after the last party ended with him face-down in a ravine, Jamie considered being strange better than being dead.

Jamie looked at Kat, assessing her for missing parts and signs of distress. He couldn’t be sure after seeing her with Damian. “Do you have everything?” 

@ofkatherinebishop

#kat

[ezzydean]

SeiHaru - Silver

This is the beginning of something I already know is going to be far too long and have far too many feels.  But that’s what makes slow burns so much fun.

There was something Seijuurou liked to think of called the Nanase Effect.  In the end, no matter how stubborn, how frustrating, how exceptionally irritating Nanase was to a person, said person still inevitably wound up liking his company.  Some even wound up seeking it out.  It was like every instinct you had that told you to just go far, far away from such an infuriating creature was overridden by him somehow.  It was ridiculous and confusing and he had thought that Rin was exaggerating when they had been talking last year after Seijuurou had moved to university and Rin had been complaining about the weirdness that was Nanase Haruka.  

Rin hadn’t really been exaggerating at all.  Seijuurou just hadn’t experienced the full Nanase Effect yet.

He remembered walking into the first day of his second year of classes and spotting Nanase talking to his coach and wondering just what was so special about him.  Sure he could swim like a fish and loved water just as much as one.  But really.  He never seemed to have much of a personality that Seijuurou could notice.  He wasn’t particularly polite or overly nice.  He seemed rather, well, ordinary that first day Seijuurou had seen him again.  Ordinary and nothing particularly special.  Seijuurou had seen a lot of swimmers over the last couple years and had seen his fair share of extremely impressive swimmers at that.

Once he started seeing him on an almost daily basis Seijuurou quickly learned that Nanase was an odd duck.

He was at university on a swimming scholarship, much like Seijuurou’s own, and he took swimming seriously.  Like Seijuurou was concerned for his well-being sometimes seriously.  Within a week Seijuurou felt like he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find gills on Nanase’s neck or back.  And the guy always seemed to come to practice already wearing his suits.  Suits that Seijuurou knew he had a ton of.  They were the same brand and cut and almost all the same colors but slightly varying patterns and honestly Seijuurou felt a little concerned that he was starting to count all of Nanase’s different jammers.

So he was a good swimmer with a few quirks.  (The Effect was starting to kick in.)  Seijuurou had seen more impressive swimmers, not many but they were out there, and more bizarre quirks.  Granted Nanase’s passion for water was right up there at the top of that particular list.  But still.

Even odder to Seijuurou than whatever love affair Nanase had going on with swimming and water was the fact that he was in a large number of business courses.  Most athletes he knew weren’t actually too much into the actual education part of further education, himself excluded.  Most planned to either ride the athletic wave as long as they could and either go professional or just jump into the work force.  But Nanase was taking business courses.  And a lot of them.  He took as many courses as the university allowed him to.  Even Seijuurou in his second year didn’t take nearly as many classes as Nanase.  He was seriously a little concerned for the guy.  (Nanase Effect stage two.)

Then there was the fact that any moment that he wasn’t in class, at practice, or sleeping Nanase could be found in The Junkyard.  It was an old factory that had been converted into a kind of art studio slash place for the university kids to hangout.  Honestly Seijuurou didn’t have the slightest clue how Nanase managed to get any studying done.  Or how he managed to do things like eat.  For as much as the guy liked to show up with plates of cookies and treats and bowls of food he rarely seemed to actually eat any of it.  (Stage three was well underway.)  Seijuurou wasn’t sure if it was just that someone else was making it for him and he just didn’t really like it or if he was one of those people who made food when stressed.  Or if he just liked making food and wanted to share it with people.

Logically he knew that any questions he had about Nanase could probably be answered by simply calling Rin.  Or maybe even talking to Momo since he was such good friends with whatever Iwatobi kids were left.  But this was Nanase.  And logic clearly had little to no place where he was concerned.  Which is why instead of just going about his life and leaving Nanase in peace Seijuurou was making up two cups of tea and settling himself at the table Nanase was sitting at.

Nanase’s dark blue eyes flickered up to Seijuurou.  (The Nanase Effect had run it’s course and he was captured.  Ensnared and entangled in the whirlwind that was Nanase’s life.)

“Mikoshiba,” he said.  It wasn’t all that polite.  But it wasn’t rude either.  His voice was neutral.  Like nearly everything else about him seemed to be.

“Nanase,” Seijuurou replied cheerfully.  “How’s university life treating you?”  He slid one cup of tea over to Nanase with a smile.  Nanase contemplated the cup and Seijuurou with equal distrust.  He would be hurt if he wasn’t fairly certain that was how Nanase regarded anything and anyone different than what he was used to.

“No better or worse than high school I suppose,” he eventually answered.  Then he picked up the cup of tea and took a careful sip.  It had apparently been the right choice because he gave a nod of thanks and continued sipping at it.

Seijuurou would like to have said it was the start of an easy, beautiful friendship.  But Nanase was a prickly bastard at times and Seijuurou was too meddlesome for his own good at times and their friendship was anything but easy.

#free! #SeiHaru #mikoshiba seijuurou #nanase haruka #SeiHaru fic #prompt #free! writing #when there's silver in your hair #cattatonically

[theunaccomplishedwriter]

Breaking the Surface - Chapter 1: Cold Awakening

Hello there! Apologies I've been absent for quite a while with my writings but I've had a severe case of life happening. That and writer's block. I've been reading a lot of other people's fics though and this is something I've been thinking about writing for a while. Just glad I've finally got something published after so long! I'll try and keep this updated regularly since life has given me a break for the moment. Please leaves comments and tell me what you think! Any feedback will help me make this work the best that it possibly can be! So, without further ado, enjoy!

"Lance!" Becky yelled, causing Lance to groan and pull the covers over his head as if they could protect him from his already irate girlfriend, something which was becoming a default mode for her, even at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning.

"Lance!" Becky called again. "Lance if you don't get up right now I will come up there and kick you out myself! You know I will!"

With the memories and bruises still fresh from Becky's last gentle attempts to get him out of bed, Lance reluctantly tossed the covers off and groggily got out of bed. Lance still wasn't sure why he had to get up at the same hour that Becky did, it wasn't as if he had anywhere in particular he had to go anyway.

Grabbing a towel and heading towards the shower, he pushed the bedroom door open and mechanically headed towards the bathroom, his brain going on autopilot so he didn't see or hear the despairing look and exasperated sigh Becky tossed at him as his dishevelled frame trudged passed her.

Twiddling with the shower knobs and tentatively placing his paw under the water, Lance stepped into the small cubicle, allowing the water to flow over him as he stood there passively. While Lance knew, and had been reminded by Becky several times that he constantly looked as though he had been dragged through a hedge backwards, Lance did try to make himself somewhat clean and presentable. But, with things going the way they were, there didn't really seem to be too much point in worrying about his general hygiene too much.

Without paying too much attention, Lance went through the motions of lathering his fur with shampoo, rinsing it off and spending an inordinate amount of time drying his fur and spines. He really needed to get fur dryer but he accidentally busted Becky's the other week and Becky wasn't about to lend him his new one, so he'd been stuck with a towel dry for a while now, which was hellish and all but impossible to get his spines done.

Eventually giving up, shaking the excess water off his quills and allowing them to drip dry again, Lance wrapped his towel around himself and chucked his dirty clothes in the washing basket, not wanting another argument about the whole cleanliness thing this early again.

Heading back into the bedroom, with Becky too preoccupied with getting ready for work to give him anymore disparaging looks, Lance rummaged through one of his boxes for some clothes. He didn't blame Ash for dumping his stuff in those boxes and shoving on the street. Well, at the time Lance remembered a lot of colourful words being shouted at the impassive front door but he'd been freaking pissed then.

"She's overreacting." Lance had thought. "It's not like I was going to do anything. She was just jealous. So some other girl likes me. What a fucking surprise! Had she not met me? I'm me! I'm the fucking bomb! Who wouldn't be interested in me! Hell, if I weren't me I'd been interested in me! She just can't handle the fact that she may have some competition. That's it. Just can't hack someone friendly competition. She'll be crawling back soon. This was all temporary. Just a bump in the road. It's not like I'm gonna do anything with Becky. I mean, she's nice and all but, I mean come on! I'm not that fucking shallow! This was all just temporary. Just temporary…"

But she didn't come back. The door remained firmly shut and no matter how loud Lance would shout, no matter how often he texts or called, Ash remained as silent as the grave. Day after day he'd turn up and the same silence was his only reward for all his loud efforts.

He'd been rooming with Becky since he was kicked out. Sleeping on the sofa, obviously. He wasn't in to her. She was nice and liked to play at being a musician, but that's all she was, just someone to play along with. Nothing serious. Nothing permanent. Then he saw the concert.

Becky left but, disparaging her efforts but, as soon as she was out the room, Lance scrambled to the remote to watch her play again. She was… amazing. Her voice. Her guitar skills. Her power. That's what it was. Her sheer, unbridled, unadulterated power. She had those mammals on their feet cheering. Cheering for her. Just her. He watched, jaw slightly dropped until he turned the TV off, walked over to the kitchen, and pulled a bottle of Glenfiddich.

"How can she do this to me?" Lance had thought, chugging down another mouthful of whiskey from the bottle, the bottle nearly empty and an hour being lost to his internal venom. "She fucking needs me! I made her! What's she without me? A two-bit guitar player and I fucking showed her how to play! Could barely strum a G chord when I met her and now she's thinks she's Jimi fucking Hendrix or something! Those people they… they don't know talent if it appeared in front of them with a massive neon sign and a firework display spelling it out with a choreographed display happening round it. Fuck them all! Fuck her! Set free? SET FUCKING FREE! Set free from what?! She wasn't trapped! She didn't fucking escape anything! All I did was tell her a few truths! I'm not the bad guy here! She's the conniving bitch here! I'm the good guy!"

Downing the rest of the whiskey, Lance slowly got up from the sofa, his legs nearly buckling from the sudden movement. Looking to the bedroom where Becky had not re-emerged from, Lance stared at the door for what seemed to be an eternity, his mind contemplating his next move as the alcohol sloshed the rational thoughts out of the way, as he moved towards the door and was thoughts and warnings were consumed by the oblivion of the blackout.

Waking up, he didn't remember what had happened, but he could feel the shame and regret hit him like a freight train. Looking over, he saw Becky asleep, her mouth forming a little smile as she lay next to her guilt-ridden partner. He placed his head back on the pillow, staring up at the bland white ceiling. There was no going back. He didn't mean it, but he couldn't undo it now. He'd become the very thing that Ash had sung about. Someone to escape from. To be set free. And now he'd ensnared another in his web. Whether it was the bottle of whiskey or his feelings, he had to run to the bathroom to get all the bile out of him, knowing whatever he brought out of himself, it would be a mere fraction of what lay within him.

The first few days were so beautiful for Becky. She kissed him so loving every morning, played with him at gigs, made dinners just to show how much she cared. She wasn't the best at any of those things, but she tried. Goddamn she tried. He remembered her saying how perfect everything would be. How their life would be glorious and beautiful, not matter what anyone else said. Their relationship was all that mattered and they would have a life and home that matched. She was so hopeful, so caring, so… fucking naïve.

So here he was. Six months down the line on a dreary September day, still living out of the boxes that his ex had thrown out of their old flat while he lived a half-existence with a girl he never loved and turned her love of him into a deformed and decaying thing, it's colour faded from its early bright hues to a near blackened husk of its former self.

Throwing on his usual get-up, Lance wiped away the last vestiges of sleep and cleared his mind of the bitter thoughts and headed out to get some much-needed breakfast. Schlepping over to the kitchenette, Lance quickly made himself some cereal and planted himself on the sofa, mindlessly skimming through the TV channels.

"Urgh, seriously Lance? Can you not do that at the table?" Becky said, still doing her last touch up of mascara with her pocket mirror.

"'Ow elsh am I gonna watsh the TV?" Lance responded slovenly, every word having to negotiate its way round the cereal in his mouth.

"Ew, that's so disgusting!" Becky grimaced, before turning to check herself in her pocket mirror one last time for any defects in her appearance before snapping the mirror shut, satisfied with her work.

"Sorry." Lance replied, swallowing the food and casting his eyes away from Becky.

"Got any more gigs lined up then?" Becky asked, her tone implying it was more to fill the dead air than out of genuine interest.

"No… nothing yet." Lance eventually muttered in response.

It hadn't been hard to get gigs initially. Becky and he got gigs quite regularly, even becoming the favourites at some bars. For two whole months it had been going fine. Even after Ash's rise to fame their bookings didn't dwindle. They all knew she'd been with Lance but just assumed they'd decided to split and both had gone in different directions. At least, that's what Lancer had been saying. He needed the gigs and, so long as they drew in paying customers, the owners were happy to give them time to play.

But then the article happened.

He'd been woken up by the phone ringing, with a very cold sounding manager telling him not to darken his door again. Three more similar calls later and very little explanations as to why all his gigs were being scratched off led him to search the internet. Maybe someone had written a bad review or something. It wouldn't have been the first but definitely the first that cost him gigs like this.

He didn't need to look far.

It was everywhere. An article with Ash promoting her new album and giving the story behind her hit single. A reveal all story. A reveal all story that included him. A reveal all story that included him that did not put him the best light. Or any light for that matter. It was a character assassination except the assassin in question had not only put a bullet in his head, but rather had dropped an atomic bomb over him. There was not a shred of light of him left, just the pit of blackness that was Lance, the ex-boyfriend who belittled an up and coming star's dreams before galivanting off with some seductress of equal ill repute.

It can't be that bad, right? Lance thought. I mean, who hasn't had a bad breakup? I'm sure this'll all blow over soon. Something else will come up and overshadow this. No problem, I just have to wait this out. That's all.

Waiting it out took a bit longer than expected. Booked gigs vanished, door slammed in his face, glares and outright abuse became the norm from animals he's never even met before as well as those he'd known for years.

It was when he was out with Becky on their way to one of the few bars that hadn't slammed its door in their faces that a boar strode straight across the road and stood in front of them, his eyes blind with rage, looking not at Lance, but directly at Becky, into her eyes, as if he was trying to look directly into her soul.

"You are a fucking whore." And then he spat directly into Becky's face and abruptly marched away.

With the boar stalking off, Becky wiped off the saliva off her face, flicked it to the ground, wiped her paws on her dress, grabbed Lance off and led him to the gig, his face still uncomprehending and unmoving. They played the gig, got paid, and went home. It had been their best gig yet. Becky, while not the best singer in the world, somehow broke through whatever barrier that held her back and let her voice soar. Even the mostly hostile crowd softly applauded her efforts. And all the while, through every song, every chord, every note, Becky smiled. A smile so simple, so innocent, so good.

Lance had never heard anyone cry so hard. She curled up on the bed, bawling her eyes out. Those choking, guttural cries were almost primordial. It was if the boar had split her in two, bearing her innermost self, open to the world to judge while she, flayed, could do nothing.

Through all of it Becky had been supportive. She told him not to take notice, held his hand, encouraged him to go out with her to do gigs, even going out of her way to book them for him when he was too depressed or drunk to do it himself. She'd been his support, a lifeline, a compass in this hostile and seemingly unnavigable sea of bile, trying to get him to the shore where her almost saccharine promises lay of everything just being fine. And now she was letting everything seep out and stain the sheets below her, as if everything that kept her up had snapped.

All Lance could do was feebly hold her. He didn't say anything. What could he say? That it would be okay? Even if he didn't truly love her, he couldn't lie to her like that. Couldn't promise those sweet dreams she promised him. It wasn't his way. All he could do was hold her so she wouldn't be alone.

She got a job in real estate two week later. It was good for her, she had always been a kind and chatty person so it suited her. She met other animals, animals who weren't interested in the music scene. Normal animals. Animals into gossip, fashion, TV shows, all that jazz. Good animals. It was just what Becky needed and Lance wasn't going to stop her. She needed something good in her life. Something normal. Something pleasant. Something that wasn't Lance.

It wasn't long later that the seams of their relationship finally started to fray. It was inevitable really, Lance could see it as soon as the headlines were plastered all over the online forums. But neither compelled themselves to end it. Instead, they existed next to each other. They lived their separate lives, said the occasional nice word, though those turned mean-spirited sooner than either had anticipated or wanted.

Becky reached for handbag and, with a last flick of her hair, began making her way to the door. Lance had to admit, for all the bitchiness that had surfaced from within her, she still looked wonderful. Maybe it was because Lance was looking up at her from the sofa, Becky gave out a sigh, and turned towards him.

"Lance" she began tentatively "I think it's time to face facts. You need to get a job."

Lance looked down at his cereal bowl glumly, avoiding her gaze. He knew this conversation had been coming, perched in the backgrounds of both their minds for a while like an unwanted guest. He didn't want to face it, but he knew he would have to silence its incessant cawing at some point, and it seemed the time had come.

"I… I know, but it's hard Becky."

"Have you been looking?" Becky replied with a bit of sharp directness in her tone.

"Well, you know" Lance said, rubbing his paw against the back of his head "I'm not exactly the most qualified person in the world…"

It wasn't a lie per se, Lance had good qualifications behind him, but they were just from secondary school and thinking back to the days when he tried to get a job to help him while getting into the punk scene, many saw his GCSE's of all A's as being someone who wouldn't exactly be there in a year's time, so they all turned him down.

But Becky wasn't buying it.

"Come on Lance, I know you're not stupid and you're not a teenager anymore. You've got some brains in there somewhere, so get using them and get a job! Anything Lance! Shop Assistant, Waiter, Janitor, bloody well anything!"

"You think it's that easy!" Lance returned hotly. "You think I can just turn up somewhere and go 'Hi, I'm Lance, that guy who broke what seems like the world's favourite singer's heart? Can I start Monday?' I'd be lucky to get out of there with all my quills on my back!"

Lance was stood up now and seeing red now, the bottled-up rage built up within him threatening to explode. "Half the world crosses the street to avoid me and the other half to shout abuse or worse! What chance do I have Becky? What fucking chance…" The anger left him, his legs giving way as he slumped back down on the settee.

"Hate to break it sweetheart" Lance continued dejectedly "but no-one's hiring a cheating scumbag, and especially ones whose only accomplishment in his field of choice was managing to strum the guitar without setting it on fire."

Huffing slightly and looking at her watch as if it was worth her time responding to Lance's mini-tirade or whether she should get going to avoid being late. Looking up, Lance saw the determination in her eyes. She wasn't finished.

"Look Lance, I don't want to deal with your self-pitying shit right now. I've got to go to work and it's getting old now. I got shit too, remember? A life that doesn't revolve around the pity show that is Lance Morgan." Lance winced. She only used her last name when she was making a point.

"Rent's not cheap you know" Becky continued, her voice rising in anger "and it's about time you started paying me back. Do you know how much time I've missed going out with friends? Buying things just 'cos I want them? Going to the pictures? Having fun?! It feels like an eternity and I've got a schmuck of a boyfriend who won't try anymore because of a few bad words!"

Becky's paws were trembling with anger and Lance's could barely keep eye contact with her, the shame tasting like bile in his throat.

"Do you realise how I feel? Being with someone I have to mother just to get him to do basic stuff? Jesus Lance, I'm younger than you! I don't need to be doing this shit! I know the world's been unkind to you but whoop-dee-fucking-do! I've not had an easy ride either you know? I've had the abuse, the comments, the looks, but look at me! I've got a job, I've got friends, I've got a life! You, you're just… a fucking embarrassment…"

Becky marched over to the front door, swinging open forcefully and stared out into the empty corridor. She seemed to stand there for an age before, she slowly shook her head. Not looking back to see Lance's face, Becky said quietly, anger still on the edge of her voice. "I don't care what it is you do Lance, just do something. Anything. You can't coup yourself up in here forever. I won't allow it. If you don't, then I'll…" Leaving the sentence unfinished, Becky left, slowly letting the door click shut behind her, leaving Lance with a pained look and cereals starting to go soggy.

#sing 2016 #sing #lance #becky #fanfic #new story #hope you like it #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #ao3 #archive of our own #breaking the surface #chapter 1

[just-a-re-blog]

Auld Acquaintance

So this is a little New Year’s thing I did back before the yearlong state of crisis that was 2016 happened, and I guess it’s still somewhat cute, maybe. Also, this was something I did before I was really comfortable writing, so fair warning--it’s kinda really bad.

~HMR

The music rages around you, pounding in time with the pulsating headache developing in the back of your skull. Bodies smash together against yours and their sweat rains from every direction as they jump around like tomorrow won’t come.

You squeeze through the crowd, trying desperately to see through the mass of people in the dim red and green lights. Your breathing becomes faster and shallower as the mob closes in around you. You’re shoving now, fighting for a decent patch of air that doesn’t smell like hormones and twenty-something spirit.

Finally, you burst across the threshold of the sliding glass door and into the chilly night. The cold air burns your lungs, but you don’t mind, grateful for the fact that it actually smells like nature now. There are couples draped over each other by the side of the pool and littered across the back lawn in between plots of beer bottle gardens.

With no wish to watch drunken urges overcome lovers, you start around to the side of the enormous house, fairly certain you will finally find a moment to yourself there. The trek through the yard takes a solid minute. You use the time to scold yourself for even showing up at the stupid party.

You had been ecstatic to attend your first real New Year’s Eve party. After years of heading back home for the holidays, the weather gods had finally put their collective foot down and snowed you in for the season. With the option to stay in and toast cider at midnight in between your parents forcibly removed, you had decided to take advantage of your connections at school. When you had gotten the invitation to attend this party, you saw it as your opportunity to finally take one of your last steps towards becoming a real adult.

But right now everyone is drunk. They are half-dressed and making out, and you feel completely out of your element.

In fact, why in the world are you going to isolate yourself on the side of the house? You might as well just go home.

Determined to leave the night’s failures behind, you put more energy into your steps. You round the corner, ready to make your way home by the light of the moon, when a figure leaning against the side of the house startles you. You inhale sharply at the sudden presence. The dark shape turns toward you, jumping at the noise of your gasp.

The voice that speaks is hardly louder than a whisper, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You are still wary of the outline before you, but you have to get by the kid one way or another. Plus, they seemed just as frightened by your sudden appearance as you were by theirs. You venture a guess and dare to say that probably means he or she isn’t waiting here to victimize girls. You inch forward.

“No, you’re fine,” you respond. “I didn’t mean to scare you either. I just…wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out here.”

“Same. Are you cold?” the voice asks, and now you can tell it definitely belongs to a boy. “You can feel the heat from inside the house if you stand against this wall.” Tentatively, you walk towards him and put your back and palms against the siding. You shiver at the initial chill of the building, but after a few seconds, warmth does start to soak through your clothes. The boy beside you reaches out a hand. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Hi, Yoongi. It’s nice to meet you. I’m June.”

“June? That’s a nice name.”

You laugh. “Well thanks.”

“So, June, what are you doing out here in the cold on New Year’s Eve?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you could,” he muses, “but I asked you first.”

“This…” you say, gesturing to the house behind you and the yard to your left, “It’s just really not my scene. Everybody smells like alcohol.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

He smiles at you and his teeth glint faintly in the white light streaming from millions of miles away. Eyes finally fully adjusted to the heavy darkness, you can make out Yoongi’s round cherub face. He looks young, but his low gravelly voice challenges your first perception of his age. He stands the exact same height as you. Wavy brown hair falls across his forehead in loose coils. Surprisingly, you don’t catch the scent of liquor off his breath.

“Is that why you’re here, too? You don’t want to deal with all the intoxicated youths in there?”

“It was a little hard to breathe,” he chuckles in agreement. “But I just wanted to see the moon.” He looks at the sky, an unreadable expression in his features. “You know, we make resolutions and we gather in big mansions like this one and we insist on celebrating this huge holiday. But we’re the only ones who recognize the significance of January 1st. Nature does nothing to mark it. There’s no eclipse or change in the season. It’s just us—humans celebrating the abstract passage of time we created to measure our own lives. I like to look at the moon on New Year’s Eve because even when we say things will be different, there’s things like that big rock in the sky that we have absolutely no control over. It’s not going to change when the last digit of the year shifts forward one.”

“Wow…what made you think of all that?”

He meets your eyes again, smiling. “I’m not high, I swear.”

You smirk at Yoongi’s reassurance. “I believe you.”

“I don’t know, it’s just something I learned to appreciate when I was younger. I moved around a lot. I like consistency.”

And just like that, you are asking more—asking about where he lived, asking about his parents, asking how he ended up here.

And he is grinning as he answers each question—Thailand, America, the Philippines; they’re documentarians; he always wanted to study literature at a university.

He comes alive as you dig deeper. Yoongi is some nocturnal creature, a flower that only blooms at night for worthy eyes. No one else seems to have ventured this far into the forest that is him in a long time. The cobwebs of his thoughtful observations are fragile, covered in dust and dew in untouched hollows of his being. His eyes, bathed in soft moonlight, hold a thousand mysteries that you could take a million New Year’s Eves to sort through. It seems like the only way to untangle everything he is requires you to ensnare yourself deeper in him. And on this cloudless night, to the soundtrack of an unstoppable bass rattling your bones through the walls, you welcome the challenge.

A short infinity later, there is a muffled shout that floats through the sliding glass door and around the corner to no one in particular.

“Guys, one minute until midnight!”

Yoongi grins at you. “Sorry,” he laughs. “Didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”

“No, I loved it,” you blurt. “I mean, you…you’re a really fascinating person to listen to, Yoongi.”

“Thanks, June.” You are quiet for a moment, trying to decide if you are brave enough to ask the hardest question of the night.

Yoongi does it for you.

“So…what are your feelings on the whole…kiss at midnight thing?” It’s nearly impossible to tell in the darkness of the hour, but you are almost positive his cheeks flame as he speaks.

“It’s not too fleetingly human for you?” you tease.

He laughs again, and the sound is so warm that you don’t feel a difference in the temperature as he grabs your hand and pulls you from your spot on the wall.

“Thirty seconds!”

His fingers fill the spaces between yours and he gently places his other hand on the small of your back.

“Is this okay?” he whispers.

Your pulse speeds a little. As puffs of your warm breath fan across Yoongi’s face, you thank the heavens that the last thing you had in your mouth was a stick of mint gum.

“Yes,” you murmur back.

“Ten seconds! Ten!”

“Yoongi?”

“Nine!”

“Yes?”

“Eight!”

“Thank you for tonight.”

“Seven!”

“I should be thanking you.”

“Six!”

“Why?”

“Five!”

“Because now I’ve got some hope—”

“Four!”

“That for once—”

“Three!”

“I’ll have something to look forward to in the new year.”

“Two!”

“Happy New Year, Yoongi.”

“One!”

“Happy New Year, June.”

And by some sleight of holiday magic, something in your chest is unlocked by his lips, and every fiber of your being becomes brand new as you stand kissing Yoongi in the beams of the completely unchanged moon.

#bts #bts scenarios #suga #min yoongi #new years eve #fluffy fluffy fluff #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #suga fluff

[honeycvntcake]

What You Should Become aware of Texting along with Dating

Within the past few years obviously almost every partnership dilemma I actually hear from my coaching buyers and former mate girlfriends has linked with texting. Texting and online dating services definitely it does not just for 2 decade olds any further. These girls are all connection after 40… some inside their 60s plus 70s.

“Sue” connected with the male on Tinder, they had some emails, after which he started sending text messages. He given her photographs of the soccer game these people attended. They told her about his crappy day at function. She commanded him about her automobile trouble and responded ‘ why did not you ask us to come support? ‘

Chances are they had a new coffee moment. It was well. The particular texting proceeded. They “talked” on and off for hours on end. He complimented her to generate her possess a good laugh. He distributed to her how filled he was and also she inquired about flattered which he was looking to keep in touch.

The following week often the texts tapered, and then this individual stopped response. She requirements me “I thought having been so into me. Exactly what should I accomplish??? ”

“Lila’s” guy informed her all these remarkable things and also poured the actual heart out via texts for two days. But they never applied through having an actual in person date. The lady wants to really know what that means.

“Melissa” stayed until eventually 3 EARLY IN THE DAY texting completely ready dude. That were there one date three weeks prior, and as it’s only been texting. But it is very romantic! She has falling to find him. In excess of wants to know how to stop disquieting over your pet being The primary.

There are noticeable signs if he IS directly into you… CLICK THIS KIND OF and find out exactly how!

Texting boasts certainly difficult dating in addition to relationships. No later than this give you a number of straight information about what text messages really indicates and will never mean. In addition to, most importantly, tips about how to take control of your circumstances – like a grownup!

The only thing you should suppose when you’re looking for a bunch of created word is that the young lady is having exciting flirting along. He’s feeling entertained and also he’s increasing your responsiveness.

1 . Texting is NOT online dating. Never assume that obtaining a bunch of published word from a guy means you will be having a relationship. You’re not quite possibly dating. When a person is selecting to only textual content or primarily text, he has not showing signs of wishing to get to know you really in a important way.

The sole thing you should expect when you’re getting a bunch of messaging text is that ukraine woman the young lady is having entertaining flirting along. He’s encountering entertained as well as he’s enjoying your responsiveness.

Sure, they wouldn’t end up being spending when ever if they wasn’t serious about you, when he’s just texting, they will doesn’t think about you for the potential wife or husband. Expecting the dog to move on something far more serious isn’t normal. In fact , this specific usually means only the opposite. These guys cool.

Why that they can disappear just isn’t going to matter. Whether it is because they located someone else, were just participating in or since they got scared — that is 100% minimal. You know what you must understand: he isn’t a good, older man really worth your time.

There are lots of ways to acknowledge if a man is a serious guy who is thinking about getting to know somebody. He methods up by just calling and also settings in place dates. He or she tries to positive aspects you and your life. He / she makes an attempt to spend time with you. Many people does almost no things to try to make you information.

If you are for example Sue, Violeta or Melissa, here is what you should know: Continuous text messages, when with no in-person visit, creates a false sense associated with connection. A person sense like you get to know another, but that’s not what’s happening.

Just about any text ‘ relationship’ is in fact like being a player within a game. From the type of false connection which often sets up extremely unrealistic presumptions and targets. I’ve discovered countless young ladies create detailed fantasies and obtain drawn in — often before they probably meet adult males.

And the enemy happens also. With no tonality in communications, texting to and fro creates great opportunities to misread and believe wrongly intent. I am unable to tell you the amount of emails We’ve received by way of coaching purchasers with a written text conversation pasted in together with question: Issues you think they will means (aka WTF)????

(Honestly, half time frame I need ideas what a guy means dependant on twelve keywords on a show. And even easily think I know, I’m loathe to think. I suggest in excess of asks your furry friend to call her.

Be aware, keep your thoughts in check and as well stay in fact. You don’t understand him. To have reading in this post to learn techniques for finding the websida to move to the phone and also an real-time date.

(Want to learn more about how you can know whenever a man is absolutely interested? You can view my available webcast How one can Know If He’s In to You. )

2 . A few men make full use of texting to aid string anyone along… time period. If you are acquiring texts combined with calls as well as dates, subsequently excellent! She has interested in observing you in addition to sure looking for a collaboration.

But if there is absolutely no actual real-time contact — beware!

Probably you are aware the guy who texts once in a while like a kind of sign-up. He notifys you how much this individual likes you really and even works super contemplating your life. She / he flirts. They says the way busy one is and how he / she previously really love to determine you rapidly. And it finishes there.

This guy are what I call up a “pinger. ”

Pingers want a good ego enhance. They prepared text you in conjunction with, when you respond positively, have high of while using knowledge that you’re keep a geared up option when (and if) he desires to actually day you.

As well as just a few minutes along with a few properly chosen keystrokes, a good pinger can keep a person interested for ages, even years… without a great deal as one distinct date. (This happens with phone calls too. )

If you are linked to a pinger, girlfriend, you have to end which will so-called romantic relationship right now. You can more about pingers and learn what you can do with them by means of reading this publish: Why Does She or he Keep Evaporating and Reappearing?

3. Sending text messages as a way connected with dating is mostly for males, not adult men. If you have no met your canine friend yet as well as he’s sending texts to see if it is possible to obtain together upon short diagnose, don’t be flattered. He’s both equally impulsive in addition to, more likely, trying you being back-up woman when his or her other packages fell by means of.

If you like often the pup and are able to give the dog a chance, in this case respond getting a positive ‘ thank you nevertheless no thanks a lot. ” It is advisable to say this kind of thing:

“It is going to be great to enjoy you, Greg, but We have plans this evening. Love to gathering with a extra notice while. Enjoy your special evening. ”

Put it out there and see how are you affected. A grownup dude who absolutely wants to recognize you will get often the message and acquire you at a distance ahead of time. A new farmer or purchaser guy will text any individual again in a few weeks attempting to see you in the evening. Take it so it is – he’s most likely not serious about online dating and your puppy is going down their list, in hopes you chew. Don’t reply.

4. Text messaging does have an optimistic place in internet dating. Texting can be a superb complement for you to real dating. For instance, may great way so as to clarify plans or develop last minute improvements to the program.

A man do people want a healthy, more mature connection can easily make every power to show you will he’s curious and to quite simply see you instantly. Why? Mainly because that’s the best way men determine whether they as you. It’s all about how she or he FEELS while he’s to your account, and he is aware of it. Whenever he’s looking for something more than one fun nighttime, a good guy will do exactly what he can to impress you by way of asking you offered, and then use your event.

Texting is usually good for a simple “had a great time” or maybe “sleep well” note after having a nice moment. Or a “looking forward to slurping spaghetti in addition to you Friday. ” Let him know if you are thinking of him / her and valuation him. Make it14972 simple, as well as leave it generally there. If you don’t grab back, proceed.

Here’s what to perform next to ensure you don’t get ensnared on the inappropriate guy again… You can find clear impulses when he IS CERTAINLY into any person… CLICK THIS and see how!

several. If she has a grownup fantastic guy, you are able to kindly purchase him along texting. I will see why perhaps good, reliable, single people love texting. If they sees your overall picture along with profile together with wants to meet up with you, the particular hunter along with him would want to get up on the result: discussion you. This is especially valid of some women I understand. They think chatting 1st just interrupts the routine and will need to skip the unit and/or email.

But No later than this say that again, executing a bunch of texting first can make an naive sense relating to connection. Like a little more, being a phone call at first, it’s your final choice to get over texting treadmill and ask for what you want. So when he is focused on9491 meeting a female for a authentic relationship, he will probably step up.

How would you do that? Just simply say this type of thing if this individual seems to be swept up on sending texts:

“It may be great to listen the modulation of voice connected to all these great written word and email. I’d love a telephone call when you’ve got period. Hope that works for you! 555-1212. ”

OR PERHAPS

“Thanks to get in touch. Allow me to get to know anyone but I find sending text messages isn’t an ideal way. But receiving up with you actually over coffee beans might be; ). ”

So… the bottom line in texting in addition to dating are these claims: use txt messaging sparingly, effectively and, above all, don’t study too much by it. Remember, true and genuine love come about in person, grin to laugh, touch to the touch. Not around the phone or if your computer.

I may LOVE to pick up your sending text messages stories in addition to answer this question about how to really make it work for you though dating or maybe in your marriage. Leave us your responses below.

هذه المقاله مقتبسة من موقع سي في ورلد https://ift.tt/3i57VJm

#cv-world #cv

[awesomecvworldblog]

What You Should Become aware of Texting along with Dating

What You Should Become aware of Texting along with Dating

Within the past few years obviously almost every partnership dilemma I actually hear from my coaching buyers and former mate girlfriends has linked with texting. Texting and online dating services definitely it does not just for 2 decade olds any further. These girls are all connection after 40… some inside their 60s plus 70s.

“Sue” connected with the male on Tinder, they had some emails, after which he started sending text messages. He given her photographs of the soccer game these people attended. They told her about his crappy day at function. She commanded him about her automobile trouble and responded ‘ why did not you ask us to come support? ‘

Chances are they had a new coffee moment. It was well. The particular texting proceeded. They “talked” on and off for hours on end. He complimented her to generate her possess a good laugh. He distributed to her how filled he was and also she inquired about flattered which he was looking to keep in touch.

The following week often the texts tapered, and then this individual stopped response. She requirements me “I thought having been so into me. Exactly what should I accomplish??? ”

“Lila’s” guy informed her all these remarkable things and also poured the actual heart out via texts for two days. But they never applied through having an actual in person date. The lady wants to really know what that means.

“Melissa” stayed until eventually 3 EARLY IN THE DAY texting completely ready dude. That were there one date three weeks prior, and as it’s only been texting. But it is very romantic! She has falling to find him. In excess of wants to know how to stop disquieting over your pet being The primary.

There are noticeable signs if he IS directly into you… CLICK THIS KIND OF and find out exactly how!

Texting boasts certainly difficult dating in addition to relationships. No later than this give you a number of straight information about what text messages really indicates and will never mean. In addition to, most importantly, tips about how to take control of your circumstances – like a grownup!

The only thing you should suppose when you’re looking for a bunch of created word is that the young lady is having exciting flirting along. He’s feeling entertained and also he’s increasing your responsiveness.

1 . Texting is NOT online dating. Never assume that obtaining a bunch of published word from a guy means you will be having a relationship. You’re not quite possibly dating. When a person is selecting to only textual content or primarily text, he has not showing signs of wishing to get to know you really in a important way.

The sole thing you should expect when you’re getting a bunch of messaging text is that ukraine woman the young lady is having entertaining flirting along. He’s encountering entertained as well as he’s enjoying your responsiveness.

Sure, they wouldn’t end up being spending when ever if they wasn’t serious about you, when he’s just texting, they will doesn’t think about you for the potential wife or husband. Expecting the dog to move on something far more serious isn’t normal. In fact , this specific usually means only the opposite. These guys cool.

Why that they can disappear just isn’t going to matter. Whether it is because they located someone else, were just participating in or since they got scared — that is 100% minimal. You know what you must understand: he isn’t a good, older man really worth your time.

There are lots of ways to acknowledge if a man is a serious guy who is thinking about getting to know somebody. He methods up by just calling and also settings in place dates. He or she tries to positive aspects you and your life. He / she makes an attempt to spend time with you. Many people does almost no things to try to make you information.

If you are for example Sue, Violeta or Melissa, here is what you should know: Continuous text messages, when with no in-person visit, creates a false sense associated with connection. A person sense like you get to know another, but that’s not what’s happening.

Just about any text ‘ relationship’ is in fact like being a player within a game. From the type of false connection which often sets up extremely unrealistic presumptions and targets. I’ve discovered countless young ladies create detailed fantasies and obtain drawn in — often before they probably meet adult males.

And the enemy happens also. With no tonality in communications, texting to and fro creates great opportunities to misread and believe wrongly intent. I am unable to tell you the amount of emails We’ve received by way of coaching purchasers with a written text conversation pasted in together with question: Issues you think they will means (aka WTF)????

(Honestly, half time frame I need ideas what a guy means dependant on twelve keywords on a show. And even easily think I know, I’m loathe to think. I suggest in excess of asks your furry friend to call her.

Be aware, keep your thoughts in check and as well stay in fact. You don’t understand him. To have reading in this post to learn techniques for finding the websida to move to the phone and also an real-time date.

(Want to learn more about how you can know whenever a man is absolutely interested? You can view my available webcast How one can Know If He’s In to You. )

2 . A few men make full use of texting to aid string anyone along… time period. If you are acquiring texts combined with calls as well as dates, subsequently excellent! She has interested in observing you in addition to sure looking for a collaboration.

But if there is absolutely no actual real-time contact — beware!

Probably you are aware the guy who texts once in a while like a kind of sign-up. He notifys you how much this individual likes you really and even works super contemplating your life. She / he flirts. They says the way busy one is and how he / she previously really love to determine you rapidly. And it finishes there.

This guy are what I call up a “pinger. ”

Pingers want a good ego enhance. They prepared text you in conjunction with, when you respond positively, have high of while using knowledge that you’re keep a geared up option when (and if) he desires to actually day you.

As well as just a few minutes along with a few properly chosen keystrokes, a good pinger can keep a person interested for ages, even years… without a great deal as one distinct date. (This happens with phone calls too. )

If you are linked to a pinger, girlfriend, you have to end which will so-called romantic relationship right now. You can more about pingers and learn what you can do with them by means of reading this publish: Why Does She or he Keep Evaporating and Reappearing?

3. Sending text messages as a way connected with dating is mostly for males, not adult men. If you have no met your canine friend yet as well as he’s sending texts to see if it is possible to obtain together upon short diagnose, don’t be flattered. He’s both equally impulsive in addition to, more likely, trying you being back-up woman when his or her other packages fell by means of.

If you like often the pup and are able to give the dog a chance, in this case respond getting a positive ‘ thank you nevertheless no thanks a lot. ” It is advisable to say this kind of thing:

“It is going to be great to enjoy you, Greg, but We have plans this evening. Love to gathering with a extra notice while. Enjoy your special evening. ”

Put it out there and see how are you affected. A grownup dude who absolutely wants to recognize you will get often the message and acquire you at a distance ahead of time. A new farmer or purchaser guy will text any individual again in a few weeks attempting to see you in the evening. Take it so it is – he’s most likely not serious about online dating and your puppy is going down their list, in hopes you chew. Don’t reply.

4. Text messaging does have an optimistic place in internet dating. Texting can be a superb complement for you to real dating. For instance, may great way so as to clarify plans or develop last minute improvements to the program.

A man do people want a healthy, more mature connection can easily make every power to show you will he’s curious and to quite simply see you instantly. Why? Mainly because that’s the best way men determine whether they as you. It’s all about how she or he FEELS while he’s to your account, and he is aware of it. Whenever he’s looking for something more than one fun nighttime, a good guy will do exactly what he can to impress you by way of asking you offered, and then use your event.

Texting is usually good for a simple “had a great time” or maybe “sleep well” note after having a nice moment. Or a “looking forward to slurping spaghetti in addition to you Friday. ” Let him know if you are thinking of him / her and valuation him. Make it14972 simple, as well as leave it generally there. If you don’t grab back, proceed.

Here’s what to perform next to ensure you don’t get ensnared on the inappropriate guy again… You can find clear impulses when he IS CERTAINLY into any person… CLICK THIS and see how!

several. If she has a grownup fantastic guy, you are able to kindly purchase him along texting. I will see why perhaps good, reliable, single people love texting. If they sees your overall picture along with profile together with wants to meet up with you, the particular hunter along with him would want to get up on the result: discussion you. This is especially valid of some women I understand. They think chatting 1st just interrupts the routine and will need to skip the unit and/or email.

But No later than this say that again, executing a bunch of texting first can make an naive sense relating to connection. Like a little more, being a phone call at first, it’s your final choice to get over texting treadmill and ask for what you want. So when he is focused on9491 meeting a female for a authentic relationship, he will probably step up.

How would you do that? Just simply say this type of thing if this individual seems to be swept up on sending texts:

“It may be great to listen the modulation of voice connected to all these great written word and email. I’d love a telephone call when you’ve got period. Hope that works for you! 555-1212. ”

OR PERHAPS

“Thanks to get in touch. Allow me to get to know anyone but I find sending text messages isn’t an ideal way. But receiving up with you actually over coffee beans might be; ). ”

So… the bottom line in texting in addition to dating are these claims: use txt messaging sparingly, effectively and, above all, don’t study too much by it. Remember, true and genuine love come about in person, grin to laugh, touch to the touch. Not around the phone or if your computer.

I may LOVE to pick up your sending text messages stories in addition to answer this question about how to really make it work for you though dating or maybe in your marriage. Leave us your responses below.

from WordPress https://cvworld.io/blog/what-you-should-become-aware-of-texting-along-with-12/

#4

[caspian-skye]

The Apoptosis Project Ch.7, Welcome to Sentinel

“Twenty-five years after Salem's defeat, twins Caspian and Lazula Skye are finally of age to attend their father's academy; just in time for the Creatures of Grimm to return. While fighting the revived horror alongside Frontline Biomedical's controversial Organic Androids, they begin to unravel a web of secrets ensnaring more than they could have ever known.”

Caspian spent what was apparently the next couple of hours in varying states of consciousness.

His eyes opened just long enough to see a rugged-looking man with a scarred face and black hair pulled into a bun leaning over him. Caspian's sleeve rolled to his elbow, and a steel eye examined his arm. The man lacked Sentinel's security badge, and a dark cloak covered much of his body, but Caspian recognized him. Sure, he couldn't have fought back if the man was a stranger, given his state. But as he scooped him from the mud, Caspian felt a twinge of relief before drifting away again.

"He's alright. Not bleeding, but the bruising on his arm is bad," a gravelly voice commented. Caspian felt his weight transfer to something much softer than the cloaked man's arms. "Probably passed out from pain once the adrenaline wore off. Or the kick of his gun did it. Important thing is, he's alive."

"Oh, my baby!" his mother's voice wept in elation. Both voices were muffled, as if they spoke behind a closed door. Yet, Caspian distinctly remembered feeling his mother's arms around him. "Thank you, you and Kita both! Really, I... I can never thank you enough!"

"As head of security, this is simply my job. No thanks is necessary," a woman's voice responded. Ichigo's mother, Caspian guessed by the accent. A rare one, from the mountains of Northern Mistral. She paused. "...It is appreciated, though."

"She said it well," the gruff voice added. "Gotta give props to the kid though, he held his own against that thing. I can see a bit of his dad in him."

"My dad... right."

Caspian's eyes opened once to an empty room. He felt safe, but the space seemed uninviting in a way. The chaste grey curtains were drawn over the window. A near-empty desk sat at the far corner accompanied by a minimalist chair. The walls, apart from those covered by cabinets above the desk, were a barren off-white. He was rigged to an array of wires and medical equipment, right arm secured by a sling and a cast. His eyes still could not stay open, and he drifted off once more.

He heard another voice. A man's he had heard many times before. He couldn't make out his uncle's words, but heard bouts of laughter perforate them every now and then.

A clear memory began to play out in Caspian's mind like a dream.

The Winter Holiday had just passed, Remnant's annual celebration of the end of the Great War just over a hundred years before. All of his friends had stayed overnight with their parents, and upon waking had found themselves trapped by nearly a foot of snow. His friends- Rowan, Ichigo, Laurel, and Lazula, gathered in the living room playing a board game; the particular one he could no longer recall.

His father strode out from the kitchen, Holoband raised to his chin as he cut through the living room and into the hall. A hush fell over the boisterous crowd, the pounding of the Headmaster's cane on the hardwood floor filling the room with each of his labored steps.

"You... you what?" the Headmaster hissed. His eyes flicked to Caspian and the rest, then back to his door at the end of the hall. "No, no. I'm glad, this is just unexpected..."

His father took to his room for a few minutes, during which the game resumed and spirits lifted again. But with the unlocking of his door, another hush fell over the house. Everyone's eyes landed on the Headmaster, prompting an answer.

"That was Douglas," he spoke. "He wants to introduce you all to someone. They'll be here in about an hour."

Caspian awaited the knock on the door with bated breath. His father had been quiet since, the sole hint to the mystery guest's identity being "one of Frontline's patients." When the knock on the door came, Caspian sprung up to meet it. Yet, his father was faster.

His uncle stood at the door, trying his best to hold back a grin. Behind him was a girl. She was slender and short, standing level with Caspian's chin. Between boots, collared shirt, pale skin, stark hair and colorless eyes, she blended in with the snowy yard behind her. Her shirt and short denim overalls carried the creases of clothes fresh from the store. Caspian bid her a welcoming smile as their eyes met, but it faded as she stared at him without expression.

"Everyone," Uncle Douglas announced, indicating the girl. "This is Snow. She'll be living with Holly and I for the time being, at least until she enrolls in Sentinel with you." He smirked. "I hope you kids can play well together."

Caspian was crowded from behind, and heard a cascade of questions tumble down on the poor girl.

"How did you end up at Frontline?"

"You're coming to Sentinel with us?"

"Show us your weapon!"

"What's your semblance?"

Snow stepped into the doorway, looking at no one in particular. "My name is Snow Hudson. I was taken in by Frontline Biomedical Technology for treatment, and will be joining you in applying to Sentinel Academy. My weapon includes four hard-light dust configurations, taking the shape of a sword, military-grade dust rifle, an axe, and a whip. These configurations are labelled A through D, respectively. My semblance allows me to analyze nearly all of an object's physical properties, such as mass, velocity, and chemical composition."

The room was quiet.

"Well, i-it's nice to meet you, Snow," Caspian concluded.

Her head turned until she looked to him with a blank gaze. The white of her eyes struck him.

"It's nice to meet you as well."

The next thing Caspian remembered, after realizing Snow was even more awkward around new people than he, was Snow leaving the room to consult with his father. Uncle Douglas sat down, wringing his hands and leaning in with an uncharacteristically serious look painting his face.

"I want you all to know something about Snow," Douglas murmured. "I deal more with the... technology side of things at Frontline, but she's suffered from one of the most serious cases of abuse I've seen in my time there. It's taken her a month just to get cleared for release."

The room responded with nods of understanding.

"I hope you can all be friends. But... it would be best if you guys didn't ask her much about her past."

The honking sound of a chair scooting across the ground scraped the memory from Caspian's mind.

"Oops."

Caspian's eyes blinked open, again revealing the unwelcoming room. He looked to his side to see his uncle, hand resting on the back of the chair. He stepped around the front of the seat, and sat next to Caspian's bedside facing him. Caspian wouldn't have preferred anyone else at the moment. Uncle Doug was like a second father to him, one far more empathic than the first. Sure his work at Frontline --whatever it was-- kept him busy, and he always made a point to put his wife first, but he always had time for Caspian.

"Good morning," he greeted with a wry smile.

"It's not actually morning, is it?" Caspian grumbled, rubbing an eye. He looked to Uncle Doug. "And where am I?"

"You're in Sentinel's infirmary," Douglas informed. "And no, you've been unconscious for a little over two hours."

Sentinel's infirmary. Caspian figured if he had been seriously injured, he would have been taken to Frontline's main hospital, just a couple of miles away at the tip of Port Cyrreine's Northern peninsula. But still, whether due to the cast or his injury, he could barely move his arm. With any twitch of the finger, a nagging, dull, ache would spread from wrist to elbow.

"...Did I break my arm?"

Uncle Douglas shook his head. "When your mom stopped by earlier, she checked you out. She said a couple of ligaments got twisted up in your elbow, and there were some bone bruises down your arm. You should be fine to go to the Entrance Ceremony tonight."

Caspian's functional hand gripped the blankets at his waist, and he looked wistfully to the foot of his bed.

"I don't want to go."

Douglas sighed. "Don't you want to support your friends?" he prompted.

"I do, and I'm glad they got in, but..." Caspian shook his head gently. "I don't know. I just really don't want to watch all the other people who did."

Douglas nodded. He unstrapped his Holoband from his wrist, unravelling it until it lay flat on the table beside Caspian's bed. A screen blinked to life between the two of them. "Maybe this'll change your mind," he offered. He leaned into his Holoband.

"Show news for Port Cyrreine."

The screen paused for a bit before showing two news anchors at a table, with a smaller screen imposed behind them. "Frightening moments on the campus of Sentinel Academy today, as a second Grimm attack occurs less than twenty-four hours after the first," the anchor reported.

The co-host chimed in. "This Grimm attack happened at the end of Sentinel's Final Entrance Examination. While no one was killed or seriously injured, thousands were forced to flee as the Creatures of Darkness descended on the area just North of Sentinel Stadium."

"Headmaster Skye's safety measures, along with Frontline Biomedical's Organic Androids and several huntsmen are credited with saving countless lives today. However, there is one more hero getting some special attention after today's events."

The miniature screen behind the two overtook them. A man in a blue raincoat offered a microphone to another man, whose hoodie had soaked through in the rain.

"Yeah, we- we were stuck in the stands, with this huge Grimm between us and the exit," he began, hands flailing with each animated word. "I-I-I looked to my wife and said, 'th-this might be it, I love you.' but- but just then, this kid comes out of the training grounds, I don't know if he was late or what, and he starts fighting the thing. Without him, I'm not sure if I'd be here."

The screen switched to a woman holding a bright umbrella. "Yes, I think he should get in! I think fighting a real Creature of Grimm and saving real people is as good a practical exam as any, and he passed."

"Wait, am... am I..." Caspian stumbled. He felt silly even daring let the words leave his lips.

"I can't guarantee you'll get in," Douglas said. "But, your dad isn't as 'by the books' as he lets on these days. He might make a special case for you." He stood suddenly, strapping his Holoband back to his wrist and checking the time. "I won't force you to go. But if you do, I'd start getting ready as soon as you can. It's in an hour, and seeing as no one has been let out of the stadium since the attack, all the good seats are just about gone. You might want to wash yourself off a bit, too. Showers are at the end of the hall."

-

Caspian had seen the hulking Sentinel Stadium from the outside, but his first time inside, he felt utterly dwarfed. A wall of spectators surrounded the center, their collective chatter coalescing into a roar. The academy hopefuls lucky enough to get in, Caspian noticed, sat in the arena in rows between him and a temporary stage. A square of screens hovered dozens of feet above, flashing advertisements and promotions.

"You were right about the good seats filling up..." Caspian noted, walking down the steps and scanning for enough uncomfortable plastic seats for him, his Uncle Douglas, and Aunt Holly.

Douglas pointed to a trio of seats a couple of rows down, next to the aisle. "Ah, what about there?"

Caspian would have preferred not sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a stranger, but the redheaded woman with impeccable posture seemed good enough a neighbor. She paid him little mind as he sat next to her, even as he examined her unusual uniform. It was one he would expect of some fancy company's secretary. Maybe she just got off work, he guessed.

She turned ever slightly, allowing Caspian a glimpse at her side opposite him. Written in slim black letters, the words "Frontline Biomedical" adorned her chest.

"What?"

Caspian couldn't stop himself from whispering the word in disbelief. The android woman looked at him without a hint of expression. His eyes met hers. Something about their stony grey gaze seemed so... human. Of course he knew Organic Android skin, hair, and eyes were grown from human stem cells-- hence the "Organic" in their name, but this woman looked like any other in the crowd.

Her gaze remained on him for an uncomfortable amount of time. He could feel it on him as he looked back to the stage, begging the ceremony to begin. He knew she couldn't think. She couldn't be made to feel uncomfortable by his gaze, nor could she be annoyed. Her stare carried no cognition whatsoever. It was the stare of a mindless computer collecting data, through a pair of cameras that happened to look like eyes.

Finally, the lights dimmed, and the ceremony began.

The announcement of teams dragged on for some time, each name coupled with a bout of cheers from somewhere in the crowd, and each team coupled with a more general applause. The squirrel faunus and her partner got in, Caspian noticed. He felt happy for them. Yet with each team the Headmaster announced, and every name that wasn't his, his flicker of hope dwindled.

"This brings us down to the last two teams," the Headmaster announced. "Lazula Skye, Snow Hudson, Laurel Verdi, and Ichigo Kurayami. Would you four please come to the stage?"

Lazula strode up, with Snow behind her. More cheered for them than anyone prior, probably owing to Lazula's celebrity status. Laurel smiled as she followed, and Ichigo glanced at the onlookers, filling in behind her.

"After seeing the teamwork you four exhibited in the Final Entrance Examination, and how hard you fought during the Grimm attack after, I simply couldn't let you end up on different teams. During your time at the Academy, you will work under the name Team LSLI; lead by Lazula Skye."

The stadium erupted with cheer. Lazula drank it in, smirking and staring down the camera drone that hovered in front of the four. Her cape flowed behind her as she cleared the stage.

"And finally, I call Rowan Brown, Lilliane Corvis-Braun, and Noxis Orion to the stage."

Caspian blinked. There were only three of them. Lilly, rising onto the balls of her feet to brush sand from Rowan's nose. Rowan, complaining about the sand in his hair and clothes. And Noxis, crossing his arms and looking as if he'd rather be with anyone else. Caspian turned to his uncle, whose lips let on the beginnings of a smile.

"You three passed Sentinel's Final Entrance Exam quite handily," the Headmaster began. "But, as you may realize, there are only three of you standing on the stage right now."

A spotlight shone on Caspian, and a pair of drones gathered a couple of arms' lengths away. His heart began to pound as he realized his shocked face was on the screen, displayed to thousands in the stadium, and countless more watching from home all across Vale.

"During the attack today, something happened. Facing down danger and the very real possibility of death, this young man was given a choice. He chose to fight. I believe his actions today saved numerous lives, and exhibited exactly what it means to be a huntsman."

Caspian felt a stinging in his nose, and blinked away the beginning of tears. "Don't cry. Don't cry," he recited. "Oh gods, how many people are about to see me cry?"

"Caspian Skye, please come down to the stage."

Uncle Douglas clapped Caspian on the back as he passed into the aisle, and Aunt Holly grabbed his hand with a smile. As the stadium erupted with applause, Caspian walked down the stairs in quick, measured steps, finally reaching the arena and stage.

"You made it, man!" Rowan cheered.

"Congratulations!" Lilly beamed.

"After seeing you step up to face the Bullfiend, there was no doubt in my mind I would allow you admission into the academy," the Headmaster stated. "During your time here, you will work under the name Team CRLN, led by Caspian Skye."

"Lead by?" Caspian reflected. "...I couldn't have heard that right."

"Lead by? Is this a joke?" Noxis spat.

His words were lost in the roar of the crowd. From where Caspian stood, the stands seemed so much taller than before. The wall of spectators was over a hundred feet tall, maybe two. Shutter flashes blinked across the crowd like a swarm of fireflies. He looked down. Even his sister applauded him. Ichigo, Laurel, and Snow sat with her; and Lilly and Rowan stood to his side.

The tears he had fought to hold back all broke free at once, and he hid his face from the world.

#rwby oc #rwby fanfiction #rwby #rwby oc fanfiction