#my headphones: screaming and gunfire

[zincbot]

the amount of call of duty i have consumed in the last week....

#call of duty #i say consumed cause there's no way i'm playing that shit fps is not for me #i just feel like i wanna know whats up #and i need smth on in the bg while i play stardew for the 7th time #(this time i'm doing a fun challenge where i don't organize my chests at all and keep at minimum one of every item #(including flower colour alts and items of diff quality levels) #anyway yeah i've watched silent playthroughs of the entire cod 4 mw campaign and i'm 90% of the way though world at war #be me: watching the sdv flower dance #my headphones: screaming and gunfire #anyway cod is an interesting franchise to think abt the singleplayer for because #99% of the playerbase is only playing the multiplayer pvp that cod is known for #but yeah it's kind of fun to think about harm and 'realistic' military portrayals that don't ever go much deeper than surface #not offering any glimpse into the reasons behind why they talk how they do. #AND THE SOUNDTRACK? never before have i experienced a soundtrack that so soundly (lmao) undermines any punch the story could have had #it just sucks out the horror completely when a kickass riff starts up when you pick up a flamethrower or whatever the fuck #world of war especially is so obsessed with showing brutality but takes out its own message before it can get anywhere

[loviatarwrites]

after the mission (nsfw)

Chamber x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: After your first field mission Chamber visits your apartment to make sure that you are doing fine.

A/N: I decided to finally make a blog for all of my fics so I have another place apart from ao3 to post them. Most of them are very much nsfw so keep that in mind when reading. 

The ticking got louder. It wasn’t actually louder, but in your head, it mixed with the sounds of the fight and yells that told you to defuse the Spike before everything goes sideways. You sweated and your hands wouldn’t do what you wanted. Why did you agree to come with them to the field mission? Your place was not where people were shooting their copies and it was definitely not the “simple and quick” mission Killjoy had sold to you when you had asked to borrow some of her spare parts for your project.

“Relax. You’re doing fine, but please hurry a little bit.” Killjoy’s voice came from behind you and mixed with the sound of Phantom. You tried to keep yourself calm, but it wasn’t as easy as on the practise situations, and you swore that you would never come back to the field ever again.

Flash before your eyes. Shots. Only thing between you and the bullet is one box of Radianite. You didn’t see anything, and you wanted to scream but no voice came out from your body. You hold the defuser on the place and hoped that you got to see your small apartment on the Valorant headquarters again. Then a shot from a sniper rifle. Even louder than the one from Operator. And another one. You closed your eyes. You hold the trigger and hope that the Spike defused itself before your brains were just mush on the ground. The ticking got more aggressive. No, this was not how you end. The ticking stopped.

“Told you not to stress, Y/N.” Everything was silent around you, and it took you a while to register Killjoy’s words. You took a deep breath, everything was hazy.

“Killjoy, I said that this was most definitely a bad idea. You almost got her killed.” Another agent walked next to the defused Spike, and you see that Chamber had returned from his sniping position next to the Spike’s planting spot. “We have to return and when we do, you shall be the one to explain to Brimstone what happened.”

“Meine güte! Do I also tell him that the place still has an alert that tells that you’re not welcome?”

“I would highly advice against that, mademeoiselle Killjoy.”

You were silent and wondered how you would recover from this mission. At this moment curling up to your lab to tinker your tech felt like a good idea, much better than seeing sunlight, gunfire and people that looked just like you, but they wanted you very, very dead. It didn’t take long for a helicopter to pick you up, and even the flight back to the HQ wasn’t long you couldn’t but to sit silent, wondering why you ever thought this was a good idea.

There were moments when you wanted to sink to the bottom of your bathtub, and this was one of them. When you had gotten back to the base, Brimstone was waiting for you and before you had time to put hands to your ears, he had started to yell to Killjoy about taking you with them to the mission. Yes, your abilities were helpful, but loud noises still made you freeze on your place. It wasn’t angry yelling, more worried kind but it was still way too quickly after gunfire and flashes for your taste.

“Do you ever feel like you have to learn how to say no?” You poked a small rubber duck around the bath and sank even lower, so your nose was underwater. You spoke out loud but couldn’t hear yourself because of the headphones you were wearing, and the music helped you to keep your head on the present.

“Like, I know what I’m doing but who takes a newbie to the mission? I want to help but maybe, just maybe I’m more suited to the lab than on the field?” The music was fast, and it had a beat that made your brain feel nice. The experience on the field wasn’t traumatic, but it wasn’t pleasant either, and it made you wonder how Killjoy, Viper, Chamber, and others did those multiple times and kept themselves mostly sane. Damn, most of the times Chamber just stood on one position, looking through his sniper and shot time and time again and looked just like any other well-dressed man after that.

“I should get myself together.”

You poked the rubber duck on the other side of the bath.

“I really should.”

You unplugged the bath and the water leaked out and forced you to move. It was good way to tell yourself not to sink to the tub until the next day or next week.

“Okay, Y/N, get yourself together. It’s not even that late yet so maybe you can get something to snack before the bed.”

You poured yourself a glass of iced tea and with all of your remaining willpower got yourself to living room. Most of your braincells would’ve liked to go to sleep but you forced yourself to stay awake a little bit longer, and maybe a little bit of sugary water with a hint of lemon would help with that. Your sofa was soft and spacious, so you could just lay down and look at the ceiling while thinking about everything that happened today, of how Killjoy said that they needed your one-way mirrors to scout Mirror Earth agents and that they would be really helpful. Were they really, that you weren’t sure but at least you could use your abilities to something else than creating weird windows all around the headquarters?

You drifted away and almost fell asleep, but your doorbell woke you up with a sound that pierced through your headphones. It took a second or two for you to reach to your bracelet that had your apartment lights and doors coded in it, and with little bit of struggling you got to the door opening button.

“Just come in, it’s not locked!” You climbed up to the sitting position and sipped last of your tea that had been on the table for a while now.

“I can come later if you wish.” Chamber was standing at the door, still halfway on the outside of your apartment. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

You dropped your headphones to your shoulders and got up to grab another glass of tea from the kitchen.

“You already did so come here and tell what you want.”

“I just wanted to check that you were doing fine. Y/N, you seemed rather, how do I say it, quiet after the latest mission.”

“Wasn’t really the best thing I have done not going to lie.”

Chamber got to your living room and sit on the other side of the sofa while you got back from your kitchen with a glass of tea on your hand. He looked at your glass and you felt how he judged you silently because of your drink of choice. You knew Chamber liked black coffee, but you couldn’t stand the taste of that liquid even if caffeine would help you to stay awake.

“I don’t know if I want to go to field ever again. All of those noises and bangs and booms all around me.” You sit to the other side of the sofa and after you had said that you realize what you had just let out of your mouth. “Sorry, didn’t mean that. Your sniper is cool.”

“Oh but it is rather loud, yes?”

“Well, yes. But I didn’t mean it like that.” You quickly finished your drink and leaned closer to Chamber. This wasn’t the first time he was at your apartment, so you knew he would most likely be okay with you seeking comfort from him. After he had came to your lab to borrow tools for his weapon project which had escalated to second and third visit you had learned to know him closer than most other agents.

“I know Y/N, that’s why I was surprised you wanted to join us.”

“Was I helpful to you at least?” You pressed yourself against his side and felt how his arm wrapped around your shoulder when you pressed your knees to your chest. You leaned to him and felt how you are like a small kitten that seeked shelter from a big cat with a fancy suit. Well, that thought made much more sense in your head.

“You were, I was just worried that something would happen to you.” Chamber pulled you closer to his side, and you hid your face against your knees.

“I just want to go back to my lab and never leave it again.”

“That would be very unpleasant, Y/N.”

You muttered words to your knees on a language Chamber didn’t understand, but by the tone of your voice you could tell that he had an idea that you were ranting to yourself. Chamber’s hand leaved your shoulder and moved to your side and when he moved you from the side to sit on his lap you instantly let out a small, surprised sound. You looked at his face up close, so close that you could see all of the small details and that his face was both serious and playful.

“You are safe now. And you’ll be safe on a field. I make sure you are safe.”

His fingers traced your brow and moved a small strand of hair away from your face. Chamber kissed your neck lightly and you couldn’t help but to let the moan escape your lips when he did, and you felt how he sucked the same spot before parting. Your hands found their way to Chamber’s hair, and you pulled his head back to meet his lips with yours, and the tiredness replaced itself with hunger when you kissed him until you had to catch your breath.

“I must’ve come to meet you at a good time, yes?”

“Well you know that I like having you around. Brim probably doesn’t like it though. All that “leave your old life when you join the program” doesn’t probably mean searching interesting people within the program.”

“Do you care about his opinion?”

“Hmm… no, not really. Not at this point.”

Chamber pushed you to the sofa and leaned on top of you, and you looked as he placed his hand to your side and pulled your top off. He moved his fingers on your breast and thumb massaged your nipple, and the sensation is way stronger than it should’ve been. Your breathe got deeper, and you saw how Chamber looked at you with concerned face. Maybe you were looking more tired than you had realized, because that was a face he didn’t show often.

“You’re not breaking me, don’t worry.”

Your voice was like a permission to him, and his hand pinned yours on top of your head, making you unable to move, but you were more than willing to let him do what he wanted. Chamber moved his free hand from your breast between your legs, and you thought for a moment if you were lying when you said he can’t break you. He kissed your neck again but soon the kiss changed to sucking that would most likely leave you marked for couple of days. When Chamber moved to another spot while still rubbing you with his hands you gave in to the pleasure and let him take as long as he wanted because if one thing is sure, he knew how to make you feel good.

“Do you still think you don’t break?”

You felt how Chamber’s fingers pushed in, and you couldn’t but to moan from the pleasure he was giving to you. “Or do you want me to try to break you?”

“So far nothing I can’t handle.” You took a deep breath when he moved his fingers, and you wanted to scream that you wanted more from him. As much as you enjoyed where you were you knew that there was much more he could offer to you, and when he had come to your apartment he wasn’t thinking just taking you kindly and gently.

You had no idea how long you’ve been going, and the only thing you knew for a fact is that you were grooling mess that must find a scarf to wear for a breakfast tomorrow. Chamber had taken his time to make sure he was not moving too fast, but by the look on his face he enjoyed seeing you squirm under him and moaning for him to keep going, time and time again until you were out of breath.

“You want more, yes?” His face was close to yours, and you could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“Yes Chamber, please, give me more.”

He took his hand from yours and began to pull down your pants and panties down your legs, leaving you naked when he removed his clothes on a neat pile next to the sofa. The cold air from your apartment catch itself to your skin which made you shiver but you didn’t want to whine about that at that point. After he returned on top of you, he gave you a deep kiss, and you felt how his tongue entered your mouth. The kiss was passionate and long and while you were concentrating on that, you felt Chamber’s fingers down on you again. He teased your folds for a while until he parted them, and you felt how his cock slide against your pussy and slowly filled you up.

“Please Chamber, please break me.” Your voice was more of a moan and whine than actual voice, but it told Chamber you wanted him to go on.

First movements were gentle, but soon you felt how Chamber begun to move faster and rougher than he has on a previous times with you. He pressed against you and his muscular frame covered your body so if anyone had walked to the room, they would’ve look for a second to see that you were under him. You had had your doubts how your body would be able to take him, but this time it was even more than before.

When Chamber had first came to your lab you didn’t think that a weapon designer would be interested in your work, but soon you realized that he wasn’t only interested in that. Sometimes you wondered, if that was intention from the start and you were just a way for him to let out steam, but at this moment it wasn’t important for you. You were enjoying how he took you, hold you on a place and how you, who usually bossed everyone around could willingly submit to him and let him take the lead.

Your mind came back to the present when Chamber’s cock stretched your insides and every time he pushed in you it felt like he went deeper than before, and only thing that your brain was able to do was to beg him to keep going and keep going harder. There was no time to think about the whole “what did he see in me” at this point, and your thoughts were mostly just lust and hunger that he would go even harder than he did.

One thrust after another, your moans mixing up with Chamber’s as you asked more time after another. You wanted to keep going, but the sensation was getting too much for you. The feeling of his cock inside you, and hearing Chamber’s low moans next to your ear. Your insides clenched and the heat inside you became too much to bear. Without a warning, when you felt him hitting the deepest spot you screamed, and your vision went blurry for couple of seconds as the orgasm flowed over you.

“Thank you Chamber.” You panted and your hands crossed to his neck as you leaned closer to him.

“You’re most welcome Y/N, but are you still willing to prove that I can’t break you?”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Let’s see.”

You felt how Chamber’s hands found your sides and rolled you around, so you were on your belly, and that was something you were not anticipating. But you were willing to prove him wrong as much as you wanted him to continue until you felt how long he was willing to go with you. Your hands were hold on top of your head when every inch of him disappeared into you and you stretched to fit him just right.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

Chamber was laying on top of you after a time that felt like it could’ve been anything between a blink of an eye and multiple hours. You felt the weight of his body on your back, and it made you feel like you were safe.

“Like I said, I don’t break easily so yes, I liked it very much.”

Chamber rolled to your side so you could press yourself against his chest when he wrapped your arms around you.

“I remember you saying that you don’t break, yes?”

“Oh did I? Maybe you’ll have to come up with even more ways to see if that’s true then?”

“It seems like I have to, mademeoiselle Y/N.”

You knew that if you kept talking like that next time he would try even more, which made you want to keep talking the whole night.

#chamber x reader #chamber #chamber valorant #chamber x you #fanfic #smut #my story #vincent fabron #naughty

[famousfilmsfan]

(This takes place in my Zombie Au)

TW: Mentions of trauma, death and handling of firearms

Bryan and Gregory we're in Freddy Land

Bryan: Now Gregory you’re ten years old. Now i’m gonna teach you something my surrogate father taught me when I was ten.

Gregory: What was that?

Bryan: *Pulls a pistol out of a hidden holster* how to fire a gun.

Gregory: Wow! Aren't I too young?

Bryan: You’re never too young, besides i’m a licensed trainer I can teach anybody.

Bryan set up some bottles on a railing near the hotel.

Bryan: Now, *puts a pair of headphones on gregory* Theae will protect your ears got it?

Gregory: won't you need some?

Bryan: Nah i’ve been surrounded by gunfire, my ears ring all the time i’m basically immune at this point. Now.

Bryan gives Gregory the weapon and stands behind him

Bryan: Relax your arms, and aim just slightly below where you want to hit.

Gregory: Then I pull the trigger right?

Bryan: No, no, you gently squeeze it. Now *holds his shoulders firmly* You might feel some recoil, so shift your right foot in front of you and turn it slightly to keep your balance.

Bryan: and....now!

Gregory shoots, and the bottle shatters

Gregory: *Super proud* I did it!

Bryan: Yeah you did. Now, aim for the one on the fountain, a little range this time.

They repeat the process but Gregory doesn't get the bottle he shoots the fountain.

Gregory: Oh no i’m so sorry!

Bryan: It’s fine, Gregory; it’s just a mistake, aim a little higher.

Gregory does so and makes it yet again.

Bryan: There we go, now I think that’s enough for today, how about we try something else?

Gregory: Like what?

Bryan and Gregory are both in a hotel room. There's a large amount of objects laying on the bed.

Bryan: Now i’m gonna teach you how you to pack a bugout bag. Now since your backpack is quite small you’ll have less things to fit in it. So what do you grab?

Gregory: Hmm. The...first aid kit, the can opener, swiss army knife, and the flashlight.

Bryan: Good, but then you’ll have little room for clothes, so it’s always good to carry different clothing on yourself, wrap a jacket around your waist when your hot and no matter the weather wear jeans, you’ll be a bit uncomfortable but that’s better then death.

Gregory: Uh..dad? I'm not complaining but why are you teaching me these things?

Bryan: Well, I just think you should be taught these things instead of learning the hard way if an outbreak happens again.

Gregory: An outbreak? What do you mean?

Bryan: Well, I think you’re old enough to know, but if you want me to stop just say so okay?

Gregory sits cross legged on the bed.

Bryan: When I was around your age, the city I lived in Elkridge was hit by a zombie outbreak.

Gregory: Zombies? I thought those weren't real.

Bryan: Oh they were real alright. And real scary...and I was your age, my parents went on a trip over spring break and left me with my babysitter Michael, neither of us knew what was going on at first, nobody did. We tried to escape the city but his car broke down. We had to walk but we got confronted with a horde...luckily these nice people inside a department store let us in.

Gregory: That’s good.

Bryan: Yeah, the leader of the group Doug was super mean though, he screamed at the guy who let us in, said he meant that door should stay shut no matter what.

<Flashback>

Doug: When I say that door stays shut no matter what I fucking mean it!

Andrew: He has a kid Doug.

Doug: so do I! You can't just endanger us to save these guys!

Boy: Dad calm down please.

Doug: Jon please stay out of this.

Younger Bryan: *Tugs on Micheal's sleeve*

Micheal: What is it?

Younger Bryan: I..I need to pee. *shaking*

Micheal: In a moment, Bryan.

Doug: Stop ignoring me!

Micheal: shut up! You can't just yell at people who ignore you

Bryan: *Narrating* I really needed to go so I silently snuck off. Which I kinda regret.

Younger Bryan: Come on it’s gotta be somewhere. *Enters a room* Oh it’s a closet...um

There was a Zombified Janitor standing there with his back facing Bryan.

Younger Bryan: Uh..sir?

The zombie turns around.

Younger Bryan; *Screams and runs out of the janitors closet

Micheal: Bryan!

Doug: Jesus!

Micheal ran over to Bryan and pulled the zombie away from him, kicking him into a cabinet. They proceeded to struggle.

Bryan: Then that’s when everything began to ring.

Younger Bryan: *Holds his ears* Ahh!

Micheal pushes the dead zombie off of him.

A man with glasses in a sweater vest is standing holding a revolver.

Man: Is he okay?

Micheal: *holding his ears* What?

Man: Oh right, sorry, you might need to see a doctor after all this.

Then the barricaded door to the building begins to budge, the gunshot attracted the nearby horde they were hiding from.

Doug: *Whispers* Everyone down.

Everyone hides behind the counter.

Younger Bryan: *Shaking* Mikey i’m scared.

Micheal: *Holding him close* So am I bud.

Then the sound of a siren going by filled the room.

Man with a gun: Is that the police?

Younger Jon: Thanks for whoever it is.

The zombies at the door left well, the majority of them.

Doug: Ugh! We almost died because of this bastard and his itchy trigger finger! That was so stupid! You could have killed us! You-

Man with a gun: Shut up, Doug, for once.

Doug: *Gasps offended*

Man: I‘ve known you for over an hour and i’m super annoyed.

Doug: Ugh! Whatever! *Storms off and sulks in the corner*

Micheal: Thank you so much uh..

Sebastian; Call me Sebastian, I’m a reporter for CNN.

Micheal: Cool, didn't know that this thing was on the news.

Sebastian: It kind of was, but the crew abandoned me and took the van. Bastards.

Younger Bryan: Language.

Sebastian: Sorry kid.

Micheal: Bryan why don't you go talk to that Jon kid, and I think there's another kid in here.

Younger Bryan: Okay. *walks off*

<Back in the present>

Gregory: That was pretty cool, then what happened?

Bryan: I uh...don’t wanna talk about it right now.

Gregory: Oh..well can I ask something?

Bryan: What?

Gregory: Did you wet your pants when you saw the zombie?

Bryan: *Embarrassed* Uh...I don't know.

#fnaf 6 #thefamousfilms #fnaf gregory #craftingdead

[my-ceiling-is-scuffed]

Amaranth squinted at her phone. Another text from work demanding she show up to fill in for an absent coworker later this week. She sighed and let the screen go dark before slipping the device back into the pocket of her sweatpants. It took her eyes a moment to readjust to the early evening dimness that had crept over the street. The air was cool, but very humid. This part of town was nearly always dripping wet. Condensate peppered the glass of any intact windows, and moss crawled between the concrete slabs of the empty side road underfoot. Other people were few and far between by this time. Amaranth preferred to avoid the crowds and glaring lights of the local main streets.

Overall, it was an unremarkable moment in the grueling life of Amaranth Fletcher, and as such, she was as detached from the present as possible. Old school headphones, a gift from Silas Vance, piped skull-rattling music into her head. The beat flooded her neural pathways, washing away any expendable cognitive function. It was hardly the rest she was sorely missing, but as far as coping mechanisms went, loud music wasn’t a terrible crutch. At least until reality came knocking.

A hand planted itself into her bicep. The force of a frenzied shove set her world askew. She hit the pavement, hard. A sickening static bubbled around her.

The clamor of gunfire. Air hazy with scentless smoke and neon lights. The comfort of control and the thrill of adventure. The wild, kind eyes of a near-stranger going dark.

An all-too familiar voice. The open door of a threatened safe haven. A crushing weight pressing more with every word. The panic of revelations. Betrayal.

The city’s network as a heartbeat. A power outage like cardiac arrest. The surge of sickening light. Towering abominations pouring into the streets. Screams. The void.

Amaranth gasped for air. The wet pavement leeched cold into her back. She forced herself to sit up. The dredges of static subsided.

Heavy boots pounded the concrete. Amaranth watched from the ground as the man who had pushed her out of the way dashed for the shelter of a nearby alleyway. Behind him followed a handful of unkempt salvagers, the sort of folks who made a living sifting through discarded (or unattended) tech for resellable parts. Still reeling, Amaranth stood. She pulled her crooked headphones down around her neck, where they spat tinny synths into the night, and blinked the visions away. It took only a moment for her to recognize the alley the guy had ducked into was one of several dead ends along this street. If the people after him were pissed enough to hunt him down in public like this, Amaranth didn’t want to dwell on what was about to go down in that dim little corridor.

Except she couldn’t shake that final impression. A sensationless void. An infinite expanse of nothing brought on by some unimaginable, chaotic event. The same unending blackness that had haunted her nightmares even before they took a turn for the worse, was etched into the future of a stranger. That was certainly new. Amaranth had done enough oracling to know that surprises were never a good thing.

That same life experience reminded her that if she wanted more information, she’d need to talk to the guy about to be offed in an alleyway a few feet up the road. And that dead guys don’t tend to be super talkative. Amaranth grimaced and took off for the alley.

She realized as she stepped into the narrow passage that she had no plan to deal with the salvagers.

“Shit.”

Her muttered curse drew the eyes of everyone in the alley. The woman closest to her went as far as to turn, hefting a club of messily-welded pipes.

“Listen,” Amaranth held her hands up, “I’m just here for my, uh, friend. Sorry if he said some shit or something, but. . .” She trailed off.

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here before we-”

“I’ll call enforcement.” Amaranth fumbled her phone out of her pocket. Of course, there was no guarantee they’d show up. Everyone knew enforcement mostly protected business owners.

“Okay, girlie.” The woman with the club stalked up to her, “Have it your way.” The other salvagers turned back to the guy, who had scrambled all the way to the back wall. Amaranth’s focus darted between the attacker approaching her, and the man on the ground, surrounded. Why was her last resort always the same, miserable idea?

The pipe club cut a wild, easily-avoided arc through the air in front of Amaranth’s face. More of a warning than an attack. Amaranth used the woman’s follow-through to get close enough to put a hand on her shoulder. Her mind filled with static.

Jobs. Negotiations. A hijacking. Shipments. Payments. Survival. The usual, boring, cookie cutter surface thoughts.

Pressing just slightly deeper, there were lovers. Exes. Loneliness. Small mistakes and regrets. Hobbies, parties, and drugs. Family issues. Family. . . A sister. Younger. Dependent. Distant. Perfect.

Amaranth resurfaced, dragging memories of an estranged little sibling to the front of the woman’s mind with her. She could feel the telltale pull of trauma and fear, taught cords in a web of memories that could be plucked or severed at her convenience. A wave of unexpected emotion crashed over the salvager. Amaranth saw the cocky, annoyed expression dissolve. The club clattered to the ground. Amaranth sighed. Manipulating people was scummy. Then again, so was beating up guys she wanted to talk to in alleyways.

“What did you do?”

“Tell them to stop. You all can leave, but I need that guy in one piece.” Amaranth tipped her head to the violence ensuing behind them.

“I’m not-”

“Do you want to find out just how miserable I can make you?” Amaranth let the static rise to a sizzle again. “Take your friends, and get the fuck out.”

���F-fuck you,” the woman spat. But she turned nonetheless. “Guys, we need to go!” Her shout betrayed the tightness in her throat. She cut off the following protests. “Seriously. Now. Leave it.”

Amaranth stepped out of the way as the confused salvagers slunk out of the alley. Most made sure to throw their most hateful glance at her as they left, muttering amongst themselves. Amaranth rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t quite tamp down the pang of regret for messing with that woman’s head. Whoever this was, he had better be worth it. Answers were hard to come by in her line of work.

Satisfied that she and the stranger were alone, Amaranth cautiously approached him. Despite the fervor of the salvagers, he seemed fairly unharmed. That struck her as a little odd, but if the salvagers thought he was carrying something valuable, it would make sense that they’d want whatever it was intact. It was also pretty hard to make judgments about someone’s physical well-being when they were curled in the fetal position. Amaranth cleared her throat.

“You, uh, you doing alright?” She nudged him with her foot. He shifted, sitting up slightly, head bowed as though to keep his face hidden.

“I think that might remain to be seen.” His voice was low and smooth. Amaranth was surprised by how composed he seemed after basically being jumped in the street. This guy was turning out to be quite the mystery. Her hopes of learning anything useful from him were not high.

“Well, I got rid of your friends. So for the time being you seem pretty alright to me.”

“And who are you, exactly?” He glanced up at Amaranth through black, curly hair. His eyes were a bright cyan. Modded, probably. They were only a shade or two darker than the hood of his windbreaker.

“A concerned citizen who was run over by a delinquent in the streets.”

“I knew that already. I meant your name. Identifying information. An introduction.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You work for enforcement?”

“No.”

“How about Astra?”

“I can’t get a job. I don’t work for anybody” He sighed and stood, adjusting his backpack carefully. Amaranth had already pieced together that this guy was strange, but the antennae sticking out of his bag really sold it. Maybe the tech he was dragging around was what got the salvagers’ attention.

“Pretty sure half the places on the main drag are hiring.”

“They can’t hire me.” He chuckled, almost despondent.

“Well not with that attitude.”

“And not without identification.”

“What-” Amaranth fumbled, put off by the idea that there were people wandering around without ID. “Did you lose your hand in an accident or something?”

“Sure.” His cool tone clarified that he, in fact, had probably endured nothing of the like.

“Well, I’d ask who the fuck you are, but evidently-”

“Olliver.” He extended a hand. “My friends call me Ollie.”

Amaranth raised an eyebrow at his gesture. This dude was all over the damn place.

“Alright, Olliver.” She crossed her arms. One vision of the abyss today was more than enough. “How does a guy with no ID and no job end up being chased down for spare parts at 6 pm on a weeknight?”

“I don’t know what they were after.” Olliver lower his hand. His expression darkened. Amaranth figured he probably had a damn good idea of what they were after, and no intention of sharing that particular detail with her.

“I’m sure.” Amaranth rolled her eyes. “And you definitely won’t have any similar issues in the future.”

“I hope not.”

“Great, see you then.” She turned to leave. Whatever Olliver’s deal was, he didn’t seem the type to be enthused at facing the circumstances their conversation had laid out on his own.

“Wait!” Checkmate. Amaranth paused, her back to Olliver. A bemused smirk played at her lips. “I mean. . . Look, I really need identification. If you happen to know anyone, or somewhere I could stay until I find someone who does. . .” Olliver sighed. “I can pay you back once I get an account set up.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head, pretending to debate his offer. “Well, I guess I do technically have an empty couch. And I might know a few people I could ask about contraband ID chips.”

“Really? That’s- I mean, that’s fantastic.” Amaranth sauntered out of the alley, and Olliver stumbled after her. “Talk about good luck.”

“Or I’m lying to you and this is an abduction.” Amaranth raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll stick to my optimism, thanks. I don’t really have a better option.”

Amaranth didn’t really bother to entertain much conversation for the rest of their walk to her place. Olliver seemed content to follow in silence, an uncomfortable pace or two behind her. Night had settled in by the time they reached the front steps of Amaranth’s apartment building. The surrounding streets were draped in the dim glow of the light-polluted city, interrupted only by the intermittent street lights and occasional advertisements casting belligerent gleams across the wet pavement. Amaranth cast one last habitual glance out at the street behind them before she led Olliver inside.

Her apartment was small, tucked in one corner of the third floor. The door jammed the first time she tried to open it. It had been months since she’d reported the issue. Amaranth had given up on getting it fixed. She retried the lock and handle, keeping as much upward pressure on the knob as she could. It was a stupid ritual, but this time the door opened without issue. She ushered Olliver through.

Amaranth shut the door behind her, but waited by the doorway as Olliver got his bearing in her apartment. It was a mess, but she hadn’t exactly been expecting company. Especially not interesting company.

“I like your place.” Olliver grinned.

“Glad to hear it.” The door locked with a click. “So, what do you know about the apocalypse?”

Original posts? On MY good christian sideblog? Uh, yeah. and hopefully more to come. I need to get into the habit of writing consistently, hopefully the dopamine will help.

You can find art relating to this project over at @my-ceiling-is-tilted

#original story #short story #original fiction #science fiction #science fantasy #writing #sci fi

[lumpofwhump]

sound torture for bthb?

Thank you for the request! It's a follow-up to this story (though I'd like to think it stands well enough on its own). And... uh, it sort of got away from me.

Content: Sensory bombardment, captivity, mention of nonconsensual surgery, electric shock torture, forced to watch, forced to participate, mass executions, buried alive.

--

Previous

Byron Hackett's eyes snapped open with a yelp at the sound of gunfire and screams on the other side of the wall. He dove face down onto the floor of the dingy cell, clapping his hands over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. Neither made a difference.

This was hardly the first time since his capture that the young offworld volunteer wondered what had made him think he was cut out to be a soldier.

In his defense, he hadn't expected these so-called "soldiers of humanity" to find his sensory modulation implant. He definitely hadn't expected them to cut it out of him on the spot. If nothing else, his ability to cover his ears at all was an improvement over the last couple days of neurological hell.

The sound still wasn't any easier to tolerate, though.

More gunfire. More screaming. Some of it was his.

And then, finally, silence.

Before he could register that all the noise had stopped, though, the electricity hit his wrists and ankles. He convulsed, smashing his already-damaged glasses against the ground. The pain, along with the shrill ringing in his ears, was so intense that he didn't even realize he was screaming again.

"How selfish can you be?" one of his captors said tauntingly, stepping into his cell as his cries finally faded into whimpers.

Shit, it was her. He didn't remember her name. The sound of her voice, though, was terrifying in a totally different way than the gunshots had been. He trembled, and not just because of the residual electricity coursing through him.

"No, really. Braver people than you are dying out there, but all you're worried about is your little ears hurting a bit," she continued, leaning down to grab his twitching face in her hand and tilt it upward so she could look him directly in the eye. From this distance, neither his bad vision or his tears could prevent him from seeing the smirk on her face.

"P-p-people you... y-you bastards are k-k-killing," Byron sputtered out before he could think better of it.

The woman looked unimpressed and dropped her hand from his face, raising a hand still holding the remote for the cuffs.

He flinched and yelped again, trying to scramble back and away from her as if that would've done anything to protect him from the shocks. "Please no! I, I wasn't, I didn't, didn't mean... p-please...!"

His guard chortled. "I don't really need to, I guess. The shooting will start back up any minute."

Byron didn't relax a bit, but tried at least to bite back a whine of despair. This only earned him another laugh.

"What do I have to do? To, to, to get earplugs, or, or, or headphones, or something?!" he begged. "I-I'd stop if I could, I really would, I promise, but you took my implant... so please..."

The blurry form of the woman tilted her head but let the silence stretch on.

"I'll do anything," Byron finished, already regretting it as he spoke.

"Get up, and let's see," she said, using the cuff controls to yank him to his feet before releasing the button to watch him stagger and catch his balance. "A lot better than yesterday," she conceded. "It'll do. Now come on." She gestured for him to walk out the cell door in front of her. She all but stepped on the back of his heels to keep him moving at anything close to a normal pace.

He kept his feet until the gunfire started up again before stumbling into a wall and sinking to his knees, his hands over his ears again.

...Only to have them yanked down and back behind him. He screamed and struggled, even though that only made the pain in his arms worse.

"If you keep going like this -" his captor shouted during pauses between bursts of gunfire - "we'll just have to take you back to your cell. Or do you think you can be useful?"

He let out a sob but nodded slightly.

While using the cuff controls to keep his wrists in place behind him, she pulled him to his feet and shoved him forward. He struggled to make it to the door without using his arms to balance, leaning against the wall to steady himself. He had the sense that his day would get infinitely worse if he fell with his arms still restrained like this.

But once he stepped out, it got worse anyway. Without even the shoddy compound walls between him and the sound of gunfire, the sound was... at this point, he only wished it could accurately be described as deafening.

He tried to ground himself. What was the thing his therapist had taught him? One thing he could taste. The salt of his tears? No, it couldn't hold his attention.

So then, two things he could smell...

Death. Death and the metallic smell of gunfire. The odor was overwhelming now that he'd made the mistake of focusing on it.

Something else. Switch to something else. Three things he could feel. His arms still hurting, even as they were dropped from the magnetic control of the cuffs. Something being pushed into his shaking hands before he could cover his ears again. Something wet spattering against his jacket.

Another round of gunfire punctuated what was now unending screaming.

What was he seeing? Blood coating shattered lenses.

He wiped it off.

A shovel in his grip. People - xenos, mostly - standing in a ditch, then falling forward. And so much more blood on the mounds of freshly-dug dirt.

Finally, one more shot, one more scream, the last figure collapsed, the killers - conscripts, guerrillas, what did he know - lowered their guns. And even as tears rolled down his cheeks uncontrollably, Byron was just so, so relieved it had stopped.

"Did you hear what I said?" his captor barked from behind him.

"F-fill the graves, right..." he said in a dazed voice, with a shaky nod. He wasn't sure if he'd heard the order, or just pieced it together.

"And don't even think of trying to run," she warned him before pressing him forward toward one of the trenches. "This one should do. Fill it up before sunset and we'll get you something for next time."

Next... time?!

Before he could think about that further, his thoughts were interrupted by a shaking hand sliding out of the ditch to grasp its edge, only to be stomped on by the woman's heavy boot. Its owner gave out a weak cry and slid back down.

He swallowed, feeling sick as he leaned and swayed against the shovel, but nodded. He didn't dare ask about the survivors. For their sake, he told himself. It could be worse, in some way he didn't dare imagine. She'd manage to think of one if he spoke up.

The ringing in his ears was already fading along with her footsteps as she walked away. He didn't think anything could've been worse than the gunfire until he was left with nothing but the pleading and moaning and crying from below. He smothered the victims and their words with dirt, even as he knew that even another sensory modulation implant would never let him stop hearing their voices.

—

World building by me and @soheavyaburden

#bad things happen bingo #sound torture #captive whumpee #sadistic whumper #oc whump #whump writing

[mascwhump]

Chapter 1: Hillside

Well, here it is! First piece of work with these guys that I’m publishing. It’s not great but I’m confident enough to post it. Let me know what you think!

TW: blood, guns, general military stuff

Tag list: @whumpasaurus101

-

Charlie sat on the basement floor, humming along to the music he was playing from his phone. He meticulously loaded bullets into the magazines, completely immersed in the repetitive motions. He finished just in time for Crow to call him up for dinner.

“Pasta again?” Adrian complained.

“Maybe if you had gone into town like I asked, we would have something else to eat,” Crow snapped back.

Charlie took his seat at the table. He filled his plate with the butter covered spaghetti. Ethan slid into the room on his socks, crashing into the back of a chair. Nobody made a comment, as this was normal behavior.

“Where are you at with our gear?” Adrian asked Charlie with mouthful of food. Crow shot him a glare from across the table.

“All set. Just finished loading the mags,” Charlie answered.

After dinner, Charlie helped Ethan wash the dishes. They finished in record time, as getting to bed as soon as possible was a priority. They were leaving at 2 A.M. to meet Deke at the helipad.

The plan consisted of Charlie posted up on a hill, overseeing the ZETA compound with his sniper rifle. Adrian and Crow were to head into the building, download some files from a computer, and get the hell out of there. Ethan was to stay on the helicopter with Deke at the exfil point.

The alarm buzzing at 12:30 made Charlie’s eyes shoot open. He slapped his hand around the nightstand before finding the clock and switching it off. Soon, he was dressed and in the kitchen, cooking eggs from Adrian’s chickens. The others emerged from the basement with their gear, tossing it aside in the hallway when they realized food was on the table.

After eating, Charlie strapped on his vest and mentally went through the checklist to make sure he had all of his gear. After shoving a knife in his boot and a pistol by his hip, he reached for the face paint and slathered it on. Finally, they loaded the gear into the Jeep and headed toward the helipad.

The safe house was deep in the woods, miles from the city. It sat not too far from a lake, where the team would spend R&R time when on standby. The helipad was also secluded, located in a clearing about 3 miles from the safe house. The road they took was hardly maintained; it was incredibly rare to see anyone else on it, especially at the hours they traveled.

Once they arrived, Deke was leaning against his bird, smoking a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Adrian said.

“Want one?” Deke offered.

“Fuck yeah I do,” Adrian replied.

The team loaded themselves, along with their gear, into the helicopter. The blades whirled to life and they put on the headphones that allowed them to communicate with each other. Adrian flicked the cigarette out as they lifted off.

“That’s how forest fires start,” Ethan said flatly.

Adrian shrugged in response.

“Alright, we’ve got about two hours. Let’s go over the plan again,” Crow spoke.

Charlie was awoken by a kick to his boot.

“Five minutes out,” Adrian spoke.

Charlie grabbed his rifle, checking it one last time to make sure it looked good. He went through the checklist once more in his head to be positive that he had everything.

Deke brought the bird down in a clearing two miles from the compound. Charlie, Adrian, and Crow jumped out, switching on their comms.

“We’ll be here,” Deke said.

The team made their way into the forest, heading South. Crow and Adrian swept the area with their rifles, and Charlie followed behind. They weren’t expecting anyone this far from the compound, but you could never be too safe. Finally, they reached the top of the hill, where Charlie was to remain.

“Good luck,” he wished them, patting them both on the back before they went off.

Charlie laid his rifle down in the grass, standing it up on its bipod. He got settled in a prone position before looking through the scope to find Crow and Adrian. Soon, they appeared at the bottom of the hill, carefully making their way toward the building.

“Got you in my scope,” Charlie spoke.

“10-4,” Crow replied.

Two guards stood outside the door they planned to go in. Charlie watched as they took them down silently and dragged their bodies behind a truck. They changed into the uniforms of the enemy before heading back to the building. The door was unlocked.

As Charlie could no longer track his team, he scanned the surrounding area, checking for any guards. The perimeter was clear.

“Found a computer. Downloading data now. This’ll take about 5 minutes,” Adrian relayed in a hushed tone.

“10-4. Building perimeter is clear,” Charlie replied.

A minute passed. Then two. Then three.

Then the alarm sounded.

“Talk to me, Lefty,” Charlie spoke, “what’s going on?”

“They must’ve detected the download. We’re leaving. Is our exit clear?” Crow replied.

“Exit’s clear,” Charlie answered.

He scanned the area around the exit, ready to pick off anybody who would be in the way.

“Fuck, we’re compromised! Go!” Crow yelled.

Suddenly, multiple men appeared outside, pouring out of every door. Charlie began picking them off one by one. The soldiers looked around frantically, trying to find the origin of the shots.

“Flame, get out!” Adrian screamed over the comms, gunfire crackling through the speaker.

“They haven’t seen me yet, keep heading toward the exit!” Charlie replied as he continued to fire.

He was able to pick off a few more before a sharp pain blew through his right shoulder. He dropped the rifle, his hand flying to his shoulder. Pushing himself along the ground, he abandoned his rifle in favor of cover behind a large rock. When he pulled his hand away from his shoulder, he observed the blood soaking his glove.

“I’ve been hit,” he grunted into the comms.

“I told you to go! Right, right! Go right!” Crow yelled in response.

Charlie leaned up against the rock and retrieved the pistol from his holster. He thought about using a tourniquet, but the wound was too far up. Instead, he used his left hand to keep pressure on it, and held the gun in his right. It was incredibly painful to hold up his arm to aim, but he had no choice. He listened carefully to his surroundings.

“Give me a sitrep,” he breathed.

“Trying to find another exit,” Adrian replied, “it’s- ah shite,“

“Scotch? What’s going on?” Charlie yelled, “Scotch? Lefty? Talk to me!”

The radio went quiet. Charlie ears strained; it wasn’t a matter of if he would be found, it was a matter of when. He pressed deeply on the wound, doing anything he could to control the bleeding. The sudden crunching of leaves made him jerk toward the noise. He pointed his gun to the trees, waiting. The sound became closer and more hurried. His finger rested above the trigger, ready to fire.

“Charlie!” Ethan gasped, stumbling out of the trees.

Charlie set down his pistol, relieved to see his friend. Ethan ran over to him and immediately inspected the wound.

“Shit, there’s no exit wound,” he sighed as he took over the job of applying pressure.

“Have you heard from them? My comms are dead,” Charlie asked.

Ethan shook his head. “They went silent. We have to get you back to the helicopter,” he answered.

“No. We can’t go without them,” Charlie protested.

“You’re losing too much blood,” Ethan argued back.

Then, a bullet whizzed past their heads, missing them by just inches.

“Hold your fire!”

A group of about six men approached, guns raised and ready to fire. Charlie rested his hand on his pistol, watching them.

“He wants them alive.”

The color drained from Ethan’s face as the men continued toward them, standing just feet away. Without hesitation, Charlie picked up the gun and fired in their direction, hitting one of the men in the chest. Another soldier lunged forward, pushing Ethan out of the way before wrestling the pistol from Charlie’s hand.

“Please, he’s hurt,” Ethan begged, placing his hands back on the wound.

“We’ll take care good care of your friend,” a solider said, stepping forward.

In one movement, the shoulder of his rifle met the side of Ethan’s head, instantly rendering him unconscious. Charlie sprang to his feet while ripping the knife from his boot. The sharp pain in his shoulder hindered his attack. He jumped at the solider, missing his chance to sink the knife in. He was forced to the ground, and the last thing he saw was a boot coming toward his face.

#holy shit this is scary to post hhh #whump #sorry about formatting idk what I’m doing #title coming soon! #whump writing #lmk other tags I should use pls

[blissfulalchemist]

Chance/Faith - ‘  what  did  you  dream  of?  ’

Hello there once again! I do hope that you enjoy this short piece!

tw for drug use and mention. also for my dumb tongue in cheek jokes.

just under 2k

There’s something to be said about the peace that comes with sitting on the roof of some building. Hell just being up high always had its appeal to Chance, it was the coming down that left him sick. Maybe not the act of falling itself, that also provided some peace, but finding yourself back on the ground. The reality of being present, alive, stopped being fun the moment he had nothing but coming to his knees at the mere thought of them….of all that he had lost. Being grounded was overrated. Being grounded was pain. Being grounded was accepting the truth….something Chance had never been very good at.

To be high, in the sky, drunk enough to no longer keep steady on the ground….that was freedom….happiness. Even if it was set to kill him sooner than people wanted. 

Catching the black smoke rising in the distance he smirks, giving a shake of his head, it’s the fourth one he can spot looking over the border of the Valley and Hebane. The gunfire Chance can just barely make out in the distance has him leaning back letting the sun warm the skin he’s sure is starting to look red rather than sunkissed. He probably should have stuck to the drinking after being arrested, he probably would have gotten another year of life. He definitely wouldn’t be in the middle of some war he never wanted to start or even end if he was being honest. 

He takes a deep breath catching the hints of memories from when he was a teenager dying in the tight black clothing on this same roof in the height of summer. Back then Chance was just starting to experiment with drinking more and smoking weed while he dated some daughter of a successful real estate agent from New York, her hair the same color as Rachel’s. The eyes were a straight blue and her voice was a bit too gruff, she blamed it on always yelling for a taxi in the big city, and she was too self centered. It was only her hair that he liked.

Chance huffs, sitting up as he pulls out the stolen joint letting it find a place between his lips, testing the lighter once before he settles himself more. According to Hurk the joint was filled with some of the best weed in the world and how he saved it before some guy named Jason burned the whole farm down. Of course Jason was someone that Hurk met while out in Malaysia and really Chance should have been there to take down some guy that could almost rival Joesph in the crazy department. The exaggeration of the story Hurk had weaved for Chance still makes him chuckle, even now as he takes a drag letting the smoke sit in his lungs and envelop his tongue for a minute. 

He let’s the smoke circle around him, closing his eyes, the high kicking in almost as fast as the Bliss does. “At least you’re right about it being some of the best,” Chance mumbles, bringing a knee up to rest his arm on while he watches over the activity he can’t really see. He’s about halfway through the joint when he feels someone watching him from below. Chance leans over catching the glimmer of her light brown hair, golden in the afternoon sun, before her blue-green eyes smile at him. “You’re pretty far out for just some casual stroll, don’t you think?” 

He smirks as Faith rolls her eyes playfully, “Could say the same about you, Chance,” she tilts her head, looking to the stairs of crates leading to the roof, “Mind if I join you?”

Chance shrugs, letting out the latest drag, “Long as you can promise Jarhead or Gaston Wannabe aren’t waiting in the treeline to take me in.”

Faith begins the climb up the crates shaking her head, “Now why would I do that?” She smoothes out the skirt of the white lace of her dress, sitting next to him, taking the joint from his fingertips, “I don’t really like sharing you as it is.”

He watches her for a moment, taking in the way her hair shifts from brown to blonde at the whims of the breeze blowing, how her lips curve in a small smile as she inhales the smoke, and her eyes closing for a moment before handing the joint back to him. His heart tugs towards her, the suspicions he’s been having coming to the forefront of his mind. She can’t really be the same girl, there was no way. Tracey didn’t know Rachel like he does….did. Like he did. Seeing Faith like this though….Chance can’t help but see an older version of Rachel from that high school photo when she was a freshman, the last picture anyone had of her. He shakes the thoughts from his head, it was all probably a lingering hallucination from Bliss. Why wouldn’t it be possible for it to show you someone that you really wanted?

“What are you thinking about,” her voice pulls him back to the roof, the smile she wears before laughing, “Anyone home up there?”

He laughs in return, “This stuff really does live up to the hype it was given.”

Faith hums, leaning back on her hands, “So what did it make you think about?”

“The past,” Chance mutters, flicking the ash off, “This place brings back too many memories.”

“What kind of memories?” She asks sweetly.

“Summers up here, people I’ll probably never see again,” he says, balancing the joint between his lips as he searches for his phone, “Nothing special really.”

He lets out an a-ha finding it in his pocket, “Those people you think you’ll never see again,” Faith starts, Chance giving a nod for her to continue as he searches through the playlists, “Can I ask who they are?”

Chance settles on a song by Ghost, letting the music fill the silence while he takes what will be one of the last drags of this joint. He mulls over the answer as the smoke fills his lungs once more, passing the rest of it to Faith. “A girl.” Faith slides her gaze towards him slowly, “One of the few reasons I would have the possibility of being more comfortable with this place.”

“She an old girlfriend?”

“No,” he shook his head, “Just an old pipe dream.”

The silence falls quickly, Chance letting it stay for the length of a song, gripping for something lighter to talk about with her. She lets her head rest on his shoulder, fingers becoming entwined with his, “We’ve heard rumors about you, Chance.”

His heart rate slows after the initial surprise of her touch, his free hand closing over her chilled fingers, “If they’re from Gossip Girl, take it with a grain of salt.”

She laughs, giving a light slap on his chest, “Be nice. John’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’ll keep that in mind next time he’s got me strapped down and a knife to my throat.”

“But seriously though, many of the locals say that this wasn’t your first choice of a career.”

“I don’t think being the pawn in some supposed prophecy is anyone’s first choice in a career.”

“You’d be surprised actually,” Chance arches a brow at her response, “Again though can you let me finish?”

“Don’t I always?” He smirks, ”Thought you said that was my best quality.”

Faith groans, “Chance! Focus,” she takes a deep breath shifting to better lay against him, “What did you dream of being when you were younger?”

“Pfft, you seriously want to know that?” She nods, “Why?”

“Curiosity,” she states.

“Will you tell me yours?”

Faith thinks for a moment, tracing the tattoos on his hands, “Only if you tell me the truth.”

Chance lets out a sigh, keeping his eyes focused on the open space before him, “I wanted to be like Dad,” Rachel would have known that. “Your turn.”

“We didn’t have any dreams,” she giggles, the tone contrasting with the weight of what she’s just said, “What was the point when there wasn’t a chance we’d get anywhere close to them.”

“Something to aspire to,” he offers, “Keep you going. Keep you living.”

“Do you still have that dream? Wanting to be like your father?” Her voice flows almost like a song, drawing him in each time. There’s some resistance from him today as it feels almost inappropriate with their conversation.

“Sure. I was on my way once before,” he shrugs, “Why couldn’t that happen again?”

Her eyes are big, taking in every movement in his face and eyes, there’s a tingle along his skin the longer she stays looking at him like that. It doesn’t feel bad, but it also wasn’t the one he wanted to be feeling with her this close. Finally she blinks slowly, the shadow of her smile persisting as she looks at him now with such care, “Then why haven’t you felt like living in a long time?” 

Chance jerks away, staring her down, heart pounding in his ears, “The fuck is that supposed to mean? I’m not suicidal.” He moves away from her shaking his head, jaw tight, “I just like to have fun. That’s it.”

“No one doubts that, Chance,” she stays in place, not even attempting to reach for him like she’s done before, “There’s just this….emptiness inside of you. We can feel it. Can understand it.”

“So?” She’s finally positioned herself to have the dark evergreens as a backdrop for her face.

“You can be helped and we can do that, Chance,” she urged softly, “You took help once before, what makes taking help from us so different?”

“Hilarious. I’ve given you multiple speeches on why that is.” Why is she being so pushy all of a-, A flicker of light dances just above her hair, much like a firefly and easier to see with the darker colors against her, Of course. He exhales sharply, “I’d remind you once more but,” Stupid. I knew she’d never have been this far out, he thinks, readying himself to leave, “ghosts don’t really remember unless it suits them anyway.”

“Chance wait,” they call out, crawling across the roof once he’s jumped down from it, “Come back. We can talk again. Just you and me.”

“Nice try!” He barks out, eyes cast down as his fingers work to untangle the headphones enough to get him back to the road, “I’m not coming back. Not going to fall for it again.” He finally has the earbuds in place, turning to point at the figment of his desire, “Not today Siren! Not today!” The woods are replaced by the screams of a man who’s fallen for someone he shouldn’t have. Her lips….my poison….How stupid could I be trying to pursue her?, He ground his teeth, nails digging into his palms as he mouthed the lyrics, I can’t even tell when she’s real….Just like they planned her to be. 

That was the worst part of being sucked into the hell hole of Bliss, you saw who and what you wanted and they were always idyllic, making it too tempting to stay. Chance slowed, seeing a field of white coming straight at him. Tracey had said she and Faith were friends once upon a time and maybe they were or maybe, just like with him, the drugs made her think it was her old friend. Someone long dead and gone to her. It just makes her look like how Rachel probably would. Nothing more. The one person that could make Hope County more bearable for him….The one mistake he could have fixed after all this time.

#look I think i'm hilarious at times and sometimes i am but i love my meta jokes #see my love for legends and their meta #also look at me finishing something in a timely manner #lets hope it sticks as I feel my anxiety kick up #also sorry for the time of day I wanted to get this posted before I head off to work for the night #x: emo flower child #a chance for faith #faithxoc #chance ruicknar oc #faith seed #faith seed fc5

[mamabearcatfanfics]

A little Christmas Elf told me there was a delay on @lavendertwilight89‘s IYBC Secret Santa gift, so I decided to write just a little something. She already has the whole fic, but I’ll be releasing it here on tumblr in two parts. Just a little something soft and sweet, partially inspired by something that happened between myself and my husband when we were only just together and still working each other out, and also by one of her chosen prompts. So, without further ado, here’s Part One of Song and Dance Man.

Or read the entire story on AO3

🎵

Inuyasha walked out of his small kitchen, carrying a large mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and a plate of chocolate chip cookies on a tray. He put it down on the coffee table in front of his girlfriend, stooping to drop a kiss on the top of her head, then snorted as she tried to nudge him aside so she could see the show she was currently watching. He didn’t know which one it was – they all seemed to blend into one another, and he did his best to block out the singing. Why was there always singing?

“Another one?” he teased, blocking her view even more. “You mean you haven’t watched every single musical on Netflix already? What’s this one called?”

“Singing in the Rain”, Kagome said testily. “And it doesn’t matter how many times I watch them, they make me feel better”, she said, trying to lean sideways. “C’mon, Inuyasha, move!”

Finally relenting at the pouting face looking up at him, he moved out of the way.

“Alright little storm cloud, you win.”

Kagome huffed at him, and he chuckled at her as he walked over to his desk, and picked up his headphones, grateful that the swelling crescendo of violins would soon be drowned out by the much more soothing sounds of screaming and gunfire from his paused game. He glanced back over to the TV as he sat down in front of his monitor.

“That guy looks constipated”, he commented. “How do you even watch this tripe?”

Kagome turned to glare at him over the back of the sofa, a cushion hugged to her stomach to help keep the hot water bottle in place.

“This is not tripe, and Don isn’t constipated!” she hissed. “He’s feeling! He’s in love with Kathy, but he has to act like he’s in love with Lina on screen”.

“That doesn’t mean he needs to torture me by singing and dancing about it”, Inuyasha muttered. “How are you meant to take any of this seriously, when they suddenly just burst into song about their innermost feelings? It’s utterly ridiculous. I don’t get how you can love musicals so much.”

“Is that what you really think?” she said quietly, the tone of her voice sounding brittle in comparison to the cheerful music playing in the background.

Inuyasha lowered his headphones, ears suddenly twitching with trepidation. He wasn’t always the best at reading a room, but he could definitely feel the tension in this one.

Their relationship was only new, but already Kagome seemed like a permanent fixture in his life. She was bubbly and kind, her tiny frame usually draped in the brightest coloured clothing she could find, and she always seemed to be singing or laughing. She reminded him sometimes of a sweet little canary, his own bright eyed and inquisitive songbird, with her happy go lucky mentality and readiness to try new things. She was everything he wasn’t.

They’d only met by chance, both of them stuck waiting in the Emergency Room at the local hospital, him waiting for his friend Miroku to get patched up after coming off his bike, and her waiting to get her wrist x-rayed after an accident with a set at the theatre where she worked. They’d chatted, or rather Kagome had, and he’d watched her, somehow mesmerised by this tiny human that was unruffled by his obviously hanyou features.

When Sango had appeared to pick up her bruised and scraped boyfriend, he’d decided to stay with Kagome, not liking the idea of leaving her there to wait all alone. Eventually she’d been x-rayed, poked and prodded, with Inuyasha tagging along at her request, finally triumphantly emerging from the hospital with her wrist strapped for a sprain. By then, the idea of her travelling home alone on public transport in the dark was abhorrent to him, so he’d driven her home. Somehow, she’d managed to get his number from him, and added herself into the paltry number of contacts on his phone.

When she’d texted a few days later to invite him out for a drink to say thank you, to his own surprise he’d eagerly accepted, and before he’d known it, they were inseparable. Early morning texts and late night phone conversations progressed to in person talks and late night kisses, until one night instead of accepting his reluctant good night, she’d launched herself at him and asked him to stay and take her to bed.

He’d hardly been able to look Kagome’s flatmate Shiori in the eye the next morning at breakfast, because they hadn’t exactly been discreet with the noise levels, with Kagome delighted to discover that youkai stamina extended to the bedroom. Shiori had teasingly remarked that his second task as Kagome’s boyfriend should be to buy her flatmate some decent earplugs. Kagome had found it hilarious, him, not so much.

Kagome now had two drawers in his dresser for clothes, a makeup bag and toothbrush in his bathroom, and an extra hook on the back of his door for her jacket. She hardly ever slept at her apartment now, only going back to do washing and visit Shiori.

It still shook him that Kagome actually cared for him, showed an interest in what he did. And the sex. They were starting to ease off a little now, but for the first few weeks, they were at it like rabbits, christening every room in his apartment, nearly every flat surface, and even some of the vertical ones. The sex was fucking amazing; she was so passionate, so eager, so utterly beautiful. It was like going from starvation rations to an all you could eat buffet, and he took full advantage of their mutual eagerness to explore each other’s bodies. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.

But their relationship wasn’t just built just on that. They laughed with each other, teased each other, helped each other. He hardly knew the person he was becoming since he’d met Kagome, but the change was…good.

Even though it was early in the relationship, she’d already told him she loved him. At three months, this was the longest time he’d ever been with anyone and even though he was pretty sure he loved her too, he wasn’t quite comfortable saying that to her out loud yet. She understood. At least he’d done his best to try and show her how he felt, and she seemed happy with that. Miroku and Sango loved her too, and she’d slotted into their lives like she’d always been there. He’d never felt so happy.

But right now, the look she was giving him was not a happy one. She seemed almost on the verge of tears. Kagome had warned him early on that she did get emotional just before her period and that some months were worse than others. He’d felt a little embarrassed by her candid remark, never having been in a relationship long enough for that kind of information to be shared. But so far everything had been okay.

Today hadn’t been great though. She had been out of sorts ever since she’d woken up this morning, feeling exhausted, achy and irritable, and he’d done his best to not take anything she said to heart and try and do little things to comfort her, knowing it wasn’t really her talking but her hormones. She’d smelt a little different, even though she wasn’t bleeding yet, but nothing concerning.

But right now, she was beginning to worry him – her heart rate was speeding up and her scent hinted at extreme agitation, similar to a fight or flight response. This was new. Should he remind her that she’d told him she got emotional just before her period and that she needed to calm down? Some deep seated sense of self-preservation made him realise that wasn’t a good idea.  

“Kagome”, he said uncertainly, trying to work out what the safest approach was, not wanting to upset her even more. “Are you okay?”

“What if we’ve been fooling ourselves Inuyasha.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, look at us,” she said, gesturing from Inuyasha’s faded Soundgarden t-shirt and ripped black jeans to her heart patterned leggings and hot pink t-shirt which proudly proclaimed she was Fuelled by Theatre and Coffee. “We couldn’t be more different.”

“But”, spluttered Inuyasha, his heart suddenly beating faster at the dangerous direction the conversation was taking. “Different is good! Yes, we like different things, but that shouldn’t matter!” Kagome’s bottom lip quivered.

“It might not matter tomorrow, or next week, or the week after that, but sooner or later, it would. That’s what you said last night.” Her breathing was picking up now, ragged gasps with a scent of tears.

“What?!”

“You said it’s important to find someone who shares your goals and your interests and fits into your life.”

“Kagome, I was talking about my asshole brother, and how he and Kagura aren’t on the same page about having kids! I wasn’t talking about us!”

“You just said musicals are utterly ridiculous”, she burst out, standing suddenly and letting the cushion and hot water bottle fall to the floor with a sad flop. “And just in case you’ve forgotten Inuyasha, I am a stage manager for a theatre company. Which means by default that you think I’m ridiculous.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by another, and her distress was the only thing stopping him from snarling that the only thing ridiculous was this conversation. This wasn’t like her at all, and he needed to keep calm.

“Hey, hey, c’mon, I never meant that”, said Inuyasha softly as he stood, trying his best to de-escalate the situation. “I know your job is important to you, and just how much you love it.” Kagome continued on as if she hadn’t heard him, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You’ve never once shown an interest in anything that I’ve done at work. Never come to any of the shows I’ve been involved in”, she sniffed, and Inuyasha’s heart sank, made heavy with sudden guilt.

That was true. Kagome had listened to him rant about his work as a software test analyst, had shown interest in the games he played when he relaxed, had even made a WOW character and tried going on a raid with him when it was clearly not her thing. But she’d thrown herself into it, just like everything else she did, laughing at herself when she made mistakes, just happy to spend time with him sharing something he loved. He hadn’t done anything like that for her, hadn’t even noticed. That needed to change.

Kagome began gathering her things in a haphazard fashion, stuffing them in her backpack.

“Baby, don’t”, he said, trying to reach out to hug her. “Don’t leave when you’re upset. I promise we’re going to be better – I’m going to get better. I’m still learning how to be good at this. Please?”

She dodged his outstretched arms. “Don’t baby me”, she hissed, her tone venomous. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even trying to get to know me. Do you even care at all? Or are you just in this for the sex?”

Inuyasha looked stricken. “Kagome…” His arms dropped to his sides.

Her eyes widened at his broken expression, her hands shaking as she reached tentatively towards him, then pulled herself back.

“I... I can’t do this right now”, she sobbed, pushing herself away. “I’m going home!”

And then the door slammed, and Inuyasha was left standing in the middle of his apartment, the untouched plate of cookies, cooling hot chocolate and water bottle the only evidence that Kagome had been there.

A man danced happily on his TV in the background, splashing around in rain puddles like it was the best thing ever. He plonked himself down on his sofa and picked up the cushion that Kagome had been hugging only moments before, burying his nose in it.

“What the fuck?” he whispered into the pillow. “What the actual fuck?!”

He didn’t know how serious this was, but it felt bad. She’d only been gone for seconds and already his life felt emptier. He felt sick, like he was going to vomit. He needed to fix it and fast. Because there was no way that he was going to lose Kagome over something like this.

Part Two

#mamabearcat fanfics #inukag fanfic #song and dance man #inukag #IYBCSS #IYBC SecretSanta 2020

[benreys-realm]

Chapter: 7 Jail Break Gone Wrong

This was far from how Gordon expected to bust Benry out of Black Mesa. Possibly smuggling him out, sure. Something SAFER AND LESS LIFE THREATENING, but definitely not this. Much to Gordon’s utter horror, Tommy and Barney took a literal SNATCH AND DASH tactic, both seeming to just stare at Gordon oddly each time he mentioned what a horrid idea this truly was. But, he sure was learning a lot today.

First thing, neither Tommy nor Barney are even human. Nope, Tommy, oh his yeah he had his suspicions, but BARNEY?! This was not exactly expected. Just seemed to jolly and cheery, and while Gordon was busy clutching Benry close to his chest hiding behind some very large metal storage crates while both Tommy and Barney went full on assault on the guards and military. From what he could hear, not even heavy duty guns could put a dent in Barney.

Tommy, seemed to have some sort of magic or powers that he couldn’t explain keeping him safe. Meanwhile, Benry was busy snoring away in Gordon’s arms with some very heavy duty noise cancelling headphones on. Apparently, Benry sleeps like a baby whenever Gordon holds him, and this was no exception. Literally, napping through a massive ass battle with bombs, gunfire, and all sorts of bullshit happening. Unbelievably, typical. Was he SERIOUSLY the only human within this group?

After things seemed to go quiet, only the sounds of Barney’s heavy breathing and Tommy’s exhausted sigh gave the signal the fight must’ve been over, for now. They’ve been making horribly slow progress, and Gordon was sure he was only slowing them down... Benry would’ve been fine on his own, with them. They would’ve been out by now... A slight jump from Gordon as Barney leans in around the metal crate, looking human again. Except, for the teeth... and the eyes.... those were a bit unnerving.

Very large and sharp jagged canines pokes gently from under his scruffy lips, and 4 new eyes, each set above and below his once gorgeous mixed brown green and some speckles of blue eyes, now fully pitch back with no pupils. Like a spider... Gordon thought nervously. With a slight grunt, Barney’s other eyes vanished and blinking several times, his brown green juman eyes returned. After that he looked faintly dizzy, and leaned against the crate which actually shifted an inch just by him leaning against it.

“Hhhhhgh..... Ugh sorry Gord’n.... ooof. Been in that human form for so damn long I forgot how taxing it is on my old body and joints... sorry we didn’t tell ya sooner, this wasn’t in the plans at all, needing to get Benry out immediately.... we, weren’t sure how you’d react. Figured seein’ how well you took to Benry... you’d be... accepting of us...” Barney stammers a bit, clear hesitation in his voice.

For a moment, Gordon felt taken aback. They truly felt guilty? About not telling him..? That is fully understandable of why THEY shouldn’t be sorry, that’s a huge thing to tell someone, or how they might be treated... was he freaked out? Undeniably so. Was he going to run screaming and cry in a tight little ball? No, not till he got home or something... Worst part was he can’t tell his therapist about this shit, and the fact he just lost all coverage FOR his therapist. Dammit.

With a shaky breath, Gordon locks eyes with Barney and smiles softly. From what he could tell, Barney seemed skeptical, but returned the smile.

“It’s okay, Barney. I understand why, you wouldn’t be comfortable sharing that. It’s just, a bit to take in, the.... fighting is definitely unexpected.... but with Benry and you guys now I should be okay... as long as we all get out alive that’s all that matters, right? For Benry?” Gordon says, that spark of determination glowing brightly in his vibrant green eyes.

That comment completely seemed to shake Barney, who stared, wide eyes and blinked many times. That look on his face was the shock of what looked like a 5 year old who just got their candy taken away from them. After several long stunned moments, a soft weary but genuine smile crept across Barney’s face. With one slow motion, his hand ran through his thick jet black hair, showing some of the greying bits hidden deep within those gorgeous black locks. There was a stiff silence before Barney locked eyes with Gordon with a soft smile and a bright gleam in his eyes. 

“I’mma beginnin’ ta see what Benry admires and adores about ya, Gord’n... You’re a very special and unique person, Mr. Freeman....” Barney says, that bright gleam not faiding. The comment caught Gordon off guard, whose face went bright red. The only thing that prevented Barney from letting out a booming hearty laugh was an extremely cute yawn from Benry, who began to knead Gordon’s sleeve with his small paws. The motion got a soft awe out of Barney, while Gordon just smiled and gently used his right hand to run his hand through Benry’s soft black fur. That motion got a lot of purring, and some tail wagging, and Benry proceeded to attempt to bury himself deeper into Gordon’s clothes and chest. 

With a soft sigh, Gordon gently readjusts his glasses before looking around. If he was honest, he doesn’t remember how the hell he got where he was... Mostly, he thought the sheer stress of the situaion of breaking out an alien from space from a massive underground government facility and being hunted by the guard, military, and possibly whatever the hell G-Man was was not exactly a peaceful expierence. The thought of that alone made Gordon;s head feel fuzzy, and he felt a firm and warm hand gently set on his shoulder. Barney was right besides him and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Hey, easy Gord’n, Tommy says you’ve been running on sheer adreniline and you’ve been having some sorta blackouts... Just, take it easy alright? Tommy mention’d this might be due to stress, or G-Man... BUT I’mma just keep moving you two from spot to spot till we get out, alright? Won’t let anything happen to ya, promise...” Barney says, with that soft smile. It took a lot of energy to keep his eyes open, which he returned the smile before quickly dozing off, right along with Benry.

With a faint sigh, Barney casts a weary glance at Tommy, whose eyes and hands were glowing faintly, and a soft yellow glow enveloped both Benry and Gordon, before fading softly. With a sigh, Tommy glanced at Barney, who slowly looked away.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal to do to them but, this is better than them seeing what has been going on and seeing us as monsters, not to mention the stress and trauma it would cause both Gordon AND Benry...” Tommy says slowly, his face weary and tired. There was a long stretch of silence, before Barney spoke up. 

“Is... This truly necessay, though...?” Barney asks, before glancing hesitantly over his shoulder at the building of Black Mesa, which they were in a small Black Mesa warehouse, which had been promptly removed of all guards and people. After a pause, Tommy nods.

There was a deep and loud sigh from Barney, who gently slips his hands under Gordon’s back and knees, carefully carrying him and Benry who clung tightly to his chest. With a soft grunt, Barney trots behind one of the large metal shipping crates, and waits. Necessary, he says. If that were true, he wasn’t sure. Either this was for all of their safety, Tommy’s revenge, or something along those lines, or all of that, Barney wasn’t sure he’d ever find out. 

Curiously, Barney peeks around the corner, keeping Gordon and Benry safely tucked behind the crate as Tommy asked. Tommy knew he was gonna peek, he wanted to see what this kid was capable of. For a brief moment, everything seemed to pause. Barney’s hair stood on edge as he felt a strange charge of energy, all seeming to focus on Tommy. Like before, that same yellow aura seemed to surround Tommy’s body, the brightest glow coming from his hands and eyes. With a loud yell, there was a bright flash that surrounded the facility of Black Mesa, before the entire place seemed to BURST in a massive explosion.

The shockwave of the blast actually damaged the building they were in,and Barney seemed to have lost hearing temporarily in both of his ears... Loud bangs and booms of dangerous and unknown machines and power sources in Black Mesa seemed to react with whatever Tommy had done, and Barney rushed forward to Tommy whose feet had once again returned to the ground. 

Without warning, Tommy quickly went limp, but thankfully to Barney’s lightening reflexes, caught him before he could topple onto the concrete floor and hurt himself. In mute horror, Barney just held him in his arms, his shallow breaths all that could be heard. Cleary, he exhausted him self to the breaking point. With a displeased grunt, Barney mumbles to himself and gently sets Tommy down on the floor, and brings Gordon and Benry close by, mosty waiting for Tommy to rest.

This, had been a very rough and long day, so many lives lost, how much blood was now on all their hands... The thought made Barney shiver, as he stares out at the now burning bones of what was once the great facilty of Black Mesa. As Tommy promised, they were the only four surviors. Everyone else, was gone. They had a chance now, to live freely, to be happy.

With a faint sigh, Barney scooped Tommy up in his arms, along with Gordon and Benry in the other, and slowly began trudging forward out of the shattered and demolished bits of Black Mesa, hoping that somehow they’d find a safe haven that they all could call home.

#benry #hlvrai fanfic #hlvrai au #hlvrai frenrey #gordon hlvrai #hlvrai benry #benry benry benry #half life vr but the ai is self aware #half life #half life benrey #hlvrai benrey #benrey #hlvrai tommy #hlvrai gordon #tommy coolatta #hl barney calhoun #hl barney #barney calhoun #benry x gordon #gordon freeman #hlvrai gordos feetman #hlvrai gordon freeman #black mesa #g man is not a happy camper ohhh nooo he’s not #G man will be back don’t ya worry he’s fine

[aliceaddellheidde]

Fatum

A/N: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Lucky in love. March 1 – Advantage

WORDS: 1601

WARNINGS: violence, swearing

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x reader (eventually) {Soulmates AU}

DISCLAIMERS: Endgame happened, but only Thanos and his peasants died. English isn´t my first language so sorry for mistakes. 

Moi, Rai and Parca are genderless and are using they/their pronouns. I hope I'm using it correctly. Don't want to insult anybody.

This is soulmates au. When you get tattoo, your soulmate gets it as well on same spot. It glows when you two touch. 

This is multi-chapter story. 1/19

Gif from here

Divider by @rainbowkisses31

Moi and Rai were best at their job. They were taking care of human being´s souls. Making sure everyone will meet their soulmates sooner or later. You see, it´s not easy work. Especially when you have younger sibling. Parca were exact opposite of his relatives. While Moi were warm, dressed in brown-red-orange-yellow clothing and Rai, cold in purple-blue-green-pink attire, Parca were like a shadow. Black-white-grey-silver outfit matching their neutral, mischievous personality. As the youngest, Parca were causing a lot of problems, making eternity harder for Moi and Rai.

„Hear, hear my dear fellow immortal!” Parca were dancing around big hall where Rai were checking on their broken souls, looking for suitable candidate for today. „What do you want Parca?” „Oh, don’t be grumpy. I have news for you and our precious Moi.” „They are next door. You know we have counting at this hour. Don’t you have as well?” „All done. But there is something our boss want you and Moi to do. As priority.” „I'm sure it can wait.” „Um-mm, nope.” Parca grin as Rai frown. Then bright light appears and with that Moi too. „What's so urgent?” Parca gave them gloving rolled up parchment. When Rai open it, Moi gasp. „Finally! He was bugging me since 1937!” „There is one problem tho dear Moi. Look.” They read written words loud. „James Buchanan Barnes and Y/N Y//L/N. Shite.” „Moi, language!” „Details. Now lets work. Those two will be a tough nut.”

And since that day their plan set in motion.

You absolutely hated Bucky Barnes. Why? Because he was annoying little shit, always thinking he's better than you in everything. It was partly true, but he doesn’t need to know, right?

You just came to kitchen for breakfast when wall of muscles stopped you. „Look where you going dipshit!” Bucky smirked at you. „Someone woke up in bad mood?” he teased. „Shut up.” you hissed and opened upper cabinet only to find it empty of your favourite cereals. „Borky! Where is my food?” You turned around, but he was gone. With sight you took cereals from Wanda´s shelf. She will forgive you.

Morning shower was very relaxing. You almost forgot about Bucky. Until loud alarm went off and you dropped your shampoo as you jumped. „Damn it Rogers.” you cursed, quickly dried yourself and ran into your room for clothes when bucket full of glitters fell on you, leaving you startled. You couldn’t take another shower and had to change before Steve would come looking for you. Shaking glitters from yourself, best as you could, you put t-shirt and shorts on and hurried to meeting room. Everyone else was there.

„What happened to you?” Sam asked. Bucky was visibly holding back from laughing. „I had fight with my hobby cabinet. What do you think happened? This motherfucker prepared trap on me!” you sassed and gave Bucky middle finger. „That's enough! Y/N, sit down. We have emergency mission. Source said there is hidden Hydra facility in Atlanta. We don’t have building plans, but source said there are weapons and maybe a lab as well. Our tactic is go in, capture those peasants and destroy it.” Tony lifted his hand. „Yes Tony?” „Maybe we can take some guns for studies. And lab tech. You know, to better understand our enemies what are they doing.” Steve sighted. „Fine Tony. You can have one or two of their weapons. Banner and Dr. Cho will have lab stuff. Sam, Bucky, Y/N - suit up. Departure in 15 minutes.” You were leaving when Steve stopped you and Bucky. „Buck you have something to say to Y/N?” „Sorry.” he rolled his eyes. „Help her vacuum the floor. Quickly. And don’t try anything during mission. Both of you. Understood?” „Yes.” you said at the same time. „Great. Dismiss.”  

„Ok, Mr. And Mrs. Grumpy. We´ll fly for an hour. Try not to kill each other.” Sam said from pilot seat. You took out your book and started reading. It was quiet for few minutes. Then you heard loud chewing and bubble bursting. Bucky smirked at you when you looked at him. You went back to your book and tried to ignore him. That worked for 10 minutes. „For fuck sake! Stop it!” you shouted. „What is it now?” Sam was tired of your fights. „He's chewing like an animal!” „Oh c'mon Buck. You can´t stop it for one flight?” „I´ll try.” Sam went back to cockpit and you put headphones on. To yours and Sam misfortune Bucky had yet another idea how to make you unhappy. His music was much louder than yours and his beaming smile was enough for you to throw your patience out of window. „Sam! I´m  gonna to pilot and you sit here with this idiot.” If it meant to stop your fighting and have nice flight, Sam did it with no problem. Parca were pleased with themselves, little smug smile on face. They had so much fun. Rai and Moi were shaking their heads in cockpit.

„Why you have to do all those things to her Buck?” his friend asked. „It´s fun! She's like small child when she's angry. All red and death stares in one minute and second later she bakes chocolate cake for whole team.” „We all know you love her cake. But you really should try to restrict your pranks. I don’t want her to leave because of it.” „Nah, she's tough.” „As your captain I have to insist.” „Damn Bird brain, when did you turn into such strict man?” „On this mission. Wanna play cards?” „Sure.”

„We will land in five minutes. I sent Redwing already. He shot guards on the roof. There are 30 subjects in, garage full of cars and weapons.” „No lab?” „Maybe underground. Think Y/N, geez.” „Stop that. We have work to do.” With that Sam walked out. „After you.” Bucky mockingly bowed. „I hate you.” you said and followed your captain.

You prepared your gun and ran next to the wall, Bucky right behind. You looked from around the corner. „There is big concrete field. We have to run across it.” „That's stupid idea. They will see us right away.” „Then come up with better plan Mr. I-know-everything.” „I will. Let me think.” „Don’t hurt yourself.” „If you would shut up, you would know you have to find other way. There are mines under that concrete.” Sam said into our comms. „You almost got us killed! Are you brainless?” Bucky looked at you with disappointment. „I didn’t know there are mines!” He was silent, only moved his head for me to follow him. „Sam, is roof still clear?” „Yop.” „Can you get us there?” Metal wire appeared next to you and you took it. „Hold tight Y/N.” You knew what will come, but it was still weird how small thing like Redwing could lift you and fly. „Amateur.” Bucky scoffed and jumped on the roof with ease. „Show off.” you sneered when you landed next to him. „At least I have something to show.” Suddenly you felt small sting in shoulder. „Ouch, what the fuck? Were we drugged or what?” „No. Only little electric shock because you are not doing your work. Move your asses.” „Yes Cap.”

You ran across roof, then jumped on main building and hopped down on the ground. „Should we knock?” „Don’t be funny. I found you way in. There are back door on your right.” You moved there. „Stay behind me.” Bucky said and opened the door. You walked in and right away gunfire started. Bucky was effective as shield while you both tried to defence yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, there were Parca sitting on the car, laughing. Moi and Rai were there too. And thanks to their intervention you disarm almost all men inside the garage. Those who tried to run fell into Sam's trap. Moi moved destroyed cars and dead bodies for you to see secret door to laboratory.

You opened it and had to move from flying glowing ball. „Bucky, look out!” you screamed but it was too late. It hit him and his eyes rolled up as he fell down. Parca were very happy with their work. Moi and Rai not at all. You shot few guards and captured lab doctors. „Sam! Get Bucky out.” „Working on it.” You walked back into garage and found Bucky on the floor, panting. „You all right?” „Yeah.” „Take them. I´m going to check other buildings.” He nodded and even when he was shaking a bit doctors looked afraid of him.

„All clear. Gonna prepare some boxes for you Sam.” It took around 30 minutes and once you were done and safe in quinjet he blew up the facility. You turned to Bucky. „How are you feeling?” „Like I got hit by lighting ball.” „Ha, ha. Now for real.” „Fine. But my arm isn't working how it should.” „Let me see.” You started carefully repairing it and he was watching you all the time. Moi and Rai smiled at each other. Then Parca moved your hand wrong direction and Bucky yelped in pain. „Sorry! I´m so sorry!” „It´s ok. At least touch sensor is working.” You laughed in relief and continued your work.

„Good job. Were there any problems?” Steve asked when you landed. „Just Bucky´s hand. He went to medical bay already. Y/N took amazing advantage of situation and secured laboratory and all buildings” „Good. We will sort things out from here. You go and rest. See you tomorrow.”

You said your farewell to Sam and closed door of your personal paradise called your room.

#HBC Lucky In Love #the ss horniest book club #bucky barnes #soulmate au bucky barnes

[goose-books]

whoa, it sure is about time around here for a post, huh!

today i offer you 1.7k words about cressida and rory simply being soft. that’s all. this is the happiest thing i’ve ever written in the darkling canon and making this moodboard reminded me that it’s because these two are the only kind and friendly people in the entire book.

more details about cressida and rory’s home WIP, darkling, can be found here! (short version: it’s a speculative fiction king lear; there’s magic but it’s weird about being magic; half the characters are gay trans and neurodivergent because i said so.) this takes place about a year before the story starts; the two of them have just turned sixteen and seventeen, respectively!

also, i wrote all of this while listening to “kentucky” by hippo campus on repeat. the lyrics aren’t quite as relevant as the vibe. if you catch me yearning on main mind your own business /j

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

Beside them, Cressida is soaked, long golden hair and long white dress dripping. Rory rocks up onto their toes and back down, anxiety worming along the back of their neck like an itchy coat. This was not the plan. The plan was not “get caught in the rain and run through a storm for two blocks.” The plan was for the two of them to go walk by the river and - who knows, talk about Joan of Arc or the Kennedy assassination or something. Swap special interests. Maybe swap spit. Probably not, though. It’s not a date. It’s not not a date - but, like, Rory still does work for Cressida’s dad, so who knows how awkward things could get. Plus Cressida’s hard to read. She doesn’t really make facial expressions, and that’s usually fine, because Rory can’t really read facial expressions so it’s about the same to them, but in this particular situation -

“I trust you,” Cressida says, squeezing their hand, “but where are we going?”

The rain’s left Rory’s glasses fogged up enough to render them effectively blind. They take their glasses off and squint at the elevator buttons. They are still effectively blind.

“Is that a five or a six?” they say, pointing.

Cressida peers over their shoulder. “Which one do you want?”

“Five.”

Cressida presses the five button with her free hand. The elevator, which is about the size of a broom closet, jerks into unsteady, fitful motion.

The thing is that the apartment building is kind of - well, not a dump. It’s not horrible. There aren’t cockroaches. But Cressida lives in a manor, literally. Stayer Manor. Capital S, capital M. And there was never any sort of plan for today, even in the wildest of circumstances, that involved Rory bringing the city’s golden girl to a building the size of a shoebox. But then it was raining, and Cressida kept saying she didn’t mind the rain despite clearly minding because if she ruins her dress her dad will go rabid-dog on her, and Rory’s cognitive wheels were spinning like they were powered by a well-greased hamster, and none of the restaurants close enough to duck into were appropriate places for them to safely freak out about the thunder, and their apartment was only two blocks away.

So.

Here they are.

“Sorry,” Cressida says. “Where are we going?”

Rory attempts to dry their glasses on their soaked-through sweater, to little avail. “We are going,” they announce, “to a world of pure imagination.”

Outside, thunder cracks the sky. They know Cressida sees them flinch, because she squeezes their hand again.

The apartment is 505. Cressida waits as Rory digs around in their jacket pocket, shuffling past loose coins and two pairs of headphones and four melted Starbursts and way too many scraps of paper until they finally unearth their key. Their lock sticks - their lock always sticks - so once they’ve turned it, they have to drop Cressida’s hand and plant one wet Doc Marten on the wall and yank. The door swings open.

“Voila,” Rory says, performing jazz hands. “Willy Wonka wants what I have.”

Their apartment is purple. Not startlingly purple. Gently purple. Purple like it creeps up on you. Purple like you don’t realize exactly how purple it is until you realize everything - walls, gauzy flower-patterned curtains, plushy armchair, compass-rose-shaped clock, old-fashioned record player on the table - is the same shade of soft lavender.

There is at least one nail sticking up out of the hard-wood floor. Rory snags a sock on it every time they dance around with their headphones in.

Two people have been inside since Rory started renting the place a year ago. And that’s them and the landlord. This is their place, their safe haven, their nook, and it’s the size of Cressida’s bathroom, and rich pretty Cressida Stayer is standing, dripping, in the threshold.

“Don’t touch anything,” Rory says. Cressida draws her hands in like the walls might electrocute her. “That was a joke. You can touch things.”

“This is your apartment,” Cressida says.

“Indeed.”

“You live here.”

“That succeeds the first!” They give her an encouraging smile. “Subsequent statements! How cogently lucid of you!”

Cressida looks down. The hem of her dress is dripping onto the floor. “I don’t suppose you have a vent I could sit on…?”

“In fact I do!” Rory directs her, aircraft-marshall-style, to the heating vent on the floor. They’re jittering. They’re using way too much arm movement. They can’t get their heart to stop skidding around, because normally! They do not! Let people in here!

They stand and drip. Cressida sits and drips. She gazes around, and Rory gazes with her, trying to see it through her eyes.

“Where’s your bed?” she says.

Rory skips over to the closet and pulls the door open, with the grand gestures of a magician presenting a trick. The inside of the tiny closet is lined with a thick downy comforter; there are sheets and pillows scattered around atop it, and there are glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up all over the walls and ceiling.

Cressida gazes at it. “On purpose, right? Not because -”

“On purpose. Yes. I could have bought a bed. I just think it’s cozy.” Oh, Rory is going to lose it right here. Their foot is tapping the floor at about a million miles an hour. Granted, being in their apartment helps the overstimulation a little - just being where it’s safe and everything’s always the same and they control their space. That always helps. But it’s not like they can just curl up in their closet with their headphones in and the door shut, because Cressida is here -

Cressida, for her part, looks a little impressed.

“It’s nice,” she says, wrapping her arms around her knees. “You just live here? By yourself?”

Rory shrugs. “I’m emancipated,” they say, which isn’t strictly true, but they work for the most powerful man in the city, who has their back if anyone actually looks into their files, so it’s as true as it really needs to be - and then thunder roars outside again and Rory skitters sideways and falls over their armchair.

“Oh! Oh my God -” Cressida jumps to her feet.

Rory scrambles up from where they’ve tumbled to the floor. “Sorry sorry sorry!” they say, except really they yell it because they have their shaking hands over their ears. “Sorrysorrysorry, I - I really don’t like loud - I d-don’t -”

“Can I -” All of a sudden Cressida’s in front of them. Rory doesn’t move away, just stands there, chest heaving, and Cressida slides her still-damp hands very gently up both of their arms, and she very gently pulls their hands off their ears.

The thunder, again. Like a cannon blast. This time Rory yelps a little. Cressida pulls them in close to her and sits both of them down on the vent, which, at the very least, is warm and also on the floor, so Rory can’t really trip over anything when they flinch.

“You don’t like loud,” Cressida repeats. She’s a good deal taller than they are - Rory’s exactly five-foot in their Docs - and so it makes logical sense for her to settle down with her chin on their head, probably.

“I don’t. I don’t. I really don’t.” They’ve started fluttering their hands a little; their voice is getting that shaky tilt it gets when they’re in sensory overload. “Fun story, back in high school we went on a field trip to this play where they used gunfire blanks for sound effects and I had a full-on crying-and-screaming public meltdown. I like to tell fun stories from high school like it wasn’t actual purgatory, because I cope through humor!”

“I know,” Cressida says simply, and she wraps her arms around them so they can lean back into her chest. The next thunder crash comes, and she tightens her grip. “Is this helping?”

“Yeah. Uh-huh. A lot. Like a weighted blanket.” Rory tilts their head back to give her a shaky upside-down grin.

They don’t like making eye contact, so they don’t, but they are aware that Cressida’s gaze is resting pretty solidly on their face, which is - fine, and normal behavior for friends, and the fact that they’re cuddling on a vent and they can feel her heart beating against their spine is, like, normal also, probably -

“Rory,” Cressida says tentatively, “can I…”

Rory tilts their head. “Can you what?”

Cressida hesitates; then she leans in. It is a very very gentle kiss, almost hesitant; she pulls away after a second or so, to find Rory staring at her dumbfounded.

“Whoa,” they say, face assembling itself into what they’re fully aware is a stupid doofy grin. “Whoa. Hi. Hey. I - yeah! You can do that!”

They both cling to each other’s hands for a second; they both let out a breath that is, Rory thinks, equal parts relief and euphoria.

Then Rory leans in and kisses Cressida again, and this time neither of them pull away, and when the thunder crashes overhead Rory thinks they’ve never felt safer than they do right now.

#max.txt #darkling tag #lorelai flowers #cressida stayer #fun fact about this: i wrote it for my school creative writing class and we had to do peer feedback circles #and of the three people who gave me feedback only ONE of them got rory's pronouns right #while the other two played choose your own adventure i suppose? #(i'm not; like; pissed off i just think it's funny.... cis people let me study you /j) #max actually writes

[thistangledbrain]

Deliberately lumping 17 & 18 together this time, because 17 isn’t that big of an entry.

Day 17 - “Accommodations”

So from a *personal* standpoint, I need few or no accommodations, as I’ve learned to make my own & have my own coping skills - when you spend most of your life not even knowing you’re autistic, you’re less likely to ask for something to help you with “your weird hangups”.

But younger auties often DO need accommodations- like being allowed to wear headphones/muffs in school, having a quieter testing environment, smaller classes, and so on. And obviously, the more you struggle with certain aspects (like loud noises or crowds), the more accommodations you’ll need.

I admit I don’t have much experience with the kids who truly need the total SPED environments. *Most* (definitely not all) kids I’ve known have all been capable to a degree of adapting to a NT environment. It’s *exhausting*, but possible *most of the time*. So since I’m a child of “suck it UP!”, I’m unfamiliar with this outside of simple accommodations I asked for, for my youngest, when he was in his earlier HS years - like headphones being allowed, and letting him keep his cell phone on him so he could quietly text with me if he was having a rough day & we could walk through it together. As he’s progressed through high school, he’s needed these accommodations less and less. I’ve noticed as my boys have edged through puberty, they leave more and more of their younger struggles behind them.

Your results may vary, of course.

———————————————

Day 18 - “Someday”

Hm. Boy, that’s ambiguous. Maybe I’ll take this one on from a couple different angles.

Someday I hope NTs understand autism better. Someday I hope each autistic person can be judged on their OWN PERSONAL strengths and weaknesses, like NTs are, instead of lumping us all together and deciding we can or can’t do something, based on the fact we’re autistic. For example, I know *plenty* of autistic musicians who play in bands ranging from death metal & punk rock, to smooth jazz. “But I thought autistic people couldn’t handle loud sounds!!”, you exclaim. Yeah, and some of us can. Also, not all loud sounds are created equal. Or sounds in general. A good example for me is, I occasionally jump and let out a little scream when the toast pops up 🙄, but I don’t flinch at the sound of gunfire - because I love to target shoot (I do not hunt), and it’s something I’m really good at, so I enjoy it thoroughly. (I’m not going to get started on America’s gun violence problem because it enrages me. I can rant about that allllll day & already deleted two paragraphs doing just that. This was just a convenient example.)

I’ve been thinking about this a LOT lately, actually. We have our own hurdles, without NTs adding to them, anyway. But I think about “what if I knew I was autistic, before I joined the Marines? Would I still have been as determined?” YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT...BUT I would have hit a brick wall, because they wouldn’t have let me (if I was honest about it, anyway - I’m telling you right now, if every applicant was 100% honest about their background, almost NO ONE would be accepted). So what happened? Well - I was a damned good Marine, that’s what happened - because I didn’t let *anybody* tell me I couldn’t do something. And as I mentioned before...for certain types of auties, the military is actually a pretty fucking brilliant, comfortable environment that we literally thrive in. Again - we are all different. So this “someday” one is BIG for me. Someday I hope we are judged individually on our merits, someday I hope we are looked at through the lens of what we CAN do, versus what *someone else* thinks we cannot do. I have YET to meet an Autie who doesn’t go “OH YEAH?!” when we’re told we “can’t” do something because of our autism. (We might not always succeed, granted, but we really hate being told we “can’t” do something, based on what YOU think we can and cannot do.)

Someday I hope autism is actually celebrated, instead of thinking it’s some sort of scourge. I hope to see that happen in my lifetime.

Someday I also hope that people (the doctors and psych folks and whatever) realize there’s actually a *considerable* difference between male and female autistics - which is why females are so often diagnosed late in life, because we “don’t fit the profile”. I also hope they realize that some females are more like males, and some males more like females, as far as the expression of our ASD. In other words - back to HOW ABOUT YOU EVALUATE US INDIVIDUALLY, FFS. I hear all this shit about how “autism is a spectrum”, and it just seems like lip service - if you KNOW it’s a spectrum, then why are you still trying to pigeonhole us into the DSM-5 definition or whatever, and operating inside generic parameters?? Auties are the most complex human beings you will ever meet in your life - and I stand FIRMLY by that - so your attempts to shoehorn us into your basic understanding of it is frustrating as FUCK. Infuriating, even. No wonder we fight you so bad when you try it. How would YOU like it if we decided that every middle class blonde woman is a “Karen”, and treated you as such? Or if we decided everyone with brown eyes are slow and we should treat all of you brown eyed people the same, like infants? You’d be like, “what the FUCK?” Yeah. It’s a lot like that.

Someday, I hope more therapists understand the autistic brain better, so they can be more helpful. Sometimes the same advice you’d give a NT patient struggling with an issue (let’s say, the death of a loved one or executive function) just won’t ...WORK...for an Autie. As it stands now, most therapists I’ve known go straight to ABA, and that gets frustrating when you just need to let it all out so you can re-center and actually have a discussion. Speaking of ABA, someday I hope teachers and doctors and therapists understand the resentment and feelings of being “wrong” or “bad” that result from ABA. SOME of it is necessary I think, but mostly, all it does is teach repression & lets us know loud and clear that the way we are is “wrong”. I desperately hope ABA is reevaluated - with the input from ACTUAL AUTISTICS. Using ABA for to overcome a problem like, say, potty training or something, is often seriously necessary. But potty training isn’t part of *who we are*, if that makes sense. Most ABA is basically like putting your Autie kid in a dog training bootcamp, with little to no thought about “what makes that kid tick”. It’s all about training you to act in a way that NTs find acceptable (and I have lots and lots of cuss words about that........) I don’t even train DOGS like some schools or therapists train auties. Dogs aren’t beings to dominate, control, and condition to act in ways I find pleasing (but I’m also not a “general trainer”...I’m on the behavior side of things). They’re sentient beings who deserve to have their personalities discovered, their traumas and their hangups, and THEN we work inside THAT dog’s parameters until we’re solid...*then* we start working on pushing them outside of comfort zones and such. AFTER that trust and understanding has been laid down as a solid foundation, for *that specific dog*, regardless of my experience with past dogs (though I do rely heavily on past experiences of course; knowledge of what did and didn’t work with some other dog similar to the one I have now - that sort of thing - but every dog is a whole new being to me...because, well, they actually *are*). Nothing is “cookie cutter”. Every dog is a brand new exploration. I understand that’s putting a lot of pressure on SPED teachers. I understand they’re baffled when I tell them ABA sucks as a because they see “positive results”. Sure - you see positive results in your ability to repress that child. Positive results in the fact that they’ve now learned to hide themselves from you and others. It seems the current ABA methods don’t necessarily teach any sort of useful skills for actually adapting to the flow of the NT world for that kid - just how to repress who they are, so they fit in. In other words - ABA is successful for the NT world - not us. It actually depresses the shit out of me to think about how teachers and counselors view the rocking and flapping kid they’ve now trained to sit quietly in class feels like their work is successful. You didn’t help that kid - you BROKE them, you broke their spirit, you broke who they are. That makes me so angry. Same when these so called “star trainers” can force or intimidate any dog to performative good behavior. Same as the difference between how native Americans train their horses versus how Anglo Saxons or others did/do. In the native culture, we call it “gentling”. In AS culture *it is LITERALLY called “breaking”*. I’m not kidding - look it up.)

As for my personal “someday”....

Someday I’ll write a book about my adventures & struggles in life and what it was like inside my brain through each one. It’s not that I think I’m anything special, but I’ve been asked to do this, and the reasons were pretty logical. And I do love to write, usually. Or maybe it’ll be a book about how my autism is a HUGE advantage in “my line of work” (the dog thing...being sort of more of a dog/human “guidance counselor” than a trainer - since I hear your voice and feelings, and I also hear your dog’s, I’m less of a trainer and more of a bridge between the two. An interpreter, but also almost like a marriage counselor too LOL). I think that’s my biggest “someday” and the only one worth mentioning, because it’s such a huge goal...most of my other personal “someday” stuff, I eventually kinda go “well fucking why not TODAY, bish?!” and I just...DO it.

But generally, someday I hope it’s understood that no two autistic people are alike - but we share enough commonality that it’s possible to understand we’re basically in a different category of people from “normal”. Someday I hope NTs in general drop their stereotypes and get to know us one on one. Someday I hope people realize and understand that even nonverbals are whole ass human beings, with thoughts and dreams and opinions and a whole complex personality that you missed, because you were too busy judging the fact they can’t speak like you do.

Someday I hope you realize we *enhance* the human experience, we don’t detract from it. Someday I hope you realize we are not BROKEN, we are just different. Someday I wish you’ll stop being so smug and stuck up in your “normally functioning brain”, and stop PITYING us. For fucking what??? Experiencing life in a much more complex and deep way?? Bruh. We pity YOU, too. Your world perception often seems dull and wasteful. Limited. OPEN UP - there’s a whole universe out there that you haven’t even explored. So, someday I hope we can enhance each other’s human experience, like my friends and I do. I’d love to see that on a larger scale.

Someday.

#asd #autism #autistic #acceptance #awareness #actuallyautistic

[gxngsoflondon]

As The World Caves In - Part 2/? (Sean Wallace x Reader)

 Part 1 /// My Masterlist!! 

Part 2: What A Wonderful World

You’re still in the car. It’s been a long drive home from the Wallaces.

“There’s been an accident on the major road, I’m taking a different route,” the driver says.

Your father nods.

You huff loudly, patience is a skill you’re still honing. Tommy slips a pair of headphones over your head and presses play on his phone. You wriggle in your seat so you can rest your head on your mother's lap. She plays with your hair.

I see trees of green, red roses too...

A new song begins and the car starts to slow down, turning into an old industrial estate. Both Anderson parents are distracted, looking at their phones, but Tommy stares out of the window confused.

I see them bloom, for me and you...

The car jerks. It stops abruptly. Causing everybody but you to look up. They look at the driver, who’s hands are no longer on the steering wheel. It is not someone they recognise. They haven’t seen him before.

And I think to myself…

It happens too quickly. Your father doesn’t have time to react.

Because there’s a gun against his head.

And then the driver shoots him dead.

What a wonderful world...

There’s a bullet in the driver’s head before he can take another breath. Your mother is shaking, fingers still on the trigger. Tommy has turned grey, eyes brimming with tears. But you are hysterical, thrashing and screaming your Daddy’s name over and over. Your mother throws her hand over your mouth

Another car pulls into the estate.

I see skies of blue, and clouds of white,

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world...

“Okay, stay in the car, stay down, don’t let them see you!”

Your mother is sobbing but she’s seen the three men making their way towards your car

“Mum-” Tommy says, but she’s shaking her head.

You are hyperventilating. Your mother pushes you both down behind the seat. You cling to Tommy for dear life.

“Stay in the car and keep her safe”

She reaches into the front, tears streaming down her face when she looks at her husband. She must be strong. She is checking your father for a gun, but he’s unarmned. She takes the driver's gun instead and gives it to Tommy. Then she kisses your forehead.

“I love you both very much”

The colours of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky,

Are also on the faces of people going by...

Your mother steps out of the car. There is gunfire.

A lot of gun fire.

“Tommy, Tommy what's happening? Tommy please, Tommy, make it stop!”

He hugs you tighter, pushing your face into his chest but says nothing. He turns your music up, so you can’t hear anything but it, and he is shaking.

Your mother’s bullets find one of the three men and they fall to the ground. You burrow your face into Tommy’s shirt, choking down sobs and trying your best to keep quiet. Tommy cranes his neck so he can see out of the window and then immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Because he watches his mother get shot.

I see friends hold hands,

Sayin’ how do you do ...

And that’s how you find yourself sitting all alone in the footwell. Tommy is up and out of the car in a heartbeat. He has to protect his baby sister, he will not let you die.

Your mother is still alive, bleeding out, but alive, and Tommy heads straight for her, shooting another of the men in the process.

They are dressed in all black. They are wearing masks that cover their faces.

There is only one left now.

And he sends a bullet through your mother’s skull.

They’re really saying

I love you ...

Tommy looks down at his mother, tears streaming from his face.

And then he joins her.

Crumpled. Crying. Dying.

His mouth is opening and shutting like a gaping goldfish. No sound will come out.

The last remaining assassin stalks over to him, taps him with his foot to check if he’s alive and then puts a final bullet through his brain.

I see babies crying, I watch them grow

They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know ...

You are still crying, but you are crying silently. Everything is silent except for your music. The song is almost over.

The car door opens and you can feel someone rustling in the front seat.

You are a smart girl.

You know this isn’t an Anderson.

So you know that Tommy and your mother must be dead.

You take off your headphones.

“Yes...yes they’re all dead...took two of my men…”

He pulls down his mask to speak into a phone. He has a thick ginger beard. He looks at the dead driver.

“And the drivers a goner too...yes..boy looked about 18...right well I’m heading back now”

He sees you. You see him. You both stare at each other.

He reloads his gun and looks away for a brief second.

“Erm we’ve got a problem boss, there’s a little girl. You didn’t tell me about a little girl. What do you want me to do about i-”

Then I think to myself...

The bearded man never gets to finish his senetence.

“Check your pockets before you leave” “She’s going through a ‘borrowing without permission’ phase”

Finn Wallace hadn’t checked his pockets.

That’s why you’re standing with his gun.

Your small five year old hands are gripped tightly around the trigger.

There are blood splatters on your dress.

The bearded man is dead.

The headphones are no longer covering your ears, but the song is playing so loudly you can still hear it while you crouch in a pool of blood. The song is coming to an end.

Yes, I think to myself,

What a wonderful world.

///

A/N: More parts are coming guys so let me know what you think! I promise there will be a helluva lot more Sean. Got some juicy parts to come;)

Part 3!!

#sean wallace #sean wallace imagine #sean wallace x reader #sean wallace fic #gangs of london #gangs of london imagine #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic #joe cole #joe cole imagine

[anon911andbuddie]

I was wondering if you were going to do a 4th of July fic?

I wrote this last year on my AO3 but here you go! Link to the OG 

Hope you like it and stay safe this year!

Protect the PRUPPETS and CATS!

-Wolva 🐺

Christopher had loved fireworks, always has since he was a little boy. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was because of the bright colors or the patterns, but Christopher always loved going down to the beach and watching the city throw the annual fireworks party. Christopher had always spent it with his abuela and tia because of his dad. While Christopher was still too young to understand why his daddy didn’t like the 4th of July, he still had fun. And this year it will be more fun because he has Denny and their new baby sister with May and Harry with him this year. And this year he gets to spend the night with Hen's family.

Eddie had been pacing back and forth for the last hour, he didn’t know why he was he was so on edge. While he knew that Hen and Karen were perfectly capable of taking care of Christopher as they had done before, he didn’t want to overwhelm them with his kid and their kids, but Hen insisted.

Buck came over about 30 minutes after Eddie dropped off Christopher at Hen’s house, saying they’ll make their way down to the pier later. Eddie had instantly relaxed when he heard the jingle of keys in the door. He stood up from the couch and greeted his boyfriend in an excited kiss.

“Buck...” Eddie had started and wasn’t sure how to start the sentence, but Buck only sighed and smiled sadly. He took Eddie’s hand and led him to his bed.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight with everything going on. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you”

“You won’t, I know you won’t. Here, maybe these will help.” Buck pulls out some industrial headphones that are used on the tarmac at airports. Buck leans in and kisses Eddie gently as he slides the headphones over his ears. Buck then gestures for Eddie to lie down with Buck.

He falls into a quiet sleep.

{~}{~}

He feels hot.

The heat is beating down at him.

Not the kind of heat of the spring hot or temperature hot, but the kind of heat that makes you want to scream, beat, and cry because it’s too hot to do anything else but lie there as the unforgiving Earth takes you. He looks around and he can see explosions and gunfire going off in all different directions. He knows where he is.

He’s in war.

He looks around as his comrades are taking down the unseen enemies with ease. He sees one of his brothers extend his hand and helps Eddie up from the ground of where he went down. He surveys the scene and sees that the guy who helped him is no longer there.

He hears a distance call of his name and feels a hand on his arm. He turns around and sees the faceless enemy. Eddie’s reflexes react instantly. He doesn’t know how it happened, but one minute the faceless enemy is looking at him, but then he has the figure on the ground, one hand on his neck, squeezing and the other hand holding a knife to his throat. A deep part of him satisfied with the small trickle of blood slowly seeping down the throat. Eddie leans closer, intending to look into the eyes of the enemy, but is thrown off when he feels something cover his lips.

Why is he being kissed? 

And why is his faced being cradled? Eddie blinked back in surprise and when he opens his eyes, he sees the blue eyes he’s grown to love. But the blue eyes aren’t filled with love, passion, or that playful twinkle that he loves so much.

The eyes held fear

It was then that Eddie had realized three truths at the same time.

One: he was in his kitchen in a half-kneeling position on the floor.

Two: he had a kitchen knife in his left hand pointed at Buck.

Three: He had his right hand wrapped around Buck’s neck.

Buck swallowed and took a chance. He brought his struggling hands to Eddie’s face.

“I-it’s ok Ed-die. Please, j-just let go” Buck said in a raspy voice. When Eddie realized what he had been doing he instantly dropped the knife to the floor and jumped back in horror. Buck scrambled from the floor to his knees and began to cough uncontrollably.

This isn’t happening...ah dios Mio what have I done?

Once Buck seems to pull himself together for a moment, he looks up at Eddie with pain in his eyes. Buck slowly begins to crawl towards Eddie, who had pressed himself into the wall, hoping it will swallow him up, but it doesn’t.

And now he had to deal with what he did

Eddie curls into himself in order not to look at the person he hurt.

“Eddie? Are you ok?” Buck asked kneeling in front of Eddie but being unsure if he should touch him in this state. When he didn’t respond. “Eddie please look at me” Eddie shook his head back and forth. Buck only sighed and took a seat next to Eddie on the floor. Buck longed to comfort the man who was a shaking mess next to him, but he wasn’t sure if he should touch him in this state.

It’s what got them here in the first place

“Eddie...it’s ok,” Buck said after what seemed like moments of silence.

“Evan...god I hurt you...look at you I-” Eddie gets cut off when he looks at Buck for the first time. He froze at the sight of blood pouring out of Buck’s neck. Buck meanwhile hadn’t noticed, too caught up in caring for Eddie.

“Oh god...oh god Evan I cut you,” Eddie says in horror as he hesitantly brings his hand to Buck’s neck, but yanks his hand back the second it connects with the skin. Eddie’s mind flashes back to a mere moment ago when he had the same hand around him. Buck places his hand over the cut to cover it up, but the blood seeps through his fingers.

“Eddie it’s ok. You’d never hurt me on purpose”

“Y-you need to get it checked out, you’re on blood thinners Ev. Oh, god-wha-”

“Eddie you need to relax, you’re hyperventilating. Take a breath for me sweetheart” Buck says as he holds his hands out to Eddie in a relaxing manner. Buck slowly takes a step towards Eddie.

“Ev stop, no stay away from me,” Eddie says as he takes steps back and locks himself in their bathroom. He hears Buck on the other side,

“Eddie please open the door” Eddie doesn’t respond, he only yells at Buck to go away and to leave the house before something bad truly happens. On the other side, Buck nods and slides against the door.

“Eddie, I’ll wait out here for you, all night if I have to, but I am not leaving this house. I love you” Buck doesn’t expect a reply back, but he does feel tired. He feels really tired.

“Eddie...please help me”

{~}{~}

Eddie locks the bathroom door behind him and he slides down the door with his back against it. He tries and tries to get his breathing under control. He can’t bear to look at Buck right now, he can’t hurt him again.

God, he thought he had it under control.

He had never done this to anyone before. Not Shannon, not Christopher and he hoped and prayed it wouldn't happen to Buck, but it did and now he’s ruined everything. He hears Buck on the other side of the door and he tells him to go away and leave. Eddie doesn’t want him to leave, but can’t bear the thought of him hurting Buck again. He hears Buck tell him that he’s just on the other side of the door and he won’t leave and he’s about to tell him to go away again before he hears Buck ask for help. Eddie then sprang up from the floor and ripped the door open.

Buck was on his knees, hunched over and holding the cut on his neck. Eddie knelt in front of Buck and placed his hand on his face to lift him. Buck looked up and Eddie noted that he was pale.

“Fuck...Buck come here” Eddie gently grabbed Buck’s two arms and lifted him. He led him to sit on the edge of the bed. Eddie went back into the bathroom to bring out a first aid kit from under the sink. Eddie is about to begin cleaning Buck’s wound but stops himself. How can he be the one helping him when he was then one that put him in the situation in the first place? Eddie’s hands begin to shake when he feels a hand cover his own. He looks up and sees Buck smiling at him. Buck guides Eddie’s hand to his neck and leaves it there.

“I trust you, Eddie,” Buck says and Eddie damn near loses it. Tears rush down Eddie’s face as he begins to tenderly clean the wound.

“Why? After everything that just happened...how can you trust me?” Eddie asks as he seals the cut and puts a band-aid over it. Eddie looks down and sees Buck’s shirt covered in a steady stream of blood. Buck hands slowly cradle Eddie's face, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“Because I love you” Buck’s response brought Eddie up short.

“But I hurt you...god I was choking you and I almost cut you...I did cut you I-” Eddie’s mantra got cut off when he felt Buck’s hand intertwine with his own.

“I’m ok Eddie, I’m here I’m fine”

“But what if you aren’t? You lost blood Evan and you’re still on blood thinners. And what if you aren’t ok next time? I almost killed you...” Eddie breaks into full-body sobs at this point. Buck only leans closer to Eddie, indicating that he’s there for him.

“Come on Eddie, let's try to get you back to sleep.”

“I-I can’t sleep. I’m scared of hurting you and I’m still on edge.” Buck nods in understanding. He gets up from the bed and begins to take off his shirt. Eddie looks up in confusion and is even more when Buck leaves to the bathroom and comes back a little bit later. Buck leans down to take Eddie’s hands and leads him to the bathroom.

{~}{~}

“Breathe Eddie...just breathe deeply for me,” Buck says reassuringly as he helps Eddie slid into the tub full of hot water. Eddie hisses as the temperature warms and slightly reddens his skin. Once he is seated in the water, Buck gently takes Eddie into his arms as he slides back against the wall. As the water splashed and moves around them, Eddie is still tense in Buck’s arms.

“Try to relax for me Ed”

“I can’t...I don’t want to hurt you again”

“Sh it’s ok-” Buck’s sentence is broken but Eddie’s sobs.

“N-nothing about t-this is ok Evan. God I’m so s-sorry"

“There’s nothing to be sorry about sweetheart. If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry, I made the mistake of touching you when you were in that state and-” Buck is cut off when Eddie shoots up and kisses Buck firmly on the lips. He pulls back and looks at Buck in his eyes

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, this absolutely isn’t your fault Evan. Dios Mio please don’t blame yourself” Buck brings his hands to Eddie’s face to wipe his tears.

“If it isn’t my fault then it isn’t yours” Buck carefully runs his wet hands and fingers through Eddie’s hair. Eddie lets out a few silent tears and tucks himself into Buck’s side and cried. Buck simply holds him tighter and buries his face in Eddie’s hair. Buck rubs Eddie’s back in small circles.

“I’m so sorry” Eddie mumbles as he pulls back. His eyes drift down to Buck’s neck that now has a forming ring of bruises mixed with purple, blue, and little bit of red. Eddie leans in and begins to gently kiss Buck’s neck, saying he’s sorry every chance he can. Buck simply lets Eddie work.

“Are you ready to go back to sleep now sweetheart?” Buck asks as he feels the water beginning to get chilly. Eddie opens his eyes and looks up from where his head is laying against Buck’s chest and nods yes. His heartbeat being able to calm him down.

{~}{~}

Buck had dried and dressed Eddie into a loose t-shirt. Buck had slipped under the covers while Eddie was rummaging through the drawer in the nightstand. He got under the covers and squeezed some gel onto his hands and began lovingly rubbing some aloe vera infused cream on Buck’s neck. He hisses slightly at the burning sensation and Eddie smiles sadly as he kisses Buck’s cheek. The cream had been put away and Eddie hesitated to go under the covers with Buck.

“Eds come here. I love you, I trust you, nothing in the world can change that” Buck says as he grabs Eddie’s biceps and pulls him down next to him. Eddie inserts himself between Buck’s arms and can feel Buck’s heartbeat against his forehead. Buck can feel that Eddie is still a little tense, so he begins to play with Eddie’s damp hair. He loves it when it’s damp and it isn’t styled with his normal gel because it’s flat but still a little curly. Eddie wants to relax into Buck but he slides his arms in between Buck and himself.

“I don’t deserve this Buck, not after what I did”

“You had no control over tonight, and it’s ok to lose a little bit of control sometimes”

“Not when it hurts the love of my life”

“...I’m the love of your life?” Buck asks smiling stupidly and Eddie grins sadly as he slides up to meet Buck's eyes.

“I’m serious mi amor, I hurt you so badly today...and I want to promise it won’t happen again but-” Buck smiles sadly at this statement, he simply brushes Eddie’s hair back and tucks it behind his ears.

“I know, but maybe we can get you some help so you can deal with this properly”

“I’ll try Evan, for you I’ll try,” Eddie says in a whisper as he pulls Buck closer to him, taking comfort in the mixture of pine and home that is Buck.

“I’ll spend forever trying to make this up to you”

“I don’t need forever, I just need tonight. I need you to try to sleep, we can figure this out in the morning when you aren’t looking like death” Eddie kisses Buck on the lips as he sighs sadly.

“I love you, Eddie,” Buck says as he drifts off to sleep.

“I love you too Evan,” Eddie says as he follows him.

#prompt fill #wolva answers #by wolva #evan buckley #Eddie Diaz #ptsd #buddie #angst #happy ending #4th of july

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 14)

A loud crashing, like broken glass, pulls Mila back to the present. Like a bull who’s seen red she looks around, only to see Juri standing in the bedroom window. He wears the foam headphones over his ears, holds his walkman in one hand and points downwards with the other. Mila’s eyes are drawn to the broken vodka bottle, scattered across the street. Well, and the Wolf, bolting towards her like a lunatic. 

Mila puts her finger on the trigger just as the man raises a big army knife at her. Being high on adrenaline, Mila reacts faster. The bullet digs itself into the “W” in his sweaty forehead, and he lunges backwards, as if he’s being hit with a wrecking ball in the solar plexus.

“Juri!” Mila calls towards the boy in the bedroom window and lowers the rifle to the ground. “Get back inside!” 

Her small rescuer in distress gives her a thumbs up over the windowsill and makes the sign for ‘you're welcome’, before disappearing inside again. 

Mila takes one last look at the unconscious, bloody man at her feet, then the millions of pieces of what once was a bottle of Russian standard, sighs and starts running down the street. There’s no time to mourn spilled vodka. 

Over the Safe-Zone a loud truck-horn is heard. That can’t be good. On her run, Mila quickly realizes that the situation is somewhat chaotic. Numerous Wolves have entered Alexandria; all of them with the letter “W” carved into their heads. Mercilessly they kill any Alexandrian’s they come across with knives, axes- 

In the distance Mila catches sight of Carol, clenching a bloody knife in her hand and a gun in the other while scurrying down the street towards her. The kind woman’s eyes are vigilant, ready for battle.

“We have to get people off the streets.” Carol calls. 

“Where's the kids?” Mila shouts to Carol. “Carl and Judith?”

“On their way to the house, with Judith!” Carol calls back.

A Wolf approaches them. Mila lifts her rifle and pulls the trigger. The man stumbles down on his knees and lands, nose first, on the pavement. Blood runs down his head into a puddle around him. 

“They're gonna look for guns.” Mila says and rubs the sore, pulsating bandage.  

“I’ll go check the armory.” Carol replies. 

“Yeah. I'll check the main gate.”

Just like when she ran the New York Marathon before the outbreak, Mila sets off toward the gate at a fast pace, tall spine and eyes ahead. She calls on every Alexandria resident she runs past to get inside the houses and barricade the doors. In the distance, she sees Deanna’s son Spencer up in the watchtower, focused on mowing down- oh fuck! 

Mila brakes as she sees a couple of walkers, climbing out of a truck that’s been driven straight through the fence of the Safe-Zone. Its horn blares loud and clearly over the area. 

”Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mila sputters, like a broken record.

“Shut the horn off!” Spencer shouts at her. “Door’s blocked, I can’t get out.”

Before she gets the chance, Morgan rushes past her, towards the truck and the walkers and Mila is approached by two Wolves, a man and a woman equipped with what looks like homemade swords, who decide to attack her. Two against one feels unfair. She’s also visibly damaged, with the bandages and the bruised skin peeking out of it, that shifts in blue, purple, green and yellow. But they don't seem to care. Mila starts swinging the rifle at them like a baseball player trying to hit a ball. In the corner of her eye she sees Maggie and Deanna scurry past her and Spencer getting out of the tower, heading towards the truck. 

May Rick and the others be back soon, she thinks. Where the hell are they? Has something happened? She fends off the Wolves and starts running towards the houses, leaving Morgan in control of the situation at the main gate. She must make sure no one has entered the house where Carl, Judith and Juri are hiding. But she doesn’t reach the street, or the house. Commotion and gunfire is heard from the main gate, where she was just minutes ago. Have the Wolves got hold of firearms at last? Mila simply has to run back. 

She passes Rosita and Aaron on her way back, in the process of warding off two Wolves. At a distance Mila sees Morgan, inside a circle created by a group of Wolves. He circulates the circle with the staff in a tight grip. His steps are vigilant, his dark eyes are sharp. Mila has seen him handle that staff, knows he’s lethal, if it hadn’t been for his stupid philosophy that ‘All life is precious’. And Mila’s had it with philosophy. She marches towards the circle. 

“Mila-”

Morgan doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Mila fires the first shot and a Wolf, standing with its back against her, drops in the ground. It’s like the starting signal for a sprint race. Two Wolves against her and the other three attacks Morgan, who goes full blown ‘karate kid’ on them. One thing is certain; Mila prefers Rambo. Without blinking, she kills the two men on the spot; bam-bam, done! She reloads and looks up. That's when she sees him. The bastard who sliced her with a machete in the forest, with a fire axe in his hand, that he swings over his head towards Morgan. 

One thing is certain; a fire axe beats a wooden stick. Mila once again lunges the rifle through the air (why waste ammunition) and hits the stock in the back of the head of the man. He wobbles and turns around, right when Mila points the rifle at him and-

“Fucking hell!”

The young man roars in pain as the kneecap explodes by Mila’s bullet. He falls to the ground, screaming in agony. 

“Mila, no-” Morgan starts to protest.

“Oh shut up!”

Mila walks up to the screaming man, kicks him in the side so he rolls over on his back, in a puddle of blood. With the muzzle aimed at his forehead, towards the bulky “W”, Mila puts her boot against his neck and puts some weight on it. He starts to cough. If he thinks Mila’s done with him, he’s wrong. By this time, she has embraced crazy.

“Do you remember me?”

The man doesn't answer, just gasps and looks at her with eyes filled with disgust. 

“Mila, this isn’t the way-”

“Morgan, I swear to whatever god you believe in-” Mila snaps and meets her friend's gaze. “I got this.” 

In the distance, Carol, Rosita and Aaron approaches the scene. Mila turns her attention back to the man on the ground. She looks at his knee. The fabric in his pants is completely shattered, as is his kneecap. Blood pulsates from the wound. Without breaking their eye contact, Mila squats next to the young man, still holding him down by his neck with her boot, whereupon she digs her index finger into the bleeding bullet hole. It is difficult to decide which one sounded the loudest; the truck horn or his scream of pain. Mila chokes his scream by putting her entire weight on his neck. His cry ceases and she removes her finger.

“Yeah. Hurts, doesn’t it?” she says calmly and nods at her wrapped abdomen. “I know. Almost as one wants to die, right? But luckily for you, I haven’t been drinking in days, so I’m kinda’ clear. ‘cause you see, when I’m drunk and angry, I’m fucking crazy. However, unluckily for you, I haven’t been drinking in days, which means I’m in a terrible mood. You also tried to kill me and I didn’t like that.” Mila shocks her head at him and grins. She puts her index finger back over the bullet hole. ”Wish you killed me properly now, don’t you?”

#daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl dixon #Jersey on my mind #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #The Walking Dead fanficition #The walking dead fanfic #fanfiction #twd fanfiction #fanfic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fandom

[missmalice202]

Designing Your Melody: Chapter 06 - Cherry

Chapter 01 - Chapter 05

“DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!” Marinette screamed into her headset as she tapped the buttons on her controller as fast as her fingers would let her.

“Dang, girl. Leave some for the rest of us.” Alya’s chuckle filtered though her headphones over the sound of gunfire. Her orange mecha that had been built for speed and precision performed a deadly dance as she picked off the few stragglers that Ladybug’s mecha had left behind. “You’re out for blood tonight, aren’t ya? Tough week?”

‘Tough’ didn’t begin to cover how frenzied the last week had been for Marinette. After hemming and embroidering and sewing THOUSANDS OF FREAKING SEQUINS, Jagged Stone’s new ensemble was finally finished. Why she had agreed to undertake such a herculean task at the last minute, she had no idea. Well, that’s not entirely true. She knew exactly why she accepted the job: she loved Jagged Stone and she loved a challenge.

Still, the fact that she was stressed out and sleep deprived remained. However, she was still too jittery from the numerous cups of coffee she’d sucked down over the past few days to go to sleep yet, so she figured she’d meet up with her clanmates and play for a little while until she finally came down from her caffeine high.

“Rena, I haven’t slept in 36 hours, I’ve stabbed myself a dozens of times sewing on all those stupid sequins that I thought would be such a good idea to add to his design, and I’ve had enough coffee over the past week that Papa could probably use my blood to make some of his famous tiramisu, so even though I’m freaking exhausted, there’s no way I can fall asleep just yet. I need something to relax me, so here I am..”

“Seriously, dude,” Nino added, “When you told us what you were doing, I thought you’d finally fallen off the deep end. I mean, you’ve got to be crazy to try to design and sew a photoshoot ready outfit for one of the biggest rock and roll stars in the world in just a week!” His avatar, a bright green design with black goggles covering the cockpit, threw up a translucent energy shield over his clanmates that glowed with an ethereal green light, easily blocking the incoming attack of an enemy captain.

“Hey!” Marinette yelled at her friend as she rushed toward the mini-boss, swords flashing as her cherry red mecha closed the distance and she engaged with the enemy. “You make it sound like you didn’t think I could do it.”

“It’s not that, my lady,” soothed Adrien, aka Chat Noir. “We all had faith that you’d get the job done purrfectly.” His onyx mecha landed next to Ladybug, his staff whirling, performing a perfectly choreographed combo attack with his partner in battle. “Fur real, we were just concerned that purrhaps you had kitten off more than you could chew and ended up burning yourself out.”

She closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. She could literally hear how smug Chat Noir was through her headphones. “For the sake of what little sanity I have left after this week, please don’t start with the cat puns, Chat.”

“Why, I’m feline a little offended here, bugaboo,” he teased. “I’m just saying that there’s no one else who clawed pull what you did off.”

“That last one was a bit of a stretch, kitty.” She should just ignore him, she knew that. You’d think she would have learned by now that when she responded to his bad jokes and ridiculous puns, he layed it on even thicker, just to annoy her. “Seriously though, I didn’t have much of a choice! You should have seen what the stylist wanted Jagged to wear. It was just,” she shuddered just thinking about it, “terrible.”

Rena asked, “How bad? Come on, girl, gimme some details!”

“Ugh, it makes me sick just thinking about it. Imagine Jagged Stone, wearing a powder blue, see-through lace romper..” Her three friends howled with laughter at the mental image she conjured, so she continued to describe the nightmare she had seen in full detail. “Just picture it: THE Jagged Stone, clad in skintight lace booty shorts, white fishnet stockings, and silver glitter loafers. They wanted to stuff him into a silver speedo underneath that ridiculous romper. That’s all! Nothing but a silver speedo and translucent baby blue lace!” she snorted with laughter as she remembered how utterly uncomfortable the poor singer had been when he showed her what the record label wanted him to wear for his promotional photo shoot. “Oh my god, it was awful! I wish I could unsee that sight, but it’s now burned into my memory to haunt me until the day I die. I couldn’t very well say no to his pleading after I saw that abomination.”

“Ladybug,” Chat Noir tried to calm down enough to talk, but he was obviously having a hard time since he had let his guard down and had been killed in the battle. He used his respawn time to finally compose himself enough to continue. “As a life long Jagged Stone fan, you have my eternal gratitude for sparing the public from that visual crime against humanity.” He dissolved into another fit of giggles, causing a chain reaction among their friends once again and distracting them from the battle currently underway.

“I know.” Marinette took a deep breath. “And here I thought that they couldn’t possibly come up with a worse marketing strategy after that whole “perfume ad album cover” debacle. Yeah, I was wrong. This was much, MUCH worse,” she scoffed.

They all laughed hysterically for a few more minutes before they were able to calm themselves enough to carry on their conversation.

“By the way, milady, are you going to be participating in Fashion Week next month?” Chat asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’ve finally garnered enough of a reputation as a legitimate designer for my collection to be allowed to participate in the newcomer designer showcase on the last day. I’ve got my collection finalized, so all I need to do is sit down at my machine and make the pieces.” Her fingers flew over the buttons of her controller, sowing a path of destruction in her avatar’s wake onscreen as a new wave of enemies arrived to back up their leader. “Now that I’m done with the Jagged Stone’s request, I’ve got the time to work on my showcase designs.” With a final flourish, she and Chat Noir defeated the enemy captain, leaving Rena Rouge and Carapace to deal with the reinforcements.

The gathered the mission rewards and traveled back to their base.

“Hey, Ladybug,” Rena began, “have you selected the models you’d like to walk in your show? I’m sure Kitty Noir over here would be more than happy to help you out if you need.”

While Alya understood that Adrien and Marinette would probably only be “just good friends”, once a shipper, always a shipper. Over the years, she still created opportunities for her two friends to be alone together in the hopes that something would spark between them and her OTP ship could set sail. Was it wrong to ship your friends? She didn’t think so. Nino disapproved of her antics at times, but she just couldn’t help it. She wanted her friends to be happy and in her mind, they were made for each other.

Marinette had tried convincing her friend that she was more than happy with the relationship she had with the handsome, blond model. She was more at ease with him now and he could be himself around her, even if that did include his utterly atrocious sense of humor. Seriously, the guy’s obsession with puns was borderline unhealthy.

“I’d love to wear your designs again, My Lady,” he purred.

“Won’t you be busy walking in your father’s show?”

“The Agreste show is on the first day. I’ll have plenty of free time after that. All you’ll have to do is get me some of your dad’s famous macaroons as payment.”

She was ecstatic. Having a famous model like Adrien Agreste would bring people flocking to her show, even if it was to see him, not her designs. But since he’d be the one wearing her clothes, it’d be like killing two birds with one stone. “You have a deal!” she squealed.

His chuckle echoed in her ears. “Honestly, I’m getting the better end of the deal. Don’t underestimate the power your family’s bakery has.”

“Awesome,” Alya cheered. “You’ve got your male model. Do you need a female model too or have you found one already?”

“Actually, I texted Juleka Couffaine and asked her if she’d be interested and she said that she’d do it,” she said. “I haven’t really spoken to her since high school since we kind of lost touch with each other, but I’ve seen some of the ads she’s sone and I think she’d be a good fit for the theme of my collection. She’s out of the country at the moment on a job, but she should be back sometime next week, so until then I can get started on what you’ll be wearing, Kitty.”

“Sounds good, Bugga-boo. I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with. Your designs are always so pawsome. I can’t wait to wear them for you on the catwalk.”

She shook her head once more at his antics. “I’ll give you the last one, since that’s a legitimate pun.” Alya and Nino’s laughter rang in her ears as they laughed at their friends’ banter.

“You know, we were wondering if you’d be online tonight, Ladybug, since you’ve been MIA all week.” Alya said. “The others were asking about you since they hadn’t heard from you, but I told them you’d be on when you were done with your work.” There was a brief silence before she teased, “Viperion was especially worried about you. He said how you guys had done some grinding the other night wondered where you had disappeared to since you’re usually on every night..”

The idea of Viperion worrying about her caused warmth to blossom in her chest. To be honest, she had missed the calming effect his presence had on her. “Speaking of which, where is he? Did he say he was going to be playing tonight?”

Nino told her that he had spoken to him earlier in the day and that he would probably be on much later, if at all because he would be working late on a project that he had to completely redo.

A little disappointed that she wouldn’t get to play with her online friend, Marinette decided to call it a night and logged out, finally ready to get some much needed sleep.

 Chapter 07

*Sorry for the delay on posting. This chapter is just kind of a transition chapter, so unfortunately, not much is going on, but I really wanted cat puns and mental images of hard rockers in blue lace rompers hahaha. Next chapter will pick up and our sweet boi will get some screen time. I might even stop torturing him and throw him a bone ;D Until next time, Lovelies XOXO*

#lukanette #lukanette february #mlvalentines2k20 #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #lukanette fic #ml fanfic