casey ann

9

We’ve always defined ourselves by the ability to overcome the impossible. And we count these moments. These moments when we dare to aim higher, to break barriers, to reach for the stars, to make the unknown known. We count these moments as our proudest achievements. But we lost all that. Or perhaps we’ve just forgotten that we are still pioneers. And we’ve barely begun. And that our greatest accomplishments cannot be behind us, because our destiny lies above us.

Interstellar (2014) dir. Christopher Nolan

“I Told You My Dad Is A Spaceman.” *Chris Beck x Reader*

Originally posted by buchanstan

Requested by @juliagolia87 : Chris takes his child to the Air & Space museum and corrects the tour guide throughout. Making his son and his friend laugh and have the best time there. 
Pairings: Chris Beck x Reader
Warnings: Nothing. A lot of fluff
Word Count: 1,367


“Hey, whoa, steady buddy.” Chris chuckles as he takes the jug of milk from his son’s little hands, “you’re making a mess that mummy will have to clear up.” He screws the cap back on the milk and hands a spoon to his son, who is just grinning from ear to ear as he scoops the Fruit-Loops into his mouth.

Chris pours himself a mug of coffee, grinning as he watches the small boy hum to himself and eats his colourful cereal. His life had changed, obviously, for the better but it still surprises him daily by how much everything had changed. Only five years ago he was up in Space, saving his dumbass best friend and now here he is, watching his son eat his breakfast. He had met you long before NASA and loved you ever since.

When he arrived home you had a little reunion, resulting in the birth of, Buzz Buchanan Beck. Chris got to name him, he was allowed to name the little star if it was a boy, although you were adamant it was a girl; you were very wrong. Four years later you got your own back, a little girl on the way and you were able to name her, Luna Aries Beck, after your favourite Harry Potter character. (Chris still says when you aren’t around, that Luna is named after the lunar eclipses.) Buzz is just turning six and Luna is only a little over a year old, they both take after Chris, it’s like living with three of him; it’s tiring.

“I thought you two would be gone by now,” you chuckle as you walk into the kitchen, a sulky Luna clinging to your blouse. Luna was a daddy’s girl and she always knew when he was leaving, she’d be pouty and silent till he got back.

Chris shrugged, “Buzz wanted to make his own breakfast,” he nods to the mess of cereal around the bowl and you sighed. “Look at this little pouty face,” he takes Luna from you, gently holding under her armpits, her bottom lip trembles as he stares into her blue eyes. “Not gonna smile for me? You get to spend the WHOLE day with Mummy, how exciting is that?” Instead of answering, not that she can withhold a steady conversation, she lifts her little hand and pats his cheek lightly still pouting.

“Face it, Chris; she doesn’t want you to leave.” You smile, “she reminds me of the day you left me,” you sighed dramatically and he rolled his eyes. “You two need to go, you still need to pick up Sam from his house and beat the traffic to the Museum,” you take Luna back and he kisses her soft cheek, pouting at the fact she still hadn’t smiled. “Go, you big nerd.” Flicking the NASA baseball cap he wears, every day, all day.

“Rude, Mrs Beck,” He kisses your lips softly before helping Buzz off of the stool and into his own NASA jacket, you sighed lightly. “Don’t miss us, Spacemen, too much,” Chris calls before shutting the front door.

You looked at Luna with a gentle sigh, she looks up at you. “Your dad and brother are nerds, you know that?” You asked, she cracked smiles at that, “Please, don’t grow up to like space, anything but that. I need just one other that has no idea what all the constellations are.” You plead softly before putting her in the Disney high chair.

*Museum*

If there was one thing that Chris, almost, loves more than you and his kids its Space. He had experienced it for himself, he loved every minute of being up there with his team and he wouldn’t have changed anything- well. you know, maybe Watney not almost dying. The fact he has able to share this love, this passion and knowledge with his kid, it’s incredible. You knew Chris was secretly hoping that his son would love Astrology, like him when he was a boy. So, when the day came that Buzz expressed his love for it, well, Chris was ecstatic. 

As an early Birthday treat, Chris decided to take Buzz to the Air & Space Museum, they had a little section about his Mission to Mars. Buzz insisted on his best friend tagging along; it gave Chris a chance to brag a little more, not that he’d admit to bragging.

His smile widened when both kid’ faces light up upon entering. They’re holding each other hand, a buddy system thing they learnt from school, and instantly run off in the direction of a big picture; the solar system. Chris has a hard time keeping up with the boys, trying to point out little facts that might interest them but they’ve already run off to another section by the time he’s halfway through.

“Guys, you can’t keep running off,” he scolds lightly when he finally catches up to them. They’re at the back of a small crowd of tourists, listening to a guide. His eyes catch… his own, he frowns but glances up, Ares III Mission. “Huh, you’ll like this one.” He nudges Buzz with a grin, who is intently listening and peeking through the crowd to see the screens.

Listening to the guide drone on, and on, and on about his mission was actually pretty boring. Especially when the guy was getting the facts all wrong, “Actually, it was 549sols, so around 554 Earth days.” Chris called out, he had done this three times already, and the guy looked at him irritably.

“How does your dad know so much about this?” Sam whisper asked Buzz.     

“I said he was a Spaceman, he was there, I think.” Buzz shrugged and looked at his dad, Chris full attention on the guide and all the facts he was getting wrong, not wanting to miss any and call this idiot out.

The guide rolls his eyes. “So, NASA, devise a plan to send the Hermes back for Mark-“

“Wrong, again.” Beck interrupts abruptly, Buzz and Sam, giggling from beside him. “They were originally going to bring us back if it wasn’t for Henderson and Rich Purnell, we wouldn’t have had the plans to go get Watney back. Once we voted, NASA didn’t have a say,” He shrugs from under his cap.

“And who are you?” The guide, named, Dylan, snapped.

Chris nods to his NASA I.D that’s up, just under, Major Rick Martinez. He takes his cap off and awkwardly waves to the guide who is in full shock, confusion and embarrassment mode. He looked down at his son, who is laughing.

Chris spends the next twenty minutes answering questions from the small group, a few pictures too. Eyes keep going back to his son, who looks to be having the best time at watching people get excited over his dad. Buzz pulls Sam to the screens, reading through the team’s profiles.

“I told you my dad is a Spaceman,” Buzz says matter-of-factly.

*Back Home*

“Have a good time?” You asked as Buzz came running in and jumping on the sofa, he nodded, already pulling out the stuff Chris brought him from the gift shop. “Go get your sister; she’ll want to see all this too.” You grinned as Buzz got up, already calling Luna’s name.

Chris sighed. “I heckled a tour guide today,” he tells you brashly but you nod. “How do you know?”

“People were posting photos on Twitter, plus someone got a video. Watney has been texting me, he says ‘Your husband, defending our honour… hot!’ then a bunch of heart-eye emojis.” Chris snorts with laughter, shaking his head but releasing a tired sigh. His spirit lifted when he sees Luna being helped walk in with Buzz.

As you sit on the floor listening to Buzz talk about his day, how Chris explained the solar system and listening to his Q&A about the Ares III mission, Chis laid down on the sofa with Luna on his chest. Petting her hair softly, humming the Star Wars theme, drifting between being awake and asleep; dreaming of the day that Luna will tag along to those museums.

(If you have any Chris Beck requests, send them in, I’d love to write more of him. Maybe even a series when I finished my Lance Tucker one. - Rosalee)


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Seb stuff tag(idk if you meant strictly actor seb or him and the characters too): @livxmartinson

casey-anne-j  asked:

Natasha×fem reader where the reader is on her period so she slips out of bed in the middle if the night and Tasha freaks out when she realizes she's gone and finds her in the gym working out to get rid of the period pains. Fluff pls!

Sorry it took so long to write this. My writers block was very strong.

But I hope you like it.

—–

This wasn’t working. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t sleep. Your cramps were killing you. You thought of making a hot water bottle but you were already too warm. Apart from taking pain killers the only thing that really helped was a good old fashioned work out. Normally you sparred with your girlfriend Tasha but she was fast asleep next to you. You didn’t have the heart to wake her.

You slide out of bed and pad your way across the bedroom floor. Trying to be as quiet as you can. You make it to the door and see that she hasn’t stirred. You smile to yourself and slip out of the bedroom, being sure to leave the door open a crack.

You walk down to the training room and grab your workout gear from your locker. You get changed in silence then make your way over to the punching bag to let out your frustrations.

*

Tasha woke up with a start. She had a horrible dream that she had lost you. It was okay though because you were still there right next to her. She rolls over only to find your side of the bed empty

Tasha starts to panic. She goes into agent mode. She was determined to find you or whoever took you.

Pulling on some jeans and a top she walks silently down the hall. There was no sign of a break in. She by passes the elevator and chooses the stairs. The element of surprise was on her side. She walked down the stairwell till she heard noises. The sound of fighting. It was coming from the gym. It was too late for anyone to be working out so it must be a fight. She pulled open the door and snuck in. she hugged tight to the walls, being careful to stay in the shadows.

Her heart melted when she saw you. You were going hell for leather at the punching bag. There was no fight it was just you.

“Can’t sleep?” Tasha walks over to you.

She makes you jump, you didn’t think anyone would have come down.

“Shit, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Tasha giggles.

“Sorry (y/n) I didn’t mean to startle you. How long have you been up? You could have woken me and I would have sparred with you.”

“Not long about an hour, I didn’t wake you up because you haven’t been sleeping well and I thought you need your beauty sleep. I am starting to see crows feet.”

“Haahaa very funny. Is it your cramps again?”

“Yeah, they are really painful but I figured that if I throw myself into a workout I will forget about the pain.”

“Have you taken pain killers?”

“Yeah before I started.”

“Since I am up would you like to spar I promise not to go easy on you.”

“Oh really, I see how it is.”

“And what pray tell would that be.”

“You are just wanting to up your win tally.”

Tasha clutches her chest in mock horror.

“I would never do such a thing. So, are you in?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Tasha was right she didn’t go easy on you and that was what you needed. While moving gracefully out of her punches and kicks it made you forget all about your cramps.

She truly was a life saver.

After having her tap out again. You let out a giant yawn.

“Okay miss I think it is time for you to go back to sleep you must be exhausted.”

“Only a little bit.”

“Come on shower up and meet me upstairs. That is an order.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Tasha goes upstairs to use the shower in your shared room and you go to the one in the gym, as your clothes were still in your locker.

Once showered you take the elevator up to your room and see Tasha waiting for you on the bed.

“All clean now?”

“Yup, what time is it?”

“Going on half 5 but a few more hours in bed will do wonders for your cramps. Here it is about time you can take more pain killers.”

She hands you a glass of water and two pain killers. You take them and set the glass on the bed side table. You tie up your hair and get under the covers.

Tasha is waiting for you to curl up in her arms. You gladly do as she rubs soothing circles on your lower back.

“Thank you for sparring with me.” You yawn again.

“It’s okay (y/n) now go to sleep. I will wake you up with  a steaming cup of (coffee/tea)”

“Thanks. G’night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

 —–

Hope you liked it.

Prompts are still open

7

I n t e r s t e l l a r  (2014) - Christopher Nolan

We’ve always defined ourselves by the ability to overcome the impossible. And we count these moments. These moments when we dare to aim higher, to break barriers, to reach for the stars, to make the unknown known. We count these moments as our proudest achievements. But we lost all that. Or perhaps we’ve just forgotten that we are still pioneers. And we’ve barely begun. And that our greatest accomplishments cannot be behind us, because our destiny lies above us.

BOY, OH BOY

Originally posted by tomhollandislife

Summary: High school is the checkpoint in your life where you begin to notice boys more, Peter Parker especially. You have a hard crush on him, but he doesn’t notice it, or you for that matter. But then one day, it’s as if the Gods had fulfilled your wishes, in which you two come together in a collaboration that you’ve been dying to have happened.

Author’s Note: PART ONE of ‘BOY, OH BOY’. Hey, everyone! Just a warning, all I want to say is that I’m sort of new at this, which means I’m a bit rusty. But all in all, enjoy this imagine!

Written by @auzzie-pengu

~

Boy, oh boy, you thought, sitting by the window, in the fifth row, near the back of the classroom. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet, but you’d figured that since the door was left open, it would be okay to enter. All your other classmates were still out. Then Peter Parker appeared. Stumbling through the entry, bumping his elbow right against the doorknob, he then tripped. His textbooks flying out of his arms, plummeting to the floor.

You contemplated whether or not to help him out, but when you finally approached, everybody filed in, in which you retreated back to your desk. You didn’t like big crowds, and Biology had a large number of students. They stopped and glanced down at the poor boy, gathering his things. Laughter echoed. All walked around to find their own seats. When the time was right, you went for it, taking big strides and picking up the last book. You took no notice of the cover or title.

When you were about to give it to him, Peter had already moved and sat at the back, wearing earphones with his laptop opened.

Should I approach him? You asked yourself. This was a major dilemma. You wanted so badly to talk to him, to sit next to him, to be friends with him, or even more. And you tried. But you’re always late with open chances. One time, he was standing in the corridor, by his locker, putting away textbooks and other things, and you felt this rush of confidence. But that quickly drained into the abyss of over-thinking, once you began to hesitate more and more that he’d already left.

You didn’t want to risk it. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe for now, you should just sit down, resume the homework of last week, and completely ignore the idea of Peter ever liking you.

Ms. Warren walked in, holding folders and her laptop, and setting everything down on her spacious desk. “Hello, class. My apologies for my time management. Just needed to finish off printing your projects for the term.”

You turned your head and watched the teacher begin to hand out the task sheets.

You walked up to her and offered some help. “Did you want me to hand out the rest?”

She nodded. “That would be great, Y/N, thank you.”

You took half of the pile and went up and down the aisles, before reaching Peter. You hid the book under the task sheet and rested at his side. He smiled up at you, only briefly, then resumed to his laptop. Taking a brief glance at a screen, you saw it was a battle at an airport, but you thought no more of it, and left a task sheet at your own desk, before handing everything back to Ms. Warren.

“You can go back to your seat, Y/N,” she’d instructed. And you followed suit, overlooking the printed paper in your hands once you’d sat down. “Alright. Now, pay attention, everyone. Peter?”

You looked over your shoulder, a little too obvious, but felt relief when nobody noticed your eagerness, as they were all watching him intently.

“Peter!” Ms. Warren tried again, finally getting his attention. He lifted his head up, abruptly, and as if by instinct, he flicked his eyes to you, then to the teacher.

“Sorry,” he said, rushing to close his laptop, and pulling the earphones out.

She said nothing, just nodded her head. As everyone else turned back to the front, you thought it was best if you did too, just for the sake of not being a creeper.

“I’d suggest you all listen, alright? Your performance and participation will effect your grade.” She began to go through everything, talking about the purpose of this term project and what you all had to do. “Everyone will have a partner. And with your partner, you must dissect a cow heart. Afterwards, make a report. Help each other out. There are no rights or wrongs, but just try to be included.”

A cow heart. You gulped, scratching the metallic layer off your pencil, all the flakes falling on to your text book. Ms. Warren held a list in her hand, and wrote with her other, the chalk scraping against the blackboard, making you cringe. Then you realised that there were names beside each other. You saw yours. Next to Peter’s.

Boy, oh boy.

After pairing everybody else, your teacher had informed everyone to sit with their partner. You stood up, just as Peter sat beside you. You made space for him, accidentally pushing your notebook off the edge of the counter. You picked it back up, then turned to him, ready to say hello.

He beat you to it by a second. “Hello,” he was quiet when he spoke. His eyes avoided yours. Not purposely. Or maybe even so.

“Hi.” It was almost a squeak when you’d responded.

You two said nothing else, and listened to Ms. Warren’s instructions, after fetching a trolley of large plastic bags, that had the hearts of a cow. She told everyone to grab one for each duo. You went to grab a bag, smelling the odour of the blood, wishing that the ziplock did a better job at barricading the smell. It didn’t. You tried not to gag.

Placing it on the table, where there was the equipment that assumably Peter had taken, you ‘plated’ the heart on the tray, using the plastic bag as a glove substitute. Peter had given you your own pair of rubber gloves, as he was already wearing his. You put them on, equipped your safety goggles, and finally a lab coat, and awaited more instructions.

“I’d like all of you to inspect these following attributions. Identify them. Then take photos. Raise your hand, and I’ll help you.”

You grabbed the scalpel, hands shaky. The stench of blood was disgusting and it made you sick; not to be over dramatic. Peter noticed how nervous you were and so he helped you.

“Maybe you could start by slicing it in half. Vertically, so we can see the arteries and the heart valves and stuff,” he said, outlying where you should preferably cut it. He glanced up at you. “Unless, you wanted me to. Because I can. You could just take pictures.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re a better photographer than me. I can do it, don’t worry,” you assured him, holding your breath, then positioning the scalpel at the bottom of the heart. You pushed the blade forward, watching it sliding through he muscle, smoothly.

To you, this felt wrong. It’s basically—no, it’s EXACTLY—like stabbing someone in the heart. You sliced right around as suggested by Peter, who clicked away on his camera, taking photos.

“I think you’re able to open it up, now.” He used a paddle stick to inspect the gouge. “Yep. Do you want to?”

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, just… okay.” You peel one half, like turning a page of a book. You had to cut the arteries and veins in order to open it fully. “L-Low and behold… the inside of the heart…”

He took more pictures. “I think we’re done with pictures for now. Let’s start labelling parts.”

You stood back, just to catch your breath. It took a lot for you to be around a fresh organ that reeks of bodily functions. Peter got real close to the heart as you watched him. You liked how his jawline hardened, and how his eyes squinted a bit. Then he looked up at you, and you hoped he didn’t notice you gawking.

"You’re really good at this,” he commented, with a smile.

This threw you off. “What, d-dissecting a heart?”

"Yeah. Everything is identifiable, and we could see each chamber clearly. Look, which one do you prefer to be the right ventricle?”

You pointed, your finger a centimetre away from the slimy texture of the heart muscle. He nodded, agreeably.

"I didn’t think it would be that ‘neat’,” you air quoted and laughed, awkwardly.

It was a moment you cherished when he stared at you with a genuine smile. You stomach churned and your heart raced. You smiled too. He then looked down at his camera and picked it up. He was contemplating something, then he said, “Do you want to pose for one last picture? I had an idea for our report.”

(Credit to @auzzie-pengu the writer of this request. If you wanna send love, leave a comment (not an ask to this blog as she won’t see it), or go over to her blog and send her the love there. Thank you for taking on the request, can’t wait for the next part of this. - Rosalee)


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Sorry I Kept You Waiting*Steve Rogers x Reader*

Originally posted by luvindowney

Requested by @iamthemaskhewears:  Hi! Can I please request a Steve x Reader imagine? They have been dating for a while, and he wants to propose, but he gets nervous and so awkward, he just can’t do it, so he asks the team to help him set up something and he finally proposes? Only to realize the reader knew all along cause she found the ring some time before?? Can you make it extra fluffy?? Thanks :)
Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton (Laura Barton), Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff(Both mentioned)
Ratings: Teen

I Love You *Lance Tucker x Reader* (My other Valentines’ Day request)

Note- Who else just loves Evans and Atwell because I forgot how much of a fucking fan I am of those two! Can they like… get married and have cute babies, please? Thanks. 


A Month Ago

You were busy doing laundry, a riveting life as always. It had to be done and since Steve had been on a week-long mission it was left to you. Steve actually loved cleaning, you hated it, and Steve loved things being in order and neat. You loved constructive chaos, your desk, yes was a mess but you knew where everything was.

So, it was no surprise that you had no clue where any cleaning products are. You didn’t know where bleach was or where the mop was kept, it was like a Steve scavenger hunt. Eventually, you got everything you needed together and began creating up a cleaning plan, it had been going good. Surprisingly well, you didn’t over soap the floors so they were slippery and you didn’t get bleach in your eyes, it was a success.

You went into the small laundry room of the small, two-story apartment you shared with Steve. Admittedly you had no clue how to work the washer, you are an Avenger, you don’t have time for this but that was no excuse because Steve knows how to work the washing machine. You grabbed the flower smelling detergent from the top shelf; tried would be a good word.

Sighing loudly you climbed onto the machine, peering at the shelf and holding it so you wouldn’t fall, you grabbed the detergent and set it down but something caught your eyes. A small, red velvet box was hiding behind the detergent. Your heart raced and you grinned giddily, you knew exactly what it was. Instead of peeking, despite wanting to you put the detergent where you left it and decided to play dumb.

Which was gonna be difficult considering your boyfriend didn’t propose till a month or so later.

Now – Steve’s p.o.v

“I have no idea how I’m gonna do it,” Steve sighed in defeat beside his two best friends. “I just want it to go perfectly, I know she’s gonna say yes but I have this unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I go to ask.”

Bucky snorted, “What makes you think she’ll say yes?” Sam nudged the ex-assassin with a small glare, Bucky continued to chuckle to himself. “Kidding, seriously, just ask because she loves you and you love her.”

Bucky wasn’t a big help. Steve should have expected that after the accords and the fighting he was still getting used to… this. Living in Wakanda was easier but it came with trials. You happily packed up everything important and moved here, Bucky was as important to you as he was Steve, and that only made Steve love you more.

You got along with everyone; there wasn’t a single person here that didn’t like you.

“It’s Valentine’s Day; T’Challa is hosting that grand ball, why don’t you propose there?” Sam asked with a little shrug.

Steve thought for a few seconds. “I mean, she does want to go. I was gonna cook or something but that sounds better,” Sam grinned smugly at Bucky who rolled his eyes in response.

Steve sent you a text saying he’d meet you at the party tonight, he got a rather colourful message back by saying you wish he told you a week in advance. You now are having to go find Natasha and Wanda to pick a dress, he reassured you, you’d look beautiful whatever you wore.

**
Steve stood beside T’Challa and a few of his friends, waiting for you to arrive. Bucky had opted out of joining the party, he was still a little nervous around crowds of people. Sam eventually showed up, a date of his own beside him, happily introducing Steve to who he was spending Valentine’s evening with.

Steve stood, impatiently, waiting for your arrival. Steve had talked it over with T’Challa and Sam, gotten a little advice from both but he was still nervous. He eased a little when Clint showed up, along with Laura, both of whom got him laughing over Clint’s embarrassing story of the proposal. It took the edge off of the night, he felt a little happier knowing he was surrounded by friends.

Clint nudged him and nodded to the door, he snapped his attention to where you stood. You were wearing a sparkly, red, silk dress that swoops to the floor. Your eyes are casting over the crowd before they settle on him, beautiful grin lightening up your face and all the nerves, plus butterflies fluttered away with that one look. Natasha and Wanda were at either arm of you, also looking graceful but his eyes were locked onto you.

When you finally walked over to him, your hands instantly going to adjust his tie, he let slip a few chuckles as you grinned up at him. Silently he nodded to the dance floor as a question, you gave a shy little smile with a small nod allowing him to take your hand and lead you to the dance floor, the nerves fighting to come back.

You had your arms wrapped around Steve’ neck, his on your waist as you both swayed to the soft music of the band. Steve could feel the ring box in his jacket pocket, it growing heavier with each passing minute you danced with him. He had to do it, now or never, and he didn’t like the latter.

Steve still wasn’t the best dancer, still, he grabbed a hold of your hand and spun you, you giggled lightly and looked at him with a bashful grin. He then spun you back into his chest, your giggles ringing through his ears as he looked down at you.

“Will you marry me?” Steve’s voice coming out breathless and slightly shaky with anticipation.

“I wondered how long you were going to keep me waitin’,” you smiled coyly up at him and Steve eyebrows furrowed. “I found the ring a month ago, I decided to do laundry and have been waiting ever since.”

He sighed gently and blushed, of course. He was stupid to think he could hide something from you, even if you weren’t looking for it, you always somehow found out.

He pulled the box from his pocket; you grinned as he presented the ring to you and looked in awe at the gorgeous, simple diamond ring. He takes it out of the box carefully and lightly takes your hand, placing the ring on your finger and moving it so it reflects the light. Glimmering under the chandelier lighting.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Y/N,” he mutters pulling you to him for a kiss which you happily returned. “Sorry, I kept you waiting.”

“I’ll let you off just don’t keep me waiting at the altar?” 

He grinned, seeing your friends just a little behind you all grinning and giving thumbs up. “Wouldn’t dream of that, I did have this whole plan and speech for you but… seemed like the perfect time.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly. Always with the planning. 

(I changed it slightly but still, hope this is okay. I’ve come to realise how much I struggle with writing requests, it’s been so long that I just find it very difficult, I am sorry if this isn’t great. Hopefully this is good. - Rosalee)


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Behind The Bars (Chapter 1)

Night in the Woods - Shelter AU

Fandom: Night in the Woods

Characters: Mae Borowski, Bea Santello, Greggory Lee, Angus Delaney, Casey Hartley (Mentioned), Selma Ann “Selmers” Forrester, Jeremy “Germ” Warton 

Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort/Mystery 

Rating: T

Warnings: Abuse, Character Death(s), Usage of Drugs

Word Count: 2293 Words

Disclaimer: I don’t own Night in the Woods nor the characters. 

Summary: Mae Borowski was Possum Springs’ troublesome stray until an animal shelter caught her. Adopted and returned countless of times, the shelter decided to put her down… until Bea Santello decided to step in.   

Author’s Note: First story for the NITW fandom and an AU too so, I’m sorry if it’s not good. This story is inspired by my cat, Julius who is now a huge lazy furbaby. Credit to Fuzzinator23 for proof reading this story. 


Chapter 1 - The Storm

A loud yowl pierced through the night and rain. Heavy footsteps chase after smaller ones, splashes of water drowns into the rain as if god doesn’t want anyone to know what happens.

Another yowl comes through; angry, agonizing, desperate. Aluminium cans falls over as a small figure runs out of one of the cans. The figure is cornered, trapped between a huge wall and two shadows looms over it.

A net is thrown. Yowls and hisses follows as it struggles. One of the larger figure approaches and scoops it up, “No more running for you, kitten,” a low growl comes through.

The cat in the net stops struggling, probably due to exhaustion or fear. Storm still brewing the town. The cat shivers and curls up, letting out soft mews. The net is slung over a shoulder and is taken into a van.

Damp, cold, dark, all the words runs inside her head. Her body shudders, her fur is wet and the floor is cold. She wouldn’t be surprised if she ever ends up sick.

Back to the prison. Cold, dark prison.

She doesn’t want to go back there again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The smell of morning after the rain had passed is refreshing, calming you could say. The soft light of the sun rises from the horizon, a perfect time to take in some fresh air outside and say hello to the neighbors.

…or stay in bed in the weekends.

Which is something Bea Santello would gladly do.

As she lays in bed in a tank top & shorts and blankets over her body, due to how cold last night has been, she regretted to not wear long pants & a shirt with sleeves but she could care less.

Except the fact her clock has been buzzing for a while now.

A claw extends and knocks it off the nightstand. At least the sound of the impact startles her enough to elicit a groan from the woman and forces her to move to the edge of the bed. Opening an eye halfway, she glances down.

9:45 AM.

Shit. Overslept again.

She picks up the digital clock and places it back on the nightstand before getting up. The gator yawns as she stretches herself and gets herself into the bathroom. Taking a quick hot shower and brushes her teeth, Beatrice gets herself ready for the day.

The store ain’t gonna open by itself. Ugh.

Even on weekends like this, she must open the store.

She puts on her signature black dress and hangs an ankh necklace around her neck. She looks at herself in the dresser mirror. If she looks closely, she could see the bags under her half-opened eyes. As if her dull blue eyes aren’t enough to tell how tired she has been.

There’s no use complaining about it now. She has done this for years. So, she sighs. Last night’s coffee would be good enough to provide the energy for the day.

For the day.

She still needs energy for night as well.

Chugging down a jug of coffee sounds like a good idea. Well, she was fixing to do that when she got to the kitchen, if only she didn’t glance at the clock.

9:58 AM.

Ah, shit.

But she still chugged down the coffee like how she wanted to.

She grabs a box of cigarettes and lighter from the counter and heads for the door. Hastily puts on her boots, she puts a cigarette in between her lips and lights it up, inhaling some of the nicotine from it.

It doesn’t really go well with caffeine.

Screw it.

Might as well, the horrible taste will keep her awake enough to go through the day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Like any days in autumn, it is a very long day.

Well, for Bea at least.

Everything in her life IS very long day.

Puffing out smoke, the smell of nicotine engulfs her and fills up her nostrils. It might have reached her brain and slowly killing her.

Eh, she wouldn’t mind being dead. So long she didn’t have to stand behind the register and check stocks in the store.

Ol’ Pickaxe has been standing for as long she could remember. She basically runs the store now, considering her father wouldn’t bother handling it himself. The tip of her tail taps on the floor to fill the silence in the empty hardware store.

She sits on a stool at the side and grabs a pamphlet from the counter. Might as well read while waiting for anyone to walk in. But the paper has been the same; all about the dead mines Possum Springs had once long time ago.

Possum Springs; a middle-of-nowhere-and-dying town. A hole which she would gladly leave, if it weren’t for the fact that her father needs help from his only daughter. Stays on the couch, watching tv, drink or sleeps are the things he has done. .

Ever since her mother died.

Of cancer.

Which she really doesn’t like talking about.

Or bother thinking about it.

So, her dad shuts down and, like it or not, she has to stay and help him recover; starting by taking over the shop.

Which is what some people would say.

Ugh.

Bea sighs as the cigarette in her mouth has shorten. She takes it out and stamps it into the ashtray nearby, before taking out another cigarette from her dress pocket and lights it up as she places it against her lips.

Sucking in the smoke, she sighs heavily. Her shoulders slumps, the taste of unsweetened coffee still lingers in her mouth.

It’s disgusting.

Eh, works for me, she thought.

The sound of the bell from the door rings. She looks up, seeing a familiar bear tipping his hat as he approaches her. “Good morning, Bea,” Angus says.

“Hey, Angus,” she says. Angus places his hat back on his head and his ears perks up.

“You look worse for wear. Is something the matter?”

“Stayed up late. Overslept. Drank a lot of coffee this morning and wish that I could die right now.”

“You do realize smoking and coffee are bad together, yes?”

Bea shrugs. “Eh, so long as it keeps me awake. And I smoke to release my stress… which is all the time, mind you,” she says, squinting her eyes at him.

The man sighs and adjusts his glasses, “Then why not take up my offer, will you?” he says.

The gator is silent for a moment and Angus patiently waits for an answer.

But she already raises her hands. “I will not have a pet, Angus. I have enough things in my hands and I do not need a pet. I’ve been doing fine for quite a while now,” she protests.

It isn’t the first-time Angus suggested it. He has been telling her to get a pet, said it will help her to release her stress much effectively and they can be a good friend to her.

But also, there will be more mouths to feed.

As if her father isn’t enough to look after for.

She turned them down so far, but the more she did, the more frequent Angus brings it up to pique her interest.

Angus sighs once again. “Well, if you already decided that then. But could I ask a favor from you then?”

“Uh… sure, I guess. What is it?”

“Come with me to the shelter.”

Bea stares, trying to process what he just said, “…what?”

“Come with me to the shelter,” he repeats. Her blue eyes squint at him again as if trying to eat him whole.

“Angus, I told you-…”

“I’m getting a pet for myself, Bea. And the shelter is at the other side of town, so I need a ride from you.”

She was going to say something about it but she decided not to. She had seen the shelter once when she went there to deliver the tools they ordered. It is pretty far from where she lives and if it isn’t for Angus’ asthma, she would’ve turn it down.

Plus, she’s driving.

She can get out of work early since she’s the only one in the store today, like always.

So, she agrees.

She’s not the one that’s adopting… right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cold. It was literally cold when she steps inside the shelter. The inside, unusually, looked no different from a medical center and the air conditioner’s air is so strong she could’ve died from freezing to death here. It was white, excluding some plants, toys and magazines on the coffee table.

This place reminds her of the hospital.

She hates it.

Angus goes up to the reception while Bea decides to stay in the lobby to read the magazines as she waits. He’s led to the back by the receptionist, who is a goat. Already, she’s bored after leafing through few pages of the magazine in her hand. She closes it and was fixing to light up a cigarette, but the shelter has a strictly “No smoking” policy.

Great.

So, her tail taps on the floor impatiently. She looks around, trying to take in the interior and sighs. She really hopes Angus would be quick because she’s bored to death.

Which is not, the kind of death she wanted.

Eh, whatever.

Still, she looks around and her eyes settles on a cage. An obvious black cage amongst the whiteness of the walls and floor. There’s was someone, or something in the cage curling up.

Is it one of the pets? Did it just get here?

She gets up and approaches, kneeling next to the little cage. Whatever’s inside is shielded by a cloth so she pulls it off. A cat. A small, navy blue cat wearing a brown and red shirt and black pants. The tip of the hair is red along with it’s tail, which wraps around it nicely.

And covered it’s face.

Bea makes sure no one’s around before she gently pokes the cat with her claw. The ears twitch and she immediately pulls away, slightly shaking the cage when her claws hit the bars. The ears perk up; she could see the right ear was notched, making it look like a bite mark.


The cat yawns and stretches itself as much as it could. It opens it’s eyes, which are larger than any normal cats she has seen in the neighborhood. Red eyes, brighter than Bea’s, blink several times before they stare at the young gator.

“Can I help you, miss?” A gruff voice greets from behind. She turns to see a bear, much older than Angus. She could see the faint wrinkles on his face and a name tag on his shirt written; Hank, dressed in all white, so she assumed he’s the vet. She scratches the back of her head.

“Just… checking this little fella here,” she says.

“Oh… I’m sorry, but she’s not up for adoption anymore.”

This pique her curiosity a bit. She looks up to the older bear. “What do you mean by that?”

Doctor Hank lets out a heavy sigh. He seems reluctant. Bea was about to say something but the man cuts her off, “She had to be put down,” he says with a low voice.

Those words… ‘put down’, are poison to her ears. Irritating, hurt. Her usually tired, dull blue eyes widens in shock. She glances at the cat in the cage who now tries to stand, but she couldn’t due to how small the space she’s in. But she stares, beaming at her.

“Is… she sick?” Because that’s the only reason a doctor would be putting down someone. Sickness, a terrible sickness that has no cure.

Like cancer.

Like her mother.

Shit, why the hell does she have to remember that?

“It’s more to her behavior. She’s… too violent, even to other pets in this shelter. It’s one of the reasons why she’s inside the cage instead at the back with the rest.”

Behavior? Violent? Is that why they want her dead?

“She’s that bad?” Bea asks, her tone hardened without she realizes.

Doctor Hank notices that and sighs, “She has been adopted four times this month and returned in the same day. The longest she’s ever been with a foster family is a whole day. But the next day she was returned. And the complaints are the same; stealing food, bullying others and vandalizing homes,” he explains.

Those things should have be enough to convince Beatrice to not adopt a pet. But she kept glancing at the cat, who now approaches the bars and reached one of her paws to her. Bea doesn’t move, not even when the cat grabs one of her claws.

Curious like a child, she thought. She has seen other pets who are a lot larger than her, even other cats in the neighborhood. She looks innocent enough to not cause all that.

Well, maybe she would but it couldn’t have been on purpose.

Right?

“What’s her name?” Bea asks.

“Pardon?”

“Her name. What is it?”

“Mae Borowski. 20. But too small despite her age. Probably a disease regarding to her growth.”

Dwarfism, she thought. That could be it. Maybe. She’s not very keen with all those medical terms. She looks at Mae for a moment and, unexpectedly, she opens the cage. Doctor Hank tries to stop her, but he stood at the side when Bea holds up her hand.

Mae crawls, no, rolls out of the cage like a ball and sits up to look at Bea. The gator gently pets her, her fur is oily and sticky. She feels slightly upset by how Mae was treated, even though Hank said she will be put down.

Poison. Those words are poison.

Behaviors can be fixed.

She can be fixed.

Bea looks back at the man. “I’m adopting her.“

I’m Counting On It*Peter Quill x Reader*

Originally posted by autumnalauthor

Originally posted by jenniferlawurence

Summary: You are sent to retrieve an important artefact, only someone is coming between you and the precious, expansive item. 

Idea given to me by @firewolfkelly because I wanted to test if I could write Star-Lord before I ask you all to send requests. 


You pushed the old ruins door open, your heeled boots clicking against the stone floors that were crumbling away, you gave a small sigh and pulled the scarf covering your mouth from your face and walked further inside. What was left didn’t look that great, the roof was almost all caved onto the floor, various small creatures bustled around the floors watching you.

You skipped up few steps and looked around for a door or anything out of the ordinary, your job consisted of collecting important artefacts for potential bidders, it was a tough business but the more valuable the artefact the better the pay you’d get.

Your eyes catch something moving, something much larger, a man size large. Dancing. He looked to be around six feet, red long coat and he seemed to be dancing with some weird thing covering his ears, the only question you had in your head was how he knew about this place? It had been off the radar for years, no one ever really thought to come this far out just for this now, uninhabited planet. You crossed your arms as he shook his hips in an odd fashion, whoever this guy thinks he is, he clearly doesn’t know what an utter loser he is right now.

He turns to face you but his head down as he continues to dance, a small rectangle object in his hand as he spins on the spot and the music? You’d never heard before was blasting through the weird mechanics covering his head. He glanced up before double taking, stopping dead in his tracks as he stares at you in shock, didn’t expect to see someone else clearly. You quirk an eyebrow and he quickly pulls the object covering his ears off and looks around awkwardly.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked his voice holding minor embarrassment.

“Long enough,” you answer back with nonchalance, “Who are you?” You uncross your arms and place your hands on your hips, flashing the blaster guns in their thigh holsters and he glances down at them for a second before looking back to you.

A small smirk edges its way on his face, “Peter Quill but you may know me as Star-Lord!” You frown and look at him, you had no clue what or who a Star-Lord was but apparently he is. “C’mon Star-Lord,” it sounded like a whine, “legendary outlaw?” You shrugged at him in response and he sighed, “who are you then?”

“Y/N,” You turn on your heel and walk away from him but he quickly runs in front of you, looking down at you with curiosity in his blue eyes. “Can I help you. Star-Lord?”

He nodded, “What exactly are you doing here?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” you tell him stepping around him, “but since you don’t seem like a threat, I’m actually scavenging for something, an important something and you’re in my way, so please, go back to whatever I walked in on.”

You walk up to a door with Peter Quill trailing behind, “Excuse me? Don’t seem like a threat? I’m an outlaw.” You refrain from rolling your eyes.

“So is half the Galaxy, but please, do continue your little rant.”

“I will-” You hold up a finger and he promptly stops talking as you kneel on the floor and begin to unlock it, these old types of locks were always the hardest to crack but usually, in your time of doing this held the most remarkable of interests. Once opened you nod at him to continue as you step inside.

You smile when you see the golden artefact shining on the wall, it was part of a whole painting on the back wall, it looked magnificent; you almost felt bad for taking away the possession but you needed it. You walked over not bothering to look or even continue to listen to Peter if he was talking, you stared up at the small golden disc, a few pieces of the wall had gone missing it was enough to enable you to get close enough. You began to climb the wall, thankfully you had fingerless gloves on, once you were close enough you reached a hand towards the artefact and pulled it from the wall. Holding and releasing your breath when it set nothing off.

Jumping down with a small proud smile to yourself. “-As I was saying earlier, I’m gonna need you to hand that over to me!” You had forgotten about Quill, turning around you notice his own weapon aimed at you, his other hand outstretched. “Legendary outlaw, I did warn you.”

“You didn’t tell me you were here for this!” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“You didn’t ask.” He motions with his hand for you to hand it over, you remain staring at him, “it’s just business, babe.” He smirks confidently.

That hit a nerve, as he reached over you threw the object in the air causing him to look up, you quickly kicked him in the chest and he fell landing on his back. You grabbed the golden disc and picked up his blaster aiming at him with a small smirk, walking over with a cocky grin as he groaned and looked back up at you, holding his hands up.

“It’s just business, honey.” You recall voice edging dripping with sarcasm and laced with challenge, he gave a gentle sigh as purse your lips, “I doubted you, you are a threat to me and I am not entirely sure in what way yet,” he cocked an eyebrow despite laying on the ground with a gun pointed at him. “Don’t get too cocky, Star-lord. I’ll be seeing you around!”

You turn swiftly and before you could step away you feel a hand grab your ankle, yanking you to the floor and you fell with a thud, gun falling out of your hand as you groaned. Rolling onto your front as Peter grabbed the disc in a flurry, you yanked him down by the coat and he landed next to you, on his front and you straddled his back. The disc inches from both of your hands as you struggled to both grab it in the haze of winning. Shoving his head into the dirt floor, you reached for it and grinned, leaning down to Peter’s ear.

“Better luck next time, Star-Lord.” You jumped off his back and skipped down to the door, turning as Peter lifted himself onto his knees.

“I’m counting on it,” instead of looking angry or defeated, he was grinning like this was a game for him. You laughed out of slight shock and amusement, nodding before slinking out of the door and back towards your spaceship.

Slightly counting on seeing Quill next time.

(First time writing Peter, hope this okay. If I ruined Peter Quill tell me and I’ll stop writing for him because I know how badly I can write some characters. - Rosalee)


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Cornfield Chase
Hans Zimmer
Cornfield Chase

Let’s just stop for a second and appreciate the wonderful soundtrack of Interstellar. Thank You Hans Zimmer.