man with his skin

Hazey- Chapter 2

word count:739

warnings: swearing

pairings: bucky x OC (but can be subbed for fem!reader)

a/n: thanks for reading guys :))) the fight scene will be in the next chapter, really excited to show off what Rowan can do


After some negotiations and promises that I would be kept hidden from the world, I agreed to help Cap and Bucky. I remember the horribly awkward car ride. Steve was driving, there was a dark skinned man with kind eyes in the passenger seat, his name was Sam, and Bucky and I were in the back.

“So what exactly do you do?” Sam spoke, breaking the silence and meeting my eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to explain. I can see things, visions. I can make people see things that aren’t there, or not see things that are there. I can look at someone and know everything about them. If I try hard enough I could tell you when and where you’ll die…” my voice dropped off on that dark note. Sam nodded, shifting in what I assumed was discomfort. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bucky’s eyes looking at me intently, almost like he wanted to say something, but I averted my eyes. He had yet to speak a single word to me.

We arrived in an airport parking lot in Berlin, where we met up with the rest of Steve’s team. A man with short brown hair was the first to hop out of the large white van. He eyed me suspiciously, but nodded and held out his hand.

“Clint.”

“Rowan.”

Clint turned to look at Steve.

“Cap”, he greeted him.

“You know I wouldn’t have called if I had any other choice.”

“Hey man, you’re doing me a favor. Besides…I owe her a debt”, he replied, looking back at the woman that was stepping out of the van and walking towards us.

She looked at me warily but that emotion was soon replaced with warmth as she smiled at me.

“Im Wanda.”

“Thanks for having my back”, Steve addressed her.

Wanda glanced at Clint with a ghost of a smile on her face.

“It was time to get off my ass.”

Clint turned and opened the van’s side door, revealing a man with dark brown hair who had appeared to have been sleeping. He stepped out of the van, scanning Clint, and I’s faces, before his gaze landed on Steve.

“Captain America”, he said, sounding astonished.

“Mr. Lang”, Steve replied, shaking Lang’s hand.

“It’s an honor”, Lang said, shaking Steve’s hand for an awkward but humorously long amount of time. “I’m shaking your hand way too long”, he added before finally releasing Steve’s hand.

Steve explained to Lang why he was asked to join, and how if he helped, he would be wanted by the government. That last bit caught my attention. Steve promised that I would be hidden from the government, was that an empty promise? Did he only tell me that so I would help him?

No, he couldn’t have, I finally decided, silencing my doubts. I had known the man for less than 36 hours, but I knew enough about him to know that he meant what he said. That he would genuinely try to keep me a secret.

An intercom crackled to life, before a man’s voice speaking in German echoed throughout the lot.

“They’re evacuating the airport”, Bucky explained. He had kept silent during the entire transaction between the rest of us. Even then he really only looked to Steve as he spoke. If I hadn’t shut myself out from the rest of the world my entire life, maybe I would know why he seemingly only trusted Steve, why he continued to act skeptical of the other people that had also come to help him. But I knew nothing of him, or anyone else in the lot for that matter. Hell, I had been so afraid of myself for so long that I barely knew who I was.

Steve told us all to suit up, and I watched the others reach into the vehicles they came out of and grab gear and uniforms. I stood there, a bit lost. I had nothing but my mind and the oversized jacket I was wearing. The others finally emerged after about ten minutes, looking like true heroes.

Sam, who was now wearing giant metal wings, looked at my seemingly underdressed figure and smirked a little.

“That’s all you got?” he asked me.

I looked down at my worn jeans and black boots, before looking back at him, I shrugged and smiled.

“This is all I need.”

I drew this months ago but was very afraid of posting it .. The idea of older Lance being the next leader of Voltron hunted me since I watched the first few episodes of the first season. Skin damaged by the sun, bags under eyes of living nightmares and sleeping dreams, lips peeled out of stressing on them and hard, green eyes that have given up on coming back home but still a stare so raw with life Lance says believe in me I’ll save us and Keith just does

(I guess Lance makes true that thing of courage not always roaring, sometimes it only being a matter of trying again tomorrow). 

‘The old gods are dead’ they tell you.

You smile and nod and wipe out another glass. Your eyes dart to the old man in the corner booth. You never see him come, but you always see him leave. Each night a new young lover on his arm.

You pretend not to see his wife watching with jealousy blazing in her eyes and peacock feathers printed on her dress. Her sharpened nails tap, tap, tapping a beat you can hear over the din.

'If they were still around, where are they?’ They continue with a wild wave of their arm. The man next to them looks up and grins and raises his glass at you in a toast and buys them another round. It’s only after he’s turned away you realize his teeth were too sharp and that the glint in his eye was something more than delight.

On the stage a young man sings. He’s there every night with his golden guitar and his golden skin and his golden hair. He sings of love and loss and boys who fly too high, only to fall. You know the song, he plays it almost every night.

His sister stands in the corner, watching, on edge. You keep half an eye on her. She seems constantly in motion yet when you focus, she is still. Last week she broke a man’s arm. You never saw her move.

'The old gods are dead.’ They say with finality.

You look around the room and meet old and tired eyes in hungry faces.

'Maybe,’ you begin and pause as the room seems to go quiet, holding its breath. 'Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.’

-gods never die

i’m not finishing this one

Been thinkin about this game again ❤ It’s been roughly four years since I did this thing over here and it’s absolutely showing its age lol

Tbh I just wanted to draw some fun profiles again, I don’t think I ever actually realized how ~~handsome~~ Barney is, that boi is fine

Day One Hundred and Three

-The first guest of my shift placed their babbling, giggling newborn on my conveyor belt for me to ring up, instantaneously paving the way for a bright and joyous day.

-I became ecstatic to find a roll of fresh, new, spring-themed stickers the size of my face at my register. The sticker renaissance shall now commence.

-I rang up an intimidating biker with a wizardly beard for his purchase of one single Dr. Seuss book. I now consider him a close friend, as I stand by my lifelong belief that not a soul who reads Dr. Seuss can do anything wrong.

-Shortly after the discovery of my spring stickers, I came to the realization that they were, in fact, a heretofore undiscovered strand of Christmas stickers that we had not previously had on hand. I do not understand why we have such a large and untapped stock, but I am prepared to make the most of it.

-A man in his sixties, phenomenally spry and smooth-skinned for his age, purchased forty dollars worth of dried prunes. I believe he may have uncovered the secret to immortality. While I appreciate the scientific progress this man is making, I will embrace whatever final form nature has in store for me so long as I do not have to give up my crunchwrap supremes.

-A mother asked her child if he wanted his shoe back, pulling one single Croc out of her purse. I am not sure what he may have done to lose his shoe privilege in the first place, but I am glad to see that he is earning it back.

-After I gave her a sticker, a mother told her daughter, “Say thank you.” In a brilliant moment of word association, she peacefully replied, “You are welcome.” I consider myself blessed by this small person and will live out my life in bliss.

-I befriended the kindest and most eloquent child named Bennett. We shared a lovely conversation, touching on such topics as how nice our respective names are, his recent go-karting accident, his subsequent recovery, and stickers. I believe I may have found my Best Man.

-A woman in her seventies attempted to run her husband over with her cart, gleefully yelling, “Beep beep beep!” Hopefully, I have just received a glimpse into my future.

-I have adopted a new motto in life, and that motto is as follows: “You have never seen true purity until you have seen an infant in glasses." 

anonymous asked:

Would you want blizz designers to make a hanzo skin with his new look (from the holiday comic)? I think it would be p cool

FAM U KIDDING?>

How terrifying would it be to just see a guy so confident in his skills to murder you that he just shows up late with starbucks after getting his side shave all cleaned up, aiming his bow with one hand bc he Can, head shotting u across the map, then kicking ur corpse off the ledge with his latest Adidas shoes, saying something like “I got out of bed for this? u n a c c e p t a b l e”

Chasing Empty Spaces

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 10/10

Words:  79,028

Summary:

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson. 

“Whoa there, Stud. Don’t want the missus to find out?”

“Not even close,” Harry laughed as he turned back to the mirror and continued to rub the irritated skin. “Got set up on a date and she’s a bit, um, different.”

“Don’t think she’ll like it much if you scrub all that off,” The other man leisurely shrugged.

As the lipstick continued to spread over his skin, Harry whined, “Seeing as how I’m supposed to be on stage soon, that’s the least of my worries.“

He gently scoffed, “Performer, huh?”

Harry glanced over and saw the man take his bandana off with a smirk. He ran the material under the running faucet and put a dollop of soap on it. Turning to face Harry, he expectantly held out the bandana.

“Take it,” He pushed the material closer to Harry. “It’ll work better than whateva you were gonna do.”

“You sure?” Harry hesitantly asked, looking between the soapy bandana and the man’s face.

He rolled his eyes and laughed, “I’d hope so since I already did it. Just take it.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled and he took the bandana, turning back forwards to wash off the remainder of the lipstick.

“Good luck out there,” The man drawled as he walked towards the door.

“Wait, I still have your –” Harry started, but was cut off.

“Keep it,” He looked over his shoulder at Harry and flashed him a quick smile. “Seems like you’ll need it more than me, Stud.”

i had a spare moment so i tried to figure out what my lone wanderer’s parents looked like

So I was looking at YOI screenshots today...

And I made quite an interesting revelation. 

Here we have Viktor Nikiforov. Russian. Pale skin. White as the freshest snow on the highest mountains of Russia. Nipples are a shade or two darker than his skin tone.

Clearly, this man never sees sunlight. 

That’s okay though. We love you and your pale, perky ass anyway, Viktor.

Ok. Now… adversely… 

Christophe Giacometti. Suisse. Fabulous as f-. Skin glowing golden as a ray of fucking sunshine. 

BUT WAIT! 

His nipples, what color are they? 

Pale? Pink? Peach?! I don’t know. All I do know is that clearly, Christophe’s nipples are way way lighter than his skin tone. 

… 

My revelation? 

Christophe Giacometti gets spray/fake tans. 

And I mean, it makes sense. Look at how fabulous this man is. Clearly he would be the type to sip champagne on a Sunday afternoon laid out on a beach chair while air drying a fresh spray tan by the poolside. 

Now… You may be asking yourself: Is this information important? 

No. It absolutely is not. 

But I came to this conclusion while half awake this morning and felt compelled to share it with all you lovely people in the fandom. 

Do with this information what you will. 

Okay so I’ve seen a lot of fanart and fics where aged up Lance has scars on his skin, and man do I dig that aesthetic, but what if it’s the opposite? What if healing pods not only repair injuries to the point where there’s no scarring, but they also repair old damage? Like, say, regenerating tissues and cells to the point where the whole body is like brand new.

The scar that Lance’s sister gave him when he was four? Gone. The old burn he had when he was twelve and touched the stove? Like it was never there in the first place. And siblings fight, and Lance has a lot of siblings, so he’s bound to have many “battle” scars, but they’re wiped away, one by one  — like they were never there, like his past with his family never happened.

So maybe at some point, when he only has so many scars left, Lance starts fearing taking an injury, not because of pain and blood, but because that means another trip to a healing pod. Another mark of his past, proof that he really is a boy from Cuba, washed away like ocean foam. Maybe at some point, even if the injury is severe enough to warrant a visit to the pods, but not quite severe enough that it’d keep Lance from piloting Blue, he denies Coran when he suggests he visit the infirmary. Maybe he wants to heal naturally, welcoming new scars to join the old ones.

Maybe he learns to accept it, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe the birthmark on his hip is one day wiped away, replaced by unblemished tanned skin, and maybe Lance stays up till two crying because there’s so little left of who he used to be. What’s left of him that hasn’t been stomped on by parades of war and sullied with blood, tears and duty?

And maybe, when years have passed and the universe is finally well off that they can return home for a few vargas, maybe… Maybe Lance still looks the same.

Maybe all his visits to the healing pods; being exposed to their magic and quintessence has regenerated him to the point where he still looks exactly the same as he did when they snuck out of the Garrison that one oh so fateful night. Maybe it’s been two years, maybe it’s been ten, but the Paladins all look the same, to the dot, like they’re untouched by time. But Lance’s family doesn’t. His little sister, who used to only reach Lance’s hip, all pigtails and freckles, maybe she’s now tall enough to reach his chest and better at math than Lance will ever be. Maybe she has new scars Lance has never seen or kissed away.

Maybe his mom has worry lines and grey hairs Lance knows she didn’t have when he last saw her, and maybe she talks less than he remembers. Maybe she has to pinch herself when she first sees her son after however many years, because he hasn’t changed a bit. Maybe she breaks into tears at the sight of him, and her hug is just as warm and three times as tight as Lance remembers.

Maybe his siblings give him a new scar to cherish before there’s another planet, another crisis that needs Voltron.

sunsolaire  asked:

Saitama and Genos and cooking!! Maybe Saitama gets back to the apartment after a really bad day or something and he's just met with gorgeous waifu Genos deep into his cooking in the kitchen and the sight of him just makes Saitama go ❤❤❤. Or just saigenos cooking haha

Family’s What You Make Of It

Family’s What You Make Of It | It starts when Dan stumbles through the door of his two bedroom flat with an attractive stranger attached to his mouth, and it ends with, well… a family. Or, the one where Dan is a single father of a three year old, who intends for Phil to be nothing more than a one night stand until he see’s him interact with his daughter for the first time. | Phan | Mature | Smut, self-neglect, implied self-esteem issues, single father Dan | 4,374 Words

Thank you so @phansdick for encouraging me (as always) and then being wonderful and beta’ing for me without me even having to ask ;)

(Ao3 Link)

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i love my freckly short son with thickness and a soft squishy middle