nick sheridan

I’ve been thinking about this, and it’s starting to bug me…

With Cap’s heightened reflexes, he could easily have spun on his heel and grabbed or deflected the glass the second it connected with his pool cue..

Never mind that with both his speed and perception, Superman could easily have caught the glass. Or vaporised it with his heat vision.

Flash, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Power Girl, Rogue.. all of them can move fast enough to stop it.

Both Spiderman and Batman have the instinct and tools to catch it, and if Green Lantern is paying attention he could easily grab it at the speed of thought.

The only explanation is that everyone in this bar has been waiting for something like this, and they’re spoiling for a fight.

Heroes.

4

amazon in the us has made the soundtrack for wind river available for pre-order.  the music is written by australian musicians nick cave and warren ellis. the release will coincide with the us film release of 4th august 2017. a track listing is available on amazon but no album cover artwork as yet.

jeremy renner fans may recall that cave and ellis created the soundtrack for the assassination of jesse james by the coward robert ford and taylor sheridan fans will note they also did the soundtrack for hell or high water

other notable other film compositions include lawless and the road

Late Night Walks (Part 2)

I hit 700!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH, GUYS!!!

This one’s for you.

Fandom: X-men

Pairing: Quicksilver x Reader

Warnings: FLUFFFFFF, maybe some swearing, falling into ponds.

Word count: 3000 (I hope it’s not too long)

Part 1

*********

For a split second, all you could hear was water, the sound of it fizzling, bubbling by and in your ears as you tried to steady your swaying body. Your hands reached out to grasp for thin air, waving wildly in front of you as you splashed about some water, and finally caught hold of something soft and dampened nearby, but it was only seconds later when you heard a muffled screech, and felt a slight tug, that you realized it was Karen. You slowly uncurled your brutal fist, and she quickly swam away in a fit of panicked quacks and feathers, leaving some stuck to the palm of your hand.

Peter, standing right at the edge of the restless pond decorated with little ripples smoothing out, was hunched over with his hands on his knees, staring at you steady yourself. His brown eyes were wide as plates, watching as Karen fled the scene in a fit of wildly flapping her wings and crying out, and toads and all sorts of lizards quickly scurried away from the pond where you sat, now managing to bring yourself to at least sit up straight.

Peter jerked his chin at you.

“You alright?”

Your hair clung to the sides of your head and in the front, drooped over your face in a wet mucky curtain. You grimaced deeply, feeling beyond disgruntles by the situation, and looked down at your hands. They were covered in what seemed to be insect wings and maybe the occasional dead tad-pole, and when you parted all your fingers away from one another, a string of thick sludge was strung between each of them. Your clothes were sticking uncomfortably to your skin, and surrounding you were the three or four lilly-pads you had collected, now scattered back in their original places, almost as if you hadn’t touched them.

You looked up to meet Peter’s brown eyes, face still contorted into a look of disgust. “What do you think?” you spat, looking back down at the upper half of your body that was just barely visible. You tried to get up, feeling the water shift with you as you did so, when all of a sudden—

“Jesus, Y/N.”

Your head piped up, only to find Peter barely managing to stand on his two feet as a fit of laughter consumed him.

“You should’ve seen your face!” he exclaimed as he swayed from side to, clutching at his stomach. You could see dimples begin to ingrain themselves into his cheeks, color flushing his face as he managed to move over to the tree, and lean back against it, letting his head fall back.

“Y-you, you were…I mean, y—you were j-just…” Peter tried to form coherent sentences, but it was no use—he was howling with laughter, barely managing to even breathe.

And you didn’t like that.

“Oh, so this is funny to you?” you yelled over his incessant chuckles that eventually dissolved into nothing but him clasping his stomach and leaning his head back, mouth open, but no sounds coming out.

You, however, remained fuming, as you bitterly crossed the pond in slow wades, and tried to get out.

Your hands caught onto the grass above you, and you managed to haul yourself up, your body pressed hard against the sturdy ground. You didn’t even bother thinking Peter would help, for he was to busy gasping for air. You turned your head to him and glared spitefully. You were seething—furious over what had just happened.

You dusted of the knees of your leggings, letting the pieces of grass formerly on them fall to the ground, and then straightened out. When you did, your eyes immediately locked with Peters. He peered down at you, head still tilted back against the tree, the rising sun lighting up the side of his face and neck. You couldn’t help it—your eyes darted a few inches lower, to his neck; stretched out, exposed, with the sun’s rays lighting up its pale white surface. You licked your lips, trying to sated your desire to plunge your lips onto his neck, when—

“Like what you see?”

You quickly looked up, finding Peter smiling smugly at you.

A scoff broke past your lips.

“Not even the slightest.” You quickly changed the topic, stretching your hand out to the side at the mass of water beside you. “You were about to let me drown.”

Peter’s eyes followed your movement, before returning back to your face, his shit-eating grin re-surfacing. He laughed, bemused.

“In a pond?” his head left the hard oak as he leaned forward, shoulders lifting with each laugh.

You narrowed your eyes viciously. “That’s not the point. It wasn’t funny.”

“Oh, yes it was.” Peter declared.

“You know what,” you scoffed, and began to tread closer to him. Too pre-occupied with peter, however, you didn’t notice the light in one of the bedrooms back at the house flickering on in the distance.

You were but a few feet away from Peter, and lifted your hand, poking him hard in the chest. He fell back against the tree with an oomph.

You lay your palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath it, and looked up at him with a menacing grin.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

“What does that me—”

But before Peter could finish, your hands firmly gripped onto the collar of his jacket, and, with all your force, you yanked him away from the tall tree, and swung him into the water.

He landed with a splash twice as loud as yours.

You jumped back to avoid getting any more water on you, and watched as the silver-haired boy floundered around in the water for a few seconds before finally grounding himself.

You let out a snicker of triumph when you saw Peter emerging from beneath the water a few seconds later.

His signature goggles were now slung around his neck instead of his head, and his silver hair shielded him from catching you giggling rampantly by the tree.

“You alright?” you mocked, your joy evident in your tone.

Peter shook his hands at his sides, trying to rid them of the slime they held, and looked up at you.  He looked angry for a split second, but that was shortlived.

A grin broke out onto his face.

“Tooche.” He smiled.

You peered from ear to ear as you went to help him out of the water, stretching out your hand. He probably didn’t need it, but took it anyway, letting you pull him up.

The two of you took a few steps away from the pond—past the oak tree—and decided to begin your walk back to the house, letting the remnants of your laughs fade into nothing.

Your laughter slowed to an almost dissolved giggle as you walked beside Peter, head lifted up as you smiled at the sky. You then looked down at Peter holding his jacket in one hand while the other was busy drying his air, his head bent forward. You were about to say something to him, but instead, your attention was instead caught by the sun rising right behind him, casting an orange glow over the green of the garden. You watched it and smiled softly, your eyes slowly returning to the boy in front of you.

You watched as he shook a hand violently in his hair, sending droplets of water flying onto your cold skin. You could feel them, but said nothing. Instead, Peter took the floor.

“You little minx,” he chuckled, pushing back a few strands of silver that had fallen in his face. By now he had straightened out, and was merely running his fingers through his hair, combing it back.

You slowed to a stop when you noticed Peter lagging behind, and turned around, your entire face engulfed by a simper.

You shrugged. “Fair’s fair.”

The silver-haired boy caught up with you in two long strides, smiling down at you as finally let his hand drop from his hair. He came closer—the two of you were but a few feet apart.

“I’ve got to hand it to you: that was brilliant.” Peter chuckled, and you could feel the sound reverberate in your bones, even from where you stood.

You looked up at him—into his eyes, and before you knew it, you were back to where you were at the pond.

Lost.

Lost in his eyes—in him, in your desire to so badly be with him. Without a second thought, you began to inch closer and closer to Peter, eyes never leaving his, until you were flush against him once more. Your hand swings ever so slightly by your side, cold, wet by the droplets of water Peter shook onto you. He looks down at you, and the playful dimples that dug into his cheeks are now gone. His face is adamant, focused, much like ti was before. And from that, you can tell, just as bad as you do, he wants nothing more than to kiss.

Your hand feels heavy as you move to caress the silver mop atop his head, ruffling it slightly.

“Guess you’re not as fast as you think you are.” you all but whisper, feeling him tense at the touch of your fingers.

His hair is back in front of his face, pieces of silver cutting through brown brown eyes that stare intently at you. There’s a moment of silence, and you can feel the sun rising in the distance, spreading its infectious glow onto the two of you more and more. It’s ushering you back into the house, telling you to return to your rooms as if nothing ever happened, to move, quick, before Hank or Raven comes out and finds out that you escaped.

But Peter doesn’t listen.

And before you know it, his calloused hands are on your neck, and his lips are pressed flat against yours.

And he’s kissing you.

His jacket drops to the dampened grass as his left hand joins the other on your neck, both of them pulling you closer, your teeth clattering together at the point where your lips meet.

You can’t help it. You smile into the kiss.

Your hand slides down from Peter’s hair, just to the nape of his neck, where you play with the loose grey curls that slip like water through your fingers. Your tongue darts out from behind your plush lips, nicking at the entrance of Peter’s, and he glad welcomes it.

“Peter,” your voice comes out hot, fanning over his face.

He merely groaned in response, and pulled you closer so that you were intertwined, molded, much like your lips were.  You’re barely managing to get any air in, but that doesn’t matter—you kissed Peter like he was the one filling your lungs with air, rather than stealing it from you.

And all you could think, was that you were kissing him.

And he was kissing you.

He was devouring your mouth, your jaw, peppering light butterfly kisses all along the outline of your neck and down to the collar of your wet shirt that clung desperately to your skin as did the silver-haired boy. His lips were back on your in less than a second, and Peter continued to knick at your bottom lip with his teeth, hands digging into your skin as they traveled to rest on the small of your back.

He clamped them around you, caging you to his soaked body as he began to slow his movements. Peter was fast in everything he did, but with this, he wanted to take his time. He’d waited too long to do this—to feel you this way, to hold this way. He wasn’t willing to let it pass in a fleeting moment of his desire. He would take things slow.

You felt him pull away slowly, lips still puckered, as he looked down at you through half lidded eyes. The corner’s of his mouth twitched up into a grin and he chuckled.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” He chuckled, and you could feel it all the way in your chest.

You grinned, beaming.

“Me to—“

“Y/N!”

You and Peter both turned around at the sound Charles’ voice cutting through the silent air.

Your y/e/c eyes widened once you saw him and Hank approaching the two of you, Logan but a few feet behind, rubbing at his eyes with obvious exhaustion. They were still dressed in their pajamas, and that was big enough of a giveaway that they’d just woken up,

You turned to Peter, who looked just as terrified as you, and then turned back.
“What in the world are you doing out here?” Charles’ voice came out labored, almost as if he had been wheeling himself up a hill, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“We, uh—“ you turned to Peter, who  was already at your side. His eyes widened, and he shrugged, just as lost for words.

You turned back to Charles. “What are you doing out here?”

“We heard shouts from somewhere down by the pond.” Replied Hank as the trio came to a halt in front of you. You looked at Logan, and instantly wished you hadn’t. He looked as though he was ready to skin the two of you.

“We’re fine.” You said, glancing back and forth between Peter and the three men in front of you. Your eyes stopped on Charles. “Really.”

“What was all that ruckus then?” He asked.

You looked to Peter, hoping he’d have this one.

“And what is that smell?” the older man grimaced deeply, sniffing the air profusely.

“It was, uhm…” Peter’s eyes never left yours as he tried to stifle the laughter within him.

He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and nodded “It was the birds, back at the pond. Yeah.”

Peter finished his statement with a nod, finally looking to the professor.

“Y-yes.” You agreed, mirroring him and turning your attention to Charles. “B-birds.”

“Karen and her friends, they get up pretty early.” Peter added, and by now, his entire confident demeanor had returned.

Charles’ brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up at hank, then back at the two of you.

“K-karen?”

“She’s one of the birds at the pond. Peter’s favorite.” You supplemented, hearing an affirmative hum from Peter as he nodded.

“She’s not like the other birds.”

There was a beat of silence, as the three men just stared at the two of you, bewildered. You craned your neck to look at Peter, who looked like he was holding down yet another fit of laughter, and nudged him in the gut with your elbow.

Turning back to Charles, you nodded your head.

“We took care of it. Here,” you said, digging in your pockets to retrieve a few of Karen’s feathers from earlier.

Charles took them from you, inspecting them intensely, and then looked back up at you. His gaze shifted from you, to Peter, and then back to you, but before he could say anything, Logan finally spoke up.

“Well let’s get back to the house then, shall we?”

As soon as he said this, the tension once present was eased.

Charles nodded, pocketing the feathers in his robe. “Alright then.”

He cleared his throat, glancing up at hank. The brown haired boy merely shrugged.

Logan had already began walking back, and in a moment, the two men followed suit, leaving you and Peter but a few feet behind.

“C’mon, it’s almost breakfast.” Hank called when he noticed this, and you nodded.

“We’ll be there in a bit.” You shouted back, smiling politely. The brown-haired boy nodded, and turned his back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief, and then turned around, looking for Peter who had gone to pick up his jacket he’d dropped minutes earlier. Now that Charles and his entourage were gone, it was just the two of you.

You felt a beat of nervousness begin to rise within you. Peter was walking back already, a grin playing at his lips and his contained laughter finally spilling from him.

“Well that was close.” He chuckled, tossing his silver jacket over his shoulder. You couldn’t help but laugh as well despite yourself.

“Yeah,” you raised your brow, “I guess Karen isn’t so bad after all.”

“She saved your ass!” Peter declared, causing you to roll your eyes.

Our asses.” You shoved his shoulder, and he moved a little, only to bounce back even closer.

You knew he had done that on purpose.

Silence once again washed over you, but Peter managed to break it. He looked down at you and smiled.

“So,…” he drew out, bouncing on his heels in a childlike manner. “Are we gonna pick up where we left off? I vote we do.”

You laughed, and leaned in, peppering a brief kiss on his lips. When you pulled back, you found Peter frowning.

“I recall it being much deeper than that.” He teased once you pulled back, and quickly went to wrap his arms around your shoulders. You let out a soft giggle, and he nuzzled his nose into your damp hair.

“You really do stink.” Peter stated as the two of you begin to walk back to the house.

You threw your head back and looked up at him, grinning. “Oh, yeah, and you smell divine.

He merely chuckled, and bent down to place a light kiss on your lips.

“I know I do.”

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BREAD OR ALIVE

“omg im crying, my dad came in to see if I was okay” -Times Magazine ★★★★★

“I-I was not expecting that” -NY TIMES ★★★★★

“that was cool and weird- i can’t wrap my head around that” -Rolling Stone ★★★★