solid noses

fall out nose

andys nose. a solid nose. has seen (smelt?) many things in its time. a knowing nose. this nose knows more than me 10/10 very wise

joes nose. the most prominent nose. very famous. Handsomb and Stronge . very iconic 10/10

Paterick, a complex but beautiful nose . elegant bridge and cute nostrils. very lovely. 10/10

i lovbe peter nose .simple and easy to draw . a solid nose with no imperfections 10/10

givenchy & gold, part i (m.)

;pairing — jungkook/reader

;warnings — sex | implied exhibitionism | mild dom/sub tones | if u’ve got a praise kink then ur gonna love this | mentions of daddy kinks | instances of spanking 

;summary — you’re the supervisor of the clothing department with a lot of useless lingerie knowledge, jungkook is the jewelry department’s defiant hot boy who flirts in wristwatch brands. basically an upscale retail au, but with lots of implied under-the-counter sex. and when an opportunity presents itself to fuck each other in the boss’s office after hours, you’re both too hot for each other to say no.

;word count — 20k im so sorry

part i | part ii

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1/7/2017-1/9/2017 Soup-Nose The Goat has some swelling under her jaw. We suspect bottlejaw (fluid retention caused by anemia). Anemia in goats is usually a parasite issue, so we wormed her, and I drove to the hippie feed store and bought some of the fancy organic sweetfeed to try and convince her to eat a bunch of delicious nutrition. Even Soup Nose’s Olympic-class food fussiness is no match for sweetfeed.

Sweetfeed is made of corn, molasses, oats, various trace vitamins, and tiny shavings from a shining blue meteor that landed in the Darkhad Valley in Mongolia in 1953. The workers who harvest the meteor cover their ears so they can’t hear it singing to them.

Sweetfeed smells amazing. I have genuinely considered cooking it like oatmeal and eating it myself. My google history is full of searches for cornflake and molasses cookies, gingerbread cornmeal cookies, something, anything. Internet forums are thronged with people wondering how to make moonshine out of it. It smells like molasses and raisins and cornbread and coming home to the family you never knew you had after a long time wandering in the dusty dark between worlds.

We have to keep a brick on top of the bin with sweetfeed in it, because otherwise the feral cats sneak into the barn and eat it. 

The cats try to eat goat food.

(Seriously. I tell a lot of lies on this blog. That is not one of the lies. It’s uncanny stuff.

Also, if you know any recipes that involve molasses and cornflakes, please send them to me, the smell is driving me mad.)


Teach Me.

Warnings - angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of abuse (both mental and physical).

It was no secret that Bucky Barnes was a shell of a man, distanced from the new and foreign sense of reality he had come to know. The man himself was shy, very reserved, and somewhat lost with himself, he had distanced himself from life afraid, afraid that he would slip from his humanity and hurt someone by accident. And he didn’t want to hurt anybody, no one.

Steve knew the troubles and struggle of adjusting to a world far more advanced than what they remembered. And the team had attempted to ease the super solider into life, walks around the city, showing him the new technology and teaching him how to use it. Despite this, Steve knew that Bucky needed a push in another direction.

Down the street from The Avengers Tower stood a gym, it was kitted out with the latest equipment and all of the staff and members were amazingly kind and helpful with anything. So, Steve pulled some strings and managed to get clearance for Bucky to teach a self-defence class. And Bucky saw the good in it, remembering the atrocities he had committed, he thought it was only fair to do what he could to help people.

On the first day, Bucky was extremely nervous, the most interaction he had with anyone besides the team was the guy who ran the coffee shop down the street, even then the interaction was limited. Although, he felt oddly calm in knowing that both Steve and Sam were there by his side in support. The room contained a small group of people, a mixture of men and women, and Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes gravitate toward her. A woman who always returned his pleasant greetings when he said hello and gave her a warm smile, a woman who always offered to help him with workouts if he needed it, Steve hadn’t seen her in awhile. Sam also noticed her, how her dull eyes scanned the room and she looked down, her arms hugging her chest; he always bumped into her in the line in the cafe by the park, she always ordered the same thing and offered a kind smile each time they passed one another. But even he could see the obvious discomfort distorting her features, her body stood rigid and she looked paranoid, scared even. The woman stuck to the back of the class, watching carefully as Bucky demonstrated moves on volunteers but not wanting to get involved too much.

Once the class had ended, the woman grabbed her gym bag and pulled her sleeves further down, as if to conceal something. Dark strands of hair fell over her face as she quickly pushed them back in place as she headed for the exit, her lips turned downward and her eyebrows tensed, “Hey Lyla,” Steve called out to her, watching her freeze before turning back to face him, sighing as he beckoned her over to the trio of bandits. Sam watched her closely, how her blue orbs scanned the room before she decided to head over to them, “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Steve stated as he looked down on her, noting her behaviour on the notepad in his brain.

Lyla shrugged, pulling the strap of her bag further up to sit on her shoulder, “Oh you know how things can be, work is pretty demanding,” she brushed off the situation with a tight lipped smile, her loose ponytail falling over her collarbone as her head moved from side to side.

Steve frowned, not believing a word she was saying, “Alright,” he said, earning a glare from Sam which he returned with a look of his own, “Lyla, this is Bucky, my best friend,” he paused as he turned to Bucky who wiped his forehead with a towel, “Bucky, this is Lyla, a friend of ours,” he motioned between Sam and himself with a grin.

Steve knew how shy Lyla was, almost as shy as Bucky in some ways, but despite her height it was clear that she possessed a large heart and a body full of compassion, “It’s nice to meet you,” Bucky told her, surprising himself by how easy the words left his lips.

Lyla nodded gratefully and felt her lips pull upward slightly as she looked toward the glass door, her expression dropping as she did, Steve followed her eyeline and found a man stood there, his arms folded over his chest and narrowed orbs focused in on her, “I’m sorry guys, I have to go,” she told the trio quickly as she hurried out of the room toward the man that neither Steve nor Sam could place in their minds. The man clenched his fists as she approached him, the trio couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, but judging the way she shrank when his lips moved, they knew it wasn’t good.

Sam sighed as he watched you and the mysterious man walk away, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sam asked Steve, his eyes glued to the two retreating figure, watching Lyla snatch away from his reaching hands.

Steve nodded, “Thinking what?” Bucky inquired with confusion, looking between the two males in the empty room.

The pair shared a look before turning to Bucky, “Lyla doesn’t wear hoodies in the gym, Buck, never,” Steve stated, his eyes filled with worry, “Lyla has always worn a smile, she’s never been so reserved, she’s shy but she loves to get involved with things, loves to be challenged,” he paused, “Plus, since I’ve been going here, Lyla has always come to the gym every Thursday night, not even work could stop that, this place gives her some time to herself.”

Sam cleared his throat, “Every night at 6pm she goes to the cafe down the street, always orders the same drink and sits in the booth by the window with a book in her hand, she hasn’t done that for weeks,” he told them, his arms folded over his chest as he looked at the place where she once stood.

Bucky frowned, suddenly feeling angry, furious even, “Why? I mean, why has she just stopped doing stuff?”

The blonde haired super solider pinched his nose and took a deep breath, “I think we’re asking the wrong questions,” he muttered, “What we need to find out is who that man was, because I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

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Ocelot: Talk dirty to me ;^))

Big Boss: You ejected the first bullet by hand, didn’t you? I see what you were trying to do, but testing a technique you’ve only heard about in the middle of battle wasn’t very smart. You were asking to have your gun jam on you. Besides, I don’t think you’re cut out for an automatic in the first place; you tend to twist your elbow a little to absorb the recoil. That’s more of a revolver technique. 

Ocelot: haha then what? ;^)

The first thing i painted with the new acrylics i got is my dude Aizawa Shouta

bad things (i.)

“Hit me,” Kenny said.

There weren’t many things that took Craig by surprise. But on that particular day, those two words were an exception. He blinked automatically.  Kenny chuckled. 

“Come on dude, hit me. Just lay one on me, right here, on my jaw.”

“What?” Craig asked, quite confused. “Why?“

“I wanna see how good of a fighter you are.”

Craig was walking a thin line between telling Kenny to cut the bullshit and actually punching the shit out of him.

“Am I in Fight Club?“

Kenny shook his head and began to unzip his jacket. “Nah, this is better.” He flung it over the railing and rolled up his t-shirt sleeves. “In the sense that I’m hotter than Brad Pitt and there aren’t really any rules to this.“

"So wait. You want me to punch you in the face?” Craig asked, as if, for some reason, he was just not catching the drift.

“Sure, why not.” Kenny grinned, his breath coming out in a grey mist from the cold. “If that’s what you’re feeling at the moment, go for it.”

“And…you’re totally okay with this?”

Kenny rose his brows in disbelief. “Are you really asking me for permission? Really? I said GO FOR IT, YOU FUCKING BABY.“

A little nerve was tugged Craig balled up his hand into a fist. This kid can’t be serious, he thought. But a part of him was kind of hoping he was because god knows how good it’d feel to sock him. Especially when he was grinning at him like that.

His hand twitched uncertainly by his side.

"Aw poor Craig is feeling pressured.” Kenny pouted childishly. “Is the pressure too much for little Tucker?“

Craig’s nails dug deep into his skin.

"Mhmm. Maybe you can’t even throw a decent punch. Maybe you don’t know how to!” Kenny gasped letting his lips fall into that devious smile again. “OR MAYBE YOU’RE JUST A LITTLE BI-“

And Kenny was cut off immediately from the full blow of Craig’s fist to his mouth. He stumbled backwards losing his balance and falling hard against the metal railing. There were loud gasps from the underclassmen surrounding them, followed by a string of “oooooo’s”.

Kenny regained his vision quickly and spat into his hand, marveling at the dark liquid staining his palm. He brushed his fingers along his teeth and was relieved to feel they were all still intact. But a huge grin began to spread across his cut up lips. He looked back up at Craig who was looking down at him sort of triumphantly and satisfied.

“How do ya feel?” Kenny asked, wiping his bloody hand on his shirt. Craig shrugged, staring at his fist with awe. He muttered something along the lines of “Pretty good I think” before Kenny cut him off with a good solid blow to his nose. Another chain of “oooo’s" broke out and before long the students began egging them on. Craig was quick to respond, picking himself from his awkward fall and shoving Kenny hard against the railing, taking that chance to knee him in the stomach a couple times. Kenny managed to trip him down and suddenly there were fists landing everywhere. And there were cheers and shouts, some encouraging the fight, others yelling for security to come.

Craig ignored all of this. All he felt was Kenny’s fist colliding roughly with his ribs, chest, face, and arms. But somehow it felt…thrilling. It felt exciting. The roughness was challenging, something Craig rarely experienced. It was as if they were fighting to the death. And and one point he was almost sure that he was going to pass out unconscious and wake up in a hospital bed. But the adrenaline was there and that made all the consequences worth shit. The sight of his own blood didn’t terrify him. Shit, at that point he couldn’t even distinguish his own blood from Kenny’s. It was hard to tell who was winning, even though Craig knew damn well he was getting in some good hits.

But did it even matter?


The next thing Craig knew, Kenny was being pulled off him and they were both being dragged up from the floor. The underclassmen had a mix look of horror and wonder in their faces, like they were both some beings from outer space. The security guys held them back like wild beasts posing a threat.

Craig couldn’t feel his own goddamn face. 

He looked over at Kenny who was trying to catch his breath.Amidst everything, he still smiled. He looked at Craig and let out a broken laugh. “What did we do wrong?“

Craig looked around the stadium and noticed they had become the main attraction. He could spot the football players, more so Clyde, glancing up with shock and confusion as well as the cheerleaders and the coaches. They all looked around him like he was at the center of a crime scene. Craig looked at Kenny and began to smile as much as his sore face would let him.

He was catching his drift now.

Kenny mouthed the same words again. “What did we do wrong?”

Craig responded with how he felt at that moment. “Nothing at all.

Cats and Dogs

Here is my first entry for Juju’s Fluffy Birthday Challenge @jared-padaloveme, for prompt #11.  The cat (Jake) is based off my cat (see cute picture below), and the dog (Barney) is based off my parents’ dog.  The interaction between them in this story is exactly how things go in real life! :)

Summary: You and your cat meet Sam and his dog at the pet store.

warnings: fluffy Sam, dog and cat fighting

word count: ~1200

Originally posted by hunterchesters

You cooed at your kitty in his carrier as you walked into the pet store.  Your cat wasn’t a very outgoing animal – you knew that he hated being out of the house or around strangers in general – but since you were on your way home from the vet you thought he could come in with you while you bought his food and some new toys.

Yes, your cat was spoiled, but he was your baby and you would be damned if you didn’t buy him a new toy or two (or three) every time you stopped at the pet store.

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Bad Timing - Tim Drake x Reader

Prompt: Could you please write a prompt where Tim and the reader are bestfriends and vigilantes, they get kidnapped, manage to escape only for the reader to get injured and almost die which makes Tim realize he likes the reader?? Lots of fluff at the end?

Tim ran harder than he had ever in his life. All that consumed his mind was finding you. You were in trouble and if he didn’t get there fast enough … he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to forgive himself if something happened to you.

He was careless. He burst through the door where they were holding you hostage without a second thought. He should have been more careful, he should have thought this through. He was just so desperate to you out of here.

Tim took out anyone who stood in his way and he fought his way through the compound. He burst through the door at the end of a long hallway to find you chained to a chair anchored to the floor. A man leered over you with a tray full of bloodied instruments.

Tim saw red and lunged at the torturer. He kicked the back of his knees and grabbed him by the neck before smashing him against the wall.

“What are you going to do? Kill me?” He laughed maniacally. Tim glared and gripped the man’s neck tighter. It would be so easy to end him right here for what he did to you.

“You’re going to wish I killed you.” Tim threatened. This only caused the torturer to laugh harder. He looked over Tim’s shoulder and grinned.

“I don’t think your girl can wait that long.” He laughed. “I think you need to get your priorities straight, mate.” He smiled. Tim couldn’t stand the look on his face and landed a solid punch to his nose, the bones breaking underneath his fist. He collapsed onto the ground holding his bloody nose and started laughing. Tim couldn’t stand to look at him without wanting to murder him so he turned and ran to your side.

You were unconscious and horrifically battered. He made quick work of your binds and you fell slumped into his arms. Tim scooped you up into his arms, careful not to aggravated any of your wounds too much.

“Don’t worry [Y/N], I’m going to get you out of here.” He told you. You could only moan in response to your pain.

“I wouldn’t count on it, mate” Your torturer laughed. Tim wanted to kick him in the face on his way out but he had more important things now. He needed to get you help. With how pale you looked, Tim didn’t know how long you could go without medical help.

“Stay with me [Y/N].” Tim pleaded as he rushed you back to the Batcave.

“Tim.” You moaned weakly.

“I’m here [Y/N]. I’m going to get you help, alright? You’re going to get through this.” He said. He didn’t know who he was trying to convince more.

“Tim if I don’t make -” You started before you started coughing painfully.

“Don’t say that [Y/N].” Tim begged. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that you might …

“Please Tim I need you to know,” You choked out. “I love you Tim. I’m sorry we never had the chance …” You trailed off. Your eyes started to slip closed in your exhaustion.

“Hold on for just a little while longer, [Y/N]! We’re almost there. Don’t close your eyes [Y/N].” Tim demanded gripping your hand tightly, hoping that his hold would anchor you here just long enough for him to get you to safety. “Just keep talking to me, [Y/N].”

“I know this is probably … a really shitty time … but do you …?”

“I do love you, I’ve always loved you.” Tim supplied, thinking he knew where your question was heading. He didn’t realize it until that moment but he always thought of you as more than just a friend. He hated that it took you dying in his arms to finally realize it.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go to that new sushi place but I’ll take that too.” You joked weakly.

“I’ll take you there on a date as soon as you get better. A real date.” Tim promised.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

anonymous asked:

"I've never done this before."

Yuri shivers as Otabek’s hands come up to grip his sides. He’s feeling a mix of trepidation and excited anticipation. 

“I haven’t either, Yura.” Otabek’s voice sounds calm but there’s just a hint of breathlessness. “We’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” 

“I know.” Yuri breathes, as Otabek’s grip tightens right below his ribs and he feels himself being lifted. 

There’s a moment where he forgets to breathe, then he feels himself lowering; sliding down Otabek’s solid chest until their noses are level. 

They stay like that for a moment, breathing each other’s air, and Yuri almost forgets himself; leaning closer until their lips are a hair’s breadth from pressing together. 

Raucous applause startle him back into the real world, breaking them both apart, and Otabek grabs Yuri’s hand to keep him from falling to the ice. 

Victor is skating hastily toward them still clapping. “Amazing! Almost as much chemistry as a real pair skating couple!” 

Yuri bites his tongue to stop a sharp comment, and looks from Otabek’s steady gaze to where their fingers are twined together. 

 Yeah, he thinks, almost. 

Time For A Wedding!



Dean looked at his phone as it chimed. “Excuse me,” he said, turning away from the scantily-clad grad-school waitress.

The message was from Sam—an address.

Dean placed some cash on the table and went out to the Impala. He thought about calling you, but he figured Sam had also messaged you. After all, the two of you were closer than Dean and you.

Pulling up to the address, Dean found a church before him. Strange, but not unusual for Vegas or the Winchesters. He glanced around before slipping into his suit. Hand on his gun, Dean entered the church.

“Dean!” Sam approached him, pulling the gun from Dean’s hand. “Come on.” Sam pulled his brother down the aisle and placed him at the front of the room.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, looking at the two other people seated in the chapel. Were they demons? And where were you?

Sam said nothing as he pinned a flower to Dean’s jacket.

“What’s this?”

“Pink is for loyalty,” Sam said.

While that answer didn’t really tell Dean anything, he moved past it. Every fiber of his being was on high-alert. “So, what? We’re wedding crashers? Looking for a siren?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Sam shifted slightly. “Um… okay, a little sudden, but life is short, so I’ll keep this shorter. I’m in love. And I’m getting married.”

This surprised Dean. Sure, he knew you and Sam were in a nice relationship and the two of you truly cared for each other. But marriage? Really?

“Say something,” Sam said. “Like… congratulations?”


At that moment the horrible synthesizer started playing the opening chords of the wedding march. Sam and Dean turned their attention to the doors. A figure in a large white wedding dress stood, an even larger white veil covering their face.

Dean couldn’t help but think that you looked kind of pretty in the dress (though he did wonder where you got it from… it looked expensive). Glancing up at Sam, he saw his brother’s face light up with a huge smile.

Maybe this was for the best.

You approached the two and Sam carefully lifted the veil. Dean couldn’t help but think that something was… off.

Off it was.

When the veil was lifted, it wasn’t your face Dean saw under it.

It was…

“Becky?” he asked, incredibly confused.

The wedding was typical Vegas style—fast. Dean was still trying to figure out what the hell was happening and missed his opportunity to declare a reason as to why these two should not be married. He stood, dumbfounded, as Becky and Sam kissed, solidifying the marriage.

Dean watched as they took two chairs, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. The only thing Dean could think of was where were you?!

Dean tried to think of a question to ask the ‘happy’ couple. Words were tumbling around in his mind. “What the hell happened?” he finally said. “How did this happen?”

“We met… talked… fell in love,” Sam said with a smile.

“Right. Of course. What about Y/N?”

“What about her?”

‘Not good,’ Dean thought. He wondered if the two of you had had a fight he didn’t know about. But even if that was the case, Sam looked completely sober. This wasn’t a drunken mistake. “Forget it. What about the average lifespan of your hookups?”

“That’s why I’m the best choice!” Becky said. “I know all about it. I’ve read all the books.”

Dean sighed. He’d almost forgotten about those damn books Chuck had written. But books didn’t mean anything compared to the actual time you’d spent with Sam. You knew more about his life than Becky. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Dean,” Sam chided.

“Look, did you at least–”

“He checked,” Becky interrupted (Dean was really starting to hate that). “Salt, holy water, everything. I’m not a monster.” She held out her arm, showing a fresh scab over a knife wound on her arm. “Just the right girl for your brother.”

‘No,’ Dean thought. ‘The right girl is Y/N.’


With a scowl on his face, Dean watched as his brother drove off with Becky. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Dean, for the last time, I don’t want to help you hit on women at the bar.”

“Not what I’m calling about this time. Have you talked to Sam recently?”

“No. Why?”

“Are you two in a fight?”

“No. Did he tell you we were?”

“Not in so many words. But something’s… happened.”

“Excuse me? Now is not the time to be cryptic, Dean. What happened?”

“Are you at the hotel?”


“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”


“Becky?” you spat. “He… he married Becky?”

“Look, I know it’s weird, but–”

“I’m gonna kill her. And him. Her first, though. Make her suffer and make him watch.” You crossed to your bag and pulled out your blade.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean said, grabbing your wrist. “I know you’re upset. Trust me, I don’t like this any more than you do. But we need to think this through.”

“I’ve thought it through. And I want to drive my knife through her skull.”

“Look, we need to figure out what’s happening,” Dean pried the knife from your hand. “I agree, something’s up with this. But we need to understand it before we try to fix it.”

You ripped your wrist from Dean’s grasp. He saw your expression change from anger to hurt. Your jaw remained clenched, your fists balled.

“We’ll get him back, Y/N. Promise.”


To keep you occupied, Dean had you searching for cases. You stumbled upon a streak of people who had big breaks whose bodies then broke (via truck and baseball fast pitch). Dean swung by a store and picked up the first household item he found before the two of you drove off.

Sam answered the door. “Dean?”

“I’m trying to be supportive,” Dean said, holding the waffle iron out. “So… we good?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” Sam looked behind Dean. “Y/N?”

You said nothing, just narrowed your eyes.

“Look,” Dean said, pushing past his brother. “We found a case. Guys who get a sudden turn of good luck then get killed. We’re thinking–”

“Could be a cursed object,” Becky said. Sam brushed past his brother into the back room where Becky stood pacing, a board of news articles and maps and pictures behind her.

“You’re… working the case with her?” Dean asked incredulously. He heard you growl behind him, but Dean held you back, keeping you behind him. As hot as girl fights could be, and as much as he wanted to see you pummel Becky, now was not the time.

Becky also apparently heard your growl as the smallest wave of fear crossed her face. “I don’t know why you’re so against this, Dean. Can’t you believe that we’re happy?”

“No! People’s dreams are coming true.” Dean turned to his brother, hitching a thumb toward Becky. “Doesn’t this seem a little coincidental?”

“What Becky and I have is real,” Sam said. “And if you can’t accept that… either of you,” he noted, looking at you. “That’s your problem. Not ours.”


“I went after her, Dean. Maybe that’s what’s bugging you. That I’m moving on. I don’t need you anymore in my life. That I–”

Before Dean could stop you, you ran forward, landing a solid punch to Sam’s nose. You stood there, seething, while everyone else just stared in horror. Then you brushed past Dean and headed outside.

“Nice,” Dean said, turning to follow you. “Just remember Sam. We’ve been here a lot longer than her.”


“That was quite the punch,” Dean said, leaning against the car next to you.

“I’m sorry. I just… couldn’t hold back anymore.”

“Well, it’s better you punched Sam instead of Becky. And who knows, maybe you knocked some screws loose in him and he’ll come to his senses.”

You shook your head. “I can’t do this, Dean. I can’t work this case.”

“You have to, Y/N. You can’t mope around in the hotel all day.” Dean reached down, taking your hand in his. The knuckles were bruised slightly. “Come on. Let’s fix up this mitt and call Bobby.”


Things were finally starting to make sense. But that didn’t mean you had to help Becky out of her mess.

You stayed outside, leaning against the car. Reunions… what a stupid practice. Why would anyone want to go to a party with all those stupid people you’d gone to high school with?

At that moment, Becky ran outside, screaming. “Y/N! Y/N, come quick! It’s Sam!”

You hated yourself to following her request, but… Sam. You ran in after her, finding a terrible scene. Neither Winchester was having any luck with anything.

You crept forward and grabbed Dean’s blade, driving it into the back of the guy who was force-choking Sam.

“Y-Y/N?” Sam stammered.

“Sam!” Becky cried. “You’re okay.”

The amount of effort it took to not drive the blade into Becky was astounding.

“Well, well, well,” Crowley said, appearing from the shadows. “What’s this?”

“You’re Crowley!” Becky said with glee.

“If you don’t shut your pie hole, I’m gonna stitch it shut for you,” you said.


You watched as Sam signed his name on the annulment papers before sliding them to Becky. She looked up with sad eyes.

“It wasn’t all bad, right?”

You let out another growl, but Sam held his hand up to you. The two of you still had a lot to work on (you weren’t blaming him for being put under a love spell, but you still held a little resentment and hurt… rightly so. And he still remembered the connection your fist had made with his nose) but you still held back at his signal.

“You did… save my life,” Sam said. “So for that… thanks.”

“So I’ll see you again?” Becky asked, hopefully.

“Hell no.”

“Probably not,” Sam said over you.

Becky’s shoulders sank, but she reached forward and signed the document.

The Winchesters headed out, but Becky stopped you. “Y/N… can I talk to you for a second?”

The brothers looked as if they wanted to stay. They didn’t know if they could trust you alone with Becky.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Dean stepped over to you, holding his hand out. Sighing, you put your gun in his grasp.

“And the knife.”

With a roll of your eyes, you handed over your knife. Once the brothers left, you turned back to Becky.

“Listen… I just… I hope you aren’t too mad at me…”

“Becky, you can’t expect me to be okay with what you did.”

“I know. It was wrong. But Sam is just so…”

“I know.” You shook your head. “Look. I still kind of want to punch you in the face, but… as long as you promise to never try and contact us again… I’ll leave without giving you a black eye.”

Becky twitched like a nervous Chihuahua, but she nodded. “Right. Right, of course. Again, I’m sorry.”


“Do we need to call her an ambulance?” Dean asked as you stepped up to the car.

“You do know I can control my anger, right?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Sam said. “You know I would never toy with the idea of marrying Becky in my own right mind, right?”

“I know, Sam.”

“And I want you to know, we never did anything. I mean, she did tie me to the bed, but that was because she didn’t want me to run away.”

You and Dean shared a look.

“Sam, there’s some stuff a brother doesn’t need to hear,” Dean said, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“We… we’re good…ish, right?” Sam asked, giving those damn puppy dog eyes to you.

“We can work through this, Sam. I love you.”

“And I love Becky.”

“You want another bloody nose?”

“Y/N, I’m kidding!”

El silencio

The eyelashes of children fall and
are quickly caught–Count to three
I tell them, and save a prayer;
save many.

Candles are lit and are blown with
anticipatory excitement.  I live in this
occult expectation.

Are my rose colored glasses imposing
too much upon the solid bridge of my
nose?  These are after all, only fables.
But what of the countless wishes that
are collected, but remain discreetly
kept deep within–

To whom like moonflowers only reveal
themselves before the intimate electric
blue phosphorescence of nightfall. 
Who’s desirous pang runs up and down
the vines of a garden trellis; similarly
as your mouth did over my neck.

To whom should they or I petition to,
when there is no one we can relate to


tell me more about jay halstead’s past [9/∞]


Original request from a lovely anon:  Awesome! So can I request something based off of Congratulations from the cut songs of Hamilton? But instead of Angelica going off on Hamilton about him cheating, it’s the reader going off on Tony about signing an accords that put her and the rest of team cap in that inhumane underwater middle of the Atlantic prison with the rest of Cap’s team? There doesn’t have to be a ship in this (maybe Tony X Reader would fit best with the song? Or Tony and the reader are exes?). Thank you!

A/N: Alright, my dude, I got super inspired to write this and I was able to bang it out in just under 24 hours, how fkin great is that? Wait, don’t answer, I don’t know if it’s any good. Anyways! Thank you so much for sending this in! It definitely was a challenge for me, but I hope it’s angsty enough for you. ;u; The song can be found here

Pairing: TonyxReader

Word Count: 1230

Warnings: Slight language, angst

“(Y/N), I can’t ask you to do this for me.” Steve says, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to go against Tony.”

“You do realize I’m not doing this for you, right?” I raise my eyebrows at him. “I believe in this shit too. It’s bigger than all of us, and you know it.”

“You’ll be a criminal.”

“Just another thing to check off the bucket list.”


“No, Steve. I’m not backing down.” I say adamantly. “I don’t care what Tony says, he’s just gonna have to deal with the fallout of his stupid ass decision.”

Yeah. They caught us. A good portion of Steve’s team I’m stuck between Clint and Scott. Sam is right next to Wanda. Whoever’s keeping us hasn’t got any plans for us, but they’ve been cruel to the strongest of us. They’ve doped up Wanda so much that she’s still conscious, but no where near a state of cognizance. They’ve got her in a straight jacket and they’ve even stuck a shock collar on her. From what I’ve heard and seen, they’ve used it a few times too. She’s stopped moving around her cell, just sitting, complacent, against the wall.

Sam hasn’t stopped pacing since he was shoved into his cell. He fought the whole way in, quipping to the best of his ability. He even managed to land a solid punch to the nose of one of the guards. He broke the man’s nose and fractured his cheekbone before anyone could rush forward to stop him. Clint’s just sitting on his bed, unusually quiet. Scott hasn’t moved from his perch either. He’s keeping his mouth shut and his eyes forward, and it’s clear that this whole prison thing isn’t new to him. I myself have opted for laying on my bed and waiting for the inevitable eternity of living here for the rest of my miserable life.

“The futurist is here, gentleman!” Clint calls. I smack our adjoining wall. “Sorry, ladies.”

“Thank you.” I mutter, rolling over and sitting up, Tony’s entered the containment deck. I sigh and lay back down.

“As I was saying,” Clint starts again. “The futurist is here! He sees all. He knows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not.”

“(Y/N),” Tony’s voice is quiet when it reaches my ears. “(Y/N), look at me.”

“Not happening, sweetheart.” I scoff.

“Come on, you’ll have to talk to me at some point.”

“Says who? The government? Doesn’t mean anything to me.” I roll off the bed, landing on all fours before rising to my feet. I slowly walk towards Tony. “You’re wasting your time on me.”

“Is that really what you think you are to me? A waste of time?” He hisses.

“No. I think what you’re doing here is a waste of time.” I slam my hands against the glass and Tony jumps back, startled. “You know you’re wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”


“No, Tony, you’ve invented a new kind of stupid, you know that right?” I push off of the glass and fold my arms across my chest. “It’s a ‘damage you can’t undo’ kind of stupid, ‘open all the cages at the zoo’, ‘truly didn’t think this through’ kind of stupid, Anthony.”

“I know, I fucked up.” Tony admits, hanging his head momentarily before looking up at me again. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“I know that, but at what cost? This shithole isn’t something being a hero should include. Imprisoning capes isn’t going to do anything to help your cause.” I sigh loudly. “You’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to. I know why you signed, but you didn’t bother with talking to anyone beforehand. I mean, sure, you talked, but you only talked at us. You expected us to go along with your plan without even thinking first. You jumped the gun with this one.”

“You couldn’t have expected me to allow myself to do whatever the hell I want after everything I’ve caused over the past, what, eight years?” Tony cards a hand through his hair before running it over his face. “I can’t just do whatever I want like Steve.”

“You know why Steve can do whatever he wants?!”

“Oh please, do tell, (Y/N). Seeing as he’s got you wrapped around his finger.” Tony hisses, his anger slowly growing.

“Because he doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response!” I cry. “You always have to have a comeback for every single thing thrown your way, regardless of how small the issue is. You like to pick fights. It’s who you are. You can’t keep pulling shit like that and expect everything to be fine. You think you’re being facetious, but you’re just being sarcastic and obnoxious.” I whip around to face the security camera in my cell. “You getting all this, Ross? Cause it’s good shit to use against us when we never go to trial.”


“No,” I whip around to face Tony again.

“It was an act of political and tactical sacrifice!” He cries.

Sacrifice?” I hiss. “You call this sacrifice?”

“Well what would you call it?”

“I call it the easy way out.” I run a hand over my face, trying to keep myself from lashing out and avoid a hefty shock from the lovely electronics in my gorgeous blue jumpsuit. “You saw an opportunity to foist the blame onto someone else and you jumped at the chance.”

“That’s not true.” He says, pointing a finger at me aggressively.

“Oh? Isn’t it though?” I cock an eyebrow at him. “I know you, Tony. Standing on the sidelines just isn’t your thing, but I know you’ve got one hell of a guilty conscience.”

“LIke you could know anything about the state of my conscience.”

“But don’t I?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. “I’ve worked with you for years, Tony. I gave up a good portion of my life to assist you. I know exactly how much you blame yourself for the things that have happened. You’re not as hard to read as you think you are, and I’m not stupid as you want to think I am.” A low whistle comes from someone a couple cells away from me.

“Congratulations, Tony.” Sam says, a low chuckle following his words.

“(Y/N), just please tell me why you did this for Steve.” Tony says, his tone verging on begging.

“You seriously think I did this for Steve?” I hiss. He searches my eyes momentarily before nodding gently. “Jeez, Tony, I’m here because I chose this path. I just happened to join his team.”

“I just have one last question.”


“Did you even think about what your choice would do to me?”

“Did you even think about what your choice would do to me, Tony? Did you?” I shake my head. “Of course I thought of what it would do to you. I love you. I couldn’t let that get in my way any more than I could sit by and watch the massacre that would result from the negligence of the government, regardless of how many signed that damn paper. I can’t-” my throat goes dry and I have to swallow before speaking again. “I can’t keep tearing myself apart to help both sides.”

“Then stop.” He breathes.

Let me.

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